SUNBURST
By Raksha
Well if you told me you were drowning
I would not lend a hand.
I've seen your face before my friend,
But I don't know if you know who I am.
Well I was there and I saw what you did,
I saw it with my own two eyes,
So you can wipe off that grin,
I know where you've been,
It's all been a pack of lies!
I know the reason why you keep your silence up.
No you don't fool me,
The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows,
It's no stranger to you and me.
--Phil Collins, "In the Air Tonight"
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1
Deep Space
Earth Date: 2052
"It isn't fair!" Kaliber complained, stopping himself just short of stomping his feet in indignation. He was too old for that kind of thing now, as evidenced by the "discussion" he was having with his parents, but none the less he repeated, "It's not fair! I should get to choose! Starscream thinks so too."
Megatron glowered down at him, his scarlet optics flashing a warning. "As though I would base my command decisions on Starscream's opinion! Be silent, Kaliber. The choice is made."
"But I want to be a flyer like Starscream!" Kaliber protested, realizing to his horror that he sounded just like what he was trying to convince his creator he was not: a whiney little kid.
"That is enough!" Megatron thundered. "As soon as we have the necessary resources and Soundwave completes the bodyshell, your mind will be transferred into a combatant-class warrior's body. You've come far enough in your training that you can handle the heavy weaponry. And we'll need well-armed ground fighters when we re-take Cybertron. We have plenty of flyers. I'll hear no further debate on the matter."
Kaliber clenched his fists, glaring up at Megatron in defiance - and at Nightbird, an inscrutable silent shadow at his side. She had said nothing during the dispute, but her presence bespoke of her agreement with Megatron. Kaliber knew he couldn't prevail against them. Sullenly he turned away. "Two-bit tyrant," he muttered under his breath, drawing upon one of Starscream's favorite insults.
"What did you say?" Megatron demanded.
"Nothing!" Kaliber shot back, and stomped angrily out of the room, through the antechamber and out of the commander's quarters, out into the cavernous metal-lined hallways of the flagship Stratofortress.
He'd been looking forward to his transfer to an adult bodyform, tired of being one of the smallest Decepticons, despite being on the same size-scale as Soundwave's creations Rumble and Frenzy, with whom he'd practically grown up. His friends too were old enough to be transferred to adult forms if they wished, but their alt modes worked so well with Soundwave and were so valuable for espionage and infiltration missions, that they had chosen to remain as they were, for the moment. Kaliber, though, as Megatron and Nightbird's creation, was expected to advance and assume ever-increasing rank and responsibility.
The rank and responsibility, truth be told, didn't appeal to him. He resented Megatron's pushing him to ever-improved combat prowess, the endless holographic simulator sessions, the long hours at the computer studying Cybertron's history and battle strategies of the past, the rapid-fire pop quizzes he was expected to respond to whenever the mood struck Megatron ... and it was this resentment, he supposed, that had drawn him to Starscream as a kindred spirit. Starscream didn't subordinate himself to Megatron the way everyone else did. Even when the better part of valor was to follow orders, Starscream always managed to do it with a snide remark or a veiled insult that pushed Megatron just to the edge of taking disciplinary action, but seldom beyond. Countless times Kaliber had perched on the edge of Starscream's wing and suppressed a smirk to witness how easily Starscream goaded Megatron into a state of aggravation. In Starscream's defiance, Kaliber lived vicariously and delighted in the things that he himself wouldn't dare say to his creator.
When Kaliber was angry at Megatron, he could go to Starscream and unleash a tirade, to which Starscream would nod in understanding and add a few choice comments of his own, which invariably made Kaliber laugh and feel better. None of the horrible things he said at such times would ever get back to Megatron, he knew; Starscream was his co-conspirator and would keep his secrets.
They had shared insults behind Megatron's back, too; "two-bit tyrant" being only one of many. And Starscream had told Kaliber of the thrill of flight, what it was like to transform into a sleek, maneuverable jet and rocket through the atmosphere at unbelievable speeds (riding in Starscream's cockpit just didn't compare), and had planted the seed of the notion that, when it came time for Kaliber to be transferred into an adult bodyform, he could become a flyer, like Starscream, and be trained and guided by the very best, by Starscream himself.
But Megatron wouldn't hear of it. Kaliber knew, much as it rankled him, that there was no way to get around his creator's edict. Soundwave, who would build the bodyshell and conduct the transfer process, would be sympathetic to his feelings but would none the less support his leader, explaining to Kaliber in his calm, patient manner why Megatron's way really was for the best. Rumble and Frenzy wouldn't get it either. They too suffered from a case of hero-worship when it came to the Decepticon leader. Nightbird, who had initiated Kaliber's creation and current alt mode of a handheld laser gun, had already signaled her agreement with her consort. Kaliber could expect true commiseration only from Starscream, the only one who had ever really understood.
He tromped through the corridors of the Stratofortress in search of his friend. The ship seemed almost deserted, many of its inhabitants having moved over to the space station Destron, against which the ship was currently docked. Would Starscream be among them, Kaliber wondered, scoping out the newfound possibilities for advancement? He paused in an intersection, one passage leading deeper into the heart of the ship, the other toward the spacedock.
As he turned toward the spacedock, he heard a voice behind him, soft, insistent: "Kaliber."
He froze. Megatron's voice, he would have ignored at this point, and continued stubbornly on his way - but not Nightbird. Reluctantly he turned back, to face her. Where she had come from, whether she had followed him or come upon him from an intersecting corridor, or even dropped down from a ceiling panel, he could not tell, as he could never hear her approach. But she was there, the shadowy form in gray and black, regarding him with utter composure from behind her facemask and amber eyes, eyes the same color as his own.
"There is something you should understand," she said, and she didn't sound angry or reproachful or even disappointed in him, as Megatron so often did, but there was something in the quiet intensity of her manner that put him on guard. "Megatron has reasons for his decisions, good reasons," she began.
He'd heard this before, from Nightbird, from Soundwave, even from Rumble and Frenzy, and he was prepared to shrug it off, yet again.
"He's correct, we do have plenty of flyers, and your fighting skills will be more useful in the form of a heavily-armed combatant, a mobile cannon alt mode similar to Megatron's own."
Kaliber pulled a face. If she was trying to win him over with that visual image, she was failing badly.
"The Autobots are entrenched on Cybertron, and the battle to reclaim it will be hard-fought. We need every advantage."
He tried not to look indifferent. Cybertron was a myth to him, a world he had only glimpsed briefly before Megatron's forces were flung far off into a distant sector of the Universe. For the vast majority of his life, deep space and this ship had been his home. The other Decepticons' attachment to Cybertron, he understood only in an abstract way ... although, Starscream spoke if it sometimes with longing and affection....
"But there's more," Nightbird continued. "I had hoped never to have to tell you this, but ... when you say you want to be a flyer 'like Starscream,' perhaps you should know exactly what that means.
"You know I was created on Earth, by humans, as a slave. Megatron freed me, welcomed me into his forces. But we were only together briefly before I was re-captured. I spent twenty years in captivity, locked away in a stasis pod. The Autobots thought they had de-activated me, but they were wrong. I was awake, conscious. Immobile. A living death. And it was Starscream who was responsible for putting me there."
Kaliber felt his optics flicker in a "blink."
"That's right," Nightbird confirmed. "In the midst of battle against the Autobots, Starscream turned his firepower on a fellow Decepticon. Because he knew that the best way to hurt Megatron, was through me. Now ask yourself," and here her optics narrowed a little as her gaze seemed to burn into Kaliber's core, "what vantage point Starscream may be seeking against Megatron, by being so friendly with you?"
Kaliber felt the foundation of a world shift beneath him. He dropped his gaze, trying to process what he had just heard. When he looked up again, Nightbird was gone.
* * *
"Hey, Kaliber!" Starscream called to the little black-and-silver Decepticon who was perched on the backrest of a chair, staring out the viewport of the darkened observation lounge. Outside, the immense curve of the Destron's hull blocked the view of the stars, a sprinkling of lights along its surface designating viewports of its own. "Did you hear? We've located a nearby planet with a fuel source. Perfect for re-stocking our reserves. After that..." he took a seat opposite Kaliber, and grinned ... "Cybertron!"
Kaliber stared out the viewport a few moments longer, then slowly turned his head to look at Starscream, his face expressionless, his optics dim.
Starscream frowned a little. "You okay?" he asked, and upon getting no reply, he guessed, "Is Megatron giving you a hard time again?" He used his most sympathetic tone, and he was sure it would prompt Kaliber to tell him all about it. He would enjoy a shared gripe-session against Megatron just now, so close to their triumphant return home; it would be suitably energizing.
When Kaliber still remained silent, Starscream encouraged him, "Come on, you can tell me. What did he do now?"
"It's not what he did, Starscream," Kaliber replied finally. "It's what you did."
He leapt off the back of the chair and made for the exit.
"What?" Starscream asked, utterly puzzled. He stood and moved to follow, but Kaliber whirled on him, his optics flashing bright in the dimmed room.
"You stay away from me!" Kaliber shouted.
"But--"
"Just stay away!" He turned and ran out, leaving Starscream looking after him, perplexed.
What you did, Kaliber had said. Starscream ran through a quick mental list of his recent activities. What had he said or done, lately, that might have put Kaliber off? Nothing he could pinpoint, nothing out of the ordinary. But then, Kaliber was at "that age," when every small event or misinterpreted word could be blown out of proportion and taken personally. Starscream had been there himself once, after all. It would pass.
He shrugged. Kids.
* * *
In the Destron's circular command center, Deathsaurus regarded the panorama of the computer screen from his throne atop the raised central pedestal. It showed an enhanced view of the planet they had found, a few light-years distant - rich in oil shale which could be harvested to extract much-needed energon. The standoff between the Stratofortress and the Destron had burned much of their reserves, and now they would have to repower before they had even a hope of attacking Cybertron. Proof yet again how foolish it was, for Decepticon to fight Decepticon. He himself had made that argument many times, in the process of uniting the remaining Decepticon forces in the Cybertron sector, in Megatron's absence. And then they had nearly killed each other, he and Megatron, potentially depriving their species of one or both of its greatest commanders before the madness was called to a halt. He still disliked taking subordinate status to Megatron, after having been Decepticon leader for so many years - but at the moment this was their best chance of defeating the common enemy. And, part of him longed to watch Megatron in action, to stand side by side with him in combat, to learn from him directly and emulate his leadership style, to measure himself against the ultimate Decepticon legend and hone his own skills in the process.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of soft footfalls, such as would be made by a small, light individual. Another Decepticon would have missed the sound, but Deathsaurus' alien heritage on his mother's side granted him sharper senses than most. He turned from the screen, rotating the throne a quarter of a turn to the left, to see a small robot standing in the entranceway of the command center. Plated in black and silver, with a row of spikes adorning each shoulder and a purple Decepticon symbol on his chest, the little robot peered up at him with big amber optics.
"What are you doing here?" Deathsaurus asked, without much real interest.
"I'm..." the little robot's gaze wavered, flickered around the command center as though trying to take it all in with a quick glance, and then met his optics steadily, "I'm Kaliber. I'm your brother."
"Yes, I know," Deathsaurus said, flexing his talons against the armrests of his throne. In fact he had caught sight of Kaliber several times over the last few days, but always in the company of Starscream, Megatron's subcommander, so it seemed almost incongruous to see him here now, alone. It occurred to Deathsaurus that Kaliber would be a future rival, a contender for the eventual inheritance of Megatron's empire, and the wisest move might be to eliminate him now. It was the dead of station's night, no one else was about, and it wouldn't be difficult to fake a plausible accident.
"I just thought I'd introduce myself," Kaliber said, blissfully unaware of Deathsaurus' contemplations. He looked a little forlorn in the huge entranceway, small and helpless. Deathsaurus decided to let him live. There was no honor in killing a child.
"You've done so," he said, and began to turn away, thereby dismissing the midnight visitor.
From the corner of his optic he saw Kaliber's shoulders sag a bit, as though in disappointment, as though he'd been hoping for something more.
What must it be like, Deathsaurus wondered, to be a child? To be dependent upon others for learning basic survival skills? To be guided and cared for and taught and cherished? He himself had never known. But what an immense and terrible power, to have access to such a being, who could be molded and trained, whose life could be influenced for the better or for the worse upon an adult's whim! The power to shape a life according to one's own designs - or to free a young soul to fly along its own chosen path. It was a fascinating thought.
"Okay then," Kaliber said, turning away resignedly to leave.
"Wait," Deathsaurus called him back. "Brother." He tested out the word, found that it didn't sit badly with him. He stood, unfurling his long sickle-shaped wings behind him. "Would you like to see the rest of the space station Destron? I have some spare time."
Kaliber nodded eagerly.
* * *
Starscream remained puzzled. It had been three days now, and whatever silly adolescent quirk had troubled Kaliber, he hadn't gotten over it. Whenever he tried to talk to Kaliber, the little black-and-silver Decepticon would abruptly walk away. "Tell me what I did, at least!" Starscream called after him once, to which Kaliber only threw a glare back at him over his shoulder and continued on his way. He was starting to miss his young friend, Starscream realized with some surprise. Who else could he share snide observations and dumb jokes about Megatron with, after all? Who else really looked up to him the way Kaliber did? Or had. Try as he might, Starscream couldn't imagine what had changed in the last few days.
The answer came to him, or he thought it did, on the surface of Griisha IV, the planet about which the Stratofortress was currently stationed in orbit. An uninhabited, barren world of broken stone and scrubland conifers, the landscape offered little impediment to the Decepticons' plans. Megatron and Deathsaurus' troops had joined forces to put the mining equipment in place with remarkable efficiency, and now layers upon layers of the brittle oil shale were being gouged from the surface by automated machinery, to be ground up and refined, the precious fuel extracted and converted into an ever-growing mound of glowing energon cubes. The noise near the open pit mine was deafening: the repeated microblasts that loosened the rock strata, the scrape of power shovels, the roar of shale slabs rushing along transport chutes, the crunch of shattering stone. A thick haze of powdered rock dust hung in the air, coating everything and everyone with a fine layer of taupe-gray.
Starscream, loading energon cubes into Astrotrain's cargo bay alongside Skywarp and Thundercracker for transport to the Stratofortress, noted a distinctive shape moving along the edge of the mining pit, directing activities. For such a large figure he moved with an unexpected serpentine grace, and those wings were unmistakable even in robot mode: Deathsaurus. If anyone was a threat to Starscream's subcommander status, he knew, it was Deathsaurus. Starscream had managed to maintain his rank through all these years only through a combination of luck and skill and circumstance, and, he supposed he had to grudgingly admit, Megatron's tolerance, but now there was a new element in the picture: Megatron's own creation, surely to be groomed for ascension - not Kaliber, who was still years away from assuming a command position, if ever, but a Decepticon who had already had a considerable taste of leadership, and some impressive victories to show for it. Starscream would have to use all his wits and wiles to hang onto what was his, would have to take advantage of every personal favor and useful contact in his networking arsenal. He was not well-liked among the other Decepticons, he knew, but there was an undeniable respect for his battle skill, and a certain political influence he had with key individuals.
Speaking of which ... he rubbed a layer of rock dust from his optic lenses and looked again ... yes, there was a small figure trudging along the edge of the mining pit after Deathsaurus. So - this upstart hybrid Decepticon would seek to claim not only Starscream's rank, but his protege as well? He felt a flash of outrage. They would just see about that!
"You guys finish without me," he told Thundercracker and Skywarp. Ignoring their protests, he soared up and away, remaining in robot mode to circle back around the pit from an alternate angle, where he could land unseen behind a tower of gears and pulleys that was feeding steel cables down into the mine. The noise provided plenty of cover, and from there he could peer out and get a closer look at his designated targets.
Deathsaurus was dispensing orders to the heavy machinery operators, in part via hand gestures in the dust and din. Kaliber stared up at him in rapt attention, and finally Deathsaurus deigned to say something to his brother as well, who smiled, and followed along as the larger Decepticon continued on his path.
Only a few days earlier, it had been Starscream whom Kaliber looked at that way. It hurt, Starscream realized with a shock, and then the realization made him angry. He crouched down, picked up a handful of broken bits of shale, and tossed a piece at Kaliber's retreating back. The shard pinged off the small robot's armor and caused him to turn around, puzzled, seeking its source.
Deathsaurus had continued on, and Kaliber was about to turn back to catch up with him, when Starscream hit him in the shoulder with another piece of shale. Spinning around more quickly this time, Kaliber took a step in the direction from which the unexpected projectile had come. Starscream himself remained hidden behind the huge pulley wheels, from which he could just peer out between the cables. He tossed a third piece of shale, which landed at Kaliber's feet.
The small Decepticon noted its direction of origin, and hurried forward to come around the tower in a mixture of wariness and curiosity. His expression changed to one of dismay and annoyance, though, when Starscream emerged from his hiding spot.
"So, this is how it is?" Starscream demanded, having to shout to be heard above the clamor of machinery. "Now that you have a big brother, you don't need your best friend anymore? That's not very loyal and honorable of you, I must say."
Kaliber's hands balled into fists. "You're the last Decepticon to talk about honor!" he shouted back. "You were never my friend. You were just pretending, because it made Megatron angry. That's all you wanted!"
"What?!" Starscream was genuinely taken aback by the accusation. Okay, yes, it had been true in the beginning, he would have to admit; he had initially cultivated Kaliber because he delighted in the look of consternation on Megatron's face when Kaliber would ride on Starscream's wing, when they would laugh together over some undisclosed topic, when they spent their free time together in a variety of combat training and games and just plain conversation; Starscream had enjoyed fanning the flames of Kaliber's incipient rebellion against his creator, hoping to stir the hornet's nest a bit. He hadn't expected to actually come to care for the little guy ... and yet, here he was, feeling something precious slipping out of his grasp and having to fight, once again, to hold onto what was his. "Who told you that?" he demanded. "Why would you even think that?"
Kaliber just shook his head. "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. Go away!"
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me--"
But Kaliber had taken the matter into his own hands and activated his flight engines, putting on a burst of speed that took him low over the ground and through a stand of conifers that bordered the mining pit, out toward the wilderness beyond.
Starscream made an exaspserated sound and shot into the air after him, transforming to jet mode. He was much faster than Kaliber, of course, and more maneuverable in the open sky - but Kaliber was keeping low to the ground, following the course of dry ravines that wound in and out of the broken shale hills, occasionally vanishing completely among the low-growing vegetation. Starscream overshot him numerous times and finally had to transform to robot mode and fly more slowly, lest his engines stall out. But Kaliber wasn't making it easy, zig-zagging across the landscape and giving Starscream no opportunity to land, as they drew ever farther from the pit mine. Finally the din of machinery was only a distant thrumming, dwarfed by the natural sounds of the planet. Not entirely silent and barren after all, there was the soft sound of the wind, the rustling of dry grass, the chirp of unseen insects.
In a flash of sliver, Kaliber dodged into a steep gully which, Starscream could see from the air, had no exit. Now he could trap the small Decepticon and demand some answers, he thought as he dropped down out of the sky after him - just in time to see Kaliber disappear into a fissure in the cliffside.
"Dammit!" Starscream hissed, approaching the jagged opening and then shying back from it. "Kaliber, what are you doing?" he called into the darkness. "This is stupid. Come out. I just want to talk to you."
"Go away!" came Kaliber's muffled voice from somewhere deep inside. "I can wait in here until you're gone. And I know you won't come in after me!"
Starscream clenched his fists in frustration. Kaliber had him there, he had to concede. As a creature of the skies, he couldn't stand enclosed spaces, a phobia common to many Decepticon flyers - but especially acute, it seemed, in those who were particularly skilled in the air. It was the price one paid, for being the very best. He was sorry now that he had ever told Kaliber about it.
But what were his options? He could fly back to the mine and forget about the whole matter. Let Deathsaurus win. To hell with it. Or he could bide his time and try cornering Kaliber some other day. But he had the acute sense that he stood at a critical juncture, that the issue had to be resolved now, or else it never would be. It would fester under the surface between them and mutate into ... what? Enmity? Rivalry? Hatred? It all felt uncomfortably familiar.
Starscream drew a deep breath into his oxygen infilters, dimmed his optics to black, and plunged into the cave opening.
2.
Did the thrumming of the mining machinery reach all the way out here into the wilderness, Starscream wondered? He could feel the cave walls shuddering around him. The thrumming, he realized, was the pounding of his own fuel pump, amplified here in the narrow passage and hammering in his head. In truth there was plenty of room for him to sidle his way into the fissure if he crawled on the floor and angled his wings just right, but he already felt trapped. He dug his fingers into the moss-slick floor and held absolutely still, fighting down a wave of panic. The air from deeper in the cave was wet and cold, and he tried to focus on that sensation, forcing himself to inch forward. If he stopped now, just inside the mouth of the fissure, he would be frozen in place forever by stark terror. He tried not to think about the weight of the rock above him, and how little it truly would take for the strata to slip, for this narrow opening to crash shut. What was the seismic history of this planet, anyway? Frequency of earthquakes? Location of faultlines? No one had bothered to do that research. Of course, no one had expected to find themselves in his current position.
He re-focused on his purpose. Kaliber was up ahead somewhere in the cold darkness. The scratch and scrape of his own metal plating against the stone walls was like talons across his neurocircuitry, but he forced himself onward. After an eternity, perhaps five paces, the passage mercifully opened out a bit, and Starscream could draw himself to a crouching position, wings still folded flat against his back and pressed against the ceiling. He found he was shaking all over, gasping for breath, his infilters aching in protest.
"You came in after me!" Kaliber whispered in utter amazement.
Starscream brightened his optics, and by their light he could barely make out the silhouette of Kaliber, very close, in the tiny grotto.
Starscream nodded wordlessly, trying to regain control.
"Why?" Kaliber asked.
"Because--" The words died in his voice synthesizer, and he gripped the cave floor, wet and slimy with algae, welcoming the sensation of cold that bit into his hands, the icy droplets of condensation that dripped down from the ceiling onto his back. He re-focused and tried again, "Because I need to know why you think I was never your friend. Give me an explanation, and then give me the chance to defend myself, if need be. If that doesn't meet with your approval, I'll go away. But not before then."
Kaliber's amber optics glowed in the darkness. There was no further passage leading deeper into the rock face. The only way out was the way they had come in - and Starscream was blocking that exit. Kaliber scowled, but knew he was trapped. With a sigh of resignation he said, "I know what you did to my mother." He averted his eyes as he said it.
Starscream shivered, and not from the temperature in the cave. Kaliber could only be referring to one thing. The reflexive protests sprang to his lips: "But ... that was the better part of a century ago! It was before your time, even. And, there was no permanent harm done, she's alive and well...." A flash of indignation rose in him. Hadn't he already been punished enough for that incident? Afterwards Megatron had administered a beating to him the likes of which he'd never experienced before or since, not during his worst days in the War Academy nor at the hands of the most fanatical Autobot - and then he'd been a pariah among the other Earth-based Decepticons for months. By tacit agreement it was a subject that was absolutely off-limits, never to be discussed, ever, by anyone who was there. "Who told you about that, anyway? Megatron? Nightbird herself?"
"Doesn't matter," Kaliber said. "I know you only did it to hurt Megatron."
Starscream sighed. "Yes, yes I did, alright? It was a mistake, it was a horrible thing to do, but it was seventy years ago. What's it got to do with you and me?"
Kaliber's optics sparked anger. "Because you used me the same way you used her. It's fine if you hate Megatron. I don't like him that much myself. But you damaged someone else to get to him, and you didn't care. Just like you pretended to be my friend to get a reaction from him. You didn't care about me."
Starscream responded with a hint of anger of his own. "I wouldn't be here in this dripping tomb if I didn't care about you!"
Kaliber had no immediate response to that.
Starscream pressed his momentary advantage. If Megatron or Nightbird had seen fit to break the silence and divulge the very worst screw-up of his life, maybe it was time he returned the favor. "Kaliber," he began, "let me tell you a little something about pretenders and liars...."
Cybertron
6 Million Years B.P.
"Decepticons, I give you - the Solar Dagger!" Megatron raised his cannon arm with a flourish and stepped aside as the hologram materialized on the dais in his place. Portrayed at a fraction of its actual scale, it was still an impressive construct, a central spire reaching like a blade into the sky, ringed by glowing energy amplifiers.
On the plain below him, a murmur went through the assembled Decepticon armies. The mightiest of the regional warlords were there, all of them vying for ultimate control. This was Megatron's bid to unite them all - under his leadership. And then onward to Polyhex itself, he had confided to his closest underlings, to oust Straxus from the seat of command and assume the official trappings of leadership. Thereafter, he would defeat the Autobots and expand the empire outward to the stars ... but first, he had to win the hearts and minds of the warriors assembled below him.
He was doing an impressive job of that, Starscream noted, straightening his wings in pride. He stood to the side with Shockwave and Soundwave, while Megatron extolled the virtues of his new invention.
"This device," he explained to the crowd, "will tap directly into the limitless fusion power of our sun itself. Every astrosecond, the sun gives off sixty thousand giga-units of power that are beamed out into space, wasted. Five thousand giga-units of irradiance fall to the planet's surface over every square pace, far more than can ever be used. Standard solar cells capture an infinitesimal fraction of that power. The Solar Dagger, however--" and here he paused for dramatic effect as the holographic simulation behind him lit up with a brilliant beam of light, arrowing upward into the blindingly blue sky -- "the Solar Dagger will send out an energy beam that will tap directly into the nuclear furnace of the star's fiery core. Far from just providing maintenance power for the planet's infrastructure, the energon gained from the Solar Dagger will give us the means to crush the Autobots forever. I will have access to that unlimited power - and I will share it with you, all of you, if you pledge your loyalty to me!"
The sun of which Megatron spoke so passionately, beat down over the Cybertronian cityscape, flashing off the polished buildings in burnished gold. The multicolored armor of the warriors, in silver, purple, red, blue, and a multitude of other shades, gleamed in the hot yellow light. A hum of excitement was rising among the assembly, the buzz of definite approval.
One voice cut through the growing enthusiasm. "How will you ever build this device, Megatron, without the Autobots finding it and destroying it before it's complete?"
"Ah, Thunderwing. Ever with the practical concerns." Megatron favored the ruler of Valckasta Province with a self-satisfied smile, then addressed his reply to the whole crowd. "In fact, the Solar Dagger is already built! I assure you, it is well hidden and well protected. All that remains now, is to activate it and reap the results!"
The murmur of the crowd rose to a roar. "Hail Megatron!" shouted someone in the back, and the cry was taken up throughout the assembly. "Death to the Autobots!" and "Onward to Polyhex!" were scattered throughout, but the overwhelming cry of the assembly was for the powerful silver Decepticon who stood before them and promised them victory.
Starscream raised his fist into the air with the others. "Hail Megatron!" he shouted.
"Hail Megatron!"
"Hail Megatron!"
"Hail Megatron!"
* * *
Megatron had returned to his place of origin to position the Solar Dagger: Perihellia, the ruined city, the equatorial hell-on-Cybertron that seethed and baked under the relentless glare of the sun. He had arranged his troops in concentric circles around the perimeter of the device, while he and Soundwave and Starscream attended to the final details in the subterranean control room.
Here a few levels below the surface, it was almost cool, and very dry. Starscream ordinarily would not have been thrilled to be below ground, but the excitement of the moment dispelled all thoughts of the layers of steel and rust above their heads. He shared a look with Megatron, gratified to be part of these exclusive proceedings. How far they had come together, he thought, and how much further Megatron would still take them. For all the Universe, he would not be anywhere else at this moment, than at his leader's side.
"Thunderwing spoke this much of the truth," Soundwave said, interjecting an unwelcome note of pragmatism. "When the Dagger is activated, the Autobots cannot fail to notice it. They will lose no time in attacking us."
Starscream glared at him.
"Yes," Megatron agreed, the trace of an anticipatory smile playing about his lips, "but by then it will be far too late. The energy we will collect, right from the start, will be more than enough to power our troops and ward them off. I've got transport units standing by to send the excess to Thunderwing, Scorponok, Colossus, and the rest. The Autobots will never know what hit them."
Soundwave nodded, regarding the Dagger control board thoughtfully. "I would remind you again, Commander, of the potential risk inherent in this device. We do not know how the sun's nuclear furnace will react to our interference. There is the possibility of--"
"Destabilization, yes, I know," Megatron cut him off, waving a dismissive hand. "We've been over it, Soundwave. I understand the risk. But without taking a chance, how can we claim the reward? The Autobots are well-armed and control most of the planet's energy sources. A few more years of this, and it will mean extinction for our species. We can't afford to play it safe."
"I hope you're not suggesting that Megatron doesn't know what he's doing, you walking metronome," Starscream bristled at Soundwave.
"I am suggesting nothing of the sort, as Megatron is well aware," Soundwave replied, characteristically ignoring Starscream's insult.
"Enough, you two," Megatron ordered. "We're about to change the course of history!"
His hand hovered over the controls, weighing the risks and benefits one last time. Then, decisively, he pulled the activation lever.
Immediately there was a tremor throughout the structure as the concealing dome opened like a monstrous flower, spreading its sharp-edged petals. The Solar Dagger rose on its platform, and another shudder ran through the device as the experimental energy beam sliced out through the top spire.
Soundwave keyed in a few commands on the control panel, and a screen activated, showing a satellite view of Cybertron's sun. The powerful beam crossed the void of space, pierced the photosphere, and lanced into its heart.
There was a roar, and a rumble that ran through the ground, deeper and more ominous this time.
Shockwave's voice came in over the radio from outside: "Energon production commencing, Megatron. I commend you on your success. We have--" He was interrupted by a burst of commotion, then resumed, "Autobots! We are under attack!"
"What!" Megatron snarled. "So soon?"
Only one explanation, Starscream realized. There had been infiltrators or traitors in the assembly, and they had tracked Megatron's army here. He powered up the lasers on his arms, preparing for battle.
"Hold them off, Shockwave!" Megatron commanded. "They cannot break through to the control room!"
Even as he said the words, a series of explosions rocked the site. The muffled sounds of battle came to them, and then a warning klaxon went off - from the Dagger control board, Starscream realized with a shock. "What is that?" Megatron snapped, but Soundwave was already in action, his fingers dancing across the controls.
"Instability imminent," Soundwave announced. "Sun's fusion reaction has entered a runaway phase."
"Megatron's optics flashed bright. "Shut it down! Now!"
"Acknowledged, Commander, but--"
A blast shattered the sealed entrance door of the control chamber, spilling a team of Autobots into the room.
Megatron unleashed a thunderous blast from his fusion cannon, which felled three attackers at once. Starscream fired his twin arm lasers, but the ground lurched under him and his shots scored the walls and ceiling. As more Autobots rushed in, Soundwave was forced to turn from the Dagger controls and join in the battle, his shoulder cannon spewing blasts of plasma.
Starscream was thrown back against the control panel. He glanced aside at the satellite-linked screen. The beam was off, but the sun - the sun seemed to blaze in anger, flares fountaining out from the corona as the core itself trembled. Starscream watched in alarm as entire pieces broke away from the sun's surface and crumbled away into burning fragments. Then the whole room tilted sideways and they were thrown against the far wall - Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, and the charred remnants of the Autobots. A tremendous crushing force of gravity closed down over them, and then everything went black.
* * *
Starscream felt someone take hold of the wing-plank on his shoulder and pull him up out of a hail of sheet metal and debris. For a moment Megatron stood over him, silhouetted against a star-filled sky - then he was free, and Megatron reached back into the wreckage to pull out Soundwave.
Starscream struggled to his feet, shaken, and looked around. He must have been unconscious for some hours, as it was already night, but even in the faint starlight he could see the horrendous damage done to the city. Not that Perihellia had been in the best of repair to begin with, but now entire buildings were collapsed in on themselves, and spires lay toppled and strewn in all directions. Around him, Megatron's perimeter troops were also slowly coming back to their senses amidst the remains of warriors, both Decepticon and Autobot, who had not survived.
Something was wrong with the night sky, Starscream sensed, but he couldn't specify it. And the temperature had dropped considerably. Did it normally get this cold, on the equator?
Shockwave, dented and battered but alive, made his way over to join Megatron.
"What happened?" Megatron asked, mostly of Soundwave, surveying the wreckage with something akin to stunned disbelief.
"The sun was unable to maintain its structural integrity, Commander," Soundwave said, the harmonics of his voice modulated to reach only those standing nearest. "We were fortunate, in a sense. Cybertron was hurled out of orbit, rather than incinerated."
Megatron only stared at him.
Starscream found himself doing the same. "Did you say ... we're no longer in orbit around the sun?" Yes, of course, that was exactly what Soundwave had said, but Starscream's mind refused to grasp the words. "The sun is gone??"
"Affirmative," Soundwave said, in his utter, maddening calm.
Megatron turned away, gazing out into the distance in silence.
So that was what was wrong with the sky. The familiar constellations of Cybertron's home sector had already shifted perspective due to the planet's hurtling trajectory.
"But that's impossible!" Starscream protested, as though insisting upon it could make it true. "A planet can't survive without a sun!" He looked around, in true horror this time. "The entire planet is ... doomed?"
"No," Megatron stated decisively, seeming to snap back to the present moment from some place far far away. "We're alive, and I intend to see that we stay that way. There are rogue planets in the Universe, it's not unheard-of. Cybertron is one of them now. We've lost the sun as an energy source, but there are other sources. And ... we can turn even this disaster to our advantage." There was no satisfaction in his words, only a grim determination.
The other Decepticon warriors were pulling themselves out of the wreckage and drawing closer, looking to Megatron for answers.
"Soundwave," Megatron ordered, "open a broadband communications channel to the entire planet. Try to filter out the Autobot frequencies if you can, but it's not critical. They'll hear what I have to say soon enough, anyway. But I must speak to our warriors."
A recording reel moved silently behind the glass of Soundwave's chest compartment. He nodded to Megatron; he was ready to record his leader's words and broadcast them.
"Decepticons," Megatron's voice rang out, strong and commanding, inspiring trust, inspiring hope, "we have suffered an ecological catastrophe of nearly unimaginable proportions. Our sun ... is gone. The gravitational effects of being flung from orbit, have resulted in much damage across the whole planet. Cybertron is a wanderer now, through the eternal night of space. And yet ... we survive! And we shall continue to survive, and triumph, even in the shadow of this cataclysm.
"There are those, however, who must be held responsible for it. Not long ago I promised you unlimited energon, as generated by my invention, the Solar Dagger. You would have this energon today, at this very moment, if not for the interference of the Autobots. Indeed, our sun would still exist, and our planet would still know the difference between night and day, if not for the interference of the Autobots.
"To prevent us, the Decepticons, the rightful rulers of Cybertron, from gaining power, the Autobots attacked my Solar Dagger site and destroyed the controls. In the process, the beam was destabilized and the sun was destroyed. You see the lengths to which they would go, to defeat us. They would sacrifice their own world, their own sun. But we are not defeated. I ask you now, warriors of Cybertron, to stand with me in this dark night. We will be avenged, and we will rise again. Stand with me, and I will lead us to victory."
Megatron signaled Soundwave with a slicing motion of his hand to end the transmission. The other warriors had crowded around, listening in transfixed silence, their optics glowing red and yellow and purple in the darkness. After Megatron stopped speaking, a hush fell over the crowd - not a single clanking gear, shuffled foot, or murmured comment. Then the cry went up, just a few solemn voices at first, but rising into a roar that bespoke of vengeance and devotion:
"Hail Megatron!"
"Hail Megatron!"
"Hail Megatron!"
This time, Starscream did not join them.
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Deathsaurus realized he'd lost track of Kaliber, and scanned the edge of the pit. He'd thought the little robot was right behind him, but in the cacophony even his enhanced senses would have missed the soft footsteps of such a small being wandering off. Or even - the distressing thought came to him - a cry for help if he'd fallen into the pit? Deathsaurus peered down into the abyss, saw the shovels eating their way into the strata, the shale slabs grinding against each other on their way to the rock crusher.
What if Kaliber had fallen into the rock crusher? His body would be mangled instantly, a few moments of intense suffering before his lifeforce was extinguished forever. Deathsaurus cursed himself, resisting the urge to bring the whole operation to a grinding halt. It was not in his nature to panic, nor to attach overly much sentimental value to any one individual, but the thought of his little brother spending his final moments in terror and agony put a kind of cold fear in him that he had never known before. It had been his responsibility to safeguard the child, and he had failed. His first real assignment under Megatron's command, and now this?
One by one he began to question the miners, the pilots, and the energon loaders. Had they noticed a little black-and-silver Decepticon wandering away - or worse?
Megatron found Starscream in the Darkmount weapons vault, where the flyer was gathering recharge coils for his arm lasers. They'd marched into Polyhex just days earlier, if one could even speak of "days" on Cybertron anymore - the combined armies of the Decepticon warlords, finally united under Megatron's command. Straxus had fled the city before the inevitable showdown, making Megatron Decepticon leader now in word and deed and symbol. But it was built on a lie, Starscream knew, a monstrous lie spoken with such ease and conviction that Starscream had begun to wonder what else Megatron may have been lying about, all this time. Momentum had swept him along into Darkmount, the fortified base which was the traditional center of Decepticon High Command, but he'd done his best to avoid Megatron since that terrible night on the equator. Now, in the weapons vault, with only one doorway leading in and out, Megatron had him cornered.
At first, Megatron seemed unaware that anything was amiss. "Ah, here you are," he said. "I've wondered where you'd been keeping yourself, lately." He sifted through a rack of power coils and laser pistols, as though taking a cursory inventory. "We finally made it to Darkmount," he said, with a fleeting smile of triumph. "I told you we would, didn't I?" His manner sobered as he added, "I didn't want it to happen quite this way. But, we have to make use of opportunities as they arise."
"Or create them yourself," Starscream snapped at him pointedly, turning away.
Megatron reached out and grabbed him by one shoulder, spinning him back around to face him. "What is with you, Starscream?" he demanded. "You've barely said a word to me since we got to Polyhex. You're part of the Decepticon High Command now, so if there's a problem, I'd better know about it."
Starscream pulled away from Megatron's grip with an abrupt, disgusted motion. A roiling anger rose inside him, a sense of disillusion and betrayal. He couldn't imagine how he had ever idolized this Decepticon, had ever craved his approval. "Yeah, there's a problem," he hissed at Megatron. "The problem is, I believed in you. I thought you would save the world. Instead, you've destroyed it!"
"What are you talking about?" Megatron's scarlet optics flickered in surprise. "Cybertron is intact and habitable."
"For how much longer, without a sun? The power reserves won't last forever."
"We will find new sources of energy," Megatron said in his most assuring tone, but Starscream wasn't buying it anymore.
"You destroyed the sun, Megatron. You. Not the Autobots. You. Your Solar Dagger had already destabilized the core before the Autobots broke in."
Megatron actually had the good grace to look chagrined - or he faked it well, Starscream could no longer tell. "It was a ... miscalculation," he said. "I knew the risk, and thought it was worth taking. Obviously I was wrong. But when survival is at stake, you have to take chances. That's what a leader does. And when the gamble failed, I had to pull some manner of victory from the wreckage. It was the ideal moment to stoke the flames against a common enemy, and unite the other Decepticons under my command. Even the Autobots have no way of knowing if it wasn't perhaps their team, after all, that did the damage. Only you and I and Soundwave know what really happened. The other witnesses are dead."
"That's right, Megatron. I know what really happened. I know you're not worthy of your leadership position. Hell, even I would make a better leader than you!"
"You??!" Megatron exclaimed, a sudden surge of anger flashing bright in his optics.
He'd hit a neurocircuit, Starscream noted with an inward smirk.
"You tinfoil reject from a scrap factory," Megatron raged at him, "you wouldn't even be here today if I hadn't dredged you out of the War Academy when no one else could see your potential! Your flight instructor, Desecro, was ready to throw you out - or have you killed, he despised you that much, or hadn't you noticed? He told me you were 'unmanageable.' That's a euphemism for the word he really used. But I knew - I knew - that you needed to fly in your own style, rather than being forced into the mediocre conformity of all the other flyers. Because when you did it your way, you were better than all the rest put together!"
Megatron somehow managed to make the compliment sound like an accusation, and Starscream supposed it was. He was saying, in effect, "See here, I gave you this opportunity, and you'd better be grateful for the rest of your life." And he would have been, if he hadn't seen that sunburst, and the duplicity that followed it.
In the face of Starscream's unwavering glare, Megatron's rage spluttered and died. "Starscream," he said softly. "I can't take back what happened. But we still have enemies to destroy and a destiny to pursue. Cybertron will be the heart of a galactic empire, and I want you to fight alongside me to forge that future."
"I'm done with your empty promises, leader," Starscream snarled, infusing the word "leader" with a deliberate scorn. "Go to the smelting pits."
They stared each other down in silence as the last of the old bonds frayed and the past died between them.
Megatron shot out an arm and grabbed Starscream by the throat, flinging him toward the doorway in a single, violent motion. "Get out of my sight!" he ordered, and Starscream was only too happy to comply.
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"So you see," Starscream finished, "I'm not the only one who's done something awful in the past. Isn't everyone entitled to one major mistake per lifetime?"
"You never forgave Megatron for his," Kaliber pointed out.
"Well ... no," Starscream agreed. "I think it's too late for that now. But I'm telling you that my friendship with you has nothing to do with him. I wouldn't have told just anyone that story. In fact, I didn't."
It was true, he'd never shared the tale of those long-ago events with anyone, hadn't even thought about them in so many years that he'd almost forgotten the origins of his conflict with Megatron. Now that it was out in the open, though, he felt inexplicably sad. What had Megatron's mistake really been, he wondered now? Not being infallible? Shattering the illusion?
Kaliber, too, looked thoughtful. "I don't want to hate you for the rest of my life," he concluded. "I don't want us to end up like you and Megatron. I guess it's not just leaders that have to take chances. I want to take a chance, and believe in you."
Starscream brightened. "In that case, I have one request."
"What's that?"
"Can we get the hell out of here?"
* * *
They landed at the edge of the pit mine, streaked with rock dust and algael slime.
Deathsaurus strode toward them, snaked out an arm, and snatched Kaliber up by the throat. He held the small Decepticon out at arm's length, letting him squirm in the air. "Where have you been?" he demanded. Kaliber could hardly answer from such an awkward position, so Deathsaurus continued, "I had the whole camp on alert looking for you, you wretched urchin!"
"Hey, hey, take it easy!" Starscream shouted over the roar of the rock shovels. "He was with me, he's fine! Now put him down!"
Deathsaurus turned his head to regard Starscream as though only now bothering to acknowledge his presence. The flame-scarlet optics narrowed a bit in contempt, but he opened his grip and let Kaliber drop to the ground. Without a backward glance, he stalked away.
Kaliber stayed sitting on the ground where he'd fallen, looked after his brother for a moment, then up at Starscream.
"Well," the flyer remarked, "at least one of you takes after your father."
Kaliber snickered. "I'm glad it's not me."
Starscream grinned. "Me too." He offered the little Decepticon a hand up. "Come on, up on the wing. I should get back to loading energon. You can supervise."
Kaliber allowed himself to be pulled up, and settled onto his favorite perch on the edge of Starscream's wing. He wouldn't be able to do this much longer, he realized, not after he was transferred to his adult bodyform - but for the moment, the world looked right again from this perspective.
Epilogue
Starscream found Megatron in the ship's conference room, studying a holographic model of Cybertron as they currently knew it from long-range scans and Deathsaurus' files. In the near future Megatron would call his top commanders around this table and they would plot the attack strategy together, but right now it was just Megatron alone, formulating plans, probing for weaknesses.
He looked up as he heard the door slide back, saw Starscream in the entryway. "What do you want?" he snapped.
A snappish remark wanted to come out in return, automatic as clockwork, predictable as a reflex, but Starscream held it back. This moment had been six million years in coming, and he wasn't going to blow it now. "Do you have some time?" he asked.
Megatron's optics flickered toward the Cybertron model. "Does it look like I have time?" he seemed about to say, but something in Starscream's tone gave him pause. "I suppose," he said guardedly, watching the flyer with a definite suspicion.
Starscream stepped fully inside, slid the door shut behind him, steadied himself.
"We need to talk," he began. "About the Solar Dagger."
END
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