METATISIC: PART FOURTEEN
TITLE: Metatisic., Metatisic: Saga One
TYPE: Transformers G1 fiction
AUTHOR: Megan Seekings & A. Chandler
FIRST RELEASE: 1985, 1986, & 1987.
Revised edition 5/8/03, 2004-2008
SUMMERY: Unable to obtain it from their native planet of Cybertron, Decepticon leader, Galvatron resorts to excavating an asteroid particle that has tested positive for Cybertonium, dispatching a crew to retrieve it. But as the surface layers are removed, trace outline of an ancient staircase unintentionally leads the party on a sudden and very unexpected journey deep into Cybertronian history prior to the first Great War some 14 million years ago!
"Just like I swore I would, Soundwave."
A prince's recollection...
"Just like I said."
Only moments before...
"Not that way, this way."
"You said that five turns ago."
They were approaching still another intersection. It looked the same as the rest. Megatron inched up close to the back of his navy-plated partner taking a moment to cautiously surveyed the corridor behind him seeing nothing in the shadowed networks and long bands of sodium filament. At least they weren't being followed, and that at least meant that Shockwave hadn't yet realized his absence; too busy fawning over the security of the Iysurus Temple
"Where are we anyways?"
"This is the tunnel networks the drones always take. Nobody else comes through here and there's no need to worry if we run into any of them." He watched the ivory Decepticon vornling peeked down the new hallway before he slipped passed him.
"I say we go this way Look! There's the escape hatch you mentioned, Soundwave! The one that leads outside! We found it!"
"Do you think this is wise?"
His hands on the ladder rail and one foot already up on the first step, Megatron frowned at his dark blue friend. "There was a renegade who broke into the palace today" he scowled.
"I know, you told me."
"Then you know he tried to kill my father too?"
"Yes." Soundwave's harmonics sounded as weary as he looked.
"Well I'm gonna get 'em!" The prince took another step up, "For yours and mine."
That particular remark was not one that Soundwave wanted to recollect at all. The child shrank away against the corridor wall.
Two years earlier...
Baseband --communications expert in the 2nd. Rank. He was often enlisted for reconnaissance duty to report on rebel movements along the traveler routes between Destron far to the south and the Ohiiden road. Some time ago on a specific mission he and his squadron ran into resistance. Surviving infantry relayed the full report of the occurrence:
"You see anything?" Baseband shouted out, blaster at ready as he braced himself against the shoulder of a boulder-sized jut of silver plate. A shot had rung out missing his fellow's leg by nano-inches. Another one had clipped the plate he was now huddled behind.
"In the thick," Legate replied, "Eight adrams west."
A fellow scout, Legate was quite the rough-hued Decepticon that only persistence bred. A constant determination for personal value against odds. The master had found him working as a inspections officer and took kindly to his track record of being able to sniff out heisted equipment. It was a rare privilege that graced very few 3rd class mechaniods. He took every job to build upon that honor and had trained with Baseband. Of all his troups, Baseband appreciated his presence the most.
"How many you figure?" A sentry asked. He was laying flat down with only a rise of ground for his cover.
Legate ran from the edge of the bluff and threw himself to the ground, seeking cover behind a small structure of chrome. Two phasers rounds rang out, each nicking off a piece from the glyph. "So far, I figure its just one," he said. "But there could be others waiting for us to make a move."
Baseband raised his rifle above the outcrop and fired off two quick rounds. "Save your charge," Legate said. "Count on seeing him, not on luck."
"If he's in there, I'll bring him out," Baseband said readying his blaster again, trying to pick out the sonar ping off the enemy. "When I do, you recondition his data track assembly."
Legate nodded. His gaze floated to the other Decepticon still sprawled on the ground, "Hey Doc, you good with a gun?" he asked the medic.
"I'm better with wounds."
Baseband looked over his shoulder and then waved across to Legate. "The medi-con covers me," he said. "And you take out the pig iron."
"He's got the Karna to his back," Legate exclaimed. "You're going to be shooting into glare. He's have a clear sight on you. None of us will have it on him."
"We can't procrastinate," Baseband said. "There might be more than one, or there might be more coming. Or he can radio back for help. I'm moving and I'm moving now. Back me!"
Legate nodded. "Go," he replied.
The medi-con and Legate fired into the crops of steel and rock as Baseband made his way up the bluff, panthering from spear to silo looking to gain leverage on the hidden Rougeon. "Hiding won't save you." He was jollying and activated his infra-red scope.
"I'm shooting blind rounds here," The medi-con cursed, "I'm going to move to that glyph on the right."
"Stay put," Legate ordered, "Let Baseband get to the top of the Doctor! Don't!"
The explosion sent the medi-con flying back, his chest and face blown away. Several torn fuel lines rivered from his shell like a torrent. He lay there, still and dead, a youthful apprentice who had just begun his service to his Dourjer only two years ago.
"Dammit! Dammit, fool!"
Legate looked back and saw that Baseband was now directly across from the renegade's position. Baseband was well hidden in his cover and took careful aim with his phaser, looking to shoot low and hit at the ground cover. He fired off four quick blast and popped out the used charge reaching to his shoulder for a crisp load. The smoke from his rifle drifting into the air was giving away his position.
Legate saw the Rougeon move away from his coverage and raise his weapon. He had him in his scope lines when he saw Baseband move towards the soldier, blasting off a steady stream of fluorescents. Legate held his aim until he had a sure shot then both he and the rebel squeezed their triggers at the same time. They both hit their target.
It took Baseband the rest of the day to die.
Legate sat there on his knees with him. It was all that was left for him to do. He couldn't radio back to headquarters for help, not that it would have been able to preserve Baseband's function. The only working transmitter had been blown to bits with the medi-con, but even if he still had it, he wouldn't risk giving away his quarters to any other rebel scouts in the area. So, instead, Legate just sat and listened to a soldier he called 'brother' gasp and to engage his words and tell as many stories about his life that he could process.
"You shouldn't have moved" Legate said. "I had him. All you had to do was hold your position."
"Can't let you be the hero every time," Baseband managed a snicker.
"It wouldn't have destroyed you."
"Thanks for staying with me Legate."
"You'd have done the same," Legate swallowed through his smile.
"Don't bet your cogs on it," Baseband coughed when he laughed, seized in a moment of twitches plaguing his systems as the defrags fought to activate with a series of unsuccessful click-click-clicks. Scarlet windows flickered to black.
Since that day, Baseband's young son, Soundwave had been left to Legate's fostering who relocated his position to heading up securities at the Iysurus under Shockwave's steady command. One day, the violet guardian swore, with discipline and intense training, Soundwave would secure the mantle of his creator in the fields of communication while Soundwave just promised retaliation.
Being about the only other vornling close to his age in the Iysurus compound, Megatron was glad for the lad's company. He was about the only mechanism that didn't badger him over the dos and don'ts of being a future heir to Megadyne's crown. Still, Soundwave was reluctant to come with him out to the battlefield --Especially when his father had strictly commanded "No."
"Observation Megatron: You're going to get in trouble" The navy Decepticon insisted watching Megatron push open the hatch.
"I just want to check it out. Shockwave's so busy I doubt he'll realize we're gone at all. Are you gonna come or not?"
"Fine. Stay here, sissy-bot! But you better not tell anyone or you won't be my friend anymore."
"Megatron." Soundwave held the prince in his sight a moment more until he dropped the concoct behind him. Surveying the tunnel to the left, he darted for cover in the shade there hearing disturbance coming from behind him.
"What can we do?" asked a handmaiden. Her name to all those in the household was simply 'Eleven'. Like most the Sarians here, she was nameless... Well, not 'officially' anyways. That privilege was reserved exclusively for the Dourjer Metatisic himself and only he was solely permitted to address her as such. Only he and he alone! His most favored above all, while others shrank from his gaze, as befitted the rank of scum of the house, she held Shockwave's eye and waited for a answer.
"Take this energo-sword. I'm positive they won't, but in the event that any of the rebellion get past securities you must kill them immediately." The demand spurred a gasp from a couple of the elder fem-con servants.
"Do you want to be violated and killed? The Gods, woman, I'm not asking that you stand on the walls, just that you be of some value!" He had no patience with such softness. Good for the chamber, but when you had to depend on one, Great Megadyne save us all!
"I'm on it, Shockwave."
"And where have you been?" Shockwave spied and rounded to Soundwave. The boy was partly ducking in and out of the command center door.
"Mm-aster Shockwave" Soundwave quivered. "I --He told me not to tell, but he's been gone a long time now."
"What is it, boy?"
Soundwave didn't answer directly and somehow the giant guardian read his databanks for the answer: "Soundwave. Where is Megatron?"
"He .." The child's voice shriveled. "He went outside."
Squeezing the vornling's shoulders tight, Shockwave's full attention and instantaneous horror snapped to the windows looking out at the rage outside. "No!" he gasped.
Cyclonus sled Metatisic's frame across the foliage of pits, twist iron, and demolished mechanisms. Fighting against his failing systems and the burn of the ash clouds, there was a stretch of a clearing just up ahead.
>>> Energon intact: 0011.09% 0000:0002000 WARNING: SYSTEM STATIS LOCK IMPENDING! >>>
"No, no... hold on! Err!" Cyclonus pulled harder, huffing each step forward. The clearance was fizzling in and out of sight.
"Dammit! ErrrrAGAH!!! Meh tisic? Eh!" He hoisted him up to his shoulder, dropped once, then strained to lift him again.
"Kraku! Kraku! ...Vaars! Vaars!"
More Renegades! --No! He didn't have the strength left to fight. The charge of his weapon was nearly as worthless as he was and now color flashed like strobe lighting in his visuals. What he figured was a clearing was actually the bank of a canyon stretching as far as it looked deep. Cyclonus skid inches from its ledge gripping Metatisic in front of him now, venting painfully. It was too late to calculate a new direction.
Cyclonus' mouth sprang up with a audible less cry .
And I died ...I think ...Maybe? Everything is spinning. Everything is revolving around me like the helix of the solar flux that brought me here. Perhaps I'm returning? Am I going back home?
New fresh numbness stacked itself on top of his already devastated construction. No --he was spinning! He and Metatisic both were. Cyclonus had taken a energo-arrow directly between the wingspan of his back. The force of it, in his wretched state drove him over the pinnacle edge. He was free falling and so was Metatisic still locked in his vise tight embrace. The jet grunted an attempt to transform only to have his sapped cogs whine in defiance. His world went white, then black.