FIVE: SLEEPING GIANTS
Trypticon
“Why have you brought me here? There’s a whole battle going on down below—”
“Yes, well, I believe you will find this to be a better use of your time,” Starscream said as he led Krok through Trypticon’s inner corridors. With a good majority of the Decepticon forces being either at the battle or stationed on other ships in the armada, everything within the Titan was still and quiet. It was even more still and quiet since Trypticon’s brain module had been fully shut down nearly a year ago. While everything else functioned as intended, there was no consciousness controlling it all.
At least, no apparent consciousness…
After navigating through the corridors, they eventually reached the auxiliary command chamber. There, the deactivated form of Full-Tilt still sat in his command chair, rust tinging the edges of the hole that Megatron had blasted through his chest. Several months ago, Soundwave had lured Megatron into this chamber as part of Trypticon’s attempt to retake command of the Decepticons, still influenced by the mind of Trannis. However, Soundwave had a sudden change of heart and had his minions sabotage Trypticon’s systems, allowing Megatron to disable the Titan.
Since then, it seemed as if there was no more life within the Titan as it floated among the Decepticons’ fleet of ships. However, Starscream had a hunch that there was still more to Trypticon’s current nature than anyone had a clue about… and he certainly saw no harm in investigating whether there was any merit to said hunch.
As they stepped into auxiliary chamber, Krok looked around the darkened room uncomfortably, kicking at scattered remains of Brunt drones. “Why are we here? There’s nothing but corpses.”
“At first glance, yes.” Starscream paused a few feet away from Full-Tilt’s body before turning to face Krok. “But you have to think analytically. Then you might notice things you wouldn’t have normally.”
Krok rolled his optics. “Which is something I’m sure you excel at.”
“I was commander of the Seekers’ research station during the Golden Age, Krok. I might know a thing or two about it.” Starscream turned back to Full-Tilt, bringing a hand to his chin. “Trypticon was originally powered by Trannis’s spark when we first brought him online a thousand years ago. A spark which Full-Tilt here carried in order to link it up to the Titan.”
“I know this already—”
“Quiet,” Starscream snapped. “I am thinking aloud. Focus on the details. That spark—the spark of Trannis—was extinguished when Trypticon channeled its energies to eradicate Unicron’s undead army of Terrorcons three years ago.”
Krok sighed, his shoulders sagging in exasperation. “Yes…”
“But Trypticon continued to function, even if we did not fully realize it. Onyx Prime was able to control him somehow, as was Thunderwing. He was inoperable when the Autobots were using him as their prison, until suddenly he managed to reawaken several months ago… which was when you and your Scavengers encountered him.”
Krok folded his arms. “Yes, well, we had a bit of a history with Trypticon. He briefly served as our ship before the battle with Unicron—”
“A-ha!” Starscream snapped his fingers as he turned back to Krok with a grin. “And that is one of the threads I wish to follow! Trypticon was missing for over nine centuries between his defeat by Metroplex’s hand and his resurgence three years ago. What exactly happened in those intervening years?”
Krok tilted his head in thought. “I do recall… when we discovered him on Clemency, he had adopted the form of a Worldsweeper. Aboard it, we found Full-Tilt here who, when we awakened him, talked about a crew that had died. I believe he mentioned someone called Deadheat…?”
“Deadheat?” Starscream frowned. “He was assigned to the Leviathan, under Switchblade’s command. But Switchblade was executed by the DJD around the same time you discovered Trypticon….”
“Why was Switchblade on the DJD’s list?”
“For abandoning the cause. I don’t know the details surrounding that, of course. I typically left that up to Soundwave…”
“And the Leviathan? Was it and its crew ever recovered?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Starscream narrowed his optics. “Clearly, the only way we can get answers is from Trypticon himself.”
Krok shook his head. “But with him not functioning, how can we—”
“Think, Krok, think! Back to our original thread. When you and your Scavengers reunited with him, he was clearly still functioning, as was Full-Tilt here. Full-Tilt might have still retained his original spark… perhaps the same was true of Trypticon.”
“So Trypticon had three sparks within him at one point?”
Starscream chuckled. “It might explain the identity crisis he seemed to be facing before we shut him down. Of course, Megatron obliterated Full-Tilt’s spark… which would only leave Trypticon’s original Titanspark.”
“Titanspark?” Krok repeated. “I didn’t realize there was a unique term for them.”
“It’s not commonly used outside of some science circles… or spiritual ones.” Starscream scoffed. “Some sects proclaim that Titansparks transcend space and time itself, allowing them to commune with the gods. Of course, we both know by now how much bunk that is.”
“True,” Krok murmured. “Although it could explain their space bridge capabilities.”
“Perhaps.” Starscream waved a dismissive hand. “Point is, I believe we have one last opportunity to bring Trypticon back online, assuming his Titanspark is still functional. Then, perhaps, we can get some answers.”
“And then?” Krok raised an optic ridge. “What is your goal with this, Starscream? There has to be a reason you’re doing this while there’s an entire battle going on outside.”
“Of course there is.” Starscream grinned. “But that particular thread will have to wait. First, we need to wake up a Titan.”
* * *
Krok followed Starscream from the auxiliary command chamber, leaving Full-Tilt’s corpse behind, and through the Titan’s corridors again. They made their way up several levels until they reached the component that, in robot mode, would form Trypticon’s head. This would theoretically give them access to Trypticon’s brain module, although from what Starscream had told him it had already been damaged by Soundwave’s minions before his desertion.
As they entered Trypticon’s cranial chamber and approached the Titan’s brain module, a thought suddenly crossed Krok’s mind. “Wait. I know of a method that some use to communicate with Titans. The Camiens call them Cityspeakers, I believe.”
Starscream looked over his shoulder at him, a dangerous gleam in his optics. “Yes, very good.”
Krok frowned. “But we don’t have any Cityspeakers here. In fact, I don’t think there are any Decepticon Cityspeakers.”
“True. But it’s never too late to learn, is it?”
Krok stared at Starscream in confusion before furiously shaking his head. “No. No, no, no. You can’t be serious, can you? I’m not—I can’t be a Cityspeaker!”
Starscream scoffed again. “Who says you can’t? If those Camien weaklings can become one, then I don’t see why you can’t. Besides, you’re the only Decepticon I know of that has had a somewhat cordial relationship with Trypticon. Sure, you didn’t part on the best of terms… but, as you said, he did serve as your ship, yes?”
“Yes, but…” Krok looked from Starscream to the brain module and back again. “I’ve heard that it can be a very dangerous process. If the Titan rejects a speaker… it can be quite painful. Or, in Trypticon’s case, fatal.”
“I am aware of the risks. Which is why I think you are perfect for the job.”
Krok narrowed his optics, immediately picking up on the veiled meaning behind the Seeker’s words. He considered his options for escape but quickly realized he had none. Even if he had an alternate mode that he could transform into, he wouldn’t have been fast enough to get away from Starscream’s null-rays. And even if he did somehow manage to get away, Starscream would easily be able to brand him as a traitor and get the entire Decepticon Empire hunting him down.
He was well and truly trapped. There was no turning back. Either he died here and now… or he became a permanent part of whatever Starscream had schemed.
Sighing in defeat, he stepped towards Trypticon’s brain module. “Fine. I suppose there’s nothing to lose in trying…”
Starscream smirked. “That’s the spirit.”
Krok lifted his head up at the brain module, which truly was just a standard Cybertronian brain module but supersized to fit the size of a Titan. He scanned the module’s spherical surface before finally finding an exposed interface port. Raising an arm, he extended an interface probe and connected it with the port. Upon his touch, the brain module’s system instantly lit up and the entire chamber came to life around them.
“Whoooo… darrrreesss?” a deep, booming voice reverberated around them… or was it only in Krok’s head? He could not tell, but knew there was no time for him to figure that out.
“Trypticon?” he said carefully. “It’s me. Krok. Do you remember me?”
“Krok….” There was a sinister tone to the Titan’s voice, something which put Krok at unease. “Yesss… I remember you…”
“Okay. Good.” Krok wasn’t actually sure if that was good or not. He was just trying to keep the Titan placated and calm… if that was even possible. “Listen, I understand you’ve been through a lot as of late… but I need your help.”
“Help? Trypticon does not help.”
Krok shuttered his optics. “I understand. Trust me, I do. But we’re looking for answers and only you can provide them.”
“Answers? What answers could Trypticon possibly provide?”
“Well, first off, we need to know where you were in the nine hundred years you were missing. Before we discovered you on Clemency. Do you remember anything of what happened?”
“Remember?” The Titan chuckled, something which did nothing to assuage Krok’s uneasiness. “Oh, yes. Trypticon remembers.”
“Okay, that’s great. So, ah, could you tell me what happened?”
“Tell you? Why should I tell you… when I can show you?”
Before Krok could say anything, he felt a sharp pain in his processor and he cried out in agony. The world around him disappeared, only to be replaced with…
Cybertron. Primordial Cybertron, from the looks of it. He was surrounded by metal wastelands, with only scant signs of civilization.
He looked around and then down. The ground was much further away from him than he first thought. His feet were planted there solidly, he just… was a lot taller and bigger than he had previously imagined.
There was someone standing there below him, wrapped in a cloak that sparkled with stars, almost as if it was a window into the cosmos. In their hand was some sort of staff, or scepter, which the spindly orange mech had raised in his direction.
“Who… are… you?” he spoke for the first time.
“I am Mortilus,” said the cloaked mech. “One of the five. And you would be?”
The answer came to him easily, even though he should have no way of knowing.
“I… am Trypticon.”
He blinked and the scene changed again. Cybertron appeared roughly the same, although some cities had been erected in the intervening years. Another stood before him, this one much more bulkier and larger, covered in armor plating that was as black as coal. The same scepter was in their hands and their optics seemed to blaze with the fires of the Inferno.
“Heed my call, Trypticon,” the stranger bellowed to him. “I am your master now.”
Trypticon’s eyes blazed back at the stranger. “And who are you to claim mastery over me?”
“I am Megatronus, one of the Thirteen Primes. I have reforged the Void Scepter once used to control you. Now, you shall answer to my commands!”
Try as he might, he could not break free from the scepter’s hold. All he could do was bow his large head in reverence to the Prime.
“Together,” Megatronus said, “we shall conquer all that we see.”
Memories continued to wash past him, some almost too blurry to make out. He saw his defeat at the hands of Metroplex. He saw his reawakening, where he had first heard the whispers of Trannis. He saw his second defeat at the hands of Metroplex, before his rival left him to drift in the eternal vastness of space.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the light first came to him. It was blinding at first and he needed to shutter his optics in order to withstand the intense glow. A voice spoke out to him—it must have been broadcasting into his mind somehow, given that he was still floating in the vacuum of space.
“How interesting. Of all the things to come across this far out, I certainly was not expecting Mortilus’ pet.”
From out of the light came a fleet of ships, all shaped in the form of the Decepticon insignia. Worldsweepers, as they were called. He wasn’t sure what prompted him—or if he was even in control of his own actions anymore—but he eventually scanned one of the Worldsweepers and before he knew it was converting himself to take on its form.
“You might come in handy when the time is right,” the ethereal voice continued to speak in his mind. “But for now, we need to hide you well lest your former masters come searching for you.”
Time once more became nebulous. His true personality remained dormant deep within his own body, superseded by that of Trannis. He soon became conscious of others walking aboard him, performing duties for this mysterious entity. Through his connection to Full-Tilt, he was able to see what they looked like. They appeared to be ordinary Decepticons, although they spoke of their new allegiance to this “Grand Architect” and the glorious purpose they were promised in return to their servitude.
But they would never live to fulfill that glorious purpose.
They came into contact with another ship—not Cybertronian by its appearance—and it shot them down over the planet of Clemency. Some of the crew—including first mate Switchblade—abandoned ship while others like Deadheat remained on board in an attempt to regain control of the ship. But it was all for naught and they ultimately perished in the crash.
Full-Tilt survived though, and it was perhaps because of that that he did as well. But with Full-Tilt in stasis and his Titanspark still unable to take control, all he could do was wait…
And wait…
And wait…
Krok gasped as he broke out of the connection, tearing himself away from the brain module and falling onto his back. Starscream expressed no concern for his well-being, instead glaring at him with a look of impatience.
“Well? What did you learn?”
Krok groaned as he got back up. “It was… it was the Grand Architect. He found him and used him as part of his fleet. Switchblade and his crew had joined him in secret and were working for them until the crash on Clemency. Some like Deadheat perished in the crash, but Switchblade escaped… at least until the DJD found him.”
“I trust you are satisfied with this information?” Trypticon’s voice rumbled throughout the chamber.
“Quite,” Starscream said. “Now then, if you do not mind, Trypticon, I would like to discuss—”
“THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS!” Trypticon bellowed, startling Starscream enough that he nearly lost his footing as well. “I no longer answer to you or anyone! I forge my own path now!”
Starscream smirked. “Ah, that would be Trannis speaking there again.”
“Trannis?” The floor vibrated as Trypticon laughed. “Trannis is no longer a factor. For the first time in a thousand years, I can no longer hear his voice. I am finally free to do as I wish.”
A low hum began to fill the room, a sound which Krok instantly recognized, having heard it before.
“And what I wish now,” Trypticon finished, “is to conquer and destroy!”
“Oh no,” Krok muttered. “He’s going to warp!”
Starscream’s optics went wide as he cursed to himself. “Frag this! Get me out of here!”
He moved for the door only for it to slam shut in his face.
“Come now,” Trypticon said tauntingly. “Don’t you want to have front row seats? After all, I owe it to you for liberating me.”
Krok could only stand where he was, staring in disbelief at the Titan’s brain module, as time and space warped all around them.
