CHAPTER TEN
--Carcer--
"I said get back here!"
Whirl completely ignored the Carcerian as he merrily skipped down the hall, eager to use the new arm-gun he had just nabbed from the mech currently chasing him. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure how exactly he was supposed to fire, but it couldn't be much more complicated than any other gun, right?
Turning a corner, Whirl was about to launch into a triumphant rendition of The March of the Vanguard when he realize that the large orange bot who called himself Sentinel was standing at the end of the hall. While went through every swear word he knew in his head as he skidded to a halt. The Carcerian finally caught up to him and he immediately stood to attention when he noticed Sentinel.
"Sir! I apologize for the disruption, but--"
"I already know what's going on, Wingblade," Sentinel Major cut him off. "I had your order belayed."
Wingblade blinked. "Oh. Was it a false alarm then?"
"I have no idea. I just know that all exterior sectors are off-limits. No one is allowed outside; including security."
"Why is that, sir?"
"We are preparing for a jump. Magmatron just told me."
"Wait, hang on," Whirl interjected. "You mean we're going to hyperspace?"
"Correct," Sentinel said. "Our destination is currently confidential--"
"But Cyclonus is still out there! We can't just leave him behind! He still has to kill me!"
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do," Sentinel replied. "Now please return Wingblade his arm before I do something to yours."
Whirl dropped the arm, but not because Sentinel had told him to. Instead, he transformed into his helicopter mode and rammed himself into Sentinel, knocking the orange mech down. He then shot down the corridor, at the same time humming an even more heroic and epic execution of The March of the Vanguard.
Lost as he was in his heroic fantasy, he did not notice the hovering dark teal mech approaching him until his systems suddenly seized up and he came crashing down. Unable to transform, he could only listen as Obsidian spoke softly to him.
"Rest, Autobot. You're going to need it."
Whirl then felt a pair of very large arms lift him up and carry him away to God knew where...
* * *
"You took your time."
"My apologies," said the black and yellow femme once known as Rapid Run as she boarded Scourge's ship. "I had to say goodbye to an old friend."
Scourge harrumphed as he prepared the ship for a quantum jump. "Did anyone try to stop you on your way out?"
"Only two Carcerian guards. I took care of them easily." Sideways looked around the ship and spotted a comatose Cyclonus laying on a nearby recharge slab. "Oh joy, you were able to find him," she said sardonically. "If this ship was bigger, I'd be doing somersaults right now."
"You have made your feelings on our friend Cyclonus quite clear before," Scourge said. "Nonetheless, he is a very vital element of our plan."
"So you've said. Like, a dozen times." Sideways rolled her optics. "But I'm still failing to see what part he's meant to play."
"All shall be clear in time." With that, Scourge pulled the ship's quantum lever and the stars expanded into infinity.
--The past--
Skids wasn't sure how long he had been working, but it didn't matter. He was done. Finally.
Putting down the hydrospanner, Skids stood back to regard his handiwork. Damus had called it a teleportation chamber and that it would send fifty prisoners to the Decepticon colony Ambervalia -- soon to be renamed New Tarn -- to work as slaves. Although it was not an ideal living, Skids considered it to be light years ahead of continuing to live at Grindcore.
"Are you done, Autobot?"
Skids turned around to see the crimson Decepticon known as Snare standing nearby. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm done."
"Good. Come with me."
Skids followed Snare back to Damus' office. The room was a lot more personalized than Skids would expect a Decepticon's officer to be. The walls were decorated with framed excerpts of Towards Peace, Megatron's autobiography. A holographic bust of Trannis adorned a cabinet on the left-hand side, and within the cabinet he could see a number of datapads nearly displayed.
Damus himself stood at his observatory window, staring down at the teleportation chamber. Upon noticing Skids and Snare's arrival, the prison commandant turned to face them.
"Excellent work, Skids. I knew I could count on you. Truly no other bot is as talented as you."
"Spare me your faint praise," Skids muttered. "Have you held up to your end of the bargain?"
"Yes, yes. Your friend Quirk is among the fifty prisoners." Damus waved a flippant hand. "Your altruism is admirable but pointless. I highly doubt he'll remember you for the selfless gesture you've made for him."
"Doesn't matter. I'm doing it for the results, not the glory."
"How touching." Damus strode over to his desk and spoke into his comm. "Skyquake, send in the prisoners." He then beckoned Skids over to the window. "Come. I want you to bear witness to your success."
Finding this offer to be strange, Skids reluctantly obliged. Looking out the window, he watched as the doors to the chamber opened to allow the fifty liberated prisoners in. Among them he saw Quark, to whom he waved. The white mech did not notice him.
Once they were all in the chamber and the doors had closed, Damus again spoke into the comm. "Commence primary process."
At first, nothing happened. Then, yellow lights lit up and gradually began to brighten, bathing the chamber in orange illumination. At this point, Skids expected the teleportation to happen next... but still the freed Autobots did not move.
Then, one of them started to scream. Then another.
The lights grew even brighter. The screaming got louder. The chamber became more orange and red.
This couldn't be happening. Skids refused to believe it.
"I've made a mistake," he whispered to himself. "Something must have gone wrong."
"Oh no," Damus said calmly. "You've done everything perfectly."
Every bit of Skids wanted to scream, but he could only watch in silent horror as the fifty Autobots he had unknowingly chosen to die screamed in agony as their bodies slowly but surely melted, losing themselves to the molten slag beginning to arise.
It was at that moment that Damus played his song.
The Empyrean Suite.
"You like this piece, don't you, Skids?" Damus asked him, as if completely ignorant of his aghast expression. "You used it to play sometimes back at the J.A.A.T., remember? I always found it amusing, since it was the one thing you and Scoop had in common.
"I myself, I respect it for its orchestration, but nothing more. To be honest, I've always been rather agnostic. While I'm not entirely sure about heaven...."
He looked back out the window, watching the prisoners as they were reduced to slag.
"...I'm pretty sure hell exists."
Skids could not take anymore. Spinning on his heel, he ran out of Damus' office. Neither the commandant nor Snare tried to stop him.
Racing down the corridor, he patched into his comm. It may have been a futile attempt but he had to try. He had to do something to rid himself of the scarring imagery.
"Doubleface? It's Skids. Do you read me? Please tell me you--"
"I read you, buddy." Doubleface's voice sounded weak and faint. Skids prayed it was just a bad connection. "Hey, you won't believe what I just did."
"What is it?" Sneaking into a utility closet, Skids huddled into the corner of the small space. "Talk to me, pal."
Hoarse laughter carried through his end. "I got a signal out to High Command. They're gonna send reinforcements. We're gonna be okay."
Skids forced onto his face. "That's... that's great, man. I knew I could count on you. How did you manage it?"
When no response came, Skids panicked. "Doubleface? Are you still there? Say something."
"Yeah, I'm still here." His partner sounded even worse than before. "I'm losing energon fast. Not sure how much longer I can hold out."
"Just... just hang in there, buddy. Keep talking to me. It doesn't have to make sense, just... keep saying words."
Another horrible sounding laugh. "You always tell me I talk too much."
"You can talk as much as you want right now." Skids bit his lip, unsure if he was ready to lie to his best friend in the entire world. He did it anyway. "It's going to be all right, buddy. Everything's going to be fine."
"Heh. I figure you'd say something like that."
"I say it because it's true," Skids lied.
Silence reigned over the comm. Skids frowned as he called into it. "Are you still there?"
No response.
"Come on, pal. Talk to me."
Nothing.
"Doubleface?"
But silence.
For the first time in years, Skids felt alone. All he had to accompany him as he lost himself to godless despair were the last few strains of the Empyrean Suite....
TO BE CONTINUED
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