CHAPTER SIX
--Trypticon--
"I've lost contact with the Axiom."
The dread he hard in EVE's voice was enough to give Krok pause. He had to admit, for human-made robots, they were remarkably independent and emotive, not unlike Cybertronians. What that said about either race, he wasn't quite sure.
"I knew it," Violet muttered. "This was a trick all along. If we hadn't listened to you, then maybe--"
"Then maybe you would've died with them," Spacewarp interjected. "Sorry to disappoint you, but we're not heroes. We didn't set out to save the day."
"But this was your idea! If you hadn't suggested this or if AUTO hadn't--"
"Enough," Krok said. "If we continue bickering, more are going to die at Trypticon's hands. Foldspace, are you picking up any Decepticon spark signatures?"
"I haven't been scanning," the old Mini-Con replied. "Why, should I be?"
"When my crew and I last dealt with Trypticon, there was another Decepticon serving on board. We had thought he had perished during the Unicron fiasco, but I don't think it would hurt to check."
Foldspace shrugged before starting a scan. While they waited, Krok decided to raise the other Scavengers on his comm.
"Misfire, any luck on those guns?"
"Uh, we have an itsy-bitsy problem," Misfire answered.
Krok groaned to himself. Of course. "What is it?"
"There are two Centurion droids patrolling the halls. They're big, purple, and I'd bet my left optical sensor that there are others just waiting around the corner."
"Great. Just great. Can you guys double back?"
"Hang on, Crankcase is poking me," Misfire said. "What? What is it? Can't you just... oh, frag me."
"Misfire?" Krok spoke in alarm. "What's going on? Misfire!"
Static roared into his audio receptor. Frantically, Krok switched to another channel.
"Fulcrum! Do you copy? I've lost contact with Misfire and Crankcase. Are you and Spinister--"
More static greeted him before he could even finish speaking. As an overwhelming sense of dread fell over Krok, Foldspace looked up from his scanner, a grim look on his faceplate.
"I'm picking up a spark signature," the Mini-Con said, pointing up ahead. "It's just down the hall."
Krok could feel everyone's eyes on him as he tracked his gaze down the corridor, to the single door that awaited them. He couldn't help but feel that whatever lay beyond would mean the end for them all. Regardless, he pushed such fears aside and forced himself to start walking forward.
--Earth--
Dion stared at his chronometer as the minutes ticked by. Fearstorm and the others were sure to already be out of range by now, and Trypticon was soon to be upon them all. He would have to time it just right to make sure the resulting blaster -- if there was going to be one at all -- consumed the Decepticon Titan.
Or... he could not.
Maybe, instead of doing what Fearstorm had asked of him, he could try and succeed where the Vehicon had failed. It was worth a shot -- far more than destroying it, in any case. And if he failed... well, at least he would rest easy knowing he had at least tried.
Retracting his weapons, Dion stepped up to the Underbase and raised his hands to its glowing interface. He winced as his servos burned at the touch but he braced through the pain and pressed ahead. After a minute, wires began to sprout from the cube and wrapped around his arms, entangling them. Another cord snaked around his neck and plugged itself into the back of his head. Dion screamed, his optics flaring yellow, as a voice entered his mind.
"Who dares to access the Underbase?"
"I-- I--" Dion found it difficult to form even a basic sentence; it felt as if his microchip was frying from the mere contact alone.
"I know who you are, Dion of Iacon Minor. Autobot of the Elite Guard. Space Ranger of Star Command. Time traveler. Interloper.
"You are lost. You have no sense of belonging. An entire millennium of your life was a complete lie; lived under the impression you were someone else entirely. Dion, Sprint... I know who you are, but you yourself do not.
"Now tell me: Do you know who we are?"
The pain lessened enough for Dion to respond. "B-Boltax?"
The Underbase laughed. "Only in part. His was the first mind to be uploaded into the Underbase, followed shortly by Decanus, Tallus, and Rokan. Had it not been for the fifth's betrayal, the Creators would have had complete, utter control of your -- our race. Alas, with the absence of the last component, the Creators' will was ultimately defied and they were driven off Cybertron.
"Now, enlighten us: Why do you seek access to our knowledge?"
"I... I need your help," Dion managed to answer. "Earth has fallen to these... these monsters, and a Titan is making its way here. I need to know how to stop them."
"And why do you believe we would be of any use?"
"You... you're the ultimate collection of Cybertronian knowledge. Is that not enough?"
Another laugh. "It is never enough, child. While it is true that knowledge is power, what means have you to use that power? You are alone and defenseless, with time shortly running out."
"But... surely there's a way to--"
"A way to what? To prevent the inevitable? Life can't always proceed to your satisfaction. Sometimes, you have to simply let things happen as they must."
Dion frowned. "That's not very good advice."
"Yes, well, you try being the cumulative knowledge of a race that has been at war with itself for several millennia and see if you have an optimistic outlook on life."
"So... that's it then?" Dion sighed. "There's nothing I can do?"
"My child..."
Outside, a devastating quake shook the ground, causing nearly all of the buildings beyond Central Hall to collapse. But Dion couldn't feel a thing.
"Why do you think there's anything that must be done?"
--Trypticon--
The door slid open of its own accord, allowing Krok and the others to enter the darkened room. At the center sat a solitary figure, clad head-to-servo in faded, slightly rusted purple armor plating. A red visor glowed from the recesses of his faceplate, carefully regarding the newcomers.
"Ah," the old robot croaked. "How nice it is to see some familiar faces."
Krok suddenly stopped in his tracks, causing Nickel to bump into his leg. "You," he said. "You're the captain."
The bot chuckled, a raspy sound emitting from his vocal processor. "I hesitate to use that word. I've never really been in command of this 'vessel.' Trypticon simply does as he pleases."
"What is he doing here then?" Spacewarp asked. "Did he follow us through the Benzene Cluster or something?"
"No," the captain said. "We went through what some like to call the Warren; a network of quantum tunnels that span all of space and time."
"I am familiar," Foldspace said, rubbing his chin. "I always thought it was a myth, but ever since we jumped ahead 800 years into the future...."
"Why are you here then?" asked Nickel. "Why is Trypticon attacking the humans?"
The captain's head twitched, his visor flickering. "I... we are here for the Underbase."
"The Underbase?" Spacewarp echoed. "Are you glitching or something?"
"You...." The mech shifted his gaze to WALL-E and EVE, who nervously backed away. "I know who you are. He's shown me."
Spacewarp rolled her optics. "Yeah, he's glitching."
"Enough." Krok stepped closer to the captain. "What's happened to my crew? Where are Fulcrum, Misfire, and the others?"
The captain said nothing as everything shook around them. Monitors throughout the room lit up, revealing that Trypticon had finally made planetfall... and was already rising from his self-made crater, setting his sights on a familiar-looking structure.
"Now," the voice of Trypticon rumbled. "It is time to end this, once and for all."
No comments:
Post a Comment