TALES OF THE DISAPPEARED:
TARNISHED, PART V
Cycle 9314, the Autobot Orbital Command Hub
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”
Dominus Ambus stood before Prowl in the latter’s office aboard the Autobot Orbital Command Hub. Through the main window, the planet of Opulus glowed like an orange ball of gas.
“I am,” he answered evenly, holding his helmet in the crook of his arm so that Prowl could see his true face; or at least, the face he wanted him to see, with the facial insignia of House Ambus proudly displayed on his upper lip.
Prowl eyed him carefully, his blue optics searching Dominus’s own. “You have a lot to live for,” he said softly. “A Conjunx Endura who admires you. A wealth of knowledge. A philosophical mind. A lot of us wish we could have the life that you live. You are an inspiration to a lot of Autobots. To commit to something like this would be to leave all of that behind.”
“I understand the sacrifice I must make,” Dominus said. “This was not an easy decision for me, but it is one I needed to make regardless of the risks involved.”
“Is there a particular reason why you want to do this?”
Dominus hesitated before answering. “Ever since K’th Kinsere, I have found… difficulty in finding my place with the Autobots,” he began. “Working with the likes of the Wreckers and the Dynobots showed me that I do not fit in with the soldiers, and my attempts to speak to Autobots’ sparks through my written works have fallen on malfunctioning audio receptors. I have since come to realize that, if I am to make a proper impact in our war against the Decepticons, then perhaps my skills would be better suited on the other side of the line.”
Prowl tilted his head questioningly. “And what do you hope to achieve, with your skills, by infiltrating the Decepticons?”
“With my charisma and foresight, I can get my servos on secrets that Decepticon High Command won’t allow even their own soldiers to know. I would do everything I can to make sure they never suspect me and get my messages to you in a timely and discreet manner.”
“You seem pretty confident of your own abilities.”
“One does not get as far in life as me without a strong sense of confidence.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Prowl admitted. “I will field your request to Optimus Prime for approval. Luckily for you, we have so few applicants to this kind of job that you’re pretty much guaranteed it.”
Dominus raised an optic ridge at this. “You mean we’ve been at war for five hundred years and we don’t already have an Autobot infiltrator in the enemy’s ranks?”
“We do, actually. In fact, he might be your best bet at getting deep into the Decepticons’ command structure. Once I get Prime’s approval, I’ll get in touch with our current agent and see if we can get things arranged.”
Prowl paused for a moment, looking as if he was contemplating over something. Turning to face the window overlooking the surface of Opulus, he continued speaking.
“This request of yours actually comes at an opportune time. High Command has recently begun discussing the prospects of striking the Decepticons’ prison camp on Krull.”
“Grindcore?” Dominus asked.
Prowl nodded. “It will be an incredibly dangerous venture; Grindcore is not only heavily fortified but host to all sorts of horror weapons. Smelting pools, grinders, even electric chairs…. It could take decades, perhaps even centuries, to come up with a foolproof plan that would allow us to bring down Grindcore and get out fellow Autobots out of their without causing further death and destruction.”
“Which is why you need a bot on the inside to provide you with the intelligence you need,” said Dominus.
“Precisely. And if things go to plan, then you just might be that bot.”
“I will not let you down, Prowl. I swear by my spark.”
“I have no doubts about that.” Prowl paused again before turning around to look Dominus in the optic again. “No one can know about this, you know. Not even those you hold closest to your spark. Your partner. Your brother.”
Dominus bowed his head. “I understand. But they will notice my absence; what are you going to tell them when they start asking questions? Fake my death? Wipe their memories?”
“Let me handle that part. Let’s wait until we hear back from Prime regarding this. Then we can start worrying about the details.”
When Prowl said nothing further, Dominus Ambus took this as a dismissal and placed his helmet over his head as he departed from the room. Upon stepping out of the office, he spotted a familiar white and green bot approaching his direction from the other end of the corridor, holding a datapad in his hand. As Minimus Ambus raised his red optics at him, Dominus nearly acknowledged his brother’s presence by speaking his name only to stop himself; while Minimus and Rewind knew that he was serving in the Autobot forces, he had not told them in what capacity. As far as they knew, he was serving in a primarily clerical role, not serving on the front-lines as a heavily armored soldier.
He wasn’t sure why he had kept this secret from them. Perhaps it was to keep them out of danger, not that it made much of a difference; Minimus was already serving as a soldier and Rewind had seen combat himself more than once. Them knowing what he was doing would hardly change things. But the point was moot now; he would have to keep this secret them for the rest of his life, regardless of whether or not he wanted to.
“Pardon me, sir,” Minimus Ambus said, snapping Dominus back to reality. “I need to deliver this report to Prowl.”
Dominus uttered a brief apology, his voice heavily modulated to make it unrecognizable, and hastily made his departure. He considered looking over his shoulder to look at his brother for what might have likely been the last time, but he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further.
Thus, he kept on walking and never looked back.
Grindcore
“Commandant, someone is here to see you.”
Damus lowered his copy of Towards Peace to peer at Snare. The crimson-colored Decepticon jet stood in the doorway to his office, along with another Decepticon. The other bot was distinguished by black and purple armor plating, with robot mode kibble indicating an automobile alternate mode. His golden face seemed to be permanently set in a disdainful scowl; at least Damus knew that the feeling was mutual. Setting down the databook onto his desk, he motioned for the newcomer to enter the room.
“Barricade,” Damus said as he rose from behind his desk. “What a pleasant surprise. I was not expecting you of all people to pay a visit.”
“I am strictly here for business purposes,” Barricade replied coolly, stepping into the office. Behind him, Snare took his leave and closed the door, leaving the two Decepticons alone in the room. “High Command has tasked me with performing an inspection of Grindcore.”
“Really?” Damus feigned surprise. “I thought we just had an inspection last cycle.”
“Yes,” Barricade said tersely. “But that was under the previous commandant. Your predecessor. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”
Red optics narrowed behind the Decepticon insignia-shaped mask adorning Damus’ face. “Were you afraid I had screwed things up in such a short amount of time?”
“It was not my decision to be here,” Barricade responded pointedly. “I am here on behalf of High Command. If it were up to me, I would much rather be anywhere else in the universe.”
“Is that so? Well then, I am incredibly sorry for your inconvenience.”
“Save it.” Barricade strode over to the main window in the room, which overlooked the rest of the prison camp. Outside, Autobot prisoners were being processed and sent off to their designated sectors to be either put to work, interrogated, tortured, or whatever suited the Decepticons’ fancy. Even from inside, their cries of agony could be heard all throughout Grindcore. Having been stationed at Grindcore for ten years prior to his promotion, Damus was already used to it.
“I will admit, you seem to be a bit more… orderly on how things are done,” Barricade commented after a moment of observation. “I don’t believe Straxus ever put that much care into how things are done.”
“To be fair, Straxus is one of the highest ranking officers in the Decepticon Empire,” Damus said. “Not to mention one of the most seasoned.”
“Still,” Barricade went on. “I can’t help but notice you have a taste for the macabre. The ways you punish these Autobots are… extraordinarily cruel.”
“Do you take issue with that?”
Barricade turned his head to peer at the commandant over his shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s all a little… overkill? It almost comes across as if you are trying too hard to be ‘evil’; to feed into the notion the Autobots already have about us. That we are heartless monsters who can only be satiated by the pain and deaths of others.”
“You did not answer my question.”
Barricade scowled and he turned around fully to face Damus. “What statement are you trying to make with this? Are you trying to send a message to the Autobots? Is this all just to intimidate them and deter them from striking us? Or is it something more personal? Something that runs deeper?”
Damus’s red optics blazed at the shorter Decepticon. “What are you insinuating, Barricade?”
“I think I get it.” A smirk crossed Barricade’s gold faceplate. “The mask, the torture weapons, the try-hard attitude… you’re just trying to impress your idol, aren’t you? You’re trying to impress Megatron.”
“Aren’t we all?” Damus had intended for the response to sound casual but it instead came off as defensive. As he winced to himself, Barricade’s grin broadened.
“It’s all just for show though, isn’t it? You’re trying to compensate for your fragile ego; for your scarred face; for your—”
“Enough,” Damus snarled, his hands rolling into fists. “That’s enough.”
“What’s wrong? Have I touched a nerve circuit? I guess all that armor isn’t that protective after all. Deep down, you’re still that puny little orange glitch-head I saw all those years ago.”
“I said….” Damus took a step forward. “That’s enough.”
“And here we go again with the ‘try-hard’ attitude. You don’t scare me, Glitch. You don’t scare anyone other than naive little Autobots who’ve never met a true—”
Damus thrust out his hand and grabbed Barricade by the neck. Before the smaller Decepticon could struggle against him, the commandant hoisted him off his feet and hurled him at the window. The glass shattered as Barricade crashed through it and plummeted towards the ground below, landing on top of two Decepticon workers that had been hauling a crate full of supplies. Knocked off their feet, the two workers dropped the crate and its contents spilled out, burying Barricade beneath a pile of bolts and screws.
As he stared out the shattered window to observe the results of his outburst, Damus heard the door open behind him as Snare stepped back inside.
“Is, er, everything all right in here, Commandant?”
“It would appear our friend Barricade has taken a nasty fall,” Damus replied evenly. “Send someone down there to pick him up and take him to the medbay. And to clean up the mess he made.”
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Snare wasted no time in taking his leave. After he was gone, Damus remained where he stood, never taking his eyes off Barricade until the other Decepticon was hauled away for repairs, taking him out of sight and out of mind.
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