The Devil You Know
11 May 2008 14:52![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wyntir_knightTitle: Prologue
Rating: R
Series: G1
Character(s)/Pairing(s): OCs entirely, with a brief appearance by Ratchet and Wheeljack
Summary: In the early days of the civil war on Cybertron, Sentinel Prime authorized several refugee vessels to take Neutrals away from the planet in hopes that they could start peaceful colonies where they would be safe. Many of these refugees were never heard from again; lost to us through time and distance. But history does record the fate of one of the vessels. The Stormchaser was three orns away from its destination when it was shot down by Decepticons in an act of cowardice and deceit. There were no survivors. That is what history tells us. But in this case, history is wrong.
Warnings: Violence, death, profanity, sexual situations
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Author's Notes: This story was written for the National Novel Writing Month challenge for 2008. The challenge is to write 50,000 words in 30 days, so it starts out as something very rough. However, thanks to the efforts of my betas, the work has been cleaned up and edited into something that, I hope, will be enjoyed.
A huge thank you goes out to my betas: Mmouse, Storm Sailor, KinRazza, ElfChild, Okami Myrrhibis, and Okamichan. Without all of you, this story would still be sitting in the back of my PC gathering virtual dust.
If there are any errors still in this work, they are entirely of my own doing.
Cybertron was once the jewel of the universe; the pinnacle of art, culture, and status in the known galaxy. And then it all changed with the Civil War. Consumer Goods and Military Hardware, who once lived and worked side by side, suddenly found themselves at opposing ends of the social spectrum. Talks and partnerships crumbled and failed as the Military Hardware, now calling themselves Decepticons, took it upon themselves to recreate Cybertron in their image. They advocated peace through tyranny, something the Consumer Goods could never support. The Consumer Goods – now known as Autobots – wanted to see a world where all were equal, where there would be no classes and peace would be achieved through the will of the collective.
Neither side would compromise with the other, and what started as an ideological argument became full-out war. The two commanders, Megatron of the Decepticons and Sentinel Prime of the Autobots, lead their armies onto the battlefields of Cybertron and beyond… and those who wished to remain Neutral in the conflict found that they were being ground under foot.
And so Sentinel Prime suggested the Exodus Program. Those who wished to leave could, and they would be welcomed back with open arms once the war was over, assuming, of course, that the Autobots won. Megatron for his part did not object, so long as the Exodus vessels were not used for military purposes.
Agreements were reached and the Neutrals began to flee in droves as the world they once knew crumbled around them. But not all were happy with this arrangement. Many of the Neutrals felt that it was not their place to leave; after all, Cybertron was their world too. They felt a strong kinship to their home. They would defend it from outside invasion but they would not fight their fellow mechanoids, and they felt that they should not be punished for their selective pacifism.
Other mechs refused to leave because of the dark rumours that floated through the alleys and underground of Cybertron. According to the rumours, the Exodus vessels were carrying much more than just refugees. Some claimed that Sentinel Prime had broke his pact with Megatron and was using the Exodus vessels as mules to carry weapons and other goods to far-off races as payment for services that were to be rendered. According to rumour, these outsiders were to come to Cybertron and back the Autobots. These theories remained nothing more than rumour, however, as no outside race ever came to aid the Autobot war effort.
Soon the war took its toll on Cybertron. Cities and entire sectors were destroyed, and the Neutrals found it harder and harder to keep their stance as fuel supplies began to dry up. For all their vaunted charity, the Autobots provided nothing to the Neutrals except the Exodus program. And so many who would not have left found themselves compelled to do so or be forced to choose a side in the name of survival.
As these last few escaping Neutrals fled, a small number of brave sparks, both Autobot and Neutral, came forward, volunteering to guard the passage of the refugees. They took up their places on the Exodus vessels, determined to see the refugees safely on their way to new Cybertronian colonies and, hopefully, a better life.
“You know, there’s an awful lot of good you can do here,” Ratchet said, as he watched Arclight from the berth.
“And there’s an awful lot of good I can do out there too,” she countered, as she continued to buff the light grey armour of her legs.
“True,” Ratchet agreed, “but there are other medics who can go. Medics who don’t have ties here.”
Arclight looked up at Ratchet and smiled sadly at the look in his optics, the pleading tone edging into his voice. She carefully put the buffer and wax away and moved to sit on the edge of the berth, taking his hands in hers. “It’s only two solars, love. I’ll be there and back before you know it.”
“I know, but knowing that won’t make me miss you any less.”
Ratchet pulled her closer to him and she let herself melt into his arms, listening to the soothing sound of his engine rumbling softly in his chest. Gently, his hands came up as he ran his fingers up her back, stopping at her shoulders where the blades of her rotors attached to her frame. With a delicate touch, he traced the outline of the joints, causing her back to arch and her hands to spasm slightly against his chest.
“I have to finish getting ready,” Arclight whispered, her voice breaking slightly as her desire to stay fought with her duty to leave.
“We have lots of time,” Ratchet replied as he kissed her jaw, trailing down the cables of her throat.
Encouraged by her moans, he began to work at her shoulder joint, dipping red fingers into transformation joints and seams. He worked her body gently, careful not to leave marks on her blue and grey finish. Sitting up, he kissed her forehead before switching tactics and playing with the leading edge of the crown-like crest at the top of her helm.
“Hmmm … Ratchet … I’ll miss my -hnnh- shuttle,” Arclight gasped.
“We have more than enough time,” he said as he ran his fingers over the seams in her armour. “And if it’ll be two solars ‘till I see you again, I want to make sure to make this memorable.
“Like I’d forget,” she murmured into his audio.
Slowly she freed her hands from between their bodies and worked her way over his frame, activating sensor nodes in a ways that only a medic could. If he was determined to make this last interface memorable, she could do no less.
A joor later Ratchet and Arclight walked slowly toward the spaceport with Wheeljack following closely behind.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, but I do support you - you know that, right?” Ratchet asked.
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
Arclight smiled slightly, trying to hide bittersweet regret under a brave face. She drew him in a lingering hug before disengaging and turning to Wheeljack.
“Wheeljack, you’ll take care of him, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Wheeljack replied, sounding almost insulted at the implication. But his vocal indicators flashed in a smile, pulling the sting from his tone.
She reached out and hugged the engineer tightly. “And you take care of yourself too,” she said. “I don’t want to get back and find that you’ve blown yourself up permanently.”
“I’ll do that too,” he said softly as he returned the hug. “You be safe on your trip, and I’ll see you when you get back.” He squeezed her tightly one last time before letting her go and stepping away. “I’ll leave you two alone. Good luck Arc, and I’ll see you later at the Moons’ Shadow, Ratch.” Wheeljack turned away, leaving the lovers to their goodbyes.
Ratchet swept Arclight into an embrace. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” he asked. “I can’t convince you to stay and get bonded now? I just… worry. I have this feeling that something’s going to go wrong.”
“Ratchet, love,” she said with a laugh, that while light, sounded somewhat forced in her audios. “Nothing is going to go wrong! I’ll be back in two solars, and when I get back we can be bonded, just like I promised.”
Ratchet held her close and leaned in to kiss her lips gently. “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered.
“Yo! Arclight! We gotta get moving!” a young green mech called from the door of the shuttle.
“I’m coming, Cycle!” Arclight called, fighting back annoyance at the interruption. “I’ll be right there.”
She tightened her grip on Ratchet, as if anchoring herself to him, still fighting with desire and duty. For his part, Ratchet continued to hold her close, offering what comfort and strength he could. Only when Cycle called out again, did he loosen his hold.
“That’s my call love. I have to go,” Arclight whispered raggedly. “I’ll miss you. So much.”
“I’ll miss you too. But as you said, it’s only two solars.” Ratchet let her go with a slight hitch in his intakes. He took her by the shoulders and turned her gently toward the ship. “Go catch your ride. And you can tell me all about saving the universe when you get back.”
Arclight nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned back to Ratchet and kissed him soundly, one last time, before turning and running into the shuttle.
As the door closed behind her she felt a tight band of fear wrap around her spark. She leaned against the wall, shuttering her optics. She knew this was a great opportunity, a chance to help the Neutral refugees in a way that she never could have as a paramedic in Iacon. She knew that this was the chance of a lifetime for her. But at the same time, there was a nagging seed of doubt in her mind, and it was all she could do to not leave the shuttle immediately and run back to Ratchet’s arms. He would understand her decision and support her, just as he supported her in everything she did.
“Arc?” Cycle asked, coming back to the airlock. “You coming?”
“Uhm, yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.”
Cycle smiled and walked up to Arclight, and taking her by the arms, encouraged her further into the ship.
“Come on. I’ve saved us seats near a viewport. From what I’ve heard, we don’t want to miss that first view of the Stormchaser. She’s supposed to be incredible from the outside!”
Arclight pulled herself together and followed Cycle from the room. She was being silly. After all, it wasn’t like anything was going to happen to a refugee vessel. Besides, she had her best friend with her, and together, they were going to change these people’s lives.
Rating: R
Series: G1
Character(s)/Pairing(s): OCs entirely, with a brief appearance by Ratchet and Wheeljack
Summary: In the early days of the civil war on Cybertron, Sentinel Prime authorized several refugee vessels to take Neutrals away from the planet in hopes that they could start peaceful colonies where they would be safe. Many of these refugees were never heard from again; lost to us through time and distance. But history does record the fate of one of the vessels. The Stormchaser was three orns away from its destination when it was shot down by Decepticons in an act of cowardice and deceit. There were no survivors. That is what history tells us. But in this case, history is wrong.
Warnings: Violence, death, profanity, sexual situations
Disclaimer: Transformers belong to Hasbro and Takara, and are licensed to IDW and Dreamworks. My original characters are my own and any similarity between them and any existing characters from canon or fandom is purely coincidental. I claim no ownership by writing this work.
Author's Notes: This story was written for the National Novel Writing Month challenge for 2008. The challenge is to write 50,000 words in 30 days, so it starts out as something very rough. However, thanks to the efforts of my betas, the work has been cleaned up and edited into something that, I hope, will be enjoyed.
A huge thank you goes out to my betas: Mmouse, Storm Sailor, KinRazza, ElfChild, Okami Myrrhibis, and Okamichan. Without all of you, this story would still be sitting in the back of my PC gathering virtual dust.
If there are any errors still in this work, they are entirely of my own doing.
Cybertron was once the jewel of the universe; the pinnacle of art, culture, and status in the known galaxy. And then it all changed with the Civil War. Consumer Goods and Military Hardware, who once lived and worked side by side, suddenly found themselves at opposing ends of the social spectrum. Talks and partnerships crumbled and failed as the Military Hardware, now calling themselves Decepticons, took it upon themselves to recreate Cybertron in their image. They advocated peace through tyranny, something the Consumer Goods could never support. The Consumer Goods – now known as Autobots – wanted to see a world where all were equal, where there would be no classes and peace would be achieved through the will of the collective.
Neither side would compromise with the other, and what started as an ideological argument became full-out war. The two commanders, Megatron of the Decepticons and Sentinel Prime of the Autobots, lead their armies onto the battlefields of Cybertron and beyond… and those who wished to remain Neutral in the conflict found that they were being ground under foot.
And so Sentinel Prime suggested the Exodus Program. Those who wished to leave could, and they would be welcomed back with open arms once the war was over, assuming, of course, that the Autobots won. Megatron for his part did not object, so long as the Exodus vessels were not used for military purposes.
Agreements were reached and the Neutrals began to flee in droves as the world they once knew crumbled around them. But not all were happy with this arrangement. Many of the Neutrals felt that it was not their place to leave; after all, Cybertron was their world too. They felt a strong kinship to their home. They would defend it from outside invasion but they would not fight their fellow mechanoids, and they felt that they should not be punished for their selective pacifism.
Other mechs refused to leave because of the dark rumours that floated through the alleys and underground of Cybertron. According to the rumours, the Exodus vessels were carrying much more than just refugees. Some claimed that Sentinel Prime had broke his pact with Megatron and was using the Exodus vessels as mules to carry weapons and other goods to far-off races as payment for services that were to be rendered. According to rumour, these outsiders were to come to Cybertron and back the Autobots. These theories remained nothing more than rumour, however, as no outside race ever came to aid the Autobot war effort.
Soon the war took its toll on Cybertron. Cities and entire sectors were destroyed, and the Neutrals found it harder and harder to keep their stance as fuel supplies began to dry up. For all their vaunted charity, the Autobots provided nothing to the Neutrals except the Exodus program. And so many who would not have left found themselves compelled to do so or be forced to choose a side in the name of survival.
As these last few escaping Neutrals fled, a small number of brave sparks, both Autobot and Neutral, came forward, volunteering to guard the passage of the refugees. They took up their places on the Exodus vessels, determined to see the refugees safely on their way to new Cybertronian colonies and, hopefully, a better life.
“You know, there’s an awful lot of good you can do here,” Ratchet said, as he watched Arclight from the berth.
“And there’s an awful lot of good I can do out there too,” she countered, as she continued to buff the light grey armour of her legs.
“True,” Ratchet agreed, “but there are other medics who can go. Medics who don’t have ties here.”
Arclight looked up at Ratchet and smiled sadly at the look in his optics, the pleading tone edging into his voice. She carefully put the buffer and wax away and moved to sit on the edge of the berth, taking his hands in hers. “It’s only two solars, love. I’ll be there and back before you know it.”
“I know, but knowing that won’t make me miss you any less.”
Ratchet pulled her closer to him and she let herself melt into his arms, listening to the soothing sound of his engine rumbling softly in his chest. Gently, his hands came up as he ran his fingers up her back, stopping at her shoulders where the blades of her rotors attached to her frame. With a delicate touch, he traced the outline of the joints, causing her back to arch and her hands to spasm slightly against his chest.
“I have to finish getting ready,” Arclight whispered, her voice breaking slightly as her desire to stay fought with her duty to leave.
“We have lots of time,” Ratchet replied as he kissed her jaw, trailing down the cables of her throat.
Encouraged by her moans, he began to work at her shoulder joint, dipping red fingers into transformation joints and seams. He worked her body gently, careful not to leave marks on her blue and grey finish. Sitting up, he kissed her forehead before switching tactics and playing with the leading edge of the crown-like crest at the top of her helm.
“Hmmm … Ratchet … I’ll miss my -hnnh- shuttle,” Arclight gasped.
“We have more than enough time,” he said as he ran his fingers over the seams in her armour. “And if it’ll be two solars ‘till I see you again, I want to make sure to make this memorable.
“Like I’d forget,” she murmured into his audio.
Slowly she freed her hands from between their bodies and worked her way over his frame, activating sensor nodes in a ways that only a medic could. If he was determined to make this last interface memorable, she could do no less.
A joor later Ratchet and Arclight walked slowly toward the spaceport with Wheeljack following closely behind.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, but I do support you - you know that, right?” Ratchet asked.
“I know, and I appreciate it.”
Arclight smiled slightly, trying to hide bittersweet regret under a brave face. She drew him in a lingering hug before disengaging and turning to Wheeljack.
“Wheeljack, you’ll take care of him, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Wheeljack replied, sounding almost insulted at the implication. But his vocal indicators flashed in a smile, pulling the sting from his tone.
She reached out and hugged the engineer tightly. “And you take care of yourself too,” she said. “I don’t want to get back and find that you’ve blown yourself up permanently.”
“I’ll do that too,” he said softly as he returned the hug. “You be safe on your trip, and I’ll see you when you get back.” He squeezed her tightly one last time before letting her go and stepping away. “I’ll leave you two alone. Good luck Arc, and I’ll see you later at the Moons’ Shadow, Ratch.” Wheeljack turned away, leaving the lovers to their goodbyes.
Ratchet swept Arclight into an embrace. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?” he asked. “I can’t convince you to stay and get bonded now? I just… worry. I have this feeling that something’s going to go wrong.”
“Ratchet, love,” she said with a laugh, that while light, sounded somewhat forced in her audios. “Nothing is going to go wrong! I’ll be back in two solars, and when I get back we can be bonded, just like I promised.”
Ratchet held her close and leaned in to kiss her lips gently. “I’ll hold you to that,” he whispered.
“Yo! Arclight! We gotta get moving!” a young green mech called from the door of the shuttle.
“I’m coming, Cycle!” Arclight called, fighting back annoyance at the interruption. “I’ll be right there.”
She tightened her grip on Ratchet, as if anchoring herself to him, still fighting with desire and duty. For his part, Ratchet continued to hold her close, offering what comfort and strength he could. Only when Cycle called out again, did he loosen his hold.
“That’s my call love. I have to go,” Arclight whispered raggedly. “I’ll miss you. So much.”
“I’ll miss you too. But as you said, it’s only two solars.” Ratchet let her go with a slight hitch in his intakes. He took her by the shoulders and turned her gently toward the ship. “Go catch your ride. And you can tell me all about saving the universe when you get back.”
Arclight nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She turned back to Ratchet and kissed him soundly, one last time, before turning and running into the shuttle.
As the door closed behind her she felt a tight band of fear wrap around her spark. She leaned against the wall, shuttering her optics. She knew this was a great opportunity, a chance to help the Neutral refugees in a way that she never could have as a paramedic in Iacon. She knew that this was the chance of a lifetime for her. But at the same time, there was a nagging seed of doubt in her mind, and it was all she could do to not leave the shuttle immediately and run back to Ratchet’s arms. He would understand her decision and support her, just as he supported her in everything she did.
“Arc?” Cycle asked, coming back to the airlock. “You coming?”
“Uhm, yeah, sure. I’ll be right there.”
Cycle smiled and walked up to Arclight, and taking her by the arms, encouraged her further into the ship.
“Come on. I’ve saved us seats near a viewport. From what I’ve heard, we don’t want to miss that first view of the Stormchaser. She’s supposed to be incredible from the outside!”
Arclight pulled herself together and followed Cycle from the room. She was being silly. After all, it wasn’t like anything was going to happen to a refugee vessel. Besides, she had her best friend with her, and together, they were going to change these people’s lives.