The Devil You Know
6 July 2008 03:49![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wyntir_knightTitle: Chapter 1
Rating: R
Series: G1
Character(s)/Pairing(s): OCs entirely
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.
“Arclight! Wake up!”
Arclight was jarred from her recharge by Cycle as he shook her insistently.
“Leave me alone, Cyke,” Arclight mumbled as she knocked his hand away.
Suddenly a jolt shook the ship, knocking her off the berth and onto the floor. Instantly she was online and alert. From outside of the room, Arclight could hear the sound of running feet, and the cries of panicked mechs.
“What the frag is going on?” she demanded, fighting back a swell of fear that began to churn her tank.
“We have to go!” Cycle’s voice was tight as he took her hand, pulling her roughly to her feet. “I think we’re under attack!”
The delayed claxon of a siren split the air and the room lights cut out, replaced moments later with the red lighting of an emergency situation. Over the noise the communications system crackled to life.
“… -tain speaking. We are under *crzzhth* Repeat, *thrxxxcht* -ack! All hands to bat- -ions! Repeat, all *chrththrx*”
“Who in the Pit attacks a refugee ship?” Arclight growled.
“Who do you think?” Cycle spat as he collected his guns from his locker and subspaced them. With a smooth motion he tossed Arclight her twin laser swords.
“Great. Decepticons,” she muttered as she stored her weapons.
“Come on, we need to get to the med bay!” Cycle ordered.
As he moved toward the door, Arclight took Cycle by the shoulder.
“Be careful. We’re going to be stepping into the Pit out there.”
With the claxon and announcement, the noises from outside increased, as the passengers were thrown into a greater panic. Throughout her career as a paramedic, Arclight had seen more disasters than she cared to remember, and she knew the sounds of a stampede when she heard one.
She and Cycle ran out of their quarters and right into a scene straight from the depths of the Pit itself. Mechs ran through the halls, seemingly heedless of their destination, pushing and shoving each other as they desperately tried to get away from something. Arclight and Cycle stopped only for a moment before pushing their way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the med bay. Another jolt shook the ship sending Cycle tumbling against a wall, painfully cracking his shoulder. From somewhere in the bowels of the ship, an explosion was heard and the ship shook far more violently than it had before. Screams of terror filled the halls and the crowds pressed forward faster, but now, they were all moving in the same direction, opposite from the way that the two medics needed to go. Arclight grabbed Cycle’s arm and helped pull him along through the crowd.
Suddenly Cycle was ripped away from her and carried away by the tide of refugees as they moved in a panicked flock.
“Cycle!” she screamed, her fuel pump racing as she began to fight the flow in an attempt to grab his arm again and pull him to safety.
“Get to the med bay! I’ll catch up with you!” he cried out before he was dragged out of sight.
Arclight continued to push through the crowd, fighting not to be swept away as Cycle had. She needed to get to her friend and she needed to get to him now. But as fast as she moved, he was being drawn away faster. There was nothing she could do. Her logic circuits quickly reasserted control over her systems and she pushed her way into a shallow alcove to regain her bearings. She desperately wanted to go after her friend, but she knew the she needed to keep moving. Even in the name of friendship, there wasn’t time for heroics. She had to have faith that Cycle would make his own way to the med bay as soon as he was able. Besides, if she waited too long, her own fear would get the better of her and she’s never move. As it was, it felt as if her fuel pump was trying to run out of her body.
As soon as the bulk of the crowd had passed, she left the safety of the alcove and ran through the halls of the Stormchaser, past the few straggling mechs, desperate to get to the escape pods. Her only thought was that she had to get to the med bay. Another shudder passed through the ship as the Decepticons continued their assault. The claxons, that had started only breems before, died and an eerie silence descended. The shuddering and explosions stopped, and even the engines were silenced.
The Decepticons had succeeded in disabling the ship.
“All hands! Get to escape pods immediately!” the captain’s voice rang through the ship wide communicator, clear for the first time since she had come on line up.
Arclight ignored the message. She had to get to the med bay. The other medics would refuse to leave until all the injured had been evacuated and she had to help them before the Decepticons got there. She knew full well that the ‘Cons had a history of killing medics on sight, regardless of allegiance, and she doubted that they would care that this was a vessel of peaceful refugees or that this was a mission of mercy. All that the Decepticons ever cared about was bringing destruction and tyranny.
Not that the Autobots were much better. After all, as vaunted as their ideals were, they were just as guilty of destruction as the Decepticons were - the biggest difference was that no Autobot would ever attack a passenger ship. Not while Sentinel was Prime.
She had heard him speak once and it had almost been enough to make her change her beliefs. But she and Ratchet were adamant that they would remain Neutral. They had taken an oath to provide medical care to all who needed it. The oath didn’t say ‘everyone except Decepticons’, and she took that oath seriously.
Her mind was drawn out of her reflections as she rounded another corner, leading her into a corridor that should have brought her directly to the med bay. A wall of broken cables, beams, and debris blocked the path. She was about to turn around to find another route when a she heard a muffled whimper from the depths of the rubble. This area of the ship was deserted and silent, the sounds of the other mechs having faded until they were only a whisper at the edge of her audio’s range, but even so, she had to strain to hear the voice.
“Hello? Is someone there?” she asked as she approached the pile.
“Help … please …,” a small voice said, so softly that Arclight thought she might have been imagining it.
“Hold on! I’ll try to get through to you, just hold on!” she called back.
She approached the pile slowly, looking for the best way to shift it. The problem was that she had no idea of how to do it, or where the victim was. She brought her sensors online and began to scan for the tell-tale sign of a Cybertronian energy signature. After a moment, she found what she was looking for; it was like the rubble was made of translucent glass, she could see the shadow of the injured mech as if he was standing behind an illuminated curtain, filled with thick outlined areas of beams and off-lined cables. While she couldn’t make out his details, she could see his shape and his movements, and more important, she could see the bright white of a small fuel leak. In her vision he registered as a shadow of hot reds and cool blues, an outline of a mech rather than a true picture. He lay on the floor pinned down by the dark outline of a beam.
“I can see where you are, and I think I can get through. What’s your name?” she asked.
“Rivet. M’name’s Rivet,” came the weak reply.
“All right Rivet, my name’s Arclight. Just stay still and I’ll be through in a moment.” She spoke in a soothing tone, making calming motions with her hands, even though her patient couldn’t see them. Her training took over and she tried to keep Rivet as calm and alert as possible, even while her own fear was threatening to immobilize her. It wouldn’t do for him to panic and cause more damage than he had already sustained. “What’s your function on the ship?”
“Sorry, ma’am. … Classified,” Rivet replied. His voice sounded weak and tired, as if he had been fighting far too hard for far too long. Arclight recognized the tone. It was one she often heard from disaster survivors who were about to give up and begin their journey to the Matrix.
“Classified? What do you mean?” she asked as she worked her way past a fallen beam. The ship only had crew and refugees. None of whom had classified designation. Of course, as a lowly paramedic, it wasn’t like she would have known anyways if there had been. Still, the whole notion was odd.
“Not my place to say,” he replied with a grunt, his vocalizer crackling slightly as if his body were under a new strain.
In her enhanced vision, she saw him turn slowly. The heat signatures in his arms registered that he was increasing the stress on his upper body, a sure sign that he was trying to push at one of the beams that held him pinned to the deck.
“Careful, wait ‘till I get there before you move anything. You’re probably hurt more than you realize,” she told him quickly. She tried desperately to speed up her scramble past the debris, but the pile was tight, and the refuse in her way required much thought and planning, lest she bring the whole thing down on her and her patient.
“You’re a medic?” Rivet asked, his voice slurring slightly. “You one of the colonists?”
“No,” she replied with a grunt as she pushed a door out of her way carefully. “I’m one of the crew. I’ll be headed back to Cybertron once we get the colonists settled. What about you? Are you crew?”
“Not exactly,” he replied slowly, a hesitant stilt in his voice. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss it, ma’am, but I am on you’ side. I’m an Autobot.”
Arclight froze.
“An Autobot?” she asked tightly. She held on to her professionalism but at the same time she felt a surge of distaste at his revelation. “I didn’t think we had any Autobot volunteers on this ship. Are you a scientist?”
“I can’t -,” he began, but then cut off suddenly. “Someone’s coming from this side. Go back.”
“What? No!” Arclight exclaimed, making a slashing motion with her hand. “You’re hurt and you need medical attention!”
“Do what you’re told, Medic,” Rivet ordered roughly.
“I most certainly will not!”
“I gave you an order! Now listen and you might survive a few more breems!”
Suddenly he heaved forward, throwing debris off him. The pile shook around her, but miraculously stayed put, and her path back remained clear. The path ahead, however, closed off as a large piece of plating fell in front of her. It was enough to stop her forward momentum, but not enough to blind her “sight” of the area beyond the pile. Arclight saw Rivet stand and there was a flash in her vision, the tell tale sign that the slight leak had become a copious stream. He turned and faced the far corridor, bringing up a massive object that gave off the dark energy signature of an energy weapon.
“What are you doing?! You’ll leak to death if you don’t get help!” she yelled out to him.
“Yeah, that’s if I’m lucky,” Rivet muttered so quietly that Arclight had to strain to hear him.
As she watched, three new figures appeared, entering from the corridor, just beyond her sight. There was something odd about their shape, vaguely triangular. There was a swagger to their steps and their arms showed the dark signature of energy weapons built into their frames.
“Well, what have we here?” a rough masculine voice asked.
“It looks like a poor lost Autobot,” a high pitched, vaguely feminine voice replied with a maniacal giggle. “What are you doing here all by your lonesome, darling?”
“Get slagged,” Rivet growled.
“Oh, now that’s not nice,” a third, masculine, voice said. This one was soft and silky, almost hypnotic and most definitely dangerous. “We just want to ask you a question.”
“Yeah, we got turned around, and now we need some directions. You can help us out, right?” the rough voice asked. The tone was laced with barely suppressed sarcasm, and Arclight could see him practically vibrating with controlled energy. It was as if he was a cyber-hound pulling at its master’s hold.
“Frag off,” Rivet growled, his voice cold as ice and twice as deadly, but there was still pain there, and Arclight could see him swaying on his feet.
As Arclight watched in petrified silence, Rivet raised his weapon and fired at the three Decepticons. The report was massive, sending a violent vibration through the debris pile, and the recoil of the discharge caused his arm to jar backwards. Arclight bit back a gasp as Rivet’s wound began to spill copious amounts of fuel and a blue substance that had to be coolant. Whether his shot was too slow, or his aim off, the newcomers stepped easily out of the way of the shot, and Arclight could see the weapon’s energy hit the far wall, dissipating harmlessly into the ship.
“Awww! Did you miss us?” the hysterical voice asked.
Suddenly one of the shapes, possibly the hysterical one, shot forward and grabbed Rivet, pinning him to the debris, causing the pile to shudder violently. The two figures were now showing as one in her vision, but the portion that was Rivet was growing colder as more vital fluids poured out of a wound that she could only assume was gaping.
“Now, we just need you to answer a question,” the silky one purred. “Where is your cargo?”
“What?” Arclight whispered to herself. She was taken aback and nearly gave away her location by asking the question out loud. Their only cargo was supplies for the refugees, hardly something the Decepticons would be interested in. Rivet didn’t respond to his attackers. Even as the Decepticon shook him, the only response was a quiet squeak as he began to crush Rivet’s vocalizer.
“We’re not going to get anything out of this one,” the rough voice growled. From his shape, it looked as if he had turned away from the scene. The nervous energy had dissipated and he seemed bored. “Just kill him and get it over with.”
“Awww!” the hysterical voice whined. “I wanted to play!”
“Unfortunately we do not have time for that. We need to find the cargo bay,” the silky voice replied.
“Oh, fine,” the hysterical one said sullenly.
Arclight’s vision made the shot look like a beautiful rainbow of reds and whites as the report sounded in her audios. The spray of energon as Rivet’s chest was blown out his back was just as hideously beautiful, and she couldn’t wrench her optics away. A terrified squeak escaped her mouth, exposing her position to the Decepticons.
“We’ve got company,” the grating voice said, turning his body until it seemed as if he was facing the pile and her location.
Arclight scrambled quickly backwards through the wreckage in a desperate bid for escape, but her rotor blades were catching on the debris as she moved, impeding her progress. She escaped the pile in a tumble just as the wall exploded outward in a shower of debris and shrapnel. She screamed out in shock and pain as a sharp piece of metal pierced her left shoulder, throwing her to the floor. Miraculously, the fall saved her from further damage and she was quickly able to get her feet under her, biting back another cry as the shrapnel in her shoulder grated painfully against her joint. She ran from the scene at full tilt, wishing desperately that the halls were wide enough for her to transform, but her blade-span didn’t allow for that, and so she ran as if the Unmaker himself was on her heels. The only advantage of the tight space was that if she couldn’t fly, her pursuers most certainly couldn’t. From their shape they were probably Hunter-Seekers and would require far more space than she did to fly. She heard the Decepticons laughing as they followed, treating this like a game.
She knew the inside of the Stormchaser well, but the damage caused by the Decepticons had rendered the halls nearly unrecognizable. After the third dead end in a row, and with the knowledge that the Decepticons were closing in on her, Arclight decided to take a chance on hiding. It was stupid and insane and would probably get her killed, but it was the only plan her fear-wracked processor could come up with. Hopefully luck would be on her side and the Decepticons would move past her. Once they did – if they did - she could double back and, hopefully, find a safe path to the med bay.
It didn’t take her long to find a room that was mostly filled with debris. A fallen beam provided a perfect hiding place, and in the shadows, her dark grey and blue paint helped to conceal her. Of course, if the Decepticons were using any form of sensor, she would be found in no time, but this was a better plan than wildly, and aimlessly running. At least that’s what she was telling herself. She tried to ignore her logic centres as they screamed at her that this was possibly the worst plan that had ever been thought up. But panic was overtaking her and her choices had been diminished to run or hide. She certainly couldn’t fight three trained Decepticons. While she was a trained fighter and a near expert with her swords, she knew full well that her enemy was bound to shoot her on sight, before she ever had the chance to even pull out her weapons. That was if the Decepticons were in a rush. She didn’t want to even begin to contemplate what they would do to her if they were in the mood to play.
She settled into the hollow behind the beam and waited; her engine idling and
her intakes depressed as she attempted to remain as silent as possible. She tried desperately to fight the sob that was threatening to escape her vocalizer. She was more frightened than she had ever been, and her shoulder ached terribly from her wound. For what felt like an eternity she waited, and then she heard the approach of a measured tread. Slowly they came, stopping by her hiding area. She clenched her dental plating and offlined her optics, praying silently to Primus that they would move on.
After what felt like an eternity the steps moved on. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that she had fooled them, even though it was far more likely that this was all a part of their twisted game. After a long time of hearing nothing, she moved to leave the confines of her hiding place and ran toward the med bay.
Suddenly, her internal communicator crackled to life, startling her enough that she cried out sharply. She covered her mouth with her hand and prayed to Primus that the Decepticons hadn’t heard her.
“Arclight, it’s Cycle. I’m at the Med Bay and you need to get here STAT. We’ve gotten the last of the injured together and we’re about to head to the pods.”
“Oh thank Primus, you’re okay!” Relief flooded Arclight as she replied.
“Yeah, I got away from the crowd and doubled back,” Cycle replied dismissively, concern filling his voice. “But never mind about me. Where the frag are you? You should’ve beaten me here.”
“I got cornered by a group of Decepticons, but I think I’ve lost them. At least I hope I have. Once I’m sure I’ll head to the med bay. It should only be a few kliks,” she replied.
“Okay, good, I’ll see you shortly. You can tell me all about it in the pods,” Cycle said tightly. “Just get here safe. We’ll worry about the Decepticons later.”
She cut the connection and leaned against the wall momentarily. The relief of hearing Cycle’s voice, of learning that he had made it to the med bay safely had sent a wash of hope through her systems. But at the same time, she was quickly losing the rush that was keeping her going. It was just all so much, far more than she had ever had to face before. While she had been in many war zones and disaster areas in her career, it had always been after the Autobots had routed the Decepticons, never while the battle was on. She had never truly had to fear for her life quite like this before and it was taking its toll.
She offlined her optics momentarily and tried to gather herself together. This was no time to fall apart. So after the briefest of moments, she pushed away from the wall, ignoring the ache in her arm, and quickly ran in the direction of the med bay. This time the path was clear, but from the shuddering of the ship and the muffled thumps it seemed that the Decepticons had renewed their attack on the ship. A sudden, violent explosion rocked the corridor, sending her sprawling to the floor in a heap. A wave of fear shocked through her spark as she felt the ship begin to move again, but rather than the gentle pressure of normal forward momentum, this felt like they were falling. She pulled herself off the floor and ran toward the med bay, desperately trying to call Cycle on her communicator and only receiving static. She flew around corners, bouncing roughly against walls and skidding on fuel-stained plating as she ran. She cried out as her injured shoulder connected with the wall plating, but kept moving. One last corner and she would be at her destination. One last corner and she could escape this Pit.
She slowed as she reached the door of the med bay, shoved it open and stopped as suddenly as if she had been shut down. Arclight stared at the empty space beyond the door. Where once there had been a med bay, now there was nothing. A force field flickered like a shimmering curtain, separating the ship from the vacuum of space.
“No,” she whispered, falling to her knees. “No …”
“Well, well, well,” a silky voice said from behind her. “It seems that we finally caught up with our little runaway.”
Arclight turned quickly and scrabbled away from the three approaching Decepticons, stopping only when she felt the force field shock her wing blades.
“There’s nowhere to run, little Medic,” the green one said in his silky voice. He was tall and handsome, and his tone spoke of nothing but fact. Nothing mocking, nothing cruel. Just fact. And that was thoroughly petrifying. “Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.”
“Now, tell us where the cargo hold is and we might just let you live,” the purple one with the rough tone growled. He was shivering with suppressed energy, practically bouncing as he waited for the order to strike. It was just as it had been with Rivet, and Arclight was sure that this time, it would end no better.
“I don’t know what you want,” Arclight replied tightly and she slowly stood. She was petrified but she didn’t dare let it show. She needed to run, to get away at any cost, but if they got even an inkling of that, they’d close the trap so tightly, she never find her way out. “We’re a refugee vessel. We don’t have anything you want or need.”
“I think that we may know better than you what we need and don’t need.” Green snapped, and for a moment, the cool demeanour was lost and Arclight was faced with a being that was cold, deadly, and was quickly running out of patience. She situation was getting worse by the moment.
“Leave me alone with her for five – no, ten breems, and I’ll get her to tell us everything,” the hysterical sounding orange Seeker said with a leer as he stepped closer.
“You can have two breems, Killzone. We can’t spare any more time than that,” Green said.
“Two breems?! I can hardly have any fun in two breems!” Killzone whined.
“No, but you can bring her with us after you get the information we need,” Purple replied, eyeing Arclight with a hopeful gleam in his optics. “And then you can take all the time you need and maybe share the wealth, so to speak,” he added, running his glossa over his lips in anticipation.
Arclight shuddered in disgust and tried to slip her way around the three Decepticons, desperate for a way to escape. She had no idea where she was going to go or even how she was planning on escaping from them, but anything had to be better than this.
“Now, now,” Killzone said, blocking her path. “We’re hardly done with you. I just need you to answer a few questions, and then I promise we’ll be real nice to you. It won’t even hurt … unless I want it to.” Killzone grinned, a frightening, psychotic grin in his optics. This one was a true killer. The worst of what the Decepticons had to offer. At all costs she could not end up alone with this one.
“I will not tell you anything!” Arclight hissed as she pulled her swords from her pocket and activated them with a snap-hiss. “Now let me go!”
“A fighting medic! Now how fun is that?” Purple mocked. “I think I’m really going to enjoy this!” His nervous energy increased exponentially as he anticipated the coming fight.
The three Decepticons closed around her staying just out of reach as they continued to toy with her. Suddenly it was as if something snapped within her and all thoughts of flight were swept away by an incredible anger. There was no logic, no tactics, just the need to destroy these three Decepticons who were threatening her life. She was about to throw herself at Killzone when a violent shudder rocked the ship, sending them all tumbling to the floor. Miraculously she managed to keep hold of her weapons and subspaced them instinctively.
Beyond the door, Arclight could see a rich green world approaching quickly as the Stormchaser tumbled out of orbit. Another shudder and she was thrown across the room. Killzone ploughed into her, crushing her against the plating of the wall. She felt her systems begin to redline as pressure and heat built up around her. Metal screamed as it buckled and ripped, tearing away from the ship. There was a snap and a crack, and suddenly the force field that separated her from the outside died in a flash of sparks. A wash of wind rushed past her, escaping the ship and throwing everything out with it. Debris flew past her and she felt the wind tearing at her, ripping at her rotors and threatening to wrench her from the ship. She watched in horror as the suction picked up Green and flung from the vessel followed closely by Purple. It was the last thing she saw before the pressure and heat finally overloaded her weakened systems, and she fell into the merciful silence of stasis.
Rating: R
Series: G1
Character(s)/Pairing(s): OCs entirely
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.
“Arclight! Wake up!”
Arclight was jarred from her recharge by Cycle as he shook her insistently.
“Leave me alone, Cyke,” Arclight mumbled as she knocked his hand away.
Suddenly a jolt shook the ship, knocking her off the berth and onto the floor. Instantly she was online and alert. From outside of the room, Arclight could hear the sound of running feet, and the cries of panicked mechs.
“What the frag is going on?” she demanded, fighting back a swell of fear that began to churn her tank.
“We have to go!” Cycle’s voice was tight as he took her hand, pulling her roughly to her feet. “I think we’re under attack!”
The delayed claxon of a siren split the air and the room lights cut out, replaced moments later with the red lighting of an emergency situation. Over the noise the communications system crackled to life.
“… -tain speaking. We are under *crzzhth* Repeat, *thrxxxcht* -ack! All hands to bat- -ions! Repeat, all *chrththrx*”
“Who in the Pit attacks a refugee ship?” Arclight growled.
“Who do you think?” Cycle spat as he collected his guns from his locker and subspaced them. With a smooth motion he tossed Arclight her twin laser swords.
“Great. Decepticons,” she muttered as she stored her weapons.
“Come on, we need to get to the med bay!” Cycle ordered.
As he moved toward the door, Arclight took Cycle by the shoulder.
“Be careful. We’re going to be stepping into the Pit out there.”
With the claxon and announcement, the noises from outside increased, as the passengers were thrown into a greater panic. Throughout her career as a paramedic, Arclight had seen more disasters than she cared to remember, and she knew the sounds of a stampede when she heard one.
She and Cycle ran out of their quarters and right into a scene straight from the depths of the Pit itself. Mechs ran through the halls, seemingly heedless of their destination, pushing and shoving each other as they desperately tried to get away from something. Arclight and Cycle stopped only for a moment before pushing their way through the crowd in a desperate attempt to get to the med bay. Another jolt shook the ship sending Cycle tumbling against a wall, painfully cracking his shoulder. From somewhere in the bowels of the ship, an explosion was heard and the ship shook far more violently than it had before. Screams of terror filled the halls and the crowds pressed forward faster, but now, they were all moving in the same direction, opposite from the way that the two medics needed to go. Arclight grabbed Cycle’s arm and helped pull him along through the crowd.
Suddenly Cycle was ripped away from her and carried away by the tide of refugees as they moved in a panicked flock.
“Cycle!” she screamed, her fuel pump racing as she began to fight the flow in an attempt to grab his arm again and pull him to safety.
“Get to the med bay! I’ll catch up with you!” he cried out before he was dragged out of sight.
Arclight continued to push through the crowd, fighting not to be swept away as Cycle had. She needed to get to her friend and she needed to get to him now. But as fast as she moved, he was being drawn away faster. There was nothing she could do. Her logic circuits quickly reasserted control over her systems and she pushed her way into a shallow alcove to regain her bearings. She desperately wanted to go after her friend, but she knew the she needed to keep moving. Even in the name of friendship, there wasn’t time for heroics. She had to have faith that Cycle would make his own way to the med bay as soon as he was able. Besides, if she waited too long, her own fear would get the better of her and she’s never move. As it was, it felt as if her fuel pump was trying to run out of her body.
As soon as the bulk of the crowd had passed, she left the safety of the alcove and ran through the halls of the Stormchaser, past the few straggling mechs, desperate to get to the escape pods. Her only thought was that she had to get to the med bay. Another shudder passed through the ship as the Decepticons continued their assault. The claxons, that had started only breems before, died and an eerie silence descended. The shuddering and explosions stopped, and even the engines were silenced.
The Decepticons had succeeded in disabling the ship.
“All hands! Get to escape pods immediately!” the captain’s voice rang through the ship wide communicator, clear for the first time since she had come on line up.
Arclight ignored the message. She had to get to the med bay. The other medics would refuse to leave until all the injured had been evacuated and she had to help them before the Decepticons got there. She knew full well that the ‘Cons had a history of killing medics on sight, regardless of allegiance, and she doubted that they would care that this was a vessel of peaceful refugees or that this was a mission of mercy. All that the Decepticons ever cared about was bringing destruction and tyranny.
Not that the Autobots were much better. After all, as vaunted as their ideals were, they were just as guilty of destruction as the Decepticons were - the biggest difference was that no Autobot would ever attack a passenger ship. Not while Sentinel was Prime.
She had heard him speak once and it had almost been enough to make her change her beliefs. But she and Ratchet were adamant that they would remain Neutral. They had taken an oath to provide medical care to all who needed it. The oath didn’t say ‘everyone except Decepticons’, and she took that oath seriously.
Her mind was drawn out of her reflections as she rounded another corner, leading her into a corridor that should have brought her directly to the med bay. A wall of broken cables, beams, and debris blocked the path. She was about to turn around to find another route when a she heard a muffled whimper from the depths of the rubble. This area of the ship was deserted and silent, the sounds of the other mechs having faded until they were only a whisper at the edge of her audio’s range, but even so, she had to strain to hear the voice.
“Hello? Is someone there?” she asked as she approached the pile.
“Help … please …,” a small voice said, so softly that Arclight thought she might have been imagining it.
“Hold on! I’ll try to get through to you, just hold on!” she called back.
She approached the pile slowly, looking for the best way to shift it. The problem was that she had no idea of how to do it, or where the victim was. She brought her sensors online and began to scan for the tell-tale sign of a Cybertronian energy signature. After a moment, she found what she was looking for; it was like the rubble was made of translucent glass, she could see the shadow of the injured mech as if he was standing behind an illuminated curtain, filled with thick outlined areas of beams and off-lined cables. While she couldn’t make out his details, she could see his shape and his movements, and more important, she could see the bright white of a small fuel leak. In her vision he registered as a shadow of hot reds and cool blues, an outline of a mech rather than a true picture. He lay on the floor pinned down by the dark outline of a beam.
“I can see where you are, and I think I can get through. What’s your name?” she asked.
“Rivet. M’name’s Rivet,” came the weak reply.
“All right Rivet, my name’s Arclight. Just stay still and I’ll be through in a moment.” She spoke in a soothing tone, making calming motions with her hands, even though her patient couldn’t see them. Her training took over and she tried to keep Rivet as calm and alert as possible, even while her own fear was threatening to immobilize her. It wouldn’t do for him to panic and cause more damage than he had already sustained. “What’s your function on the ship?”
“Sorry, ma’am. … Classified,” Rivet replied. His voice sounded weak and tired, as if he had been fighting far too hard for far too long. Arclight recognized the tone. It was one she often heard from disaster survivors who were about to give up and begin their journey to the Matrix.
“Classified? What do you mean?” she asked as she worked her way past a fallen beam. The ship only had crew and refugees. None of whom had classified designation. Of course, as a lowly paramedic, it wasn’t like she would have known anyways if there had been. Still, the whole notion was odd.
“Not my place to say,” he replied with a grunt, his vocalizer crackling slightly as if his body were under a new strain.
In her enhanced vision, she saw him turn slowly. The heat signatures in his arms registered that he was increasing the stress on his upper body, a sure sign that he was trying to push at one of the beams that held him pinned to the deck.
“Careful, wait ‘till I get there before you move anything. You’re probably hurt more than you realize,” she told him quickly. She tried desperately to speed up her scramble past the debris, but the pile was tight, and the refuse in her way required much thought and planning, lest she bring the whole thing down on her and her patient.
“You’re a medic?” Rivet asked, his voice slurring slightly. “You one of the colonists?”
“No,” she replied with a grunt as she pushed a door out of her way carefully. “I’m one of the crew. I’ll be headed back to Cybertron once we get the colonists settled. What about you? Are you crew?”
“Not exactly,” he replied slowly, a hesitant stilt in his voice. “I’m afraid I can’t discuss it, ma’am, but I am on you’ side. I’m an Autobot.”
Arclight froze.
“An Autobot?” she asked tightly. She held on to her professionalism but at the same time she felt a surge of distaste at his revelation. “I didn’t think we had any Autobot volunteers on this ship. Are you a scientist?”
“I can’t -,” he began, but then cut off suddenly. “Someone’s coming from this side. Go back.”
“What? No!” Arclight exclaimed, making a slashing motion with her hand. “You’re hurt and you need medical attention!”
“Do what you’re told, Medic,” Rivet ordered roughly.
“I most certainly will not!”
“I gave you an order! Now listen and you might survive a few more breems!”
Suddenly he heaved forward, throwing debris off him. The pile shook around her, but miraculously stayed put, and her path back remained clear. The path ahead, however, closed off as a large piece of plating fell in front of her. It was enough to stop her forward momentum, but not enough to blind her “sight” of the area beyond the pile. Arclight saw Rivet stand and there was a flash in her vision, the tell tale sign that the slight leak had become a copious stream. He turned and faced the far corridor, bringing up a massive object that gave off the dark energy signature of an energy weapon.
“What are you doing?! You’ll leak to death if you don’t get help!” she yelled out to him.
“Yeah, that’s if I’m lucky,” Rivet muttered so quietly that Arclight had to strain to hear him.
As she watched, three new figures appeared, entering from the corridor, just beyond her sight. There was something odd about their shape, vaguely triangular. There was a swagger to their steps and their arms showed the dark signature of energy weapons built into their frames.
“Well, what have we here?” a rough masculine voice asked.
“It looks like a poor lost Autobot,” a high pitched, vaguely feminine voice replied with a maniacal giggle. “What are you doing here all by your lonesome, darling?”
“Get slagged,” Rivet growled.
“Oh, now that’s not nice,” a third, masculine, voice said. This one was soft and silky, almost hypnotic and most definitely dangerous. “We just want to ask you a question.”
“Yeah, we got turned around, and now we need some directions. You can help us out, right?” the rough voice asked. The tone was laced with barely suppressed sarcasm, and Arclight could see him practically vibrating with controlled energy. It was as if he was a cyber-hound pulling at its master’s hold.
“Frag off,” Rivet growled, his voice cold as ice and twice as deadly, but there was still pain there, and Arclight could see him swaying on his feet.
As Arclight watched in petrified silence, Rivet raised his weapon and fired at the three Decepticons. The report was massive, sending a violent vibration through the debris pile, and the recoil of the discharge caused his arm to jar backwards. Arclight bit back a gasp as Rivet’s wound began to spill copious amounts of fuel and a blue substance that had to be coolant. Whether his shot was too slow, or his aim off, the newcomers stepped easily out of the way of the shot, and Arclight could see the weapon’s energy hit the far wall, dissipating harmlessly into the ship.
“Awww! Did you miss us?” the hysterical voice asked.
Suddenly one of the shapes, possibly the hysterical one, shot forward and grabbed Rivet, pinning him to the debris, causing the pile to shudder violently. The two figures were now showing as one in her vision, but the portion that was Rivet was growing colder as more vital fluids poured out of a wound that she could only assume was gaping.
“Now, we just need you to answer a question,” the silky one purred. “Where is your cargo?”
“What?” Arclight whispered to herself. She was taken aback and nearly gave away her location by asking the question out loud. Their only cargo was supplies for the refugees, hardly something the Decepticons would be interested in. Rivet didn’t respond to his attackers. Even as the Decepticon shook him, the only response was a quiet squeak as he began to crush Rivet’s vocalizer.
“We’re not going to get anything out of this one,” the rough voice growled. From his shape, it looked as if he had turned away from the scene. The nervous energy had dissipated and he seemed bored. “Just kill him and get it over with.”
“Awww!” the hysterical voice whined. “I wanted to play!”
“Unfortunately we do not have time for that. We need to find the cargo bay,” the silky voice replied.
“Oh, fine,” the hysterical one said sullenly.
Arclight’s vision made the shot look like a beautiful rainbow of reds and whites as the report sounded in her audios. The spray of energon as Rivet’s chest was blown out his back was just as hideously beautiful, and she couldn’t wrench her optics away. A terrified squeak escaped her mouth, exposing her position to the Decepticons.
“We’ve got company,” the grating voice said, turning his body until it seemed as if he was facing the pile and her location.
Arclight scrambled quickly backwards through the wreckage in a desperate bid for escape, but her rotor blades were catching on the debris as she moved, impeding her progress. She escaped the pile in a tumble just as the wall exploded outward in a shower of debris and shrapnel. She screamed out in shock and pain as a sharp piece of metal pierced her left shoulder, throwing her to the floor. Miraculously, the fall saved her from further damage and she was quickly able to get her feet under her, biting back another cry as the shrapnel in her shoulder grated painfully against her joint. She ran from the scene at full tilt, wishing desperately that the halls were wide enough for her to transform, but her blade-span didn’t allow for that, and so she ran as if the Unmaker himself was on her heels. The only advantage of the tight space was that if she couldn’t fly, her pursuers most certainly couldn’t. From their shape they were probably Hunter-Seekers and would require far more space than she did to fly. She heard the Decepticons laughing as they followed, treating this like a game.
She knew the inside of the Stormchaser well, but the damage caused by the Decepticons had rendered the halls nearly unrecognizable. After the third dead end in a row, and with the knowledge that the Decepticons were closing in on her, Arclight decided to take a chance on hiding. It was stupid and insane and would probably get her killed, but it was the only plan her fear-wracked processor could come up with. Hopefully luck would be on her side and the Decepticons would move past her. Once they did – if they did - she could double back and, hopefully, find a safe path to the med bay.
It didn’t take her long to find a room that was mostly filled with debris. A fallen beam provided a perfect hiding place, and in the shadows, her dark grey and blue paint helped to conceal her. Of course, if the Decepticons were using any form of sensor, she would be found in no time, but this was a better plan than wildly, and aimlessly running. At least that’s what she was telling herself. She tried to ignore her logic centres as they screamed at her that this was possibly the worst plan that had ever been thought up. But panic was overtaking her and her choices had been diminished to run or hide. She certainly couldn’t fight three trained Decepticons. While she was a trained fighter and a near expert with her swords, she knew full well that her enemy was bound to shoot her on sight, before she ever had the chance to even pull out her weapons. That was if the Decepticons were in a rush. She didn’t want to even begin to contemplate what they would do to her if they were in the mood to play.
She settled into the hollow behind the beam and waited; her engine idling and
her intakes depressed as she attempted to remain as silent as possible. She tried desperately to fight the sob that was threatening to escape her vocalizer. She was more frightened than she had ever been, and her shoulder ached terribly from her wound. For what felt like an eternity she waited, and then she heard the approach of a measured tread. Slowly they came, stopping by her hiding area. She clenched her dental plating and offlined her optics, praying silently to Primus that they would move on.
After what felt like an eternity the steps moved on. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that she had fooled them, even though it was far more likely that this was all a part of their twisted game. After a long time of hearing nothing, she moved to leave the confines of her hiding place and ran toward the med bay.
Suddenly, her internal communicator crackled to life, startling her enough that she cried out sharply. She covered her mouth with her hand and prayed to Primus that the Decepticons hadn’t heard her.
“Arclight, it’s Cycle. I’m at the Med Bay and you need to get here STAT. We’ve gotten the last of the injured together and we’re about to head to the pods.”
“Oh thank Primus, you’re okay!” Relief flooded Arclight as she replied.
“Yeah, I got away from the crowd and doubled back,” Cycle replied dismissively, concern filling his voice. “But never mind about me. Where the frag are you? You should’ve beaten me here.”
“I got cornered by a group of Decepticons, but I think I’ve lost them. At least I hope I have. Once I’m sure I’ll head to the med bay. It should only be a few kliks,” she replied.
“Okay, good, I’ll see you shortly. You can tell me all about it in the pods,” Cycle said tightly. “Just get here safe. We’ll worry about the Decepticons later.”
She cut the connection and leaned against the wall momentarily. The relief of hearing Cycle’s voice, of learning that he had made it to the med bay safely had sent a wash of hope through her systems. But at the same time, she was quickly losing the rush that was keeping her going. It was just all so much, far more than she had ever had to face before. While she had been in many war zones and disaster areas in her career, it had always been after the Autobots had routed the Decepticons, never while the battle was on. She had never truly had to fear for her life quite like this before and it was taking its toll.
She offlined her optics momentarily and tried to gather herself together. This was no time to fall apart. So after the briefest of moments, she pushed away from the wall, ignoring the ache in her arm, and quickly ran in the direction of the med bay. This time the path was clear, but from the shuddering of the ship and the muffled thumps it seemed that the Decepticons had renewed their attack on the ship. A sudden, violent explosion rocked the corridor, sending her sprawling to the floor in a heap. A wave of fear shocked through her spark as she felt the ship begin to move again, but rather than the gentle pressure of normal forward momentum, this felt like they were falling. She pulled herself off the floor and ran toward the med bay, desperately trying to call Cycle on her communicator and only receiving static. She flew around corners, bouncing roughly against walls and skidding on fuel-stained plating as she ran. She cried out as her injured shoulder connected with the wall plating, but kept moving. One last corner and she would be at her destination. One last corner and she could escape this Pit.
She slowed as she reached the door of the med bay, shoved it open and stopped as suddenly as if she had been shut down. Arclight stared at the empty space beyond the door. Where once there had been a med bay, now there was nothing. A force field flickered like a shimmering curtain, separating the ship from the vacuum of space.
“No,” she whispered, falling to her knees. “No …”
“Well, well, well,” a silky voice said from behind her. “It seems that we finally caught up with our little runaway.”
Arclight turned quickly and scrabbled away from the three approaching Decepticons, stopping only when she felt the force field shock her wing blades.
“There’s nowhere to run, little Medic,” the green one said in his silky voice. He was tall and handsome, and his tone spoke of nothing but fact. Nothing mocking, nothing cruel. Just fact. And that was thoroughly petrifying. “Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.”
“Now, tell us where the cargo hold is and we might just let you live,” the purple one with the rough tone growled. He was shivering with suppressed energy, practically bouncing as he waited for the order to strike. It was just as it had been with Rivet, and Arclight was sure that this time, it would end no better.
“I don’t know what you want,” Arclight replied tightly and she slowly stood. She was petrified but she didn’t dare let it show. She needed to run, to get away at any cost, but if they got even an inkling of that, they’d close the trap so tightly, she never find her way out. “We’re a refugee vessel. We don’t have anything you want or need.”
“I think that we may know better than you what we need and don’t need.” Green snapped, and for a moment, the cool demeanour was lost and Arclight was faced with a being that was cold, deadly, and was quickly running out of patience. She situation was getting worse by the moment.
“Leave me alone with her for five – no, ten breems, and I’ll get her to tell us everything,” the hysterical sounding orange Seeker said with a leer as he stepped closer.
“You can have two breems, Killzone. We can’t spare any more time than that,” Green said.
“Two breems?! I can hardly have any fun in two breems!” Killzone whined.
“No, but you can bring her with us after you get the information we need,” Purple replied, eyeing Arclight with a hopeful gleam in his optics. “And then you can take all the time you need and maybe share the wealth, so to speak,” he added, running his glossa over his lips in anticipation.
Arclight shuddered in disgust and tried to slip her way around the three Decepticons, desperate for a way to escape. She had no idea where she was going to go or even how she was planning on escaping from them, but anything had to be better than this.
“Now, now,” Killzone said, blocking her path. “We’re hardly done with you. I just need you to answer a few questions, and then I promise we’ll be real nice to you. It won’t even hurt … unless I want it to.” Killzone grinned, a frightening, psychotic grin in his optics. This one was a true killer. The worst of what the Decepticons had to offer. At all costs she could not end up alone with this one.
“I will not tell you anything!” Arclight hissed as she pulled her swords from her pocket and activated them with a snap-hiss. “Now let me go!”
“A fighting medic! Now how fun is that?” Purple mocked. “I think I’m really going to enjoy this!” His nervous energy increased exponentially as he anticipated the coming fight.
The three Decepticons closed around her staying just out of reach as they continued to toy with her. Suddenly it was as if something snapped within her and all thoughts of flight were swept away by an incredible anger. There was no logic, no tactics, just the need to destroy these three Decepticons who were threatening her life. She was about to throw herself at Killzone when a violent shudder rocked the ship, sending them all tumbling to the floor. Miraculously she managed to keep hold of her weapons and subspaced them instinctively.
Beyond the door, Arclight could see a rich green world approaching quickly as the Stormchaser tumbled out of orbit. Another shudder and she was thrown across the room. Killzone ploughed into her, crushing her against the plating of the wall. She felt her systems begin to redline as pressure and heat built up around her. Metal screamed as it buckled and ripped, tearing away from the ship. There was a snap and a crack, and suddenly the force field that separated her from the outside died in a flash of sparks. A wash of wind rushed past her, escaping the ship and throwing everything out with it. Debris flew past her and she felt the wind tearing at her, ripping at her rotors and threatening to wrench her from the ship. She watched in horror as the suction picked up Green and flung from the vessel followed closely by Purple. It was the last thing she saw before the pressure and heat finally overloaded her weakened systems, and she fell into the merciful silence of stasis.