Brotherhood
Part 1: Borrowed Time
Marauder, arms crossed, watched a recording of the most recent battle involving the Cybertronian forces on Earth. Somehow, he expected something different. Until recently, he had been attached to a seek-and-destroy unit patrolling the outskirts of Polyhex. His unit’s primary mission was finding Autobot insurgents trying to impact the war in their factions’ favor and eliminate them. The unit was so efficient, so good at its job, that Shockwave decided that several individuals would be better suited in other capacities.
Shockwave himself had called Marauder to his side and informed him of a request from off-world Decepticons for additional units to finish off the Autobots marooned with them. At first, Marauder tried to balk at the order. Until, that was, he heard that the request was made by Megatron. Marauder nearly surged himself unconscious upon hearing the news. Megatron, a legendary leader he knew only from reputation, had mentioned him by name. Megatron, a hero that was to unite all Decepticons under a common banner for their rightful conquest of the galaxy. Megatron, who would bring Cybertron back to its former glory.
Somehow, after the first battle, his opinion of Megatron felt different. From everything that he had heard, he was under the impression that Megatron would gather the energon needed to vanquish the Autobots quickly. He expected genius battlefield maneuvers. He expected swift victory for his cause. Instead, it seemed like Megatron was moving with the swiftness of an undercharged courier drone, harrying the Autobots when they should be annihilated. It had been the same for the last several battles.
Marauder roughly shoved his chair away from the terminal in frustration. On top of everything, he was not being used to best of his abilities. On Cybertron, he specialized in covert operations. He had single-handedly brought down entire strike forces, even before Megatron had disappeared so long ago. He could infiltrate nearly any security protocol without missing a beat. He excelled in tracking his enemies and bringing them to a quick end. But here on Earth, he was being used as a mere warrior. A singular grunt to mindlessly follow orders. It chafed against his very spark to be placed in such a role.
‘Megatron asked for me by name,’ he thought as he watched the battle continue to unfold anew before him. ‘Could he be so blind as to let an asset like me waste away with such a demeaning task?’
The Decepticon leaned forward, pulling himself closer to the computer again. The pivotal moment in the battle was approaching. Like nearly every other battle on Earth, the Decepticons were outnumbered. Marauder repressed a growl, knowing that a lack of numbers was no excuse for hardened warriors like the Decepticons while battling a group consisting of scientists and scouts. Optimus Prime’s group may be elite by Autobot standards, but the Decepticons under Megatron’s immediate command were no less legendary. Yet still, this battle was, for all intents, a failure. They had blundered to the scene and set up the cumbersome energy distiller just in time for the Autobots to arrive. Marauder watched the recording of the battle intently, looking for any signs that pointed to the reason for the failure, any modicum trivial event that turned the tide. Instead, he saw exactly what he saw in the field: nothing. Despite the obvious location they were drawing energy from the planet, once the Autobots interfered they should have defeated them easily. Instead, they were thwarted and driven away with a scrap of energon to show for it.
As Marauder watched the battle, his thoughts drifted from the strategy back to the battle itself. His optics grew wider with interest at two Autobots as they swept through the battlefield with ease. He watched the Autobots in question strike down several opponents, barely flinching as enemy fire threatened to bring their lives to a screaming end. They were relentless and merciless. They were fighting machines, more like a Decepticon in style than a lowly Autobot. And as he watched the end of the battle arrive quickly thereafter, he saw they were also pivotal in the outcome of the battle.
‘Perhaps,’ he thought grudgingly, ‘some Autobots can actually approach a Decepticon’s skill in battle.’
More than that, they were being used in a capacity that suited them. Given their skill and stature, it was obvious that these were not engineers called to the field to do what they could. They were the ultimate oxymoron; they were Autobot warriors. Marauder could not help but wonder if this most basic premise, playing to your warriors greatest skills, had not somehow eluded the Decepticon commander. Slowly, he shook his head, deciding that it was not possible. Megatron’s deductive skills and knowledge of battlefield tactics were beyond measure, deserving of his legendary status. Even still, Megatron seemed to be misusing Marauder’s own skill set. Marauder scowled, thinking dark thoughts about battling with the unsophisticated lot that surrounded him at present. Perhaps Megatron was not aware of all that he was capable of. Perhaps, in their haste to compliment the existing unit on Earth, his superiors on Cybertron had failed to properly inform Megatron of the asset he had at his disposal.
Which brought forth another problem Marauder was having here among these Decepticons. It seemed to be nigh on impossible to get an audience with the Decepticon commander. Marauder certainly did not expect such a busy Decepticon to be at his beckon call, but with just two short minutes, Marauder was sure that he could properly introduce himself and what he had to offer to the cause. Not this warrior garbage, but real behind-the-scenes, covert operations. It was the function he was built for.
Marauder reached forward and froze the image and magnified it, focusing the image on the two Autobot warriors that proved so valuable to the enemy during the battle. As his hands flashed across the screen, prompting the computer to call up any information available on the Autobots, the seeds of a plan were forming.
‘Perhaps if Megatron saw what I was capable of,’ he thought as a smile crept onto his face, ‘perhaps if he saw what he was missing out on, he would then find a better purpose for me here. Perhaps if I were able to destroy who appear to be the two most gifted Autobot warriors, he would hold me in his esteem.’
Marauder’s smile faltered slightly as the computer returned all information on the Autobots in question, which amounted to a pittance, far less than he was used to. After a moment, Marauder shrugged. Digging up relevant information was part of the job, a part that actually helped the operative think through his schemes and find flaws in the plans.
Marauder looked at the images of the Autobots on the screen. “Sideswipe and Sunstreaker,” he whispered thoughtfully. They looked familiar to him somehow, perhaps from Cybertron before they had disappeared. However, in the long run, this was irrelevant. He had a job to do. He set to work.
* * *
Sideswipe casually strolled into the medical bay and looked around the room. Sideswipe was no stranger to the medical wing of Autobot Headquarters, so he had seen Ratchet’s main haunt in every possible decor. Typically, it was spotless and organized. Sometimes it was a frantic mess, where only the medical staff could find their way through the bedlam. This time, the status lay in the spectrum between. About a dozen Autobots had already been through here. Wheeljack and Perceptor had both already dashed off, leaving Ratchet and First Aid to finish with the repairs.
As Sideswipe strolled in and glanced casually at some of the equipment strewn about, he saw Ratchet lift his head and mumble something under his breath about sending out a search party to find the wayward warrior. Sideswipe could not help but smile. He was rarely the first in line to be repaired after a big battle, at least not if he could help it. He wore his wounds with pride. It was a badge of honor of sorts. It told all that he was in a good scrap and that the other guy probably looked worse.
‘And they did,’ Sideswipe thought with a smile. He sat down on a newly empty repair station and waited patiently for Ratchet or First Aid to finish repairs on the Autobots they were working on. Sideswipe pivoted the repair station so that he was face to face with Ratchet’s patient, smiling broadly at Sunstreaker’s dark expression. Sideswipe crossed his arms behind his head and watched Ratchet try to repair his griping brother.
“Hey,” Sunstreaker exclaimed, “watch that laser scalpel I just had my chrome replaced.”
“Well, if you'd quit squirming and let me work you won't have to worry about it,” Ratchet replied gruffly.
Sunstreaker laid his head back and mumbled, “You're doing more fragging damage to my exostructure than the Deceptibums did.”
Sideswipe chuckled. Sunstreaker’s vanity was constant. Since Sideswipe could remember, his brother seemed more concerned with how he looked rather than what he did on the battlefield. At first, this attitude bothered Sideswipe. When both were younger, back on Cybertron, Sideswipe even tried to lecture Sunstreaker about this. Those lectures seemed to fall on deaf audios though. Sunstreaker simply dismissed them with a grunt and wandered off as if Sideswipe said nothing at all. After their first couple of battles, Sideswipe began to understand. It was simply the way Sunstreaker was and how he dealt with residing on the front lines of almost every battle the Autobots engaged. The other Autobots, especially the ones that were not warriors, simply could not understand this. Everybody had to have something to think about when they had a job like they did. Sideswipe pondered adventures, Sunstreaker worried about his looks. It was a necessity if a warrior wanted to mentally survive a war of this magnitude. All of the Autobot warriors had these little idiosyncrasies. Sunstreaker was simply one of the more vocal ones. He liked the way that he looked and he said so. There was nothing wrong with a little pride, at least in Sideswipe’s estimation. There certainly wasn’t any harm in it, though one might think that it was listening to some of the whispers around the base.
Sunstreaker’s vanity also struck him as a bit amusing considering what Sideswipe often looked like at the end of a battle. So often, the twins were seen walking through the base, Sunstreaker all but shining under the lights while Sideswipe was often dented and dirty. Sunstreaker was proud of his flawless armor; Sideswipe was proud of his battle wounds. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’re brothers,’ he thought.
As First Aid moved over to work on Sideswipe, Sunstreaker glared in his brother's direction. Sideswipe took this as a challenge.
“It's not what you do on the battlefield, it's how you look, huh?” Sideswipe asked, with another laugh.
Sunstreaker didn't return his brother's joviality. “I don't know why you're laughing, *bro*. You're the reason I look like this.”
“What are you talking about?”
Sunstreaker moved into a more upright position. “This ” he exclaimed. “I'm in a state of virtual disrepair because of you You go flying off with your damned, energon-wasting rocket pack to supposedly save the day. All the while I'm on the ground saving your sorry hide ”
Ratchet paused and placed a hand on the side of his head, muttering, “Not again.”
Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker, his smile slipping away. “Ah, smelt off, you heap. I can take care of myself up there just fine. I *definitely* don't need any help from *you* ”
“Ha!” Sunstreaker shouted. “You know how many times I blasted somebody who was about to send you crashing to the ground while you were fooling around playing Superman? I lost count ”
“Yeah, well, if I *wasn't* ‘fooling around’ you probably wouldn't even be sitting there right now ”
Sunstreaker pointed a finger at Sideswipe. “That's exactly what I mean ”
“Quit twisting my words around; you know what I was talking about. Face it, you wouldn't even be alive if it weren’t for me.”
“I’m afraid the opposite is true, too, buddy-boy.” Sunstreaker paused. “Anyway, being alive wasn't what I was talking about. I would have made a gorgeous scrap pile if it wasn't for you. Better than being alive and messed-up.” Sunstreaker shot Sideswipe a smile.
Sideswipe laughed in return. “You *are* messed up, Sunstreaker.”
Ratchet stood and backed away from Sunstreaker. “And you're done. Get outta here before you drive me crazy.”
Sunstreaker stood and walked over to the reflective wall and peered at his reflection. Sideswipe rolled his optics in a long-suffering gesture, prompting a soft chuckle from First Aid.
Sunstreaker turned around and looked at Ratchet. “Hey doc, great job I've never seen my axles shine like this.”
Ratchet's mouth twisted into a wry smile as he set about organizing the ramshackle medical bay. “We aim to please.”
Sunstreaker slapped a friendly hand on Ratchet's shoulder as walked toward the exit and said, “Well, I'm off to tell everybody how single-handedly saved the day. Catch ya later, Swiper.”
Sideswipe leaned forward to protest and was quickly shoved back down by First Aid. The medic scolded, “I'm not through with you yet.”
Sideswipe twisted his head around to Sunstreaker. “There is no way I'm letting you take all the credit.”
Sunstreaker laughed and winked at his brother. “By the time you get out of here, everything you did will be nothing but a rumor.” With that, he walked out the door.
Ratchet shook his head and smiled despite his sour mood. “Gee, it's too bad more of us don't have siblings.”
* * *
Sideswipe walked out into the recreation room, casually looking over the repairs that First Aid had just finished. There had been a fair amount needed, but this was nothing new for Sideswipe. Nor did this fact really bother Sideswipe that much. Sideswipe knew that the other warriors often wondered at this attitude. He knew by the shocked looks and the incredulous shakes of the head that they wondered what good it did if rushing headlong into battle meant that he ended up dead. Sideswipe simply shrugged these looks off. He wasn't dead and didn't plan on dying. So he was gung-ho. That was his style; it was what worked best for him. He certainly did not see anybody complaining about the results.
He gazed around at the other Autobots milling about. Most of the Autobots that were loosely in the “warrior” category were chatting idly with one another. Sideswipe could honestly say that he liked most, if not all, of them. The same was likely true with Sunstreaker. But somehow, he still felt a bit set apart from the others, for reasons he did not fully understand. In the moments before entering his recharge cycle, he sometimes would dwell on the subject. The best he had come up with was a need to remain aloof, for fear of them dying in battle. Somehow, the subject came up when talking to Sunstreaker. He said he simply did not completely trust all of them. He liked them just fine. But, in battle, he sometimes wondered if they would truly watch their backs. Sunstreaker tried to brush it off as simple wariness in battle, telling Sideswipe that it was probably nothing more than being unable to articulate it. But the more that Sideswipe thought about it, the more it seemed like his brother was more right than he knew. The number of Autobots whose hands Sideswipe would put his life, or more importantly the life of his brother, were few in number. Ratchet, certainly. A few others as well. And it was those Autobots that Sideswipe felt closest too. It was those Autobots that were truly what he would call close friends.
In the opposite corner, Sunstreaker was talking to Smokescreen and Bluestreak. When Sunstreaker looked over at his brother, he nudged Smokescreen. Sideswipe’s grin dropped slightly as he watched the words “Wait, here we comes” emit from his mouth. Sunstreaker's smile grew larger at Sideswipe’s reaction as the red warrior started walking towards him.
As Sideswipe began crossing the room toward his brother, Powerglide began walking in step with the larger warrior. He had been on a scouting mission during the battle earlier in the day. When this happened, Powerglide usually wanted to hear the details of the battle from one of the other warriors to see what he missed out on.
“So, Sideswipe, I heard you had to have some pretty extensive repairs done today.”
Sideswipe shrugged, still preoccupied with Sunstreaker. “You're surprised?”
Powerglide chuckled. “No, not really. I'd imagine that running full speed into a cliff face with your rocket pack would cause quite a bit of damage. I'll give some flying lessons if you ask real nice.”
Sideswipe’s optics narrowed as he strode toward his brother.
“The price'll be cheap though,” Powerglide continued. “The image of careening into a cliff is payment enough.”
The rest of the Autobots parted the way as he strode toward Sunstreaker.
“Damn, Sunstreaker,” he bellowed, “if your little tales were any taller Omega Supreme would be looking up at them.”
Sunstreaker turned toward his approaching brother with a vicious smirk on his face. He and Sunstreaker had a standing tradition of winding down from a battle by verbally sparring with each other. Sideswipe could not help but smile; he had won the last three contests and he was not about to let that streak die here. ‘Let the games begin,’ he thought.
“Wow, did you come up that zinger all by your lonesome? It's no wonder who need a real warrior like me to constantly pull your bearings out of the fire.”
“‘Real warriors’ don't need to constantly regard themselves with that title. I let my actions speak for me.”
“Bet you wish your actions were mute.”
Sideswipe simply laughed. “I could take down any single Decepticon with one hand if I felt like it. In fact, I believe I did just today.”
“You kind of had to. You let Rumble of all Decepticons put the other one out of commission.”
“So I was shot in the hand,” Sideswipe shrugged. “At least I didn't get face planted by the little twerp.”
“Yeah, well you would have if weren't wasting time showing off that damn rocket pack.”
“Oh, Sunstreaker,” Sideswipe soothed, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. “Be careful. Your true colors are showing through that pasty yellow.”
Sunstreaker looked aghast. “Pasty? I'll have you know . . . “ He trailed off as he looked at the other Autobots watching the word play and cursed. Around them, various Autobots started exchanging credits, paying off bets was to who had won that latest verbal battle. Sunstreaker spun on his heel toward a group of them.
“No no no, he can't win with a low blow a low blow like that.” He turned back toward Sideswipe and shoved a finger in his face. “We said that kind of stuff was off limits. You don't disparage my gorgeous patina and I don't talk about that time when Moonracer beat the circuits out of you.” He quickly covered his mouth in exaggerated shock. “Oops, did I say that out loud?”
The same Autobots that had been exchanging credits paused and looked at each other. They looked at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Finally, Powerglide walked up to the red warrior and patted him gently on the arm. “Dude, you so lost that one.” He turned back to the other Autobots. “Pay up, Cosmos.”
Sideswipe glowered at his visibly preening brother and said, “She did *not* beat the circuits out of me She was venting. If I remember right, you were smelting jealous ” He looked back at the Autobots again exchanging credits, about to protest further when Jazz grabbed his shoulder.
“Just got word from the higher-ups. Prime and Prowl want to see you guys.”
“Right, Sideswipe grumbled, motioning Sunstreaker toward the exit. “That was really low, Sunstreaker.”
“So now the master cheap shot artist, Mr. Do-Anything-To-Win, is glitching about getting what he gives? Could you whine a little more? I've quite gotten sick of it yet.”
“*Master* cheap shot artist, you say,” Sideswipe beamed. “Well, it's an honor.”
“Oh yeah, you're the king of scragheads. Relish it.”
“Well, I'll just make you my court jester. You'll be a shoo-in. You've got the coloring for it already.’
As the brothers started walking toward the command center, Jazz could only shake his head. Smokescreen stepped up behind him.
“Interesting pair, those two.”
Jazz nodded. After a minute, he looked over his shoulder at the red Autobot. Something about Smokescreen's tone of voice made Jazz think there was more to those four words than he was letting on. Jazz knew that Smokescreen often talked with the warriors and reported any interesting conversations to Prime. Smokescreen's statement could mean just about anything, but Jazz couldn't help but wonder if there was something else behind it.
Smokescreen only smiled and turned without another word.
* * *
Sideswipe stood outside the command center with Sunstreaker. Optimus, Prowl, and Red Alert were hovering around a computer screen watching snippets of the battle. From time to time, the three Autobots would pause the image and go through a fairly drawn-out and intense discussion over the events they were seeing. ‘Kind of looks like they're worried,’ Sideswipe thought. Sideswipe didn't remember anything to get uptight about at the battle. There were several new Decepticons, but Autobot Intelligence on Cybertron and Earth had expected it. Most likely, the Autobots were starting to move troops around as well to compensate for this. At least that was what happened back on Cybertron when enemy troops were shifted.
Sideswipe looked at his brother, who was also looking into the room. His blue optics looked lost in thought. His hand was resting against his face, a single finger tapping lightly against his smooth gray plating. As Sunstreaker turned to look at his brother, Sideswipe could tell the same thoughts were running through his mind. The command element was worried for some reason. That was never a good sign.
Sideswipe looked into the command center again, knowing that vocalizing something they both knew would simply be a matter of passing the time. “This is boring. What do you say we get this over with?”
“Sounds good to me,” Sunstreaker answered. “Our audience awaits us. Plus I need my finish touched up; scalpels can be dangerous in Ratchet's hands.”
Sideswipe shook his head in disbelief and walked into the command room. He and Sunstreaker sat in two of the chairs and waited. They were getting quite used to the routine. The command corp would ask different members of the battle a series of questions about what happened. Sideswipe couldn't help but be a little proud of the fact that he and Sunstreaker were the most common warriors at such meetings. It wasn't always good; sometimes there would be a rant or two about orders or something equally as dull. It still meant that they were making an impact and were being noticed. Sunstreaker didn't always share this enthusiasm though. Sideswipe had noticed more than once that Sunstreaker could be a little cold to the command structure of the Autobots. He said that the warriors were underappreciated. Sideswipe usually just dismissed this. How could they be underappreciated if they were often exactly where they sat now, opposite the commander of the Autobots so their brains could be picked?
Prowl crossed his arms and glared at the two warriors. “You didn't follow the plan,” he stated flatly.
Sideswipe crossed his arms behind his head and smiled. “Oh, come on, Prowl. Plans were made to be broken. Besides, didn't we save the day?” After getting no immediate response, he continued. “I rest my case then.”
Prowl shook his head and said, “In the future, it would be advisable to perhaps mention in it to a command officer. Sometimes striking out on your own can be just as dangerous.”
The brothers each made a face after the comment. Prowl knew they were as tired of hearing such lectures as he was of giving them. And Sideswipe knew that there was no doubt in the strategists mind that they would do the exact same thing given the chance and it was pointless to continue with it. They knew his displeasure about it. ‘We just don’t care that much,’ Sideswipe thought happily and watched Prowl move on to the next subject.
“We will discuss that subject further in the preparations for the next exercise. The reason we brought you here was to see if either of you recognize the Decepticons that Megatron called from Cybertron in the past several days.”
Sunstreaker grunted and said, “And what could we possibly know about that?”
Prowl studied Sunstreaker for a moment, as if confused about the tone of the statement, and answered him. “As the most prolific warriors of our battle group, we believe you have the best chance of recognizing the new Decepticons. We have identified most of them,” he motioned toward the screen, “but perhaps you could help fill in the blanks.”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked at one another and leaned forward, concentrating on the screen. Red Alert brought up the first image. The image showed gray and red jet that had not yet been formatted into a Terran form streaking toward the ground. Sideswipe looked at the jet's nosecone and frowned. On it was a series of black and green X's. Sunstreaker suddenly laughed.
“I remember that guy.” He nudged Sideswipe's shoulder and pointed at the screen. “He was the test case for ‘jet judo,’ remember?”
Sideswipe turned toward Sunstreaker, nodding his head. “You're right But I thought he died.”
Sunstreaker shrugged. “Well, ‘jet judo’ was still in its infancy. We hadn't perfected it yet.”
“You know, that reminds me: we still haven't. We've gotta work on that.”
Optimus cleared his throat and said, “Guys?”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stopped talking and turned toward their commander. Sunstreaker gave him a weak smile.
“Sorry, we don't know his name. Last we saw of him he was stationed at Tyrest. You guys can probably get his name from that.”
For the next five minutes, they rifled through images of the new Decepticons. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker did not immediately recognize any of them until the last image. Red Alert seemed to hesitate before showing it. It took an almost imperceptible nod from Optimus to get him to forward the image. Sideswipe doubted most of the Autobots would have even noticed the split-second pause, but he did. His senses were too honed from battle to miss it. The manner that Sunstreaker fidgeted slightly next to him told him that his brother had sensed it too.
Finally, the image graced the screen. Sideswipe remembered seeing the Decepticon on the battlefield. He was tall and stocky and colored in black and light blue. He had been one of the more menacing Decepticons in the battle. He had not crossed paths with him and he was pretty sure Sunstreaker had not either. Sideswipe leaned in a bit closer and studied the image in more depth. Still, he looked somewhat familiar. Sideswipe looked over at Sunstreaker, who only shrugged.
“He looks familiar,” Sideswipe said, “but I can't place where I saw him.”
“Ditto that,” Sunstreaker answered similarly.
Optimus nodded and stood. “Okay, then thank you. Your input has already been a great help. If you have any other information for us, you know where to find me.” Optimus extended a hand to the two warriors. “Good job out there today.”
“Thank you, Optimus,” they answered in unison and left them to mull over what the warriors had said.
After the door shut behind them, Sideswipe turned toward Sunstreaker and said, “What was up with that last picture? It was like they didn't know if they wanted to show us or something.”
Sunstreaker waved his hand in front of his face. “Who knows? Maybe he's some kind of Decepticon criminal those putzes recruited for this or something.” He paused for second and said, “I think they already know. Why else would they have paused like that? They probably just wanted to see if regular 'bots knew about him.”
Sideswipe nodded. He had been thinking the same thing. He still didn't understand why they would do something like that in the first place. Sideswipe didn't have a chance to ponder it any further either. Sunstreaker punched his shoulder and started walking down the hall.
“Come on, Sideswipe. Our audience awaits. And so does an oil bath. I think my color's starting to fade.”
* * *
Marauder paused in front of the door to Soundwave’s engineering lab and took a deep breath in through his intakes. This was it. This was finally his audience with the Supreme Commander of the Decepticons. Marauder was actually a little surprised when he heard that Megatron wished to speak with him. The saboteur had barely seen Megatron. His time was spent on small energon and supply raids, most of which were largely successful. But Megatron had not been present at any of them. In fact, it almost seemed, in that time, that Megatron was not even around. Without other orders, Marauder turned his attention to his own plans.
Several weeks had passed since Marauder set to work on his scheme. He had monitored communications and established a few patterns the Autobots followed on patrols. He studied the odd landscape of the planet he found himself on, finding the perfect location from which to strike from. He felt he was ready to carry out his self-imposed mission; he only needed to wait for the right opportunity. The final act would, of course, be a surprise. He found that he often worked at his best when forced to improvise.
Marauder stepped forward and felt a rush of air strike him in the face. He stepped into the lab and glanced around quickly to get his bearings, an instinct many strong warriors possessed no matter the situation they were walking into. The room was meticulously clean and well organized. The lighting was bright white and sterile. So sterile, in fact, it almost seemed to on another plane of existence.
Marauder crossed to the back of the room, where Megatron and Soundwave were hovering over some project or another. He walked past several Constructicons working on other projects. Marauder gazed around in surprise. There were many such undertakings scattered about the room in varying degrees of doneness. Marauder could not help but wonder what these were. Perhaps a little time should be employed to investigate.
Before Marauder could introduce himself, Megatron spoke, though the Decepticon commander did not look up from what it was he was working on. “You’ve been keeping busy?”
Marauder's optics narrowed with a bit of suspicion. The question sounded innocent enough, but there was an undercurrent tone Marauder could not quite place. It was as if Megatron knew what it was Marauder was working on. Marauder’s mouth twitched slightly in embarrassment. Of course, this was Megatron, he reasoned. Naturally he knew what was going on in his base of operations. It was his job to know.
Marauder glanced toward Soundwave who, unlike Megatron, was giving him his complete attention. Marauder quickly looked away. He remembered the communicator from Cybertron many years ago. He did not like Soundwave’s unreadable gaze. Marauder excelled at being able to deduce how another being was going to react by the look in their optics. Pain looked different from fear. Fear different from determination. Determination from courage. It was skill Marauder prided himself on, a skill he found that many claimed to have, but few truly knew how to exploit. Soundwave, however, was a mystery. He simply stared, seemingly emotionless. Marauder repressed a shiver, as he spoke to his commander.
“Yes, Megatron,” he answered respectfully. “As you likely know, I have a great deal of experience in covert operations. While I am not focusing on the operations to gather energy and battle those Autobots that believe they can stop us, I have been working up a plan to utilize my skills and work toward eliminating some of those Autobots that believe they can approach us on the battlefield.”
Marauder paused, with a reassured smile on his faceplate. It was a short, concise detail. Exactly the sort of thing that he understood Megatron liked from his warriors. Long-windedness did not have a place among the Decepticons; it was efficiency that was prized above all else.
After several moments, Megatron remained silent. Marauder’s smile faltered somewhat. Was he expected to say more on the matter? Did Megatron want a continued detail of his plan? Despite his best efforts to remain focused on Megatron, Marauder found himself looking at Soundwave again. Soundwave had not even moved a micron from his position since Marauder entered the room. He seemed to stare directly into Marauder's laser core. Slowly, Marauder looked away and nearly jumped as Megatron’s glare bored into him, his red eyes glowing intensely in the bright room.
“I know perfectly well what you are doing in your spare time,” Megatron growled, setting down the laser scalpel that he had been using. “I know perfectly well what you are and what you are capable of. You are a backshooting assassin that sneaks through the darkness, quashing the life from those stupid enough to walk through the shadows with you. I have no respect for individuals like yourself who shirk the duties of a warrior to meet your own selfish ends. While you are under my command you will obey me to the letter. In my optics and at this junction in the war, you are nothing but a soldier and that is all I expect you to be.”
Marauder blinked at the harsh tone Megatron used, confused as to what had caused the Decepticon commander to react with such an angry undertone.
“I did not bring you to this planet to assassinate Autobots. I brought you here because I was under the assumption that you were a loyal and competent fighter that could follow simple instructions. There is more going on here than you need to know.”
Again, Marauder blinked. ‘There is, is there?’ he thought mischievously. ‘Perhaps we need to do a bit of digging later.’
“Megatron,” Marauder said, “with all do respect, you could have brought in any warrior from Cybertron to act as a guard for the energy runs we are currently on. Your name continues to strike fear and awe into all Decepticons and any of those warriors would jump at the chance to serve you in this regards. I only ask that you or your lieutenants review the operation I have in place. I am certain that you will find that it can only aid in whatever your endeavors for this world is, because I am also certain that it will result in fewer Autobots to meddle in your plans. I know that you value clear, innovative thinking from your command; I simply want to prove my worth.”
“You presume to know what I value?” Megatron asked acidly, placing both hands on the terminal in front of him and staring down at the smaller Marauder. “I value Decepticons that hear and understand words spoken mere astroseconds ago. I want a warrior and if you are incapable of delivery in that, perhaps you have been misjudged.”
Marauder fought back the urge to gape at his commander. Misjudged? He was a skilled operative that has been lauded by every commander he had fought under. Sneaks through the shadows? He made it sound as though his very function was little more than cowards’ work, something that was beneath a Decepticon.
“Leave,” Megatron stated. “Return to your quarters and forget about your plans for those Autobots. I won’t have your schemes interfering with something grander.”
Marauder turned on his heel and walked swiftly toward the exit. Upon reaching the door, he looked over his shoulder and watched as Soundwave, close to Megatron’s audio input, telling him something too softly to overhear. With another glance around the room, he stepped out into the hall. He walked several paces down the walkway before stopping and leaning thoughtfully against one of the walls. He watched several Decepticons pass by seemingly without noticing him, but he did not care. He played through the conversation again, trying to find where it had gone wrong. Leaning his head back against the wall, he sighed. It was, without a doubt, an unmitigated disaster. But something seemed amiss.
Certainly Megatron would have heard about him. But perhaps his specifications were accidently misplaced with another Decepticon. Perhaps Megatron had the wrong impression of him all this time.
“That must be it,” he whispered to himself.
He pushed away from the wall and stalked swiftly down the hall to his quarters. Entering his passcode, he slipped through the doorframe as it opened and quickly shut it again, making certain that no one was able to so much as catch a glimpse of what was sitting against the far wall.
He sat down next to the makeshift terminal. It was a small scale, stripped-down version of the communications and tracking station in the main chamber. For several weeks he had used it to track troop movements and tap into enemy communications when they were lax in their security. Marauder knew full well that punishment would likely await him if anybody had discovered that he had tapped into the Decepticon command network, but that could not be helped. Too many prying optics in the command room would certainly make his self-appointed mission all the more difficult.
‘Megatron obviously has the wrong impression of me somehow,’ he thought as his finger flew across the dataport. ‘An unfortunate turn of events. He certainly will not give me a chance to point out the mixed message, so I’ll just have to show him instead.’
He studied his chosen location for the ambush and the schematic for the little surprise that awaited his prey inside. Nodding, he pulled himself over to the communications array. Marauder called up a list of Autobots on away duty from the base and smiled at one of the names listed on the screen, an Autobot he had tussled with for a very specific purpose. Depressing a switch near the terminal, he disabled the communications of the Autobot. He then called up the communication program and entered the Autobot’s frequency he obtained in the process. 'This is going to be easier than I expected,' he thought with a satisfied smile.
After adjusting his voice modulator, he said into the computer, “This is Trailbreaker. I'm under Decepticon attack. I need reinforcements. Defense schematics follow.”
After a minute, a voice answered, “Acknowledged, Trailbreaker. Hold tight. Help is on the way.”
Marauder leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was only a matter of time.
* * *
“Nice place,” Sunstreaker sneered as he transformed.
“Yeah?” Sideswipe remarked back. “Thinking of starting a salon?”
Ignoring his brother’s silent mocking laughter, he looked away from the large cave in front of them. Trailbreaker's message indicated that there were three Decepticons pursuing him. He stared for a moment at a pine tree that had been snapped in half. He supposed it was possible that so little damage could have been done if the Decepticons were more precise than they typically cared to be. He stepped up next to Sunstreaker, who was staring up the sheer cliffs that loomed over them.
“Dark, scary cave,” Sunstreaker said. “One way in and out. The Decepticons must think we’re stupid.”
“Yeah, they should know that only one of us is,” Sideswipe smirked before he motioned toward the cave in front of them. Should we check that place out?
Sunstreaker shrugged and said, “Yeah, why not? Age before beauty.”
“Oh, then after you.”
The brothers looked at one another for a moment. They knew each well enough to know that, despite the casual nature of their conversation, their acute senses were honed to their environment. They looked at the cave in front of them and took a step. And both stopped suddenly, snapping their heads to the sky. Sideswipe had heard something, as had Sunstreaker apparently. It was a soft hum but growing louder by the second.
Suddenly Sideswipe leapt to the side as laser fire sprayed the ground around him. As he scrambled to his feet, he peered over his shoulder at Sunstreaker, who was doing the same.
With a frown, Sunstreaker yelled, “Forget about me, focus on the Decepticon ”
Sideswipe craned his head up. As the Decepticon raced out of the glare of the sun, he transformed into a black and light blue robot, the same one that Prowl had hesitated in showing his image. After a moment of hovering above them, he released a volley of laughter that echoed eerily off of the walls of the canyon and flew into the cave.
Sideswipe paused for a minute and asked, “So do we get some backup or do we take care of laughing boy ourselves?” After an amused look from Sunstreaker, Sideswipe smiled. “Silly question,” he said, running toward the structure.
Once at the opening, both warriors slowed to a walk and tried to make out anything inside. The most Sideswipe could see were shadows. The only light shining into the cave was emanating from behind them. Peering ahead, Sideswipe changed that assessment. Dim lights were visible, spaced widely down the corridor in front of them. It appeared that the Decepticon was trying to trap them. Sideswipe smiled, amused at the thought. ‘Well, he doesn't know who he's dealing with,’ he thought as he hefted his gun and motioned Sunstreaker into the cave.
As Sideswipe moved to give his brother cover fire, he gasped as a large metal blade dropped from the ceiling. Sideswipe lifted his foot and pushed Sunstreaker forward. Sunstreaker shouted in anger as he somersaulted to his feet and jumped to the left, narrowing missing another blade swinging past him around another corner.
“What do you think you're doing?” Sunstreaker shouted.
“Gee, I don't know,” Sideswipe answered sarcastically. “Maybe saving your life”
“How? By shoving me right into a sure death. I saw the blade the whole time. So do me a favor and stop ‘saving’ me, all right.”
“Ingrate.”
A voice that seemed to be surrounding them stopped their argument. “This is all very amusing, but I didn't invite you all the way out here just to listen to you two moan at each other. I'm bored. Entertain me.”
With that, laser fire erupted from the wall before them. As they dove together out of the line of fire, each fired several rounds toward the weapons imbedded in the stone, destroying them. Sunstreaker rolled to his feet again and helped his brother to a standing position.
“All this hitting the dirt is gonna dent my chassis beyond repair.”
Sideswipe rolled his optics and said, “Maybe we should stick with priorities.”
Sunstreaker lifted his blaster to a defensive position. “You think this guy is going to give us a problem? There is no way he's gonna get past us.”
Sideswipe peered cautiously around the corner and whipped his head back as more laser fire thundered through the corridor, narrowly missing Sideswipe's head. “He obviously doesn't want us to go this way. Think we should anyway?”
Sunstreaker thought for a minute. Sideswipe admired his workman's attitude toward war when there was something at stake. Others may see them as argumentative in battle, but they had the utmost respect for each other on the battlefield. It might appear that they could not stand each other at times, and even now Sideswipe did not know if it was sibling rivalry or just routine at this point. Whatever it was, it worked for them, so Sideswipe could not complain.
“Let’s split up,” Sunstreaker whispered. Motioning away from the laser fire, he continued, “I want to know why he's herding us this direction. You take the other, boring direction.”
“Oh, so the certain death from laser fire is the boring direction, is it?” Sideswipe said with a smirk. “Can’t wait to hear what you find.”
With that, Sunstreaker jumped forward and sprinted down the left corridor, drawing the laser fire toward him. Sideswipe waited a split second and ran down the other, blasting the distracted weapons to scrap metal. After he was sure that the weapons were offline, he paused for a moment, letting his optics adjust to the darkness again after the bright laser fire. Ahead of him was one of the dim lights that lined the corridor. He followed the corridor toward the light as quickly as he dared, slowly only to disable some trap or another along the way. Sideswipe shook his head. If any Autobot besides Sunstreaker and himself had been sent on this mission instead, they likely would not have made it through the entrance, let alone through the subtle traps that waited for them. The brothers did not brag or anything, but both knew, barring Optimus, they were probably the best warriors the Autobots had. If anybody else had come here instead, they could be dead. It almost sent a shiver down Sideswipe's spine.
The hallway led toward a steep winding pathway. Sideswipe peered up it, squinting into the darkness. After a minute, he began walking up the stairway.
Several steps up a feeling of dread began to fill Sideswipe. Sideswipe despised this feeling. It wasn't fear, just a general malaise crept inside of him. The last time he felt like this, it was on Cybertron. He remembered the moment like it was yesterday because it was the one time he feared he had lost Sunstreaker. The Decepticons had ambushed their squadron. Sunstreaker had saved Sideswipe's life by pushing him out of the path of a plasma missile. Saving his life had nearly cost Sunstreaker his own. It was only quick action by Ratchet, traveling with the small group, that had saved his brother. Sideswipe looked around the path uneasily. This structure was created for one purpose. 'Who is this guy?' Sideswipe thought. He tried to recall where he had seen the Decepticon before. Suddenly Sideswipe remembered.
Stopping abruptly, he reached for his communicator, but never had a chance to activate it. Instead, the floor below him gave out and he tumbled into a deeper darkness. After several seconds, he landed on the ground with a crash. Groaning, he pushed himself to his knees and nearly started as he was helped roughly to his feet.
“Welcome to the slagging party,” Sunstreaker said gruffly, obviously angry at the situation.
Sideswipe glanced around quickly. And needlessly. The two pairs of blue optics barely cut through the darkness. Sideswipe glanced up, hoping to spot the hole he had crashed through, but had no luck in that either. He sighed.
“Well, I guess the Decepticreep herded us in anyway,” he said lightly.
“No kidding,” his brother growled in return, his annoyance dripping from every syllable.
“But don’t you worry,” Sideswipe said, a smile forming on his faceplate. “We’re one short trip on my rocket pack from freedom.”
“Oh, we're back to the almighty jet pack,” Sunstreaker retorted sarcastically. “What was it, about three hours since you mentioned it last?”
“Hey, don’t get all riled up with me, chrome-for-brains. This ain’t my fault.”
“No? Have we forgotten already almost getting me killed when we went into this cave? That Decepticon was right in front of us before that little manoeuver. Instead of sweeping up the spare parts I would have reduced him to, I’m stuck down here with you!”
“Just because you . . . ” Sideswipe trailed off. He could tell he did not have Sunstreaker's attention any longer. He turned his head and tried in vain to see anything in the oppressive darkness. Suddenly he saw a flash of Sunstreaker's blaster strike a figure standing about 60 feet away. It grunted in surprise at the blast and started firing round after round at the Autobots. Each blast dimly lit the room for a half-second, with the majority of the light falling on the Decepticon's smiling face.
Sideswipe leapt from the line of fire, landing on his back. Three quick blasts from the Decepticon illuminated the ceiling enough for Sideswipe to discern some of its landscape. He gasped with surprise at what he saw and launched himself toward his brother.
While in midair, the lights in the room suddenly glowed bright. Sideswipe turned his head toward the ceiling and watched a deadly-looking scythe drop toward Sunstreaker. Sideswipe leveled his shoulder into Sunstreaker's side and shoved him out of the way just in time for the scythe to penetrate Sideswipe's outer metal shell. The scythe, embedded in Sideswipe’s chest, carried him the rest of the way to the opposite wall and pinned him against it. Sideswipe fell offline as the scythe lifted itself through his internal systems and broke through his right shoulder.
* * *
“Sideswipe ”
Sunstreaker screamed his brother's name again as he began running toward him, but he barely had time to take one step. A second scythe raced from the ceiling and crushed the left side of Sunstreaker's chest, pinning him to the wall opposite his brother. He grimaced at the pain racking his frame. But as he fought to keep himself online, he knew one thing. He would be dead if it were not for Sideswipe’s actions. By knocking him aside, the blade missed his vital components. Static intermittently filled his vision, but continued to stare across the room at his brother.
‘He saved my life,’ Sunstreaker thought, ‘and I won't let him die.’ He repressed the urge to free himself and lunge at their assailant. Doing that would only get himself killed and take away any chance of saving Sideswipe. Instead, he did something he despised: he played robopossum.
Sunstreaker let his optics go dark and relied on his other senses. The felt the Decepticon grab him roughly by the face and upturn his head, likely seeing if he had gone off-line. The Decepticon then dropped his grip on Sunstreaker's head and began walking backwards toward Sideswipe, probably to try to trick Sunstreaker into activating his optics. After several more minutes of these games and presumably examining Sideswipe, the Decepticon chuckled.
“Two down,” the Decepticon said gleefully.
* * *
Sunstreaker silently sat beside his brother's restoration station and clutched Sideswipe’s right hand. Though his attention was squarely focused on his brother, he sensed Ratchet stepping up behind him. The medic placed soothing hand on the warrior's shoulder and sat down beside him. He could feel Ratchet's patient stare resting on the crudely patched wound on Sunstreaker's chest. But Sunstreaker didn't care about his own injuries. Sideswipe was his sole concern. 'He saved my life,' was all he thought over and over.
“Sunstreaker,” Ratchet prompted.
Grudgingly, Sunstreaker stopped looking at his brother and turned his head to the medic.
“You brought him here as quickly as you could, son. We're going to do everything we can to get him back on his feet.” Ratchet looked sorrowfully at the red Autobot on the station. “It'll take time though.”
“He needs me here,” Sunstreaker said, knowing what Ratchet was implying.
“And we need you. Sideswipe would say the exact same thing too and you know it.”
Sunstreaker lowered his gaze back to his brother. Ratchet was right. Sunstreaker could not do anything for Sideswipe sitting at his bedside. In fact, Sunstreaker could not do anything physically for him at all. He could save the memory though. Sunstreaker squeezed Sideswipe's hand tightly and stood.
‘I won't let this crime go unpunished,’ Sunstreaker thought. He brushed his hand against Sideswipe's face, holding his sorrow back as best he could.
‘He’s going to pay.’
To be continued...
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