So despite Cersei being born a man and Tyrion being normal height, the impact of their father's amazing parenting still leaves it's Mark?
…
Yeah, that tracks just fine
In The Grim Darkness Of The 41st Millennium, Nobody Beats G.I. Joe!
- Thread starter sun tzu
- Start date
- Crossover
…
Yeah, that tracks just fine
Interlude: Meanwhile, On Cybertron
A rogue planet with no sun of its own, with a chemical composition that favored metallic elements, Cybertron had always been unconventional.
During what many, many people (both on Cybertron and outside of it) referred to as the "Dark Age", it had been the beating heart of a vast colonial empire - the capital world from which the Quintessons sent high-tech robotic armies to enslave many other worlds and species.
But the Quintessons had built their slaves too well. A robotic rebellion exiled the Quintessons from their own planet; the robots, renaming themselves Cybertronians, fortified the planet and prepared for their creators' counterattack.
Many years passed, and the counterattack never came: With the loss of their capital world and most of their cybernetic soldiers, the Quintessons were dealing with the collapse of their slavering empire as a majority of their colonies rebelled in turn.
And so, Cybertron, largely isolated from the wider galaxy, entered what came to be known as the Senatorial Era. Elected leaders guided their society, adapting to peace and freedom with varying degrees of success.
But not everyone wanted peace and freedom. And so came the Cybertron Civil War, which came far closer than the Quintessons ever had to wiping out the Cybertronian people.
And now, with the Civil War over… people were once again trying to adapt to peace and freedom.
"…Of course I stuck with Megatron. What was I supposed to do, not stick with Megatron? He'd been my commanding officer back when we were fighting for the Quintessons. He'd been my commanding officer when we fought against the Quintessons. He was good at it. I always followed orders, things were fine."
The blue-colored Cybertronian - one earthlings had mostly recognized by his jet fighter form - kept going: "So, yeah. He said we'd been built to conquer. That's not an opinion, that's… literally what he and I were built for. Just because we were no longer taking orders from the Quintessons, that didn't mean we were supposed to forget our nature. I dunno, maybe it's easier for you Autobots types, you were mostly civil labor bots under the Quintessons. But 'cons like me, we're designed for conquest."
"Not every military Cybertronian joined the Decepticons, and not every civil Cybertronian joined the Autobots," pointed the other person in the room - an orange-and-white Cybertronian. Rung, one of the planet's few psychologists, had found himself extremely busy after the war.
"OK, sure, but those are exceptions," Thundercracker waved it off. "My point is, war made sense, Senate politics made no sense, Megatron was always in charge and always pulled through - I can honestly say that when he decided to overthrow the Senate and go back to conquering the galaxy, I didn't even think about not following him. I was honestly a little shocked there was resistance afterward. The Civil War, the Autobots, I hadn't expected any of that." He frowned. "If not for Prime, there would have been no Civil War. Cybertron would have fallen in line."
"Optimus Prime was the biggest rallying figure of the Autobots," Rung replied, "but hardly the only one. Jazz, Ironhide, Windblade, Ultra Magnus…"
"Maybe, maybe," Thundercracker said impatiently. "My point is… Yeah, Megatron sometimes went too far. Maybe conquering the galaxy was a bad idea. But I don't really see the point of feeling sorry for following him, because I can't imagine myself not following him when this all started."
Rung nodded, taking some mental notes. In truth, Thundercracker was among the only Decepticons who had been considered fit to reintegrate civilian life - he was at least interested in doing so, rather than in prosecuting the war once more. Compared to many of the Decepticons Rung was visiting in prison, he was practically a model of compassion and sanity.
It was a fairly nice place, as far as most Cybertronian tastes went. Clean, well-lit… but not actually real.
Virtual prison beat physical prison, in the opinion of most people who'd had the misfortune of experiencing both.
"Hey, Starscream."
"Hello, traitor."
The visitor sighed internally, the prisoner not even turning around to face him. "Are you planning to welcome me like that every time I come to visit, Starscream?"
"That depends. Are you planning to betray our friendship and the Decepticon cause every time we meet, Skyfire?"
"Starscream, I only 'joined' the Decepticons for one astrosecond because I didn't know what they were, and because I trusted you. I left as soon as I realized they were engaging in war crimes and slavery. What I don't understand is why you ever joined. You're a scientist for Primus's sake - why waste it all on helping violent oppressors establish a military regime?"
"Because the galaxy is not a nice place, you naive rust-for-brains! The Quintessons are always looking for an opportunity to enslave us again, and they are not the worst out there! To thrive, our people need strength, and unity behind a leader who doesn't need fifty years of politicking just to reach a senatorial consensus! If we don't claim our position as masters of the universe, someone else will - someone even more ruthless than us!"
"Megatron attempted to cause multiple extinction events. It hardly gets more ruthless than that."
"Megatron was just an obstacle on my path," Starscream replied dismissively. "Charismatic, yes, strong, yes, capable of some low cunning, yes - but he didn't have my mind. It was only a matter of time until I took over and organized things properly."
"Are you editing your own memories? Megatron died almost a year before you got captured. You know how that went-"
"THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT!" Starscream bellowed angrily. "Shockwave was the intractable imbecile who divided us by creating his own faction! Shrapnel was the idiot who tried to go it alone with the Insecticons! Thundercracker betrayed the cause - just like you did!"
In truth, some of the sneakier Autobots had actually provided nudges to help the Decepticons fracture into competing factions after Megatron's death. Not that it had taken much, really.
With or without Autobot intervention, of course, the flaws of Starscream's leadership were apparent. Oh, he had some organizational and tactical skills… but at the end of the day, Starscream was always trying too hard, compensating for a lack of self-confidence by constantly praising himself out loud and trying to prove the genius of his leadership.
Megatron had had no such weakness - he had restricted his toxic behavior to belittling and abusing one subordinate, never endangering the loyalty of the others. (That said subordinate had been Starscream probably explained a lot, really.)
"Your notions of how the world works don't appear very evidence-based," Skyfire replied. "They're getting involved with galactic politics, you know. The new Senate. We're not going back to the isolationist policies of the old Senate. And, well. Some of it involves violence - mostly to stop people like Megatron."
"That's naive thinking that will only get us stabbed in the back the moment those people find it convenient. You'll need the Decepticons again before long. You'll see. They'll all see."
Holding a conversation with Starscream tended to be frustrating.
But Skyfire still remembered his friend as he'd been back in the old days, before the Civil War. Before Skyfire himself had gone missing and spent all those years deactivated.
Skyfire had seen a glimpse of that old friend when the Decepticons had found him, reactivated him, briefly recruited him.
And if it took centuries of prison visits to get that friend back…
Well.
Skyfire had all the time in the universe.
Wheeljack was considered one of the greatest inventors of Cybertron, and not without cause. His machines had turned the tide of many battles during the Civil War. As such, the lecture about extremely advanced technology with spiritual components wasn't boring him - far from it. Nonetheless-
"Brainstorm, I'm as eager as anyone else here to hear more about Unicron's ongoing autopsy. But I have to ask - is any of it relevant to what we're doing here?"
"Hm? Probably not. 5… No, 4% chance of relevance, I'd say," Brainstorm shrugged. "Admittedly, given how limited our leads are, that's not a bad number!"
The cheer with which he said it grated a little. Brainstorm, weapon designer extraordinaire, had always made Wheeljack a little uncomfortable - the bot was gleefully amoral. Oh, he'd sided with the Autobots during the war - he'd had no desire to live under a military dictatorship - but he was generally unbothered by the disappearance of the Sol System.
Wheeljack was very, very far from unbothered. Ethical concern for an entire species aside, he'd had friends on Earth. Not to mention multiple human colleagues in scientific circles.
"I wish I could disagree," said Perceptor, "but we are distinctly lacking in leads in our search." The Autobot scientist (and occasional sniper) stared through the ship's window at the empty space where Sol had once been. "Our scans have shown frustratingly little about what happened here."
"But there's no debris, and we know Unicron didn't eat them. The autopsy has established that much," said Nautica. Unlike the other Cybertronian on the lab ship, she had not been an Autobot - she had been among the subset of Cybertronians who had left the planet in the early days of the Civil War (or had been off-planet when it started and never returned), forming various small communities across the galaxy. With the Civil War over, many of those refugees were now returning to Cybertron… often generating decidedly mixed feelings among the Autobot population that had fought the Decepticons for so long. "Maybe if we find enough of Unicron's memory chips to analyze what happened here…"
"A possibility. Logically, however, we know this much: The mass present here was not annihilated. Such an event would have been detected by our sensors." Shockwave, former head scientist of the Decepticon, was not present in person, of course - but their communication system was connected to his virtual prison. Given the importance of locating the humans, Optimus Prime had allowed it. "If it wasn't destroyed, it can only have been moved. Conventional forms of transportation, at such a scale, would have generated an easily-detected gravitic wake."
"So we're back to Earth having had to move from point A to point B without crossing the space in-between," said Chip Chase. A scientific genius and long-standing ally of the Autobots, Chip had been a guest on Cybertron when Sol had disappeared - which made him and a handful of other such guests the only humans confirmed to definitely still be alive in the universe. A sobering thought. "I still think the best explanation available is that they used the transmuter. It'd be a good way to escape Unicron in a clutch."
"You're not wrong," said Wheeljack, "but the problem is, no-one here knows how the transmuter works." He paused. "Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that we may have to invent it from scratch."
He'd be lying if he denied part of him was excited by the challenge.
But, more important than that… several billion lives were at stake, and they had been vital allies.
Autobots didn't abandon friends.
Cybertronians could remain in operation a very, very long time before recharging. Unless they engaged in bouts of strenuous activity, of course, in which case the need to recharge became a far more frequent thing.
For some, it just meant finding some energon. But to many, the recharging process had become a bit of a social event - which was why a number of them were meeting, as was often the case, at an "energon bar" - one run by a familiar blue face.
"I'll say this much, kid," Kup said. "Serving energon in a way that's actually enjoyable rather than just functional, that used to be a real art, and it's a blasted shame that so much of it was lost in the war. But what you're doing here - this whole bar - it's a damn fine step in the right direction."
"Coming from you, I'll take it as high praise. Orbital, really," Mirage grinned as he served another client. "But I earned every bit of it! Hell, just getting Ratchet to authorize the formula was like pulling circuits."
"Your bar wouldn't have been a smashing success if the energon modifications weren't safe," Ratchet replied from two seats over. But then, if Ratchet said something was no threat to one's health, every Autobot accepted it as fact - the white medic knew his stuff, and had saved the life of almost every surviving Autobot at least once over the course of the war.
"I'm still struggling with that concept," said the pink Cybertronian seated between Kup and Ratchet.
"What concept, Arcee?" said Mirage.
"Safe."
"Ah. Yeah, that's a toughie."
Arcee had spent much of the war operating deep behind enemy lines, fighting the Decepticons on their own turf. Everyone was struggling to adapt to the war being over, but it was easier for some than for others.
"I know what you mean," said Kup. "Every now and then I catch myself thinking I'm flat-footed without my weapon and out of cover." He paused. "Then I look around and see a face that doesn't belong in the war, and that snaps me out of it. See that one?" He pointed at a client in a corner table. "Served in my unit back in the Dark Age, packed his things and left Cybertron days after Megatron's coup. That one over there? I remember him doing pro-racing in the day. Stayed on Cybertron two-three years into the Civil War, then went and disappeared into the larger galaxy."
"I try not to hold it against them," Arcee admitted. "We fought and fought and fought and in most cases died to keep Cybertron out of Decepticon hands, and they get to come back at the end and benefit. I know it's unfair to think like that, but…"
"I wanted to join them," Mirage shrugged, "almost did several times. For what it's worth."
Arcee nodded, sipping her energon quietly.
Then Mirage's eyes lit up (quite literally; he had been confused by humans having the same expression despite their dim physiology) as he saw the group that was coming in through the door. "Bumblebee! The usual?"
The diminutive yellow scout nodded. "If it ain't broke… Hey guys."
Mirage and the others nodded at the rest of Bumblee's group. Hound, Hot rod… and the two humans.
"You're looking glum," Ratchet observed. "No progress finding Earth?"
"None," Hound admitted. "We just talked to Wheeljack, and it's not looking great."
Technically, Cybertron didn't need Earth. Oh, the resources the human governments had provided to the Autobots had turned the tide of the war, helped revitalize Cybertron… but Cybertron's revitalization was well-underway. Vector Sigma was even producing new Cybertronians; it was suspected that within a decade, the Autobots would actually be outnumbered by young 'bots who had never known the horrors of the Civil War.
But Earth was Cybertron's first and most significant ally. And for Hound… well, Hound had actually admitted to several people in the room that he had plans to retire from the Autobots and go live on Earth. That had been shortly before it had disappeared, and now…
"Now, guys," Hot Rod spoke, "none of the glum faces. Yes, it's bad. Yes, we don't know it's gonna get better (but I'm optimistic, we've faced worse odds!). I brought you here to cheer you up, and cheer you up I shall!"
Hot Rod could be… a bit much. Still, his relentless positivity had its place.
"So, Mirage," he said, "got anything for human palettes?"
"Sure do," the bartender replied. "I got water, I got water mixed with glucose, I got water mixed with ethanol, I got water with ethanol and glucose, plus variations of everything mixed with carbon dioxide! Still trying to come up with drink names, though."
"How… appetizing," said the older human. Sparkplug Witwicky had been working on an oil rig, and an old hand at it, when the Decepticons had attacked, and the Autobots had shown up too late to stop them but just in time to save the humans. He'd been quick to offer the giant alien robots his assistance, seeing as he knew the planet far better than they did.
"…I'll take my chances with the fizzy sugar water," the younger human said in a dubious tone. Spike Witwicky, son of Sparkplug, had been on the same oil rig - it had, in fact, been his first month there.
"That's the spirit!" said Hot Rod. "And if the drink tastes like garbage, just give Mirage constructive criticism so he can patch it. After all, it won't be long before this place has to serve dozens of humans on the regular. Wait and see!"
"Bring in the accused!"
Venexians were fairly large by the standards of organic life-forms, and the power armor the guards were wearing added another foot. Yet, even with the power armor, their heads barely reached the chest of the bound prisoner.
"Prowl, of Cybertron. You stand accused of foreign interference in Venexian affairs. Of attacks on Venexians national interest. Of-"
"You don't have any kind of legal authority with which to judge me, General." Prowl, Autobot strategist, spoke with no sign of emotion. "Your only authority is military in nature, and even there you are not qualified to preside over a military tribunal. This is only the latest in a long series of illegal actions in which you hijack the authority of Venex's government."
"SILENCE!" the General bellowed. "You have no right to speak of Venex, you alien machine - you have no understanding of what Venex is!"
"I have read extensive documentation, including the entire contents of the Great Ven Library."
"Hard data won't make you understand," the General's eyes narrowed. "Venex is more than facts. Venex is a thousand generations of tradition, history, faith, values. All the things you would take away from us."
"An interesting accusation. You, yourself, proved entirely willing to go against several generations' worth of tradition by denying the legitimacy of the latest election."
"I have only done my duty," the General replied, standing tall. "I was willing to respect the electoral process as long as it respected traditional Venexian values. When the process was hijacked by the galactic conspiracy to put thieves, liars, and debauched thugs in power, I merely stepped in to save Venex's freedom and soul.
"My enemies call me a dictator. I have no desire for power, and I fully intend, in due time, to return full executive power to the royal family, where it should have remained. Everything I do, I do for the good of Venex."
The General, of course, wasn't speaking just to fill time - everything was being recorded, and after some editing would be released to the public.
"Which brings us to you. You and your little army have been meddling in our affairs, attacking military bases, all in support of the rebels. Do you deny these charges?"
"Seeing as you came to power with a coup, I do not consider the other side of this civil war to be 'rebels', but rather the people trying to restore the legitimate government. I do not deny the rest."
"The tribunal recognizes your guilty plea. Rest assured that the rest of your rabble-rousers will be caught soon."
Prowl very much doubted it. The Wreckers had been a particularly elite team of Autobot soldiers during the Civil War. They had often been sent against hard targets behind enemy lines, and won some truly remarkable victories. The Venexians wouldn't be able to take them down any time soon - and they'd already destroyed a fairly significant chunk of the ammunition available to the General's side of the civil war.
"Another thing, General," said Prowl. "I don't have the time or patience to debunk your claims of a galactic conspiracy allowing your least-favorite political party to win the elections, but I must point out that that there has, in fact, been some alien intervention in Venexian affairs besides our own. The cyberwarfare equipment that allowed your initial coup to proceed as smoothly as it did is Quintessonian in origin. Your coup was supported by a brutal vestigial empire trying to claw its way back to galactic relevance."
"I see no reason to entertain such a nonsensical claim," the General glared, already knowing he'd have this part struck from the record.
"The evidence was easy enough to obtain," Prowl went on. "It makes sense, really. The Quintessons want a galaxy where no-one is working together with anyone else, so they can take it over piece-by-piece. Starting a civil war on Venex means Venex can't support anyone fighting the Quintessons. And then, when it's your own turn to be invaded, those cyberwarfare suits would shut your infrastructure down as soon as the Quintessons remotely commanded them to."
"…You're making that up," the General said, suddenly a little nervous.
"It is simple to confirm when you know what to look for," Prowl replied. "From the Quintessons' perspective, you made an excellent useful idiot."
"I will not ha-"
And then a car crashed. Through the skylight.
Generating a blinding lightshow that proved as debilitating for the Venexians' eyes as for the sensors of their power armor. As such, they weren't able to see the car switch into humanoid form and perfectly land on the floor, roll, and grab the General - then shoot an energy beam that released Prowl's restraints.
"Thank you, Jazz," Prowl nodded at the Autobots' special operation agent (and Optimus Prime's frequent right-hand bot). "I was actually expecting you fifty seconds earlier, but you are well within the safety margin."
"I could have been here fifty seconds earlier, but it was such a fun conversation, I didn't want to interrupt," Jazz joked. "So, broadcast everything and take this clown to the resistance, or take this clown to the resistance and broadcast everything?"
Working with Jazz was a pleasure, all things considered. Sure, his unpredictable improvisations made planning a headache, but they served the mission goals. Certainly Prowl preferred it to working with Grimlock… but, well, the Dinobots were busy fighting off a Quintesson incursion on Deneb. And for that, he was grateful.
"With the General captured and compromising data transmitted planetwide, most of his forces are already laying down their arms and discussing terms of surrender," Prowler reported over the video call.
"Which means we'll need an actual diplomat here to actually talk to the legitimate government. I can only go so far as the face of the party," Jazz added.
Optimus Prime, dockworker turned freedom fighter turned military leader turned First Senator of Cybertron's reconstituted Senate, silently expressed amusement (which was no mean feat for someone with a completely static face). "You could easily be among our best in the diplomatic corps, Jazz. But good job - you and the Wreckers both. Hopefully, the Venexians can be persuaded to assist with the technetium shortage on Rigel."
"It would make things a lot easier if more people in the galaxy were willing to actually help other people in the galaxy," said Windblade. Windblade had been part of a small Cybertronian colony established in the years between the banishment of the Quintessonians and the start of the Civil War; despite her clear preference for solving problems by talking rather than fighting, she had elected to join the Autobots in their fight a few years before the war's end. With the Decepticons defeated, she had, to her initial surprise, been made Cybertron's chief ambassador. "Sadly, getting people to understand that cooperation is in their best interest is infuriatingly hard."
"I confirm," Prowler replied. "A small part of that appears to be caused by Quintessonian interference. Divide and conquer."
"Heard Grimlock crushed their invasion force in Deneb, at least," Jazz added. "Figure, a couple dozen more ops like this, and the Quints' go back to being a galactic footnote. Gotta say, though, these ops would be a lot easier with Mirage. You never appreciate the guy who can turn invisible until you can't see him for the wrong reason."
"I don't think Mirage is going back to that kind of life unless things get desperate," Bumblebee spoke up. "You know he was the one most eager for the war to end."
"I know, I know, and I ain't saying we should conscript him. Maybe if I ask nicely…"
"We need to get used to the situation not being as dire as it used to be," Optimus Prime replied, "and we can manage without every single hand on deck. I have confidence in your ability to handle things. The Autobots who remain active on a galactic stage are enough to remind everyone that freedom is the right of all sentient beings."
"We can win the fights we get in", Windblade confirmed, "so the challenge lies in figuring out which fights to get involved in." She was, she would admit in private, still a little sore from how she'd had to talk the Senate out of sending the Wreckers to overthrow the Priest-King of Betelgeuse; she'd had to explain, in minute detail, how the current state of Betelgeuse culture meant his replacement would be no better, and Cybertronian good intentions would be paving the way to Hell in that particular context.
"The fighting's something we got good at, whether we wanted to or not," said Bumblebee. "Diplomacy and fixing the galaxy… We haven't gotten good at that yet. And we still can't figure out what's up with Earth," he sighed.
"Wheeljack's team is still looking into it," Optimus Prime said. "For now, all the rest of us can do is hope. How are Spike, Sparkplug and Chip holding up?"
"As well as can be expected," Bumblebee replied, "but it's not just their spirit I'm worried about. What if they get sick? We don't have any human doctors on Cybertron."
"A valid concern", Optimus Prime nodded. "Perhaps we should ask doctors among our organic allies to look into it."
"You don't want doctors for this," Windblade interjected. "You want veterinarians."
"…Vets?" Bumblebee stared at her in confusion.
"Regular doctors are trained and specialized in treating their own species," Windblade explained, "and those species are going to be wildly different from humans. Veterinarians, on the other hand, are generalists who are trained to deal with dozens of different species."
"And you were surprised they wanted you in the diplomacy corps," Jazz noted with amusement.
So, Optimus Prime sent the diplomatic corps a request concerning veterinarians. And he talked to three alien heads of State, discussing the possibility of a joint anti-piracy initiative in Altair. And he talked in private to a fellow Senator, trying to figure out when foreign intervention was justified, and when it was foolhardy. And he made a public speech about the challenges and importance of Autobots, returning Cybertronians, and newly born Cybertronians mingling and working together. And he voted in the Senate to approve an expanded budget for Wheeljack's research. And he visited Soundwave in prison, partly because he suspected the Decepticon blackmailer knew some secrets that were still valuable even now, but also partly because he suspected if Soundwave learned to extend to others the concern he showed his Casseticons, he could actually become a decent person. And he authorized a military intervention to stop King Vega's nakedly imperialistic war of unprovoked aggression against his neighbors.
All in all… a typical enough day for Optimus Prime, as things went lately.
He had hoped to visit what was left of the docks he used to work at - see if there was anything left for nostalgia's sake.
Ah well.
There might be time tomorrow.
During what many, many people (both on Cybertron and outside of it) referred to as the "Dark Age", it had been the beating heart of a vast colonial empire - the capital world from which the Quintessons sent high-tech robotic armies to enslave many other worlds and species.
But the Quintessons had built their slaves too well. A robotic rebellion exiled the Quintessons from their own planet; the robots, renaming themselves Cybertronians, fortified the planet and prepared for their creators' counterattack.
Many years passed, and the counterattack never came: With the loss of their capital world and most of their cybernetic soldiers, the Quintessons were dealing with the collapse of their slavering empire as a majority of their colonies rebelled in turn.
And so, Cybertron, largely isolated from the wider galaxy, entered what came to be known as the Senatorial Era. Elected leaders guided their society, adapting to peace and freedom with varying degrees of success.
But not everyone wanted peace and freedom. And so came the Cybertron Civil War, which came far closer than the Quintessons ever had to wiping out the Cybertronian people.
And now, with the Civil War over… people were once again trying to adapt to peace and freedom.
"…Of course I stuck with Megatron. What was I supposed to do, not stick with Megatron? He'd been my commanding officer back when we were fighting for the Quintessons. He'd been my commanding officer when we fought against the Quintessons. He was good at it. I always followed orders, things were fine."
The blue-colored Cybertronian - one earthlings had mostly recognized by his jet fighter form - kept going: "So, yeah. He said we'd been built to conquer. That's not an opinion, that's… literally what he and I were built for. Just because we were no longer taking orders from the Quintessons, that didn't mean we were supposed to forget our nature. I dunno, maybe it's easier for you Autobots types, you were mostly civil labor bots under the Quintessons. But 'cons like me, we're designed for conquest."
"Not every military Cybertronian joined the Decepticons, and not every civil Cybertronian joined the Autobots," pointed the other person in the room - an orange-and-white Cybertronian. Rung, one of the planet's few psychologists, had found himself extremely busy after the war.
"OK, sure, but those are exceptions," Thundercracker waved it off. "My point is, war made sense, Senate politics made no sense, Megatron was always in charge and always pulled through - I can honestly say that when he decided to overthrow the Senate and go back to conquering the galaxy, I didn't even think about not following him. I was honestly a little shocked there was resistance afterward. The Civil War, the Autobots, I hadn't expected any of that." He frowned. "If not for Prime, there would have been no Civil War. Cybertron would have fallen in line."
"Optimus Prime was the biggest rallying figure of the Autobots," Rung replied, "but hardly the only one. Jazz, Ironhide, Windblade, Ultra Magnus…"
"Maybe, maybe," Thundercracker said impatiently. "My point is… Yeah, Megatron sometimes went too far. Maybe conquering the galaxy was a bad idea. But I don't really see the point of feeling sorry for following him, because I can't imagine myself not following him when this all started."
Rung nodded, taking some mental notes. In truth, Thundercracker was among the only Decepticons who had been considered fit to reintegrate civilian life - he was at least interested in doing so, rather than in prosecuting the war once more. Compared to many of the Decepticons Rung was visiting in prison, he was practically a model of compassion and sanity.
It was a fairly nice place, as far as most Cybertronian tastes went. Clean, well-lit… but not actually real.
Virtual prison beat physical prison, in the opinion of most people who'd had the misfortune of experiencing both.
"Hey, Starscream."
"Hello, traitor."
The visitor sighed internally, the prisoner not even turning around to face him. "Are you planning to welcome me like that every time I come to visit, Starscream?"
"That depends. Are you planning to betray our friendship and the Decepticon cause every time we meet, Skyfire?"
"Starscream, I only 'joined' the Decepticons for one astrosecond because I didn't know what they were, and because I trusted you. I left as soon as I realized they were engaging in war crimes and slavery. What I don't understand is why you ever joined. You're a scientist for Primus's sake - why waste it all on helping violent oppressors establish a military regime?"
"Because the galaxy is not a nice place, you naive rust-for-brains! The Quintessons are always looking for an opportunity to enslave us again, and they are not the worst out there! To thrive, our people need strength, and unity behind a leader who doesn't need fifty years of politicking just to reach a senatorial consensus! If we don't claim our position as masters of the universe, someone else will - someone even more ruthless than us!"
"Megatron attempted to cause multiple extinction events. It hardly gets more ruthless than that."
"Megatron was just an obstacle on my path," Starscream replied dismissively. "Charismatic, yes, strong, yes, capable of some low cunning, yes - but he didn't have my mind. It was only a matter of time until I took over and organized things properly."
"Are you editing your own memories? Megatron died almost a year before you got captured. You know how that went-"
"THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT!" Starscream bellowed angrily. "Shockwave was the intractable imbecile who divided us by creating his own faction! Shrapnel was the idiot who tried to go it alone with the Insecticons! Thundercracker betrayed the cause - just like you did!"
In truth, some of the sneakier Autobots had actually provided nudges to help the Decepticons fracture into competing factions after Megatron's death. Not that it had taken much, really.
With or without Autobot intervention, of course, the flaws of Starscream's leadership were apparent. Oh, he had some organizational and tactical skills… but at the end of the day, Starscream was always trying too hard, compensating for a lack of self-confidence by constantly praising himself out loud and trying to prove the genius of his leadership.
Megatron had had no such weakness - he had restricted his toxic behavior to belittling and abusing one subordinate, never endangering the loyalty of the others. (That said subordinate had been Starscream probably explained a lot, really.)
"Your notions of how the world works don't appear very evidence-based," Skyfire replied. "They're getting involved with galactic politics, you know. The new Senate. We're not going back to the isolationist policies of the old Senate. And, well. Some of it involves violence - mostly to stop people like Megatron."
"That's naive thinking that will only get us stabbed in the back the moment those people find it convenient. You'll need the Decepticons again before long. You'll see. They'll all see."
Holding a conversation with Starscream tended to be frustrating.
But Skyfire still remembered his friend as he'd been back in the old days, before the Civil War. Before Skyfire himself had gone missing and spent all those years deactivated.
Skyfire had seen a glimpse of that old friend when the Decepticons had found him, reactivated him, briefly recruited him.
And if it took centuries of prison visits to get that friend back…
Well.
Skyfire had all the time in the universe.
Wheeljack was considered one of the greatest inventors of Cybertron, and not without cause. His machines had turned the tide of many battles during the Civil War. As such, the lecture about extremely advanced technology with spiritual components wasn't boring him - far from it. Nonetheless-
"Brainstorm, I'm as eager as anyone else here to hear more about Unicron's ongoing autopsy. But I have to ask - is any of it relevant to what we're doing here?"
"Hm? Probably not. 5… No, 4% chance of relevance, I'd say," Brainstorm shrugged. "Admittedly, given how limited our leads are, that's not a bad number!"
The cheer with which he said it grated a little. Brainstorm, weapon designer extraordinaire, had always made Wheeljack a little uncomfortable - the bot was gleefully amoral. Oh, he'd sided with the Autobots during the war - he'd had no desire to live under a military dictatorship - but he was generally unbothered by the disappearance of the Sol System.
Wheeljack was very, very far from unbothered. Ethical concern for an entire species aside, he'd had friends on Earth. Not to mention multiple human colleagues in scientific circles.
"I wish I could disagree," said Perceptor, "but we are distinctly lacking in leads in our search." The Autobot scientist (and occasional sniper) stared through the ship's window at the empty space where Sol had once been. "Our scans have shown frustratingly little about what happened here."
"But there's no debris, and we know Unicron didn't eat them. The autopsy has established that much," said Nautica. Unlike the other Cybertronian on the lab ship, she had not been an Autobot - she had been among the subset of Cybertronians who had left the planet in the early days of the Civil War (or had been off-planet when it started and never returned), forming various small communities across the galaxy. With the Civil War over, many of those refugees were now returning to Cybertron… often generating decidedly mixed feelings among the Autobot population that had fought the Decepticons for so long. "Maybe if we find enough of Unicron's memory chips to analyze what happened here…"
"A possibility. Logically, however, we know this much: The mass present here was not annihilated. Such an event would have been detected by our sensors." Shockwave, former head scientist of the Decepticon, was not present in person, of course - but their communication system was connected to his virtual prison. Given the importance of locating the humans, Optimus Prime had allowed it. "If it wasn't destroyed, it can only have been moved. Conventional forms of transportation, at such a scale, would have generated an easily-detected gravitic wake."
"So we're back to Earth having had to move from point A to point B without crossing the space in-between," said Chip Chase. A scientific genius and long-standing ally of the Autobots, Chip had been a guest on Cybertron when Sol had disappeared - which made him and a handful of other such guests the only humans confirmed to definitely still be alive in the universe. A sobering thought. "I still think the best explanation available is that they used the transmuter. It'd be a good way to escape Unicron in a clutch."
"You're not wrong," said Wheeljack, "but the problem is, no-one here knows how the transmuter works." He paused. "Which means, ladies and gentlemen, that we may have to invent it from scratch."
He'd be lying if he denied part of him was excited by the challenge.
But, more important than that… several billion lives were at stake, and they had been vital allies.
Autobots didn't abandon friends.
Cybertronians could remain in operation a very, very long time before recharging. Unless they engaged in bouts of strenuous activity, of course, in which case the need to recharge became a far more frequent thing.
For some, it just meant finding some energon. But to many, the recharging process had become a bit of a social event - which was why a number of them were meeting, as was often the case, at an "energon bar" - one run by a familiar blue face.
"I'll say this much, kid," Kup said. "Serving energon in a way that's actually enjoyable rather than just functional, that used to be a real art, and it's a blasted shame that so much of it was lost in the war. But what you're doing here - this whole bar - it's a damn fine step in the right direction."
"Coming from you, I'll take it as high praise. Orbital, really," Mirage grinned as he served another client. "But I earned every bit of it! Hell, just getting Ratchet to authorize the formula was like pulling circuits."
"Your bar wouldn't have been a smashing success if the energon modifications weren't safe," Ratchet replied from two seats over. But then, if Ratchet said something was no threat to one's health, every Autobot accepted it as fact - the white medic knew his stuff, and had saved the life of almost every surviving Autobot at least once over the course of the war.
"I'm still struggling with that concept," said the pink Cybertronian seated between Kup and Ratchet.
"What concept, Arcee?" said Mirage.
"Safe."
"Ah. Yeah, that's a toughie."
Arcee had spent much of the war operating deep behind enemy lines, fighting the Decepticons on their own turf. Everyone was struggling to adapt to the war being over, but it was easier for some than for others.
"I know what you mean," said Kup. "Every now and then I catch myself thinking I'm flat-footed without my weapon and out of cover." He paused. "Then I look around and see a face that doesn't belong in the war, and that snaps me out of it. See that one?" He pointed at a client in a corner table. "Served in my unit back in the Dark Age, packed his things and left Cybertron days after Megatron's coup. That one over there? I remember him doing pro-racing in the day. Stayed on Cybertron two-three years into the Civil War, then went and disappeared into the larger galaxy."
"I try not to hold it against them," Arcee admitted. "We fought and fought and fought and in most cases died to keep Cybertron out of Decepticon hands, and they get to come back at the end and benefit. I know it's unfair to think like that, but…"
"I wanted to join them," Mirage shrugged, "almost did several times. For what it's worth."
Arcee nodded, sipping her energon quietly.
Then Mirage's eyes lit up (quite literally; he had been confused by humans having the same expression despite their dim physiology) as he saw the group that was coming in through the door. "Bumblebee! The usual?"
The diminutive yellow scout nodded. "If it ain't broke… Hey guys."
Mirage and the others nodded at the rest of Bumblee's group. Hound, Hot rod… and the two humans.
"You're looking glum," Ratchet observed. "No progress finding Earth?"
"None," Hound admitted. "We just talked to Wheeljack, and it's not looking great."
Technically, Cybertron didn't need Earth. Oh, the resources the human governments had provided to the Autobots had turned the tide of the war, helped revitalize Cybertron… but Cybertron's revitalization was well-underway. Vector Sigma was even producing new Cybertronians; it was suspected that within a decade, the Autobots would actually be outnumbered by young 'bots who had never known the horrors of the Civil War.
But Earth was Cybertron's first and most significant ally. And for Hound… well, Hound had actually admitted to several people in the room that he had plans to retire from the Autobots and go live on Earth. That had been shortly before it had disappeared, and now…
"Now, guys," Hot Rod spoke, "none of the glum faces. Yes, it's bad. Yes, we don't know it's gonna get better (but I'm optimistic, we've faced worse odds!). I brought you here to cheer you up, and cheer you up I shall!"
Hot Rod could be… a bit much. Still, his relentless positivity had its place.
"So, Mirage," he said, "got anything for human palettes?"
"Sure do," the bartender replied. "I got water, I got water mixed with glucose, I got water mixed with ethanol, I got water with ethanol and glucose, plus variations of everything mixed with carbon dioxide! Still trying to come up with drink names, though."
"How… appetizing," said the older human. Sparkplug Witwicky had been working on an oil rig, and an old hand at it, when the Decepticons had attacked, and the Autobots had shown up too late to stop them but just in time to save the humans. He'd been quick to offer the giant alien robots his assistance, seeing as he knew the planet far better than they did.
"…I'll take my chances with the fizzy sugar water," the younger human said in a dubious tone. Spike Witwicky, son of Sparkplug, had been on the same oil rig - it had, in fact, been his first month there.
"That's the spirit!" said Hot Rod. "And if the drink tastes like garbage, just give Mirage constructive criticism so he can patch it. After all, it won't be long before this place has to serve dozens of humans on the regular. Wait and see!"
"Bring in the accused!"
Venexians were fairly large by the standards of organic life-forms, and the power armor the guards were wearing added another foot. Yet, even with the power armor, their heads barely reached the chest of the bound prisoner.
"Prowl, of Cybertron. You stand accused of foreign interference in Venexian affairs. Of attacks on Venexians national interest. Of-"
"You don't have any kind of legal authority with which to judge me, General." Prowl, Autobot strategist, spoke with no sign of emotion. "Your only authority is military in nature, and even there you are not qualified to preside over a military tribunal. This is only the latest in a long series of illegal actions in which you hijack the authority of Venex's government."
"SILENCE!" the General bellowed. "You have no right to speak of Venex, you alien machine - you have no understanding of what Venex is!"
"I have read extensive documentation, including the entire contents of the Great Ven Library."
"Hard data won't make you understand," the General's eyes narrowed. "Venex is more than facts. Venex is a thousand generations of tradition, history, faith, values. All the things you would take away from us."
"An interesting accusation. You, yourself, proved entirely willing to go against several generations' worth of tradition by denying the legitimacy of the latest election."
"I have only done my duty," the General replied, standing tall. "I was willing to respect the electoral process as long as it respected traditional Venexian values. When the process was hijacked by the galactic conspiracy to put thieves, liars, and debauched thugs in power, I merely stepped in to save Venex's freedom and soul.
"My enemies call me a dictator. I have no desire for power, and I fully intend, in due time, to return full executive power to the royal family, where it should have remained. Everything I do, I do for the good of Venex."
The General, of course, wasn't speaking just to fill time - everything was being recorded, and after some editing would be released to the public.
"Which brings us to you. You and your little army have been meddling in our affairs, attacking military bases, all in support of the rebels. Do you deny these charges?"
"Seeing as you came to power with a coup, I do not consider the other side of this civil war to be 'rebels', but rather the people trying to restore the legitimate government. I do not deny the rest."
"The tribunal recognizes your guilty plea. Rest assured that the rest of your rabble-rousers will be caught soon."
Prowl very much doubted it. The Wreckers had been a particularly elite team of Autobot soldiers during the Civil War. They had often been sent against hard targets behind enemy lines, and won some truly remarkable victories. The Venexians wouldn't be able to take them down any time soon - and they'd already destroyed a fairly significant chunk of the ammunition available to the General's side of the civil war.
"Another thing, General," said Prowl. "I don't have the time or patience to debunk your claims of a galactic conspiracy allowing your least-favorite political party to win the elections, but I must point out that that there has, in fact, been some alien intervention in Venexian affairs besides our own. The cyberwarfare equipment that allowed your initial coup to proceed as smoothly as it did is Quintessonian in origin. Your coup was supported by a brutal vestigial empire trying to claw its way back to galactic relevance."
"I see no reason to entertain such a nonsensical claim," the General glared, already knowing he'd have this part struck from the record.
"The evidence was easy enough to obtain," Prowl went on. "It makes sense, really. The Quintessons want a galaxy where no-one is working together with anyone else, so they can take it over piece-by-piece. Starting a civil war on Venex means Venex can't support anyone fighting the Quintessons. And then, when it's your own turn to be invaded, those cyberwarfare suits would shut your infrastructure down as soon as the Quintessons remotely commanded them to."
"…You're making that up," the General said, suddenly a little nervous.
"It is simple to confirm when you know what to look for," Prowl replied. "From the Quintessons' perspective, you made an excellent useful idiot."
"I will not ha-"
And then a car crashed. Through the skylight.
Generating a blinding lightshow that proved as debilitating for the Venexians' eyes as for the sensors of their power armor. As such, they weren't able to see the car switch into humanoid form and perfectly land on the floor, roll, and grab the General - then shoot an energy beam that released Prowl's restraints.
"Thank you, Jazz," Prowl nodded at the Autobots' special operation agent (and Optimus Prime's frequent right-hand bot). "I was actually expecting you fifty seconds earlier, but you are well within the safety margin."
"I could have been here fifty seconds earlier, but it was such a fun conversation, I didn't want to interrupt," Jazz joked. "So, broadcast everything and take this clown to the resistance, or take this clown to the resistance and broadcast everything?"
Working with Jazz was a pleasure, all things considered. Sure, his unpredictable improvisations made planning a headache, but they served the mission goals. Certainly Prowl preferred it to working with Grimlock… but, well, the Dinobots were busy fighting off a Quintesson incursion on Deneb. And for that, he was grateful.
"With the General captured and compromising data transmitted planetwide, most of his forces are already laying down their arms and discussing terms of surrender," Prowler reported over the video call.
"Which means we'll need an actual diplomat here to actually talk to the legitimate government. I can only go so far as the face of the party," Jazz added.
Optimus Prime, dockworker turned freedom fighter turned military leader turned First Senator of Cybertron's reconstituted Senate, silently expressed amusement (which was no mean feat for someone with a completely static face). "You could easily be among our best in the diplomatic corps, Jazz. But good job - you and the Wreckers both. Hopefully, the Venexians can be persuaded to assist with the technetium shortage on Rigel."
"It would make things a lot easier if more people in the galaxy were willing to actually help other people in the galaxy," said Windblade. Windblade had been part of a small Cybertronian colony established in the years between the banishment of the Quintessonians and the start of the Civil War; despite her clear preference for solving problems by talking rather than fighting, she had elected to join the Autobots in their fight a few years before the war's end. With the Decepticons defeated, she had, to her initial surprise, been made Cybertron's chief ambassador. "Sadly, getting people to understand that cooperation is in their best interest is infuriatingly hard."
"I confirm," Prowler replied. "A small part of that appears to be caused by Quintessonian interference. Divide and conquer."
"Heard Grimlock crushed their invasion force in Deneb, at least," Jazz added. "Figure, a couple dozen more ops like this, and the Quints' go back to being a galactic footnote. Gotta say, though, these ops would be a lot easier with Mirage. You never appreciate the guy who can turn invisible until you can't see him for the wrong reason."
"I don't think Mirage is going back to that kind of life unless things get desperate," Bumblebee spoke up. "You know he was the one most eager for the war to end."
"I know, I know, and I ain't saying we should conscript him. Maybe if I ask nicely…"
"We need to get used to the situation not being as dire as it used to be," Optimus Prime replied, "and we can manage without every single hand on deck. I have confidence in your ability to handle things. The Autobots who remain active on a galactic stage are enough to remind everyone that freedom is the right of all sentient beings."
"We can win the fights we get in", Windblade confirmed, "so the challenge lies in figuring out which fights to get involved in." She was, she would admit in private, still a little sore from how she'd had to talk the Senate out of sending the Wreckers to overthrow the Priest-King of Betelgeuse; she'd had to explain, in minute detail, how the current state of Betelgeuse culture meant his replacement would be no better, and Cybertronian good intentions would be paving the way to Hell in that particular context.
"The fighting's something we got good at, whether we wanted to or not," said Bumblebee. "Diplomacy and fixing the galaxy… We haven't gotten good at that yet. And we still can't figure out what's up with Earth," he sighed.
"Wheeljack's team is still looking into it," Optimus Prime said. "For now, all the rest of us can do is hope. How are Spike, Sparkplug and Chip holding up?"
"As well as can be expected," Bumblebee replied, "but it's not just their spirit I'm worried about. What if they get sick? We don't have any human doctors on Cybertron."
"A valid concern", Optimus Prime nodded. "Perhaps we should ask doctors among our organic allies to look into it."
"You don't want doctors for this," Windblade interjected. "You want veterinarians."
"…Vets?" Bumblebee stared at her in confusion.
"Regular doctors are trained and specialized in treating their own species," Windblade explained, "and those species are going to be wildly different from humans. Veterinarians, on the other hand, are generalists who are trained to deal with dozens of different species."
"And you were surprised they wanted you in the diplomacy corps," Jazz noted with amusement.
So, Optimus Prime sent the diplomatic corps a request concerning veterinarians. And he talked to three alien heads of State, discussing the possibility of a joint anti-piracy initiative in Altair. And he talked in private to a fellow Senator, trying to figure out when foreign intervention was justified, and when it was foolhardy. And he made a public speech about the challenges and importance of Autobots, returning Cybertronians, and newly born Cybertronians mingling and working together. And he voted in the Senate to approve an expanded budget for Wheeljack's research. And he visited Soundwave in prison, partly because he suspected the Decepticon blackmailer knew some secrets that were still valuable even now, but also partly because he suspected if Soundwave learned to extend to others the concern he showed his Casseticons, he could actually become a decent person. And he authorized a military intervention to stop King Vega's nakedly imperialistic war of unprovoked aggression against his neighbors.
All in all… a typical enough day for Optimus Prime, as things went lately.
He had hoped to visit what was left of the docks he used to work at - see if there was anything left for nostalgia's sake.
Ah well.
There might be time tomorrow.
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The Schmuck General is gonna need a Senzu Bean for that burn from Prowl.
Glad to see Cybertron is doing well so far.
darkstarling
Brilliantly Crazed
- Location
- Columbus, Ohio
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I love to see what Cybertron is getting up to after the war, and the perspective of these very old soldiers. Not FOUR MILLION YEARS in your version, I know, which is all for the better. If you're going to treat 'older than hominids' as anything but a big number it takes a lot more thought than they have it. And especially like seeing how they're working as hard as possible to avoid making the mistakes of certain sometimes-well-intentioned nations. Or at least what the people of those nations like to believe themselves to be. But I digress.
Man, what did the Autobots ever do to you? They do not deserve those nightmares.
- Location
- in between
Holy shit Prime, when do you sleep?
It's good to see the Autobots getting to enjoy the fruits of their labours. God knows they go through hell no matter what continuity it is.
Out of random curiosity, do the Dinobots have access to Volcanius, that newish combiner form of theirs? I always thought that was cool, especially since it removes the Beast from existence.
Optimus probably takes power naps.
Aye, and the Autobots here get to keep it. Their counterparts in other alternate continuities don't get lucky.
Serialkilerwhale
Whale, whale, whale, what do we 'ave 'ere.
- Location
- Here
I spent this entire snippet waiting for a table to be flipped and am gravely disappointed.
Evil M. Lurker
What Lurks at Midnight
- Location
- The City, USA
Slaving or enslaving, I think. Slavering has a specific unrelated meaning in English.
Slaver (no 'ing') would also sort of work, though I'd go with 'slaving' as the smoothest option.
I hope not, that combiner is way too dangerous and too risky.
Evil M. Lurker
What Lurks at Midnight
- Location
- The City, USA
Volcanicus isn't the Beast, though.
True but in-universe, will the Autobots take that risk and count on Volcanicus to not try kill them too in its bloody rampage?
Ironhide Sketch
Probably not. The Dinobots are badass enough as is, methinks.
Also, not definitive and not canon, but I tried my hand at drawing Ironhide:
Ironhide looks pure unadulterated awesomeness.
- Location
- MS, USA
Please understand that I mean this in the best way possible... to me, this picture makes it look like he's wearing the world's most awesome Pajamas.Probably not. The Dinobots are badass enough as is, methinks.
Also, not definitive and not canon, but I tried my hand at drawing Ironhide:
Well, now I now what merchandise I should be making for this story! XD
No armor, yeah.
Keep in mind I'm very much an amateur at drawing. ^^'
- Pronouns
- He/Him
well the word "amateur" does come from the French "amateur" meaning "lover" after all.
Also that flag? coming off the star looks trans with the colors you used. Honestly I could very well see G.I.Joe using a trans colored US flag, sounds like something they would do.
Also that flag? coming off the star looks trans with the colors you used. Honestly I could very well see G.I.Joe using a trans colored US flag, sounds like something they would do.
Nope. This is basically 80's era G.I. Joe. Back on Cavitas, deliberate mention was made of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" in relation to a suspected relationship between two of the girls. IIRC, it was implied that Cover Girl and Scarlett were using Duke as beard?
darkstarling
Brilliantly Crazed
- Location
- Columbus, Ohio
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Or were poly - who will have a problem with a Red Blooded American Man (tm) having two women on his arms? But they can't admit to also being with each other.
Mattman324
you expected some anime, non-IRL giant robot, eh?
- Location
- Working in the basement on my giant robot.
Ahaha. No, that wasn't a Don't Ask Don't Tell, that was a Don't Mention It Period, Don't Even Think Too Hard About It.
The American Military didn't allow homosexuals at fucking all until DADT, which wasn't the policy until the fucking 1990s. If you were caught or suspected of being homosexual and there wasn't an outright war going on, you got sent to the psych ward and discharged.
Like, this is the 1980s. Official word from the DAD was that being gay was incompatible with military service. DADT was a step up from all that shit.
- Location
- Malaysia
Reading the relevant passage:
Scarlett is dating both Duke and Snake Eyes at the same time (an effective poly relationship), while Cover Girl (who isn't actually straight) is trying to get Scarlett's attention by flirting with Duke.