Chapter 1 - Edge Of The System
Submitted December 28, 2009 Updated April 26, 2010 Status Complete | Final part in my Space Bridge trilogy. Transformers (c) Hasbro Gundog (c) Direwolf505 Blue Falcon (c) countramsely Roadtrain (c) Flankfire Everything else (c) me
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Chapter 1 - Edge Of The System
Chapter 1 - Edge Of The System
Epitaph
At least he was only shouting and not taking his anger out physically on the nearest bot to him. It was a small price to pay for getting home. Krusher's ranting had been a staple in the existence of this crew, and if he had a sudden change of Spark and decided to start acting like he actually cared about anyone else but himself, then they'd have serious problems. Or at least, Krusher would. He'd be taken in for re-programming, to try and get his unhinged personality back in check. Thankfully, that wouldn't happen. Not anytime soon, Turbulance mused. Maybe if I hit him hard enough in the head....
'' --- and I swear, if you don't hand over that Teleport Modulator now I will break you apart and use you as spares!'' Krusher raged, turning on his alloyed heel and looming over Turbulance.
All optics on the bridge were turned in their general direction. Roadtrain was sniggering helplessly from his corner, Hookshot, Steele and Flare were trying to be inconspicuouse in their bid to get as far away as possible from the impending fight and Jetstream just spectated from her post beside the chair of command.
''You'll get the TM when we get to Cybertron.'' Turbulance replied coolly.
Krusher balled his massive alloyed fists and took a step forward. Turbulance didn't make any move to back off. Red optics locked in on each other.
''When you're quite done,'' Jetstream piped up tiredly, ''I'd like you to re-direct your attention to the main screen and foreport.''
Krusher growled something unintelligable and hesitantly stalked back to his chair. Settling down, he watched Turbulance move back to his own post beside Flare. Jetstream pressed a button and the foreport buzzed static and switched into a large screen. She toggled the view and a silvery dot appeared in the blackness of space.
''We're here.'' She said simply.
All leaned forward in their seats, as if trying to get a better look at the silver dot that clung to the center of the view screen.
''At last!'' Roadtrain said excitedly.
''It's about slagging time too.'' Hookshot grunted and reclined in his seat. ''I wanna be back to building things, not fighting.''
''I just want to be home.'' Flare muttered.
Turbulance peeled his optics off the screen and swivelled in his chair to face Flare.
''D'you think Crash'll take me on?'' He asked.
Flare started. She didn't think that Turbulance had wanted to be re-assigned when they arrived back. Not after hearing about what happened before and after his supposed death. She'd honestly thought that he'd much rather be left to his own devices.
''Uhm...'' She faltered. ''Probably...''
She wasn't exactly keen on the idea of having to work alongside Turbulance permanently. But then, nobody was. Everytime he was near, she got a mild feeling of impending doom trickle through her circuits.
Turbulance caught her expression and smiled slightly.
''Just keeping my options open. No promises.'' He said in a quiet tone and set about working at his station once more.
''Certainly hope he doesn't stick around here...'' Roadtrain grumbled.
''Don't worry yourself over it.'' Turbulance replied smoothly. ''I wouldn't stick around here even if, for some perverse reason, Krusher just suddenly happened to be the only Decepticon commander left.''
Krusher growled something, but his words were otherwise ignored by his crew.
Solstice
Raid kept an optic on all the system read-outs of the ship. Everything remained at nominal capacity. Flashpoint and Speeder had finally managed to get the energy surges under control.
''I think we've sorted the problem once and for all.'' Speeder transmitted from the engine room. It was a voice only Raid could hear.
''What do you mean ''Think''?'' Raid asked gruffly.
''It means that we'll need to put the Solstice into stasis dock for a re-fit on the main energy couplings when we get back. We're lucky we're still moving at all, what with the amount of damage Krusher did back there.'' Said Flashpoint.
The final leg of their journey back to Cybertron hadn't been easy. Each time they'd got too close to the Epitaph, the Decepticons would open fire with everything they had. So Raid had ordered Deadmetal to keep a distance from the equally battle damaged Decepticon warship that they'd been tailing for several months now after the last shot made direct contact with the Solstice's main exhaust.
''How long 'till we get back, anyway?'' Speeder asked.
''If we keep this pace up, two days.'' Raid replied before disconnecting the line.
He went back to looking at the bridge through the Optic Visualiser, watching over the goings on through the multitude of cameras that were neatly secreted away around the bridge. He then switched to the outer scanners and focused in on a tiny silvery dot that lurked in the distance. Almost home. He thought warmly.
Cybertron - 301st Decepticon Unit
The room was dimly lit with hidden, deep blue lights running in a series of angled lines within the walls, lending it a sinister, yet strangely relaxing feel. It was a place that was safe from the noise and hustle and bustle of war, sound proofed and windowless with only a set of inter-linked computers as contact to the world beyond. There were two workstations laced with monitors and keyboards, one workstation facing the other with a five foot width seperating them both. Sat at one, the spiked form of Crash was busy typing up the day's reports. Utilizing the workstation opposite him, stylus in hand, was Burnout, who was intently manipulating an electronic pad. He paused in his actions when one of his monitors bleeped impishly. His concentration was now broken. He gave an electronic sounding sigh and looked about the dark room. It'd taken him the best part of two hours to gather together the concentration to get the less appealing side of his working life done. And now, that concentration had been blown to pieces by his computer telling him what time it is.
''It'll be good to have Flare back among us.'' Burnout finally rumbled as he tried to get back to working on finishing his reports.
Crash looked at the large Decepticon from across his desk, peering at him from behind the monitor he had been staring at for several hours.
''You have become quite attached to that young female, haven't you?'' Crash said slowly.
The large, be-spiked Decepticon gave what passed off as a half-hearted shrug, his thick armour clanging together with the motion.
''She reminds me of the life I had before the war started.'' Burnout conceded solemnly.
Crash glanced at his monitor and tapped at a few buttons.
''Understandable.'' Crash replied. ''Loosing your entire family unit isn't an easy thing to deal with.''
''It is not. Admittedly, I miss my daughter more than any other member of my family unit. Flare reminds me of her on so many different levels, that if I lose her, it may end me.'' Burnout then twisted his metallic mouth into a semblance of a grim smile.
''Then you'll be glad to hear that the Epitaph has just entered the system.'' Crash replied.
Burnout straightened slightly in his seat.
''How long until they reach Cybertron?''
''Reports say that the ship's badly damaged and cannot engage its Transwarp drivers. They're running on FTL only, so it'll take them a few days to get here.''
Burnout settled back in his seat, rolling his stylus between his large, alloyed fingers, red optics unfocused.
''I've offered that we be the Epitaph's welcoming comitee.'' Crash added.
''Who commands the Epitaph?'' Burnout asked after a moment's pause.
''Some bot designated Krusher. He's had a big loss on the crew front and is only returning with four members of his original crew compliment of thirty. Six, if you count Flare and Jetstream.'' Crash said, scanning through the information that appeared on the monitor to his left.
''Jetstream....'' Burnout mused, rocking back in his chair. ''I've heard that name before...''
Crash glanced back up from his own work from across the room.
''Glad one of us has.'' He muttered. ''I've only had the misfortune of meeting Krusher. The remaining mechs on his crew, besides Flare, are completely unidentifiable to me.''
''It'll probably come back to me once we meet him.''
''Her.'' Crash corrected. ''Jetstream is female. She's an intelligence officer.''
''Ah, I stand corrected.'' Burnout replied, giving a mock half bow in his seat.
Nyxen 3 - Bresham - Furman Household
Julie sat at the cluttered kitchen table, a bag of frozen peas to her left eye to try and ease the swelling and cool the pain that still insisted on lingering there from the previous afternoon. It was one in the morning and the house was dark, her two teenaged children tucked away in their beds, hopefully fast asleep. The only light in the house that remained on was the kitchen light. The greying vixen shuffled through some papers, checking over her signatures, and making sure that they were placed in the correct areas. She looked up, peering through the wide archway and into the adjoining living room as the front door clicked open very cautiously. Then a wirey Fox poked his head into the room, eyes bloodshot, fur ruffled and white shirt creased.
''It's about time you ran out of money.'' She said as he staggered in, leaving the door ajar behind him.
''Wha-choo say t'me...?'' George slurred, ending his query with a slight hiccup.
He swayed toward the kitchen and the stench of alcohol filled the air.
''We need to talk.'' Julie stated flatly. ''Sit down.''
''An' why d'we need'ta tawk, hmn?'' He mumbled, wiping a paw across one burning eye. ''I ain't done nofink wrong lately.''
Julie put the bag of half de-frosted peas on the kitchen table, revealing her swollen eye. George waved a paw dismissively and snorted with a haggard grin.
''Pfff, tha's nofink! Yerv 'ad wurse!''
Julie just glared at him as he swayed toward the stairs.
''We'll deal wif dis in th' mornin'.'' He said with a wide yawn and took the first step towards his bed.
Something inside Julie snapped. Her eyes narrowed and an ear twitched.
''George Furman, you will come back in here and park your arse on this kitchen chair or so help me-!''
''Or sho help yew wha?'' George slurred with a grin as he leaned awkwardly over the banister to look at her.
Julie clenched her fists. She rose from her chair at the table and took a step forward, eyes locked on his. She then smiled a particularily unpleasent smile.
''Remember a few years back?'' She asked sweetly.
George cocked one ear as he struggled to focus on her.
''Remember 'The washing machine tried to kill me?' Hmm?'' She said, her grin now twisting into a snarl.
George twitched.
''If you don't sign these papers, I'll lock you in the kitchen with it!'' She growled, waving the rumpled papers about infront of her as she pointed back into the kitchen with her free paw.
''Are you threatening me?'' George said, now feeling somewhat sober.
''You're damn right I am. I am sick and tired of this!'' She hissed, pointing to her bruised eye. ''If I don't get a divorce, then I'll leave you to play appliance fodder, got it?''
George backed up and descended the stairs he'd climbed, almost slipping off the bottom step. It'd suddenly occoured to him, that the meek, submissive woman he had married some years ago had finally come out of her shell. And she was angry. Very angry. And sat squat and ugly beneath the counter in the kitchen, was the washing machine in question. Spinner watched the next events unfold before his hidden optics and his loathing for the organic called George was upped another notch as he lashed out once again. The run-away Decepticon watched as Julie hit the thinly carpeted floor of the living room. And watched as she stayed there, unmoving.
At least he was only shouting and not taking his anger out physically on the nearest bot to him. It was a small price to pay for getting home. Krusher's ranting had been a staple in the existence of this crew, and if he had a sudden change of Spark and decided to start acting like he actually cared about anyone else but himself, then they'd have serious problems. Or at least, Krusher would. He'd be taken in for re-programming, to try and get his unhinged personality back in check. Thankfully, that wouldn't happen. Not anytime soon, Turbulance mused. Maybe if I hit him hard enough in the head....
'' --- and I swear, if you don't hand over that Teleport Modulator now I will break you apart and use you as spares!'' Krusher raged, turning on his alloyed heel and looming over Turbulance.
All optics on the bridge were turned in their general direction. Roadtrain was sniggering helplessly from his corner, Hookshot, Steele and Flare were trying to be inconspicuouse in their bid to get as far away as possible from the impending fight and Jetstream just spectated from her post beside the chair of command.
''You'll get the TM when we get to Cybertron.'' Turbulance replied coolly.
Krusher balled his massive alloyed fists and took a step forward. Turbulance didn't make any move to back off. Red optics locked in on each other.
''When you're quite done,'' Jetstream piped up tiredly, ''I'd like you to re-direct your attention to the main screen and foreport.''
Krusher growled something unintelligable and hesitantly stalked back to his chair. Settling down, he watched Turbulance move back to his own post beside Flare. Jetstream pressed a button and the foreport buzzed static and switched into a large screen. She toggled the view and a silvery dot appeared in the blackness of space.
''We're here.'' She said simply.
All leaned forward in their seats, as if trying to get a better look at the silver dot that clung to the center of the view screen.
''At last!'' Roadtrain said excitedly.
''It's about slagging time too.'' Hookshot grunted and reclined in his seat. ''I wanna be back to building things, not fighting.''
''I just want to be home.'' Flare muttered.
Turbulance peeled his optics off the screen and swivelled in his chair to face Flare.
''D'you think Crash'll take me on?'' He asked.
Flare started. She didn't think that Turbulance had wanted to be re-assigned when they arrived back. Not after hearing about what happened before and after his supposed death. She'd honestly thought that he'd much rather be left to his own devices.
''Uhm...'' She faltered. ''Probably...''
She wasn't exactly keen on the idea of having to work alongside Turbulance permanently. But then, nobody was. Everytime he was near, she got a mild feeling of impending doom trickle through her circuits.
Turbulance caught her expression and smiled slightly.
''Just keeping my options open. No promises.'' He said in a quiet tone and set about working at his station once more.
''Certainly hope he doesn't stick around here...'' Roadtrain grumbled.
''Don't worry yourself over it.'' Turbulance replied smoothly. ''I wouldn't stick around here even if, for some perverse reason, Krusher just suddenly happened to be the only Decepticon commander left.''
Krusher growled something, but his words were otherwise ignored by his crew.
Solstice
Raid kept an optic on all the system read-outs of the ship. Everything remained at nominal capacity. Flashpoint and Speeder had finally managed to get the energy surges under control.
''I think we've sorted the problem once and for all.'' Speeder transmitted from the engine room. It was a voice only Raid could hear.
''What do you mean ''Think''?'' Raid asked gruffly.
''It means that we'll need to put the Solstice into stasis dock for a re-fit on the main energy couplings when we get back. We're lucky we're still moving at all, what with the amount of damage Krusher did back there.'' Said Flashpoint.
The final leg of their journey back to Cybertron hadn't been easy. Each time they'd got too close to the Epitaph, the Decepticons would open fire with everything they had. So Raid had ordered Deadmetal to keep a distance from the equally battle damaged Decepticon warship that they'd been tailing for several months now after the last shot made direct contact with the Solstice's main exhaust.
''How long 'till we get back, anyway?'' Speeder asked.
''If we keep this pace up, two days.'' Raid replied before disconnecting the line.
He went back to looking at the bridge through the Optic Visualiser, watching over the goings on through the multitude of cameras that were neatly secreted away around the bridge. He then switched to the outer scanners and focused in on a tiny silvery dot that lurked in the distance. Almost home. He thought warmly.
Cybertron - 301st Decepticon Unit
The room was dimly lit with hidden, deep blue lights running in a series of angled lines within the walls, lending it a sinister, yet strangely relaxing feel. It was a place that was safe from the noise and hustle and bustle of war, sound proofed and windowless with only a set of inter-linked computers as contact to the world beyond. There were two workstations laced with monitors and keyboards, one workstation facing the other with a five foot width seperating them both. Sat at one, the spiked form of Crash was busy typing up the day's reports. Utilizing the workstation opposite him, stylus in hand, was Burnout, who was intently manipulating an electronic pad. He paused in his actions when one of his monitors bleeped impishly. His concentration was now broken. He gave an electronic sounding sigh and looked about the dark room. It'd taken him the best part of two hours to gather together the concentration to get the less appealing side of his working life done. And now, that concentration had been blown to pieces by his computer telling him what time it is.
''It'll be good to have Flare back among us.'' Burnout finally rumbled as he tried to get back to working on finishing his reports.
Crash looked at the large Decepticon from across his desk, peering at him from behind the monitor he had been staring at for several hours.
''You have become quite attached to that young female, haven't you?'' Crash said slowly.
The large, be-spiked Decepticon gave what passed off as a half-hearted shrug, his thick armour clanging together with the motion.
''She reminds me of the life I had before the war started.'' Burnout conceded solemnly.
Crash glanced at his monitor and tapped at a few buttons.
''Understandable.'' Crash replied. ''Loosing your entire family unit isn't an easy thing to deal with.''
''It is not. Admittedly, I miss my daughter more than any other member of my family unit. Flare reminds me of her on so many different levels, that if I lose her, it may end me.'' Burnout then twisted his metallic mouth into a semblance of a grim smile.
''Then you'll be glad to hear that the Epitaph has just entered the system.'' Crash replied.
Burnout straightened slightly in his seat.
''How long until they reach Cybertron?''
''Reports say that the ship's badly damaged and cannot engage its Transwarp drivers. They're running on FTL only, so it'll take them a few days to get here.''
Burnout settled back in his seat, rolling his stylus between his large, alloyed fingers, red optics unfocused.
''I've offered that we be the Epitaph's welcoming comitee.'' Crash added.
''Who commands the Epitaph?'' Burnout asked after a moment's pause.
''Some bot designated Krusher. He's had a big loss on the crew front and is only returning with four members of his original crew compliment of thirty. Six, if you count Flare and Jetstream.'' Crash said, scanning through the information that appeared on the monitor to his left.
''Jetstream....'' Burnout mused, rocking back in his chair. ''I've heard that name before...''
Crash glanced back up from his own work from across the room.
''Glad one of us has.'' He muttered. ''I've only had the misfortune of meeting Krusher. The remaining mechs on his crew, besides Flare, are completely unidentifiable to me.''
''It'll probably come back to me once we meet him.''
''Her.'' Crash corrected. ''Jetstream is female. She's an intelligence officer.''
''Ah, I stand corrected.'' Burnout replied, giving a mock half bow in his seat.
Nyxen 3 - Bresham - Furman Household
Julie sat at the cluttered kitchen table, a bag of frozen peas to her left eye to try and ease the swelling and cool the pain that still insisted on lingering there from the previous afternoon. It was one in the morning and the house was dark, her two teenaged children tucked away in their beds, hopefully fast asleep. The only light in the house that remained on was the kitchen light. The greying vixen shuffled through some papers, checking over her signatures, and making sure that they were placed in the correct areas. She looked up, peering through the wide archway and into the adjoining living room as the front door clicked open very cautiously. Then a wirey Fox poked his head into the room, eyes bloodshot, fur ruffled and white shirt creased.
''It's about time you ran out of money.'' She said as he staggered in, leaving the door ajar behind him.
''Wha-choo say t'me...?'' George slurred, ending his query with a slight hiccup.
He swayed toward the kitchen and the stench of alcohol filled the air.
''We need to talk.'' Julie stated flatly. ''Sit down.''
''An' why d'we need'ta tawk, hmn?'' He mumbled, wiping a paw across one burning eye. ''I ain't done nofink wrong lately.''
Julie put the bag of half de-frosted peas on the kitchen table, revealing her swollen eye. George waved a paw dismissively and snorted with a haggard grin.
''Pfff, tha's nofink! Yerv 'ad wurse!''
Julie just glared at him as he swayed toward the stairs.
''We'll deal wif dis in th' mornin'.'' He said with a wide yawn and took the first step towards his bed.
Something inside Julie snapped. Her eyes narrowed and an ear twitched.
''George Furman, you will come back in here and park your arse on this kitchen chair or so help me-!''
''Or sho help yew wha?'' George slurred with a grin as he leaned awkwardly over the banister to look at her.
Julie clenched her fists. She rose from her chair at the table and took a step forward, eyes locked on his. She then smiled a particularily unpleasent smile.
''Remember a few years back?'' She asked sweetly.
George cocked one ear as he struggled to focus on her.
''Remember 'The washing machine tried to kill me?' Hmm?'' She said, her grin now twisting into a snarl.
George twitched.
''If you don't sign these papers, I'll lock you in the kitchen with it!'' She growled, waving the rumpled papers about infront of her as she pointed back into the kitchen with her free paw.
''Are you threatening me?'' George said, now feeling somewhat sober.
''You're damn right I am. I am sick and tired of this!'' She hissed, pointing to her bruised eye. ''If I don't get a divorce, then I'll leave you to play appliance fodder, got it?''
George backed up and descended the stairs he'd climbed, almost slipping off the bottom step. It'd suddenly occoured to him, that the meek, submissive woman he had married some years ago had finally come out of her shell. And she was angry. Very angry. And sat squat and ugly beneath the counter in the kitchen, was the washing machine in question. Spinner watched the next events unfold before his hidden optics and his loathing for the organic called George was upped another notch as he lashed out once again. The run-away Decepticon watched as Julie hit the thinly carpeted floor of the living room. And watched as she stayed there, unmoving.
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