Chapter 2 - Commanding The Commander

Epitaph

Everyone onboard the Epitaph was staring straight ahead, red optics fixated on the view before them. Cybertron loomed ahead, the behemothic sphere of battle scarred metal filling the foreport. A multitude of lights dotted the silvery surface of the metallic planet, reassuring them that there was still activity going on down there.
''I can't wait to get off this slaggin' ship.'' Roadtrain grumbled.
''I can't wait to get back to building things.'' Steele added.
''I'll just be glad to see my unit again.'' Flare said.
''I'd voice my opinion, but it'd get me reduced to scrap metal in record time.'' Turbulance muttered, feeling Krusher's gaze boring into his segmented back armour.
''When do we get to dock?'' Hookshot grumbled impatiently.
''When we get the go-ahead from the stationmaster.'' Jetstream replied.
''That should be anytime soon.'' Krusher said. ''I hope...'' He added in a mutter.
All were getting fed up with being stuck within the confines of the ship and were fast starting to get on each others nerves. Roadtrain and Krusher seemed to be suffering the most, with the transporter ending up in the repair bay more than once since they left Muborthia's orbit and the Commander being subjected to numerous EMPs courtesy of the ever calm and annoyingly collected Jetstream.

The comm finally buzzed and a deep, gruff voice cut through the ensuing silence on the dimly lit bridge.
''Decepticon warship Epitaph: You are free to dock at planet-side port Delta-Five. Prepare to be escorted in.''
The line then went silent. Through the sprawling foreport, a single, much smaller and sleeker ship of deep purple maneuvered toward them.
''Follow that ship and don't mess up.'' Krusher rumbled.
The area was packed with free-floating debris of all different shapes, sizes and origins. Some was Autobot, other pieces Decepticon. A sheet of charred and twisted white metal with the melted remains of an Autobot insignia imprinted on it bounced off the foreport with a dull clang before disappearing upwards, and into the cold expanse of space. Ahead of them, their escort pierced through Cybertron's atmosphere with a flurry of white hot flames engulfing the hull very briefly. The same occoured to the Epitaph, the medium class warship giving a begrudging shudder as it too forced its way through to Cybertron. Lurking ahead, partially hidden beneath a mass of hanging and pinned wiring, cables and crane arms, was the docking pad they'd been assigned to.

The flat surface was decorated by sprawling chars of different sizes caused by explosions. Be they caused by the enemy or not, it didn't fill any of the crew with confidence in where they would be leaving their beloved ship. A crane arm swung out of the way, trailing its chains and cables, allowing them full access. The smaller escorting ship banked and tilted back on its course, heading back into orbit.
''Oh wow...'' Jetstream said upon spying the massive crater that had torn away part of the side plating of the docking pad, leaving one side unlit. ''Glad I weren't here when that happened...''
Just off to one side of the battered pad, two figures stood, one over shadowing the other. Both wore dark, spiked armour and their red optics were cast upwards, toward the carefully descending shape of the Epitaph.
''Looks like we got ourselves a welcome party.'' Hookshot said when he spotted the two Decepticons.
''Whatever's happened, I had nothing to do with it.'' Turbulance put in before Krusher's words could even be properly formed in his vocal processors.
The large Decepticon looked at his subordinate for a long moment and shook his head.
''You're always guilty of something, Turbulance. Even when you're stasis napping.'' He rumbled.
Turbulance made an odd noise as if he'd just been shot and cast a disdainful look over his black armoured shoulder at Krusher. Roadtrain snorted but ultimately held back his laugh and the comment that'd suddenly risen in his mind.

''Landing gear extended.'' Steele announced, halting the squabble before it had a chance to arise.
''Five - Four - Three - Two... Touch down.'' Jetstream said, hidden optics glued to the screen before her. ''Re-fueling lines are in and the Epitaph has been secured down.''
There was a moment of silence on the bridge. It all felt surreal. For too long they'd been away from home. For too long they'd been warring on an alien planet. It was, undoubtedly good to be home once again, after spending so many years on Earth.
''Before you all run off to the nearest bar to get hopelessly frazzed on Energon, we still have work to do.'' Krusher said sternly as he rose from his seat. ''Our base is three leagues away from this port. Updates tell me that it is now right on the brink of Decepticon territory.''
''Oh that's just wonderful.'' Roadtrain grumbled unhappily. ''We get home, and we get ambushed by a group of trigger happy rust buckets with diodes for central processors.''
Krusher ignored the comment for the moment and got on with issuing orders.
''We need to get the Space Bridge there and re-built as quick as possible. So that means, myself and Roadtrain will be doing the carrying. Jetstream, I want you to fly ahead and make sure everything's secure before we leave. Once there, let me know and we'll move out. Hookshot and Steele, you'll be Roadtrain's escort incase we do get ambushed. Turbulance, Flare. You have yourselves one last job before you get to go about your own business again. You'll be escorting me, since I too, will be heavily laden and will be unable to defend myself efficiently during an attack.''
Krusher's expression was enough to beat any protests from the crew into submission. They were so close to completing their task. They couldn't screw up now. Even Roadtrain obeyed with minimum fuss.
All rose locked down their consoles and rose from their stations. Flare hesitated when she caught a proper glimpse of who had been awaiting the Epitaph's arrival.
''C'mon,'' Roadtrain muttered, shooing the smaller Decepticon away from her seat, ''we still got work to do before you can run off back to your own unit.''
Flare hesitated a moment longer then finally gave in to the older Decepticon's usherings and followed the others off the bridge and into the cargo hold.


Nyxen 3 - Hospital

Poppy and Lee sat on the large chair beside their mother's bed. An oxygen mask was pulled over her muzzle and there was a large bald patch curling around to her forehead from the base of her ear, stiches lining the garish pink and red tinged flesh that had been revealed. George was outside talking to the doctor in charge, a heated discussion in which neither of the young teenagers cared to hear. He'd done this to her. He'd put her in the hospital. They knew he was making up excuses, trying to wriggle his way out of the repercussions that would surely follow such an incident. Outside, the weather mimicked their mood. Lightening split the early morning sky with brief flashes of white, the rumbling of each of the strikes thunder swiftly following. Rain was battering the window, pelting down to the earth in large globules of icy cold. Clinging precariously to the outside of the building and peering in through the partially curtained window, three red optics watched what was happening. When the hospital room door opened, Spinner ducked down, pulling a chunk of brick away with one of his metallic claws as he moved, almost losing his grip. He cast a quick look down. It was a ten storey fall, and the ex-Decepticon wasn't warm on the idea of testing to see what'd happen if he fell. An organic would surely die. A mech of his short stature and thin build would possibly end up badly damaged if he landed wrong. He adjusted his position and continued to watch the goings on inside the room. George was stood at the door, running a dark brown paw through his ruffled, greasy hair as the doctor was talking to the kids. Julie cracked open her eyes a couple of times, but otherwise lapsed back into a state of unconsciousness after a few seconds. Even with his powerful auditory receptors, Spinner was having a hard time understanding what they were saying. The window was a thick double glazing, the thunder was enough to give a deaf person a headache and the rain was clanging loudly and efficiently on his armour. A dribble of water slid down one of his protective optic lenses, blurring one side of his vision. He swore and shook his head, two thin pieces of alien metal sliding down across the lense like an organic would blink. When he opened his optic again, half his vision was still blurred.

And to sort the problem out, would mean to let go of his current precarious purchase on the side of the building. He decided that he'd put up with the interferred vision for a while longer and continued watching the foxes inside the room. George made an odd, helpless flailing gesture with his paws as he said something then walked out of the room, leaving his children with the doctor and his unconsciouse wife. Spinner snorted something and started the skittering descent down the side of the building. When he reached the second floor, he gave one last look around at his surroundings. Finding no one around to see him, he pushed away from the wall and landed with a wet clack on the pavement, the sound of the storm helping cover any noise he made. He looked around again and took off across the car park, darting between cars and shuffling about in the blind spots of the security cameras, optics constantly scanning his immediate surroundings and his radar system searching the rest of the car park. It was four AM, and all was relatively quiet. He spied the thick band of trees that lined one side of the hospital perimeter and ducked down, before taking off at a sprint across the car park, metallic feet clacking on the tarmac and concrete as he moved, weaving between cars and jumping effortlessly over them. When he reached the tall fence, he didn't slow. He just lept at it and clambered neatly over the top, paying no heed to the razor wire that lined its top. He knew where George was going. And he needed to get back to the house before that irritable organic did and realised that the washing machine wasn't there.


Solstice

Flashpoint and Speeder stood over the open casing of one of the main engines. A flap had been pulled free to allow sufficient access to the innards of the powerful machine. Cables hung loose and an outer fuel line had been fractured, and was slowly dribbling the thick, bright purple fluid of Energon. Speeder turned around, long, thin spanner in one hand, and he peered into the innards of the second main engine. He made an odd, dismissive sound, that resembled more of a low buzz than anything else.
''And who's gonna be repairing these?'' Speeder asked, not for the first time.
Flashpoint planted a hand on one hip and balanced most of his weight on one leg as he rolled a small, charred black cylinder between alloyed forefinger and thumb thoughtfully.
''A couple of old friends of mine.'' He said after a moment.
''Yeah... Chassis, Thunderbug and... Uh...'' Speeder searched the haphazardedness of his data banks for that third designation. ''Mainframe. Right...?''
Flashpoint nodded, with a hint of a smile.
''I see that clump on the head hasn't fried your memory too badly. Shame really...'' Flashpoint sighed.
Speeder tilted his head slightly in questioning.
''Why...?'' He asked slowly, not entirely sure if he really wanted to know.
''I was looking forward to practicing my processor surgery skills.'' The medical officer said and walked across the engine room.
''What?! I'd much rather you practiced those skills on someone else. I'm sure Falcon would be keen to help. Or even Raid.''
Flashpoint snorted.
''Yeah! Right!'' He laughed. ''Raid is too stubborn and Blue Falcon is smarter than he looks.''
''Are you vying for some kind of an ego boost? 'Cause if you are, you ain't gonna get it. At least, not from me. And not yet.'' Speeder folded his armoured arms across his chest.
Flashpoint chuckled and shook his head slowly.

''Hand me that length of ribbed piping, will you?'' He said as he crouched down in the middle of the dimly lit engine room, pulling a panel from its place in the floor.
Speeder did as was told and handed the length of flexible black piping to the medic-cum-mechanic. Flashpoint took it and pulled another, identical, yet heavily worn piece of piping from the square hole, swiftly replacing it with the fresh piece. He straighted and held up the old piece of pipe, blue optics flashing curiously in the near darkness as he inspected it. He then looked down at the new piece and nodded approvingly.
''That'll hold for another few stellar cycles.'' He said and tossed the worn length of piping at Speeder who deftly caught it in one hand. ''As for the engines, well, they'll have to do as they are until we dock.''
He rose from his kneeling position on the floor and replaced the panel.
''I certainly hope so. I dunno 'bout you, but I don't want to be breaking down. Not now we're only a few hours from Cybertron.'' Speeder said pointedly.
''Yeah. I can see Thunderbug having a wail of a time at our expense if that happens. So stay quiet and don't jinx us.'' Flashpoint replied and wandered over to a neatly stacked pile of old parts that was situated in a series of different sized metallic crates in the far corner of the room. He dumped the worn length of piping in a small box that was full to brim with frayed and holed pieces of cable and piping. The in-ship comm buzzed then Raid's voice sounded though the murk of the engine room.
''One hour until we dock.'' He announced then the line went dead again.
Speeder grinned broadly.
''Nearly home.'' He said enthusiastically.
''And it'll be good to be back, too. We've spent far too long away from Cybertron.''


Cybertron - Ankmor

Crash and Burnout watched as a lone vehicle rumbled down the rear ramp of the Epitaph. The vehicle was large, bulky and had a canvas styled covered buck. It was also very heavily loaded and the low, grating noise of alien music pounded from the Cybertronian cab. Following closely behind Roadtrain, Hookshot and Steele followed, their metallic caterpillar treads clacking and squeeking in unison across the hard metal ground as they disbanded from the ship in vehicle mode. Krusher was already sat out on the landing pad next to the large ship, loading doors open, awaiting to be loaded with what he could carry. Turbulance and Flare walked down the Epitaph's ramp, carrying as much as they could, loading Krusher up as fast as they could. The sooner they got this task completed, the sooner they could go about their own business again. Burnout followed Crash closely as they walked across the landing pad, toward Krusher. Flare emerged from her temporary leader's hull and stopped dead in her tracks, Turbulance almost walking into her.
''Hey-!'' He started then halted his protest when he saw why she'd stopped.
''Flare.'' Crash said, grinning broadly. ''It's good to see you again. We were worried when you disappeared through that tear.''
''I hope you're alright, little one.'' Burnout rumbled.
''I'm fine. I consider it a blessing of sorts that Krusher's crew was in the area. A twisted blessing, but one none-the-less.'' She added in a mutter. ''Just got one last task to do before I can head back to base.'' She said somewhat meekly when Krusher made a low rumbling noise.
Crash and Burnout cast a look at the Chinook styled Cybertronian craft.
''Ah, Krusher.'' Crash said, patting the deep green and black hull.
''Crash.'' Krusher rumbled in acknowledgement.
''It's good to see you back in one piece, too. My condolences on your losses.''
''It's good to see you too, but I have no time to stand around chat. I must get the Space Bridge back to base and fully operational as soon as possible. Isn't that correct Turbulance?''
Turbulance looked around innocently, emerging from the shadows that the larger Decepticon cast.
''Last I heard, you were dead. Taken offline by the Autobot Speeder.'' Crash said as Turbulance stepped up beside Flare.
''A minor transmission error, I assure you. I'm in one piece and fully functioning as you can see.'' He replied, flexing his wings and arms with a small, marginally cruel smile. ''I'm also looking to join a new unit.''

''Are you indeed?'' Burnout said, drawing himself up to his full height.
Crash looked up at him over his shoulder questioningly. Then he looked back at Turbulance.
''I can always make room for one more on my team.'' Crash said with a small, but polite smile.
Roadtrain made an odd noise that was just barely audible over his music.
''Jetstream say's it's all clear.'' He said. ''Permission to head back to base, sir?''
''Permission granted. Let me know when you get there.'' Krusher replied.
They watched Roadtrain and his Constructicon escort rumble away at a steady speed.
''Your chief of transport, I take it?'' Crash asked with a hint of amusement. ''I take he doesn't much care for your company.''
''He doesn't much care for anyone that can fly.'' Turbulance muttered.
''I get along okay with him.'' Flare piped up.
All optics focused on the young Decepticon very briefly. Flare seemed to shrink a few inches and went silent again.
''Are you requiring an escort?'' Crash asked. ''Burnout can add a little extra support to your air based escort, whilst I can help uh,'' He paused momentarily and searched his updated databanks. ''Roadtrain, Steele and Hookshot.''

''And why would I require additional help?'' Krusher asked a touch peevishly.
''Surely you've heard that Optimus Prime's forces have taken back over seven leagues of land? From what we know, your base is now right on the cusp of Decepticon - Autobot territory. An escort of two with such a precious cargo would be tempting an enemy ambush.'' Burnout said pointedly.
Krusher muttered something unintelligable.
''Very well. I accept. But this is my run and my crew, so the orders I give are to be obeyed. Understand?'' He rumbled.
''Completely.'' Crash said with a semi mock bow. ''Burnout, help our dear friends would you? I have to catch up to Roadtrain and his meager escort.''
''As you order, sir.'' Burnout replied and crouched as his armoured plating shifted around his body, contorting himself into his alt mode, a form much akin to Krusher's own. ''Ready for further orders, sir.'' He addressed Krusher.
Crash smiled and turned on an alloyed heel, taking a running jump into his own alt mode. His engine roared and he tore after the trine that had just left, heavily laden.
''Turbulance, Flare.'' Krusher ordered as he sealed himself up. ''Transform and move out! We must arrive before sun-up.''
As ordered, the two mechs lept neatly upwards and transformed at the top of their jumps, engines flaring with yellow and black flames. Krusher carefully took off after them, Burnout following behind, bringing up the formation's rear.

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