By: Silver
Spider
The transformer sat alone in his quarters. It was far over 0300 hours, but he didn’t care. The lack of recharge time couldn’t possible hurt as much as the soul wrenching pain in his spark. Sirens could be heard in the street below his window. There was a shout, the sound of a gun firing, and then a scream, but he no longer heard it. The unjustness of the outside world no longer concerned him.
His bed was unmade, as he sat down with a heavy sight, head buried in his hands. The male was completely unaware of anything around him and focused on nothing but his loneliness and guilt. All around him, papers and flex pads lay in piles, scattered all over the floor as well as his bed. They were military orders, strategies, lists of options, and history texts.
His laptop terminal lay half open on its side at his feet. He hadn’t recharged it in a long time, so the screen flickered on and off. Eventually it refused to work all together, and any light that the terminal emitted vanished as the screen went dark. Next to the terminal lay six empty bottles of dirty mech fluid mixed with radium. He was not one to consume a lot of alcohol, but at the moment anything that could lessen the pain seemed like a good idea.
How could you?! a voice inside screamed at him. How could you do this?! You call yourself an honorable warrior, but look what you’ve done to the innocent!
I had no choice! another voice replied. I had my orders. I could not disobey!
So your slaging allegiance is more important to you? Fine! Then by all means, why are you sitting here feeling guilty? You know what you did was wrong!
I am sorry…
Sorry? Who are you apologizing to? She’s dead. She’s at peace in a place where you can no longer reach her, no longer harm her. At least her torment is over.
I never meant to harm her! I would have died for her!
“ ‘I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but weather there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.’ “
~~ Éowyn of Rohan, The Return of the King
* * * * * * * * * *
Prehistoric Earth,
Mornings on prehistoric earth were quiet a sight to behold. The air was fresh and crisp, drops of dew could be seen on the leaves, and everything buzzed with the sound of nature. For Blackarachnia, it felt like the first day of her life, and in a way, it was. The day before was full of events. She had died as a Predacon and was then reborn as a Maximal. Life felt kinder to her. After all, everyone, with the exception of Depth Charge, welcomed her back with open arms. Optimus, Cheetor, Rhinox, and even Rattrap seemed genuinely glad to have her back with them. Dinobot seemed more acceptant. As for Silverbolt…
She turned to her right and looked at the other side of their bed. He was gone. Blackarachnia frowned but then remembered.
“Morning patrol,” she tapped her forehead and rolled over to look at the chronometer. It was 0530 by military time, so whoever had the night shift would be relieved of it in about half a megacycle. For the sole reason of having something to do, she decided to go down to command and keep whoever-it-was company.
Blackarachnia stretched and got up. Walking over to the bathroom, she looked in the mirror. Without her helmet, her ocean blue hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back far past her shoulder blades. Her optics burnt a crimson flame. Blackarachnia smiled at her reflection. It was so rare that she ever removed her helmet that only Silverbolt had ever seen her without it. As she studied her reflection, Blackarachnia noticed a thin scar on her right cheek, about three or four centimeters below her optic. She lightly traced it with her finger and frowned. Where did that come from? She couldn’t remember any injury that could have caused a scar like that.
Suddenly everything went black before her optics, and there was a flash of bright light. She saw a glowing knife heading for her face at lightening speed, and then the face of a bot who looked frighteningly familiar. Blackarachnia jerked back from the mirror with a start, her fluid pump racing. What in the name of Primus was that? She thought harder, struggling to remember something else, but once the flash ended, it was gone like a bad dream.
Though still a bit concerned, Blackarachnia shrugged it off. If it was important, it would come back to her later. The scar didn’t ruin her complexion too badly. Placing her helmet back on and tucking her hair under it, Blackarachnia dressed and headed for command.
* * * * * * * * * *
For most bots, staying concentrated on the monitors all night was impossible. Rattrap always dozed off within the first megacycle. Cheetor tended to leave and run around the base. Blackarachnia herself had never been trusted enough for the post. Perhaps the only one who took the job totally seriously was Dinobot. Therefore, Blackarachnia was not surprised to find him staring at the many screens, arms crossed over his torso plate.
“Quiet night?” Dinobot glanced up as she sat down in a chair to his right.
“For some of us more than others,” he replied, and she smiled knowingly. “How are you?”
“Why Dinobot, I didn’t know you cared,” Blackarachnia grinned, but he gave her a scowling look and she dropped the sarcastic _expression. “I’m better. I didn’t think I could live through yesterday, but I did. Now I feel much better.”
The old warrior nodded. “How does it feel to be a Maximal?”
“Considering I am once again the only Predacon within the Maximal ranks, I am well enough.”
Blackarachnia sighed. She thought something had been bothering him, and she somehow felt responsible. “Dinobot, you are more Maximal than I’ll ever be,” she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t sell yourself short. You don’t need any screwed up programming to tell who you are. You’re stronger than that. Stronger than I am.”
There was an accord silence between them, then Blackarachnia got up. “Well I’ll see you later. I have morning patrol today.”
“Of course,” he nodded thoughtfully, then something registered. “Wait! Silverbolt has morning patrol.” He crossed his arms over his torso plate and glared at her.
“Yes…”
“Ah-uh,” Dinobot rolled his eyes. “Well what are you waiting for? Go, before I change my mind and report this to Optimus.”
With another grin and a: “Thanks, Dinobot,” she headed out of the base.
Dinobot watched her go and turned his attention back to the monitors, shaking his head in mild exasperation. Those two were liable to get each other killed one of these days despite the best of intentions, he new that perfectly well. That was why he could never allow himself to form any emotional bonds, not with the Maximals as friends, nor with any females as lovers. He could never care.
He sat in silence for a nanoclick, absorbed in his own thoughts, then got up. It was 0600 hours; his shift was over. Now his job was to wake up Cheetor and inform him that the security post was his for the next six megacycles.
No, I can not
make any attachments, he thought as he
passed through the cold metal, barren walls of the Ark. That way I can not be
hurt…ever again.
Chapter 2
A large black raven flying over the landscapes of prehistoric earth discovered a mostly serene and peaceful view. As it flew over the land which would later become western Oregon, the bird noticed a strange oddly shaped structure perturbing out of the snow-capped mountain. Its curiosity took over, and the raven dove in for a closer look. As if on cue, the mountain rumbled, and it flew off, fearing for its life. Further in land, the raven flew over a small rock formation. It settled down on a branch of an old, dying tree next to the hill. There was no way the bird could have known who dwelled within those seemingly harmless rocks. By the time the raven realized its mistake, it was far to o late to flee. There was an explosion and all that was left was a burnt corps surrounded by a pile of singed feathers on the ground.
“Infernal pest,” the violet colored Predacon hissed as he stepped away from the fire controls and began to walk back inside his lair. Usually shooting the wild life for target practice soothed his fury at least a little, but nothing seemed to help his anger at the moment.
Inside his lab, Tarantulas picked up the data pad from the table, and in his fury, hurled it against the wall. The pad shattered, but it was no loss; the information had been useless. The Predacon sat down at his lab desk, and then angrily swiped his hand across the table knocking everything to the ground. Test tubes shattered, flex pads fell, and the electronic equipment began to give of sparks from the disturbance. Why was this bothering him so much? Blackarachnia’s protoform had been reprogrammed into a Predacon over two and a half stellar cycles ago, at the beginning of the Beast Wars. He had noticed the strange anomaly then but had no time to examine it closer, and it hadn’t come up since then. So why had he remembered about it now?
The answer was obvious. While Blackarachnia had defected to the Maximals about half a stellar cycle ago, the shell program he had implanted insured that her programming had remained that of a Predacon. But no longer. She was now a Maximal in every way, and that meant she was truly out of his reach.
The fascination was purely scientific, of course. Nothing more than creator to creation interests. She had been the most impressive and complex specimen he had ever studied. True, she was beautiful, but if there was ever any attraction it was only physical. That was not what interested him. Blackarachnia’s protoform was different from the others. There was something there, something he could not yet see.
Once he’d worked through his anger and frustration, Tarantulas began to think more clearly. He didn’t have Blackarachnia, but maybe he could to the next best thing. He got up and left the lab to go to a different chamber in his lair. The room was large nut mostly barren. It contained five empty stasis pods. Three were simply here for comparison purposes, since they had never been used. Of the remaining two, one belonged to Inferno and one to Blackarachnia. He swiftly headed for the correct pod and examined it. There was nothing of interest inside, but when he flipped it over, Tarantulas discovered that there was another containment unit on the back. It was much smaller than the one which was supposed to hold the protoform, only about half a cubic meter in volume. Inside he found a black leather backpack. The Predacon reached in and discovered three heavy books with thick spines and old, beat-up leather covers. He placed then on the table and searched the bag again. His claw closed around something soft, and when he pulled it out, his surprise increased even more.
“I don’t care who she was on Cybertron,” Tarantulas muttered to himself, as his optics fixed on the brown stuffed animal. “There is no way in the Pit that this thing belongs to her.”
He put down the bear and instead picked up one of the books. “The Two Towers,” he read the title and raised an eyebrow. The books were certainly a good read: power, corruption, torture, blood, death, and the occasional psychotic dark lord, but he would have never placed Blackarachnia as someone who would have read The Lord of the Rings. He flipped through the book then took a glance at the inside of the cover.
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “they are not hers after all.”
Inside the cover there was a gold plate with the words ‘Property of Anárion’ carved into it.
“Ah, the hero lives,” Tarantulas mused. He remembered Anárion very well. The bastard had been a thorn in his side for over three stellar cycles back on Cybertron. So the books belonged to him. That explained a great deal. It meant that Blackarachnia wasn’t just any protoform. No, she was so much more than that. He chuckled at the thought; she had no idea. More importantly, she didn’t know who he was, otherwise Tarantulas was possetive she would have never let him live this long. With another insane laugh, he rubbed his hands together. The bitch had no idea what was coming.
He put The Two Towers on top of the other two books that still lay on the table next to the stuffed animal and returned to the laboratory. There was another piece of the puzzle that had slipped his mind. Another piece involved in this game of chess, but this one was no pawn. He was the one who set the wheel in motion over four stellar cycles ago. Tarantulas himself rarely interacted with him, and therefore had nearly forgotten about his very existence. It had all started with this person, and now it looked like the wheel had turned full circle. Fate, it seemed, lead back to him.
By this time, Tarantulas’ furious mood had slipped away completely. What could be better than this? Blackarachnia was in for the shock of her life, and he had a front row seat for the events of the century. With a grin, he put away the equipment and the items from the stasis pod and headed out of his lair. He had to tell Blackarachnia what he found out, otherwise she would never know, and where would the fun be in that?
Oh yes, this was going to be
interesting. Very interesting indeed.
Chapter 3
Tarantulas would have terminated himself rather than admit it, but there was something about this meeting that frightened him. He was more than a little unnerved before extending the invitation, and now, standing at the edge of the large formation which was part of the chain that would later be known as the Rocky Mountains, he felt that same nervousness again. It was not surprising, considering that the Predacon knew this bot well enough to recognize the danger of confronting him especially on the subject of Isis Khmer. Nevertheless, Tarantulas was possessive that his own life was in no danger…almost possessive.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” he said as he took a step into the shadows of the rocks. “I’m sure that you will find our meeting quiet… informative.”
“Give me a single reason not to slit your throat right here, right now,” threatened a dark figure. It was entirely concealed by darkness, but Tarantulas was sure that the bot was armed, even if the only thing visible was a pair of scarlet optics.
“Alright,” the scientist didn’t sound at all intimidated. “I’m sure you remember the name Isis Khmer, do you not?” There was a gasp, and the Predacon smiled to himself. “Am I to assume that touched a nerve?”
“You psychopathic monster,” the voice hissed.
“Not untrue,” Tarantulas shrugged and leaned against the rock wall, casually examining his claws as if he found them very fascinating.
“You murdered her!”
“No, you did, actually,” the spider corrected, “but what if I told you, she is alive?”
“Impossible,” it retorted in a low growl.
“Oh I assure you, it’s very possible, and she is very much alive,” Tarantulas nodded. “I wonder what would happen if she found out what you did to her.”
“She is dead! Once someone enters your web, they do not leave. Ever.”
“She had… help.”
The shadowed figure seemed to consider that. “The pilot?”
“You should have stuck around a bit longer,” the Predacon observed. “If you had, you would have certainly heard what happened. After all, it was on every headline for months. Mystery of the Missing POWs Solved, Tripredicus Council Denies Any Knowledge of the Atrocities Committed Against the Maximal Prisoners of War, or my personal favorite, Young Woman Escapes Brutal Torture and Proves to be the Key in the War. Not only did she survive, but that bitch managed to reveal my entire organization in the process!” He lost his calm for a nanoclick and cursed under his breath, but then quickly regained his cool, casual composition. He couldn’t let his acquaintance catch him off balance, or everything would fall apart.
“So,” the bot said thoughtfully, more to himself than to Tarantulas. “She is alive.”
“Very much so,” Tarantulas nodded. “Now I wonder what would happen if I informed her of your part in all of this? I’m sure she’ll be very interested to find out what you did, but then you’re probably wondering how I would do that. After all, we’re stuck here on this Primus forsaken planet, and she’s probably back on Cybertron, enjoying her fame.”
The figure said nothing. “Oh well,” the scientist shrugged. “I’m sure fate will take its coarse. She’ll get whatever she deserves in the end; we all do.” He turned and began to walk away. “Including you, my friend. Including you.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Patrol was usually left to those who could cover great distances as quickly as possible. For Optimus and Silverbolt, the advantage was flight. For Cheetor, it was overland speed. Dinobot was also sent out on patrols, but usually they were patrols of the nearby areas or a pretty specific location. He wasn’t as fast as Cheetor, but he was fast enough and his combat skills were uncontested.
Unlike them, Blackarachnia had no such great advantages at her disposal. True, she was a skilled warrior, but her greatest weapon was her mind. She stood in the clear space of a field located at the edge of a small forest. Millions of years later, it would become the great Yosemite National Park, but for the present time, it was only a dozen or so square miles in area. Shutting off her optics, Blackarachnia took a deep breath, inhaling the cool clean air. She cleared her mind and reached out with her spark, searching for Silverbolt. It didn’t take her long to locate him over a hundred miles west of where she was. Blackarachnia smiled.
Hey there, Bowser, she called to him with her mind. Beautiful morning, no?
There was silence for a moment, and she giggled. Silverbolt must have been thoroughly confused. Beloved? Where are you?
Less than a megacycle by flight east of you, she replied. I would come to you, but it would take a while.
Oh, Silverbolt was still puzzled, but he was starting to understand. Then I shall be with you shortly. Patrol has been quiet this morning. I was planning on returning to base soon in any case. I shall be with you very soon, my love.
Okay, see you then, she cut the mental connection, and dropped on the grass, covering her optics with her right hand to shield them from the bright rays of the sun. Finally feeling comfortable, Blackarachnia sighed with content. Nothing can go wrong today, she thought, and a smile spread across her lips.
“Aww, what a touching scene,” came a cocky voice behind her. The female immediately sprang to her feet and fell into a fighting stances. Her muscles tensed when she saw Tarantulas standing a few meters away from her. Even though, Blackarachnia knew very well that she could take him on in hand to hand combat, a part of her was still terrified. There were too many bad memories, too much pain and unhealed wounds, and she had no desire to live through the same ordeal a second time around.
“So this is what Maximals do on their days off,” Tarantulas moved slowly, lazily, like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Blackarachnia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose in agitation. “What do you want? I was really having a good day, and then you had to come in and ruin it. So the sooner I kick your tail pipe back to the hole you crawled out of, the sooner I can get back to it.”
“My, my, aren’t we in a bad mood this morning,” Tarantulas shook his head in mock disappointment. “You should really work on that aggression, Blackarachnia. It never got anyone anywhere.”
“What in the pit do you want?!” she was extremely annoyed.
“As hard this
may be for you to believe, I’m not here to trade petty insults with you,
bitch. I’m here, because I’ve discovered something that concerns you very
closely.”
Chapter 4
Blackarachnia narrowed her optics. “Why do I doubt that?”
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” Tarantulas smirked. “You think you know so much when in reality, you don’t know anything. You don’t even know who you are.”
“I am a Maximal,” she raised her head in a sign of pride.
“Oh I know,” the scientist responded. “You’re a Maximal alright; there’s no denying that. I didn’t say that you don’t know what you are. I said you don’t who you are. There’s a big difference.”
“Do tell,” Blackarachnia crossed her arms under her chest and scowled at him.
“I meant that you have no idea who you were before stepping out of that stasis pod on Megatron’s ship as a Predacon,” a flash of annoyance crossed her features, and Tarantulas smirked. “What? You thought you very born yesterday?”
Yes, she wanted to say, more like reborn, as my true self. But she held her tongue and remained silent.
“You do realize that you had a life before all of this,” Tarantulas waved a hand indicating their surroundings, “before the Beast Wars. But you have no clue who you were on Cybertron, do you?”
She had to admit, he had brought up an interesting topic, but she’d never thought about it herself. Blackarachnia tore her gaze away from him and fell into thought. There had to be more to this, she looked up at the Predacon again. Tarantulas didn’t do idle chatter or pleasant conversations. She’d just have to keep this going until he revealed what this was really about.
“So?” she casually brushed it off, as if she didn’t care at all. “You don’t know who I was on Cybertron either. To you, I was just another experiment, another lab rat. You didn’t have any personal stake in it.”
“Not at first, no,” he admitted. “At first, all I was doing was creating a new soldier for the Predacon army. It was only after I discovered that the protoform was female, that I became interested.”
“You would!” Blackarachnia shouted in disgust, loosing her calm composure. “You’re a sick bastard, Tarantulas, you know that?”
“Say what you will, I’ve been called worse before,” he shrugged. “In any case, I was curious, but unfortunately I didn’t have time to look into your memory banks. The shell program was inserted, and they were overridden. I did, however, check your stasis pod. The information was very interesting.”
Blackarachnia didn’t respond. She felt extremely violated. Tarantulas seemed to know who she was on Cybertron, almost as if he’d known her back then. She prayed she hadn’t run into that monster twice in her life.
“No comment, I see,” the Predacon turned his head to the side. “Fine, I won’t tell you anything, just give you a name: Isis Khmer.”
With that, he turned and, with a few swift steps, disappeared into the woods. On a normal occasion, Blackarachnia would have followed him and they would have traded a few punches, or, at the very least, a few insults. This time, she didn’t bother, because there really wasn’t any point. She wasn’t hurt, and Silverbolt would come soon, so she didn’t want to worry him for no reason. Since the events of the earlier day, he was a bit more protective than usual. Blackarachnia couldn’t say she blamed him; her near-death experienced had scared them both, and she knew how much Silverbolt was afraid of loosing her.
“You called for me, my love?” as if on cue, a shadow of broad wings and talons passed over her, and Silverbolt touched down on the ground. His eagle claws dug into the soil, and within the nanoclick he transformed into robot mode.
Blackarachnia looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
The silver transformer raised an eyebrow. “I felt you calling out to me, though I am not sure as to how I knew it.”
“I did call for you,” she nodded, though her optics weren’t focussed on him and her face wore a thoughtful look, “if only with my heart.” Blinking twice she finally looked up at him and smiled. “I’ll explain later, Rover. Don’t worry about it.”
“I also felt a strong sense of despair and…fear?” Silverbolt’s concerned golden gaze searched her crimson optics. “Beloved, are you alright?”
“I’m much better now,” She smiled seductively and wound both arms around his neck. “So what do you say we take the long way back home?
* * * * * * * * * *
It was past 0200 hours, but Blackarachnia still couldn’t find sleep. She stayed awake simply staring at the ceiling, her crimson optics aimlessly counting the imperfections in the finish. She shifted her attention to Silverbolt who was lying next to her, but he had been asleep for hours, a serene smile on his face. She had to smile; at least one of them was having a good night. Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead so as not to wake him, she headed out to command.
What’s wrong with me? she thought, walking through the corridors. I guess I should know. As much I hate to say it, but that piece of slag was right: I really don’t know who I was on Cybertron. But why would this come up now of all times? I mean, look at Silverbolt; he doesn’t know about his past either, and it never bothered him. But then, she chuckled to herself, Silverbolt is usually calm and collective about everything. What about Tigertron and Airazor? Have they ever thought about any this? Blackarachnia released a heavy sigh; she felt very alone. Despite what she thought of Airazor, she missed having another female around to talk to.
The thought struck her, and she stopped, her mind running over it for a second time. How could she miss someone she never really knew? Moreover, how could she even miss the company of anther female, when all her life she’d been surrounded by males? Still, Blackarachnia got the distinct feeling of loneliness. Perhaps it was the longing for someone she knew a long time ago, a close friend maybe. There must have been someone like that in her past, because, as Tarantulas had pointed out, she did have a life before the Beast Wars.
Suddenly a wave of throbbing pain crashed down on her. It was as if her mind began to pulsate. She winced, clutching at her temples as the pain spread through her head. Then, like in the morning, her vision blurred, and everything became dark. She head a soft voice and when she looked up, Blackarachnia saw the face of a young woman, probably her own age or perhaps even younger. The female had turquoise optics and wore a broad smile on her face.
“The commander wants to see you in his office,” the woman winked at her. “Something about hacking into the Citadel’s mainframe.”
She seemed sweet and kind, but Blackarachnia had no idea who she was. She opened her mouth to ask, but instead was surprised to hear herself laughing and said something else entirely. “Doesn’t he know by now that all these lectures have no effect on me?”
The woman nodded with another smile. “I guess he should, but I think he enjoys lecturing you, especially knowing how much you hate them.”
“Oh poor innocent Dila,” Blackarachnia hear herself sigh as if the woman missed something very obvious. “I grew up in the military; lectures are my native language.”
The other female, apparently called Dila, laughed and rolled her eyes. “Then I suggest you go and get it over with.”
Blackarachnia
blinked, and the flashback was gone. She found herself once again standing in
the corridors of the base. The cold metal walls surrounded her like a block of
ice, chilling down to the very core of her spark. She shuttered but continued to
walk towards command.
Chapter 5
By the time Blackarachnia reached command, she was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Optimus and Rhinox. Both looked up as soon as she entered.
“Can we help you?” Primal’s tone was harsh.
“What?” she looked up. “Oh it’s just you two. Sorry, I didn’t realize there was anyone here.”
“Obviously,” said Rhinox. “What brings you to command so late at night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she sat down in a chair on the other side of the main council. “Mind if I hang out here for a while?”
“Not at all,” Optimus told her. “In fact, you could probably help us.”
“Wow,” the female chuckled humorlessly. “First time for everything. Okay, boys, what’ve you got?”
For the next megacycle, Blackarachnia worked with them on various projects, including defenses, up grades, and weaponry. Engrossed in the tasks, she nearly forgot why she was down in command in the first place. When the earlier events floated back into her thoughts, she became very quiet and lost focus on her work. Optimus and Rhinox exchanged curious glances.
“What’s wrong?” asked the Maximal leader.
“Nothing,” she lied. “I was just thinking,” she chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Optimus, have you ever heard of anyone named Isis Khmer?”
His green optics widened for a nanoclick. “Why do you ask?”
“I…I had a weird run in with Tarantulas earlier,” she confessed, “and he mentioned that name. Do you know who it is?”
“I’ve never heard it,” Rhinox shook his head.
“I have,” Optimus replied dryly. Blackarachnia and Rhinox looked up at him, and the large transformer turned to the scientist. “Rhinox, would you please excuse us for a little while?”
The green and brown transformer nodded and left. Optimus waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Blackarachnia. “Alright, now tell me exactly what happened.”
“Tarantulas said something about me not knowing who I was on Cybertron,” she began to pace. “He’s right, of coarse, but then he mentioned that name, and didn’t say anything else, just left.”
“Humm, that’s not like him,” the Maximal leader reasoned. “I always thought he wanted you dead, considering your history with him.”
“I’m sure he does,” she agreed, “but I know Tarantulas; he loves to play mind games before he goes in for the kill. That’s why I wanted to know if there was any truth to what he was saying.”
“I don’t know exactly what he told you, but Isis Khmer was a real person.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Dinobot put down his sword and took a deep breath, releasing it very slowly to stabilize the rate of his fluid pump.
“End simulation,” he growled, still a bit winded from the workout.
“Acknowledged,” sounded the emotionless voice of the computer. The sandy colored bamboo mat disappeared from beneath his feet, and the warrior found himself once again inside the large barren dome-shaped room. He picked up the abandoned sword and placed it back on the shelf with the other weapons.
“Enough destruction for one night,” he said to himself, heading back to command from his daily training in the VR simulator. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his sore muscles, all the while amused by the fact that he usually got a better workout from his exercises in the VR simulator then on the battle field, fighting the Predacons.
The door to command slid open with a hiss, and Dinobot was about to step inside when he noticed Blackarachnia who was talking to the Maximal leader. They seemed so focused on the conversation that neither noticed the open door, or even his presence. The former Predacon decided to wait and stepped back into the shadows.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Why ‘was?’” Blackarachnia asked.
“I can’t be sure,” Optimus admitted. “Isis was assigned to the Axalon based on her extraordinary combat skills. Her mission was to keep Protoform X in check. I assume she’s dead, because you and Airazor were the only females to survive. The remaining protoforms went off line a long time ago.”
“Tarantulas seemed to think I was Isis Khmer,” she commented.
“I don’t see how that’s possible. Isis was the only protoform who was allowed to keep all of her memories. If you were she, you would have known it. Unless…” he frowned and looked at her.
“Unless what?” she pressed.
“Well,” Optimus hesitated. “If you were really Isis Khmer, the shell program and whatever else Tarantulas did to you, would have most likely interfered with the memories. It’s a long shot, but it might explain why he mentioned that name. I think it’s safe to assume that Tarantulas knows something we don’t.”
“I could be wrong,” Blackarachnia said carefully. “He made it sound like he knew me before. You know, back on Cybertron. Is that possible? This woman… Isis Khmer, did she ever cross paths with him?”
“She may have,” Optimus told her. “Isis dealt with a lot of scum in her days. If I knew who Tarantulas was on Cybertron, I could say one way or the other. Look, I really don’t know what to tell you. Your memory banks were probably damaged beyond repair when he installed the shell program.”
“But if Isis was so important, wouldn’t there be a backup copy or something?” the female persisted. “I know that in the days of the Great War, the Autobots and Deceptacons had something called memory cubes. They saved the memories and personalities of warriors that were badly damaged until they could be repaired. Don’t we have something like that? This is very important, Optimus. I have to know.”
“There is a backup,” he confirmed, “but it’s incomplete.”
“Define ‘incomplete.’”
“It has ten stellar cycles worth of memories,” he explained. “From the time she was fifteen stellar cycles of age, when she started her military training.”
“Any you just assumed it wasn’t necessary for her to recall her childhood?” Blackarachnia was angry, though she wasn’t sure why.
“It’s not like that, but you have to understand that we didn’t expect complications like this. Some even thought that the backup copy was too much. But in case complications arouse, which they did, the most important thing was for her to be able to recall her training. No one expected this unfortunate turn of events, Blackarachnia. None of us meant for this to happen.”
Blackarachnia sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose in mild frustration. “It’s not your fault, Primal, but I still don’t see how any of this is helpful. Is there any way to tell if I am Isis Khmer?”
“Actually that’s a lot simpler than you might think,” Optimus smiled. “Do you know the I.D. number of your stasis pod?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it was 1311-2394.”
“I have a list of all the stasis pods that were on board the Axalon and who was in which pod. If you give me a megacycle, I can tell you exactly which pod Isis Khmer was assigned to.”
“And if the numbers match…” she began.
“If they match, it’s safe to say that the Maximal military can welcome back one of their best female warriors of all time,” Optimus finished for her. “Now I suggest you get some sleep. I’ll tell you what I find out in the morning.”
Blackarachnia nodded and turned leave. “One more thing,” she remembered and faced Optimus again. “Where is this backup copy?”
“Oh,” Optimus looked uncomfortable. “That’s a piece of bad news.”
“Where is it?” she insisted on knowing.
“It’s in a secret compartment of your stasis pod. Which means…”
“…Tarantulas has it,” she realized in horror.
* * * * * * * * * *
The raptor’s
gaze followed Blackarachnia as she left command and headed back to her quarters.
He stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed over his torso plate. If anyone
could see the look in his optics, they would have been terrified.
Chapter 6
After Blackarachnia left command, Optimus sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. He wasn’t ready to deal with this, not now. There was too much to do for him to worry about Isis Khmer, and the possibility that she might indeed be Blackarachnia. Optimus knew her life history very well, but he’d only met Isis Khmer once before she boarded the Axalon. Still the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
First of all, there was a stunning physical similarity between Isis Khmer and Blackarachnia. Both were about the same age, with a blue paint job, and unmistakable crimson optics. While it was true that a transformer could change his or her appearance almost as easily as humans changed cloths, the resemblance was still remarkable. Then there was her attitude. Optimus had noticed it about Isis Khmer the first time Prowl had pointed her out. The girl was willful, fearless, and a bit outspoken. All three qualities were good descriptions of Blackarachnia. Lastly there was the matter of her combat skills. There were few females in the Maximal army, and while it was a given that they were good fighters, Isis was the best among them. Blackarachnia’s skills were just as good, if not better.
Optimus took a deep breath and stood up. There was only one sure way to find out. He had to check the list of stasis pods and check if the ID number Blackarachnia provided matched with the number of Isis Khmer’s pod. As he searched the files, his mind ran over his earlier conversation with the female. As much as he regretted it, Optimus had to admit that he had made one mistake. He had lied to her.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Well?” Blackarachnia was becoming very impatient. She had no doubt that Optimus knew the truth, but for some reason he wasn’t saying anything.
“I need to speak with the others,” Optimus announced, apparently ignoring her question. “I’m calling a team meeting.”
“For what?” she demanded. “What does this have to do with anyone else?”
“Look,” Optimus turned to her, “the subject of Isis Khmer is very… complicated. I need to explain to everyone what’s going on. So the sooner you can help me get everyone to command, the sooner I can tell you what you want to know.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Since the first place she passed was the virtual reality battle simulator, Blackarachnia decided to check if anyone was there. Most of the time it was a safe bet that if anyone was using it, it would be Dinobot.
Stepping inside the metal dome, the first thing she noticed was that her vision was impaired by a thick fog. Part of the simulation, she noted thoughtfully. So someone is here.
“Dinobot,” she called into the fog. There was a sound of two pieces of metal hitting against one another, but aside from that there was no other response. She ventured deeper into the fog until finally it began to part. By the time it disappeared completely, the female realized that the room she was standing in had an ancient earth-like look to it. There was a window on each of the four walls, but all four had blinds over them that seemed to be made of some kind of light colored wood that had been cut into thin strips. The floor was also made out of wood, but it was different. It was softer, and seemed to consist of long, thin cylindrical tubes. Bamboo, she recalled. This type of wood is called bamboo. The room felt odd. There was just something not right about it. The more she thought about it, the stronger the pain in her mind became.
“Maintain focus,” a deep male voice commanded. “Concentrate.”
Blackarachnia shook off the strange flashback. “Concentrate,” she told herself and called into the depth of the simulation. “Dinobot, are you in here? Optimus called a team meeting. He wants to see all of us in the command center.”
For the second time there was no response, and Blackarachnia was becoming agitated. “Dinobot!” her voice was more urgent.
She was finally rewarded with an angry snarl. “What?!” the old warrior emerged from the doorway of the weapons locker, and frowned at her. His look softened as he recognized that she was clearly upset about something. “What is it?” he inquired in a softer tone.
“This place,” she waved her hand indicating their surroundings. “I...I’ve seen it before.”
“Yes, I am sure you have,” Dinobot raised an eyebrow in a quizzical look, failing to see what she was addressing. “It is a combat setting that I often use in my training exercises, so I would not be surprised if you came across it before. Why is it a problem now?”
Blackarachnia stopped to compose herself, and the strange feeling faded to the back of her mind. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I’ve just been feeling a little off lately. You know the whole becoming-a-Maximal thing and all,” then she remember why she was looking for him in the first place. “Oh yeah, the ape wants to see all of us in command for a team meeting.”
“Humm,” Dinobot released a deep growl. “Very well. Inform Primal that I shall join you shortly.”
Blackarachnia nodded and prepared to leave. “Just out of curiosity,” she asked, turning back to face him, “what setting is this?”
“This is a simulation of a Dojo,” he replied. “A battle room from an ancient human country called Japan.”
* * * * * * * * *
Seven of the Maximals had finally gathered in command. Optimus was pacing at the main council. Cheetor and Rattrap were talking in the corner, wondering what this was all about. Rhinox sat at his usual place, silently watching the rest. Blackarachniasat down in one of the chairs along the perimeter of the room, with Silverbolt standing behind her. Filling in a corner at the farthest end was Dinobot. He remained partially concealed by shadows, but his powerful senses surveyed everything that occurred in the area.
The Maximal leader stopped, and turned to face his audience. After clearing his throat, he finally had everyone’s attention.
“I feel I owe you all an apology,” Optimus began to speak. “I’m sure most of you have heard of a female named Isis Khmer. Whatever you’ve heard, I now ask you to forget it, because most of it isn’t true. The fact is that about three settler cycled ago, Isis Khmer was assigned to the Axalon mission. Since she was a soldier, a very good one, her assignment was to keep Protoform X in check.”
“Huh,” came a sarcastic voice from the doorway. Depth Charge, who had just arrived, scoffed angrily. He folded his arms over his torso plate and leaned on the doorframe. “And here I was thinking you were the only one who screwed this up, Primal. Apparently there was someone else who was a total failure. What a complete surprise,” his voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Blackarachnia looked away, and Optimus sighed, very frustrated with the aquatic Maximal. “Depth Charge, be quiet.”
“I’ll do you one better, Primal; I’ll leave,” he turned and walked out with an angry growl. “Never send a female to do a man’s job.”
The Maximal leader shook his head, but didn’t bother calling him back. “It’s just as well,” he turned to the others. “Isis was assigned to a stasis pod, but she was no ordinary protoform. Because of her task, she was allowed to keep all of her memories.”
He stopped speaking and let that sink in, walking across the room. Blackarachnia noticed that several of the other Maximals glanced in her direction. They were starting to see the connection. Silverbolt, who stood behind her, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“I assumed,” Optimus continued, “that she was terminated, because Airazor and Blackarachnia were the only females to survive. In addition, neither of them seemed to remember anything. What I hadn’t taken into account was that Tarantulas and the shell program caused interference.”
“So,” Rhinox reasoned out loud, and looked at Blackarachnia. “You’re Isis Khmer?”
The female
didn’t reply, but Optimus nodded. “Yes, she is.”
Without another word, Dinobot took the opportunity to silently depart from command. He was complete unmoved by what had taken place. His features did not betray any emotions at all. The rest of command went dead silent.
“Whoa,” Rattrap shook his head in disbelief. “The Isis Khmer. Here.”
“What happened to you?” Cheetor asked rather innocently. “You know, after…”
“She has no memory of anything that happened before the Beast Wars,” Primal quickly intervened.
“Actually,” Blackarachnia spoke up, “I sometimes have these visions. Flashes. I think they might be memories from Isis’ life.” She felt extremely uncomfortable in this room, surrounded by people who seemed to know more about her than she did about herself. She wanted to be back in her quarters to think over everything and maybe talk to Silverbolt about it. He would understand. He always did.
“They may well be,” Rhinox agreed. “From what I have studied about protoforms, they often have such memory glitches. I would need to run some tests but...”
“No,” the female rigorously shook her head, and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “No tests. No probes. The last thing I want to be again is someone’s science experiment. Please just... just leave me alone.” She stepped back, and finally out of command leaving everyone behind.
Once she was safely back in her quarters, she sat down on the edge of her bed with a heavy sigh. Blackarachnia hated looking so weak in front of everyone, but she had to get away. Everything was moving too fast for her. She only spent two days as a Maximal, and already things were changing again. It was too soon. She wasn’t ready for it again.
The doors opened slowly, and Silverbolt stepped inside. She looked up and wordlessly reached out for him. The male sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulder pulling her into a warm and comforting embrace. After a few minutes of sitting in silence, she sighed and sat up, straightening herself.
“I don’t feel that I am her,” Blackarachnia tried to compose her thoughts. “I don’t even feel that she’s a part of me. All there memories…these flashbacks. I can’t connect to them. It’s like they belong to a complete stranger.”
“But there must be a reason you’re seeing them now of all times,” Silverbolt reasoned. “Is there nothing you remember that you have some feeling for?”
“I remember that Isis…that I knew someone named Dila, another female in the army. I think they were friends, but I can’t remember anything beyond that.” She paused and thought for a moment, remembering the strange feeling of seeing Dinobot’s battle simulation. “There’s something else. Something more important, but I…” she sighed in frustration. “I can’t remember. All I know is it concerns someone who was very important to Isis.”
“A lover?” the Fuzor asked carefully.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Blackarachnia smiled. “Jealous?” she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “No, Rover, I’m sure I would have remembered that. But you’re right; I think it was a male. A family member or some sort of guardian, someone she looked up to. I think it was also someone she lost.”
“A male family member?” Silverbolt repeated, relieved. “A father, or maybe a sibling she was close to. A brother, perhaps? Although it could just as well be a very close friend.”
Blackarachnia’s optics widened with realization. “What did you say?”
“Huh?” Silverbolt raised an eyebrow. “It could just as well be...”
“...a close friend,” she waved her hand dismissingly. “Yeah, I got that part. What did you say before that?”
“I said it could be her...”
“Brother!” she finished, quickly standing up. “Of course! I’m remembering her brother. My brother!”
* * * * * * * * * *
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you there,” Optimus replied when she brought up the topic the next day.
“What do you mean, you can’t help,” Blackarachnia demanded. “You seem to know all this information about Is...about who I was.”
“I know your military profile,” he said. “I have no knowledge of your personal history. I can, however, tell you that Isis Khmer had no living relatives.”
“Then why am I remembering a brother? There must have been someone...”
“There was,” both turned at the sound of the deep voice behind them. Dinobot regarded both Maximals with a dark look, then focused his attention on the female. “His name was Taratron. He was not your blood brother, but you were family nonetheless. He raised you from a very young age.”
“How do you know this?” Optimus asked.
“I was there at his execution.”
Blackarachnia caught her breath as a shadow passed over her face. “He’s dead? My brother is dead.”
“Yes,” Dinobot confirmed. “A short time after the Axalon mission departed, he was captured and terminated. I am sorry.”
“N...no,” Blackarachnia shook her head. “It’s not your fault, but how did you know who he was?”
“It’s hard not to know. The two of you were quite infamous among the Predacons. Believe me, if Tarantulas had known who you were when they got a hold of your stasis pod, he would have simply terminated you. They would have returned to Cybertron as heros among the Predacons for killing Isis Khmer.”
“They wanted me dead that badly?” Blackarachnia raised an eyebrow. Dinobot nodded, and she groaned in frustration. “How is it that everyone knows more about my past than I do? You, Optimus,” she waved a hand in the direction of the Maximal leader, who, by that time had retreated to the command center, “the rest of the Maximals. Hell, even Cheetor knows more than I do! And, oh yeah, Tarantulas!”
Dinobot’s _expression changed to an alarm. “You spoke to Tarantulas!”
“Not really. We just exchanged a few pleasant insults, and he brought up this topic. That’s how this whole thing started. Speaking of which, do you have any idea how he knows about this? Did... did I ever run into him on Cybertron? Who was he back then, anyway?”
“As to the
question if you ever crossed paths, I honestly rather not contemplate on that,
but I can tell you that back on Cybertron, he went by the name Shifter.”
Blackarachnia braced at the wave of strong nausea that hit her. Her vision blurred and she stumbled forward. A rush of images flashed past her optics, and she cried out in pain. When the experience passed, she straightened herself. A new realization present in her mind. She knew who had caused the scar on her face.
“Optimus lied,” the female said in a clear voice, more to herself than to Dinobot. “That bastard!”
Her movement was smooth and fluid, but strong and sure as she pushed her way past the former Predacon, and headed twords command. Blackarachnia marched into the command center.
“You lied to me, Primal,” with that tone of voice she sounded a lot like Depth Charge with a serious chip on his shoulder. Optimus, who was a little struck at the accusation, faced her. “You said Isis never dealt with Tarantulas on Cybertron!”
“I said I didn’t know,” he calmly corrected her.
“You’re lying again,” Blackarachnia’s temper exploded. “You know something happened, that he did something to me. Tell me what it was. What did he do?”
The Maximal leader regarded her for a long moment. He could see the determination, the fire in her scarlet optic. The female raised her head as a sign that she would not back down or leave until she go her answer.
“Now I realize why Prowl suggested you for this mission,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re an admirable woman, Blackarachnia; you face whatever fate throws at you head-on. Unfortunately that also means that you loose your innocence earlier than many others.”
“Get to the point, ape,” her voice was venomous.
“The point,” Optimus replied, ignoring her insult, “is that people will do almost anything for knowledge, but with it comes a terrible price: the loss of innocence.”
The female chuckled humorlessly, rolling her shoulders back, hands on her hips. “In that case I have nothing to loose,” there was a mix of sorrow and regret in her voice. “I have no innocence left.”
“You have no idea what he did.”
“That’s why you’re going to tell me!”
Optimus realized he had no choice in the matter. She would find out sooner or later whether she remembered something or someone accidentally told her. She might as well hear it from him. “About three stellar cycles ago,” he began, “You became a prisoner of war. At that time, Tarantulas...”
“Shifter.”
“Right, Shifter. He was in charge of dealing with the POWs. Some were killed instantly, most suffered first. Isis Khmer...”
“No,” Blackarachnia interrupted, holding up her hand. “I appreciate the effort, but don’t try to soften the blow by pretending that it was someone else. There is no longer a distinction between Isis Khmer and Blackarachnia.”
“Alright,” Optimus nodded, once again amazed at her inner strength. “You were one of the unlucky ones.”
“What did he do?” she repeated, fists clenched at her sides.
“Torture and... rape,” Optimus forced the last word out of his mouth.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Going somewhere?” Blackarachnia whirled at the sound of the harsh voice behind her. Dinobot stood at the back entrance, arms crossed over his torso plate.
“Do you know what he did?” she asked bitterly even though she already knew the answer to her question.
“Yes, I do,” the old warrior confirmed with a nod of his head.
“Of course you do,” she scoffed. “Everyone knows.”
“Silverbolt doesn’t, not concisely at any rate,” he corrected himself.
“How can I face him?” Blackarachnia shook her head. “How can I face any of them ever again? They’ll only see me as a victim, and that’s the last thing I want to be.”
“I understand,” Dinobot nodded in reply. “But going after Tarantulas now will not help the situation. I know you; you’re very stubborn and once you get an idea into your head, it is very difficult to dissuade you. But you’re not thinking straight, Blackarachnia. Your judgment is clouded by anger, and that could very well cost you your life.”
“No big lose,” she muttered under her breath, but Dinobot caught it.
“Did you hear a word of what I just said, li...” he shouted, then caught himself and sighed. Reaching into a containment unit, he pulled out a hologram projector.
Once it was switched on, Blackarachnia saw the image. It was a little girl who looked no older than eight stellar cycles of age. Her face was lit by a wide smile, bright scarlet optics shining. Behind the girl, she noticed another transformer, who was bent on one knee with one hand on the girl’s shoulder. This bot appeared to be in his middle or even late twenties, with violet optics that were focused on the girl.
“He,” Dinobot pointed at the older transformer, “wouldn’t want you to do this.”
She blinked and looked up at the former Predacon. “This is my brother? Taratron?”
“Yes, and now guess who the little girl in this picture is? This is your innocence, Blackarachnia,” she still didn’t move her optics fixated on the holographic image. “At least wait till morning,” he pointed outside where the sun had nearly sat. “Nothing good ever came from the night, but dawn will come, and with it, it shall bring new hope. Until then, rest. You’ve had a difficult day.”
Finally snapping out of her trance, she nodded reluctantly, and then reached for the hologram projector. “How did you get this?” she took it from him, examining the image again.
“Your brother gave it to me before his execution,” Dinobot replied. “I suppose it belongs to you now.”
“Thank you,” the female switched it off and placed it in her back containment unit. “I just wish I could remember him.”
“He cared for
you very deeply. At least take comfort in that.”
Silverbolt immediately sensed that something was amiss when the door to his quarters slid open, and Blackarachnia stepped in. Despite his intuition, she appeared unharmed, but a certain inner light was gone from her optics. Concerned, he placed the flex pad he was reading back on the nightstand.
“Beloved?” he extended a hand to her in a sign of invitation. She sat down without a word, and Silverbolt, now convinced that something was seriously wrong, held her like one would hold a small child who was upset, stroking her hair. It was scattered around her shoulders, since she had dropped her helmet when she came in. Blackarachnia rested her head against his chest, silently listening to the steady, but fast, rythm of his fluid pump. Over a few sleepless nights, the sound had become a source of great comfort. “What is wrong?”
She sighed and looked up at him. “Do you see this?” she pointed at the thin scar below her optic. Silverbolt frowned, for he hadn’t noticed it before, and lightly traced it with his finger. Blackarachnia flinched and pulled away. “Funny how old wounds can still hurt,” she commented. “It’s really old, from before the Beast Wars.” Very slowly, she told him everything she remembered and what she learned from Optimus and Dinobot. Silverbolt listened without judgment, and when she finished, he held her body tighter to his.
“He’ll be dead before this war is over,” the white knight swore, his usually golden optics flashed blood-red with anger.
“I know,” the female nodded against him, “but to be honest, I really don’t care what happens to him. I have neither the strength nor the will to deal with him right now. As long as he never hurts anyone else again, I don’t care what becomes of him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that his fate is somehow my concern. He took too much from me as it is.”
After another hour of conversation, Blackarachnia was completely exhausted. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she would never let Tarantulas take anything else away from her. First thing in the morning, she was getting her past back.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ash nazg durbatulûk...
Blackarachnia shuttered at the cold, unwelcoming atmosphere of the cave. The depth of it seemed to absorb all light, as a black hole would in space. The entrance provided little comfort. Even though it allowed some rays to pass through, the sun was only slightly visible at 0600 hours.
Ash nazg gimbatul...
The disembodied voice didn’t help the situation at all. Tarantulas definitely knew she was there, and if he was trying to scare her, it was partially working.
“Quit it, you psychopathic sadist!” she shouted into the darkness.
Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!
After the last verse, Tarantulas emerged from the shadows. In his hands he carried the black backpack. “I assume you know who I really am now?”
She didn’t answer, and the Predacon took that as an affirmation. He looked down at the carrier in his hands, and threw it at her. Blackarachnia caught it with ease. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing in there that’ll explode or anything like that,” he assured her. “It does, however, hold some of your memory chips which I recovered from the stasis pod, among some other personal possessions.”
“How do I know they don’t have some virus you cooked up that will hack into my core conciseness?” she narrowed her optics.
“A clever idea,” Tarantulas raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to remember it, but no. They’re clean. However if you don’t trust me, and somehow I don’t think you do, check them for yourself. You’re a smart woman, Miss Khmer.” Interestingly enough, he echoed his own words from over three stellar cycles ago.
Still extremely weary of him, she took a few steps back the way she came. It couldn’t be this easy. “If the chips are really clean, what do you get out of all of this? Don’t tell me you’re doing this out of the goodness of your spark,” she asked sarcastically.
“If I did, I’d be lying,” the scientist shrugged.
“Nothing ever stopped you before,” she pointed out. “What’s different this time?”
“Because this time, believe it or not, I’m not the villain of the story.”
“Are you kidding?! After what you did?!”
“Nevertheless. Alright, I’ll admit I am the villain, but not the main one.”
“Whatever,” Blackarachnia was loosing her patience, “I don’t have time for these riddles.” She turned to leave.
“One last thing,” Tarantulas called after her. “Say hello to Taratron for me.”
“My brother is dead,” she replied bitterly over her shoulder.
“Really?” the other spider’s optics sparkled. “I am so sorry to hear that.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Back in her quarters, Blackarachnia emptied the containment of the backpack on her recharge bed. First, three thick books fell out with a thump. Blackarachnia raised an eyebrow and examined them.
Not something I would read before bed, she decided after flipping through the first one, whose cover read The Fellowship of the Ring in gold, script letters. Looks like ancient human literature, something Silverbolt might enjoy. Wait, why Silverbolt? It suddenly occurred to her that she had no basis on which to believe that the Fuzor would enjoy the books. None accept her own intuition. Opening the book once again, she noticed a gold plate in the inside of the front cover with the words ‘Property of Anárion’ carved into it. So the books aren’t mine, she decided, but then who’s Anárion? Another person from my past? In any case this is too complicated to deal with before I regain my memories.
Reaching into the backpack, she felt around until her hand closed around three cold chips. She pulled them out and placed them on the table next to her terminal. One last thing remained in the backpack. As she took the stuffed animal in her hands, millions of emotions flooded her mind. There was something about the teddy bear that sparked another memory.
Blackarachnia saw herself, three years younger, sitting on the edge of a bed and holding the same stuffed animal. Her optics looked sad, filled with unshed tears. “Taratron, brother, where are you?” she barely heard herself whisper, then saw as the younger version of herself hugged the stuffed animal tighter and buried her face in its fur. “The last remnant of my childhood. Dear Primus, where has my innocence gone?”
Still emotionally
raw, Blackarachnia sighed and put down the teddy bear, settling him on her
table. It was something her brother had given her when she was younger. Now he
was gone, and she would never know him again.
“Diagnostic check complete. Memory chips are unaltered in any way,” Blackarachnia looked up from the first book in the trilogy, which she had begun to read while her terminal preformed a diagnostic check on the chips. It claimed that they were not tampered with, but she was still not sure.
“Too easy,” she told herself. “If that piece of slag did anything to them, he’d make sure it was well under the radar of automated equipment. I’ll have to check them out personally.”
Manual diagnostic took another three mega cycles, after which Blackarachnia had to leave for duty in command. Even after personally checking out the chips, she was not entirely convinced that they were clean, and Blackarachnia was becoming very agitated and puzzled at the same time. She couldn’t find any modifications to the chips. Within the coarse of the solar cycle, she had checked for everything from simple overwrite codes to anything Tarantulas may have used to try to reestablish their mental link. But not only did her terminal claim that they were clean, but her own skills seemed to be supporting that claim.
Her greatest concern was that Tarantulas gave them to her willingly, supposedly no strings, or web threads, attached. Were it any other bot, she might have accepted them with gratitude, checked them out, and be halfway to uploading the information into her core. But it wasn’t any other bot; it was the same sadist who had tortured her on numerous occasions, who never did anything unless it benefited him in some way. The question was; if he didn’t seek to control her, what was his agenda?
Still frustrated, the female drummed her nails on the smooth surface of her desk. Finally she decided that the knowledge of her past was worth the risk. It wasn’t like she was going in completely blind. Within half a megacycle, Blackarachnia erected several internal firewalls as well as other precautions. If anything went amiss, her internal defenses would catch it before any damage was done. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the first chip and inserted it into her terminal, which was ready to upload it at her command.
“Computer,” she addressed the terminal, “upload data on my mark. Mark.”
Instantly data stream of bright light shoot out of the terminal screen and hit her optics. Once it was complete, the data stream disappeared and her optics went dark.
Nanocliks later, the twin black holes of her optics swelled with crimson light, as the memories flooded her mind. Within nanoclicks everything came back to her. The memories began with her first day at the M.T.A., which had turned out to be a disaster.
Flashback,
Isis sat outside of one of the training rooms in the M.T.A.. She shifted on the bench, feeling very nervous and uncomfortable. Twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she hung her head and stared at the floor. A large shadow blocked the light from the hallway lamps, but Isis still didn’t look up. She knew very well who it was.
“What happened?” Taratron didn’t sound angry, but then he rarely lost his temper. His was the silent anger.
“What makes you think anything happened?” she played the innocent, still keeping her optics focused on the floor.
“Let me think,” he said sarcastically. “I get a call in the middle of an important strategic discussion, and an angry instructor tells me to come down here to pick you up, because, apparently, you are incapable of going through your first solar cycle of training without fighting with your classmates. Now I ask you again; what happened?”
“He said I was a girl,” her voice was a whisper as she finally raised her gaze to her guardian, “that I didn’t belong here. So I hit him.”
“You hit him in the groin,” Taratron pointed out, “That makes a difference.”
Isis chewed on her bottom lip. Taratron sat down on the bench next to her. “You felt your honor insulted, as well as your place threatened and decided to defend both.”
“Something like that,” she shrugged. Isis never understood the military code that her brother refereed to.
“Well,” Taratron cleared his throat. “I am certainly proud of you for standing up for yourself, but do you think that next time you could try to react in a way that does not involve sending your classmate to a CR chamber?”
Isis sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I guess I did overreact,” she laid her head on her brother’s shoulder.
“People like that don’t matter,” Taratron whispered running a hand through her hair. “Believe me, little sister, when I say that he will not get far in anything, least of all the military. His own bias opinions and narrow mind will keep him from successes,” he stood and looked down at her. “Ready to go home?”
She also got up. “I’m suspended for five solar cycles.”
“I know,” Taratron sighed. “If nothing else, it’ll give us some quality time together. I feel like I’ve been ignoring you lately, little sister.”
“I thought you’d never notice,” they began to walk down the hallway. “You’re always away somewhere lately. Where do you go, anyway?”
“On business for the army,” he replied. “Top secret.”
“Ah-uh, sure,” she rolled her eyes. “And is this top secret business finished?”
“Not yet,” her brother admitted, “but I’m willing to put it on hold for the next five solar cycles.”
End of Flashback,
Blackarachnia pulled back, realizing that it would be her first memory of her brother. He was much like she’d imagined; stern, but very kind. Now more than ever, she wished he was still alive. Of coarse, it all was wishful thinking, so Blackarachnia returned to her previous task.
More memories followed; training at the M.T.A., meeting Dila, and later Celadon as well as Astroburn, for the first time. She remembered her first commanding officer, her first military assignment, the first Pred she fought.
The newer
memories were more vivid; the invitation to the M.I.U., meeting Commander Prowl,
the POW mission, Anárion, and finally the assignment to the Axalon.
Chapter 11
It was late after 1100 hours before Silverbolt returned from evening patrol. He headed straight for command and entered a brief report on the results of his scout patrol into the main computer. After greeting Rhinox, who had the night shift, he headed for the crew quarters. The night was long, and he was in need of recharge.
The Fuzor opened the door as quietly as possible and stepped inside. The room was bathed in soft moonlight and a hum emitted by the mechanical equipment that was left online made for a strange, but soothing tone. Silverbolt smiled when he saw his beloved’s sleeping form on the bed. The covers fell into a puddle at her feet, and there was a book still left open on the side of the bed next to her. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he pulled the covers up to her bare shoulders. She sighed and shifted in her sleep, trying to get comfortable again. Silverbolt smiled and closed the book, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. Finally he stood up, his golden optics surveying the rest of the room.
To his surprise, the room was not as ordered as it usually was. Blackarachnia preferred to keep her workspace organized and cleared of loses junk, he knew. Unlike many of the other Maximal quarters, all of her papers and data pads were either neatly stacked on the shelves or on the corner of the desk. This time the laptop terminal was left open and activated on the desk without recharge. Papers and data pads were scattered around the workspace, and some even resided on the chair and floor. Whatever Blackarachnia was working on was obviously very important, or she would have taken the time to clean the mess.
“Silverbolt?”
The male turned towards her with another smile. “It is late,” he sat down on the edge of the bed stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “I apologize for waking you, my lady.”
“It’s okay,” she yawned as he settled next to her, resting his head on the pillow. “I needed to talk to you anyway.”
“Yes?”
“Do you believe in fate? That some things are meant to happen, and they’ll happen no matter what?” she realized that it was the same question she was once asked by Shifter, though this time her answer would have been different.
“I am not certain as to what you are referring, my lady,” he admitted as his golden optics searched her crimson ones for what answer she expected, but found nothing there
The female chewed on her lower lip for a nanoclick. “Do you believe that we were meant to be together?”
“Yes, I do,” Silverbolt replied honestly without hesitation. “I have never doubted it. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve...” she didn’t know how to put her thoughts into words. “I remember my past. It’s not just random flashes anymore. I remember all of it. All of my adult life, anyway.”
“I see,” his tone was much drier than usual, and Blackarachnia frowned.
“I was hoping you’d be happy for me,” she said quietly.
“I am, but I am also... concerned,” he saw that she didn’t understand his worry. “Is there someone waiting for Isis Khmer back on Cybertron?”
For a moment there was complete silence, then the sound of Blackarachnia’s laughter filled the air. She sat up in bed, soothing back her loose hair and smiled down at her lover, who looked back at her in question.
“Bowser, you are one paranoid bot,” she scolded him with a gentle kiss. “I’m all yours: past, present, and future.”
Silverbolt
released a sigh of relief, but then his ears perked up. “Past?”
Blackarachnia nodded and rested her head back on the pillow facing him.
“That’s why I asked if you believed that we were meant to be together,”
she cupped his face in her hands. “We knew each other before the Beast Wars,
Silverbolt, on Cybertron.”
The Fuzor’s optics widened, and he blinked in confusion. “How can you be certain?”
“Because you’re the only bot alive who can say, ‘it is against my ethics to cross swords with a female,’ or ‘happy to oblige, my lady,’ with a strait face,” she laughed, but then Blackarachnia’s tone became more serious as she began to explain. “You were built with the name Anárion.”
“An interesting name,” Silverbolt commented.
“The first time I heard it, I thought it was very poetic. In any case, when you joined the Maximal Airforce, some of your teammates started calling you Silverbolt in honor of the Aerialbot leader from the Great War.”
“Commander Silverbolt of the Aerialbots? I was named after him?”
“Yes, but you abandoned it by the time we met, and went back to your original name. If you’re wondering how I know all this, the information comes from a mutual friend of ours, Astroburn.”
Flashback,
Astroburn grinned and clapped Anárion on the back. “ ‘Bolts! How’ve you been, man? I haven’t heard from you in ages. You just dropped of the face of Cybertron. What’s up?”
Anárion visibly tensed, and Isis raised an eyebrow. “‘Bolts,’” she asked, amused.
“What? Didn’t he tell you?” Astroburn looked at her.
“It is not a good subject,” Anárion interrupted.
“Sure it is,” the younger male wouldn’t give up. “The hero’s just modest, that’s all. See, back when we were in our flight training, this bot was the top of our class. I tell you, Isis, he’s the best. Even saved some of us from our own stupidity a few times. So everyone, including our instructors, named him after one of the heroes from the early years of the Great War: Commander Silverbolt of the Aerialbots.”
End of Flashback,
The silver Fuzor contemplated that, but then sadly shook his head. “I am sorry beloved, I remember none of this.”
“I understand, and it’s okay,” she cupped his face with her hands. “I’m just glad that you’re here. Having all these memories back just made me realize how much I’ve missed you. I know you’ve been here all this time, Silverbolt, but it’s as if I couldn’t see you.”
“I am here
now,” he turned his head slightly, just enough to press his lips against the
palm of her hand, “and I shall never leave you again.” They drew closer as
the kiss became more involved and full of passion. It was a long time before
either of them got any sleep.
Chapter 12
After saying goodbye to Silverbolt, who departed for morning patrol, Blackarachnia took her station at the parameter defenses. Her mind was still running over the recent events when she heard heavy footsteps approaching from the base.
“I had hoped that you would heed my warning, but you went despite what I said,” she averted her gaze from the parameter defenses. Blood red optics narrowed up at her from the ground.
“Relax,” she jumped down from the post, gracefully landing on her feet. “I was careful, and nothing happened. That scrap heap didn’t even make a move.”
“And you do not find that odd?” she shrugged, and the veloceraptor snarled. “Then you are a fool! Of all bots, you know first hand what he is capable of, thus you should be the most wary of his actions. You should know by now that he never does anything without a reason for his personal gain.”
“I know that!” she shot back. “You don’t think I understand what kind of slag I could’ve gotten myself into? I do! From personal experience, and now every detail, everything is back in my mind.”
Dinobot’s optics flashed with realization. “You have recovered your memories?”
“Since I was fifteen stellar cycles of age. Ten stellar cycles of my life on Cybertron, and I remember everything about what happened. My scars hurt more than ever, and all old wounds are reopened. Believe me,” she taped her chest with a closed fist. “I knew exactly what could’ve happened if I made a single wrong move.”
Dinobot growled in frustration and regarded her with a cold glare. “Since you now remember your history, I would like you to inform me where you learned to plunge head first into such a lethal situation. Is this what the Maximal military teaches?”
“No, I believe I have Taratron to thank for this attitude,” she folded her arms under her chest, a defiant look on her face.
For the second time a look of agitation passed over the former Predacon’s features. “Somehow, I find it hard to believe that a warrior such as your brother taught you to be suicidal. It is dishonorable. But perhaps I speak out place. Perhaps he was not the warrior legends state.”
He wasn’t very surprised when Blackarachnia’s fist slammed into his face. He stumbled a meter back, but did not retaliate. Whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, the raptor noticed that she had drawn mech fluid.
“Who in the inferno do you think you are?!” she shouted, angry beyond words. “What gives you the right to say anything about my brother?! You met him once; you didn’t know him!”
For a moment, there was complete silence. Blackarachnia, too furious with the raptor to speak to him. Dinobot, too deep in thought to respond to the accusations.
“You speak the truth: I did not know him,” he finally turned his back to her and headed for the base, muttering something after him that Blackarachnia didn’t catch. “I did not know him, but neither did you.”
* * * * * * * * *
Blackarachnia kicked of her knee-high boots, and leaned back in the chair, propping her feet up on the desk. She flipped through a few pages of The Two Towers, which she had gotten into a few hours ago and looked at the digital chronometer on her desk. 2000 hours, and she was still frustrated over her argument with Dinobot in the morning. He didn’t mean anything bad, she knew that much. No matter how suspicious the former Predacon’s actions seemed, his intentions were always in the right place. The door buzzed, and Blackarachnia looked up from her book.
“Come in,” she called, and Dinobot entered the room. Seeing who it was, the female scoffed in disgust. Despite everything, she was still frustrated with his attitude on the subject of Taratron. The raptor didn’t seem to like her brother, and she wasn’t sure why. “I don’t suppose you’re here to say you’re sorry,” she asked dryly, her attention back on the book.
“If that will be necessary, I shall apologize,” the raptor replied. “I have come to speak to you of a matter of great importance.”
“Do I have a choice weather to listen to you or not?”
“Yes, you have a choice, but it is in your best interest to hear me out,” he glanced at the two books on the table and then at the book her hand. “I never suspected you would read Tolkien. What do you think of the books so far?”
Blackarachnia thought and then let out an amused chuckle. “You know, the funny thing is that my brother had been after me to read these for stellar cycles. Anárion, or Silverbolt, also asked me about that. I was so dead-set against it, and now I don’t know why.”
“Humm,” he was thoughtful. “Which of the characters do you prefer thus far?”
“That’s a tough one,” she admitted and thought. “From the fellowship, it would have to be Boromir, because he’s the most realistic of them. He has his faults, but then who doesn’t, right?” The former Predacon nodded. “And then, I just started The Two Towers, and of the new additions I’d have to say Éomer.”
Dinobot raised an eyebrow. “An interesting choice. Why Éomer?”
“Because of his loyalty,” she replied and then laughed at the innuendo. “That must’ve sounded very hypocritical of me. Loyalty. Ha!”
“You forget, thought, that Éomer was not loyal to any particular cause,” he pointed out.
“No,” she realized that he was right. “No, Éomer’s loyalty was to his family, his younger sister and uncle. And he has a strong willed, another thing I admire about him. On some level he reminds me of my brother.”
“And so the conversation has come full circle,” he noted. “We are back on the subject of your brother.”
Blackarachnia’s smile immediately fell. “Dinobot, I’m really not interested in anything you have to say about Taratron. The fact is...”
“The fact is that he was not the man you idealize him to be,” the warrior interrupted, and when she was about to protest, he raised his hand as a sign for her to be quiet. “Isis Khmer, you will hear me out! Taratron was a dishonorable man, despite what you remember of him. He was a traitor and a war criminal, who does not deserve to be called a warrior.”
Anger rushed through her mech fluid as Blackarachnia sprang to her feet, shoving Dinobot to the other side of the room. “You asshole! Say that about my brother one more time, and I swear to Primus, I’ll kill you! When Optimus asks, I’ll tell him that it’s the way it happened! You don’t understand; I owe everything to Taratron.”
“I understand
better then you think,” Dinobot replied calmly. “And you are correct; you do
owe everything to Taratron. Everything including being captured by the Predacons
and raped by Shifter. I know, because I am Taratron.”
Chapter 13
For a long moment there was complete silence in the room. Blackarachnia stared at the veloceraptor in a mixture of rage and confusion. Then she chuckled cryptically, which the male took as a very bad sign.
“Very funny,” she said dryly. “No offence, but Taratron was a Maximal,” Dinobot didn’t say anything, his features grim, and finally the female’s optics widened in horrifying realization. “Wasn’t he?!”
“No,” the former Predacon shook his head. He took a deep breath and released it in an exhausted sigh, then gestured at the chair. “Sit down, little sister. We have a lot to discus, and I have a lot to explain.”
Still partially paralyzed by the bombardment of shocking news, Blackarachnia fell into the chair. Dinobot took a seat in front of her and leaned further in onto his elbows. After another long stretch of silence, Blackarachnia swallowed hard and looked up at him.
“Why did you tell me that Taratron was dead?” oddly enough, she realized that her first question had nothing to do with his betrayal.
“I thought it may be easier for you if you believed that I was dead, rather then for you to know the truth behind my dishonorable actions,” he answered slowly.
“And,” she looked down, away from his scarlet gaze, “what is the truth?”
“It is very difficult to explain,” he bit down on his lower lip. “Much of it has very little to do with you, in fact. I assume you know what the Predacon Secret Police is?”
“Sort of. I know Tarantulas was part of it.”
“Correct. The Predacon Secret Police partially resembled the Maximal Investigation Unit, what you should remember as the M.I.U.. Their primary missions also revolved around gathering information, but many of the Predacons that were part of the Secret Police had additional assignments. Shifter’s —Tarantulas’— was to deal with the Maximal prisoners of war. I was part of the Predacon Secret Police as well. However my task was different.”
“Wait!” she interrupted. “The Predacons were not supposed to know about the M.I.U.!”
“ ‘Were not supposed to know’ and ‘did not know’ are to very different things, child,” he pointed out.
“But you were part of the M.I.U.! You served in the Maximal military! You were there at Helm’s Deep twenty-three stellar cycles ago!” Blackarachnia realized that she was grasping at straws because a part of her mind simply refused to accept the facts.
“Yes, I was there...as a Predacon spy. You see, the truth is that the Tripredicus Council knew of the existence of the M.I.U. for a very long time, but they had no knowledge of the internal operations, nothing but the general function of the organization. They needed to know more, and for that to occur, they needed someone on the inside.”
“But you were with the Maximal military for many stellar cycles before the M.I.U.,” she objected. “We were recruited together when I was twenty-five stellar cycles of age.”
“True, and I was well over forty then. Part of the reason you were recruited is in fact the same reason why the Predacons wanted you dead so greatly,” he looked at the nightstand on the other side of the room. “Do you see that pen? Bring it here.”
“What?! What in the Inferno does that slagin’ pen have to do with anything?!”
“A great deal. Now do as I ask,” Blackarachnia sighed and got up.
“What are you doing?” Dinobot interrupted.
“Getting the slagin’ pen!”
“I said ‘bring it here’ not ‘get up and take it,’” he corrected. “Use your mind, Blackarachnia. Call it to you.”
Annoyed and confused, she reached out for the pen on the table. It began to tremble in its place from her mental nudges, then sprang into the air hovering a foot above the table. With another mental push from Blackarachnia, it flew across the room and into her open palm. She stared at it for a nanoclick then handed it to Dinobot, who nodded.
“This is why you were so infamous among the Predacons and why Shifter wanted to reprogram you,” he held up the pen for both of them to see. “You showed signs of telekinetic potential as early as age nine.”
“And of course you made sure that the Predacons knew about it,” she said sarcastically.
“I never reported anything,” Dinobot objected. “They found out by accident. You probably don’t remember this, but when you were about nine, you were captured by the Predacons. They had no reason to keep you prisoner, and I did make sure you were released. But during the few solar cycles that you were in their captivity, your abilities manifested, probably due to high levels of stress. Some of the Predacons took note of this, and the Tripredicus Council questioned me.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I attempted to convince them that you were not a threat,” he explained, “but they did not agree with me. They argued that if you were to join the army, the Maximals would have a great strategic advantage over the Predacons. They never saw you as an individual, little sister. All they saw was a weapon. One of them suggested reprogramming, but I quickly reminded them that it would uncover my place in the Maximal army. ‘She is only a child,’ I told them. ‘You still have time. Leave her in my care, and I will personally see to it that she will not become a liability.’ The Tripredicus Council finally agreed, though very reluctantly. Do you follow me so far?”
“I think so,” she nodded.
“Good.
Everything was relatively quiet for many stellar cycles, but by the time we were
reassigned to the M.I.U., the Tripredicus Council was once again questioning me
on the subject. They were concerned that you were becoming too powerful and too
attached to the Maximal way of life. Finally they gave me an alterative
solution: terminate your life or allow Shifter to reprogram you into a Predacon.
I chose the later.”
Chapter 14
He finished and looked at her, but her gaze was focused on the floor. When Blackarachnia finally spoke, her voice was quiet.
“I honestly don’t know who I despise more at the moment: you or Tarantulas. No, probably you,” her voice rose, “because Tarantulas is, and always has been, an asshole. Primus knows he’s not gonna change. But you! I thought you were a decent person. You claimed to have honor, swore not to harm the innocent and all that slag! Taratron, I thought you were my brother,” she sighed and whispered. “You betrayed me.”
“I know,” Dinobot nodded. His features were cool, but crimson optics betrayed the emotion of sorrow, “and I am so sorry, though I know that does not even begin to make things right.”
“Nothing can make things right!” she shouted. “Do you know what he did to the POWs? To me? Because if you don’t, it’s not so bad. Okay, you were a Predacon, you had your orders. I can understand that much, but if you knew...”
“I knew,” the raptor confirmed. “Once again, I am sorry. I hate him just as much as you do.”
“No one hates him as much as I do,” she objected through gritted teeth.
“He took away your innocence, and for that I shall despise him with my last breath,” he paused. “I realize, of coarse, that much of the blame is mine.”
The female took a deep breath, shaking her head and choking back a sob. “No, I lost it long before I ever even heard of that bastard. I can’t remember ever being innocent. It’s was probably buried at Helm’s Deep or maybe the Predacon prison camp, but I don’t remember either event.”
“You’re wrong,” he said. “You have not lived long enough to understand. Even now, after all you have lived through, you still retain some of your innocence. In fact most bots here know very little of what war is truly like. Accept perhaps the vermin and myself, of coarse,” Blackarachnia gave him a quizzical look, and he elaborated. “I am much older then you and have lived a long life... too long perhaps. I have seen suffering and was often the cause of it. You still have quite a long way to go before you reach the point where I am, and I honestly hope you never reach that it.”
Blackarachnia released a dry humorless chuckle. “Set your heart at rest, I will never be anything like you!” she got up abruptly and went to the panel that controlled the door, pressing a button to open it. She leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed under her chest. “Get out, Dinobot. We have nothing left to discus, and I no longer consider you my brother.”
Dinobot regarded her, seemingly cold optics reflecting defeat. He took a deep breath and got up. “As you wish,” he passed her with a slight bow and walked out into the hallway.
“Dinobot,” she called after him, and the raptor turned to face her. “I wish you hadn’t told me anything. It was much easier for me to remember you as a hero then a traitor. I never wanted to hate you.”
“But none of us can control our emotions,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel that you are obligated to forgive me for any reason, because there is no forgiveness for the damned. Good-bye, little sister.”
* * * * * * * * *
By the time he reached his quarters, Dinobot was mentally and physically exhausted. Pain consumed his body, and he simply fell down on the recharge bed. The present events couldn’t possibly get any worse, and the future didn’t seemed very bright either. Finally, he turned his attention on the past, searching his memory banks for answers,
Flashback,
“What in the pit is this slag?” Taratron muttered starring at his laptop terminal. Six months after Helm’s Deep, and there were still no traces of the missing Maximals from the battle. The squad leader had no doubt that anyone unaccounted for was now a prisoner of war. Over two dozens of them, male and female, young and old, had been missing. Taratron snarled in disgust. The death of solders was a given, and casualties of war were also inevitable, but the slaughter of the innocent was an act of disgrace.
He stopped and then smiled to himself. Innocence had not died, at least not completely. He saw it every day in the smile of the little girl. She had been with him for all this time, and Taratron had to admit, though rather reluctantly, that he had grown very found of her. Surrounded by soldiers in the army, he couldn’t recall the last time he associated with any children. It was very refreshing to get a child’s view on the world.
Taratron stretched in his chair and looked at the chronometer. 0346 hours, and he was in need of recharge. He got up and headed for his bedroom. On the way he passed the small room that had been set aside for the girl and decided to check on her. He was expecting to find her sound asleep but instead discovered that her bed was empty. Taratron switched on the lights.
“Isis?”
“Here,” a small voice called from the corner. Taratron turned and saw her standing next to the drawers. A few of her things had been removed and piled onto the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing, child?” he frowned and kneeled beside her.
Isis sniffed and wrinkled her nose, giving him her best ‘stupid grown-up’ look. “What does it look like? I’m running away.”
“Oh,” not that he was worried that she’d actually leave the military base, but Taratron had no idea how to handle the situation. Something was clearly bothering the child, and he intended to find out what it was. “Isis,” he picked up her things and placed them back in the drawers, “why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”
She didn’t respond, but instead turned her head away from him. Taratron sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of her. This was going to be very difficult. “Why do you want to run away?”
There was silence for a nanoclick, then Isis spoke without turning to face him. “I…I heard the soldiers talking,” she said in a quiet voice. “They…were talking about me, and one of them said, ‘What were they thinking?’ and the other nodded and said, ‘This is a military base, not a day care center,’” she sniffed again, whipping her tear stoked face with the back of her hand. “No one wants me here.”
Slowly, arms folded around herself, she began to cry. Soft, silent sobs shook he small body. Taratron moved closer and carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Isis tried to pull away, but he held her firmly. Finally she gave in and sobbed into his shoulder as he held her. After a while, the sobs slowed.
“I want you here,” Taratron whispered.
Isis pulled back, her crimson optics met his violet gaze. “Really?”
“Of coarse,” he nodded. “What do you say we give this another try?” he ran a hand through her long, tangled hair.
The little girl was clearly considering it, but she was not convinced. Feeling that the bots of the army had let her down, she was reluctant to put her trust in them again.
“Come on,” Taratron coaxed softly. He reached out and whipped the tears left on her cheeks. “I’ll take care of you.”
The words left his mouth before he even realized what he was saying. Only after he said them, did Taratron realize the enormous task he was taking on. But he didn’t back out. The girl needed someone, and on some level, he felt that he needed her as well.
“You promise?” Isis’ voice was full of hope.
“Yes, I promise,” Taratron took a deep breath and kissed the top of her head. “After all, that is what families do, is it not? They take care of one another.”
“Family? Like a mommy and a daddy?”
Taratron winced; the title ‘daddy’ didn’t appeal to him. “No, like…like a big brother,” he corrected. “Have you ever had a brother?” she shook her head. “Well now you do.”
Isis smiled, but then rubbed her optics and yawned. It was very late; she was exhausted. Taratron took her in his arms, and she snuggled against him. He moved a stray lock of hair away from her face and rocked her in his arms until she finally fell asleep. He then got up and carried her to the bed, gently placing her down and pulling the warm covers up to her shoulders. Isis shifted in her sleep, trying to get comfortable. Once he was sure she wouldn’t wake up again, Taratron turned off the lights and walked out, quietly closing the door behind himself.
“Sleep well, little sister.”
End of Flashback,
“I broke my
promise,” he ground, burring his face in his claws. “I failed her
completely.”
Dinobot woke nearly ten hours later due to something that was making a buzzing sound. Instinctively, he reached for the chronometer next to his bed. After failing to make the noise stop, he became annoyed. Angry, he hurled the chronometer across the room. It hit the wall and smashed to pieces, but the noise continued. Dinobot raised his head and looked around his quarters before realizing that the sound was actually coming from outside. Someone was at the door.
“Leave!” he shouted, but whoever was at the door was very persistent.
“Yo, ya overgrown iguana! Ya know what time it is?”
“Vermin?” the former Predacon opened the door just slightly, but it was enough for the transmetal rat, who rolled inside and transformed to robot mode. Dinobot growled in frustration. “Have the curtsey to promptly exit my quarters, garbage breath, before I throw you out.”
“Sheesh don’t shoot the messenger, chopperface. Trust me I ain’t in this hole-in-the-wall ya call quarters for fun. It just so happens that the boss monkey has been tryin’ to reach ya. Ya been dead or somethin’?”
“Possibly, yes,” he growled. “Now what does the primate want of me?”
“Ya got mornin’ patrol with the bird-dog. Did ya forget?”
Dinobot’s features screwed up. He realized that not only did the day start badly but that it would get even worse. Under normal circumstances, the Fuzor was not too bad on patrols. He was good-natured and a bit naive by Dinobot’s standards. However if anything could be said about Silverbolt it was that he was extremely protective of his mate.
“I will be there soon. Now get out!” he picked up the transmetal rat by the scarf of his neck and literally threw him out the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
The future inhabitance of earth known as humans would come to adore the landscape of the Rocky Mountains. They would call the site the Grand Canyon, and come from all over the globe to see it. But that was four million years into the future. The bearer of the silver wings who soared over the scene could only see a thin blue shimmer that was the river fated to carve the mountains to its will. Mighty rocks would break under its persistent pounding, and the earth itself would wash away. Of coarse that was too long away for Silverbolt to worry about.
“Optimus reported traces of Predacon activity in this sector,” he called down to the velociraptor from his position in the sky. “I suggest we begin our search with the rock formation up ahead.”
“As you like,” his companion muttered.
The Fuzor raised an eyebrow. Wolf ears perked up as Silverbolt spread his wings, gliding down. As soon as his eagle talent touched the ground, he transformed to robot mode and faced Dinobot.
“Is something troubling you, Dinobot?” he peered at the raptor.
“Mind your own business, Fuzor,” he spat with a growl.
“I believe it is my business,” Silverbolt replied, unmoved by the insult, “at the very least, it is my concern. If my friend is in trouble, I would like to help.”
Dinobot regarded the Maximal Fuzor with a mixture of distrust and apprehension. If Silverbolt knew of the events that took place the previous evening, he was hiding it well. Perhaps he was truly concerned. After all, the silver transformer was the last bot in this war who would plot or scheme something. He usually voiced his opinion without regard for what would be thought of him later. He was not at fault, in which case Dinobot had no right to be angry with him.
“My apologies, Silverbolt. It is true that I am concerned about something.”
Silverbolt frowned and cocked his head to the side. “You called me by name,” he observed. “Is that respect I sense in your voice, Dinobot?”
“Is that sarcasm?” he stalked forward a few feet.
“Not all, my friend,” the Fuzor replied honestly. “I am mearly observing the fact that I may be able to assist you in finding the solution to your situation... Taratron.”
The raptor froze in his tracks. So he did know after all. “Does she inform you of everything?” he faced Silverbolt once again.
“I hope so.”
“And you have yet to attempted to attack me?”
“Blackarachnia personally asked me not to do so,” the other male smiled, but then his face became serious. “What happened, Dinobot? I refuse to believe that you committed this atrocious act of betrayal with no remorse. Perhaps there are vital details of which I am unaware?”
“If she recalled everything I told her, then there is nothing to add.”
They exchanged looks of suspicion. On his part, Dinobot was wondering what was going through the Fuzor’s mind. Surely Silverbolt must have been furious, even if he didn’t show it. This puzzled the former Predacon, for such behavior was extremely out of character for the silver transformer. If he was truly not angry, what was he thinking? As it happened Dinobot didn’t have to wait long to find out. Silverbolt gave him a solemn nod, then his features turned to an understanding smile.
“I am glad to hear it.”
“Why?” the raptor was now completely confused. He did not follow the Fuzor’s logic at all.
“Because it means that you truly cared for her,” seeing that Dinobot was not understanding him, he attempted to explain better. “You did this because the Tripredicus Council was planning to execute her, correct?” Dinobot nodded. “Your intention was to save her life; though I have no doubt there was a better way, the intention itself was in the right place.
“What you still fail to realize is that your priority was different from her own. Yours was to save her life, even if it came down to reprogramming. Hers was not to lose her sense of self. Understand, my friend, that she does not fear death, but she does fear Tarantulas and his capability to make her lose the knowledge of who she is.”
For the first time since they met, Dinobot regarded Silverbolt with high respect. He saw a warrior not only of the sword and battle but also of wisdom.
“You speak the truth,” he replied. “I only whish I saw it earlier, before it was too late.”
“Ah but that is another tragic piece to this tale. There was no possible way for you to recognize her priorities or fears, because she had not realized what they truly were at the time. Tarantulas seems to posses the kind of evil whose full magnitude cannot be recognized unless one experiences it directly. You are not an evil man, Dinobot. Yes, you made a bad choice, but that does not make you an evil man.”
“I appreciate that,” he replied sincerely, “but I do not deserve your forgiveness.”
“Many do not
deserve what they have,” Silverbolt observed, “and others who have nothing
deserve the world. Can you give them that? Then do not be so quick to deal out
judgment, especially on yourself.”
After over three megacycles of staring at the streams of data code, Blackarachnia finally decided that there was no way she would be able to concentrate on any of it. Her mind simply refused to work, to think of anything beyond the events of the previous evening. She finally gave up on the code and shut down the terminal, leaning back in her chair deep in thought.
She had asked Silverbolt not to harm him, which was one of the things that unnerved her. Blackarachnia never tolerated any betrayals, why should she start now?
“Because,” she whispered reaching across her desk to pick up the holographic generator and activate it, “when I think of Taratron, I see my brother, the man who raised me and taught me everything I know, not the one who betrayed me.”
Returning the small holographic generator to its place on the table, she got up. Staying in the her quarters was obviously not helping at all, so Blackarachnia decided to take a stroll through the rest of the Ark. The Autobot ship itself was, of coarse, forbidden territory. Optimus didn’t want anyone meddling with history, whether it was intentional or not. However in her case, Blackarachnia believed he would be willing to make an acceptation. There was someone in that ship who she really needed to talk to.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Well I gotta tell you, you’re the last bot I expected to run into on this slagin’ mission you sent me on,” the female looked up at the enormous lifeless body of the Autobot Prowl. “How are you, sir? Don’t worry about X: Depth Charge has that department under control. Not that I’m not doing my job, but he’s just much more... loyal to it, and I have quite a few personal things to worry about.”
She was silent for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. Even though Prowl was in stasis lock, wouldn’t wake up for another four million years, and couldn’t hear a word she said, Blackarachnia still felt a pang of guilt for what she was about to say.
“Did you know that he was a Predacon? No, I guess you wouldn’t have,” she chuckled. “See, I’m not mad at him for that. I was a Predacon too for a time, and I can understand some things. But he betrayed me. Kind of strange, don’t you think? Primus knows how many of our secrets he gave away to the Tripredicus Council, how many people died at his hands, but all I care about is what he did to me. Wasn’t it the same way with Shifter? I guess, that just means I’m a selfish person.”
She moved a stray lock of hair way from her face, looking back up at her once and future commander. “What should I do now?” as expected the Autobot didn’t reply, so Blackarachnia jumped down from the arm of the enormous chair. “Thanks anyway, sir. You always did know what to say.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The next stop for her was the virtual reality battle simulator. Blackarachnia was surprised to find that it was still running. Chances are whoever used it last forgot to turn it off. Three guesses who that was? she thought as the thick gray fog clouded her optics. After it passed, the beautiful setting of the Japanese Dojo unfolded before her. She looked around and noticed the portable shelf of weapons. A long, thin, and slightly curved blade caught her attention, and she picked it up. It felt good to hold such an elegant weapon. She kicked off her boots, and bare-footed stepped onto the bamboo mat. A few fluid movements, and the blade sliced cleanly through the air, leaving nothing but a soft swoosh like the wind. She placed the sword back on the shelf. It was no use. Betrayal was like that; it wasn’t an enemy she could fight with swords or guns. Blackarachnia sighed and sat down cross-legged on the mat.
Primus, what’s wrong with me? she shut off her optics. I should know the drill by now. One should never trust a traitor. Never. And he’s a traitor a million times over. He betrayed both the Maximals and the Predacons countless times, which was bad enough, but he betrayed me once, and that was worse. And what can I do about this betrayal? I don’t want to kill him, but a part of me wants to hurt him for what he did.
Focus on something else, a part of her commanded. You’re not helpless, not a victim. You don’t want to get hurt again, and the best way to avoid it is to prepare for whatever that asshole has in store for you next. Tarantulas wants you for your abilities, right? So next time you’ll give him everything you’ve got.
Blackarachnia’s optics snapped open. She knew what she had to do. If she wanted any chance of getting out of this nightmare, she would have to do it on her own, and that meant bringing her abilities to full power. More importantly, she needed to learn how to control that power. Dinobot had mentioned that it manifested before during times of heightened emotional stress. While it was true that Blackarachnia could do some things, such as moving a small object through the air, she couldn’t do anything like what he’d described. Now was the best time to learn.
She took a deep breath and shut off her optics again, drawing herself into the darkest reaches of her mind. Strangely enough, she soon discovered that she was not afraid. It’s kind of like walking through a dark room, she thought. I know there is nothing here, in this darkness, that can harm me, but there is something unknown to me within my own mind, and that’s what I’m here to find out.
With very little effort, she created the same setting in her mind as the one she was really in. Every detail, from the bamboo floor to the four windows to the weapon shelf, was present. Because it wasn’t solid or even real, she willed it up. It sprang from the shelf, hovering about a meter from the ground. At Blackarachnia’s mental command, it sliced through the air, simulating the motions she practiced earlier. When it stopped, the female left it hanging with the slightly curved end so close, she could almost feel the cold metal on the tip of her nose. Finally she switched her optics back on.
Though she half
expected it, Blackarachnia was still a bit surprised to find the real, and very
sharp, blade hovering in the air and pointed straight at her. Her mind wavered
as her fluid pump sped up slightly, and the sword flinched. Realizing that she
had lost control over it, she quickly ducked to the floor as the sword flew past
and above her head. It hit the wall, which, despite the hologram that gave the
impression of a wooden surface, was solid steel, and bent slightly.
Blackarachnia got back up to her feet and picked it up. At least she was able to
wield it. With more practice, she was confident that she could master her
abilities and bring them to full power by the time her impending battle with
Tarantulas arrived.
Chapter 17
Dinobot sniffed at the air and immediately shuttered, shaking his head to get rid of the smell.
“Disgusting,” he gave a low growled, “and for once it is not the vermin.”
“Do you detect something?” Silverbolt, who was once again in beast mode and in the air, called down.
“Most likely someone,” the raptor gestured for his companion to come down. Silverbolt landed, and Dinobot lowered his voice. “I have reason to believe we are being tracked.”
His companion’s wolf muzzle twitched as he, too, discovered something. “There is a fell scent in our midst,” he agreed. “In fact, I believe there are two.”
“How very observant, Fuzor,” the two Maximals whirled around finding themselves face to face with Rampage and Tarantulas. Both were fully armed.
“What have we here? Two little Maximals who lost their way?” the Trensmetal spider chuckled at his own humor.
“A good solar cycle to be terminated,” Rampage laughed in his spark-chilling voice.
“Only for you, villain,” Silverbolt bared his teeth as he landed, immediately transforming to robot mode and locking two feather missiles on the two Predacons.
“Don’t falter yourself, hero,” Tarantulas rolled his optics, looking incredibly board. “You’re only bait. I have a much bigger prize in mind. Good to see you again, Taratron,” he addressed Dinobot. “How tragic your predicament must be; to believe that you killed your own sister, discover that she is indeed alive, only to loose her to the truth of your betrayal.”
Dinobot only growled in reply, which the spider calmly ignored. “I only wish she were here so that you could witness as I exterminate her once and for all.”
“Well you know what they say,” came the soft feminine voice. The four bots present turned just in time to see Blackarachnia stride onto the field, and Tarantulas regarded her carefully.
She stood tall an proud with her head held high. Her hands were folded under her chest, and she radiated a aura of confidence. There was no trace of anger or fear on her fair features. He would have never admitted, but there was something about her current demeanor that unnerved him. During their usual confrontations, he was the one in control. She could act tough and sarcastic, but he could always feel her fear. Now it was gone.
Blackarachnia’s body rose as she levitated herself between the Predacons and Silverbolt and Dinobot. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she spoke without looking at either of them keeping her optics focused on Tarantulas and Rampage the whole time.
“Anárion, Taratron, get out of here; this is my fight.”
From the corner of her optic, she saw that Silverbolt was about to object, but Dinobot placed a claw on his shoulder.
“It is her choice,” the raptor told him.
“Let her fight alone against those monsters?” the Fuzor demanded shocked and angry. “Are you mad? She will be terminated!”
“I doubt it,” Dinobot shook his head. “I have faith in that she knows the extent of her strength and who she is up against.” He pulled the reluctant Silverbolt away to a small hill overlooking the clearing. “We will not interfere,” he called down to her, “but should you ask for our help, we shall not abandon you.”
Blackarachnia scowled at this. “Better late then never, I suppose. At least I can count on Silverbolt,” but it was hard to ignore the hurt look that passed over her brother’s face. She turned her attention to the two Predacons, starting with Rampage. “I don’t have time to deal with you this solar cycle. Go find Depth Charge to play with or something,” she waved her hand in a sign of dismissal, but X wouldn’t have it.
“Nice try, lady, but we have a score to settle too, remember?” he smirked, referring to the incident right after she became a Trensmetal 2.
Blackarachnia shrugged. “Okay I get it: you like getting your tailpipe kicked and having your circuits all over the canyon walls. Fine with me.”
With a single thought, the crab went flying back into the mountain side. Rampage’s optics widened in surprise, but he didn’t get a chance to react before the next assault. The invisible but powerful force of Blackarachnia’s mind took hold of him again, bringing his massive body crashing into the ground with devastating effects. From their positions on the hill, Silverbolt and Dinobot could feel the ground tremble under the shock-wave from the Predacon’s impact.
“I do not understand,” the Fuzor shook his head in astonishment. “How is she able to accomplish this?”
“Thorough her mind and strength of will. Rampage’s mind is unfocused, thus he’s hardly a match for her.”
“What about Tarantulas?”
“That is a far more dangerous battle,” the former Predacon admitted. “Tarantulas had knowledge of her abilities before she did, and he has a psychological advantage as well. We can only hope that he under estimates her.” They fell silent looking back down at the battlefield.
Blackarachnia levitated herself to float less then a meter from where Rampage fell. With a flick of her wrist, she picked him up off the ground. By this point, the crab was nearly incoherent due to the amount of damage he accumulated. The female floated closer to him.
“Did you get the point yet, slag heap?” she sounded dead serious but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “In case you didn’t...” Another swift motion and Rampage went flying into the distance, crashing several miles away. He didn’t rise again.
Once the screams of the Trensmetal crab faded, she turned her full attention on Tarantulas. She opened her palm, and his gun was wrenched out of his claw. It hung in the air in front of her as she circled it slowly, observing it as if there was some fascinating secret to be unlocked. Then her crimson optics glanced back at him.
“An interesting weapon,” she commented, once again deliberately echoing his words. “I wonder if you’ve ever experienced its effects.” She turned the weapon on him, cocking the gun with a mental tap.
“Witch! You wouldn’t dare!” but he didn’t sound very confident of his claim.
“You’re
right,” she agreed throwing the weapon aside and out of his reach. “Primus
forbid, I become anything like you. This battle will be fought on a different
field.”
Chapter 18
You must be strong, Isis. As strong as you can possibly be, for the world is cruel. It will take advantage of you, if you allow it. I will protect you as long as I can, but even I will join the Matrix someday, and then you’ll be on your own, little sister.
Dinobot pondered at the irony of his own words. He had always known that one day, she would need protection from his betrayal, but never gave it much thought. He snapped back to attention; something was wrong. So far Tarantulas had been simply allowing her to attack him. Blackarachnia launched wave after wave of mental assaults, and the Predacon spider fell back every time. However Tarantulas had yet to make a decent retaliation that puzzled the veloceraptor. Dinobot knew that, while Tarantulas wasn’t the best fighter, he was good enough to put up quite a struggle.
“What is that spider up to?” he muttered to himself.
* * * * * * * * * *
Tarantulas smirked and looked up. Yes, he was ready now. Just once more...
Blackarachnia felt something tug at her mind after the last wave. It wasn’t painful, but felt rather like heavy pressure in her mind. It was becoming harder for her to focus and her control slipped. What was going on!? It took all her strength to push the foreign presence out of her mind, and once it was gone, she heard Tarantulas laugh loudly. Her head snapped up, and she glared at the Transmetal spider.
“What in the pit did you do?!” she demanded.
“I nearly reestablished the link between us,” the scientists looked very pleased.
“Impossible!” she scoffed, but Tarantulas could see the fear in her optics.
“I simply deciphered the pattern of your attacks,” he looked boarded as if explaining the most trivial thing to a child, “then followed them back to their source of origin: your mind. Try your little tricks again, and I promise you’ll be begging for termination.”
A deep suppressed fear tugged at the female. She knew full well that Tarantulas would do exactly as he threatened. He was never one to boast because there was never a need; his power was always, as he claimed, no more, no less.
Meanwhile, taking advantage of her momentary laps in concentration, Tarantulas made his move and opened fire with his shoulder machine guns. Startled Blackarachnia fell back under the rain of fire and was about to erect another shield from her telekinetic energy when she remembered his threat. Cursing under her breath, she broke out into a run throwing herself behind an enormous bolder that would serve for momentary protection.
Okay so much for my advantage, her mind raced to figure out an alternative method of fighting the madman. She had been counting on her newfound skills and hadn’t anticipated a need to have a secondary strategy. Which is a mistake only a rookie would have made, she scolded herself. How stupid could I be to put all my energy and trust into something that I barley know how to use?! She sighed and shook her head. Taratron taught me better then this.
* * * * * * * * * *
I taught me better then this! Dinobot growled under his breath. He wasn’t sure what happened, but it was clear that something prevented Blackarachnia from using her abilities. The fact that she ran rather than stood her ground also told him that she was lacked a backup plan.
“Foolish girl,” he growled. “Such sloppiness could very well get her terminated. What in the Inferno was she thinking?!”
“What is wrong?” Silverbolt saw what had happened, but unlike Dinobot he didn’t recognize the reason for the sudden shift in power on the battlefield. His warrior instinct were simply not as honed.
“It appears as if she may need our help after all,” the old warrior replied. “She clearly didn’t think this through as well as I’d hoped.”
* * * * * * * * * *
“Give it up, witch,” the spider took steady steps towards the bolder. His pace was slow in order to prolong her anxiety of defeat. “You know very well that it’s over.”
Blackarachnia narrowed her optics at this. She couldn’t use the mental waves, but her abilities didn’t end there. If only there was a way to magnify her attacks so that Tarantulas would be overpowered. If only she could defeat him. If only… But Blackarachnia was a very pessimistic person by nature. She would never surrender to him, but at the moment there didn’t seem to be any way she could win the battle.
Stepping out of the shelter of the bolder, she stood tall and proud, face-to-face with her nemesis, his eerie yellow optics burning into her flesh. All emotions dissolved; fear, anger, hope, and hate disappeared. Distantly she could here Tarantulas chuckling, but the world itself was fading away from her senses. A power deep inside her spark began to pulsate through her, and then a tiny sphere of light flared within, spreading its power beyond the confines of her body.
The two Maximal overseeing the battle blocked their optics as a dome of bright light surrounded Blackarachnia. It slowly grew to a radius of over thirty meters before resonating one last powerful burst of energy.
Fighting of the burning sensation from the light in his optics, Silverbolt forced his hand away from them and looked over at the battlefield. Blackarachnia’s face was expressionless, but as his golden optics meeting her crimson read ones, Silverbolt felt the bombardment of emotions pound into his spark. Anger, fear, despair, but amidst the pain and chaos, he picked up something else. Silverbolt’s optics widened in realization, but it was too late. She gave him a sad smile and closed her optics.
I love you...
Then the world
collapsed.
Chapter 19
The explosion rocked the ground with a tidal force of several volcanoes. There was a scream of someone in mortal terror, and a loud cry of a tortured spark in pain. Dinobot and Silverbolt were thrown several meters and slammed into the ground. For a few nanoclicks after the explosion of energy, they couldn’t move, but were finally able to look up without the saturated light impairing their vision.
The battlefield was completely gone. In its place stood a crater only a couple meters deep but with a radius of thirty meters, the same as the dome of light when it reached its maximum size. Everything around the crater was barren save for the violet and green scraps of metal scattered in and around it. Dinobot frowned at this then growled through gritted teeth.
“The remnants of the spider, no doubt,” he commented. “I have seen it before; unless his spark is extinguished, he will rebuild himself. This is not over.”
“Forget him,” there was a note of desperation to the Fuzor’s voice. “What about Blackarachnia?”
They rummaged through what little of the debris there were, then stepped back. There on the ground amidst the rubble, lay Blackarachnia’s body.
“She’s alive,” Silverbolt declared after a moment. “I can scene it, but we need to return to base as soon as possible. She needs immediate repairs.”
* * * * * * * * * *
“Welcome back, beloved,” Blackarachnia returned Silverbolt’s smile and looked around the med bay. They were the only two bots there. Everyone else probably returned to their everyday duties once they learned that she’d survive. Blackarachnia would never admit it to herself, but a small part of her had hoped that Dinobot would be there.
Silverbolt was silent for a moment, and then regarded her serious _expression with his golden gaze. “Your brother has been concerned about you.”
Blackarachnia notices how he emphasized the word ‘brother,’ but ignored it. “You think I should forgive him.” It wasn’t a question.
“I believe it is unjust to direct your hatred towards your brother. You hate Tarantulas, not Dinobot. You may be angry with him, and you have every right to be. But this act was not done out of spite or hatered towards you. Therefore I think you should at least think about it, before you decide to shut your brother out of your life forever. In the end, I think you are causing more harm to both of yourself and Dinobot if you do nothing.”
“Thanks for the lecture,” Blackarachnia scoffed, “but you don’t know that I don’t hate him.”
“Very well, then answer me this: what is he to you?”
* * * * * * * * * *
Dinobot rested on a small plateau on the other side of Mt. St. Hilary, away from the entrance to the Maximal base, watching as the sun set in the west, paining the sky in red and violet tones. He had no desire to be among the others at the moment and was content in his solitude. It gave him a chance to think. Most of his memories consisted of nightmares and battles, but there were many pleasant flashbacks. They revolved on the little girl, her face bright with joy. While he remembered that Isis suffered from nightmares after Helm’s Deep, they faded as she grew. Most of the time the only thing that hindered her happiness was minor damage from sparing with her classmates in basic training. Her innocence was often the only beacon of light in his life. He wished with all his spark that he could have foreseen and prevented the shadow of the past several years of her life, but it was too late now.
“It grows on you, doesn’t it?” he turned at the female voice. “This planet. It’s somehow young and innocent. Unlike the rest of us.” Blackarachnia sat down to his right.
“Yes,” he agreed. “A pity that is must be scared by our wars.” The two fell into silence again.
“I tried to hate you, you know,” Blackarachnia mused thoughtfully, tucking her knees under her chin. “At one point, I think I even convinced myself that I did. You were one of the few people I trusted completely, and then you betrayed me in the worst possible way. What Tarantulas did to me didn’t hurt nearly as much, because I expected that sort of thing from him. I have every reason to despise you,” Dinobot regarded her, hoping for a ‘but’ in her following statement. “Then Silverbolt asked me what you were to me, and that really made me think.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were my protector when I was young; my comrade in arms who helped me through countless battles. You were my teacher who first showed me how to fight. Often times you were the thorn in my side,” she smiled at the last comment. “I guess the best way to describe you is as my friend… and my brother.”
They sat in silence for a moment, then Dinobot sighed and looked to the sky. “Forgotten were not fast friendships of yore…”
Blackarachnia picked up on the poem and finished the verse. “In brotherhood bound the arms that we bore,” she sighed. “I remember. You taught me that poem when I went into my first battle.”
“And we lived by that vow,” he said. “I never intended any harm to come to you, little sister. I swear it.”
“I believe you,” she nodded, “and in a way, that makes it easier for me to forgive you. I told you I didn’t want to hate you, and it turns out I don’t. So I forgive you, and I’m willing to trust you again, at least to a point. Most of all, I will once again call you my brother.”
Dinobot was at a loss for words. “I am very grateful, Isis. You cannot imagine what a burden you took off my shoulders.”
“I can imagine,” Blackarachnia got up to leave. “Just promise me that you won’t betray my trust.”
“It is not my intention,” he replied truthfully.
“It wasn’t your intention to betray me the first time,” she retorted in a sharp voice. “Promise me, Taratron. Promise you won’t betray my trust again.”
“I swear it, Isis.”
* * * * * * * * * *
“ ‘Éowyn, Éowyn!’ cried Éomer amid his tears. But she opened her eyes and said: ‘Éomer! What joy is this? For they said that you were slain. Nay, but that was only the dark voices in my dream. How long have I been dreaming?’
‘Not long, my sister,’ said Éomer. ‘But think no more on it!’ “
~~ Éowyn and Éomer
of Rohan, The Return of the King
Epilogue
Cybertron, 19 stellar cycles earlier,
The room was mostly barren. The walls, the floor, even the bed sheets were all white. The two medical bots busied themselves around their charge, carefully taking data readings, which didn’t make any sense to them. Their charge’s brain waves were completely off the charts.
“Now you be a good little girl and hold still, okay?” the Maximal female smiled sweetly at the young girl, barely nine stellar cycles of age. She took her arm and pressed a hypo-needle into it. The girl squirmed on the bed uncomfortably.
“Where’s my big brother?” she demanded. The two medical bots exchanged a look.
“Probably damaged memory circuits,” the male murmured. The girls frowning at the strangers, not knowing what he meant.
“Let me try,” the female turned back to her. “Honey, you don’t have a brother.”
The girl rolled her red optics at them. Didn’t these adults know anything? “Of course I do,” she insisted. “Where’s Taratron? He was just here. Where’d he go?”
The two exchanged another look, but didn’t have a chance to speak. The door to the medical facility slid open, and the violet-eyed transformer came into view. He looked damaged and tiered, but he smiled as soon as he saw the girl.
“Taratron!” her bright red optics shined at the sight of her guardian. She reached out for him with her tiny arms, and he sat down by her bedside giving her a hug. With a wave of his hand, he demised the two confused medics. Pulling back from the hug, he soothed her blue curls and kissed her forehead.
“How are you feeling, Isis? How does your head feel?”
“Much better,” she beamed up at him. “What happened anyway?”
“You and the other children were taken by the Predacons,” he reminded her.
“Oh yeah,” she recalled. “And then you came and saved me. Again.”
“You didn’t think I would actually leave you there, little sister?”
“No, but I kept hoping you’d come, but then solar cycles passed and you still weren’t there,” she bowed her hear and pouted.
“But I was coming,” Taratron insisted, a bit hurt that his sister didn’t trust him enough to know. “Never think that I would abandon you, Isis, because that will never happen.”
“Promise?” she looked up at him, her optics wide and innocent.
“I swear it, Isis.”