Cybertronian Civil War part 10: Through the Storm
Posted: Thu May 22, 2008 4:51 pm
Part 10: Through the Storm
(Recap: Cybertronian Divisions wage war, blaming each other for recent Terrorist attacks. On Earth, the Maximals Topazor and Springer and human Chris search for the Terrorists’ identity. The team meets new friends: Cheetor, and humans Jessica and Ben. Earth is also stricken by the mysterious Attackers. A hero of the past living on Cybertron, Rattrap is the only bot aware of Terrorists’ identity. Cheetor found a ship for Topazor, who wonders about Cheetor’s secret studies. While the team fights to keep their ship safe from thieves, Cheetor steals the data tracks of the dead mercenary, Nightscream.)
The sound of gunfire filled the air. With the garage as their stronghold, Russell and his fifteen thieves held well against opposition. Topazor and Springer felt helpless; Megatron had taken their weapons when he kidnapped them, and if they went to physically attack, they would be held back by the gunshots, which to them felt like a horrible hornet’s sting. It was the humans Jessica, Ben, and Chris who were doing the real battling; hiding behind hay-bales and firing whenever they had a clean shot.
Springer was about to go out and attack even with the biting pain of the bullets, when reinforcements came to Russell. Apparently Russell had quite a lot of men in his “business.” There were about twenty-five men now, and to make matters worse, some of them had energon-guns! The thieves were nearly unstoppable.
“Scrap these humans!” muttered Springer.
“Watch your mouth,” said Topazor.
“I was planning on saying something MUCH worse,” retorted the soldier-bot.
Meanwhile Chris noticed Jessica fighting too. Worried, he ran over to her. Knowing that Jessica would never stop fighting without a good reason, Chris said, “Jess, I need you to go inside and get Cheetor!”
Jessica went. In a moment she returned, but there was no Cheetor with her. Over the sounds of firing, she shouted, “Something weird is going on in there! Cheetor’s gone and Nightscream is not in the CR-Chamber.”
“I’ll go check it out,” volunteered Topazor. When he reached the inside of the Café, Topazor ran over to Nightscream. The bat-bot was dead, and his data-tracks had been removed! “Who did this?” Topazor wondered. “Wait…Cheetor was the last one in here.”
Suddenly Topazor heard a quiet foot-fall behind him. He spun around, brandishing an energon-gun. There stood Cheetor. Topazor’s face was grim as he said, “Cheetor, drop your gun. Put your hands up and start explaining right NOW.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Cheetor innocently.
“Don’t play games with me!” growled Topazor. Trying not to think about how fit and fast Cheetor was, Topazor said, “I have the upper hand. Now tell me—why is Nightscream dead and where are his data tracks? Who are you, Cheetor?”
“I might ask the same thing about you,” said Cheetor, seriously. “Who exactly are you, whose side are you on? What do you want, and how much are you willing to give for it? These are the important questions we’ve all had to ask ourselves since the start of this war. It’s time you answered them, Topazor. You’re not an outsider, playing the ‘What would I do in that situation’ game; no, you’re in this game, and you have to decide what you want to do.”
Topazor thought about the questions. Then he answered very openly and honestly, “I am Topazor, son of Silverbolt, a Maximal politician. I am on the side of truth and justice. I want peace and freedom for myself, Earth, Cybertron, and all planets.”
Cheetor remained grave. “And the last question? How would you answer that? …Because you know, Topazor, that there’s never peace without first a war, and there’s freedom without sacrifice. But you’ll learn that over time.”
“And now,” said Topazor, “back to MY questions for YOU.”
Cheetor relaxed and took a deep breath. “Topazor, I like the way you handle yourself, though you’re kinda soft sometimes. Overall, I believe that you are the most capable person I’ve met, because you’ve got your heart straight. I want your help, Topazor—and for that reason I will explain myself fully.” The cool cat closed his optics, thinking back through the years. “I suppose you know that I was a hero of the Axalon. I helped bring Megatron back to Cybertron. Then the long process of restoring diplomatic peace on Cybertron began. While Optimus was busy with the trial of Megatron, and the other Maximals lived peacefully, Rattrap and I did a lot of undercover work. We kicked out questionable Predacons from the government, we helped establish new court systems, and most importantly, we investigated Crowe Mercenaries.”
“According to Chris, Crowe Mercenaries sold weapons to the Terrorists,” stated Topazor. “But I don’t think that can be true; you see, I had a friend that was a Mercenary.”
“You mean Miratron?” asked Cheetor. “Springer talks about her a lot. Do you remember the first day you met her? She infiltrated the Dome and an hour later, it exploded. Dude, the Maximal Reformists hired Miratron to blow the Dome!”
Topazor sighed. “I just don’t want to give up on Miratron, even if she is bad.”
“Terrorists, Maximals, and even the Government have bought weapons from Crowe before,” continued Cheetor. “After many years of watching their activities, I picked up news that Crowe had made contact with…the Vok.”
“The Vok?” exclaimed Topazor, in shock. “Do you mean that Crowe also has ties with the aliens?”
Cheetor nodded. “The Vok are still out there and communicating, but they don’t seem to be causing much trouble. Crowe is causing trouble. They’re a huge intergalactic company, who does business with everyone—Cybertron, terrorists, and the aliens. Rattrap infiltrated Crowe to gain information, and I came down here to protect Ben’s coding device from trouble. Later I learned that Chris had the coding device, and I could not protect it.”
“Why is the coding device important?” asked Topazor.
“The device is sought by the Terrorists who attacked Cybertron,” answered Cheetor. “It might be the key to their identity. That’s all I know. Right now, I’m trying to find a link, something connecting the civil War with the aliens. But I haven’t discovered anything at all. So I need your help, Topazor. I’m not as young as I once was, and I need your help to find Rattrap.”
***********************
Springer and the humans were about overwhelmed. Jessica and three other men tried a lethal attack by getting out from cover and making a dash nearer the garage, where they could get a clean shot at the thieves. But this move cost them one man, and Jessica escaped death by a hair’s breadth.
Infuriated, Chris dashed after Jessica and grabbed her. “Are you crazy? You could have gotten killed! Ben is the leader and you acted without permission!”
Jessica was busily reloading her gun. “It was a good plan, and as you can see for yourself, Ben is trying the same thing. Get close, shoot good, and hide. We’re outnumbered but we still have a chance. Besides, I’m too quick for those thugs.”
Chris remained protectively stubborn. “You could have gotten KILLED!” he repeated. “You’re never satisfied, are you? People in this stupid town just never understand me!”
This caught Jessica’s attention, and she scoffed, “I’m never satisfied?! You the one who left! You’re right that nobody understands you—how can we understand it when somebody we love leaves? Chris, you had everything you ever wanted; you were happy! At least that’s what I thought. Then you ran away and became a THUG! You’re such a jerk!”
Chris was very surprised at Jess’ sudden outburst. He stammered, “I ran away but it didn’t have anything to do with you. Why are you so angry at me?”
Jessica had to stop and catch her breath. Strands of hair fell around her face, which was flushed, and her lavender eyes were blazing. “You’re a jerk!” she repeated, her rage almost making her choke. Hot tears came to her eyes as she explained heatedly, “I’m angry….at you… because…when you left, I thought it was a reflection on me. I thought that you left because I wasn’t good enough, I was just boring, and—and—”
Suddenly overpowered by an emotion which he had been suppressing ever since his return, Chris leaned forward and kissed Jessica with all the passion he could muster. Everything was in that kiss—the explanation, that he had been young and stupid to leave, that Jessica could never make him leave, that he had always loved her.
The magic moment was interrupted, as Springer yelled, “Chris! Chris! Ben’s down! Come quick!”
Chris ran toward Springer, dodging gunshots as he cut through the open. He reached the stack of hay-bales behind which Springer and Ben were hiding. A little closer to the garage, Jessica and a few other citizens were still in crossfire with Russell’s gang.
Ben had been shot. When Chris saw his brother on the ground it was like being whacked in the face with a stick, or being wiped out by a tidal-wave. There was a sick feeling in his stomach and his head felt hazy.
“I’ll get a doctor!” said Springer, and ran.
As if in a dream, Chris knelt down beside Ben. They were alone behind the hay-bales. He tried to hold them back, but the tears came to Chris’ eyes anyway. He held his brother’s hand and watched as Ben slowly opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Ben weakly.
“You got nothing to be sorry for,” said Chris, fighting back his emotions. “Now save your energy; you’re gonna make it yet. …Ben, I’m the one to apologize. You were right—I shouldn’t have left you guys the way I did. I want to work things out—but the plain fact is, I’m not perfect. I can’t be perfect like you are, Ben.”
It took effort for Ben to speak and breath. “There’s no such things as perfect people,” he gasped. “And I am sorry, for pressuring you too much. You’ve grown up so much…you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna kick some enemy-butt out there…and you don’t have to win. …I’m…proud of you.”
Chris had always wanted to hear those words: “I’m proud of you.” But not like this—not over a deathbed. Deep down, Chris knew it was too late was for Ben. Chris’ tears began to fall on Ben’s hand.
“It’s okay,” said Ben, softly. “This how I wanted it—a noble death.”
“You were fighting for Cybertron, and for Earth,” agreed Chris, tremblingly.
“And for you,” added Ben with a weak smile. “I’ll always have your back.”
“Thanks, big brother,” whispered Chris, almost inaudibly. Then, as Ben passed away, he cried bitterly. Chris didn’t know how much time passed before he stopped crying. He looked around. It was only himself, Jessica, and Springer against the fearsome thieves. Wait, now Topazor and Cheetor were here too.
Cheetor bent down beside Ben, grieved. Springer remained respectfully silent, Jessica laid a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder, and Topazor quietly asked, “Chris, what do you want us to do? We’re at your command.”
Chris gathered up his nerves, brandished his gun, and replied stiffly, “We’re going to keep fighting. We’re gonna stay strong through the storm. Keep a steady hand,” he continued, sounding like a real leader, “and a sharp eye…and don’t lose sight of your goals. Let us fight!”
(Recap: Cybertronian Divisions wage war, blaming each other for recent Terrorist attacks. On Earth, the Maximals Topazor and Springer and human Chris search for the Terrorists’ identity. The team meets new friends: Cheetor, and humans Jessica and Ben. Earth is also stricken by the mysterious Attackers. A hero of the past living on Cybertron, Rattrap is the only bot aware of Terrorists’ identity. Cheetor found a ship for Topazor, who wonders about Cheetor’s secret studies. While the team fights to keep their ship safe from thieves, Cheetor steals the data tracks of the dead mercenary, Nightscream.)
The sound of gunfire filled the air. With the garage as their stronghold, Russell and his fifteen thieves held well against opposition. Topazor and Springer felt helpless; Megatron had taken their weapons when he kidnapped them, and if they went to physically attack, they would be held back by the gunshots, which to them felt like a horrible hornet’s sting. It was the humans Jessica, Ben, and Chris who were doing the real battling; hiding behind hay-bales and firing whenever they had a clean shot.
Springer was about to go out and attack even with the biting pain of the bullets, when reinforcements came to Russell. Apparently Russell had quite a lot of men in his “business.” There were about twenty-five men now, and to make matters worse, some of them had energon-guns! The thieves were nearly unstoppable.
“Scrap these humans!” muttered Springer.
“Watch your mouth,” said Topazor.
“I was planning on saying something MUCH worse,” retorted the soldier-bot.
Meanwhile Chris noticed Jessica fighting too. Worried, he ran over to her. Knowing that Jessica would never stop fighting without a good reason, Chris said, “Jess, I need you to go inside and get Cheetor!”
Jessica went. In a moment she returned, but there was no Cheetor with her. Over the sounds of firing, she shouted, “Something weird is going on in there! Cheetor’s gone and Nightscream is not in the CR-Chamber.”
“I’ll go check it out,” volunteered Topazor. When he reached the inside of the Café, Topazor ran over to Nightscream. The bat-bot was dead, and his data-tracks had been removed! “Who did this?” Topazor wondered. “Wait…Cheetor was the last one in here.”
Suddenly Topazor heard a quiet foot-fall behind him. He spun around, brandishing an energon-gun. There stood Cheetor. Topazor’s face was grim as he said, “Cheetor, drop your gun. Put your hands up and start explaining right NOW.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Cheetor innocently.
“Don’t play games with me!” growled Topazor. Trying not to think about how fit and fast Cheetor was, Topazor said, “I have the upper hand. Now tell me—why is Nightscream dead and where are his data tracks? Who are you, Cheetor?”
“I might ask the same thing about you,” said Cheetor, seriously. “Who exactly are you, whose side are you on? What do you want, and how much are you willing to give for it? These are the important questions we’ve all had to ask ourselves since the start of this war. It’s time you answered them, Topazor. You’re not an outsider, playing the ‘What would I do in that situation’ game; no, you’re in this game, and you have to decide what you want to do.”
Topazor thought about the questions. Then he answered very openly and honestly, “I am Topazor, son of Silverbolt, a Maximal politician. I am on the side of truth and justice. I want peace and freedom for myself, Earth, Cybertron, and all planets.”
Cheetor remained grave. “And the last question? How would you answer that? …Because you know, Topazor, that there’s never peace without first a war, and there’s freedom without sacrifice. But you’ll learn that over time.”
“And now,” said Topazor, “back to MY questions for YOU.”
Cheetor relaxed and took a deep breath. “Topazor, I like the way you handle yourself, though you’re kinda soft sometimes. Overall, I believe that you are the most capable person I’ve met, because you’ve got your heart straight. I want your help, Topazor—and for that reason I will explain myself fully.” The cool cat closed his optics, thinking back through the years. “I suppose you know that I was a hero of the Axalon. I helped bring Megatron back to Cybertron. Then the long process of restoring diplomatic peace on Cybertron began. While Optimus was busy with the trial of Megatron, and the other Maximals lived peacefully, Rattrap and I did a lot of undercover work. We kicked out questionable Predacons from the government, we helped establish new court systems, and most importantly, we investigated Crowe Mercenaries.”
“According to Chris, Crowe Mercenaries sold weapons to the Terrorists,” stated Topazor. “But I don’t think that can be true; you see, I had a friend that was a Mercenary.”
“You mean Miratron?” asked Cheetor. “Springer talks about her a lot. Do you remember the first day you met her? She infiltrated the Dome and an hour later, it exploded. Dude, the Maximal Reformists hired Miratron to blow the Dome!”
Topazor sighed. “I just don’t want to give up on Miratron, even if she is bad.”
“Terrorists, Maximals, and even the Government have bought weapons from Crowe before,” continued Cheetor. “After many years of watching their activities, I picked up news that Crowe had made contact with…the Vok.”
“The Vok?” exclaimed Topazor, in shock. “Do you mean that Crowe also has ties with the aliens?”
Cheetor nodded. “The Vok are still out there and communicating, but they don’t seem to be causing much trouble. Crowe is causing trouble. They’re a huge intergalactic company, who does business with everyone—Cybertron, terrorists, and the aliens. Rattrap infiltrated Crowe to gain information, and I came down here to protect Ben’s coding device from trouble. Later I learned that Chris had the coding device, and I could not protect it.”
“Why is the coding device important?” asked Topazor.
“The device is sought by the Terrorists who attacked Cybertron,” answered Cheetor. “It might be the key to their identity. That’s all I know. Right now, I’m trying to find a link, something connecting the civil War with the aliens. But I haven’t discovered anything at all. So I need your help, Topazor. I’m not as young as I once was, and I need your help to find Rattrap.”
***********************
Springer and the humans were about overwhelmed. Jessica and three other men tried a lethal attack by getting out from cover and making a dash nearer the garage, where they could get a clean shot at the thieves. But this move cost them one man, and Jessica escaped death by a hair’s breadth.
Infuriated, Chris dashed after Jessica and grabbed her. “Are you crazy? You could have gotten killed! Ben is the leader and you acted without permission!”
Jessica was busily reloading her gun. “It was a good plan, and as you can see for yourself, Ben is trying the same thing. Get close, shoot good, and hide. We’re outnumbered but we still have a chance. Besides, I’m too quick for those thugs.”
Chris remained protectively stubborn. “You could have gotten KILLED!” he repeated. “You’re never satisfied, are you? People in this stupid town just never understand me!”
This caught Jessica’s attention, and she scoffed, “I’m never satisfied?! You the one who left! You’re right that nobody understands you—how can we understand it when somebody we love leaves? Chris, you had everything you ever wanted; you were happy! At least that’s what I thought. Then you ran away and became a THUG! You’re such a jerk!”
Chris was very surprised at Jess’ sudden outburst. He stammered, “I ran away but it didn’t have anything to do with you. Why are you so angry at me?”
Jessica had to stop and catch her breath. Strands of hair fell around her face, which was flushed, and her lavender eyes were blazing. “You’re a jerk!” she repeated, her rage almost making her choke. Hot tears came to her eyes as she explained heatedly, “I’m angry….at you… because…when you left, I thought it was a reflection on me. I thought that you left because I wasn’t good enough, I was just boring, and—and—”
Suddenly overpowered by an emotion which he had been suppressing ever since his return, Chris leaned forward and kissed Jessica with all the passion he could muster. Everything was in that kiss—the explanation, that he had been young and stupid to leave, that Jessica could never make him leave, that he had always loved her.
The magic moment was interrupted, as Springer yelled, “Chris! Chris! Ben’s down! Come quick!”
Chris ran toward Springer, dodging gunshots as he cut through the open. He reached the stack of hay-bales behind which Springer and Ben were hiding. A little closer to the garage, Jessica and a few other citizens were still in crossfire with Russell’s gang.
Ben had been shot. When Chris saw his brother on the ground it was like being whacked in the face with a stick, or being wiped out by a tidal-wave. There was a sick feeling in his stomach and his head felt hazy.
“I’ll get a doctor!” said Springer, and ran.
As if in a dream, Chris knelt down beside Ben. They were alone behind the hay-bales. He tried to hold them back, but the tears came to Chris’ eyes anyway. He held his brother’s hand and watched as Ben slowly opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Ben weakly.
“You got nothing to be sorry for,” said Chris, fighting back his emotions. “Now save your energy; you’re gonna make it yet. …Ben, I’m the one to apologize. You were right—I shouldn’t have left you guys the way I did. I want to work things out—but the plain fact is, I’m not perfect. I can’t be perfect like you are, Ben.”
It took effort for Ben to speak and breath. “There’s no such things as perfect people,” he gasped. “And I am sorry, for pressuring you too much. You’ve grown up so much…you’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna kick some enemy-butt out there…and you don’t have to win. …I’m…proud of you.”
Chris had always wanted to hear those words: “I’m proud of you.” But not like this—not over a deathbed. Deep down, Chris knew it was too late was for Ben. Chris’ tears began to fall on Ben’s hand.
“It’s okay,” said Ben, softly. “This how I wanted it—a noble death.”
“You were fighting for Cybertron, and for Earth,” agreed Chris, tremblingly.
“And for you,” added Ben with a weak smile. “I’ll always have your back.”
“Thanks, big brother,” whispered Chris, almost inaudibly. Then, as Ben passed away, he cried bitterly. Chris didn’t know how much time passed before he stopped crying. He looked around. It was only himself, Jessica, and Springer against the fearsome thieves. Wait, now Topazor and Cheetor were here too.
Cheetor bent down beside Ben, grieved. Springer remained respectfully silent, Jessica laid a comforting hand on Chris’ shoulder, and Topazor quietly asked, “Chris, what do you want us to do? We’re at your command.”
Chris gathered up his nerves, brandished his gun, and replied stiffly, “We’re going to keep fighting. We’re gonna stay strong through the storm. Keep a steady hand,” he continued, sounding like a real leader, “and a sharp eye…and don’t lose sight of your goals. Let us fight!”