Shaky Grounds

 By: Zucca

Quickstrike dashed along the rocky wastes aimlessly, his mind fully absorbed in the memories rushing to his head. The words that familiar voice spoke re-activated specific memory sub-routines in his bio-neural waveform that regained him access to certain memories, which led to others, which led to others.

He was Maximal, of that there was no doubt. What made him side with the Predacons? Why was he acting like such a fool?

With his memories absent, all that was left was his angst and desire to prove himself. That turned to sheer aggression and kept him from being who he really was.

The reluctant Predacon came to sit on a boulder, his chin resting on his cobra hand as he thought, and thought, and thought.

“I better get my hide back to Boss-bot. Least fer’ now.” He muttered, heading back home.

Upon arriving, he was greeted to a nearly empty base. Alluvia, Felony, and Loco were there, however.

Alluvia rushed forward and gave Quickstrike a pat on the shoulder. “Quickstrike! We thought you’d been jailed!”

Loco chuckled, stepping forward and playfully punching the cobra/scorpion’s chest. “Hey there man, you flew the coop, ya’?”

Quickstrike shook his head, his shoulders slumped. “Nah. They released me fer’ good behavior.” He said.

Felony raised a brow, stepping close and running a finger down Quickstrike’s chestplate. “Is that so, sugah? I didn’t take them dirty Maximals to be the merciful sort.”

Alluvia groaned audibly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! It’s some kinda conspiracy! Megatron’s been pulling the steel wool over our eyes. Those Maximals could have hurt our ancestors anytime they wanted! What we need now is to get off this rock and make sure he can’t do anything to affect the future!”

Loco turned to her, eyebrow cocked. “You sure that’s a good idea, chica? Megadude’s lookin’ pretty buff these days…”

Quickstrike scratched his head. “What’cha’ll gruntin’ about?”

Felony gulped softly. “Megatron… has changed. Something happened to him in the Ark. He wants to go back to Cybertron and give the Maximals some kind of big surprise. A nasty one, I should think.”

Quickstrike shook his head. “Missy, I dunno what that big-bot’s been feeding you, but I jus’ found meself some intrestin’ chunks of truth ‘bout the boys’n girls on the other side of the prairie. They’s Maximals, yeah? Well I got news fer’ ya’, kiddies. So are we at the core. I dunno why, but the creepy spider bot’s shell gizmos ain’t workin’ like they oughta’. Maybe he’s got his mind on udder’ thangs and the quality ain’t top notch, but we’s all Maximals. Least us who dun remember nothin’.”

Felony shook her head. “Sugar, you got some kinda problem with the head. Have a nice cup of energon and get some rest.”

Quickstrike glared at her. “Ya’ll want proof? That tinhorn wolfy is my big bro!” As he said it, within his ‘gut’, he knew and felt it to be true, and yet it still felt strange to say it, especially to them.

Alluvia gasped, Felony narrowed her eyes, and Loco just scratched his head.

“What do you say, dude? That you an’ that nasty monsta’ are related, ya’? How’d that happen?” Loco inquired.

Alluvia looked at the others. “See? There it is! Megatron’s going to do something horrible! Rampage was right! We’ve got to defect!”

Felony snarled. “You cannot be serious! Megatron’s some kind of reborn Unicron! He’d vaporize us in an instant! He doesn’t even need us! I think he keeps us around either for company or for kicks! What in the name of the Pit can we do?”

Loco groaned. “See chica? She’s got a point. We gotta lay low, y’know?”

Alluvia glowered. “And what? Be slagged by Rampage? He’s desperate… I know he wouldn’t kill us if he weren’t enslaved…” She said slowly.

Quickstrike narrowed his eyes. “Y’don’t know that guy very well, gal. I say we throw our hats in with the Maxies.”

Felony frowned. “How do we do this then?”

Alluvia looked to each of them. “Alright… Quickstrike, go back to the Maximals. Keep in touch. We’ll meet every two days in grid Scion. We three will wait here and wait for Rampage’s instructions. If he gives us the word, we’ll give you the signal too. When that happens, get those Maximals in gear and have them converge. We’ll beat Megatron and those loyal to him at their own game.”

Felony gave Alluvia a sideways glance. “Honey, you’re in the wrong line of work… You should’ve joined the Navy or something.”

Quickstrike thought for a moment. “Uhhh… sounds good. But… won’t the Maxies try to gimme the boot?”

Loco shook his head. “Nah, from the records, they’re always welcoming Preds that wanna join.”

Felony patted Quickstrike’s shoulder. “Take care over there, y’hear me?”

Quickstrike felt his spark skip a pulse and nodded. “You got it, toots.” He said before taking a deep breath and leaving the belly of the Darkside.

Alluvia looked to all of them. “Best of luck to us all…”

Rattrap glanced up from his security screen up at Optimus. “Hey, errr… boss-monkey? I think we’d betta’ let Bolt outta his cell now..”

Optimus had just about had enough of hearing that. Everyone in the base had filed a protest against the Transmetal fuzor’s incarceration. It was peaceful protest, but it was still nearly unanimous. Surprisingly, the Predacon in their number protested most fervently, albeit, without grace.

“Waspinator thinks Silverbolt should be free! He helped save whole Maximal base when Tarantulas possessed Optimus!” Was among his long lines of spamming argument. Optimus noticed that the bug began using names more often, though he still spoke in third person. Maybe Rhinox’s medical abilities did exceed Tarantulas’s. Or maybe Tarantulas just didn’t care enough about Waspinator to do anything.

At any rate, it was not comfortable, but his command was clear.

“We’ve been over this Rattrap. He volunteered his punishment and I’m enforcing it.” Optimus replied wearily.

Rattrap shook his head. “You ain’t payin’ attention. Scan this action! We got a Pred wavin’ his arms around like a headless chicken! Looks like he’s tryin’ to get our attention.”

Optimus looked to the screen. “There aren’t other Predacon energy signatures around?”

Rattrap shook his head. “Already looked. Nothin’, nattin’, nada.”

Optimus looked at the Predacon fuzor on the screen again. It was Quickstrike. Optimus felt a pang of guilt, now knowing that Silverbolt and Quickstrike were siblings, but when he made a decision he was consistent.

“Let him in.” Optimus said. “I’ll receive him in the foyer.”

Rattrap threw the switch, shaking his head slowly. “Ya’ know, back in the olden days, soldiers stuck on their own side. Ancient hate-plague and Starscream aside, everyone knew their place. Heck, even ‘dat bolt-brain Starscream stayed with the Decepticons from what I hear. He just wanted to take over.”

Optimus sighed. “What are you trying to say, Rattrap?”

The Transmetal rat shrugged. “Just sharin’ a thought, boss-monkey.”

At that moment, Bounder walked in, grinning up at Optimus. “’Allo there you handsome bloke. What’s the latest news from ya’?”

Optimus groaned on the inside but kept a firm demeanor. “Another defector, from the looks of it.”

The blue kangaroo laughed, slapping her thigh. “Ha ha ha! Oi! How ‘bout we just open up the doors and put up a big sign saying: “Maximal tryouts, Predacons welcome!”

Optimus’ optics circled, yet another emulation picked up from transformers living side by side with humans.

“Open the doors.” Optimus said, clomping loudly to the cavernous entrance.

Rattrap sighed, leaning back into his seat. “Sometimes I wish Scalebelly was still around, just so I could rub it in his face about what a trendsetta’ he is.”

Bounder sniggered. “I’ve right mind to go start putting up pro-Maximal campaign slogans around Predacon territory.”

In his quarters, Silverbolt stirred. Something in his mind set itself into motion…

The eyes of purest gold slid open and he leaned himself up on his bunk.

“What is this feeling…?” He whispered to himself, as if to reassure himself that he was not dreaming.

His senses, hours before, were attuned to the presence of his comrades moving about the base. Now though…

“… where my bro’ is…”

“Silver… loose cannon, father’d say…”

“What’s he… almost any…”

“Serious trouble… stinking Preda…”

He clutched his head, eyes shutting. “No! Too loud! Stop talking!”

The voices ensued…

“STOP!” He howled.

Silence in his mind.

“What is happening to me…? Why can I hear them?”

The class III Transmetal Fuzor stood up, wiping coolant from his brow. “I can take little more of these cursed abilities…”

Suddenly, he sensed in his mind, a presence. Something powerful, intrusive, sheathed in a vast, indomitable will. “Then let them come and deal with them.”

“What? Who are you? Show yourself, intruder!”

“I am nowhere you can see. Nowhere you can hear. I am. What are you, Silverbolt?” The presence in his mind inquired.

“Of what do you speak?” Silverbolt asked suspiciously, wary of Tarantulas’s trickery.

“A curse you call it. You have reached a new level of existence. You are a pioneer. A leap forward. You know what I speak of. Your young friend and your lover are but shadows of what exists within you. You barely scratched the surface of your true power.”

Silverbolt frowned. “Begone, voice! I will have nothing to do with your offers of power!”

“And look where that mentality got you, Silverbolt. You allowed yourself to become weak, and that weakness allowed the Dark One to destroy you.”

Silverbolt flinched. He never even told Blackarachnia of his recurring nightmares involving his death…

“Do you know the difference between a Human and a Cybertronian?”

Silverbolt hesitated. He had spent much time in the database, reading up on history, learning about the parts of the Great War the Maximal Elders had not classified, learning of the humans and how they assisted the Autobots in the defeat of the Decepticons, and their pivotal help in annihilating the Hate-Plague.

“They are flesh and blood, we are of metal and mech-fluid. They are physically weaker, but possess a strength of will that rivals many of Cybertron’s citizens.” He said. It seemed like a good, solid answer.

“Again, you scratch the surface, Silverbolt. The difference between a Human and a Cybertronian, is that a Human has a soul, and a Cybertronian does not.”

Silverbolt frowned. “What of the Spark? When Autobots and Decepticons evolved, they learned to create Sparks which…”

“A mockery of the soul! They envied the Humans and their free will, their diverse personalities, their life-after-death! They wanted to be like humans. They even made themselves equal in size to be able to hold their Sparks and use less energon. They even went so far as to create matter-to-energy converters so they could eat like Humans! The Autobots and Decepticons had great power, yes, but the Humans charmed them so…”

Silverbolt listened, his mouth agape. “What are you saying? What does this have to do with me?”

“You, your lover, your young friend and your leader all possess something greater than a Spark.”

Silverbolt scratched his head.

“You’ve felt things, haven’t you? Known things. Ever since you Ascended. You alone, Silverbolt, possess a soul.”

Silverbolt’s eyes widened and he looked about the room in awed shock. “I do not understand! What is a soul?”

“A soul is what sets true life apart from mere machines. The Humans each have a soul. Unlike Sparks, it is not physical. It is pure energy, perfectly dispersed through the body. The body is simply a vessel for the soul.”

Silverbolt slumped to his chair, his long, silvery hair draped over the back. “I… I cannot… I am a Maxim---"

“You are Ascended, Silverbolt. Blackarachnia and Cheetor both have taken a step closer, yet Sparks, they still possess. Your nemesis, Megatron, has attained a terrible fusion of Soul and Spark. Such power he wields…But you, Silverbolt, have the greatest purity of any of your comrades.”

Silverbolt looked down at his feet, shaking his head. “I am not so pure. Constantly, I disobey Optimus.”

“A Human once wrote that it is every citizen’s right and duty to disobey a civility they know is in the wrong. Optimus means for the best, but these trying times have gotten to even his heart. He is tired and war-weary. He is an Explorer by heart. Never has he killed, never will he. But he is reaching his wits’ end.”

Silverbolt frowned. “What am I to do about it? I cannot disobey him again.”

“You are loyal to law and goodness, not to any one being. Stay true to your heart and your Soul, Silverbolt. Show Optimus that you are one of the instruments of your people’s return to Cybertron, and eventually, your people’s Ascension. It is paramount that you protect your people at any cost. When I speak of your people, I speak of ALL of them.”

“Wait! If your meaning encompasses both Maximal and Predacon, what am I to protect them from?!”

“That which is neither. That which is born of Chaos. The child of The Undoer, and the Bastard Son of Starscream.”

Silverbolt stood upright swiftly. “Who?!”

No reply.

“Voice! Speak to me!”

Nothing.

Silverbolt felt the presence slowly slip away…

“You have more power than you know. Use it not to destroy, but to protect. There is one among your people that will save you all and return you home. The Messiah. You must protect The Messiah.”

Silverbolt helplessly felt the presence vanish, leaving him alone in his room once again.

“Who are you…?” He asked softly, knowing no answer would come.

Blackarachnia entered at that moment, seeing Silverbolt awake and on his feet. “Silverbolt… what’s wrong?”

Silverbolt closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “There is nothing amiss, my love. What tidings do you bequeath me?”

Blackarachnia rolled her optics. “Optimus is letting you out of the kennel. Turns out you converted another Predacon.”

Silverbolt held his breath. “Quickstrike?”

She smiled, nodding. “None other.”

Silverbolt smiled, rushing out with her to the command center, finding the Maximals gathered around Quickstrike. The diminutive Predacon looked up at Silverbolt, crimson optics softening.

“Hey uhh… This is really kinda’ awkward… Howdy… big bro’.” Quickstrike said sheepishly.

Silverbolt looked to the Scorpion/Cobra fuzor and smiled. He walked up to him and drew his brother into an embrace. The first they shared since the fateful day the Axalon left Cybertron. Two brothers, reunited at last.

Silverbolt looked up at Optimus. “Thank you, sir. I shall return to my quarters now.”

Optimus sighed. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve decided to grant you a parole in light of your brother’s defection due to your intervention. Keep up a good record and I’ll allow you to stay free. But I’ll tell you right now, and I want all of you to bear witness to what I vow, if you jeopardize the base or any of us again, then I’ll have no choice but to put you in the brig.”

Silverbolt nodded. “I understand sir.”

“Thank you for being reasonable, Silverbolt.” Optimus said, turning to return to his quarters.

Silverbolt smiled. “And thank you for giving me another chance, sir.”

Optimus halted his march, looked over his shoulder, nodded and continued on, things obviously pressing on his mind.

Silverbolt looked to the faces of all his gathered comrades. “Well my friends, it appears we are at our strongest yet.”

Quickstrike grinned, extending his cobra-hand, hood-side up. “That’s right, partner. We’ll kick that sorry, dirt-muchin’ Megs into the next Quatricycle!”

Silverbolt recognized the gesture and clapped his knuckles against Quickstrike’s cobra-hand’s hood, a few sparks flying.

At that moment, the com screen began flashing. Rhinox rushed to it and scratched his head. “Huh… this one’s a Pred frequency.”

Silverbolt, Bounder, Thundermare and the others all gathered around.

“Whaddaya mean, big green? Don’t da’ Preds have better things to do then make prank calls?” Rattrap piped in.

Rhinox hushed his longtime friend with a gesture and turned on the speakers. “This is Maximal command, identify yourself.”

Blackarachnia looked to the signal’s energy wave, recognizing it almost right away. “No! It’s R-“

“Rampage.” Came the dark, menacing voice over the comms.

Rhinox scowled. “Unless you’re here to hand over Megatron’s terms of surrender, I’ll have to ask you to leave and get off this channel.”

“Ah, but I can offer you Megatron’s head on a silver platter.” Replied the voice of the sinister Rampage.

The Maximals glanced at eachother in disbelief. “What did you say…?” Rhinox asked…