6.May.06

Star Struck 

By: Ashana

      When the war took a pause in its destruction, when the shells stopped flying, the bombs stopped ticking, the sky grow clear. When the ship would stop shaking, and the debris stop flying, and the CR chambers hum to business, he would think of her.

      Sitting away from the others, away from the hardened warriors and demanding commands, he would look towards the sun, the moon, the stars, and think. A day, a week, a month, a year. Had it really been that long? He could still feel the touch of her fingers on his cheek, of her skin beneath his hands. He could see her armor, silver and red and gold and green and blue and every other color of the galaxy. Her optics, deep in love, her spark, beating in excitement.

      Oh Primus save her spark! Save her from the war that surely now tore at their planet! Save her from the cruel death of an electromagnet shell! A whistling missile! Save her from a cruel death at the hands of the enemy, at the hands of those they were fighting!

      A desperate cry escaped his lips as the thoughts of her marvelous body, mangled, torn, bleeding, entered his thoughts. Oh Primus, take me before her! He pleaded, spark beating terribly.

      He turned his mind away from these plaguing thoughts, to the better times. Walking along the beach of Hybridia’s largest ocean during the late summer. Watching the colors turn from greens to oranges, reds, yellows on organic planets. Swimming in lakes of energon, dancing at the night clubs of Cyber City, drinking Winter Shots at the yearly New Years party.

      He met her there. Three years before the mission, he met her, dancing among the others at the little organic-based club near his office. She had danced, and had entranced him, pulling him into the wild pulse of the night. They agreed to meet, and every time they did, the pull between them became stronger.

      And he had proposed. A year, a year exactly, at the same club, to the same song, in the same spot: the center of the dance club. And she had accepted.

      Oh Primus, he thought sadly, she surely thinks I’m dead by now.

      He pulled himself out of the brooding thoughts, surfacing into memories of their honeymoon. The Hybridian Sea; her first trip off of Cybertron. Oh how gloriously her optics had shined as they approached the organic planet, as they landed and were swept away by the sounds, the smell, the life.

      And they had loved, on the beach that night, they had expressed the bond they each felt so deeply for one another. They had kissed and touched and loved and cried each unto the other, until they were one and the same.

      The days after, filled with laughter, and love, and more life than they had ever seen. Birds created rainbows of color as they walked along the beach. Butterflies adorned their limbs as they rested in the shade of large trees. Moonlight bathed their faces as they loved each other.

      But soon, too soon it seemed, they were back on Cybertron, back to their jobs. Nights were spent giving or receiving massages, watching the local news, kissing and loving and trying to press their sparks into one. And the weekends were spent traveling, going out among the other couples, double dating with coworkers and dancing at the clubs.

      Then the call had come; the need for one more on the crew. And he had gone to his commander and joined his teammates, but not before comforting her, holding her, keeping her safe within his arms. Promising to keep stay safe, to come back one day and hold her in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in her receptors and caressing her body with his gentle touch. He promised that it would not be long; he promised that he would be back soon.

      Primus save his spark! Such desperate memories, such terrible thoughts, such a worthless promise! That conflict! That conflict that tore at his spark, that destroyed his whole being, that turned his thoughts from love to war! Oh what he wouldn’t give to be in her arms again, to love, to caress her gentle curves and feel her spark beat against his own!

      A harsh noise, unnatural in this paradise of silence, breaks through his thoughts. Static, and behind it, a voice. He must return to his post. One last look, one last thought, one last fleeting memory of her face, and he leaves the moon—and his memories—in peace, away from the war.

      But the next time the war takes a pause in its destruction, when the shells stopped flying, the bombs stopped ticking, the sky grow clear. When the ship would stop shaking, and the debris stop flying, and the CR chambers hum to business, he will think of her.

~fin~