Overtures

  Oblivion, Starscream had come to realize, was a notorious tease.
  Not that he had actively sought the state...indeed, his entire life and subsequent afterlife had been spent trying to avoid oblivion at all costs. However, of late, he had been forced to accept the fact he wasn't as good at that task as he once thought. His betrayal of the Decepticon commander, Megatron, who had been mortally wounded in battle with his longtime nemesis and opposite number in the Autobot camp, Optimus Prime, had been what Starscream had believed to be a stroke of genius. At the time at least; when Megatron returned during his coronation, revived and rebuilt into the vastly more powerful Galvatron, Starscream had very nearly embraced the concept of non-being while on the receiving end of Galvatron's vengeance. Oddly enough, however, he lingered on; so much time spent in self-preservational activities had apparently enabled him to resist deactivation itself.
  Or maybe it was what the fleshlings had termed "dumb luck."
  That was Starscream's guess.
  His quest for resurrection had led from an ill-fated partnership with the Decepticon exile, Octane, to a barter with another not-quite deactivated sentient: the world-eater, Unicron. The fallen dark (Starscream hesitated to use the word, no matter how appropriate) god had given him three tasks...his ability to possess his fellow Cybertronians had enabled him to complete the first two within reason, but the final task, attaching Unicron's head to Cybertron itself, had hit a snag when he'd run out of bodies to possess. In another stroke of then-assumed genius, he convinced Unicron to restore him to life so he could finish the work himself; only to abandon the weakened head after he was restored. A subsequent explosion, however, hurled him far out into space...where he once again encountered an enraged Galvatron who promptly blew a hole in Starscream's newly restored chest large enough to fit both fists through. He knew this was fact, even; he'd done it several times himself for amusement as he drifted through space.
  How long had he been out here..? He lost track long ago, having realized that, now that he sought oblivion, it would not come; Unicron builds his minions to last, apparently. For all he knew, he WAS as the humans call "dead," and this was what awaited him upon returning to the Matrix...an eternity of pain and insanity, forever isolated from anyone he could manipulate. The followers of Primus, many of them Autobots but also a handful of Decepticons Starscream knew of, had a word for this: they called it the Null...complete obsolescence of the core program, left to compute its own imperfections until The Day When All Are One, where it would be judged and either upgraded and reappointed to its next task or data-wiped and scrapped. He doubted this was the case, though...he'd encountered the occasional curious stardweller or passing ship, and he still refused to believe that such imperfect organic trash would be allowed within the Matrix, even into the corner of it set aside for his own personal Null.
  Still, when the thought occurred to him, he still had to smile: he, who had bartered with the closest thing his kind had to the Devil, Unicron itself, to save his alloy hide, was now praying to a "deity" he didn't even believe in for death, pleading for Primus to claim His lost descendant and end his suffering. The smile would then turn to giggles, then onward to laughter, then insane shrieks...until once again Starscream screamed at the stars around him.
  They, as usual, ignored him.

****************

  Timeless time passed, as it always had seemed to, when Starscream noticed something...odd.
  He was being pulled.
  Slowly, so slow he barely noticed at first, but with rising velocity, Starscream was moving through space. He could feel the growing tug on his metal skin, his sensors, even in their weakened state, could detect the gravity upon him. When the tug increased past planetary norms, however, he cast out with what few long-range sensors he had left.
  ...and saw nothing. No stars, no planets, not even asteroids. Just a big blot of emptiness in the middle of space.
  And it was sucking him in like he was the universe's largest energon treat.
  Here was oblivion itself, reaching out, as he had so fervently wished, to claim him at last...and in an instant, his old self-preservation instincts kicked in full force. He rerouted internal power to his thrusters and pulled against the eager bonds of gravity; he even transformed to his sleeker jet mode, hoping that its smaller profile would give the ravenous nothingness less to hold onto.
It was all for naught, however...he continued, now tail-first, into the blackness that was beyond black, into a hungry maw that humbled the insatiable appetite of even Unicron itself. He screamed as he felt his fuselage crumple and stretch, felt the molecules, the very atoms of his body be plucked one by one in rapid succession and vanish. This was the Null itself, and nothing Starscream could do would prevent it from sating itself upon his very being.
  In typical fashion, Starscream's last thought before leaving the universe was, "I don't want to diieeeee..!"
  The irony was lost on him...then he was no more.

****************

  Speedway's tires squealed on the metal floors of the hallway, the rubberized elasteel alloy scrambling for purchase as he burned around the corner at full speed. A few fueltank-churning seconds passed before the treads regained their grip and he lurched forward, swerving madly to correct himself from slamming into the walls and a couple of passing Autobots.
  "...‘scuse me, pardon me, oh MAN, I'm dead, I'm glitchin' DEAD, I'm so late, Hardhat's gonna SLAG me..." His steady monologue mingled with his revving engine as he barreled down the corridor to the medatorium, just a few fuelpump-stopping turns ahead. He checked his internal chronometer...only a few minutes late, but it may as well be a few VORNS as far as the grim-faced Captain of the Watch would be concerned. Speedway risked shunting his sensors to long-range to scan for Hardhat, but had to switch back before he could get a reading to avoid colliding with a passing maintenance droid. Maybe he won't be there, maybe he'll be busy flaying some other warrior...Speedway's unspoken hopes quickly crashed as he rounded the last corner and saw the massive orange-and-slate-grey form of Hardhat standing by the medatorium portal, his huge arms crossed over his slab-like chest as he glowered balefully at the younger Autobot.
  Speedway swallowed hard (a human gesture he'd picked up) and steeled himself mentally as he hit his brakes. Fishtailing into a bootlegger's turn, he quickly transformed to his humanoid body mid-spin and pivoted into a smart salute.
  "Autobot warrior Speedway reporting for duty, SIR."
  Hardhat stared at him, the standard blue of his optics glowing darkly with barely restrained anger from under the visor of his namesake. He said nothing for several moments, just glared down at the smaller ‘bot before him as Speedway summoned every last bit of training and discipline he had to keep his knees from buckling under the weight of that stare.
  After stewing his subordinate in his own juices for what he felt was long enough, Hardhat "exhaled," then, in a level voice, snarled, "And what is the reason THIS time..?"
  Speedway's mouth opened and closed uselessly as the gravelly bass-of-doom voice resonated down his spine. Swallowing again, he found his own voice and replied, "I was...at the commissary, SIR." He winced inside at how pitiful his voice sounded in comparison, secretly hoping that he didn't hear it crack when he said "SIR."
  Hardhat's expression didn't change, except possibly to get even darker. "Doing..?"
  "Um, refueling, SIR."
  "I see...and this wasn't done BEFORE your shift because..?"
  "I, uh, was at the, um, the tracks, SIR."
  "Ah...let me guess. Racing with the other hot-rodders...am I close..?"
  Speedway nodded dumbly, the realization of exactly HOW slagged he was going to be sinking in rapidly. Suddenly faced with his certain destruction, he spoke quickly, his words almost seemed to blur into each other. "Heater and RushHour didn't think I could beat them in the obstacle course, and they said that I was a lemon who stalled during startup, so I had to show them I was still the fastest, and I lost track of time and I'm really sorry, sir, I mean I didn't..."
  "SHUT...UP." Hardhat said, each word sounding like the bolt of a slugthrower being cocked.
  Speedway blanched, his mouth snapping shut with an audible *click!*
  Hardhat spoke, slowly at first, but his voice and the speed of his words beagan to rise in direct proportion to his anger. "So...am I correct in assuming that you find proving yourself to a pair of VAPOR-LOCKED CHROMEHEADS more important than your SWORN DUTY to the Autobot CAUSE? Is this a correct ASSUMPTION?" Speedway shook his head, futilely opening his mouth to try and explain, but Hardhat was beyond listening, though. "I give you what may well be THE MOST IMPORTANT ASSIGNMENT IN THIS GUARD AND YOU SHINE IT OFF TO GO JOYRIDING? IS THAT WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO TELL ME? THAT THE STROKING OF YOUR EGO IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN GUARDING THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN THE ENTIRE AUTOBOT CAUSE..? I OUGHTTA STRIP YOU OF ALL DUTIES AND SEND YOU BACK TO THE WASTE PROCESSING FACILITIES, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR AN AUTOBOT! GLITCH IT, I OUGHTTA RIP OFF YOUR TIRES AND TOSS ‘EM INTO THE RECYCLER, LET YOU SCRAPE AROUND ON YER RIMS FOR A WHILE, ‘CAUSE THAT'S WHAT'LL HAPPEN TO US ALL IF THE GLITCHIN' ‘CONS GET AHOLD OF..."
  "Captain Hardhat...that will be enough."
  Hardhat's tirade snapped off mid-sentence, and, to his credit, he only flared angrily at the interruption for a pumpbeat until he sighted the source of the voice.
  Alpha stepped through the medatorium portal, frowning deeply at the massive Captain of the Guard as she approached them both. Even though she was slightly smaller in stature than the shaken Speedway, however, Hardhat snapped to brisk attention. "My apologies, Sage Alpha, I was merely disciplining an insubordinate Autobot who neglected his duties."
  A smirk curled the corner of Alpha's mouth. "Yes, I know...I think the whole Autobase knows now, for that matter..."
  "My apologies again, Sage Alpha. I..."
  "And what was the lad's duty, pray tell..?" Alpha interrupted, leaning forward and taking a good look at Speedway.
   "He was assigned to guard you and the Matrix this afternoon and he was late."
  Alpha snorted. "I still say this is a waste of a perfectly good Autobot's afternoon. The Matrix can protect itself well enough as is...as can I"
  Hardhat a;,ost seemed to take offence at that. "With all due respect, Sage Alpha, it's my duty to make sure that it doesn't have to."
  Alpha snorted again irritatedly, turning back to Speedway."And I believe that you got your point through to him, Captain. Now, if you will excuse us..."
  Realizing he was being dismissed, Hardhat snapped off a smart salute, then turned to Speedway and fixed him with a baleful stare. "We'll continue this discussion later."
  Speedway swallowed and saluted. "Yessir."
  Hardhat fixed him with another glare, then turned and strode off down the hallway. Speedway relaxed somewhat, exhaling a "breath" he didn't know he was holding.
   Alpha watched him, then chuckled. "He's a bitter bit of fuel to process, but he truly only has your best interests at heart, you know..."
  The sound of Alpha's voice brought him back to attention. "I'm sorry, I meant no disrespect to my command-"
  Alpha placed a hand on his, smiling wryly. "Enough, lad...I may be an Autobot of some rank, but I have no need for all that military nonsense the Captain of the Guard seems so fond of. Are we both clear on this?"
  Speedway nodded, relaxing slightly. "Crystal-clear, ma'am. I'm sorry for my lateness..."
  "Not a word. THAT was already dealt with before I showed up...in fact, it made you even later, which is why I came to investigate." She smirked again. "Hardhat doesn't seem to realize little things like that, I noticed..."
  Speedway had to fight back a laugh, which made Alpha grin even broader."So...where was it you wanted to go, Sage Alpha?"
  She pondered for a moment, her optics glittering with mirth. "You mentioned the racetracks to Captain Hardhat...you spend a lot of time there, do you not?"
  Speedway nodded. "Yes, ma'am. It's...my favorite place to hang."
  "‘Hang?'" Alpha laughed. "Tell me...many of your friends are human...am I correct?"
  Speedway nodded, almost embarrassed for some reason. "Um...yes, ma'am..."
  Alpha's smirk returned. "I can tell...you have many of their expressions and gestures down pat, almost instinctive even." Her smile broadened a little, and her optics seemed to lose focus slightly as she added, almost wistfully, "I remember when we first awakened, about fifteen local revolutions ago. Humans and Autobots feared one another, and we had to change the appearance of our alternate forms to avoid detection. It still amazes me to think how close we came to destroying one another before we finally united against the common Decepticon threat...and now, sometimes, it almost seems as if each race was meant to find the other." She grinned at Speedway. "The Matrix works in mysterious ways, eh?"
  Speedway nodded politely, not entirely following her meaning. "As far as I knew, humans and the Autobot cause were naturals for one another, but, I admit, I was only reactivated a few years ago."
  "You would've enjoyed it, lad...they were wild, exciting times, full of danger." Alpha grinned again, and, for a moment, he saw a glimpse of the warrior she had been before being given the Matrix to keep. Then, she looked away, seeming for a moment, almost sad. "I only wish Omega had been able to see this age he helped bring about. He'd have been so...happy..." She mused a moment longer, then nodded decisively. "Yes...that's where I'd like to go. The racetracks."She grinned at Speedway again, snapping out of her melancholy. "I want to see where you newer models go to, ahem, ‘hang.'"
  Speedway blanched slightly. "Ummm...are you sure that's such a good idea, Sage Alpha..?"
  Alpha raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Afraid this old ‘bot is going to cramp your style, lad? You forget...before I was designated Keeper of the Matrix and Sage to the Autobot cause, I was one of the fastest of my generation, too," With that, her form shifted and folded, transforming her into the semblance of a vintage ‘80's model Alpha Romeo sports car. Her engine rumbling like a caged jungle cat, she revved loudy and laughed, "C'mon, slowpoke...race you to the tracks!" With a shriek of rubber on metal, she peeled away down the corridor, leaving a stunned Speedway in her wake.
  Speedway gaped, startled, then grinned broadly. "You're ON, ma'am..." and transformed into his own sleek race car mode before, with a squealing of tires, sped off after her, almost careening into another startled maintenance droid as he did.

****************

  "Anomaly has been sighted again...point two-two-nine degrees starboard of previous occurrence."
  High Five tightbeam-transmitted the data probe report, then banked off to the right, his directional verniers glowing pale blue in the inky stellar blackness around him. Sighting a nearby asteroid chunk large enough to support him, he transformed to his humanoid form and landed, crouching and toggling his sensor-baffles almost instinctively. Stealth and secrecy were his watchwords, and, even in light of his new allegiances, his old programming sometimes was hard to ignore.
  He looked down again at the Autobot emblem upon his chest, still polished to a high sheen; he'd worn it with pride ever since undergoing the Rite of the Autobrand, but he sometimes still was startled to see it and not the indigo of the Decepticon sigil he'd worn for so long. It was something he'd contemplated many times in meditation, this instinctive identification with his former comrades...but he'd made his choice, after much thought and sacrifice, and defected to the Autobot cause. His reasons were his own, and he shared them with none, but sometimes...
  The warning flash of his sensor array snapped him back to the present. Mentally cursing his introspective nature, he hunkered lower, silently drawing his tekbow and nocking a gyroshaft at the ready.
  Moments later, the very blackness before him seemed to bend in his sensorpath, twisting in a quickening spiral before being rent asunder, disgorging its contents and resealing.
  High Five's optics narrowed as he marked three arrivals, their own indigo emblems identifying   them as Decepticons even as they transformed from their fighter-jet modes and got into standard defensive stances. One opened his chest canopy, and a smaller shape leaped out. It paused, its eight metallic legs almost pawing at the vacuum before it began to expand, its size doubling, then doubling again thrice more at it transformed from spider into its humanoid mode.
  Tentacus. High Five's fuel chilled at the sight of the cowled Decepticon that now "stood" hovering in space before the others, his arms crossed over his chest before, in a cultured and well-modulated voice, he ordered, "Secure the perimeter and set up the relay scanner."
  High Five drew his gyroshaft back and paused, tense, mentally invoking Primus that his sensor-baffles would protect him as the three warriors did a quick reconnoiter of the immediate area. He relaxed slightly when they returned to Tentacus without sighting him, but he kept his weapon trained upon them nevertheless.
  The Decepticon lieutenant watched almost disinterestedly as the three warriors quickly assembled the relay scanner, his glowing red optics often looking off in various directions, constantly checking for anything out of the ordinary; he was the head of intelligence, second in command to the Decepticons, and he'd be Nulled before he'd let anyone get within range of his sensors undetected.
  High Five smiled to himself, for he'd learned all he knew from Tentacus, been the cowled ‘con's own protege before his defection. He couldn't help but wonder if his former commander would be proud of his skills now...
  Once the scanner was assembled and its own sensor-baffles activated, the warriors "stood" at attention and awaited further commands. Tentacus ignored them for a moment, his optics seeming to focus on some point off in the distance; moments later, High Five's own sensor array pinged as the anomaly he'd been sent to track in the first place manifested again, shifting through the electromagnetic spectrum before erupting in a brilliant flash of multi-frequency fireworks. Point four-three-seven degrees furthur to starboard, he noted mentally.
  The Decepticon relay flickered in response, a small pocket tear in spacetime opening long enough for the data to be transmitted before resealing. High Five grinned; wasteful, but effective, the relay's broadcasts were undetectable as anything other than minute ripples in space, and those were easily masked by the anomaly's own odd signature. The perfect peephole into the Autobot's backyard and it would've never been detected had he not volunteered for this survey mission to get off-planet and stretch his wings a bit. Sometimes fortune favors the foolish, so the old human saying went...
  Satisfied, Tentacus nodded to his warriors who immediately transformed back into their jet modes; giving the site one last baleful sweep of his scanners, he transformed into his spider-form and, shrinking, flew back into the open canopy of one of the warriors. Once again, the warphole effect twisted open and the jets bolted through.
  Once they were gone, High Five moved carefully to the relay, his own sensors keeping him out of the relay's security scanners. It would be so easy, he thought, to break this thing, but it would be far better to steal it instead...or at least copy its tech for the ‘bots back in the science division to come up with a counter-measure for it.
  Switching to active scan, he tightbeamed the info on the relay back to Autobase (along with the last anomaly survey), but, as he turned to leave, he felt the distortion in his sensors. He spun, all systems on full alert as another warphole opened around him. He had time to scream before his universe was twisted inside out...
  ...and he struck hard metal floor. Twisting in his landing, he snapped into a battle crouch...and found himself face-to-barrel with a good dozen drawn Decepticon blasters. He mentally began marking the position of them all when a massive figure emerged from the shadows. Towering over all the ‘cons present, his gold-and-blood-red finish glinting in the light of the chamber, as did the indigo of his sigil. A low bass rumble echoed through the room, and it took a moment for High Five to recognize it as laughter.
  Astroider, supreme commander of the Decepticon forces, smiled down at him."So...the Judas returns to us. How...fortunate..."
  Optics narrowing, High Five fought back the sinking feeling in his fueltank. So, he thought as Astroider's laughter echoed from the other ‘cons present, THIS is what a mouse in a room full of cats feels like...

To Be Continued...
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