Sky Lynx-Autobot “Extraordinary” Transport
Upper Atmosphere, Cybertron
Prefecture VII, Republic of the Sphere
April 6, 3085
“You should commit seppuku!”
Screaming into the small microphone in his hand, Captain Stahl had been driven insane by what the captain of the Bristol said.
Sitting in the center of the bridge of the transforming Buccaneer dropship, he sat behind the pilot. Most of the crew was not there. Then again, it was kind of odd to be the crew of a sentient ship especially one like Sky Lynx, or as he is registered, Lynx.
“Oh, you’d like that you, Combinephile. It amazes me that the Lyrans tolerate your Kyotians so easily. No doubt, you were placed there to be spies for the Kurita. It’s a perfect excuse, but again, Stahl, you can’t fight the contract that my employer Darius Swendson has with Interstellar Expeditions.
Drawing out his syllables, Captain Allen made what he was saying was a lecture. “Any alien artifacts brought aboard the Bristol are subject to right of first refusal by Swendson Shipping. That whatever-you’ve-got really belongs to Darius Swendson. As his representative, I know that our small research wing would like to have a crack at it.”
L. Skyler, whom Captain Junichiro Stahl always wondered why Sky Lynx loved to masquerade as, spoke up. “What a wanker.”
Allen’s voiced sounded hurt. “Really that’s the best that your pilot could do? I’ve been called many things in my life, from a stinking drunk, to a nonbeliever, to dinner, but you can do better than flying my flag pole all the time for pleasure.”
Sky Lynx’s avatar always dressed in the uniform of what appeared to be leather chaps, a heavy bomber jacket, some early era aviator cap and had the oddest twirl of a mustache that Stahl had ever seen when he was especially angry. Slurring out a word after the hologram tried to pound the control panel, which was a bit odd considering it was a part of him. It was stalled by Allen continuing.
“Don’t speak Skyler. I don’t want to tax that Avalonian brain of yours. A good Free Worlder is worth a whole RCT of you Davions. So I’ll put it in monosyllabic words for you two lovers with the collective intelligence of a ****** Lyran Social General whose daddy bought him his rank with a loan. Either let my do an examination of that artifact that you two are carrying, or you can have a long honeymoon on that dead ball of metal and killer robots.”
Allen chuckled.
“And remember you two, I want to be able to accept the invitation to the wedding, so be kinder when you call next time. Enjoy the stewing.”
The signal cut off.
Sky Lynx’ avatar got of his chair and pounded the floor. “The nerve! To insist that I am in love with another ‘mech, that’s just not cricket. Femmes have sought me out for the amazing interface that I, Sky Lynx, have provided for countless stellar cycles. They have to come in groups of five because I am that well designed and crafted!”
Junichiro Stahl really didn’t want to hear that bit of information.
“Let’s stop caring what the old drunk thinks. Are there any other options for getting this computer that . . .,” Junichiro said before getting cut off.
“It’s so much more than a mere computer that you might find at Apple Interstellar or even Doering from your own New Kyoto. I remember the time that I traveled to New Kyoto; your people thought that my robot form was part of the wildlife. It was quite amusing. However, Vector Sigma is the interface by which the AllSpark can commune to embed a spark in a protoform. Even though it is a bit of a bone to JetFire’s traditionalists and all that, Prime is smart one for ordering us to retrieve it. And might I add that Primus was wise to bestow my spark on this magnificent body.”
Stahl sighed. “Sky Lynx, do we have any other options other than Allen and the Bristol?”
The hologram twirled his mustache. “There is one last option, and considering that Shockwave is giving our boys a good old fashioned walloping, it is time to ask for help from one of Prime’s chief advisors.”
Suddenly, Cybertronian writing appeared on Stahl’s monitor. “Baka! You know I can’t understand your language.”
“No worries, it’s actually not the message. I’m merely sending the signal to the old Decepticon Space Bridge. Let’s hope that Bumblebee remembers to scan for signals in that ancient junk heap that we salvaged before the false restoration fell apart.”
Stahl was a bit confused. “False restoration? What is that?”
Sky Lynx sighed. “After the first time that we thought that Megatron had finally been defeated until that silent cur Soundwave discovered a way to revive him after he escaped from a place between worlds, we Autobots returned to Cybertron, though at the time I was a Predacon. That was also before I got this current body thanks to a truly remarkable doctor. We started to rebuild even with some Decepticons, but Prime realized that the planet was only superficially reborn.“
Sky Lynx’s screen then showed what appeared to be a large circle in orbit of one of the moons. “It seems like it’s working. Okay, the signal is sent, and if Bee is listening, we will have an alternative to having to use Swendson Shipping for getting Vector Sigma to Paradron.”
“So I’m guessing that Prime sent you to find a new home, and that was Paradron,” suggested Stahl.
Sky Lynx laughed. “No, Prime found Paradron with that giant that the Autobots salvaged. It was right before you humans had that unpleasantness between your colonies and Earth.”
“I thought that the Decepticons didn’t know where Paradron is.”
“You are always assuming things, Stahl. That will get you into trouble. No, Prime was going to invite the Decepticons, but suddenly the Waves revealed that they had revived the Emperor of Destruction himself: Megatron. The war began anew, but this time, the Autobots had a secure base to strike back from. It was a quick war considering our species. It only lasted until about the end of your Age of War.”
Sky Lynx heard a klaxon blaring, but he ignored it. “As I recall some of the Cons even helped prop up some of the early proto breakaway states, the Chesterton Trade Union believed that the Cons were going to back them up against the early Federated Suns. If the Cons had honored the deal, I doubt that you’d even see those dastardly Liaos saying that they really own Chesterton let alone the Davions.”
Stahl ignored what was being said. “What’s that alarm about?”
Sky Lynx laughed. “We are about to enter the battle. Better get Skids and Hound ready for drop. We might need to coordinate with the crew of the Omega. Since the Bristol is off limits, I need to inform them that we are trying to arrange other transport away from Cybertron.”
Near Omega
Furman was having the time of his life. His Falconer might not be the most attractive ‘mech, but it was a built for this moment. It was a moment that his mates from back in his Armed Forces of the Federated Suns days would never believe.
Even if that moment was being a lightning rod for the attackers as the crew of the Omega escape, the captain really knew that this would get him into Valhalla or whatever his religion of the Third Dawn believed. Or maybe he was supposed to be already in hell? It didn’t matter, he only went to the meeting because that sweet lover for the night had gone, and then they joined together. She went head-long into the tenets of the Third Dawn while Simon kind of got bored and went back on the mercenary trade.
All that really mattered was that he and his ‘mech helped out the crews get away to somewhere on this death world. Though in all honesty with a little bit of work, they’d probably get the scrubbers working in one of the abandoned buildings.
As the slouched forward ‘mech used the blunt trauma impact of a Heavy PPC to the stunted head of one of the scout drones, he then had a perfect shot. “Surprise!” shouted Furman as he pulled the trigger on his heavy projected particle cannon.
Suddenly the head of one of the large, tank-like ‘mechs crackled with energy, and then after the sizzle the flat headed drone with the visor with the mooneye fell over, fried. “Now that was a sharp, short lesson! Now if you would Madam Missile, I believe that it is time for some of the more slow students to get why you don’t play with fire.”
“Fine, but you owe me, Captain,” said Boom-Boom Bay. Her Yeoman had to constantly go back for whatever supplies that the Omega’s tech could load into that walking billboard called the Yeoman.
As the three scout drones around the larger drone suddenly were engulfed in the explosives launched by Michelle Bay, Simon Furman noticed something unusual happening other than the sheer amazing gunnery abilities of the Omega. If that stiff the pilot was doing it, he’d take the bloke to this amazing place that he knew on Solaris VII. The woman there could get even a slab of solid granite to crack a real smile.
No, the odd thing was the swirling nature of what appeared to a strange stellar phenomenon. There were not words for what he was seeing.
“Am I reaping the whirlwind for too many years piloting?” asked the pilot.
Then he heard a voice in his head even as his mind started to realize that he had made a rookie mistake. “Do not worry, it is merely a bit of. . . swamp gas. That is the most unbelievable reason,” said the captain of the DropShip Omega.
Suddenly Simon realized that two of the larger drones were riding on their treaded feet towards him, their heads rose up screaming some horrible scream of binary code. Furman tried to move his ‘mech, but their spinning plasma cannons were already trained on him.
He pushed his ‘mech at full throttle and tried to turn as much as possible. Simon felt the ‘mech shudder. For a second, he watched the damage on his indicator light up to red and then go black on his left arm. “Well, that arm is gone,” stammered Furman.
The problem was that he was running low on ammo, and without his heavy ppc, this fight was going to be long and probably dangerous.
“Thom, how much longer do you think that you’ll be engaged with that squad of those aerospace harpies?”
Rector and his Warhammer were fighting closer to the Omega trying to protect some anti-aircraft assets as they disembarked. Near them and several BA troopers was Boom-Boom and her Yeoman. He was about a thousand meters from the Omega, and at the moment. His best hope for support was Boom-Boom.
And then those odds went from plausible to winning the El Dorado City of Gold Lottery. Furman nearly choked when the unusual purple tank with the high speed and massive cannon with the feeder roared towards his now one-armed, slouched-forward ‘mech.
“They might have picked one of my wings, but my bird is still has her gun,” he said even as an explosion from one of Bay’s massive bombardments pushed back the two tank-like drones who had melted the left arm of his ‘mech off.
Even as he started to take shots, the tank kept dodging each shot, with its high speed not stopping it. It jumped into the air and spun around to create a unique one eyed robot with a massive cannon for one of its arms.
It nonchalantly walked up to Furman who was trying to aim with his right arm, but the purple robot’s good arm ripped off the gauss rifle, and it then proceeded to beat the sides of the Falconer with it, destroying the lasers.
“A futile effort, human. My larger question is why would fight in a one of your ‘mechs based off our design that looked so much like your g. gallus fowl? There doesn’t seem to be an advantage to the design. Perhaps it is the engine. Tankors 13 and 19, take the ‘mech and its pilot back to the shuttle for further study.”
That is when Simon noticed that the two tank drones that he had seen draw back had returned. He tried to run, but they both fired precision blasts that wiped out the legs.
The purple robot then placed a finger to the cockpit located in the center of the ‘mech. “This will be my only kindness, though it was developed by Knock-Out, who’s circuits were a bit hard fried.”
After a brief crack, Simon witnessed a rush of purple mist fill the cockpit. He felt his body harden.
Then he felt nothing.
Bridge of the Omega
Gustav Keeper was alone on the bridge of the Omega. Personnel were gone. Though he was not entirely alone as the doors to the bridge opened and out stepped DuQuense along with Spacer Carlo escorting him. The head of the mission was not distraught, but he seemed concerned.
“Gustav, you need to leave the bridge. The first three pushes worked to get most of the crew over the ridge to the fallback point. Why are you still here?”
Keeper, now in a pressure suit just like the other two, sat alone in the Omega. “I’m not totally alone. The Pilot is about. However, a captain should go down with his ship.”
Spacer Verity Carlo shook her head. “’It’s not good to throw yourself away’, as my Uncle Magnus says. DuQuense is probably your oldest friend, Captain. He’s right. It’s time to leave to leave the ‘Pilot’ to prepare for the final work that is absolutely necessary.”
DuQuense’s face curled up into a queer face. “That’s an unusual name, Magnus. You don’t appear to be from a Norse Colony World from your accent or bearing, Spacer Carlo. I’d imagine that you are mostly likely from the Capellan March around the Taurian border from the accent. However, there is something off about you.”
“Would you believe I was a war orphan from a family of lifelong FedSuns military personnel who got whacked during the Jihad, and then I was adopted by a wandering warrior who raised me?” asked catty Verity.
“You and Gus have something in common, and it seems to me that both of you have had contact with these NBEs or non-biological entities before. The question is how far back these mechanical beings’ interference goes back.”
DuQuense suddenly noticed the large pilot walk into the room. “When time began, we were created soon after. The Thirteen and other early creations of Lord Primus were the first after the battle with Unicron, the opposite of Primus. The two brothers fought across the realities created by the One. In the end, the Thirteen won the war in this reality against Unicron. However, it is never over.”
The Pilot walked to the console. Director DuQuense just looked at the man. “Is he a machine or something?”
Gustav Keeper laughed. “I thought that it was pretty obvious, but things can hide in plain sight without us realizing it. That’s the beauty of humanity in a way. Divine revelation can be shown to us, and some of us categorize it as legend or bits of myth created as a play that got misunderstood. However as much as I want to get to a point, the issue is that we want to see what fits with what we think reality is. The obvious questions to those who have cut off question is, both to the religious zealot and scientific literalist, is there anything more?”
Keeper was silent for only a moment, but then he answered the rhetorical question. “Let me tell you, there is. And as for what I’ve been doing, I’ve been helping my friend keep that horde out there from getting out of hand.”
The pilot spoke. “Irrelevant now. Captain Keeper, it would be best for you to flee. My transformation is not as advanced as younger members of my race. Gears and sockets tend to ignore sensations of smaller beings.“
“But you still need time to prepare, and we’ve done drills for this sort of situation.”
The pilot turned from his console. “This is not one of the scenarios we trained for, Captain. Sky Lynx has already asked for help from Paradron. It should arrive from the portal soon. It has been good to serve with you, Captain Keeper. However, transformation preparations are done.”
Keeper smiled. “It’s good to know that you care, old friend,” Gustav Keeper pulled down the crash harness of his captain’s chair. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Spacer Carlo already had her red helmet on her head. “Do I have to do this the hard way? Because shooting you with the tranquilizer dart and dragging you to the last VTOL is going to hurt.”
“Negative, Spacer Carlo,” the pilot said. “Captain Keeper has made his decision and will be under my protection.”
DuQuense looked at the pilot and finally put all of the clues together. “So you are a robot? What do you transform out of?”
The pilot spoke one laconic work. “Omega.”
A Moon of Cybertron
Long ago, its queen had told it to bury itself below the surface as others presented themselves as offerings for her hunger. Now her voice spoke its sweet commands.
“Soldier, your queen begs you to rise.”
Rising from the dirt the massive six-legged. beetle-like robot looked up at the night sky, the beast forms’ optics saw something long like a metal umbrella. And then the voice coming from the shadows was heard.
“Soldier, a ship has been prepared. It shall take you to the invader. Bring its core to me, it can feed my hunger forevermore. And if you succeed, you shall remain unharmed, my Ransack. Now go to the ship over the ridge.”
With a roar, Ransack rose on his wings, and he flew over the ridge. There he found a jury-rigged ship made from various parts that had landed or fallen on the moon. It was a one bot ship, and it would probably not survive a return trip. Ransack transformed into the hunch-backed form that many Insecticons had adopted after the creation of the hive mind by the Decepticon Scientist Shockwave. The Queen had another form, but she could overwhelm the hive.
As Ransack started to turn on the ship, his optics picked up movement. The song of the hive was gone, and all that he felt was terror filled roar. Or perhaps, the song had become a thirst. Regardless, Ransack was alone, and he had to complete this task to remain the last of his kind.
For he alone was the last of his kind. The rest long ago shifted into true monsters that serve an eternal queen of horrors. Despite himself, Ransack knew that he’d give himself to the Queen as well if she commanded it. For a moment in his head, he considered an alternative as the ship came to life as he pressed buttons to bring the ship alive.
He could escape to Cybertron where he was originally from. From there, he could escape possibly away from the voice of the Queen.
But he could not disobey the voice, Ransack tried, but he targeted the invader. In his spark, he wished that he had never volunteered for Shockwave’s experiments.
As the flames of the makeshift ship’s engine shot out, Ransack saw what his kind had become. The long tongue twisted about wanting what remained in him, the blood of Primus.
For a brief second, he saw the silhouette of the queens modified robot form with six wispy legs.
Ransack decided what he had to do, and it was beyond him to do so.
Sky Lynx
Hound was helped by some of the crew. Unlike ninety-nine percent of the crew on board the Omega, they were for the most part Belters or humans who knew about the Autobots. Skids was enjoying being helped into the harnesses usually used by human BattleMechs for slowing down descents.
“So are you ready, Hound?” asked Skids who smiled at a female tech.
Hound laughed. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Are you sure this device will slow us down enough? I really don’t want to have to get replacement legs. Remember when we finally found Ironhide, and he had no legs? That was because he had jumped out of a ship without any means of slowing down. He had to ride around on those treads for several cycles.”
Skids chuckled. “Really, you are worried about ending up on that tripod until they can make you new legs?”
Laughing horribly Skids didn’t at first hear the klaxons to warn the crew to get out of the bay that they were in. Vector Sigma was currently in another bay, so there was no particular worry that it would roll out to crash onto Cybertron’s surface.
“Well ‘bots, it appears that the lads need some help, and if you could draw off some of these fighter drones on my tail, I’d appreciate it.”
Skids rose. “Let’s get this started!”
Sky Lynx started to shift the orientation with a flip. That didn’t faze Skids who was prepared for this, but Hound really wished that he wasn’t with the theoretician at this point. The bot could be a bit crazy when it came to operations.
Suddenly the door to the bay opened, and Skids ran out without much fear.
Hound followed, but as he peered over the edge, his optics saw the battle. The Omega was holding over three quarters of the drones off, but it was waning. Suddenly, it dawned on Hound what was about to happen, especially since he could see the human crew seemingly making a run for it.
Finally, Hound took the plunge.
“Primus!” he screamed. The air rushed against him.
One of the drones with the swept forward wings started to shoot at him. Hound got a good look at the dark blue paintjob of a thing with a moving head.
‘Moving head, what kind of strange bot designs a drone with a movable neck like a bird?’ wondered Hound.
Pushing to the right, Hound rolled. He’d love to transform just to make his mass more like a lead weight, but the harness was preventing that little idea. Plus without the harness, he’d probably lose his legs.
As Hound tried to track the drone, he suddenly heard something. “Allons-y!”
Hound along with the drone turned their head to Skids riding another drone. Suddenly the drone that the Autobot rode shot its cannons. “Good work, Tabitha! Not let’s catch Hound, and we shall have a much easier landing.”
Skids caught Hound. Pulling the other bot onto the drone, Skids laughed. “See sometimes Primus provides better plans when we are falling down.”
Hound held onto the drone. “Are you fragmented? How did you get this drone to do what you want?”
The Autobot laughed. “That’s easy. The transmission device is a Decepticon design that I’ve played with for cycles. Personally, I’m a little ashamed that Shockwave is still using it, but then again, he probably hasn’t had new supplies in ages.”
As they started to descend into the battlefield riding some vast, predatory, robotic bird, they both saw that the DropShip had started break apart, but it wasn’t from explosions. The Fortress DropShip had, in fact, started to split and shift along previously invisible seams.
“It looks like they evacuated the crew, but do you think that will scare the Decepticon who is leading that attack?” asked Hound.
“Shockwave?” questioned Skids.
Hound looked at Skids. “How did you know it was Shockwave?”
The bot smiled. “It was a pink quadruped that had cotton candy for hair that told me. No, this drone is one of his old designs that he showed his class of student back at the University of Crystal City when I studied in cybermechanics course.”
“Primus, he is still bent on that whole enhancement of form concept of his back when he had both arms,” stated Skids.
“What do you mean?” asked Hound. The great gears of a transformation began to spin within the Omega.
Well, Shockwave did not actually agree with the concepts of the guilds, but he wanted to enhance the robotic and alternate forms of transformers to incorporate more organic concepts. Let’s just say that he probably got that from his teacher, but his experiments have caused more problems.”
Hound ignored Skids because at that moment, the sides of the Fortress class DropShip began to slide back over one-another to form what appeared two massive crescent-shaped wings. The internal structure and deck plating was revealed and shifting, as well, compressing into a more solid block with the DropShip’s fusion core at its center. The weapon blisters of the ship slid along with the deck plating, coming to rest at the four corners of the block.
At the same time, the KF Boom of the DropShip had split in half, with one part ending in a gun barrel and the other in a massive four-fingered claw, both of which attached themselves with shifted support beams to the upper corners of the core block.
Two legs had formed from various structural members, with feet that were made from the combined landing legs of the Omega. As the legs affixed themselves to the lower corners of the core block, a head formed out of the bridge, and behind the glass face-plate, blue optics started to glow. The final gears clicked and the towering Autobot rose to his feet.
The massive Autobrand at the center of the red and yellow trimmed chest indicated proudly the allegiance of the massive Autobot. With a lifting of his right arm, the robot had a laser sight appear over a group of drones.
“Advice: stand down and retreat, Decepticon. I am Omega Supreme.”
Energy built up in the massive cannon and Omega released the energy. What was left of the twenty-five drones was merely melted and twisted slag.