Fic: Tipping Point 10/?
TITLE: Tipping Point, part 10
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
Soundwave floated in space, staring at his home world. Cybertron was as barren and dead as he remembered it. Nothing seemed to move, but he was too far away to make out details anyway. Where once lights had indicated sprawling cities there were only blackened patches of burned and molten metal. The war had destroyed the surface, but underneath the survivors still tried to make a living. There were few. Too many had fallen in battle or had fled after the Allspark’s disappearance. Hope was still there, but it was weak at best. Millennia had passed and nothing had ever been heard of Optimus Prime or Megatron.
“Now what?”
He turned to look at Skywarp, whose expression was misgiving, almost insolent. Soundwave had no answer to the question. In all his calculations he had given the risk of a reality shift little to no attention. Space bridge technology was dangerous, but nothing of the like had ever happened before. Then again, not even the ancient Cybertronians had tried to move a planet.
It had been desperation, he knew. Desperation and a hope that ran through even him. He wanted his home planet to live.
“We’ve got the planet, but we can’t get there,” Skywarp went on. “Or was that your plan?” he challenged.
Soundwave felt his symbiotes shift with anger at the tone Skywarp was using. He sent them an order to stand down.
“The situation has changed,” he only said. “We will regroup and analyze our position.”
With that he transformed and sent a signal to his troops to follow him to their temporary base deep within the Kuiper belt.
Skywarp glowered after him. “Regroup my aft! You failed!”
He transformed and shot off into a different direction, soon joined by Thundercracker. It was time to seek out their wing leader. If Starscream was still anywhere around, watching and waiting for his chance to kick Soundwave off his pedestal, they would find him. Soundwave had had his chance; he hadn’t used it.
Two more Seekers joined him, but the rest had rejoined Soundwave. It didn’t matter.
* * *
Mike Bowman and his crew had been aboard the Ark several times before, but never for a longer stay. Like Kyle Walker and his team they had only ever played shuttle for the mechs and supplies. So it was new for them to actually move into what doubled as quarters for the only organics on the space station. It was Long Haul who had led them to what had probably once been a room for a mech and was easily large enough to house eight humans.
“Anyone bring a change of underwear?” Barbara Tanner joked.
The others grinned or laughed.
“We’re here until the ships are looked at and refueled,” Walker reminded them. “Get some rest, sleep, doze, eat, whatever. We’ll be off back to Earth the moment we have clearance.”
Everyone nodded and the two commanders left their teams. Bowman glanced at Walker and saw the same mixture of tiredness, adrenaline and worry.
“First battle?” he asked casually.
“First space battle against alien mechs,” Walker answered. “You?”
“Yeah.”
It felt strange. Scary and exhilarating. Weird and yet so familiar. Their basic training had been as military pilots; in Walker’s case as an astronaut. Bowman had flown fighters, but never in space. This had been very, very new - and they had survived.
“I want to check in with Scrapper, see what’s going on,” Kyle told him.
“Yeah. Same here.”
Both men set out toward the bridge. Bowman felt WiFi transform and then the Nokia climbed onto his shoulder, warbling a little. He smiled at his companion.
* * *
Barricade was a silent shadow lurking at the edge of the Ark’s command center. Since the last time he had seen the Autobot ship up close and personal a lot had changed. The bridge had turned into a gigantic room that spoke of the Ark’s new function as a space station. It had gained in height and depth, and several adjoining rooms had been included.
The main screen was currently showing the remote satellite images of the Kuiper belt. Cybertron was clearly visible, though the reality bubble was obscuring it more and more. Like looking through a stained window, he mused.
The Decepticons had retreated and there hadn’t been a blip out of them. SI satellites and Blaster’s symbiotes were scanning ceaselessly for enemy signals, but Soundwave was too good to be detected by such simple means.
Soft steps announced the arrival of his partner and Barricade briefly glanced at the almost fully repaired silver Autobot. Like himself Jazz had received mostly superficial damage and it had looked worse than it had actually been.
“Homesick?” Jazz asked, voice low.
There was no teasing there. His tone of voice was serious, almost longing.
Barricade didn’t answer, simply turned back to looking at his home world. This was where his spark had been activated; this was where he had served the Lord Protector and the Prime; this was what Megatron had destroyed in the end.
“It’s no longer the Cybertron we knew,” he finally said.
“Yeah,” Jazz murmured after a moment. “But then again, it’s Cybertron. If there’s a chance…”
“Cybertron died, Jazz,” Barricade said, voice brutally hard. “What we see here is the dead husk of our home.”
“One we might bring back to life!”
Red optics flared briefly, then Barricade hissed. “Hope runs eternal in you Autobots.”
Jazz tilted his head a little. “Hope is what kept us going, Cade. All that time, throughout the war, it was what had us holding on.”
The former Decepticon shifted uneasily. A silver claw traced over his armor. He tried to ignore it, but he had gotten too used to the close contact not to enjoy it.
Someone else stepped into the control room and Barricade tensed briefly, then slunk a little further with his back against the wall as Perceptor entered, followed by Hook and Scrapper. The Autobot scientist only nodded at Jazz, then turned to a work station, calling up what looked like scientific formulas. Hook joined him, both of them conversing softly, while Scrapper stopped next to Jazz.
“You should be recharging,” the Constructicon leader remarked.
“We’re fine,” Jazz answered. “How are repairs coming along?”
“The Ghost-2 is already preparing for launch to return to Earth in three hours. The crew is fine. Prowl is keeping an optic on the process of the Spook.”
Jazz nodded. Prowl, Sideswipe and Jolt would fly back to Cybertron, or as close as they could safely get, and keep watch. They would also be looking for Decepticon presence.
“The Ghost-3 is refueling and the crew is currently sleeping,” Scrapper finished.
Jazz glanced over at Perceptor and Hook. “Any success so far?”
“No. A lot of theories, no solutions. Nothing like this has ever happened before,” the Constructicon leader answered slowly. “In theory it was possible, like so many things are. No one ever thought of actually moving a whole planet - until now.” His optics flared a little. “Soundwave was out of his mind to try this. It could have destroyed Cybertron, and it still might.”
Barricade rumbled softly.
Jazz just looked at the screen, before turning away. He felt homesick, in a way. Here was his home and they had no way to access the planet. Even if Cybertron was just a dead shell, it was now closer than in the past millennia.
“We’ll try to find a way to access Cybertron,” Scrapper interrupted his thoughts.
Jazz nodded. “Hopefully not too late.”
No one knew what the reality bubble was doing to the metal world. Perceptor had already listed several worst cases, all of them ending with the destruction of their world.
::Let’s go:: Barricade sent gruffly.
Jazz followed the shock-trooper through the station until they reached what doubled as personal quarters for the time they were here. He locked the door behind them and turned to his bonded. In the semi-darkness the optics glowed a deep red. Jazz placed a hand against Barricade’s spark chamber and felt an answering pulse. He smiled slightly and stepped closer, opening up.
Barricade rumbled softly and completed the connection.
* * *
Out of the dozen possible and even impossible scenarios, Cybertron trapped in a reality bubble hadn’t really come up. Tony Stark sat in his workshop, the holographic image of the homeworld of the mechs floating three-dimensionally in the middle of the projector. He gazed at it with a thoughtful expression.
Reality bubbles. It sounded like some old science fiction cliché. He might have to get Jarvis to look into that, just for fun and useless reference points. Someone had probably thought of it in Star Trek or Stargate, whatever incarnation of each series. Now it was real and it had affected a very real world.
Calling up the scans made by his own satellites and those by the Spook he read over them again and again. There was hardly any useable data. At least when it came to cold hard facts like consistency of the field, elements contained in it, radiation, etc. etc. and etc. Reality meant nothing when it came to the readings. Everything was either non-existent or twisted out of proportion.
Tony had talked to both Hook and Perceptor and both scientists had agreed that nothing they had on the field was actually helpful. They were relying on old texts, theories and dabbling from long-dead scientists into the world of space bridge technology.
“What a mess,” he murmured and switched off the projection.
Jarvis was as useless as anyone in that matter and if there was something anyone could do, it hadn’t been unearthed yet.
Hook had mentioned that the most useful information on space bridges and their effects on both the object transported and the surrounding space continuum was probably in the ancient archives - which were on Cybertron.
The archives on Cybertron were extensive and they were a place Tony would love to see one day. Scavenger had told him about them in past meetings, when they had just talked, and Perceptor had mentioned them now and again. One could get lost in the vast hall containing countless disks, scrolls, data crystals, and whatever the mechs of old and recent times had used to store data and images. A library was situated deep inside the planet, several levels down, spreading over miles. Tony could almost imagine it all, seeing the city of Skrim sitting above the entrance, the hallowed doorway into a world of knowledge. Skrim had been the city of scholars and archivists, of many, many scientists of all fields of expertise.
Skrim had been one of the earliest victims of the war. It was ruined, but the archives had survived. No one had been down there in millennia, though. Now would be a good time to go looking for a solution and no one could.
“What if someone tried to jump onto Cybertron using space bridge technology?” Tony had asked, the idea popping up in his head.
“Cybertron is surrounded by a reality bubble,” had been Hook’s condescending answer, the Constructicon looking at him like he was a stupid drone. “Nothing we know fits any more. The planet isn’t real. It’s a figment right now.”
And that was that idea. If someone actually tried -- and Scavenger had told Tony that if that someone was him, he would come and find his remains and kill him for the stunt -- the attempt wouldn’t be very successful. The space bridge portal had nowhere to connect to.
“Our objective reality concept no longer correlates with the sensed reality,” Perceptor had tried to clarify, making it even more sci-fi heavy than before. “We see something, but it’s not really there. Cybertron would influence the space around it, but it doesn’t.”
Like a projection, Tony thought.
And that was all it was. A projection that was both real and unreal. It was there, but not there.
And it was the source of headaches.
tbc...
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
BETA: okami_myrrhibis
Soundwave floated in space, staring at his home world. Cybertron was as barren and dead as he remembered it. Nothing seemed to move, but he was too far away to make out details anyway. Where once lights had indicated sprawling cities there were only blackened patches of burned and molten metal. The war had destroyed the surface, but underneath the survivors still tried to make a living. There were few. Too many had fallen in battle or had fled after the Allspark’s disappearance. Hope was still there, but it was weak at best. Millennia had passed and nothing had ever been heard of Optimus Prime or Megatron.
“Now what?”
He turned to look at Skywarp, whose expression was misgiving, almost insolent. Soundwave had no answer to the question. In all his calculations he had given the risk of a reality shift little to no attention. Space bridge technology was dangerous, but nothing of the like had ever happened before. Then again, not even the ancient Cybertronians had tried to move a planet.
It had been desperation, he knew. Desperation and a hope that ran through even him. He wanted his home planet to live.
“We’ve got the planet, but we can’t get there,” Skywarp went on. “Or was that your plan?” he challenged.
Soundwave felt his symbiotes shift with anger at the tone Skywarp was using. He sent them an order to stand down.
“The situation has changed,” he only said. “We will regroup and analyze our position.”
With that he transformed and sent a signal to his troops to follow him to their temporary base deep within the Kuiper belt.
Skywarp glowered after him. “Regroup my aft! You failed!”
He transformed and shot off into a different direction, soon joined by Thundercracker. It was time to seek out their wing leader. If Starscream was still anywhere around, watching and waiting for his chance to kick Soundwave off his pedestal, they would find him. Soundwave had had his chance; he hadn’t used it.
Two more Seekers joined him, but the rest had rejoined Soundwave. It didn’t matter.
* * *
Mike Bowman and his crew had been aboard the Ark several times before, but never for a longer stay. Like Kyle Walker and his team they had only ever played shuttle for the mechs and supplies. So it was new for them to actually move into what doubled as quarters for the only organics on the space station. It was Long Haul who had led them to what had probably once been a room for a mech and was easily large enough to house eight humans.
“Anyone bring a change of underwear?” Barbara Tanner joked.
The others grinned or laughed.
“We’re here until the ships are looked at and refueled,” Walker reminded them. “Get some rest, sleep, doze, eat, whatever. We’ll be off back to Earth the moment we have clearance.”
Everyone nodded and the two commanders left their teams. Bowman glanced at Walker and saw the same mixture of tiredness, adrenaline and worry.
“First battle?” he asked casually.
“First space battle against alien mechs,” Walker answered. “You?”
“Yeah.”
It felt strange. Scary and exhilarating. Weird and yet so familiar. Their basic training had been as military pilots; in Walker’s case as an astronaut. Bowman had flown fighters, but never in space. This had been very, very new - and they had survived.
“I want to check in with Scrapper, see what’s going on,” Kyle told him.
“Yeah. Same here.”
Both men set out toward the bridge. Bowman felt WiFi transform and then the Nokia climbed onto his shoulder, warbling a little. He smiled at his companion.
* * *
Barricade was a silent shadow lurking at the edge of the Ark’s command center. Since the last time he had seen the Autobot ship up close and personal a lot had changed. The bridge had turned into a gigantic room that spoke of the Ark’s new function as a space station. It had gained in height and depth, and several adjoining rooms had been included.
The main screen was currently showing the remote satellite images of the Kuiper belt. Cybertron was clearly visible, though the reality bubble was obscuring it more and more. Like looking through a stained window, he mused.
The Decepticons had retreated and there hadn’t been a blip out of them. SI satellites and Blaster’s symbiotes were scanning ceaselessly for enemy signals, but Soundwave was too good to be detected by such simple means.
Soft steps announced the arrival of his partner and Barricade briefly glanced at the almost fully repaired silver Autobot. Like himself Jazz had received mostly superficial damage and it had looked worse than it had actually been.
“Homesick?” Jazz asked, voice low.
There was no teasing there. His tone of voice was serious, almost longing.
Barricade didn’t answer, simply turned back to looking at his home world. This was where his spark had been activated; this was where he had served the Lord Protector and the Prime; this was what Megatron had destroyed in the end.
“It’s no longer the Cybertron we knew,” he finally said.
“Yeah,” Jazz murmured after a moment. “But then again, it’s Cybertron. If there’s a chance…”
“Cybertron died, Jazz,” Barricade said, voice brutally hard. “What we see here is the dead husk of our home.”
“One we might bring back to life!”
Red optics flared briefly, then Barricade hissed. “Hope runs eternal in you Autobots.”
Jazz tilted his head a little. “Hope is what kept us going, Cade. All that time, throughout the war, it was what had us holding on.”
The former Decepticon shifted uneasily. A silver claw traced over his armor. He tried to ignore it, but he had gotten too used to the close contact not to enjoy it.
Someone else stepped into the control room and Barricade tensed briefly, then slunk a little further with his back against the wall as Perceptor entered, followed by Hook and Scrapper. The Autobot scientist only nodded at Jazz, then turned to a work station, calling up what looked like scientific formulas. Hook joined him, both of them conversing softly, while Scrapper stopped next to Jazz.
“You should be recharging,” the Constructicon leader remarked.
“We’re fine,” Jazz answered. “How are repairs coming along?”
“The Ghost-2 is already preparing for launch to return to Earth in three hours. The crew is fine. Prowl is keeping an optic on the process of the Spook.”
Jazz nodded. Prowl, Sideswipe and Jolt would fly back to Cybertron, or as close as they could safely get, and keep watch. They would also be looking for Decepticon presence.
“The Ghost-3 is refueling and the crew is currently sleeping,” Scrapper finished.
Jazz glanced over at Perceptor and Hook. “Any success so far?”
“No. A lot of theories, no solutions. Nothing like this has ever happened before,” the Constructicon leader answered slowly. “In theory it was possible, like so many things are. No one ever thought of actually moving a whole planet - until now.” His optics flared a little. “Soundwave was out of his mind to try this. It could have destroyed Cybertron, and it still might.”
Barricade rumbled softly.
Jazz just looked at the screen, before turning away. He felt homesick, in a way. Here was his home and they had no way to access the planet. Even if Cybertron was just a dead shell, it was now closer than in the past millennia.
“We’ll try to find a way to access Cybertron,” Scrapper interrupted his thoughts.
Jazz nodded. “Hopefully not too late.”
No one knew what the reality bubble was doing to the metal world. Perceptor had already listed several worst cases, all of them ending with the destruction of their world.
::Let’s go:: Barricade sent gruffly.
Jazz followed the shock-trooper through the station until they reached what doubled as personal quarters for the time they were here. He locked the door behind them and turned to his bonded. In the semi-darkness the optics glowed a deep red. Jazz placed a hand against Barricade’s spark chamber and felt an answering pulse. He smiled slightly and stepped closer, opening up.
Barricade rumbled softly and completed the connection.
* * *
Out of the dozen possible and even impossible scenarios, Cybertron trapped in a reality bubble hadn’t really come up. Tony Stark sat in his workshop, the holographic image of the homeworld of the mechs floating three-dimensionally in the middle of the projector. He gazed at it with a thoughtful expression.
Reality bubbles. It sounded like some old science fiction cliché. He might have to get Jarvis to look into that, just for fun and useless reference points. Someone had probably thought of it in Star Trek or Stargate, whatever incarnation of each series. Now it was real and it had affected a very real world.
Calling up the scans made by his own satellites and those by the Spook he read over them again and again. There was hardly any useable data. At least when it came to cold hard facts like consistency of the field, elements contained in it, radiation, etc. etc. and etc. Reality meant nothing when it came to the readings. Everything was either non-existent or twisted out of proportion.
Tony had talked to both Hook and Perceptor and both scientists had agreed that nothing they had on the field was actually helpful. They were relying on old texts, theories and dabbling from long-dead scientists into the world of space bridge technology.
“What a mess,” he murmured and switched off the projection.
Jarvis was as useless as anyone in that matter and if there was something anyone could do, it hadn’t been unearthed yet.
Hook had mentioned that the most useful information on space bridges and their effects on both the object transported and the surrounding space continuum was probably in the ancient archives - which were on Cybertron.
The archives on Cybertron were extensive and they were a place Tony would love to see one day. Scavenger had told him about them in past meetings, when they had just talked, and Perceptor had mentioned them now and again. One could get lost in the vast hall containing countless disks, scrolls, data crystals, and whatever the mechs of old and recent times had used to store data and images. A library was situated deep inside the planet, several levels down, spreading over miles. Tony could almost imagine it all, seeing the city of Skrim sitting above the entrance, the hallowed doorway into a world of knowledge. Skrim had been the city of scholars and archivists, of many, many scientists of all fields of expertise.
Skrim had been one of the earliest victims of the war. It was ruined, but the archives had survived. No one had been down there in millennia, though. Now would be a good time to go looking for a solution and no one could.
“What if someone tried to jump onto Cybertron using space bridge technology?” Tony had asked, the idea popping up in his head.
“Cybertron is surrounded by a reality bubble,” had been Hook’s condescending answer, the Constructicon looking at him like he was a stupid drone. “Nothing we know fits any more. The planet isn’t real. It’s a figment right now.”
And that was that idea. If someone actually tried -- and Scavenger had told Tony that if that someone was him, he would come and find his remains and kill him for the stunt -- the attempt wouldn’t be very successful. The space bridge portal had nowhere to connect to.
“Our objective reality concept no longer correlates with the sensed reality,” Perceptor had tried to clarify, making it even more sci-fi heavy than before. “We see something, but it’s not really there. Cybertron would influence the space around it, but it doesn’t.”
Like a projection, Tony thought.
And that was all it was. A projection that was both real and unreal. It was there, but not there.
And it was the source of headaches.
tbc...