A Taste of Ashes
Everyone's writing fanfic these days, so why not? Here's a stab at the genre.
Fiction: "Transformers" (a cartoon and comic from the 80s, for those who don't know it)
Setting: Generation 1, including "Countdown to Extinction"
Title: A Taste of Ashes
"Enjoying the taste of irony, hmm?"
Sparkplug Witwicky stood silently in Ratchet's repair bay, looking down at the chuckling scientist. Even if the ageing Dr Arkeville hadn't been mad before, the mechanic's expression said, there was no question now. While no love was lost between would-be world conquerer and his former guinea-pig, no-one deserved what Starscream had done to the man sprawled on the medical slab.
"Aren't you glad to see me? I thought you would be thrilled, having our circumstances reversed like this. You the observer, and I the experiment!"
"There's no thrill, Arkeville. People aren't toys. You don't play with them and just - throw them away."
"Oh come now. Where's your spirit of adventure?" Arkeville wheezed a little, and grimaced. "Even now, there are so many interesting things to do and see!" He laughed again, a humorless rattle.
"And look where it got you. You're more machine than man now." Sparkplug turned to leave. "That's what you get for trusting Decepticons."
"Trust? You think I -trusted- any of those..."
A coughing fit overtook the cyborg, and he subsided weakly.
"Ah, but you're right. Megatron's plans were... unexpected." Arkeville sighed, as if even that admission was saying too much.
The younger man turned back from the door. "Megatron? I thought you'd be angrier at Starscream."
"Starscream... Starscream, I think, is a very... confused individual. He plots overthrows and betrayals every day, and yet never sees them through. He orchestrated the destruction of Earth, then repaired me when I was dying. At times, he seemed a fellow scientist. But something followed him, gnawed at him. It would not let him rest." Arkeville stared blindly at the ceiling over his head, human eye and robotic optic watching nothing. His harsh smile twitched disturbingly as buried emotions flickered just under the surface.
"He's just another insane Decepticon. They should all be sent to the scrapyard."
Arkeville closed his eye. "Then why don't you run along and scrap a few?"
Sparkplug scowled, and walked out. Across the corridor, the towering figure of the Autobot leader politely pretended not to have heard the exchange.
"Sparkplug. How is he?"
"I'm no doctor, Optimus, but he doesn't look good. I've seen men die from less."
"Hmm." Optimus Prime's expression darkened. He crossed the passageway in a single stride, and entered the repair bay.
"Doctor Arkeville."
The invalid roused slightly at his visitor's entrance, and peered upwards. "Optimus Prime. You'll excuse me if I don't get up. Being at the mercy of alien robots seems to have become a habit."
"Skyfire will return from patrol soon. He explored the same worlds as Starscream once. He may have some useful information."
"Ah, always with the last-minute heroics." Arkeville's eye narrowed. "I must admit, I'm a little surprised, Optimus Prime. Surely Decepticon technology is not that far ahead of the Autobots?"
The red robot took the veiled accusation in stride. "On Cybertron, Starscream had access to the latest repair tools. Ours are four million years out of date. He was also a scientist and explorer once, with a talent for innovation. What he's done isn't easy to follow."
Arkeville glowered, and attempted to sit up. "It should be detailed precisely on the disk I brought back from Cybertron! What is the delay?"
The commander gestured gently for the Autobots' diminuitive patient to lie back. "Just because we know what Starscream did doesn't mean we can fix what's wrong with you now. You should be in a human hospital."
"How could a hospital possibly help me? Do you think they would have the first -idea- how to deal with this? The Autobots are my only option!"
"I take it Starscream is not interested," came the dry rejoinder.
"Oh, yes, a brilliant plan! Show up at Decepticon headquarters and ask for Starscream. Do you think I'd be vaporised, or just stepped on?"
Arkeville's breathing had become labored and his face pale during his tirade. He lay back, closing his eye again and rasping.
"He did repair you once."
There was a pause, as the cyborg's respiration steadied.
"He thought he was going to be a ruler. Starscream, Tyrant of the Firmament." Arkeville's features twitched momentarily into something resembling a grin. "I was merely... a project. An experiment. Something to kill time before the Earth exploded. Someone who could appreciate his scientific talents in a highly... personal manner."
"If the Decepticon base is so dangerous for you, perhaps you'd care to explain how you managed to turn up here in one piece."
"Ah, but I never passed through their headquarters on my triumphant return from Cybertron, did I?"
"Starscream brought you back?"
"Oh no," Arkeville smirked. "No, it was much more interesting than that."
"Why has there been no explosion?"
The irritated tones of the seated Decepticon were lost on his audience. The much smaller humanoid sat shackled to a mobile security chair intended to constrain robots ten times his strength. His poise suggested this was a minor inconvenience, something beneath his notice. At his towering captor's words, however, he sagged in his restraints. Hours of killing tension drained away in a heartbeat.
Starscream, as ever, was oblivious. "A malfunction in the timer! That must be it!"
The chairbound fusion of man and machine that called itself Doctor Arkeville schooled his remaining features into the slightly malevolent smile he wore around Decepticons, as the metal giant shifted position and turned towards him.
"You will go back to Earth to check it, Doctor!"
Arkeville would have liked nothing better at that moment, but foresaw one small problem.
"And how would you propose I get there, hmm? On my rollerskates!?"
The expression on the face of the being responsible for Arkeville's predicament was almost worth it. Starscream's dreams of conquest and adulation had once again shattered on inconvenient reality. Now, quickly, while he was off-balance...
"You're forgetting, Starscream - you're the only one who knows how the timing device works! You are the one who must return to Earth!"
For a moment, Arkeville thought he'd pushed his luck too far, as the white robot rose to stand before the monitoring console. But Starscream was not going to destroy his one and only servant just yet. Gathering his dignity, he swept from the room. Arkeville was alone.
As the door slid shut behind the ambition-fuelled Air Commander, Arkeville allowed himself a small thrill of victory. He reviewed his situation, and for the first time in months a genuine grin pulled at his lips. Kidnapped by giant robots. Shanghaied to an alien planet. Electrocuted, and half his body replaced with unknown machinery. Then abandoned and shackled, without food or water, to an extraterrestrial security device - the sibling of which had almost killed him once already. Not to mention being in thrall to a murderous backstabbing multi-million-year-old semi-indestructible alien intelligence who was actively attempting to destroy the world using Arkeville's own invention.
Oh, he hadn't been challenged like this in years!
Arkeville spun his chair around and headed for the repair bay, where Starscream had conducted his Frankensteinian operations on the scientist's unconcious form. If Starscream's previous flight speed was any indication, Arkeville estimated he had ten hours at his disposal. Plenty of time for a genius of science!
An hour later, he revised his opinion. The repair bay contained a plethora of useful tools, but all of them were beyond his reach while he remained confined to the chair. If he could only get to the bay's controls, he could commandeer something that would free him so he could get to the controls, which he wouldn't then need to do anyway. Not quite a Catch-22, but an interesting problem in its own way.
"When all else fails," Arkeville announced to the silent room, "a genius turns the problem on its head. What if I were someone important who was too damaged to move - say, if I were Starscream, or Megatron? A repair bay should still be able to fix me. Ah-ha, of course!"
"Computer!" he snarled at the surrounding machinery. "I, Dr Arkeville, command you to assist me!"
-Security clearance unknown-, chimed a toneless voice from somewhere in the air above him.
"We'll see about that. No computer in existence can defy me!" Arkeville muttered gleefully. "Computer! What are your records of me?"
-Hybrid semi-biological construct answering to designation Doctor or Doctor Arkeville. Recent alteration from predominantly biological hybrid using Decepticon resources-
"Who authorised the use of those resources?"
-Air Commander Starscream-
Sometimes, it was all too easy, Arkeville thought. He relaxed into the indifferent embrace of his mobile prison.
"Quite right, computer. Air Commander Starscream. Leader of the Decepticons!"
-Incorrect. Current Decepticon leader is Commander Megatron-
Arkeville scowled. It seemed the computers here hadn't kept up with recent events. Of course, he only had Starscream's word of Megatron's demise...
"Megatron is dead!"
-Incorrect. Commander Megatron is currently operational-
"Are you sure?"
-Commander Megatron's operational status confirmed-
So Starscream wasn't above bending the truth a little - or a lot. That didn't surprise Arkeville. Starscream had casually plotted the death of an entire planet, including the dominant civilisation, for his own glory. A few lies here and there barely registered on that kind of scale. Arkeville cogitated for a moment, then altered his line of questioning.
"Who has greater authority than Starscream concerning the use of repair bay resources?"
-Commander Megatron outranks Air Commander Starscream. Commander Shockwave has overriding authority regarding the use of Cybertronian resources-
"Have Megatron or this Shockwave currently designated any limits on the use of the resources in this repair bay?"
-Repair bay resources may not be used for purposes running counter to the interests of the Decepticons-
"Computer! Starscream created my current form. Both Megatron and Starscream have commanded my actions in recent times. Confirm this."
-Confirmed-
"Then logically, I am a Decepticon slave, servant, or otherwise similarly allied or in thrall to Megatron or the Decepticon cause."
-Probability 87.224 percent-
"And by the same logic, I can better serve the Decepticon cause when my new body is fully operational."
-Probability 99.424 percent-
"Computer! While in transit between Earth and Cybertron, Air Commander Starscream commanded me to serve the Decepticon cause... by learning how to operate and maintain any replacement body he saw fit to give me."
Silence. Evidently the computer did not perceive that an answer was necessary.
"Computer! By the authority of Air Commander Starscream, I hereby commandeer the resources of this repair bay to better serve the Decepticon cause."
-Acknowledged-
Computers, Arkeville sneered. What was that phrase civilian programmers used? Garbage in, garbage out?
"First, I require information. What fuel source do my... that is, what fuel source do Air Commander Starscream's additions to my structure use?"
-Diluted energon-
"I will now learn the refuelling process. Provide me with sufficient diluted energon to fully energise these components, plus an additional ten astrolitres for... experimentation. Display the fuelling process on this room's main monitor. Command a medicron unit to raise my chair until my optic sensors are on a level suitable for viewing the screen..."
The next few hours proved to be very entertaining indeed.
"You refuelled yourself," murmured Prime. "That's still not the entire story."
"Patience, Optimus Prime. Remember, I now had a set of repair tools at my disposal..."
Arkeville yawned and stretched. At his age, he didn't need a lot of sleep, and he'd catnapped yesterday while Starscream had poked around in Arkeville's Earthside laboratory... only yesterday? It seemed longer. On the other hand, today he'd experienced the most interesting hours of his life, and they weren't over yet. With the repair bay laser welders under his command, he'd made short work of the security chair, and now spent most of his time learning exactly what Starscream had done to him.
He had to admit - for all the Decepticon's arrogance, Starscream had done an amazing job. His new limbs worked perfectly. They were even mass-corrected to match his remaining flesh-and-blood parts. The nerve impulses from his new eye and ear mimicked the originals without a flaw - it was likely, Arkeville reflected, that Starscream had simply made a computer copy of his undamaged sensory organs and used those as blueprints.
He didn't work out how his right leg was powered below the knee until he asked for an internal scan. The bone pins a laboratory accident had necessitated in his right thigh almost forty years ago had been replaced by a strut of some kind. Interestingly enough, Starscream seemed to have adapted Arkeville's own cybernetic interface from his right arm to ensure that flesh and steel would work together.
Most of his internal organs appeared to be intact. His torso musculature was now largely artificial, and he was missing a kidney and lung. Fortunately, what remained was sufficient for his severely curtailed flesh. His spine and pelvis had been augmented - he'd cracked vertebrae when he hit the floor. For what it was worth, he was still mostly human under the right side of his abdominal armor.
Arkeville found himself staring at the impersonal diagrams of his digestive system, which had been simplified and partially replaced. The fact that he'd have to watch his diet from now on struck him as incredibly funny, and for several minutes the stark Cybertronian steel rang with human laughter.
"It was that amusing?"
"It certainly seemed so, at the time. When all the alternatives were death, mere dieting became trivial by comparison."
"I see your point."
"My next problem was transport. This proved to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated."
"So my choices are these: persuading a native to fly me home, attempting to pilot an alien cargo transport past planetary defence systems, or convincing this 'Shockwave', ah, -Commander- Shockwave, to let me use the space bridge."
-Alternatives: Locate a privately owned vessel. Build a vessel. Adapt your own form for spaceflight-
"Too time-consuming. I want to, ah, that is, Air Commander Starscream instructed me to return to Earth as soon as possible."
-Fastest travel method is the space bridge-
"Then I shall need to attend to Shockwave. Computer!"
-Proceed-
"I require information about the space bridge controls, the services of two medacrons, and the following devices constructed..."
Time passed.
Arkeville waited impatiently in an empty room. It was one of several with doors opening onto the same corridor that served Shockwave's command centre. He checked the glowing time display in his right arm - the medacron he'd crudely modified should be starting its preprogrammed routine. General destruction and mayhem with heavy repair lasers. Normally, Shockwave would shut it down remotely, but this drone would not be responding to remote commands...
A door slid open in the corridor outside, and Arkeville heard heavy footsteps thumping rapidly away down the corridor. "Now! Into the command room!" he hissed at his steed. The second medacron lurched forward as his own room's door moved aside, and they shot into the command centre just ahead of the closing portal.
Glancing about, Arkeville spotted the space bridge controls, and urged the medacron over. It stopped short of the console, as programmed. Arkeville had no doubt such an important device would be equipped with a sentry monitor similar to the murderous guardian of Starscream's energy collector.
"Medacron Seventeen! Lower me to the floor!" commanded Arkeville. Hefting a crude rucksack, he trotted over to the doors the medbay computer had described as the space bridge entrance.
"Medacron Seventeen! Start program Arkeville-1!"
The drone smoothly unslung a canister of smallish spheres from its back and plucked one out. Arkeville didn't know what material they were - he'd just specified nonmetallic. Possibly they were some kind of ceramic. There was no hesitation as the repair bay robot deftly tossed the globe towards the control panel.
-tak-CRACK-
The quiet sound of the ball landing on the panel was followed almost immediately by the whipcrack of it striking the far wall, as the sentry monitor applied a repulsive force to match its electrical discharge. But the damage was done - a button had been pressed. The repair mechanism hummed, and took out a second ball. Then a third, and a fourth.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
Arkeville knew precisely how many keystrokes it took to program the space bridge console. The computer had been most helpful. What he didn't know was how much time he'd bought before Shockwave returned.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-swish-
He jumped as the entrance to the space bridge opened, then scuttled inside. The medacron continued calmly tossing spheres.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
The doors closed. The power indicator rose.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
A subtle vibration thrummed through the floor. Surely if Shockwave had not already been informed of the unauthorised transport, he would feel that. There was no way back.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
The door to the corridor slid open. In its place, the light gleamed off purple angles. Very large, very heavy, very displeased purple angles.
"Why is a medacron in the command centre?" Shockwave intoned, stepping into the room. He grasped the small mechanism one-handed and raised it to his cyclopean optic, his grip pinning the medacron's arm unit to its side. With three buttons left to press, time had run out for Dr Arkeville.
"The space bridge has been activated." Shockwave seemed to delight in stating the obvious. "Someone is trying to travel to Earth. Starscream."
If nothing else, Arkeville thought, he could take a small pride in making the massive military mechanism jump to the wrong conclusion.
Shockwave dropped the medacron and started towards the space bridge. "Starscream, Megatron has ordered that you be placed in confinement." The titan halted outside the doors and reached for the manual override.
-tak-PING!-
Arkeville could not see the medacron, but could imagine Shockwave might be startled to receive a high-velocity ceramic golfball in the back of the head.
"I am under attack!"
And so it may have seemed for a minute. A second sphere sailed through the air as the medacron's program resumed, having paused to recalibrate for its new position. As a side-effect, the security system was deflecting the projectiles towards the space bridge doors.
-tak-PING!-
A fragment of momentary silence, as Cybertron's top military strategist assessed the situation. The drone smoothly processed another ball.
Weapons fire shook the room, and Arkeville calculated the repair bay robot was now in need of repairs itself. The final ball reached the top of its arc and dropped toward the control panel as Shockwave retargeted.
-tak-CRUNCH!-, and a pained cry was the last sound Arkeville heard from Cybertron. The planet's most logic-driven inhabitant should have thought to shield his single optic.
"So you made it though the space bridge. Impressive."
"Yes, it was, wasn't it? Then it was simply a matter of determining where I was, locating the nearest road, and obtaining transport from the first passing motorist. I made my way to my backup laboratory, and was soon back in business."
"Until you sent a distress signal on the Autobot frequency."
"I didn't trust Starscream's work to hold together. So I hooked up a dead-man's switch to the biomonitors in my right arm."
"Lucky for you Inferno happened to be in the area when it triggered."
"Luck! Luck is relative. I have a cyborg body, stronger and faster than a human. I am still Dr Arkeville, genius of science! And yet, Optimus Prime, I am dying because of that body, and in spite of that genius. Do you call that luck?"
Optimus's answer was pre-empted by the -blip- of his communicator.
"Skyfire's returned."
The Autobot leader straightened, and headed for the exit. "I'll see if he can assist with your condition, Doctor. He knows more of Starscream's history than anyone."
"Then go, go!"
Arkeville listened to the footsteps fade away, and his whisper echoed in the empty room.
"For all your intellect, you were used. Corrupted. Nothing more than a tool, now - a slave, broken and reforged in his fires."
Silence washed back over him, and his lips stretched into Starscream's empty smile.
Fiction: "Transformers" (a cartoon and comic from the 80s, for those who don't know it)
Setting: Generation 1, including "Countdown to Extinction"
Title: A Taste of Ashes
"Enjoying the taste of irony, hmm?"
Sparkplug Witwicky stood silently in Ratchet's repair bay, looking down at the chuckling scientist. Even if the ageing Dr Arkeville hadn't been mad before, the mechanic's expression said, there was no question now. While no love was lost between would-be world conquerer and his former guinea-pig, no-one deserved what Starscream had done to the man sprawled on the medical slab.
"Aren't you glad to see me? I thought you would be thrilled, having our circumstances reversed like this. You the observer, and I the experiment!"
"There's no thrill, Arkeville. People aren't toys. You don't play with them and just - throw them away."
"Oh come now. Where's your spirit of adventure?" Arkeville wheezed a little, and grimaced. "Even now, there are so many interesting things to do and see!" He laughed again, a humorless rattle.
"And look where it got you. You're more machine than man now." Sparkplug turned to leave. "That's what you get for trusting Decepticons."
"Trust? You think I -trusted- any of those..."
A coughing fit overtook the cyborg, and he subsided weakly.
"Ah, but you're right. Megatron's plans were... unexpected." Arkeville sighed, as if even that admission was saying too much.
The younger man turned back from the door. "Megatron? I thought you'd be angrier at Starscream."
"Starscream... Starscream, I think, is a very... confused individual. He plots overthrows and betrayals every day, and yet never sees them through. He orchestrated the destruction of Earth, then repaired me when I was dying. At times, he seemed a fellow scientist. But something followed him, gnawed at him. It would not let him rest." Arkeville stared blindly at the ceiling over his head, human eye and robotic optic watching nothing. His harsh smile twitched disturbingly as buried emotions flickered just under the surface.
"He's just another insane Decepticon. They should all be sent to the scrapyard."
Arkeville closed his eye. "Then why don't you run along and scrap a few?"
Sparkplug scowled, and walked out. Across the corridor, the towering figure of the Autobot leader politely pretended not to have heard the exchange.
"Sparkplug. How is he?"
"I'm no doctor, Optimus, but he doesn't look good. I've seen men die from less."
"Hmm." Optimus Prime's expression darkened. He crossed the passageway in a single stride, and entered the repair bay.
"Doctor Arkeville."
The invalid roused slightly at his visitor's entrance, and peered upwards. "Optimus Prime. You'll excuse me if I don't get up. Being at the mercy of alien robots seems to have become a habit."
"Skyfire will return from patrol soon. He explored the same worlds as Starscream once. He may have some useful information."
"Ah, always with the last-minute heroics." Arkeville's eye narrowed. "I must admit, I'm a little surprised, Optimus Prime. Surely Decepticon technology is not that far ahead of the Autobots?"
The red robot took the veiled accusation in stride. "On Cybertron, Starscream had access to the latest repair tools. Ours are four million years out of date. He was also a scientist and explorer once, with a talent for innovation. What he's done isn't easy to follow."
Arkeville glowered, and attempted to sit up. "It should be detailed precisely on the disk I brought back from Cybertron! What is the delay?"
The commander gestured gently for the Autobots' diminuitive patient to lie back. "Just because we know what Starscream did doesn't mean we can fix what's wrong with you now. You should be in a human hospital."
"How could a hospital possibly help me? Do you think they would have the first -idea- how to deal with this? The Autobots are my only option!"
"I take it Starscream is not interested," came the dry rejoinder.
"Oh, yes, a brilliant plan! Show up at Decepticon headquarters and ask for Starscream. Do you think I'd be vaporised, or just stepped on?"
Arkeville's breathing had become labored and his face pale during his tirade. He lay back, closing his eye again and rasping.
"He did repair you once."
There was a pause, as the cyborg's respiration steadied.
"He thought he was going to be a ruler. Starscream, Tyrant of the Firmament." Arkeville's features twitched momentarily into something resembling a grin. "I was merely... a project. An experiment. Something to kill time before the Earth exploded. Someone who could appreciate his scientific talents in a highly... personal manner."
"If the Decepticon base is so dangerous for you, perhaps you'd care to explain how you managed to turn up here in one piece."
"Ah, but I never passed through their headquarters on my triumphant return from Cybertron, did I?"
"Starscream brought you back?"
"Oh no," Arkeville smirked. "No, it was much more interesting than that."
"Why has there been no explosion?"
The irritated tones of the seated Decepticon were lost on his audience. The much smaller humanoid sat shackled to a mobile security chair intended to constrain robots ten times his strength. His poise suggested this was a minor inconvenience, something beneath his notice. At his towering captor's words, however, he sagged in his restraints. Hours of killing tension drained away in a heartbeat.
Starscream, as ever, was oblivious. "A malfunction in the timer! That must be it!"
The chairbound fusion of man and machine that called itself Doctor Arkeville schooled his remaining features into the slightly malevolent smile he wore around Decepticons, as the metal giant shifted position and turned towards him.
"You will go back to Earth to check it, Doctor!"
Arkeville would have liked nothing better at that moment, but foresaw one small problem.
"And how would you propose I get there, hmm? On my rollerskates!?"
The expression on the face of the being responsible for Arkeville's predicament was almost worth it. Starscream's dreams of conquest and adulation had once again shattered on inconvenient reality. Now, quickly, while he was off-balance...
"You're forgetting, Starscream - you're the only one who knows how the timing device works! You are the one who must return to Earth!"
For a moment, Arkeville thought he'd pushed his luck too far, as the white robot rose to stand before the monitoring console. But Starscream was not going to destroy his one and only servant just yet. Gathering his dignity, he swept from the room. Arkeville was alone.
As the door slid shut behind the ambition-fuelled Air Commander, Arkeville allowed himself a small thrill of victory. He reviewed his situation, and for the first time in months a genuine grin pulled at his lips. Kidnapped by giant robots. Shanghaied to an alien planet. Electrocuted, and half his body replaced with unknown machinery. Then abandoned and shackled, without food or water, to an extraterrestrial security device - the sibling of which had almost killed him once already. Not to mention being in thrall to a murderous backstabbing multi-million-year-old semi-indestructible alien intelligence who was actively attempting to destroy the world using Arkeville's own invention.
Oh, he hadn't been challenged like this in years!
Arkeville spun his chair around and headed for the repair bay, where Starscream had conducted his Frankensteinian operations on the scientist's unconcious form. If Starscream's previous flight speed was any indication, Arkeville estimated he had ten hours at his disposal. Plenty of time for a genius of science!
An hour later, he revised his opinion. The repair bay contained a plethora of useful tools, but all of them were beyond his reach while he remained confined to the chair. If he could only get to the bay's controls, he could commandeer something that would free him so he could get to the controls, which he wouldn't then need to do anyway. Not quite a Catch-22, but an interesting problem in its own way.
"When all else fails," Arkeville announced to the silent room, "a genius turns the problem on its head. What if I were someone important who was too damaged to move - say, if I were Starscream, or Megatron? A repair bay should still be able to fix me. Ah-ha, of course!"
"Computer!" he snarled at the surrounding machinery. "I, Dr Arkeville, command you to assist me!"
-Security clearance unknown-, chimed a toneless voice from somewhere in the air above him.
"We'll see about that. No computer in existence can defy me!" Arkeville muttered gleefully. "Computer! What are your records of me?"
-Hybrid semi-biological construct answering to designation Doctor or Doctor Arkeville. Recent alteration from predominantly biological hybrid using Decepticon resources-
"Who authorised the use of those resources?"
-Air Commander Starscream-
Sometimes, it was all too easy, Arkeville thought. He relaxed into the indifferent embrace of his mobile prison.
"Quite right, computer. Air Commander Starscream. Leader of the Decepticons!"
-Incorrect. Current Decepticon leader is Commander Megatron-
Arkeville scowled. It seemed the computers here hadn't kept up with recent events. Of course, he only had Starscream's word of Megatron's demise...
"Megatron is dead!"
-Incorrect. Commander Megatron is currently operational-
"Are you sure?"
-Commander Megatron's operational status confirmed-
So Starscream wasn't above bending the truth a little - or a lot. That didn't surprise Arkeville. Starscream had casually plotted the death of an entire planet, including the dominant civilisation, for his own glory. A few lies here and there barely registered on that kind of scale. Arkeville cogitated for a moment, then altered his line of questioning.
"Who has greater authority than Starscream concerning the use of repair bay resources?"
-Commander Megatron outranks Air Commander Starscream. Commander Shockwave has overriding authority regarding the use of Cybertronian resources-
"Have Megatron or this Shockwave currently designated any limits on the use of the resources in this repair bay?"
-Repair bay resources may not be used for purposes running counter to the interests of the Decepticons-
"Computer! Starscream created my current form. Both Megatron and Starscream have commanded my actions in recent times. Confirm this."
-Confirmed-
"Then logically, I am a Decepticon slave, servant, or otherwise similarly allied or in thrall to Megatron or the Decepticon cause."
-Probability 87.224 percent-
"And by the same logic, I can better serve the Decepticon cause when my new body is fully operational."
-Probability 99.424 percent-
"Computer! While in transit between Earth and Cybertron, Air Commander Starscream commanded me to serve the Decepticon cause... by learning how to operate and maintain any replacement body he saw fit to give me."
Silence. Evidently the computer did not perceive that an answer was necessary.
"Computer! By the authority of Air Commander Starscream, I hereby commandeer the resources of this repair bay to better serve the Decepticon cause."
-Acknowledged-
Computers, Arkeville sneered. What was that phrase civilian programmers used? Garbage in, garbage out?
"First, I require information. What fuel source do my... that is, what fuel source do Air Commander Starscream's additions to my structure use?"
-Diluted energon-
"I will now learn the refuelling process. Provide me with sufficient diluted energon to fully energise these components, plus an additional ten astrolitres for... experimentation. Display the fuelling process on this room's main monitor. Command a medicron unit to raise my chair until my optic sensors are on a level suitable for viewing the screen..."
The next few hours proved to be very entertaining indeed.
"You refuelled yourself," murmured Prime. "That's still not the entire story."
"Patience, Optimus Prime. Remember, I now had a set of repair tools at my disposal..."
Arkeville yawned and stretched. At his age, he didn't need a lot of sleep, and he'd catnapped yesterday while Starscream had poked around in Arkeville's Earthside laboratory... only yesterday? It seemed longer. On the other hand, today he'd experienced the most interesting hours of his life, and they weren't over yet. With the repair bay laser welders under his command, he'd made short work of the security chair, and now spent most of his time learning exactly what Starscream had done to him.
He had to admit - for all the Decepticon's arrogance, Starscream had done an amazing job. His new limbs worked perfectly. They were even mass-corrected to match his remaining flesh-and-blood parts. The nerve impulses from his new eye and ear mimicked the originals without a flaw - it was likely, Arkeville reflected, that Starscream had simply made a computer copy of his undamaged sensory organs and used those as blueprints.
He didn't work out how his right leg was powered below the knee until he asked for an internal scan. The bone pins a laboratory accident had necessitated in his right thigh almost forty years ago had been replaced by a strut of some kind. Interestingly enough, Starscream seemed to have adapted Arkeville's own cybernetic interface from his right arm to ensure that flesh and steel would work together.
Most of his internal organs appeared to be intact. His torso musculature was now largely artificial, and he was missing a kidney and lung. Fortunately, what remained was sufficient for his severely curtailed flesh. His spine and pelvis had been augmented - he'd cracked vertebrae when he hit the floor. For what it was worth, he was still mostly human under the right side of his abdominal armor.
Arkeville found himself staring at the impersonal diagrams of his digestive system, which had been simplified and partially replaced. The fact that he'd have to watch his diet from now on struck him as incredibly funny, and for several minutes the stark Cybertronian steel rang with human laughter.
"It was that amusing?"
"It certainly seemed so, at the time. When all the alternatives were death, mere dieting became trivial by comparison."
"I see your point."
"My next problem was transport. This proved to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated."
"So my choices are these: persuading a native to fly me home, attempting to pilot an alien cargo transport past planetary defence systems, or convincing this 'Shockwave', ah, -Commander- Shockwave, to let me use the space bridge."
-Alternatives: Locate a privately owned vessel. Build a vessel. Adapt your own form for spaceflight-
"Too time-consuming. I want to, ah, that is, Air Commander Starscream instructed me to return to Earth as soon as possible."
-Fastest travel method is the space bridge-
"Then I shall need to attend to Shockwave. Computer!"
-Proceed-
"I require information about the space bridge controls, the services of two medacrons, and the following devices constructed..."
Time passed.
Arkeville waited impatiently in an empty room. It was one of several with doors opening onto the same corridor that served Shockwave's command centre. He checked the glowing time display in his right arm - the medacron he'd crudely modified should be starting its preprogrammed routine. General destruction and mayhem with heavy repair lasers. Normally, Shockwave would shut it down remotely, but this drone would not be responding to remote commands...
A door slid open in the corridor outside, and Arkeville heard heavy footsteps thumping rapidly away down the corridor. "Now! Into the command room!" he hissed at his steed. The second medacron lurched forward as his own room's door moved aside, and they shot into the command centre just ahead of the closing portal.
Glancing about, Arkeville spotted the space bridge controls, and urged the medacron over. It stopped short of the console, as programmed. Arkeville had no doubt such an important device would be equipped with a sentry monitor similar to the murderous guardian of Starscream's energy collector.
"Medacron Seventeen! Lower me to the floor!" commanded Arkeville. Hefting a crude rucksack, he trotted over to the doors the medbay computer had described as the space bridge entrance.
"Medacron Seventeen! Start program Arkeville-1!"
The drone smoothly unslung a canister of smallish spheres from its back and plucked one out. Arkeville didn't know what material they were - he'd just specified nonmetallic. Possibly they were some kind of ceramic. There was no hesitation as the repair bay robot deftly tossed the globe towards the control panel.
-tak-CRACK-
The quiet sound of the ball landing on the panel was followed almost immediately by the whipcrack of it striking the far wall, as the sentry monitor applied a repulsive force to match its electrical discharge. But the damage was done - a button had been pressed. The repair mechanism hummed, and took out a second ball. Then a third, and a fourth.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
Arkeville knew precisely how many keystrokes it took to program the space bridge console. The computer had been most helpful. What he didn't know was how much time he'd bought before Shockwave returned.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-swish-
He jumped as the entrance to the space bridge opened, then scuttled inside. The medacron continued calmly tossing spheres.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
The doors closed. The power indicator rose.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
A subtle vibration thrummed through the floor. Surely if Shockwave had not already been informed of the unauthorised transport, he would feel that. There was no way back.
-tak-CRACK-
-tak-CRACK-
The door to the corridor slid open. In its place, the light gleamed off purple angles. Very large, very heavy, very displeased purple angles.
"Why is a medacron in the command centre?" Shockwave intoned, stepping into the room. He grasped the small mechanism one-handed and raised it to his cyclopean optic, his grip pinning the medacron's arm unit to its side. With three buttons left to press, time had run out for Dr Arkeville.
"The space bridge has been activated." Shockwave seemed to delight in stating the obvious. "Someone is trying to travel to Earth. Starscream."
If nothing else, Arkeville thought, he could take a small pride in making the massive military mechanism jump to the wrong conclusion.
Shockwave dropped the medacron and started towards the space bridge. "Starscream, Megatron has ordered that you be placed in confinement." The titan halted outside the doors and reached for the manual override.
-tak-PING!-
Arkeville could not see the medacron, but could imagine Shockwave might be startled to receive a high-velocity ceramic golfball in the back of the head.
"I am under attack!"
And so it may have seemed for a minute. A second sphere sailed through the air as the medacron's program resumed, having paused to recalibrate for its new position. As a side-effect, the security system was deflecting the projectiles towards the space bridge doors.
-tak-PING!-
A fragment of momentary silence, as Cybertron's top military strategist assessed the situation. The drone smoothly processed another ball.
Weapons fire shook the room, and Arkeville calculated the repair bay robot was now in need of repairs itself. The final ball reached the top of its arc and dropped toward the control panel as Shockwave retargeted.
-tak-CRUNCH!-, and a pained cry was the last sound Arkeville heard from Cybertron. The planet's most logic-driven inhabitant should have thought to shield his single optic.
"So you made it though the space bridge. Impressive."
"Yes, it was, wasn't it? Then it was simply a matter of determining where I was, locating the nearest road, and obtaining transport from the first passing motorist. I made my way to my backup laboratory, and was soon back in business."
"Until you sent a distress signal on the Autobot frequency."
"I didn't trust Starscream's work to hold together. So I hooked up a dead-man's switch to the biomonitors in my right arm."
"Lucky for you Inferno happened to be in the area when it triggered."
"Luck! Luck is relative. I have a cyborg body, stronger and faster than a human. I am still Dr Arkeville, genius of science! And yet, Optimus Prime, I am dying because of that body, and in spite of that genius. Do you call that luck?"
Optimus's answer was pre-empted by the -blip- of his communicator.
"Skyfire's returned."
The Autobot leader straightened, and headed for the exit. "I'll see if he can assist with your condition, Doctor. He knows more of Starscream's history than anyone."
"Then go, go!"
Arkeville listened to the footsteps fade away, and his whisper echoed in the empty room.
"For all your intellect, you were used. Corrupted. Nothing more than a tool, now - a slave, broken and reforged in his fires."
Silence washed back over him, and his lips stretched into Starscream's empty smile.