Do and Die
Title: Do and Die
Rating: T
Continuity: Any
Do and Die
This was it. The final stand. The final battle.
They knew it was. Whether Optimus or Prowl acknowledged it or not, they knew it was. How could it be anything else? They had lost outpost after outpost, until they had been forced into this little one, this tiny base.
So secluded and alone they were... The last of the Autobots. Their comrades had been lost long ago. They were all that was left.
And soon...
“Best not to think about that, Brother,” Sideswipe said, smiling at Sunstreaker.
The yellow Twin glanced at his red counterpart. “I know.”
“Like that poem you liked so much. Back on Earth.”
“'Theirs but to do and die,'” Sunstreaker quoted, gazing over the ramparts of their little base, out at the horizon, where the Decepticon army was breaking camp. The assault would begin soon.
Another dry smile spread over Sideswipe's face. “Right. We're soldiers. We do and die.”
“We weren't always.”
“But we are now.”
A ping came over the comms. The order to form up followed it. The Twins left the ramparts, moving easily to the courtyard where the remainders of the Autobot army were gathering.
Optimus Prime was standing by the gate, Prowl and Jazz behind him. Optimus's optics were dim, and Prowl and Jazz were holding hands.
“Autobots. Today, we fight,” the Prime said, then paused. “I have no words, this orn. You all know the situation. You all know what will most likely happen. All I can say is that I am honored to have served at your sides, and I thank you for the service you have offered in return.
“Now, Autobots... Roll out!”
The gates opened, and the gathered Transformers, numbering just under six hundred, moved from the garrison.
“Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the Valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
“Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker walked at the front of the procession, to the left of the Prime. His Second and Third walked behind him, but they would fall back before the fighting started. Ironhide walked at his right.
They were always at the front. Always; it was what they were built for.
“Autobots!” the Prime called, stride lengthening. “Forward!”
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but do and die:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”
The first shot was fired. Many more followed, the sharp rapport of blaster beams and solid projectiles hitting their targets, falling short, or overshooting filled the air. Mechs screamed as they fell.
The Twins charged ever onward, faces twisted in grotesque snarls, their swords shining in their hands. Weapons fire hissed around them, but, somehow, none hit. Screams filled the air. Cannons fired, guns blasted, mechs shouted.
“Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.”
Swords flashing, the Twins felled any Decepticon who dared cross their path. Scores fell under their blades.
Then, someone landed a hit on Sideswipe. The red Twin stumbled, thick thigh plating rent, then continued fighting, ignoring the seeping wound. Sunstreaker took the next hit, across his faceplates. His cheek-strut shattered, but he took no time to recover; that meant death, in a place like this. Instead, he simply whirled back to face the mech who had struck him and retaliated, spearing the mech on the sharp tip of his sword.
“Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging and army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Punched in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.”
The Decepticon lines pulled back, and the Twins made to follow, but an order from Prowl kept them, and the rest of the army, back. Their swords were swiftly put back into subspace, guns once again taking their places in servos well familiar with the handling of firearms.
Then another comm; “AUTOBOTS! FALL BACK!”
The Twins exchanged a glance, but did as ordered, moving back with the rest of their comrades, leaving an energon-soaked, frame-littered battlefield behind them.
“Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with short and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.”
Back into the fort they drove, shooting back at the following Decepticons, leaving so many behind them, dead. They had been decimated; of the six hundred that had gone out to fight, less than one hundred were now returning. Ironhide was not among them. Prowl and Jazz limped together, armor dirty and torn. Not a single bot was uninjured.
The gates closed behind them. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker turned to look at the closed portal.
They would not live much longer, they knew.
“'Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but do and die,'” Sunstreaker quoted again, and Sideswipe glanced at him.
“Do and die. That we will, my Bro.”
Sunstreaker, impulsively, lifted an arm and wrapped it around his Twin's shoulders. “Love you, Sides.”
“Love ya, too, Sunny.”
And the next orn, when they went out to fight, they did as they had said they would.
“When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Poem can be found here.
I don't own Transformers or “Charge of the Light Brigade”.
Rating: T
Continuity: Any
Do and Die
This was it. The final stand. The final battle.
They knew it was. Whether Optimus or Prowl acknowledged it or not, they knew it was. How could it be anything else? They had lost outpost after outpost, until they had been forced into this little one, this tiny base.
So secluded and alone they were... The last of the Autobots. Their comrades had been lost long ago. They were all that was left.
And soon...
“Best not to think about that, Brother,” Sideswipe said, smiling at Sunstreaker.
The yellow Twin glanced at his red counterpart. “I know.”
“Like that poem you liked so much. Back on Earth.”
“'Theirs but to do and die,'” Sunstreaker quoted, gazing over the ramparts of their little base, out at the horizon, where the Decepticon army was breaking camp. The assault would begin soon.
Another dry smile spread over Sideswipe's face. “Right. We're soldiers. We do and die.”
“We weren't always.”
“But we are now.”
A ping came over the comms. The order to form up followed it. The Twins left the ramparts, moving easily to the courtyard where the remainders of the Autobot army were gathering.
Optimus Prime was standing by the gate, Prowl and Jazz behind him. Optimus's optics were dim, and Prowl and Jazz were holding hands.
“Autobots. Today, we fight,” the Prime said, then paused. “I have no words, this orn. You all know the situation. You all know what will most likely happen. All I can say is that I am honored to have served at your sides, and I thank you for the service you have offered in return.
“Now, Autobots... Roll out!”
The gates opened, and the gathered Transformers, numbering just under six hundred, moved from the garrison.
“Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the Valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
“Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”
Sideswipe and Sunstreaker walked at the front of the procession, to the left of the Prime. His Second and Third walked behind him, but they would fall back before the fighting started. Ironhide walked at his right.
They were always at the front. Always; it was what they were built for.
“Autobots!” the Prime called, stride lengthening. “Forward!”
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but do and die:
Into the Valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.”
The first shot was fired. Many more followed, the sharp rapport of blaster beams and solid projectiles hitting their targets, falling short, or overshooting filled the air. Mechs screamed as they fell.
The Twins charged ever onward, faces twisted in grotesque snarls, their swords shining in their hands. Weapons fire hissed around them, but, somehow, none hit. Screams filled the air. Cannons fired, guns blasted, mechs shouted.
“Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.”
Swords flashing, the Twins felled any Decepticon who dared cross their path. Scores fell under their blades.
Then, someone landed a hit on Sideswipe. The red Twin stumbled, thick thigh plating rent, then continued fighting, ignoring the seeping wound. Sunstreaker took the next hit, across his faceplates. His cheek-strut shattered, but he took no time to recover; that meant death, in a place like this. Instead, he simply whirled back to face the mech who had struck him and retaliated, spearing the mech on the sharp tip of his sword.
“Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging and army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Punched in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre stroke
Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.”
The Decepticon lines pulled back, and the Twins made to follow, but an order from Prowl kept them, and the rest of the army, back. Their swords were swiftly put back into subspace, guns once again taking their places in servos well familiar with the handling of firearms.
Then another comm; “AUTOBOTS! FALL BACK!”
The Twins exchanged a glance, but did as ordered, moving back with the rest of their comrades, leaving an energon-soaked, frame-littered battlefield behind them.
“Cannon to the right of them,
Cannon to the left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with short and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.”
Back into the fort they drove, shooting back at the following Decepticons, leaving so many behind them, dead. They had been decimated; of the six hundred that had gone out to fight, less than one hundred were now returning. Ironhide was not among them. Prowl and Jazz limped together, armor dirty and torn. Not a single bot was uninjured.
The gates closed behind them. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker turned to look at the closed portal.
They would not live much longer, they knew.
“'Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but do and die,'” Sunstreaker quoted again, and Sideswipe glanced at him.
“Do and die. That we will, my Bro.”
Sunstreaker, impulsively, lifted an arm and wrapped it around his Twin's shoulders. “Love you, Sides.”
“Love ya, too, Sunny.”
And the next orn, when they went out to fight, they did as they had said they would.
“When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.”
.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.
Poem can be found here.
I don't own Transformers or “Charge of the Light Brigade”.