Chapter 12


Sunstreaker woke from a deep recharge. Following an entire night on guard duty and his encounter with Grapple he’d headed for a wash then promptly crashed onto his bunk.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but evidence of Sideswipe’s coming and going during that time lay on Sunstreaker’s desktop upon examination. On top of his pile of notebooks lay the final sketch he’d done before his impulsive actions had caused his entire notebook to go missing in the first place. Apparently, the creases in it had made Grapple decide it unfit for public display, which made Sunstreaker feel more justified in his destruction of subject matters the yellow Lambo had had no right indulging in to begin with. Scrawled in the lower corner of the surviving picture in Sides’ handwriting was the note – “Grapple says you missed one.” Slag Sideswipe! And slag Grapple too!

The complete irony, which his brother knew, was this picture was the one picture Sunny wouldn’t have minded others seeing. It hadn’t even belonged in the missing notebook. Sunstreaker remembered that day in medical which his sketch depicted.

About an month ago, another battle had landed the twins and many others in the care of Ratchet and his team yet again. His brother had been the worse off of the two of them, but he’d been recovering nicely. To take his mind off worry while he recovered from his own wounds too, Sunstreaker had unsubspaced his notebook to draw, something he was known to do on occasion, only to discover he had the wrong one! He would have immediately resubpaced the notebook, but sheer boredom, a blank page, and probably some battle sustained head wound could be blamed for his bad judgment, including where he stashed it. He’d been on the verge of considering ways to accidentally injure himself once he remembered exactly where he’d misplaced the notebook just so he could retrieve it. Then Hoist just had to do thorough cleaning of medical and risk exposing Sunstreaker’s secret book of lost hopes.

When the Autobots had finally awoken from the Ark’s long slumber a year and a half ago, Sunstreaker had hated everything about Earth – its colors, its textures, its whole alieness. But the longer they’d stayed, he saw how the stars looked from standing on another world. He raced over landscapes that brought new, exciting challenges. He’d seen shades of color he never knew existed in the spectrum. Slowly, the foreign and the hated became the fascinating and exotic in all its, well, beauty, strange as it was, unspoiled by war that had ravaged Sunstreaker’s homeworld from gleaming gold (not unlike himself) to the unpolished gunmetal gray of Megatron. For the first time since Nova Cronum, Sunny had felt the overwhelming urge to capture the alien beauty around him with line and tablet.

But he had a very good reason he’d given up such dreaming long ago – Sideswipe. He remembered the uncomprehending look on his brother’s face when he’d realized exactly what lengths Sunny would go to preserve his secret back in the lounge. But it didn’t matter what world he and his brother were on as long as the Decepticons existed, as long as the war lasted, all dreams would be beyond Sunstreaker’s reach except one – to keep his beloved twin alive! And he would use every skill in his artistic arsenal to make it come true. Nothing else truly mattered, much as it pained his brother to know it.

Sunstreaker peered down at the pile of notebooks again only to find another surprise. The top notebook lay open to a page of a drawing of himself sleeping peacefully done by Sideswipe. Did he do this while I was recharging just now? The lines were rough but playful, cartoony instead of realistic. Much as Sunstreaker chided his brother about not being able to draw anything, he knew Sideswipe had learned a thing or two from him artistically over the millennia. And just between the two of them, he enjoyed seeing what kind of doodle his brother would come up with on occasion. But why had Sides done this now? The rest of the notebook was filled with Sunny’s drawings of his brother, a whole notebook devoted just to him. Sunstreaker paged back over his sketches of Sideswipe – goofy, strong, fun-loving. Then he looked again over of Sideswipe drawing of him and Sunstreaker smiled at the art before him…just a little.

* * *

For three days, Sunstreaker managed to avoid the lounge and the stupid art show. With his nose still healing it was an excuse to avoid everybody. Sideswipe, on the other hand, spent far too much time helping out in the lounge ever hinting about some big entry of his own. Had Sides gone hexagonal nuts? If this was some misguided attempt to make Sunstreaker participate or Sides’ own guilt trip over his brother’s actions it wasn’t going to work.

“What are you going to do for the art show Sunstreaker?”

The dreaded question was first asked by Mirage, his former sponsor, on the fourth morning of the contest. The words breeched him unprepared as the two of them sat in medical – Mirage for a routine check up and Sunstreaker to have his bandage plate removed.

“What do you mean?” Sunstreaker tried to appear unflustered.

“Sideswipe keeps mentioning a special secret entry. Are the two of you doing it together?”

“I’m not doing anything with Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker confirmed in annoyance.

“Of course not,” Ratchet said as he tightened a bolt on Mirage’s elbow joint. “Ol’ Sunshine’s not the type to want to share the glory with anybody.”

“So how about giving us a hint,” said Mirage testing his arm out, now pleased.

“Who says I’m doing anything!” Sunsteaker protested. Why would they even think he’d be interested in the slagin’ art show? But Mirage and Ratchet only smirked to each other, not believing a word. Ratchet even laughed as he came around to remove Sunstreaker’s bandage.

“And miss the perfect chance to show off your skills? You’d have to be reprogrammed before that happened,” the CMO said.

“Maybe I’ve decided it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else if I participated because I am the best,” Sunstreaker tried.

More laughter.

“Generosity becomes you as much as much as modesty Sunstreaker,” Ratchet replied. “Hold still or you’re going to have scarring!” the medic told his fidgety, fist-balling patient.

It was all Sunstreaker could do to obey for the sake of his countenance. Slugging a doctor over a few joking comments was never a good idea, especially Ratchet, no matter how good it felt to imagine sometimes.

“I think you’re just jealous of Sideswipe because you don’t know what you want to enter yet, Sunstreaker,” said Mirage good-naturedly. “You have a tall order ahead of you after all, if you plan to beat out the mystery artist.”

Sunstreaker’s face twitched angrily.

“Slagit! I said hold still!” Ratchet demanded.

Fortunately, no one else said anything until the bandage was removed. No scarring, despite Ratchet’s threats.

“I thought whoever that was is old news,” Sunstreaker answered Mirage casually a little calmer, but cautious.

“True, the artist did request privacy of his work.”

That was the story Grapple had circulated as Sides had told Sunny anyway. Grapple had kept Sunny’s secret, but then the architect didn’t have much choice after Sunstreaker’s drastic plan. Well he could have told everyone what Sunstreaker had done in revenge. But Grapple wasn’t like that, Sunstreaker had realized. He’d even apologized, for what it was worth. Not much, but keeping a secret was worth something. Sides must have helped Grapple see the value of that.

“But you did say you could out do him and everyone’s curious,” Mirage pressed with a superior smile. “Don’t tell me I sponsored the wrong mech all those years ago.” The nobleman’s challenging look and twinkling optics made Sunny wonder for an astrosecond. Did he know?

Sunstreaker’s optics narrowed and he snapped, “You know my work ‘Raj. I don’t have to prove anything to anybody!”

Sunstreaker slid off the berth and heard the race car mutter “we’ll see” just before he left.

* * *

Curiosity did get the better of Sunstreaker and that evening he finally found himself perusing the art show lounge. He’d waited till neither Grapple nor Sideswipe was around, but plenty of other bots were as Sunstreaker studied his crewmates amateur artistic endeavors one by one.

The first display caught him completely off guard. Clay sculptures. No, mud and clay sculptures, the kind found deep in the Earth if you dug down enough. Big messy, blobby, mud sculptures rested on a huge lumpy dried mud base. It was almost impossible to believe, but the Dinobots really did have a creative side. Self sculptures of a brontosaurus, stegosaurus, pteranadon, triceratops, and tyrannosaurus rested on a base of what appeared to be a lake, if the messy blue paint was a proper indication. It was all woefully primitive in Sunstreaker’s estimation. And yet, the idea that any of the Dinobots had any appreciation for beauty when all they seemingly enjoyed was fighting, stomping, destruction, and more fighting was a revelation in itself.

Wheeljack’s entry was a last minute replacement, he told Sunstreaker. His attempts at creating a proper working volcano model of Mt. St. Hillary had met with one too many complications. In other words, Wheeljack couldn’t figure out how to contain the model’s blast radius without destroying everyone’s surrounding entries and blowing himself across the room, despite Spike managing to complete a similar project for a science fair years ago. So Wheeljack had settled for displaying the blueprints for his latest invention he’d been working on non stop, something he called the Negavator, which promised to do a lot more damage to the enemy than any volcano model ever would. His argument for still fitting with the theme of the art show being his invention was built for the defense of the “life and beauty of our new home.” That Wheeljack could switch his skills so casually from one to the other and consider them both equal of art show exhibition was disturbing. Sunstreaker wondered how Wheeljack saw the conversion of his artistic skills to the deadly war effort. But he wouldn’t dare ask, for risk of his own secrets exposed.

Both Jazz and Blaster had chosen musical entries of expression, both very different. Jazz’s entry was true to the Earth style his own name approximated in translation – upbeat, rhythmic, and snappy just like Jazz himself. Sunstreaker quite liked it and Jazz remarked that the mystery notebook artist had been his inspiration. He’d wanted to create a musical equivalent for something the artist had done. When Sunstreaker asked which drawing he meant, Jazz just said with a wink that the mystery artist would know the tribute when he heard it. But all the improvisational music reminded Sunstreaker of was the mural in Jazz’s quarters they’d done together. Had Jazz also deduced the truth? Sunstreaker wondered as he was once again asked about his own entry and moved on to Blaster music to avoid a reply.

Blaster’s entry was surprisingly different though. Quiet, classical, and intricate, it was the opposite of what everyone expected of the loud, rock n’ roll loving boom box. When asked why the contrast, Blaster answered where was the challenge in composing something you know. He wanted to leave everyone stunned and wanting for more.

Tracks, the copycat, had drawn his inspiration from Sunstreaker’s notebook as well and made no apologies about it. Both Sunstreaker’s mountain and canyon scenes had been reinterpreted with Tracks’ own flare in what many would consider good, but Sunsteaker considered inferior quality. A careless comment that he could do better had Tracks issuing a challenge.

“Let’s see you do better then,” the Corvette demanded to see Sunstreaker’s entry. But before Sunstreaker could snap back a comment similar to what he’d said to Mirage and backed himself deeper into the corner he now realized he’d painted himself into with his bragging and denials of his own work, Tracks added, “or is your entry part of Sideswipe’s little surprise he keeps going on about and driving everyone crazy with?”

“It might. You’ll just have to see,” Sunstreaker retorted, suddenly realizing his brother’s annoying secrecy may have given him an out after all, or at least bought him some time as he continued his rounds.

Hound had come up with a hologrammatic animated slide show of his favorite nature spots – the forest, the dam, and the mountains with the animals scampering by. For an astrosecond, Sunny was reminded of what drew him to create his missing notebook. But, no, it was all too perfect in Hound’s holograms, all illusion. Decepticons only saw such sights in the form of natural resources and energy. It was how they had seen Nova Cronum. Sunstreaker’s duty now was to protect those resources. Reflection of them, contemplation, that could come after the war, if anything was left.

One of the most surprising entries came from Prowl. The logical second-in-command was notorious for his lack of imagination. Sunstreaker wondered whether Prowl might short circuit himself if he ever discovered he had any. But apparently one of Prowls past times over the last year had been developing a “video game” based on an Earth game called chess. Cybertron had its own variant of the game, but the logic and the strategy of the Earth game had appealed to Prowl. When Ratchet had prescribed the overstressed strategist take up a hobby, this had been his solution. Reluctant to share but most likely prodded by Jazz, Prowl was suddenly “cool” as the majority of bots hung out at his exhibit. Sunstreaker had no interest in chess so he passed, but he could help be amused at Prowl’s popularity and Wheeljack’s jealousy that he hadn’t gone the video game route.

Trailbreaker also had made a game, but of the tabletop variety. Based on an Earth game drawn from a real historical civil war, he called it Cybertron Risk where one could play as either Autobots or Decepticons in the defense or conquest of Earth, all in good fun of course. Sunstreaker though it ridiculous to create a game where one could play as your enemy, but it didn’t stop several Autobots from trying it and challenging each other. Sunstreaker shook his head and moved on.

He saw Huffer’s elaborate toothpick and gumdrop constructions, Beachcomber’s pressed flowers and plants, Skids’ attempts at Indian pottery, and an odd demonstration of native Earth dance by several mini-bots called “breaking” or something like that. Since smashing and twisting one’s body seemed to be the dance’s main objection, perhaps the dance had its cultural roots in some warrior’s rite of passage. The only thing certain was Warpath would need repairs after getting stuck like that.

Overall, the general variety his teammates creativity surprised Sunstreaker and somehow his work and been the catalyst for it all. He scowled. Most of the exhibits here would be considered a joke back in Nova Cronum. What did most of them really know about art? Sunstreaker turned to see Optimus Prime himself and Red Alert over at the doorway.

“This contest isn’t a good idea Optimus,” the security officer protested. “This frivolity drives us to distraction. If the Decepticons attacked right now - ”

“I appreciate your concerns, but we have people on regular guard duty and patrol Red. I don’t foresee any problems. This art show is good for learning and morale. And I hear that your high score on Prowl’s chess game is the one to beat.”

“Well, I…” the security officer blushed as red as his name.

“Let’s see how well I can do,” Optimus chuckled with a twinkle in his optics. After, an astrosecond of hesitation, Red Alert followed.

Sunstreaker heard the laughter of those around him, saw their smiles, felt their happiness, and somehow his work was the inspiration for it all. It was completely wrong. And yet, this new world cast a spell, reminding them of something missing from their war-weary lives. For brief moments, Earth allowed them to dream.

Sideswipe continued to remain secretive about his own project even from his twin. But he admitted to recruiting certain people to help him out. When Sideswipe and company finally unveiled their “masterpiece” on the last morning of the art show, Sunstreaker had also left a surprise of his own.

* * *

The last day of the art show held a bittersweet quality for Grapple as he and Hoist made their way to the lounge before anyone else. New entries had arrived every day and this was the last time they would experience that thrill. Buzz over Sideswipe’s entry had been building all week. Grapple’s curiosity was getting the better of him. But the mischievous Lambo and his associates weren’t saying a word. However, as soon as Grapple and Hoist entered the lounge, the suspense of Sideswipe’s secret was over.

The entire ceiling of the room was painted a dark indigo over which Sideswipe and company had splatter painted to their sparks’ content. Amazingly, not a drop appeared on any other surface, artwork, floor, or furniture - a contained craziness for which all could be grateful. It was magnificent because unlike most of the other art projects that would be dismantled and packed away when the day was over, this would remain as a permanent reminder for everyone of the creative fun they’d had. Grapple noticed the mural’s contributors had signed their names in a corner as a reminder as well - Sideswipe, Mirage, Ironhide, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Inferno, Red Alert, Powerglide, Ratchet, and most startling to learn, Hoist himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Grapple asked.

“Then it would hardly have been a ‘special secret project’ now would it?” Hoist said with a smile. “All of us hadn’t had a chance to participate in the art show yet. Some of us didn’t think we had the skill, others just hadn’t gotten around to anything else.”

Grapple looked over the list of names again and sighed.

“What is it, Grapple?”

“I take it this project was spearheaded by a solo Lamborghini effort.”

“If you mean did Sunstreaker participate, the answer is no. Which does seem rather unusual now that you mention it.”

“Not really,” Grapple muttered.

“Is something wrong?” Hoist asked.

“No, it’s just I…” Grapple began remembering his promise to the twins, but trailed off as something on the wall below caught his optics. “What is that?”

“It’s a drawing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t recall it being there before.”

“Shall we take a closer look then?”

The two wandered over to see a framed and excellently rendered color sketch of Sideswipe, Mirage, Ironhide, Bluestreak, Smokescreen, Inferno, Red Alert, Powerglide, Ratchet, and Hoist all captured in a scene of painting their own ceiling mural from the night before. And in the corner in bright gold letters too big to be missed was the artist’s signature – Sunstreaker!

Both architect and medic felt the air catch in their intake valves.

“I don’t believe it!” Grapple awed.

“He really is as good as he said he was! You know the style almost looks like the last picture in
the -”

“Not that. I already know,” Grapple confessed.

“You know? How?”

“I can’t say. But I finally returned it.”

“Well, what else then?” Hoist asked with a puzzled expression, but not pressing for any more info like the good friend he was.

“Did you know he was drawing you last night?”

“Why, no,” Hoist said trying to remember. “If he was, we were all so involved in our mural we didn’t even notice. “But you know what this means don’t you?”

“No, what?”

“It means that only one person didn’t enter you art show yet.”

Grapple blinked, his optics fading in and out for a clik. “Well, I know Optimus Prime doesn’t have one.”

“Actually, the latest gossip is that he’s going to demonstrate some creative moves on the basketball court this evening.”

“So who’s left then?”

Hoist threw his head back and laughed. “YOU Grapple! You’ve been so busy overseeing everything that you haven’t had the time to enter your own art show!”

It took Grapple a few astrominutes to realize Hoist was right. This whole art show had started as a way to lift his own spirits over his “house arrest” and solar tower tragedy, but had become so much more.

“I know Hoist, but - ”

“But, nothing! When’s the last time you even took a line to your drafting table? It’s time to move past the tower Grapple and dream of something new.”

And as usual, Hoist was right. And this time Grapple would listen.

* * *

But inspiration didn’t come just that night or right away. There was the destruction of his bunker and a nasty episode involving Red Alert and Wheeljack’s Negavator. But inspiration did come soon after. Grapple wanted to build something that didn’t get trashed. He wanted to build something lasting – defendable, practical, and well protected yes, but more than that. A place to really belong on this new world and not just an old spaceship in the side of a volcano. A home away from home! Grapple took out his tools and stared at his blank tablet on his drafting table. Then once he could see his creation forming in his mind he began to draw what would one day come to be known as Autobot City.

The End

 

I love it.


Especially that last line! Brilliant.


Gary

 

I agree that last line is great. I love how you tied the story in amongst several G1 episodes, and how it hints to Combaticons imprisonment on Cybertron.

 

Another excellent story, Fairlady - and dovetails nicely into the cartoon.

I especially like who did the group project - surprising mix, but shows how being on Earth changed the Bots from fellow soldiers into friends & family.

That's 2/2 I love - any idea when your next offering will be?

 

Thanks guys!

As for what's next and when...

You can currently read my short Soundwave fic in the contest thread.

After that...

I'm terrible at saying when my next fic will be done because they seem to keep getting longer each one I write. The Art of Death took me about a year to write and I prefer to have fics completed and not have people wait fovever between chapters. But I'll be sure to let you know when it's ready.

As for what it will be about. That I can say. I'm not done with the twins yet. In some ways it will be a sequel thematically to this one, but not directly. I've noticed that in the movie Sideswipe is left on Earth while Sunstreaker goes up to the Moonbase. Why were the twins separated like that and what agony they must have gone through while it happened. But it's also about filling in some of the gaps between season 2 and the movie. While those on the Moonbases are on the frontlines of the war and the crew of the fated shuttle become closer to each other, Ultra Magnus and co have to adjust to life on Earth. Ratchet will be a major character in this fic. As will Fastlane and Cloudraker, the clone twins. I hope to weave in quite a few season 3 and 4 characters. I'll also be experimenting with point of view so part of the story will be told in first person log entires and letters. The title for the story is Gemini.

 

Hmm sounds interesting, I can't wait to read it.

 

I just want to say that this is one of the best pieces of twin/G1 centric fan-fiction it has ever been my privilage to read. Truely and honestly.

Magnificently done, great charaterisation and some potent themes, a simply wonderful piece of writing!

Great stuff!

 

Damn, I almost started crying during the assault on Nova Cronum...

Really good fic, Fairlady...now I'll have to go read the other one!

--Moony