LOVE IT, LOVE IT, LOVE IT.......You should have it published and mass-printed. I look forward to the next installment. Don't keep me waiting to long, now.
shameto hear you're putting this down to rest. still it has to come to an end sometime and i just hope Sideswipe will be able to cope better with his brother's loss this time ifhe doesn't make it back. glad to hear there'll be an epilouge.
freakin awesome. Absolutely amazing work. I'm very sorry to see it end, but then, the ALT line ended too, so there really aren't any new characters to draw from. I was very satisfied so far, and this and Isolation deserves a book format. Oh, in case it feels really depressing to have top go back nd rewrite a passage consider that many of the greats did that too. JRR tolkien supposedly wrote mutliple versions of lord of the rings before finishing. Everytime he'd get writers block he'd go back and start at the beginning leaving mulitple unfinished drafts of his masterpiece.... He described it as water washing against a shore, with more water coming in each wave. George Lucas supposedly had the first three episodes roughed out when he wrote 4-6 of starwars. Then during a divorce, he lost the drafts and had to make them up again... Said his tales were that much better for it. So, it's all in how you see it.
Chapter 20 - Destination "Unidentified vehicle on re-entry path, this is US Space Command, report your identity." "Unidentified vehicle on re-entry path, this is US Space Command, report your identity immediately or you will be fired upon." "Shuttle Resurrection on re-entry. We are in international air space and are heading for landing away from your jurisdiction." "Negative Shuttle Resurrection. You will follow our instructions and land where directed or you will be fired upon." "Space Command, we have a landing field awaiting our arrival. We have right to land according to our schedule." "Shuttle Resurrection, we know who you are and what you have done. Your Nigerian landing facility is under attack and your runway has been cratered. The Japanese Self-Defence Force has been confined to barracks. The international community will not object to placing several missiles into your engines." "Shuttle Resurrection, please respond." "Acknowledged Space Command. What are your directions?" "Standby please Shuttle Resurrection. Second inbound vehicle behind Shuttle Resurrection, this is US Space Command, report your identity." "Second inbound vehicle behind Shuttle Resurrection, this is US Space Command, report your identity immediately." "No." Unnamed Mountain Rocky Mountain Range, Colorado Outside of facility Same time Far below, surrounded by the odd mix of drab and colourful vehicles of General Barbera's GI Joe taskforce, Optimus Prime and Skids stood beside the distraught Sideswipe, gazing at the faint light in the night sky above them. To the humans it looked like another shooting star breaking up in the atmosphere, but the superior optics of the Autobots, even in their compromised human constructed frames, could pick out more detail. They could see two distinct objects, drawing a line of fire across the night sky. The three Autobots became four as Ultra Magnus stepped over to join them, carefully picking his way through the scattered vehicles. Optimus placed a hand on Sideswipe's shoulder. Barbera stepped towards the group, trying to get Optimus attention briefly. Optimus ignored her as Magnus turned and said something the other three did not catch. Barbera, who had had communication from the Air Force Shuttle Independence stepped back, choosing to give the Autobots a moment of solace. Magnus, his own emotions still in deep turmoil, put them aside, to give Sideswipe as much support as he could and reached out to grip Sideswipe's other shoulder. Riveted to the scene above, Sideswipe felt the presence of his two superior officers, but could not acknowledge them. Despite himself he started murmuring, giving voice to emotions that threatened to engulf him. "Don't leave me again, Sunny. Not again," Optimus and Magnus both increased their grip, as in the background, the other Autobots stopped what they were doing and looked either at the four Autobots or trained their their gazes upwards. Mirage retrieved his old snipers rifle, which had arrived in a batch of Autobot weapons in one of the GI Joe trucks. Lifting it towards the heavens he focussed the telescopic sight, picking out greater detail still. Using the minutest amounts of hydraulic pressure his frame was capable of, he tracked the scene above them. The scope on his rifle picked out tiny images, enhanced, and interpreted it stared through the cloudless morning at the sight far above. "Unicron's ghost. He's chasing the shuttle into the atmosphere..." "Optimus," Barbera interrupted, having given the scene before her as much patience as she could tolerate. "The shuttle Resurrection has been cleared to land." "Where?" Airspace over Nevada Flying westwards Same time "Where?" yelled Chip Chase above the din of the C-17 Cargomaster's four turbofan engines. Two of the Binaltech facilities support trucks had been tied down by anchor chains inside the interior of the aircraft. The cargo plane rumbled across the sky heading westwards, guessing it might be escorted towards the more secure Air Force facility in California, rather than the more public runway at the Kennedy Space Centre. While a second C-17 sat idling on the ramp at Nellis Air Force base in Nevada, ready to support the first aircraft, or to head in another direction if Chase's guess had been wrong and the Resurrection was headed elsewhere. "Edwards AFB. It was the only place large enough and secure enough." "Colonel, go go go, we have to get to Edwards, if Sunstreaker's is still alive we have to be there ahead of them. Go!" "Affirmative Doctor Chase. Attention Joshua tower, this is Air Force flight Bravo Tango One Fiver requesting immediate landing clearance. Imperative land ahead of inbound security flight." "Negative Bravo Tango," crackled the radio voice from the tower at Edwards Air Force Base. "Joshua is closed until further notice." "Colonel," interrupted the scientist, "get me a phone line." "Doctor Chase?" This was the loadmaster Sergeant. With little to do in-flight he had stepped forward in the cabin area to assist the crippled scientist. The military were not known for their ability to comply with wheelchair access building codes. After patching into the aircraft's radio systems he was able to put in a telephone call. During this process, Chase's Blackberry chimed. "I am taking this call only because I have been ordered to do so." The voice in Chase's headset belonged to the base comander at Edwards, the hostile sounding Brigadier-General McColl. "Thank you for your time General, I realise..." "Get to the point Chase." Chase re-gathered his thoughts. If McColl would not even refer to the Doctor's title then he held no respect for the contents of this call. Chase would need an alternative approach. The scientist began fiddling with his Blackberry, forwarding the message he had only just received and the potentially frightening image within. "You do know we are experts on the technology wielded by the Transformer aliens?" "What of it?" "Is Edwards prepared for a Decepticon attack?" This made McColl pause. There was a rustling sound, presumably the General was placing his hand over the phones mouth-piece rather than press a mute button. There were a couple of brief muffled sentences then a rustling sound from the speaker. "What is the nature of the threat?" "I have forwarded to you an image from my Blackberry received from shuttle Independence. They captured images of shuttle Resurrection that you should see." Chase had seen the photos of Resurrection for the first time. The Japanese shuttle did not have the classic proportions of the Colombia class orbiters. It looked distorted slightly, and even chunky in places, as though something was trying to burst out of it at any moment. Its grey and purple colouring was also off-putting, giving at an unfinished look, like an Oldsmobile Cutlass yet to have a new coat of paint and only the primer was visible. "I have your image before me now. Are you implying..." "General, I do not believe this vehicle to be a threat while it is carrying passengers, but Binaltech believes shuttle Resurrection is carrying Decepticon weapons." The chill was palpable as the conversation went quiet. "The Decepticons are all dead." "How do you think a Japanese business consortium was able to field a space shuttle launching system, much less an operable space station?" There was a brief pause while the General considered. "We will clear you in, tell your pilot to standby for further instruction." Despite the gravity of the situation, Chase punched the air in triumph, but replied in a more subdued manner. "Thank you General. Binaltech out." "Doctor Chase, are we really in trouble?" The pilot wanted to know. It was not everyday a cargo plane flew into a potential fire-fight, maybe he was just looking for re-assurance. "I don't believe we are in any real danger, but these people have struck me as very efficient grave robbers." "Doctor Chase?" The Sergeant again caught the scientists attention, "We're getting some information forwarded to us about an apparently driverless red Dodge Viper reaching speeds approaching 200 miles an hour westbound on I-70. Utah Highway Patrol are asking for advice on how to stop him." Chase sighed. Airspace over California Flying westwards Same time Kenjiro Suzuki had been a senior pilot in the Japanese Self-Defence Air Force three years ago, commanding a squadron of F-15J Interceptors. He had the best job in the world, but a small personal infraction while off duty had been noticed by command and the next status review had seen it suggested that he should apply for command of the JSDAF's Operational Conversion Unit. The OCU took fast jet qualified officers and fine-tuned them for piloting the F-15 before turning them over to the operational squadrons. Suzuki flew much less often than he had, and just as often as not it was in the back seat of the OCU's two seat trainer F-15s. It rankled and was disrespectful of the experience and skill he had accumulated over the years as a flyer and leader of men. All for a nights indiscretion with a whore after taking one too many sakes at the cajoling of so-called friends with partners. Suzuki had been contacted by a group and been offered an astonishing new position. He could not retire from the JSDAF quickly enough and began training himself on the operation of Japan's first bold step into a new dimension. That new dimension had been astonishing in concept but in execution it had lacked. His nations first re-usable space vehicle had a very shabby feel to it. Upon closer inspection, it also looked the same. The crew ejection module had definitely been added as an afterthought. The vehicle itself was far from smooth in its finish and its paint did not feature the usual high-reflection white but instead had an unpainted grey and purply finish which did not look aesthetically pleasing or functional. Aesthetics were not his concern now. Since penetrating the atmosphere the radar threat receivers had chirruped constantly, an ever-present reminder that while the space vehicle was travelling faster than any earthbound interceptor could sprint, that attack radars, and their attendant surface-to-air missiles, were watching every kilometre Resurrection traversed. Resurrection itself was unarmed and he could do little other than do what the various air traffic controllers told him to do. Was this what life as an airline pilot was like? Airline pilot! Suzuki was going to be lucky if he did not spend the next decade in prison. Inoue, for someone who styled himself as a prophet, was doing very little in the way of forward thinking. He had screamed at Suzuki after his initial accession to Space Commands's threat of destruction. Inoue may want to martyr himself but right now the pragmatist in Suzuki, emphasised by years of pilot training, and the images in his head of those that had been left behind on the Watchtower, reminded the pilot of his responsibility to those aboard the Resurrection. Now that speeds had decelerated to approach speeds the Resurrection was attracting the attention of his former peers as first a pair of National Guard F-16 Falcons, then a pair of F-15 Eagles and finally a pair of US Air Force F-22 Raptors. Two that Suzuki could see. Space shuttles on approach to landing fields were effectively gliders, so any deceleration had to be achieved through atmospheric manoeuvres - descending belly first, using the tiled underside to slow the speed utilising its most un-aerodynamic profile through drag, and performing wide S-curves across the sky, and lastly large speed brake fins at the rear of the large double-delta wings. Resurrection had slowed as much as it could and as much as it was going to. Suzuki and his co-pilot gazed out across the desert landscape of eastern California. Edwards AFB, built right at the physical edge of the desert had several of its longer runways, including the one used for shuttle landings, extending off base for kilometres into the hard-packed landscape. Suzuki never once noticed Resurrection's pursuit and, perhaps through bureaucratic wishful thinking they were not informed by any of the air traffic controllers they spoke to. With its undercarriage down and its flaps fully extended, just a handful of metres from solid ground Resurrection and those it carried were fully occupied on the landing. A landing one had decided it would never achieve. The impact was terrifying, like the hand of God had reached out shook the shuttle as it approached the wide flat stretch of concrete that cut across the Californian landscape. Suzuki had only moments to react and did the only thing he could. Yanking hard on the strap he activated the ejection capsule and the rocket motors ignited, tearing the cockpit and crew cabin free of the Resurrection. The uncontrolled shuttle landed hard, collapsing its undercarriage beneath weight it should have borne. The craft slewed and briefly threatened to tumble but the wide thick wings kept the remains level. Before the horrified eyes of the onlookers an immense fireball engulfed the remains of the shuttle as something flammable combusted, tearing a large hole in the rear of the craft. A pillar of smoke formed, billowing skywards like an immense arrow pointing to the end of Inoue's folly. The ejection capsule crashed to Earth underneath a billowing collection of orange and white parachutes, the jarring impact barely slowed, so close to the ground was the ejection. Figures dazed, or unconscious from the impact, and weakened by the weeks or months spent in microgravity stayed in their acceleration couches, unable to move. All bar one. The very determination that had brought him to the point of godhood drove Inoue to his feet. Tearing at his space suit he stumbled shakily toward the hatch which had popped open the moment the capsule landed. Reaching the opening Inoue stared briefly out at the inflatable slide that stretched before him and he stumbled, rolling away from the last of his dreams, but committing himself to survival. God would not abandon him. This was the moment of trial. The testing of his faith. He would stand strong, he would survive and he would not give in to the weakness of his body. His destiny would not allow failure. Rolling to a halt at the base of the inflatable slide, he clambered weakly to his knees on the concrete of the ramp that surrounded the edge of the runway as emergency vehicles raced down the runway, rotating lights and wailing sirens announcing their presence. Another figure was closer. Staggering free of the inferno just a few hundred metres away was an enormous demonic figure. Scorched black by the funeral pyre of shuttle Resurrection, all trace of his proud golden livery gone it was all Sunstreaker could do take each step. Horrifically misshapen, large portions of his body distorted or melted by the heat and friction of his descent to Earth and the explosive impact with the shuttle, hatred and pain drew him onwards. "Inoue!" the voice was harsh and electronic, sounding like an extra from a 1980's science-fiction movie and sounding nothing like the proud, almost melodic voice of the artist turned soldier, Sunstreaker's phenomenal ego would not allow himself to succumb to his injuries. No human was ever going to get the better of him. "Inoue!" the charcoaled figure screeched again. The Japanese businessman stood rooted to the spot by the vision of hell come to claim him, the heat of the blazing shuttle, the wail of the approaching sirens, the fierce glow of Sunstreakers two cranial sidevents, glowing red hot trying to vent the superheated gasses from within a Binaltech frame that was consuming itself. All over the din of four jet engines in the background as a C-17 rolled to a halt at the end of the runway. There was a chance left for salvation. This godless abomination of a creature could be repelled. Inoue activated a control within his customised space helmet. "Delta Four, activate." Sunstreaker, heard an unexpected sound through the cacophony surrounding him, a sound that years of Cybertronian combat had attuned his senses to. The sound of imminent deadly danger. The sound of shifting plates and turning gears. Turning towards the blaze behind him, he could see the now not so surprisingly intact wreckage of the Japanese shuttle slowly gather itself and form into, of all things, a steam-powered locomotive. Sunstreaker snorted to himself and smiled a smile his face could not longer portray. Before his spark gave out there would be a chance for one final dance. The steam train shifted again, forming legs, a torso, arms, vaguely seeker-esque wings behind the shoulders. The figure stood shakily, grasping a sword in one hand that blazed with a Dinobot like flame from the coating of burning rocket fuel. Parts of the ghoulish figure hung lifeless from the frame, its flared, helmeted cranium sat awkwardly and drunkenly to its left side, as if unable to straighten. The exploded fuel tank left a gaping hole in its upper left torso and shoulder. Its first step looked as though it was one of those ridiculous string operated puppets. As much as those puppets were a parody of human life, Sunstreaker saw this advancing figure as a grotesque parody of the warrior he had once known as Astrotrain. That parody of a soldier swung its good right arm, and Sunstreaker anticipating with the speed he was capable of failed to dodge in time as his body failed to act in time. Slowed by injury, deformity and pain, Sunstreaker gazed at the sword buried in his side stupidly, refusing to believe he could be hit by this Frankentrain monster. Reaching back Sunstreaker flung a haymaker at the head of the Decepti-corpse that started all the way back in Arkansas and carried all the force the Viper could muster. The head sheared off completely at the neck and bounced twice before rolling to a halt. The Decepticon started withdrawing the flaming sword from Sunstreaker's belly, ignoring the plight of its own head. This was going to require some thought. Sunstreaker fought to suppress the rage that built up within him once more, as this human again sought to control a Cybertronian. This creature had no respect for life, or anything it did not perceive as life. For someone who claimed to be a saviour of his people the hypocrisy stank worse than... Sunstreaker recoiled briefly as venting gases from Astrotrain's exploded shoulder drifted across his olfactory sensors, giving Sunstreaker the perfect comparison for bad smells. He brought the haymaker fist around again and thudded it into Astrotrain's surviving breast plate, knocking backwards the Triple Changer and giving himself some breathing room. Astrotrain's torso was as thickly armoured as he remembered, but he also remembered he had to be more heavily armoured to protect the more complex mechanisms that complicated the Triple Changer physiology. An idea was beginning to form but was drastic to say the least. Sunstreaker reached for his sub-rifle, and trained it towards the grey figure and squeezed the trigger only to notice none of the charge lights showing and the barrel half-melted into a bent position. A swipe from the enflamed sword sheared the barrel off, leaving the weapon visually as well as electronically impotent. Dropping the sub-rifle, Sunstreaker bent downwards, and swept his legs beneath the demented behemoth, toppling the grey ghost to the ground, but at the same time his hip gave way as something sundered inside. Keeping an eye on Astrotrain he gazed around, realising he had rolled towards the still burning remains of the pieces that were not reconstituted in this... thing. It lurched to its feet and swiped with the sword again, repeating the same unimaginative move. Inoue had obviously little combat training, what technique there was was quickly predictable. The answer was going to be painful. Rolling clear of the swipe, he again flailed with a leg, tripping his assailant and placed his right hand into a burning pool of fuel and held it there as Astrotrain crashed directly on top of Sunstreaker. With his left hand he held the beast in place as it thrashed, the Viper using his legs to prevent the monster from gaining sufficient purchase to attempt to stand. Something was registering as someone shouting, but the pain from his hand was producing a roaring in his receptors that was increasingly swamping other sensory input. When he could no longer stand the heat he thrust his hand into the vented and exposed shoulder, using the hands heat to push through and destroy delicate mechanisms, severing neural connections from the control mechanisms to the actuators that controlled its movements. The thrashing ceased. Heaving the twice dead carcass from him, his left hand fumbled for the sword, prising it from the dead grasp, and he used it to lever himself upright. Standing, and in excruciating pain from a number of sources, he saw human help was approaching rapidly. Time was now short or he would be prevented vengeance. He staggered grimly towards Inoue, using the sword as a crutch. He had almost reached him when his motor systems started to short and his legs failed. A point of weak ground beneath the sword tip failed and it sank in the ground upsetting what balance remained. Unable to take another step the Autobot stumbled and fell, his twenty five foot length falling to within touching distance of the would be dictator. Sunstreaker extended an arm and reached out to touch the human who had sought to subjugate his will and place the mind of a human in control of his own body. "I am not your puppet human. The will of others is not yours to command. Never again." Sunstreaker opened his fist and the superheated metal of the Autobots hand closed around Inoue. The Autobot could not squeeze his hand shut, but he did not have to. The heat from his fuel cooked burning hand was enough. The last thing Inoue felt was the incredible heat and a realisation that hell was every bit as real as had been predicted. Despite himself he screamed as his suit combusted, and the body burned away and melted. Vehicles raced towards the scene. Human vehicles of all colours, yellows, greens, whites. Army trucks, fire tenders, rescue and recovery vehicles. Humans raced from the vehicles, medics, firefighters, Binaltech technicians, the distinctive wheel-chaired figure of Chip Chase appeared in the periphery. As Sunstreaker's vision faded he heard a voice, not with his audio sensors, destroyed by the torture of the last hour, but with the radio link, a mental transmission from his fellows and a shimmering red Dodge Viper, no, it was a Lamborghini Countach blurred briefly into view. The image held for a moment, the Countach approached but it faded in and out of sight like a phantom. "I'm sorry Sideswipe." His vision pixellated, slipped into monochrome and Sunstreaker crashed offline.
NOO - awwww man - Sunny can't go out like that - cuz then Sides goes out too... and dang - that was messed up - even Astrotrain didn't deserve to get used like that.
re reading it it sounds very similar to what the machination have done to sunstreaker in Devestation. i hope sunstreaker doesn't pass over. Mainly for Sideswipe's sake
Finally, an end to the journey. For the foreseeable future this will be the end of my continuing tale of fiction based on the Alternators/Asterisk/Kiss Play line of toys. For all those who've read, and all those who have felt strongly enough to comment, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thanks also to the Allspark owners and administrators for creating and running the vehicle for this story. And finally, a big thanks to my dear friend Dragontail, and my partner newsy891, for listening, editing, collaborating, for allowing me into their fiction worlds as they worked their magic on mine. I'm not taking a sabbatical after this, oh no, Tale Anew calls for tales new. Hope you enjoy those, and this. Thank you all so much. Chapter 21 - Regeneration "Sunstreaker is critically wounded. Most of his major systems are flat lining, and some of them are so heat damaged I'll need a suit to get near them." "The second C-17 has been launched but you will have to go with what you have. Sideswipe is still several hours away even driving as recklessly as he is." "His spark is pulsing very erratically, so I doubt I'll have further opportunity to talk." "Just do your best Doctor Chase." Reception Area Binaltech Facility, Nevada One Week Later The last time the Autobots had gathered together at the Binaltech facility in Nevada for a ceremony it had been in the pre-dawn darkness and they had gathered to solemnly remember those lost in the fight for the planets survival against the Decepticharge and Shockwave had since been immortalised in stone. Lining the footpath in front of the reception office of the Binaltech building were stone carvings, not bronze statues out of respect for the tremendous heat of the Nevadan desert, each six foot tall stood the mechs who had been remembered that day. Hound the explorer, staring towards a distant horizon. Windcharger the actor with his movie star smile, arms spread wide, attempting to magnetically capture something. Swindle the quartermaster, leaning casually, a slight smile one hand on hip. Prowl the strategist, serious, head turned slightly, carrying his rifle at port arms. There was a space. One had been carved for Sunstreaker, but his re-appearance in a new frame had seen it removed, and another stood in its place, covered by a shroud. A reviewing stand had been erected across from the Binaltech administration office, on which several formally dressed humans sat. Soliders mostly, in dress greens, blues or whites depending on service branch. The Governor of Nevada was there, along with the Secretary of State, acting in proxy for the President of the United States. The entire joint chiefs were present. General Barbera was there in dress greens, looking every bit the polished crisp formal soldier she was not, a detachment of her Joes as escort, unrecognisable in regular army uniforms. The military-civilian mix of Binaltech staff were well represented. Chip Chase, unable to climb to wheelchair unfriendly stand, sat to one side and was chatting to Wheeljack. The Autobots broke from their groups and formed up into two ranks alongside the reviewing stand. Conversation ceased as the Secretary of State walked to the podium set up opposite the reviewing stand where Optimus Prime was already standing. Optimus had said a few words to Ultra Magnus but had not spoken to the other mechs, although he had made a point of speaking to Dead End. Now seemingly restored, there was much the Stunticon did not remember of the last month. Wheeljack and Chip Chase had been very thorough in their examination of the black Dodge. They had declared him fit and aparently free of the influence of Decepticharge but neither could make a conclusive judgement. The Decepticon, whom he had not known previously, struck him as timid but ultimately good natured. Secretary Barton launched directly into his speech and Optimus gave it the bare minimum of his attention while he composed his own speech. The statues of Prowl, Hound and Windcharger had been confronting, reminding Optimus of what he had missed while he had been otherwise occupied. The responsibilities he had let slip, and the damage he had caused. This will be rectified. Secretary Barton finished his speech and invited Optimus to the stand. "When we came to your world we were refugees and explorers seeking to revitalise a dying world and this planet was a world devoid of intelligence, ruled by the genetic ancestors of humans. We found our races in collision when we did meet and we allowed our issues to dictate our behaviour here on your world, and because we, as a species, lacked discipline and respect, your species has suffered at our hand. Then when the very affairs that brought us here, took as away from your planet, we left behind technologies which upset the delicate social balance of your world. That imbalance saw the creation of the Watchtower. Cybertron is now recovering, blossoming once more now that we have access to resources for our reduced peacetime population. Our destiny is no longer here on Earth but with our home. We will spend the coming months cleansing the world of our influence. Mirage?" The gentle voiced aristocrat walked towards the podium. He had seemed old when he was young. It became an affectation he embraced and projected, giving his few words wisdom they did not always deserve. Optimus Prime had watched him grow into the age he projected. He looked thoughtfully at Prime for a moment then down at his hands. He had raised his hands in front of his chest and was tapping his left index finger against something unseen. "I lost something, some time ago," Mirage said by way of explanation. "I have had it replaced since then. Twice since then." Without further comment a long piece of blue painted metal appeared from thin air in Mirage's hands, carrying the upside-down advertisement for a French tobacco product. "This was in a secure facility at NASA. It took two days to get inside to liberate it. This should never have been yours." The blue Ford placed the errant arm from his past on the ground and accepted the heavy blaster offered to him by Optimus Prime. Without taking his eyes from his severed limb, the sniper fired at something considerably closer range than his skills were capable of. Taking a more careful aim he placed his right hand with the left and shot the arm again double handed. He added a further six shots to the first two, then handed the blaster back to Optimus Prime, who holstered it. The unrecognisable remains smoked echoing the product it attempted to advertise. Secretary Barton's Secret Service detail still looked seriously spooked, as if they were going to bustle the Secretary away at any moment. "We will however not abandon Earth," Prime continued. "We will establish an embassy, although access will be limited in the short term. Earth is now known in the greater galaxy, and at some point those races that we have encountered in the past will come here. In that event we will not leave humanity alone and friendless in the affairs of others, and they in turn will know the great honour of the friendship between our worlds. Our borders will not be closed, but the interests of Earth will best be served when Earth has the technological infrastructure to participate as a fully-fledged trading partner with Cybertron." Optimus paused and turned to look towards the stony heroes lining the footpath. "It is our lasting tribute to your planet that some of its greatest champions amongst us have been laid to rest here. Jazz loved the culture of Earth. There was something about the variety, the freedom, the celebration of life after some many years of war that liberated Jazz. He developed from a grim infiltrationist into a charismatic leader and innovative tactician," Optimus paused for a beat, "and into the Ark's unofficial morale officer. Each of us has a hundred stories, like substituting paint for the explosive charge in one of Wheeljack's experimental weapons or sabotaging the bridge of Megatron's base with confetti bombs. Shortly after we were revived in the Ark, Jazz taught me a lesson in leadership. One of the first human concepts he learned was the birthday party, and without any knowledge of what a birthday signified other than it was used to honour a single person, he decided to throw a birthday party for me. He locked the doors of what was cargo room three, which later became the recreational room and threw me a surprise party. Full of my own importance as leader of the Autobot Army I had reclused myself from the Ark crew, deciding it would not be good for morale for the leader of the army to show a personal side in their presence. When I had started to leave the party Jazz quietly pointed out to me that I was no longer a leader of thousands but a leader of thirty and that as a small unit commander I needed to get to know the troops working most immediately for me. Of those amongst the crew of the Ark, he received more media requests and received more fan mail than any of us, and loved back every bit of love sent in his direction. The phrase, larger than life fitted him well. As important he was as a soldier, it is his personality and insight I will miss most. Goodbye Jazz, may you find the role of morale officer unnecessary within the Allspark. Until all are one." The shroud shivered, and fell from the fourth statue, revealing Jazz, head cocked slightly to one side with a jaunty wave of his right hand. There were a few chuckles at the image. A group a rifles fired three times, the human tradition of the twenty-one gun salute. "Jazz always placed his fellow Autobots before himself. So it is fitting that we turn our attention to those he held in such high regard. All of us who were held in thrall by Inoue's influence have not displayed any lasting physical damage but we are yet to fully quantify the extent of our ordeal. Swerve, injured previously in Colorado is well on the way to recovery and is here with us today. Smokescreen has regained the ability to walk, and has begun determining how best to fleece the Binaltech staff at poker. Ultra Magnus has requested some personal time and he will be granted as much time as he needs. Of the Decepticons, Shockwave and Astrotrain are dead. Ravage could not be saved, but Rumble is recovering and will be incarcerated here at Binaltech. Dead End was the focus of much suspicion throughout this series of events, but I can now state to all of you that he has been exonerated of all suspicion and is free to choose his own destiny and has my complete confidence. Sunstreaker was wounded beyond recognition. His frame carried so much damage it was beyond repair. Binaltech's excellent staff, led by Doctor Chip Chase preserved Sunstreaker's spark and he has been restored to a new frame." At that moment a garage door beside the reception area rumbled open. A set of headlights snapped on and the harsh bark of a highly tuned sports car engine echoed from with the darkened room. To the applause of a larg portion of the onlookers a gleaming bright yellow Lamborghini Gallardo rolled out of the darkened recess. The golden figure transformed and stood, embracing the scarlet figure of Sideswipe, who had broken ranks to dash across to his brother. Optimus looked towards Sunstreaker as if inviting him to add a few words. The twin snorted dismissively and looked at Sideswipe. "Screw that, let's drive." The two warriors, golden and scarlet, transformed and raced by the reviewing stand caring not a whit for the dust cloud they kicked up. Not that Optimus expected anything else. Unnamed Mountain Rocky Mountain Range, Colorado Abandoned Air Force facility Three days later Daniel McLean loved working security. He was happiest just walking the perimeter during the night hours. The incident at Verdana Chemicals had placed him in contact with a number of military figures, and one of those had found him a job, not just working night shift but at a remote location, where he could appreciate the woodlands surrounding an abandoned Air Force facility in Colorado. He was tasked with preventing members of the public from getting access to military equipment within the site. McLean walked past the mouth of the tunnel that descended into the mountain behind him, and stopped when he saw a light within the tunnel. "Thompson, this is McLean, is there anyone inside the Mountain?" "Thompson, nope nothing in there, and there's no light, you just wanna excuse to pop inside for a look. Before you ask McLean, request denied." "Sure," McLean clipped the radio back on its lapel when the light inside moved. Placing a hand on his pistol holster, McLean stepped into the deeper dark of the tunnel. The light grew quickly and stepped up to a blazing blue-white intensity before disgorging a bolt of energy that knocked McLean senseless. His last thought before falling unconscious was that nobody told him to guard against anyone trying to break out of the complex. Into the late evening light a red Mazda RX-8 rolled past McLean before the rasp of the rotary engine spooled up and the sports car raced away down the access track, searching for a cross road to then find an interstate, and a future. The car zoomed away, leaving nothing but an impression of the car, and the sharp purple emblem of a Decepticon...
who was that? i know it must be Zoom Zoom but he wasn't a decepticon. Wildrider yet again or something else? reading this fiction has helped me realise what was missing from my BT Meister; his smile.
Nice! Thanks for finishing the story. It's actually taken me through 2 deployments in Iraq finish. Thanks for giving me something good to pass the time with.
Hey there, Falcadore! I'm glad to see you kept up with this story. It's been a long time since I've read any fanfics here (had a very busy year in 2007 and didn't have much time to spend on the forums), so I'll need to catch up. I hope you're doing well these days!
you guys are kidding right? I mean its an admirable writing effort considering that English is not his/her natural language but c'mon! (shakes head in bemusement)
I, for one, am not kidding. Falcadore created a great story for the Alternators which, aside from a few typos here and there, was well written and held my interest through all the chapters. In fact, there were a few Alternators that I wasn't going to buy the toys of and ended up changing my mind because of the story that Falcadore wrote around them. He's put together an interesting story for my favorite TF line, which had nothing official aside from the BT story. And I have one question for you, cybertron2000, what exactly do you think Falcadore's natural language is?
i liked it, the plot was well developed and the characters spoke to me how they did in G1. It also kept me coming back for more, i can't say many other fan fics have done that for meapart from PeteyNorth's g1 v2.0. it doesn't matter if the writer's primary language isn't English, it's all about the story being told.
What leads you to think that? Falcadore lists his location as Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. While it's true that doesn't guarantee his primary language is English, the majority of people in that region do speak English. Wikipedia's entry for Brisbane states that "Approximately 16.1% of households speak a language other than English, with the most common being Mandarin, Vietnamese and Cantonese." Not only that, but having read the majority of Falcadore's story, his writing shows no overwhelming indication of him having English as a second language. I've not only read Falcadore's stories, but have also communicated with him on this board in forums and PMs. At no time did I get the impression that English was not his primary language. I've seen many other posters on this board over the years with far worse grammar and spelling than Falcadore. My guess is that you haven't even read his stories and are merely trolling.
I can't claim to write to please everybody, but I'm certainly not going to go out of my way to slam someone in generalities, if you have a specific crit, let's hear it, if you are just indulging in a passion for taking someone down then don't let the door hit you on the arse when you leave the forum.
Another two installations into an sheerly awesome story! I demand a BOOK! if i was in a position to demand anything. Your writing skills and descriptions of events simply sucked me into the entire story. So, with zoom zoom.... is this jazz reincarnated? or an evil douple ganger? I mean we never exactly saw what happened to jazz. We only hear of Ultra Magnus carrying his white body out to prime. (always seemed a bit open) Great teaser.... i'm guessing this is an opening if there are ever more alts made? (I can always hope for both (new story and alts) right?)
There's no real harm in stating that it's Decepticharge. Leaving the story open for potential future development. Now, I'm pushing along with my G1 reboot and I have the genesis of a fic based around the Classics line and an alternate future G1 tale in which Cybertron is conquered by a third party and the resistance gets help from a fourth party in a cross over from another SF continuity.
