The Collector by G. Donaldson

...as Vortex probed further in the darkness, the beacon he was closing in on began to fade. He had come four sub levels below the surface in search of Onslaught and was now in danger of losing him. He came to a stop when the distance meter readout said zero. His night vision had been damaged in the scuffle earlier and he could see nothing that resembled the weapon trailer Decepticon. Tracking his fellow soldier to this part of town was dangerous as many other units had reported missing comrades when passing through here. He owed it to his commander as Onslaught had saved him from worse many times over.

The underground pathways showed clear signs of neglect and were home to fringe bots and empties. He sighed, then took a step forward when he heard a crack. The floor boards wrenched free of their bolts and Vortex plummeted several levels before landing hard in a pile of wreckage, a metal rod piercing his right leg. He gasped in pain but kept quiet as he did not know who it was who had set this trap. He glanced around, small rays of light from the roof of the chasm easing the blackness that surrounded him. Footsteps scraped along the floor above him and he looked up, unable to aim his broken cannon. He could make out two glowing red eyes peering down at him.

"Gotcha!" the Autobot cheered, swinging his fist in the air, "I think you make number five. I got the whole collection now!"

“By the laws of the Polyhex Convention, you can’t—“

Using both hands, the medium frame Autobot flipped an archaic lever. Reconnecting an old power system, the chamber resonated with a metallic groan. He looked down at the Decepticon and gloated, “Decepticons, a second rate species. You’ll serve the Imperium now.”

"What are you talking about, Autobot? I'll tear your processors out of your -" Vortex stopped when he felt the energy drain. He could suddenly barely move and his sensors popped offline one by one, but not before he could make out he had fallen on top of the other Combaticons. Onslaught's faded optics were at the top of the heap under his left arm.

When the blue Decepticon went offline, Bluestreak shuffled back into the hallway he had come from...

 

Downtime by G. Donaldson

“They’re just Sweeps. No one will miss them.”

“Alright. What are we playing for?”

“Winner gets fifty energon chips. Loser takes the junkyard shift.”

“Deal.”

* * *

As the lights slowly came on it was accompanied by loud clanging. The mechs in the confined space were rattled awake by the cacophony that the guard was making. They recognized the silhouette and started trembling.

“Wake up, you Decepticon empties! Today’s your lucky day! You’re going home!” Brawn announced as he raked a steel rod against the prison cell bars. As warden of the security force of Detention Center 198-4, he took great pride in intimidating the inmates. Today giving them hope he positively beamed at their desperation.

One of the prisoners approached the bars and asked, “Is there a ship waiting for us?”

“If there was, I’d be leaving. No. Getting off world is your problem. A treaty has been signed that you’re free. Let’s go.” Brawn unlocked the gate and directed the four Sweeps outside the facility. Two larger guards were posted at the outer door.

“Remember, you can’t fly for 5 kilometers or the barrier shield will knock you cold.”

“Thank you,” a Sweep said.

“Don’t thank me. Just go.” As the Sweeps meandered away negotiating the rocky downhill terrain in the twin moonlight, Brawn turned toward the larger guards. “You know the rules: marksmanship is key. Distance gets you points; 200 points per kilometer, misses deduct points. Two ‘cons per bot. I'm scorekeeper. Go!”

As the two Autobots walked down from their posting and shook hands, one bot took out his rifle and fired, offlining a Sweep.

The other bot took his hand away and asked, “What the slag, Mirage? That con’s not even a hundred meters away!”

Mirage smiled and looked him in the optic, “Just wanted to give you a sporting chance, Smokescreen. Besides it’s more fun if they’re running.”

“Standard kill; fifty points, Mirage,” Brawn announced as he sat down on a rock.

“I’ll take that,” he nodded and sat down to polish his rifle.

Smokescreen shook his head, “Arrogant bastard.” The moons lit the night as he got out his rifle and tracked a Sweep as it ran erratically. He started to count as it shrank in the distance. Steadying himself, he took the shot and the Sweep fell.

“2 kilometers makes 400 points, Smokescreen,” Brawn announced.

Smokescreen grinned, but he knew he needed greater points offlining the next one before it got out of range. He glanced to Mirage who smirked before returning to clean his rifle. Of the two remaining Sweeps, one of them ran a narrower path and wasn’t so evasive and Smokescreen tracked it. He squeezed the trigger as the Sweep disappeared behind a rock. “Slag,” he whispered.

“Missed shot. 200 points off, Smokescreen,” Brawn stated.

Collecting himself once more, Smokescreen concentrated. The Sweep was huffing along at a good pace now and the Autobot fired again. An astrosecond later it crashed to the ground.

Brawn whistled approvingly, “3.5 kilometers for 700 points. Total 900 points. Nice recovery, Smokescreen.”

Smokescreen holstered his disruptor rifle and told his opponent. “You’re up, Mirage.”

Mirage stood and calmly took position. He found the last Sweep and aimed his rifle, studying its movement. Leading his target a short distance, he fired. A tiny spark in the distance and the Sweep fell limp to the ground.

Brawn looked through his telescopic lens, “Cold, Mirage. 4.5 kilometers for 900 points. 950 total means you win again! Smokescreen, on your salary I don’t know how you keep paying this mech.”

Smokescreen flatly replied, “Gambling.”
_________________

Novastorm73 on deviantART

 

Geared for Inspection by G. Donaldson

Running through the corridors the armored Autobot raced to the throne room aboard Ark- Supreme Zero One. Reaching the gate, he asked the guards for permission to enter. They granted him passage and he entered the holy chamber. His crimson optics met those of the royal guards inside and he kneeled, looking to the floor.

The Autobot seated in the royal chair looked dismissively at the lackey before him, “Speak Prime.”

Optimus Prime raised his head to meet the gaze of his minibot superior, “Supreme Commander Huffer, it is an honor to be in your presence. As a lowly Prime I offer you my-“

“Blah, blah, blah. As much as I value loyalty Prime, your groveling makes my energon-processing innards churn. What do you have for me, you slaggin’ empty?!” He slammed his tritanium fist on the arm of the throne.

Startled by the Supreme Commander’s impatience, Optimus fumbled for the right wording, “P-p-please accept my a-a-apologies. Y-y-you’re gonna be late.”

“What?” Huffer growled.

“Up! GET UP!” Optimus howled.

Huffer’s optics flickered brightly. Disoriented, he asked again, “WHAT?!”

Gears rapped his knuckles on Huffer’s forehead. “I've been trying to wake you up for astroseconds. Prime’s here! He’s gonna inspect our ore levels! Get out of your CR chamber!” he warned.

“Oh slag,” Huffer grumbled. He wanted to return to the dream but his survival depended on his ability to focus on reality. Since arriving on planet LV-426 the Magnus had pushed every Autobot aboard Ark-84 to gather radio isotopes of a fuel more potent than energon. They were given a quota they were expected to meet daily but the Magnus was not very strict. As long as they were close to 80% he gave them a passing rating.

Things were different, however, in the presence of a Prime. A bot risked being offlined if they were below quota. As a less respected minibot the danger was still greater. Still a little groggy from the CR chamber, Huffer flipped open his Isotope Collection Encoder to see the readings from the previous solar cycle.

72%

His optics widened. Jarred by the reading, panic coursed his circuits. He looked over at Gears who had his back to him as he put on his hazardous work gear. One optic on the minibot, he flipped open Gear’s Encoder.

87%

Very stealthily, he quickly switched the Encoders just as Gears turned around.

Gears grabbed the Encoder from his side of the CR chamber monitor stand and rushed to the door. “Better hurry, Huffer. Prime won’t wait!” Gears warned as he slipped out to the corridor. The door hissed shut behind him.

Huffer jumped out of the CR bed and gathered his gear. Snapping his equipment in place, the charcoal gray Autobot with red arms, thighs and hood-canopy stuffed Gears’ Encoder in his chest mounted compartment and headed out. Transforming to his truck mode he accelerated down the hall and outside to where the other Autobots were posted. Changing back to robot mode he took his place in line.

Ultra Magnus announced, “Autobots prepare for inspection.”

Optimus then stepped forward and looked over the assembled troops. With only a Prime’s optics for detail he chided the Magnus, “Ultra, your crew is sloppy. If I weren’t so short on Magnuses, you’d be on the Rack.”

“Yes, sir,” Magnus dutifully replied.

The Prime went down the line, checking each bot’s Isotope Collection Encoder. Finally he reached Gears and he paused. He opticced the minibot from helmet to toe module and again at the Encoder before announcing, “Gears, your I.C.E. readings are below quota. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Shocked, Gears straightened his posture and looked directly ahead, “Sir, I thought my readings were above optimal, Optimus, sir.”

The Prime shook his head, “Gears, any Autobot worth his circuits would own up to his shortcomings. Don’t give me excuses you filthy slag.” He raised his right arm and back-handed the minibot, knocking him to the ground. He scowled at the green and yellow mech, “The Rack for you! May you never disappoint me again.”

The Rack was a humiliating and painful public torture device. Few survived it and the ones that did were irrevocably changed. Gears’ optics widened and he pleaded, “Please, Prime. Give me another solar cycle please.”

“Begging? Really Gears? Disgusting. You’re no better than a Decepticon.” The Prime looked to Magnus. After a moment of thought, he shook his head subtly and glared at the minibot. He gravely commanded, “Execute him.”

Magnus nodded and snapped his alloy fingers.

Huffer stood in line, a smirk creeping across his faceplate. He watched as two Voyager-class Autobots dragged Gears away. As the Prime approached to read his I.C.E. machine, all Huffer could hear was the panicked screaming of Gears as he faded into the distance. The terror of the small bot was silenced by two quick rifle blasts that echoed off the canyon walls. The only sound to be heard for the remainder of the inspection was the crunch of gravel beneath Prime’s feet.
_________________


Novastorm73 on deviantART

 

The Darkest Spark- Shattered Glass

The Darkest Spark by G. Donaldson from an idea by S. Reeves.

"Easy Decepticons. Hold your positions," Galvatron soothed over the communicator.

His laser rifle aimed into the darkness beyond the cargo bay entrance, Cyclonus had to fight the sensation that was causing his hands to tremble. He looked over at Scourge and quickly back, careful not to take his eyes off the blackness for more than an astrosecond. He squinted his optics to focus the available light and he thought he saw movement.

A scream in the distance.

Cyclonus tensed up immediately and tightened his finger on the trigger. “It’s him,” he whispered under his breath. From the area in front of him a glint of metal streaked toward him. Panicked, he fired his weapon erratically into the darkness. The black was intermittently lit by the muzzle flash and the flying metallic object bounced off his chest. Liquid splattered on his body and on his chin. He looked down to see the object was square.

Scourge gasped as he realized it was Skywarp's severed head. A terrible death to be sure as his mouth was contorted in agony forever. Scourge fired into the still air, screaming.

Cyclonus followed suit as did Thrust and Ramjet who were kneeling in front of them, arm cannons blasting into the distance.

Nothing. They ceased fire.

Searchlights revealed 3 Sweeps bodies offlined. Then a vehicle emerged racing toward them. A silhouette as dark as deep space. They opened fire again but the figure evaded all of their laser fire and grenades. Missiles sailed past him. It transformed.

SLICE!

Thrust was offlined.

CRACK!

Ramjet was down.

THUNK!

Cyclonus looked down to see an energon blade sticking out of his chest. His spark was pierced and he felt the life draining from him. He looked wearily over at Scourge who had slid to the floor leaving a trail of lubricant on the wall. His optics were black.

Slowly Cyclonus turned his head and saw crimson optics glaring back at him. He felt chilled. A mech was clinging to his torso, holding on by Cyclonus' winged shoulders, legs around his waist. He was black with goldenrod accenting.

The dark mech looked into him and spoke, "The optics are the window to the spark, Cyclonus. Watching you die this close is a bonus." He grabbed the energon blade and withdrew it from the Decepticon. He thrust it into the Con's optics as he let go and jumped from the Decepticon, somersaulting in the air.

Cyclonus fell to the ground with a loud clang as Wheelie landed on top of him.

"Decepticons die so easy, I think Prime sent me here to tease me.”
_________________

Novastorm73 on deviantART

 

August Writing Comp

AUGUST

And now, roll on August. CrazyLogic, who won July's voting, had the honour of choosing the theme for August's Writing comp. And the theme is...

Dino/Dynobots

It can be in any continuity, and focus on any one of them, even Paddles!

We've provided the character(s), you fill in the rest!

To register at the IDW forums go here- http://forum.idwpublishing.com/profile.php?mode=register&sid=74f965160dd433785f6e6c0dbd78cf2c


--------------------------------------

1. Completed pieces must be returned to [email protected] no later than 6:00pm Australian Eastern Standard Time on, 31st of August 2009.
2. Stories must be in either .doc or .txt format.
3. Stories must be no longer than 600 words long.
4.The title of your story does not count toward to your word limit.
5. Files are to have the following naming convention; Entrant name(IDW username) - Story Title. [I.E. Novastorm -Shockmate.doc]
6. Stories ARE NOT to be displayed anywhere until they have been posted on the IDW forums. After this, you are free to pimp your work anywhere you like.
7. All emails to [email protected] will receive a reply confirmation within 24 hours. If you have not heard back from me after 48 hours, please re-send the entry. I would rather receive it 20 times than miss it!