Butterfly's wings: Chapter 1
Nov. 2nd, 2008 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rosieknightTitle: The Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings
Author: RosieKnight
Rating: PG
Universe: G1 AU
Pairing: Orion Pax/Minos, Orion Pax/Megatron
Characters: Orion Pax, Minos (Megatron), Megatron, Alpha Trion
Word Count: 10, 225
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Even the smallest changes can have large effects. Just ask the Decepticons’ newest recruit – Orion Pax.
Slipping and sliding over the loose ground, the youth pushed himself onward. He ignored the damage reports and low energy warnings. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was escaping.
No matter how tired he was, no matter how much he hurt, he couldn't stop. His pursuers were right behind him, shadowing his every step.
A blast struck beside him, sending fragments of heated metal everywhere. Shards drove into the leg of fleeing youth, causing him to stumble.
The young mech lost his footing and slid down the unstable mound. A miniature avalanche of slag metal bounced off of his body, raising protests from sensitive areas and new urgency from the various warnings flashing behind his optics.
"End of the road, kid," one of his pursuers chuckled. "Don't worry. This'll be all over quick."
Blue optics wide, the youth still tried to scramble away. His fingers dug into the treacherous, loose metal terrain, seeking purchase and finding none.
Light glinted off the red symbol adorning all of his hunters’ chassis. The Autobrand – the mark of the Prime’s Guards and the Cybertronian Council – stared at the youth. A symbol that once meant safety and order now became an emblem of murder and destruction.
One of the guards raised a gun, the barrel aimed at the youth’s blue helm, “Any last words, kid?”
“Go to the Pit!” the injured mech managed to pant, fans whirring in protest. Either way, the youth knew, he wouldn’t last long.
The guard’s finger tightened on the trigger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a weapon discharge.
The youth flinched as the guard’s face left his field of vision. Then, darkness rushed up to envelop him and the youth knew no more.
He noticed the lack of pain – and thus, a damages list – first.
It makes sense, he supposed, that you didn’t appear before Primus with grievous injuries and in pain from those wounds. In fact, he felt… similar to the times he woke in a medical bay, not in the presence of his god. And, the idea of awakening in the Matrix just seemed… wrong, somehow. As if he needed to do… something before rejoining Primus.
Then his audio sensors re-boot and the youth found his explanation.
“…Status: Will be fully online within 10 breems. He is awake, now, but motor functions require more time to completely return. He will be capable of walking, at a slow pace, within 3 breems,” an oddly melodic voice commented.
Another voice replied, “Then the most logical course of action is to remain here. Lord Megatron wishes to speak with him.”
Megatron. He knew that name. Primus, everyone knew that name. Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons – the movement of Cybertronians who disagreed with the Council and the caste system. For nearly a quarter of a vorn, he and his friends eagerly followed the exploits of the Decepticons. Any information on the Decepticons, no matter how insubstantial was hungrily devoured by their ravenous interest.
He fought down a wave of grief at the thought of his friends. Ariel - who teased them about their interest in the political movement, though she listened to the news just as intently as the rest of their group, and Dion – his quiet and dependable younger brother, so often overlooked as Orion’s follower. They shouldn’t be gone. They should be here with him, not left to rust in the ruins of Tyger Pax…
No! He could mourn later; right now there were other things that required his complete attention. For example, he needed to respond to Megatron’s summons.
He unshuttered his optics. A quick glance around revealed a standard, if some what sparse, medbay. The two mechs standing by the far wall had to be the ones he’d heard speaking earlier, for no one else was present in the room.
The dark blue one’s visor and mask covered head turned towards him, causing the younger mech to nervously wave back. “Patient: Awake and fully functional. You may take him to Lord Megatron now, Shockwave,” commented the dark blue mech, the owner of the first voice.
In response, his purple companion – Shockwave? - moved towards the youth. “I will escort you to Lord Megatron now.”
“Ok.” The youth carefully slid from the medical berth, an odd mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through his circuits. Thoughts like ‘I’m going to meet Megatron!’ ‘Where am I?’ and ‘How did I survive?’ whirled through his head, making it hard to focus on the present. ‘No, I need to be calm or at least appear to be calm. It provided an edge for my creator in many tense situations. Surely it would do the same for me.’
Drawing upon vorns of memories of his creator’s behavior, Orion forced the emotions aside until he could speak and act clearly. Satisfied with his efforts, Orion spoke, “lead the way, please.” The young mech paused. “Shockwave?”
“That is my designation,” confirmed the purple mech. “Do not wander off. We don’t want you to get lost. Lord Megatron would not be pleased.”
Instead of responding verbally, the youth simply fell in to step behind Shockwave as they entered the halls of the base.
After a few breems of walking through nearly identical corridors, the youth was completely lost. How could the inhabitants of the base find their way, he wondered, when there were no obvious location markers anywhere?
Finally, Shockwave indicated a door. “Lord Megatron is through here,” he proclaimed, opening the door.
The youth hesitated for a moment. Then, leaving Shockwave behind, he nervously stepped into the room and the shadows near the door.
It’s a gym, he peripherally realized, his optics fixed on the spark-stoppingly beautiful sight in the center of the exercise room.
The silvery-grey form in the middle of the gym danced through the swarm of drones, each movement destroying at least one opponent. Energon, wires, and large chunks of metal soared through the air like a macabre rain storm unleashed by the silver mech.
After a timeless period, the mech fired a single blast at the last drone and turned to face the concealed watcher. "Enjoying the show?" came the sardonic question.
Orion nodded vigorously in response. "That was incredible, Lord Megatron." The awed youth stepped out of the shadows of the doorway. "Can you teach me to do that?"
Megatron's ruby optics narrowed. "You're the mech the Prime's Guards were chasing. Who are you, young one, to attract such attention? And without any fighting skills to speak of?"
The young red and blue mech shifted, nervously. "My name is Orion, Orion Pax," he answered, amazed at how calm he sounded.
"A dual name? Who are your Creators?"
Orion regarded Megatron for a long moment. "My Creator," he began, "was Alpha Trion, though - for my safety - I could not claim him as such. As for the reason the Prime's Guards pursued me..." Blue optics locked on red. "I can prove the Council lied. I survived the Massacre at Tyger Pax."
Megatron snorted dismissively. "I can do that as well. I ordered no such attack."
"But I can prove that there were no Decepticons at Tyger Pax," Orion countered, to his own surprise.
‘Why is so easy to talk with Megatron? I should be far more uncomfortable, yet…’ His thoughts trailed off. ‘Yet it feels no different than speaking with him.’ Orion broke himself from the long buried, but still painful, memories to focus on the silver mech’s response.
"So can any other survivor." Megatron headed towards the exit, but Orion's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"There are none. I overheard the Guards. I'm the only survivor."
“I see.” Megatron paused, a frown creasing his face. A long moment passed between them in silence. Finally, Megatron spoke again, “Very well, you may stay, Orion Pax. I will not have my army’s resources wasted on those who do not serve to the best of their abilities. As part of your repayment for my generosity, I expect to see you on the battlefield. The rest will be decided once we discover your strengths. Because combat duty is expected from all those under my command, you will learn how to fight. I will arrange an instructor for you.”
Orion dipped into a bow. “Yes, Lord Megatron. Thank you.” Orion’s spark practically danced with excitement at the thought of joining the Decepticon ranks. Ariel and Dion were going to be so… Orion’s spark seized in pain as he remembered – Ariel and Dion were dead, they wouldn’t, couldn’t be jealous of him. Orion immediately sagged under the guilt assaulting him. He’d forgotten. How could he forget their deaths?
Something of Orion’s internal battle must have shown on his face, for Megatron’s voice filled his audios with soothing words. “Orion. Whomever you lost, they’d want you to live your life and not wallow in your grief and guilt. You are allowed to be happy or excited – even when grieving.” When Orion glanced up at Megatron’s face for reassurance, he saw the ruby optics dimmed under the weight of memories. “I know that better than most.”
Orion blinked at the advice. “I understand, Lord Megatron.” A sad, wry smiled crossed his features. “My spark will need convincing, though.”
One large, black hand rested on Orion’s shoulder as Megatron added, “It’s an easy thing to say, but not to do.” Megatron gently squeezed the shoulder in his grasp. “Take all the time you need, Orion.” With that, the Decepticon Lord headed for the door and conversed with Shockwave in low tones.
Aware his future was being decided only steps away, Orion sought to distract himself from the conversation at the door. He glanced around the training room. One of the ruined drones caught his attention. For all the destruction Megatron unleashed, this one remained almost intact. Curious, Orion walked over to the drone and crouched down to examine it.
An irregular pattern of dents and punctures covered the drone’s armor. Orion frowned, thinking. Megatron had dispatched this drone by hand, so how had it been damaged to create such a design? Orion picked up the drone to study it in greater detail. One of his digits inadvertently slid into one of the holes punctured in the drone’s armor. It fit. Orion blinked and overlaid his free hand to another set of punctures. Ignoring the size difference, the pattern matched perfectly.
Shuttering his optics, Orion called up a memory file of Megatron’s appearance and known weapons. Fighting down a wave of grief, he accessed Dion and Ariel’s last gift to him. The Decepticon leader possessed digits similar to Orion’s own, only proportionally larger. This puncture patterns fit Orion’s own hand scheme, so…
Orion gaped. Megatron had pierced the drone’s armor with nothing but his digits?! The strength needed to achieve that boggled the mind.
Suddenly curious to find out what other secrets the drone held, Orion eagerly resumed his study. So engrossed in his pursuit, the young mech never noticed the optics watching him from the doorway.
“With all due respect, Lord Megatron, this plan is illogical and inefficient. Bringing this… civilian up to Decepticon standards is a waste of our resources. The same time and energy could be used to build and program more warriors.”
Megatron considered Shockwave’s argument. It was true enough. “But none of those warriors will posses the same understanding of the Autobot mindset that Orion does. That is his greatest asset right now. I’m sure other strengths will appear with time and training, Shockwave.” Megatron ran a critical optic over Orion’s frame. “Given his size and agility, I think placing Orion under the tutelage of a Seeker for combat training is the best idea. No other model type in our ranks shares those characteristics with him. Thundercracker will do nicely – less chance of a personality conflict there.”
Shockwave seemed prepared to argue the point further, but Megatron prevented him from speaking with a quiet command. “Watch.”
In the gym proper Orion began a slow and hesitant series of movements, each corresponding to an injury inflicted upon the drone clutched in his hand. The younger mech faltered a few times, trying to figure out the angle certain blows came from – the dents only told him so much.
“His balance is off and some of the attacks are from the wrong direction,” Megatron murmured. “And yet, he manages to recreate the fight.” A feral, hungry smile crossed Megatron’s lips. “Imagine what he’ll do with some combat training and a better understanding of tactics, Shockwave. He’ll be glorious,” Megatron whispered, optics glazing over at his own words.
A moment later, Megatron gave himself a sharp shake, shedding remnants of the fantasy. “I want him tested, Shockwave. I want to know his strengths and weaknesses and how he can best serve me.”
“You want him to take the officer tests?” At Megatron’s nod, the purple guardian sighed. “It will be as you command, Lord Megatron.”
“Good.” Megatron raised his voice. “Orion, come here.”
The youth stumbled, clearly surprised by the intrusion, but obeyed the order. “Yes, Lord Megatron?”
“Go with Shockwave. He will administer some necessary tests.” At Orion’s slightly panicked look, Megatron added, “Assessment tests. We need to know what your strengths and weaknesses are. How else can I use them to our advantage?”
Orion nodded. “Yes sir, I understand.”
“Good mech.” Megatron watched Orion and Shockwave leave, before striding back into the gym. Megatron stared at the drone Orion examined earlier, thinking. He knew the other Decepticons would question his decision to let Orion join. Pit, his reaction to Orion’s grief even showed the questioning was justified, but Megatron couldn’t find the energy to make himself care. True, he’d never comfort another Decepticon the way he had Orion. But… it was…
“Orion. Orion Pax,” he murmured. “How many vorns ago did I last see you?” Megatron laughed, his optics growing distant. He still remembered when they first met, back when Orion was a sparkling…
“He’s just a youngling, for Primus’ sake!”
A gangly silver youngling paused in his exploration of the comfortable receiving room at the thunderous shout as his sensitive head crest folded tightly against his skull. Someone was not happy, and it wasn’t the temporary caretaker assigned to his case after…
Ruby optics shuttered against a fresh wave a grief. Reconciling Gama Nine, his strong, smiling creator, with the lifeless husk in the morgue was impossible. On an intellectual level, he knew Gama’s form rested within that room – Pit, he’d identified it! But, his spark insisted on reaching out for its creator, ignoring the facts. Every time the attempt to connect failed, and every time it brought a wave of fresh grief.
The youngling shook his head violently, drawing himself from his thoughts. He would mourn later, when away from that interfering femme. She claimed she wanted what was best for him – ha! She thought he was a pile of worthless, rusted scrap. Not worth the effort of placing correctly or placing with a temporary family unit at all.
Though, the mech who’d shouted seemed to be taking an interest. Or, he was at least protesting the caretaker’s plan to dump him off at the nearest unskilled labor yard.
The young mech frowned. He was nearly ready for his final upgrades. Surely, it wouldn’t be too hard to find another way to his adult body and just… vanish. Leave his name and life behind, so that femme – and those like her – couldn’t find him and decide his life for him. And, until he was of age, the law gave her that right.
Something touched his silver leg, drawing the mech from his thoughts. He looked down, hunting for the culprit. Ruby optics widened at the sight of a small hand and its owner.
A red and blue sparkling, on the cusp of becoming a youngling, stared back up at him. “Hi. Who are you?” the younger mech asked.
“My name is Minos,” the older mech answered, almost by rote. “What’s yours?”
“Orion,” swiftly replied the sparkling. “You here to see Trion?”
Minos blinked. “Trion? Alpha Trion? This is his residence?”
Orion’s optics widened. “You didn’t know?”
“I…” Minos scrubbed at his face. “I’m not sure where on Cybertron I am.” He paused, trying to figure out how to explain his presence to the younger mech. “My creator isn’t able to take care of me anymore. Since my creator and Trion were friends, the caretaker currently in charge of me decided to see if Trion would want to look after me for a while.”
“Oh.” Orion thought for a moment. “Trion will. He’s nice.” Acting as if that settled the matter, Orion plunked onto the ground and requested, “Read a story, please?”
Minos’ spark melted at the plea in the large, blue optics. “…Sure. What do you want to hear?” the older mech agreed, sinking down to sit comfortably upon the floor.
A large smile lit up the sparkling’s face as the little mech scurried over to a crowded, low-slung bookshelf. “This,” squealed the sparkling as a book of crèche stories was thrust into the youngling’s black hands.
Recognizing the collection as one he owned and loved as a sparkling, the silver mech thumbed rapidly through the pages to his favorite story. “Will this one work?” he asked his smaller companion. At the positive chirp, the youngling began reading, “Once upon a time, on the planet Cybertron….”
The familiar tale wrapped around the two mechs, sweeping the outside world away. Only the heroes, the adventure, and the sound of Minos’ voice existed. Finally, the tale wound to a close with, “And they lived happily ever after.”
The sound of applause startled both youngsters, drawing their optics to a red and blue mech standing in the doorway. “Well read,” he complimented Minos. “You have a talent for speaking.”
Any further conversation between Minos and the new mech vanished under Orion’s enthusiastic greeting. “Trion!” Orion squealed, hopping off his new friend’s lap. “Come and meet Minos! He read me a story!”
Alpha Trion crouched down to look the sparkling in the optics. “I saw that. Can you introduce me to your friend, Orion?”
Orion nodded and tugged on the older mech’s leg. “He’s Minos. He needs you to watch him ‘cause his creator can’t,” Orion babbled and paused, face scrunched in concentration as he tried to remember the rest of the important information he’d heard. “He said his creator was a friend of yours. So, you gotta let him stay.”
“If he wants to stay, he may. I will not keep him here if there is some place else he’d rather be.” Alpha Trion allowed the sparkling to lead him forward. He offered Minos a hand, helping the youngling stand up. “I’m Alpha Trion.”
“Minos.” The silver youth paused. “You’re really going to let me walk out that door? I don’t have to stay here?”
Trion sighed. “Minos, if you want to leave, I will not force you to remain. I’d prefer it if you stayed at least long enough to finish your education and transition into your adult frame, but I can understand if you wish to be somewhere of your choosing or free from the system entirely. No one enjoys having decisions made for them, especially when the decision maker is completely inept.” He shook his head. “That caretaker’s actions provide a stunning argument for you being an emancipated minor.” He paused. “Either way, I’ll help you as much as you permit me. All right?”
Minos nodded, but paused. “The caretaker said I…”
“I don’t care what that- that femme said,” Trion growled. “She shouldn’t be in charge of younglings, if her plans for you were any indication of her ideas for properly placing orphans. It stinks of youngling abuse, and no creation of one of my friends will suffer that if I can help it.” He sighed. “My apologies, Minos, for snarling at you. You did nothing to deserve my reaction to her.”
“So…” Hesitancy laced Minos’ voice. “You would break the law to spite her?”
Trion answered immediately. “No. I would flout the law to do what’s right for you, Minos.” The former leader of the rebellion against the Quintessons paused. “Take as long as you’d like to decide. There’s no time limit for this sort of question. Until then, you are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of my home.”
Minos tilted his head down in thought. The safety Trion offered, the freedom to choose his own fate… It meant more than the older mech realized. It meant Trion considered Minos old and intelligent enough to know himself, to know what was best for Minos and his plans.
It meant everything.
Minos heaved a silent sigh. So far, he leaned towards staying here, but… his spark rebelled at the thought of replacing Gama with another mech – even Alpha Trion.
Orion’s voice interrupted Minos’ doubting thoughts, as the sparkling chirped, “Stay, please?”
Minos melted under the hope in those large, blue optics.
“Ok,” he told the sparkling, “I’ll stay.”
A soft beeping jolted Megatron from his recollections of happier times and he shook his head to clear out the last, lingering wisps of memory. He needed to focus on the present and future, not lose himself in the past.
Megatron checked his system to determine the reason for the alarm and nearly snorted in disgust. It was merely a message alert. He almost banished the unread message from his processor when the subject line caught his attention. Orion’s test results were available. Noting the time, Megatron snorted. ‘I lost over a joor to my memories. That mustn’t happen again. I can’t afford to lose so much time to the past.’
Megatron rapidly perused the contents of the message. Shockwave had the results awaiting Megatron’s attention in the Decepticon Lord’s office. Silver lips twitched into a smile. If Orion did as well as Megatron speculated, the young mech would soon join the ranks of the Decepticon officers.
Megatron hurried to his office; he needed to see Orion’s scores as quickly as possible.
After snagging the correct datapad from his desk, Megatron reviewed both Orion’s scores and the notes added by Shockwave and the other testers.
Overall, Orion performed well. There were a few areas below par, such as weapon handling and maintenance, but those were expected of an Autobot civilian. Megatron found a few surprises as well – higher than predicted combat and tactical scores.
In the comments about Orion’s combat skills, Shockwave wrote, ‘Although below standard for our ranks, Orion does know some rudimentary and effective self-defense. I recommend expanding on this base, rather than attempting to retrain his reflexes by starting him from the very beginning of any combat form.’
The notes focusing on the unexpected tactical skill held far more details. ‘Being a ground-based mech, Orion understandably lacks a real understanding of aerial combat tactics, but he shows an aptitude for unconventional ground tactics. Provide him with a standard order – guard this convoy to destination X, he will accomplish it in a standard method. If one provides him with only a goal – capture this city, the resulting plans are creative and effective. Sir, you really must watch his simulation. Orion’s novel tactic works excellently and intriguingly.’
Curious, Megatron pulled up the file. A few breems of a standard siege greeted him. He snorted. “What’s so great about thi…” Megatron’s voice trailed off and his optics widened at the sight before him. The majority of Orion’s forces kept the city’s defenders’ attention, while several small squads circled around the city to less defended areas, set up catapults, and launched themselves into the city proper. The city’s forces were caught completely unaware by the unexpected interior attack, allowing the squads to open the gates to rest of the Decepticon forces.
‘Impressive,’ Megatron thought, snickering. ‘And I must admit, the flailing motions the catapulted Decepticons make while in the air are most amusing.’
As he signed the orders enrolling the young mech into officer training, a thought crossed Megatron’s mind. ‘Orion will do well here.
~ 
~ 
Author: RosieKnight
Rating: PG
Universe: G1 AU
Pairing: Orion Pax/Minos, Orion Pax/Megatron
Characters: Orion Pax, Minos (Megatron), Megatron, Alpha Trion
Word Count: 10, 225
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Even the smallest changes can have large effects. Just ask the Decepticons’ newest recruit – Orion Pax.
Slipping and sliding over the loose ground, the youth pushed himself onward. He ignored the damage reports and low energy warnings. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was escaping.
No matter how tired he was, no matter how much he hurt, he couldn't stop. His pursuers were right behind him, shadowing his every step.
A blast struck beside him, sending fragments of heated metal everywhere. Shards drove into the leg of fleeing youth, causing him to stumble.
The young mech lost his footing and slid down the unstable mound. A miniature avalanche of slag metal bounced off of his body, raising protests from sensitive areas and new urgency from the various warnings flashing behind his optics.
"End of the road, kid," one of his pursuers chuckled. "Don't worry. This'll be all over quick."
Blue optics wide, the youth still tried to scramble away. His fingers dug into the treacherous, loose metal terrain, seeking purchase and finding none.
Light glinted off the red symbol adorning all of his hunters’ chassis. The Autobrand – the mark of the Prime’s Guards and the Cybertronian Council – stared at the youth. A symbol that once meant safety and order now became an emblem of murder and destruction.
One of the guards raised a gun, the barrel aimed at the youth’s blue helm, “Any last words, kid?”
“Go to the Pit!” the injured mech managed to pant, fans whirring in protest. Either way, the youth knew, he wouldn’t last long.
The guard’s finger tightened on the trigger, followed by the unmistakable sound of a weapon discharge.
The youth flinched as the guard’s face left his field of vision. Then, darkness rushed up to envelop him and the youth knew no more.
He noticed the lack of pain – and thus, a damages list – first.
It makes sense, he supposed, that you didn’t appear before Primus with grievous injuries and in pain from those wounds. In fact, he felt… similar to the times he woke in a medical bay, not in the presence of his god. And, the idea of awakening in the Matrix just seemed… wrong, somehow. As if he needed to do… something before rejoining Primus.
Then his audio sensors re-boot and the youth found his explanation.
“…Status: Will be fully online within 10 breems. He is awake, now, but motor functions require more time to completely return. He will be capable of walking, at a slow pace, within 3 breems,” an oddly melodic voice commented.
Another voice replied, “Then the most logical course of action is to remain here. Lord Megatron wishes to speak with him.”
Megatron. He knew that name. Primus, everyone knew that name. Megatron was the leader of the Decepticons – the movement of Cybertronians who disagreed with the Council and the caste system. For nearly a quarter of a vorn, he and his friends eagerly followed the exploits of the Decepticons. Any information on the Decepticons, no matter how insubstantial was hungrily devoured by their ravenous interest.
He fought down a wave of grief at the thought of his friends. Ariel - who teased them about their interest in the political movement, though she listened to the news just as intently as the rest of their group, and Dion – his quiet and dependable younger brother, so often overlooked as Orion’s follower. They shouldn’t be gone. They should be here with him, not left to rust in the ruins of Tyger Pax…
No! He could mourn later; right now there were other things that required his complete attention. For example, he needed to respond to Megatron’s summons.
He unshuttered his optics. A quick glance around revealed a standard, if some what sparse, medbay. The two mechs standing by the far wall had to be the ones he’d heard speaking earlier, for no one else was present in the room.
The dark blue one’s visor and mask covered head turned towards him, causing the younger mech to nervously wave back. “Patient: Awake and fully functional. You may take him to Lord Megatron now, Shockwave,” commented the dark blue mech, the owner of the first voice.
In response, his purple companion – Shockwave? - moved towards the youth. “I will escort you to Lord Megatron now.”
“Ok.” The youth carefully slid from the medical berth, an odd mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through his circuits. Thoughts like ‘I’m going to meet Megatron!’ ‘Where am I?’ and ‘How did I survive?’ whirled through his head, making it hard to focus on the present. ‘No, I need to be calm or at least appear to be calm. It provided an edge for my creator in many tense situations. Surely it would do the same for me.’
Drawing upon vorns of memories of his creator’s behavior, Orion forced the emotions aside until he could speak and act clearly. Satisfied with his efforts, Orion spoke, “lead the way, please.” The young mech paused. “Shockwave?”
“That is my designation,” confirmed the purple mech. “Do not wander off. We don’t want you to get lost. Lord Megatron would not be pleased.”
Instead of responding verbally, the youth simply fell in to step behind Shockwave as they entered the halls of the base.
After a few breems of walking through nearly identical corridors, the youth was completely lost. How could the inhabitants of the base find their way, he wondered, when there were no obvious location markers anywhere?
Finally, Shockwave indicated a door. “Lord Megatron is through here,” he proclaimed, opening the door.
The youth hesitated for a moment. Then, leaving Shockwave behind, he nervously stepped into the room and the shadows near the door.
It’s a gym, he peripherally realized, his optics fixed on the spark-stoppingly beautiful sight in the center of the exercise room.
The silvery-grey form in the middle of the gym danced through the swarm of drones, each movement destroying at least one opponent. Energon, wires, and large chunks of metal soared through the air like a macabre rain storm unleashed by the silver mech.
After a timeless period, the mech fired a single blast at the last drone and turned to face the concealed watcher. "Enjoying the show?" came the sardonic question.
Orion nodded vigorously in response. "That was incredible, Lord Megatron." The awed youth stepped out of the shadows of the doorway. "Can you teach me to do that?"
Megatron's ruby optics narrowed. "You're the mech the Prime's Guards were chasing. Who are you, young one, to attract such attention? And without any fighting skills to speak of?"
The young red and blue mech shifted, nervously. "My name is Orion, Orion Pax," he answered, amazed at how calm he sounded.
"A dual name? Who are your Creators?"
Orion regarded Megatron for a long moment. "My Creator," he began, "was Alpha Trion, though - for my safety - I could not claim him as such. As for the reason the Prime's Guards pursued me..." Blue optics locked on red. "I can prove the Council lied. I survived the Massacre at Tyger Pax."
Megatron snorted dismissively. "I can do that as well. I ordered no such attack."
"But I can prove that there were no Decepticons at Tyger Pax," Orion countered, to his own surprise.
‘Why is so easy to talk with Megatron? I should be far more uncomfortable, yet…’ His thoughts trailed off. ‘Yet it feels no different than speaking with him.’ Orion broke himself from the long buried, but still painful, memories to focus on the silver mech’s response.
"So can any other survivor." Megatron headed towards the exit, but Orion's next words stopped him in his tracks.
"There are none. I overheard the Guards. I'm the only survivor."
“I see.” Megatron paused, a frown creasing his face. A long moment passed between them in silence. Finally, Megatron spoke again, “Very well, you may stay, Orion Pax. I will not have my army’s resources wasted on those who do not serve to the best of their abilities. As part of your repayment for my generosity, I expect to see you on the battlefield. The rest will be decided once we discover your strengths. Because combat duty is expected from all those under my command, you will learn how to fight. I will arrange an instructor for you.”
Orion dipped into a bow. “Yes, Lord Megatron. Thank you.” Orion’s spark practically danced with excitement at the thought of joining the Decepticon ranks. Ariel and Dion were going to be so… Orion’s spark seized in pain as he remembered – Ariel and Dion were dead, they wouldn’t, couldn’t be jealous of him. Orion immediately sagged under the guilt assaulting him. He’d forgotten. How could he forget their deaths?
Something of Orion’s internal battle must have shown on his face, for Megatron’s voice filled his audios with soothing words. “Orion. Whomever you lost, they’d want you to live your life and not wallow in your grief and guilt. You are allowed to be happy or excited – even when grieving.” When Orion glanced up at Megatron’s face for reassurance, he saw the ruby optics dimmed under the weight of memories. “I know that better than most.”
Orion blinked at the advice. “I understand, Lord Megatron.” A sad, wry smiled crossed his features. “My spark will need convincing, though.”
One large, black hand rested on Orion’s shoulder as Megatron added, “It’s an easy thing to say, but not to do.” Megatron gently squeezed the shoulder in his grasp. “Take all the time you need, Orion.” With that, the Decepticon Lord headed for the door and conversed with Shockwave in low tones.
Aware his future was being decided only steps away, Orion sought to distract himself from the conversation at the door. He glanced around the training room. One of the ruined drones caught his attention. For all the destruction Megatron unleashed, this one remained almost intact. Curious, Orion walked over to the drone and crouched down to examine it.
An irregular pattern of dents and punctures covered the drone’s armor. Orion frowned, thinking. Megatron had dispatched this drone by hand, so how had it been damaged to create such a design? Orion picked up the drone to study it in greater detail. One of his digits inadvertently slid into one of the holes punctured in the drone’s armor. It fit. Orion blinked and overlaid his free hand to another set of punctures. Ignoring the size difference, the pattern matched perfectly.
Shuttering his optics, Orion called up a memory file of Megatron’s appearance and known weapons. Fighting down a wave of grief, he accessed Dion and Ariel’s last gift to him. The Decepticon leader possessed digits similar to Orion’s own, only proportionally larger. This puncture patterns fit Orion’s own hand scheme, so…
Orion gaped. Megatron had pierced the drone’s armor with nothing but his digits?! The strength needed to achieve that boggled the mind.
Suddenly curious to find out what other secrets the drone held, Orion eagerly resumed his study. So engrossed in his pursuit, the young mech never noticed the optics watching him from the doorway.
“With all due respect, Lord Megatron, this plan is illogical and inefficient. Bringing this… civilian up to Decepticon standards is a waste of our resources. The same time and energy could be used to build and program more warriors.”
Megatron considered Shockwave’s argument. It was true enough. “But none of those warriors will posses the same understanding of the Autobot mindset that Orion does. That is his greatest asset right now. I’m sure other strengths will appear with time and training, Shockwave.” Megatron ran a critical optic over Orion’s frame. “Given his size and agility, I think placing Orion under the tutelage of a Seeker for combat training is the best idea. No other model type in our ranks shares those characteristics with him. Thundercracker will do nicely – less chance of a personality conflict there.”
Shockwave seemed prepared to argue the point further, but Megatron prevented him from speaking with a quiet command. “Watch.”
In the gym proper Orion began a slow and hesitant series of movements, each corresponding to an injury inflicted upon the drone clutched in his hand. The younger mech faltered a few times, trying to figure out the angle certain blows came from – the dents only told him so much.
“His balance is off and some of the attacks are from the wrong direction,” Megatron murmured. “And yet, he manages to recreate the fight.” A feral, hungry smile crossed Megatron’s lips. “Imagine what he’ll do with some combat training and a better understanding of tactics, Shockwave. He’ll be glorious,” Megatron whispered, optics glazing over at his own words.
A moment later, Megatron gave himself a sharp shake, shedding remnants of the fantasy. “I want him tested, Shockwave. I want to know his strengths and weaknesses and how he can best serve me.”
“You want him to take the officer tests?” At Megatron’s nod, the purple guardian sighed. “It will be as you command, Lord Megatron.”
“Good.” Megatron raised his voice. “Orion, come here.”
The youth stumbled, clearly surprised by the intrusion, but obeyed the order. “Yes, Lord Megatron?”
“Go with Shockwave. He will administer some necessary tests.” At Orion’s slightly panicked look, Megatron added, “Assessment tests. We need to know what your strengths and weaknesses are. How else can I use them to our advantage?”
Orion nodded. “Yes sir, I understand.”
“Good mech.” Megatron watched Orion and Shockwave leave, before striding back into the gym. Megatron stared at the drone Orion examined earlier, thinking. He knew the other Decepticons would question his decision to let Orion join. Pit, his reaction to Orion’s grief even showed the questioning was justified, but Megatron couldn’t find the energy to make himself care. True, he’d never comfort another Decepticon the way he had Orion. But… it was…
“Orion. Orion Pax,” he murmured. “How many vorns ago did I last see you?” Megatron laughed, his optics growing distant. He still remembered when they first met, back when Orion was a sparkling…
“He’s just a youngling, for Primus’ sake!”
A gangly silver youngling paused in his exploration of the comfortable receiving room at the thunderous shout as his sensitive head crest folded tightly against his skull. Someone was not happy, and it wasn’t the temporary caretaker assigned to his case after…
Ruby optics shuttered against a fresh wave a grief. Reconciling Gama Nine, his strong, smiling creator, with the lifeless husk in the morgue was impossible. On an intellectual level, he knew Gama’s form rested within that room – Pit, he’d identified it! But, his spark insisted on reaching out for its creator, ignoring the facts. Every time the attempt to connect failed, and every time it brought a wave of fresh grief.
The youngling shook his head violently, drawing himself from his thoughts. He would mourn later, when away from that interfering femme. She claimed she wanted what was best for him – ha! She thought he was a pile of worthless, rusted scrap. Not worth the effort of placing correctly or placing with a temporary family unit at all.
Though, the mech who’d shouted seemed to be taking an interest. Or, he was at least protesting the caretaker’s plan to dump him off at the nearest unskilled labor yard.
The young mech frowned. He was nearly ready for his final upgrades. Surely, it wouldn’t be too hard to find another way to his adult body and just… vanish. Leave his name and life behind, so that femme – and those like her – couldn’t find him and decide his life for him. And, until he was of age, the law gave her that right.
Something touched his silver leg, drawing the mech from his thoughts. He looked down, hunting for the culprit. Ruby optics widened at the sight of a small hand and its owner.
A red and blue sparkling, on the cusp of becoming a youngling, stared back up at him. “Hi. Who are you?” the younger mech asked.
“My name is Minos,” the older mech answered, almost by rote. “What’s yours?”
“Orion,” swiftly replied the sparkling. “You here to see Trion?”
Minos blinked. “Trion? Alpha Trion? This is his residence?”
Orion’s optics widened. “You didn’t know?”
“I…” Minos scrubbed at his face. “I’m not sure where on Cybertron I am.” He paused, trying to figure out how to explain his presence to the younger mech. “My creator isn’t able to take care of me anymore. Since my creator and Trion were friends, the caretaker currently in charge of me decided to see if Trion would want to look after me for a while.”
“Oh.” Orion thought for a moment. “Trion will. He’s nice.” Acting as if that settled the matter, Orion plunked onto the ground and requested, “Read a story, please?”
Minos’ spark melted at the plea in the large, blue optics. “…Sure. What do you want to hear?” the older mech agreed, sinking down to sit comfortably upon the floor.
A large smile lit up the sparkling’s face as the little mech scurried over to a crowded, low-slung bookshelf. “This,” squealed the sparkling as a book of crèche stories was thrust into the youngling’s black hands.
Recognizing the collection as one he owned and loved as a sparkling, the silver mech thumbed rapidly through the pages to his favorite story. “Will this one work?” he asked his smaller companion. At the positive chirp, the youngling began reading, “Once upon a time, on the planet Cybertron….”
The familiar tale wrapped around the two mechs, sweeping the outside world away. Only the heroes, the adventure, and the sound of Minos’ voice existed. Finally, the tale wound to a close with, “And they lived happily ever after.”
The sound of applause startled both youngsters, drawing their optics to a red and blue mech standing in the doorway. “Well read,” he complimented Minos. “You have a talent for speaking.”
Any further conversation between Minos and the new mech vanished under Orion’s enthusiastic greeting. “Trion!” Orion squealed, hopping off his new friend’s lap. “Come and meet Minos! He read me a story!”
Alpha Trion crouched down to look the sparkling in the optics. “I saw that. Can you introduce me to your friend, Orion?”
Orion nodded and tugged on the older mech’s leg. “He’s Minos. He needs you to watch him ‘cause his creator can’t,” Orion babbled and paused, face scrunched in concentration as he tried to remember the rest of the important information he’d heard. “He said his creator was a friend of yours. So, you gotta let him stay.”
“If he wants to stay, he may. I will not keep him here if there is some place else he’d rather be.” Alpha Trion allowed the sparkling to lead him forward. He offered Minos a hand, helping the youngling stand up. “I’m Alpha Trion.”
“Minos.” The silver youth paused. “You’re really going to let me walk out that door? I don’t have to stay here?”
Trion sighed. “Minos, if you want to leave, I will not force you to remain. I’d prefer it if you stayed at least long enough to finish your education and transition into your adult frame, but I can understand if you wish to be somewhere of your choosing or free from the system entirely. No one enjoys having decisions made for them, especially when the decision maker is completely inept.” He shook his head. “That caretaker’s actions provide a stunning argument for you being an emancipated minor.” He paused. “Either way, I’ll help you as much as you permit me. All right?”
Minos nodded, but paused. “The caretaker said I…”
“I don’t care what that- that femme said,” Trion growled. “She shouldn’t be in charge of younglings, if her plans for you were any indication of her ideas for properly placing orphans. It stinks of youngling abuse, and no creation of one of my friends will suffer that if I can help it.” He sighed. “My apologies, Minos, for snarling at you. You did nothing to deserve my reaction to her.”
“So…” Hesitancy laced Minos’ voice. “You would break the law to spite her?”
Trion answered immediately. “No. I would flout the law to do what’s right for you, Minos.” The former leader of the rebellion against the Quintessons paused. “Take as long as you’d like to decide. There’s no time limit for this sort of question. Until then, you are welcome to enjoy the hospitality of my home.”
Minos tilted his head down in thought. The safety Trion offered, the freedom to choose his own fate… It meant more than the older mech realized. It meant Trion considered Minos old and intelligent enough to know himself, to know what was best for Minos and his plans.
It meant everything.
Minos heaved a silent sigh. So far, he leaned towards staying here, but… his spark rebelled at the thought of replacing Gama with another mech – even Alpha Trion.
Orion’s voice interrupted Minos’ doubting thoughts, as the sparkling chirped, “Stay, please?”
Minos melted under the hope in those large, blue optics.
“Ok,” he told the sparkling, “I’ll stay.”
A soft beeping jolted Megatron from his recollections of happier times and he shook his head to clear out the last, lingering wisps of memory. He needed to focus on the present and future, not lose himself in the past.
Megatron checked his system to determine the reason for the alarm and nearly snorted in disgust. It was merely a message alert. He almost banished the unread message from his processor when the subject line caught his attention. Orion’s test results were available. Noting the time, Megatron snorted. ‘I lost over a joor to my memories. That mustn’t happen again. I can’t afford to lose so much time to the past.’
Megatron rapidly perused the contents of the message. Shockwave had the results awaiting Megatron’s attention in the Decepticon Lord’s office. Silver lips twitched into a smile. If Orion did as well as Megatron speculated, the young mech would soon join the ranks of the Decepticon officers.
Megatron hurried to his office; he needed to see Orion’s scores as quickly as possible.
After snagging the correct datapad from his desk, Megatron reviewed both Orion’s scores and the notes added by Shockwave and the other testers.
Overall, Orion performed well. There were a few areas below par, such as weapon handling and maintenance, but those were expected of an Autobot civilian. Megatron found a few surprises as well – higher than predicted combat and tactical scores.
In the comments about Orion’s combat skills, Shockwave wrote, ‘Although below standard for our ranks, Orion does know some rudimentary and effective self-defense. I recommend expanding on this base, rather than attempting to retrain his reflexes by starting him from the very beginning of any combat form.’
The notes focusing on the unexpected tactical skill held far more details. ‘Being a ground-based mech, Orion understandably lacks a real understanding of aerial combat tactics, but he shows an aptitude for unconventional ground tactics. Provide him with a standard order – guard this convoy to destination X, he will accomplish it in a standard method. If one provides him with only a goal – capture this city, the resulting plans are creative and effective. Sir, you really must watch his simulation. Orion’s novel tactic works excellently and intriguingly.’
Curious, Megatron pulled up the file. A few breems of a standard siege greeted him. He snorted. “What’s so great about thi…” Megatron’s voice trailed off and his optics widened at the sight before him. The majority of Orion’s forces kept the city’s defenders’ attention, while several small squads circled around the city to less defended areas, set up catapults, and launched themselves into the city proper. The city’s forces were caught completely unaware by the unexpected interior attack, allowing the squads to open the gates to rest of the Decepticon forces.
‘Impressive,’ Megatron thought, snickering. ‘And I must admit, the flailing motions the catapulted Decepticons make while in the air are most amusing.’
As he signed the orders enrolling the young mech into officer training, a thought crossed Megatron’s mind. ‘Orion will do well here.
~ ~ ![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 09:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 09:39 pm (UTC)*Still* can't wait to see where this goes. *hefts her pom poms* Write more soon! Write more soon! Nasty headaches stay away and let RK... um...write and play!
*sheepish* So I'm not a very good cheerleader. Hope the sentiment came across?
no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-02 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-18 05:27 pm (UTC)