Totality

By
Lady MoonHawke
...Once upon a midnight dreary

“Mmmrphrurrumm?”

Sound was all she was aware of at first. There was conversation around her, but it had no meaning. It buzzed above her and around her, and despite her efforts, it wouldn’t resolve itself into anything meaningful.

“Mrrumrruph.”

Still nothing to understand. She tried to power up her optics for a better fix on the situation, but darkness abounded.

“Rrurmrrumph on-line?”

Finally! Something came through. They must be wondering if she was on-line. She wondered herself. Slowly she ran through a system check, and discovered next to nothing functioning. Where was she? She never came back from missions like this. What had happened?

“Can she be made functional again?”

Keep talking, please! I need time to figure this out. Better hurry, girl. Optics are down, vocorder’s out. Can’t move, either. No way to communicate that they’ll get. How are they going to hear me?

Pain from the injuries filtered in, filling her processors with reports. Wings bent from cartwheeling on the ground; more holes than she could keep up with from the flak that had criss-crossed the sky, and her energon tanks were losing fuel so fast she could feel it draining away. Nothing was functioning, nor would it without extensive repair.

“She’ll only function again with lots of time, effort and energon.”

“We have none of those to spare right now. Unplug the feed. We’re not going to leave her here half-powered.”

No! Don’t turn off the power! It’s all I’ve got right now, and I need it, and the time to-

Sound and sensation faded, and Raven spiraled into the darkness, screaming silently.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

This is someone else’s story, someone that I never knew.
This is someone else’s body. Am I getting through to you?
If you peel away the armor is something underneath?
if you look below for hidden treasure, underneath another layer,
Are you hiding underneath the skin?
Skin -- Oingo Boingo

Optimus Prime looked up as the door chime sounded. “Enter!” he called.

The door slid open on its silent runners, and a figure entered. She stopped before the desk and saluted. “Lieutenant Ekliptika, reporting as ordered, sir.”

“At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat.” He waited as she settled into a chair. “How did it go?”

“Well, sir. I was able to infiltrate the former Decepticon-held areas with ease.” She pronounced the enemy name as though it held a bad taste. “There are a few Decep deserters scrounging a living, but nothing worth worrying about.”

“Was there anything of value?” Prime asked.

“Most of the computers were destroyed or had been scavenged long ago. I did download all the data I came across, and I’ll upload it into Central Files as soon as I can, but I can tell you that most of it is so old as to be useless to our cause now.”

“Energon?”

“Not a drop to spare. There are enough mechs out there on the fringes to soak every last bit, and it comes down to fights sometimes to lick the dregs. Disgusting.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “A few weapons, but energy stores were dry. No one’s going to be using them for a long time to come, especially if the energon-pipelines stay sealed.”

“So in conclusion?” Prime prompted.

“No threat. They’re too busy trying to keep frame and consciousness together to even consider any kind of uprising.” A dark look crossed her face. “It would be worth going out to exterminate the bunch just to kill them, but they’re not planning anything we need to worry about.”

“Eliminating enemies isn’t always the answer, Lieutenant. I wish you would understand that.” He was silent a moment, considering her. “You didn’t mention any casualties,” he noted.

“You ordered a zero body count. I have never disobeyed an order of yours, Optimus Prime. I’d sooner cease functioning.”

“I know,” he assured her, “and I believe you. Your loyalty to my orders and the Autobots has never been in question. But your next mission, if you decide to take it, could take you somewhere far more dangerous than the scummy holes of a few enemy scavengers.”

“Where am I going, sir?” she asked.

“Let me give you the details first. Then we’ll decide if you’re going.” He paused as the chime rang again. “Right on time. Why am I not surprised? Come in.”

The door slid aside, and a figure was back-lit by the brighter lights in the hall, for a moment, nothing more than a silhouette. Then Razorsharp stepped into a pool of light.

Ekilptika’s reaction was immediate, overturning her chair as she jumped out of it. She backed to the wall and extended her blaster with rock steady aim.

Razor dropped into a low battle stance, one hand on her sword, waiting for the word from Prime to release her.

Prime was between them in a flash, blocking both of them. But it was Ekliptika he called off first.

“Holster it, Lieutenant! Lady Razorsharp is our guest here.”

The order hung in the air for a moment, then, slowly, Ekliptika brought her weapon down, willing it back into subspace. “I wasn’t aware we were keeping Decepticons outside of the brig, sir.”

“Stand down, Lieutenant. This isn’t what you think it is,” Prime rumbled. Then he turned to Razorsharp. “My apologies, Lady, if you felt threatened. The lieutenant is... spirited... in her defense of our installation.”

Razorsharp rose slowly and gracefully from her crouch, releasing her sword after a searching look at Ekliptika. “Of course, Optimus Prime. I am certain you mean me no harm.” She sank fluidly into the chair he indicated for her. “You asked me to come and evaluate some data?”

Prime leaned against the edge of his desk, unwilling to get too far from the two femmes. “I did indeed.” He looked over at Ekliptika, still fixed to the wall. “Lieutenant? Would you mind resuming your chair?” he asked, gesturing.

Gingerly, her eyes never leaving Razorsharp, Ekilptika tipped her chair back upright and perched on the edge, tension radiating from every part of her frame.

“All right. Now, if we can begin again, without the fireworks this time. Lady Razorsharp is a... Decepticon expert, let us say, and I have asked her to come to Cybertron from Earth in order to examine and evaluate the data you found in the abandoned areas.” Prime looked from one femme to the other. “In turn, Lieutenant, that data will be an integral part of your next mission. Do you follow me so far?”

Ekliptika nodded. “Certainly. I’ll turn the raw data over to you, and when you’re ready to give me my next briefing, I’ll be waiting.”

Prime shook his head. “Not exactly. I want you to evaluate the data along with Razorsharp. You should learn what she feels is important, how she sorts it, and why she keeps the data she feels is relevant. Now do you understand?”

Horror crossed Ekliptika’s face. “You want me to work with the enemy?”

“Lady Razorsharp is no more your enemy than she is mine,” Prime insisted.

“I understand her hesitancy, Optimus Prime. She has little reason to trust me, as I have little reason to trust her. But I can do the job you ask of me,” Razorsharp assured him.

Razor sat and listened to Prime outline his plan, her body relaxed, but her mind sharp and ready. Something about this femme stirred her empathic sense, but as for now, she couldn't tell what. And it was becoming very apparent to Razor that Ekliptika was feeling the same way.

Ekliptika still bristled in her chair, and Optimus Prime was getting tired of it. “Lady Razorsharp, would you mind waiting in the hall just a moment, while I have a final word with the Lieutenant?”

Razorsharp rose as gracefully as she’d seated herself. “Certainly. Hail, Optimus Prime.” She exited, the door’s hiss the only sound of her passing.

“Lieutenant, I want to be very sure that you are extremely clear on your orders. You are to upload that data, and review it with Razorsharp. You are to listen, really listen, to her assessment of it, and ask questions when things are not clear to you. You are ordered NOT to be rude, or offensive, or difficult, and you are to lend her any assistance she requires, such as is within the Autobot Code of Justice. Am I understood?”

She stood and saluted. “Yes, sir!” she responded.

He nodded sternly. “Very good. You can go now, Lieutenant.” He waited until she was near the door. “And Ekliptika?” She turned. “You could try to get along with Razorsharp. She doesn’t have all that many friends here.”

“Should she, sir? She is a Decepticon.”

“She is only the Lady Razorsharp,” Optimus corrected. “It’s all she needs.”

Lady Razorsharp, formerly of the Decepticon Grand Armada, leaned casually against the wall opposite Optimus’s door, waiting for the Autobot femme. Something about the femme tickled in the back of her mind. Something in her mannerisms, the tilt of her eyes, and the look on her face screamed ‘Decepticon,’ but Razorsharp knew she was the only former Decepticon currently working with the Autobots. Still, the question deserved attention, at some point.

She casually examined her short claws, deftly paring back one that was slightly ragged. When the door opened, she looked up, sending her small dagger back into subspace. “So, Autobot. Do you care to pick up where we left off, or shall we proceed with the mission?”

“I have a job to do, and I’m supposed to do it with you. So let’s get on with it.” She stormed down the hall. After a moment, Razorsharp followed her.

They finally stopped in Perceptor’s lab, where he greeted Ekliptika warmly.

“So you made it! Did you try out the device?” he asked excitedly. Then he saw Razorsharp, and his demeanor cooled. “Lady Razorsharp. Do you require something?”

Razor counted silently to ten in Old Decepticon, several times, before answering him. “Optimus Prime has seen fit to have me review her data,” she explained, as cool as Perceptor.

He glanced at Ekliptika, and she confirmed the story with a nod. “I’m working with her,” she admitted. “For the time being.”

“Well,” Perceptor said dubiously, “in that case, we can go ahead. Did you try it out?”

A smile crossed her face. “I did indeed.”

“And did it work?” he asked.

“We’ll know in a minute,” Ekliptika answered.

Razorsharp watched through narrowed optics. “May I ask about the details?”

The Autobots exchanged a shrug. “I suppose we can tell you. Optimus ordered me to answer questions.” Ekliptika stepped into a ring, elevated above a platform by four narrow supports. “I’m equipped with a sophisticated data storage system. But it takes some equally sophisticated machinery to get it back out again.” She kicked her toes into hollows on the platform, then snapped her heels down, in a move that rather reminded Razor of a sport from Earth called skiing, having seen humans strap sticks to their feet, then slide down snowy hills in an attempt not to kill themselves.

Ekliptika closed the gate and picked up a visor with a cable trailing from it to the ring. “Ready when you are, Perceptor.”

“How much do you have?” he asked, setting several instruments.

“A lot. On the order of 100 gigs, I think. Maybe a little more. After 80, I usually stop counting.” She set the visor over her optics.

“Now what will you do?” Razorsharp asked quietly.

“The data is deep in her subconscious. The virtual reality visor will allow her to access and transfer it,” Perceptor answered, so deep in the technology that he didn’t care who he was telling. “It’s extremely advanced.”

Razor moved to the computer banks. “May I view the data as it is retrieved?”

Perceptor flipped a switch, activating the remote terminal. “You can try, but it goes by at something more than a T1 rate. Most of it will be a big blur.”

Ekliptika tilted her visor up. “Can we get on with this? I’d like to recharge sometime this duty cycle.”

“Sorry,” Perceptor said. “Are you ready?”

Ekliptika grasped the directional guidance controls mounted on the VR cage. “Whenever you are.”

“Initiating now.”

For Ekliptika, the world went dark for a moment. The her sight slowly returned, though now she saw it in an odd pattern of black and yellow. She stared for a moment at the odd structures around her, then started her journey.

“How does this procedure work?” Razorsharp asked in a hushed voice, watching the Autobot femme maneuver the controllers.

“She is reliving the mission, in her mind,” Perceptor explained. “She’ll return to the same place she found the data, and retrieve the data again. But this time, as she is seeing it go by, it will be recorded by the visor and sent to the computers. Then it’s simply a matter of picking through the data to find what information is needed.”

“Can we see what she sees?”

“No. Security reasons.” He saw her expression darken, and hastened to elaborate. “Not because of you. The lieutenant may have been on a top-secret mission, or used secured methods to retrieve the data in the first place. There is no method by which we could take the journey with her.”

“Hmmm.” Razorsharp watched the Autobot another moment. “What will occur should she encounter any adversaries in her quest?”

“She won’t. She is entirely within her own mind, and there should certainly be no Decepticons there.”

Ekliptika moved stealthily through the ruins of Darkmount in her mind, ears sharp for any sound, though more from habit than any real concern. She was back, she knew, safe in the heart of Iacon, behind ring after ring of defensive emplacements. Odd, though, that there should be a Decepticon with her. A Decepticon who was not only permitted, but actively approved, at least by Optimus Prime.

She moved silently from shadow to shadow, enjoying the challenge, aware that any noise she heard would be hers and hers alone. She paused a moment to examine the shattered tower, satisfied by its stillness. She moved to step from the shadows, then froze when she glimpsed movement in the tail of her optic. She turned her head ever so slowly towards it, but saw nothing. She shut down power to her other senses for a moment, letting sight fill her processors, but there was no movement in the area now. Slowly she brought back the other senses, staying completely still until they had normalized, the ran swiftly for the entrance to Darkmount. It occurred to her as she flew through the door that perhaps the data was corrupted somehow, and that the corruption could be manifesting as some kind of sensor glitch.

She accessed the data quickly, watching as it flowed past, leaving her processors and filtering onto the disks Perceptor had prepared. Once the words “Transfer complete” flashed on the screen, she quickly shut down the system, then ran for the nearest stairwell leading up. Exploding onto the ruins of a landing, she quickly transformed, assuming the shape of a large Terran bird, a wedge-tailed eagle, from a place many humans referred to as “Down Under.” She had never bothered to ask exactly what it was “under,” not being terribly interested in the subject. She scanned the ruins again, her resolution high enough to pick out the cracks in the paving from disrepair. But there was no motion to be seen, and she sailed confidently on to Iacon.

Back in the city, Ekliptika released the controls and pulled the visor from her head tiredly. “Did you get the data?” she asked.

“We did indeed,” Perceptor said, opening the ring. “104 gigs, and some change, as the humans say. Well done.”

“Well done, indeed,” Razorsharp added. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to begin the review.”

“Well, I do mind,” Ekliptika snapped wearily. “It’s tiring, dealing with all that data, and I need to recharge. I’ll meet you back here in 4 hours.” She walked out of the lab on heavy feet.

Razorsharp looked when the door hissed open, annoyance clear on her face.

“You are 34 Terran-minutes late,” she pointed out.

Ekliptika collapsed into a chair nearby. “So shoot me,” she replied.

“Don’t you want to make some excuse? An explanation?”

Ekliptika shrugged. “Not really. It won’t make me any less late, so there’s really no point. And it will take time from getting this data evaluated.”

“That’s a strange attitude for an Autobot, I think.” Razor remarked.

“And you’re an expert on Autobots, Decepticon? I suppose they give lectures on the Autobot personality in the Decepticon Armada?”

“Maybe it falls under ‘Know thine enemy,’” Razorsharp suggested. “And I have had time to study you Autobots firsthand. You don’t seem to fit the mold.”

“Maybe your mold needs work. So what is going on with this data?” Ekliptika asked.

“I have already given it a cursory evaluation, in order to break it into categories,” Razorsharp began. “The information on this terminal is all corrupted, and so it can probably wait until last to be studied. Certainly, it will take a great deal of time just to rend some kind of continuity from it.” She moved to another station. “This information is all promotions, demotions, and other data that is so far out of date that it can hardly matter. There are some battle plans here, but you can find out more from any history data disc. This,” she said, turning to two terminals set back-to-back, “is something different. These files are the plans for the Darkmount fortresses, both the deserted one in Old Polyhex, and a new Darkmount. She traced a finger along the lines of one screen. “The Darkmount that was my home.”

Ekliptika studied the other screen, taking in the lines of the fortress she’d so recently invaded. “It certainly looks better on these charts than it did the last time I saw it.” She examined it more closely, tracing the exterior view. “This is wrong,” she half-whispered.

“What do you mean?” Razorsharp asked, drawn from her reverie.

“There’s a spire missing here,” Ekliptika explained, pointing to an area near the top. She picked up a light pen and quickly sketched in the missing lines. “There. That looks more like it,” she said, satisfied.

Razorsharp studied the work. “Yes. That is more like the way I remember it.” She didn’t mention that the memory came from a different life, or that the spire the Autobot had added was a pile of dust millennia old by now. “What do you want to do with these?”

“Print it out to oversized flimsi-plast, then Optimus Prime can look at them and decide what he wants to do. Do you want to cover the old data or the corrupted material?”

“I will examine the corrupted material. Some of it may be in obscure code, and you would only read it as so much garbage,” Razorsharp explained.

Ekliptika regarded her for a moment. “Why do you do this?”

Razor looked confused. “You were there. Optimus Prime asked-”

“No,” Ekliptika interrupted. “How does a Decepticon come to be a trusted agent for the Autobot leader? You must admit it’s unusual.”

“I am no longer welcome among the Decepticons,” she replied briefly.

“Why not?”

Razorsharp sighed. “It is a long story, and very personal.” She sighed. “Suffice it to say I am banished. There is no word in the Autobot language to adequately describe my plight.”

“Izsludinât,” Ekliptika murmured, the word rolling easily off her tongue.

Razorsharp looked up sharply. “Yes. Izsludinât , as you say. A punishment beside which death would be pleasant and simple.” Her optics narrowed. “Odd that you are familiar with the word. What of your past? Are you of two factions as well?”

“No!” Ekliptika stated with vehemence. “I have always been an Autobot. From my first understanding, I was an Autobot, and I will be an Autobot when my fuel pump fails and my processors go off-line forever.”

“So where have you picked up words from Old Decepticon?” Razor pressed.

Ekliptika shrugged. “Probably some bit of random data. I used to be surprised by the things I knew about Decepticons, but the more I run data back here, the less I think about it.”

“Perhaps,” Razorsharp said. She regarded Ekliptika carefully, trying to see more that what was presented on the surface. And deep in Ekliptika’s mind, deeper than she may even know herself, was something that to the Lady Razorsharp, felt dark, and oddly familiar.

Optimus Prime looked up from the sheets of flimsi-plast unrolled across his desk. “Are these plans correct as far as you can remember, Lady Razorsharp?”

She nodded. “I have made such corrections as I felt necessary,” she said. “There were several changes made between the time that these plans were drawn, and their implementation. However, they are now very close to accurate.” She was silent a moment. “I could not, of course, reflect any changes that have taken place since I... left.”

Optimus rushed quickly into the awkward silence. “Well, of course, we wouldn’t expect you to know about things you haven’t seen.” He looked from her to Ekliptika. “So, did you two manage to get along well enough?”

The femmes exchanged a look. “We are both still functioning, Optimus Prime.” Razorsharp smiled, a feral expression. “I have come out of missions in worse shape.”

Optimus nodded. “Good.” He turned to Ekliptika. “Lieutenant, I’d like you to wait outside a moment. I need to speak privately with the Lady.”

Ekliptika saluted and left quickly, leaving Optimus alone with Razorsharp.

“Will you have a seat, Razorsharp?”

“Thank you,” she said, sitting. “What did you wish to speak about?”

“Did you observe the Lieutenant’s abilities in the lab?” he asked.

“The data storage and retrieval? I did,” she replied. “It was most enlightening. Why?”

“I plan to send her to Mars,” he said flatly.

Razorsharp launched herself from her chair. “And do what? Strip it of data and destroy it? I will not help you destroy Darkmount, though I can never return to the Decepticons. I owe them a debt for my life, no matter how they may regard me.”

“Have I ever asked you to engage Decepticon forces against your will? I have no authority over you. I can’t order you to go, and I won’t ask. Darkmount is a great danger for you, and if you prefer to stay, I won’t think less of you.” He regarded her for a moment. “And I have no plans to blow up Darkmount, whatever you might think. I just want to know what they’re up to.”

“And you’re not planning to involve me in any hostilities?” Razorsharp asked.

“I’m not planning any hostilities whatsoever. If we know what the Decepticons are planning, then we can plan our defenses accordingly. Hellas, if word gets back to them that our defenses are stronger than they anticipated, we can head off hostilities all together.”

“You seek to prevent war,” Razor breathed, seeing the advantage in his plans.

“I hate war, and if the Decepticons would accept the kind of peace agreement I would offer, I’d gladly put down my gun. But I’m aware that those plans will take generations to effect.” He was silent a moment, thinking. “So. The lieutenant will have a tremendous advantage if you go with her. But it’s your decision, as always.”

She was silent, weighing the options. Though her children were foremost in her mind, she knew that whatever became of her, they would be well-cared for. And there was something strange, dark, and unpredictable about Ekliptika. Something that needed watching, especially in a place as dangerous as Darkmount.

“I will go. Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

Ekliptika pressed herself flat against the wall to one side of the door, Razorsharp doing the same on the other side. “Are we clear?” the Autobot whispered to the expatriate Decepticon.

Razor powered down her optics, letting her audio receptors take up the slack, filtering through the familiar sounds. “Nothing unusual in the vicinity,” she reported, bringing back the optics. “I still believe we should attempt a different entry. You cannot access that door without the proper code, and it changes every month. There is no chance I have the proper code.”

“Don’t need it,” Ekliptika replied. She pressed her palm flat against the keypad and narrowed her optics, concentrating.

Razorsharp could hear the chirping tones of the lock cycling repeatedly. Then they stopped suddenly, and the lock beeped quietly. The door slid open on its silent runners, and Ekliptika slipped through. “Easy,” she commented, waving for Razorsharp to follow. “Let’s go. I don't like this place much, and I want to leave as quickly and quietly as we got in.”

Razor stepped through after her. “How did you do that?” she asked as they crept down the hall.

“Electronic lock-pick. But it only works once on any given lock. Does that door have to be unlocked from the inside as well?”

“Yes. Prevents traitors from letting their confederates in. How will we get back out?”

“Worry about that later, assuming we’re still functioning.” She paused at a junction, looking around. “Which way from here?” Ekliptika asked.

“Up,” answered Razorsharp, after a quick glance at the surrounding area.

“I don’t see a lift-” Ekliptika started, then saw where Razorsharp was looking. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she whispered incredulously.

“No. It’s our best bet. No cameras, no sentries, no sensors. It’s perfect.”

“It’s the refuse chute,” Ekliptika protested. “Primus-only-knows-what is in there.”

Razorsharp shook her head. “It’s only data discs and shredded hard copy, not bio-mech waste.” Her optics narrowed. “Or are you afraid of a little waste? Aren’t you the great spy, able to slip in and out without a sound? Don’t you do what it takes to get the job done?”

“You’re a real pain in the tail-pipe, you know that?” Ekliptika sneered half-heatedly, opening the hatch.

“I’ve heard it before,” Razor assured her. “Of course, for most Autobots, it is the last thought of their existence.” Her smile was wickedly feral, the points on her dental plates showing.

“Oh, thanks a lot.” Ekliptika studied the inside of the shaft, looking for hand-holds. “This is going to be tricky,” she murmured. “How far are we going?”

“About 1000 yards,” Razor answered, unsheathing her claws. She sank them into the near-smooth walls, testing their purchase. “Adequate,” she grunted, then swung her body inward so that she was dangling from her hands. Then slowly, fist over fist, she started to ascend. “Better hurry, Autobot. Time waits for no one, not even a spy.”

Ekliptika braced herself against the sides and followed, creeping slowly upward, muttering under her breath the whole way.

Eons later, it seemed, Razorsharp finally halted her climb near a small access door. “Enough cursing, Autobot. We are just outside the main computer core, and your poetic expressions could easily give us away.” She slowly pushed open the small door. “No one uses this room to access the computer, though the main processors and storage media are here.” She scooted through the opening and waited as Ekliptika pulled herself through. “Remember to make as little noise as possible. There are guards at the end of the hall beyond that door. I will stand guard, but be sure to waste no time.” She moved swiftly to the door as Ekliptika found a terminal.

Ekliptika studied the screen, typing in a few exploratory commands. “I’m going to have to do this the hard way,” she muttered, clearing the screen. From her knuckle, she extended a slim probe, then slid it slowly into an interface. Data poured in, and her optics started to flicker, processing.

“What is this?” she whispered, changing the direction of her search. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no, NO!” She was shouting at the top of her volume, then ripped her probe from the computer bank, falling to her knees and clutching at the sides of her head.

“Be quiet!” Razorsharp hissed. “Do you wish to bring the entire Grand Armada down on us?” She heard running footsteps, but not from the hallway outside the door, but rather from the computer core behind her. She turned, blade leaping to hand, and was faced with Ekliptika rushing toward her. Shocked, she resorted to the only thing she could think of.

“Aizturêt!” she shouted, dredging up what she hoped was Old Decepticon for “Halt.” Ekliptika stopped in her tracks, and Razorsharp guessed she must have been correct. “I thought we were past this childish behavior, Autobot. And blasting me will bring the guards in here within microseconds.”

“Let them come, traitor,” The Autobot hissed. “They will deal with you as you deserve.”

Razorsharp’s optics widened in surprise, then narrowed. “Was this the plan, then? To hand me back to the Decepticons? Even if you collect the reward, how will you escape, with that Autobot symbol engraved on your armor?”

“I am a Decepticon, traitorous whore! Do not forget it. YOU have denied your Decepticon heritage. YOU raise the next generation of warriors in Autobot luxury. Your death will be a great honor to our people; a great wrong made right!”

“‘Our people...?’” Razor gasped, horrified. Then, as she examined Ekliptika carefully, the final pieces fell into place. The Decepticon expressions, the attitude, and the inner darkness were now surmounted by a pair of ruby crystal optics, identical to her own. However it had happened, in her mind, Ekliptika was now a Decepticon. “Who are you?”

“I am the Raven,” she replied loftily, though the blaster never wavered.

“That is not possible,” Razorsharp growled. “Raven was killed centuries ago. I saw her fall in battle, countless vorns ago. And you certainly bear the countenance of an Autobot, for all you protestations.”

“What are you babbling about, traitor? Explain yourself before I tire of you and eliminate you to alleviate my boredom.”

Razorsharp though fast, developing a plan. “I am undercover, you idiot! I am spying on the Autobots for our people.” She casually backhanded the blaster from her face. “I am the bheancoran to the Lord High Governor of Darkmount. Do you really think I’d turn traitor?”

“The Lord High Governor you served is dead,” Raven snapped. “Care to try again?”

Razor was still a moment as grief washed over her. Much as she had fought her former lord and master, she had loved him passionately, and the news of his death stung. “Then my eldest son is his heir, though he has not yet reached the Age of Choice. And I will serve as his Regent. Do you now accept my authority?”

There was absolute stillness for several microseconds. Then Raven holstered her blaster. “I will submit. What is our objective?”

“The data we were sent to retrieve is false, and will keep Optimus Prime and his accursed Autobots from discovering out true intentions. However, this mission is of the utmost secrecy, so we must extract ourselves from this base without being intercepted. Do you understand?” Razorsharp snapped, hoping the fly-by-night plan sounded realistic enough.

“I hear and obey, Lady,” Raven replied, saluting. “How do we make our alleged escape?”

“The entrance we used is now compromised, so we must devise a new plan to leave. Are you familiar with Darkmount?”

“I spent a great deal of time in the fortress on Cybertron. This, however, is not Cybertron. Are there enough similarities?” Raven asked.

“We will find out.” Razorsharp studied the dim room. “There,” she said pointing. “That is our exit from this room. From there, we will have to continue to formulate a plan, but we will be out of sight.”

Raven examined the grid-covered ventilation shaft overhead. “I think it will be a tight fit, but if we must remove ourselves surreptitiously, it is our best option. I think you should boost me up so I can remove the grid. Then I will climb in and assist you into the shaft.”

Once in the shaft, they quickly worked their way from the computer core, Razorsharp trying to discern what had become of Ekliptika, and how to control Raven.

“What is your last memory before trying to apprehend me?” she asked as they crawled.

“A battle.” Raven replied after a moment. “A massive battle on Cybertron. I was over enemy lines, trying to get data for Megatron, so we could make a last push and win the battle. I was distracted by something on the ground, and took so many rounds of flak I stopped counting. I fell, and blacked out. After that, I dreamed of voices, talking around me, about me. Then I fell back into the darkness, only to awaken stealing data from our own systems.”

“You have no memories between the battle and now, essentially?” Razorsharp probed. ‘Then how do you know about me, about the late Governor?” She could not bring herself to speak his name.

“I do not know. Perhaps the data I appropriated is corrupted and affecting my processors. Autobot spies in the fortress could have set a virus into the information to disrupt our plans.”

“Corrupting the false data we are using to distract the Autobots? That seems very convoluted to me.”

“What will we do upon return to Iacon?” Raven asked.

“Follow my lead,” Razorsharp answered. “You are assumed to be a lieutenant in their forces, known as Ekliptika. We will report to Optimus Prime, and you should tell him everything went as expected. Then the data will be downloaded, and we can meet after that to be certain the material will be accepted as presented. Above all, do not lose control of yourself and attacking Autobots. We will be deep in their territory and on our own.”

They paused at a junction, tying the horizontal shaft to a vertical one. Raven looked down into the darkness, then up.

“Which way now?”

Razorsharp examined the options. “Down, I think, and from there, to an outside duct.”

“I believe we should split up, Lady Razorsharp. The odds of one being found are less than two. The ship is on the other side of the planet, yes?” Raven asked.

“It is. Do you think you can make it?”

“I will be there. This shaft opens out at the top of the fortress. I will make my exit there and meet you at the ship.” She shifted quickly, taking Ekliptika’s distinctive form and swiftly winging her way up the shaft.

With a sigh, Razorsharp began her descent.

Optimus Prime didn’t look up as the chime on his door sounded. “In,” he called, trying not to lose his place in the report he was writing. He saved at the end of the paragraph and looked up.

“Well, good. I didn’t expect you two back so soon. At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat. Lady Razorsharp, please, make yourself comfortable. Were you successful on Mars?”

“We were, Optimus Prime,” Razorsharp replied. “There were no problems. I doubt they ever knew we were there.”

Optimus looked at Raven. “Lieutenant? Do you have anything to add?”

“No, sir. All went as we discussed. We encountered no Decepticons, and the data is safely stored,” she replied, hoping it sounded correct.

Prime was silent a moment. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead, then Lieutenant? I’d like to speak to the Lady Razorsharp.”

Raven stood and saluted, though it burned her to do so, and exited.

He waited until the doors were safely shut. “I hope you’ll forgive my bluntness, Lady, but what in Hellas is wrong with her?”

“I can only tell you what I believe, Optimus Prime. Somehow, your Lieutenant Ekliptika has been possessed by the spirit of a slain Decepticon assassin, Raven.”

Strangely, Optimus didn’t seem surprised by this pronouncement, just dejected. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“What do you mean, you were afraid?” Razorsharp asked sharply. “What have you done? How many other Autobots harbor the spirits of slain enemies?!” She rose from her chair, fingers clawing into the edge of his desk.

“Just Ekliptika.” He sighed heavily. “Please, sit down, and I’ll try to explain.”

Slowly, Razorsharp resumed her seat, tension singing in her frame.

“We knew about Raven,” Prime began. “She was the bogeyman of all the isolated watch stations. ‘Stay alert, or the Raven will get you.’” He chuckled. “Not so funny now, I suppose. She was shot down in a battle I’m sure you remember well, when you challenged Megatron. We didn’t find her until well after it was over, deep into our territory. We took her to a hidden base, and assessed her status. At the time, there were barely enough resources to keep our own troops functioning, so we basically did nothing. Then we went to Earth, and she ended up forgotten here on Cybertron. After we returned and liberated-”

“Stole-” Razorsharp interrupted.

Optimus waved aside the distinction. “I don’t want to argue semantics. After the Autobots gained control of Cybertron, we had the resources available, and frankly, we needed every troop we could get. So her systems were reformatted, and she was rebuilt into the Autobot Ekliptika, a reconnaissance and information-extraction officer.”

“A spy,” Razorsharp concluded.

“If you like,” Optimus conceded. “But my point is that Raven’s databases should have been erased. What happened on the New Polyhex mission?”

“We entered the complex with no difficulty, and made our way to the core. There, I kept watch while the Lieutenant downloaded the data. Then she turned on me, calling me a traitor to the Decepticons. I was able to convince her that both she and I are spies for the Decepticons, feeding you false information. So far, she has accepted this without too many questions. However, I do not believe she will accept this story for long, especially when the data we retrieved proves correct,” Razorsharp explained.

“Then we have to find some way to get Ekliptika back,” Prime concluded.

“And what of Raven? She is alive, or at least her mind is,” Razor protested.

“I don’t know,” Optimus admitted. “She is a danger to us as she is, and at the moment, we have no frame to store her processors in. Do you have any suggestions?”

“I do not know what should be done,” she replied. “But I believe an answer will present itself, given time.” She rose gracefully. “Hail, Optimus Prime,” she said quietly, then left.

Lady Razorsharp walked quickly through the Autobot stronghold, Raven at her side.

“Do you understand the procedure?” she asked the Decepticon spirit trapped in an Autobot frame.

“I believe so,” Raven replied. “I am to step into the ring, put on the visor and relive the journey. As I see the data go by, it will be uploaded to the central computers.”

“Correct. Behave as an Autobot. You are friendly with the scientist, but not fawning. Plead exhaustion when the upload is complete, and say you wish to recharge. We will meet later to decide what should be done next,” Razorsharp instructed. It felt good to give orders and be obeyed again, if only for a short time. “Honor to Deceptica.”

“Honor and glory,” Raven responded.

The lab door opened, revealing Perceptor, surrounded by his equipment. “Well, back again,” he commented. “What have you brought me this time?”

Raven blinked. “I... am not sure. I did not want to spend too much time evaluating the data. The area was extremely hostile.”

“Of course it was,” Perceptor agreed. “It always is. Lady Razorsharp. Are you evaluating the data again?”

“I would imagine Optimus Prime will request my services in that capacity again,” she replied.

Raven settled herself in the VR ring, feet locked in and visor on. “I am ready,” she announced.

“In that case,” Perceptor said, “we should begin.

Several agonizing minutes later, Raven lifted off the visor. “Do you require me for anything else?” she asked, voice shaking.

“No,” Perceptor replied. “Everything here is fine. An excellent job, as always, Ekliptika.”

Razorsharp waited, certain that Raven would explode. But she merely nodded and walked quickly from the room.

“Well, she’s certainly acting strangely,” Perceptor said, puzzled.

“It was a tense mission,” Razor commented, trying to deflect him.

“Yes, I suppose it was,” he replied. “Well, I have data to sort out. If you’ll excuse me.” Perceptor buried himself in his work.

Razorsharp left, following Raven.

She found her on the balcony of the observation deck, the same balcony Razorsharp often visited when she wanted to remember. Old Polyhex sparkled in the distance, reflecting the light of a thousand stars. Raven had settled on the wide railing, knees drawn up and head turned toward the former base.

Razorsharp stopped a few feet away and rested her hands on the railing, looking out at the same sight.

“I come here often,” she finally said, not looking toward Raven. “I like to see it, to know where I come from, to remember... different times.”

“What am I?” Raven asked abruptly.

Razor was silent a moment. “Truth? I do not know. I, too, lived a different life before this one, though I retain full knowledge of it. What do you recall before the last battle?”

“Missions, training, the Tournament.” She was still a moment. “Holding a gun to the back of Megatron’s head and telling him I would shoot him the next time he tried it.”

“You did what?!” Razorsharp gasped.

“He attempted to seduce me. I let him, just long enough to knock him down and threaten his life. He just laughed, and said if I was that good, I should fight with his troops. I became his pet project.”

“Other femmes were not so lucky,” Razor managed to get out.

“I know. I had great good fortune that day, and I have always been thankful. But now I have other memories as well; stealing data, true data, I’m sure, spying out Decepticon positions, killing Decepticons. I do not know what has happened to me.”

“Optimus Prime explained what he could to me. You died on that last mission. The Autobots found you, and gave you a new name, a new mission, and a new life. Now you must decide what to do with them.”

Raven rose slowly to her feet atop the balustrade. “I could fall, and have it over quickly. Perhaps the Autobots will be more thorough this time.”

“If you wish to take the cowards way out, that is certainly true. A true Decepticon would find another way.” Razorsharp challenged.

“She, the Autobot, and I must find some way to exist together in this frame. My world is gone, and my time over, but I do not with to die again.” Raven hopped lightly to the balcony. “Lady Razorsharp, will you help us?”

Razorsharp nodded gravely. “A way will be found for all to out of this with dignity.”

Epilogue

Razorsharp leaned against the wall outside the lab, waiting.

Explaining the problem had taken time, as well as formulating some kind of plan to preserve both Raven and Ekliptika. Now it remained only for Razor to see that her promise was kept.

The door opened finally, and she saw the Autobot femme come out.

“Well?” Razorsharp asked.

“It is well,” Ekliptika answered. She had retained her brown and gold form, but her optics were now a vivid amethyst. “We are still... working out the details, but we will soon come to terms.” Her optics took on a far-away look, as though she were hearing something faintly. “Raven tells me you were of great assistance. She... regrets any difficulties she may have caused you, on the mission.”

“I am pleased things are well for you, then.” Razorsharp turned to leave.

“Wait, please, Lady Razorsharp,” Ekliptika called. “There is one last thing Raven wishes me to say, and I share this sentiment.”

Razorsharp turned back.

“Paldies. From both of us.”

One finely etched brow went up.

“Then you are welcome. Both of you.”

*THE END*

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