29.April.06

The Beginning

By: Sinead  

~< Part Six >~

Altaire started with a simple move, and Awn’néad mimicked it perfectly. Steele watched the thirteen-and-a-half-year-old with pride. She was able to get a move down precisely on the first or second try. The best part was that when she did, she kept the movement with her and could summon herself to do it at any time, whenever she felt like it. She had even surprised Steele once, when she had done one of the most difficult moves that she knew and was quite effective. She took better to his style rather than to Altaire’s, which was far more elegant, and used parts of many styles all rolled into one.

“Cybertron to Steele! Come in Steele! Hey, is anyone in there?” Awn’néad said, walking up to him.

“Nh? Oh, my apologies. I was just . . .just thinking.”

“Wow. That must be a major accomplishment,” Awn’néad said, a gleam in her eye meaning that she was joking with him.

Steele laughed a slow chuckle, before replying. “You were probably wanting to ask me a question?”

“Yeah: Do you think that I can try to kick your butt?”

“Hmm. Is that an invitation to duel again by any chance?”

“What else would I be talking about?”

“Bring it on. You start in that corner, and I in this one.”

Altaire walked to the side of the arena and watched as Awn’néad and Steele began to circle each other. Steele broke the circle first. He leaped into the air in a flip, while Awn’néad sped under him. When Steele landed, Awn’néad thrust her staff at Steele’s stomach, but the Predacon blocked it and sent it flying to the other side of the arena. He advanced, locked his gaze with Awn’néad’s, trying to read each other’s moves in advance. Awn’néad narrowed her eyes, did three back flips, and ran the rest of the way to the bamboo rod. Steele stood stock-still in the center if the arena, his jaw hanging as he rested the tip of his practice staff upon the floor. Awn’néad laughed and walked over to him. “Guess where I learned that?”

Steele shook his head, still not able to speak.

Altaire walked over to the duo. “When you were out last week, I taught her. It took me months to be able to do three back flips like she did.”

“And it took her a week?” Steele finally croaked out. “She usually has troubles with your style!”

Altaire nodded.

“Phenomenal.”

Optimus watched Stormblend talk with Pyrofreeze outside. Awn’néad and Steele walked up next to Optimus, looked down, and she commented, “What’s the matter with Pyrofreeze?”

The Guardian shook his head and turned form the window. His voice was soft. “Wish I knew. Where’s Altaire?”

“She’s out looking at something with Cyclone. I have a feeling that they’re up to trouble again.”

“Is that good or bad?” Stormblend said, walking into the room.

“All depends on who they play the prank on, I guess,” Awn’néad replied as Stormblend walked off the lift. “What was the matter with Shorty?”

Stormblend sighed. “He’s been ordered to go on an interstellar exploration mission and he won’t be back for a year or two. He was drafted for his various known skills.”

“And he’s unhappy about leaving?”

The large bot nodded sullenly.

“And you’re also unhappy, because he’s your friend.”

Again, Stormblend nodded.

“You two will still be able to keep in touch, won’t you?”

“Yes, but we will only be able to write. No visual, no audio.”

“That just bites.”

Altaire was nervous. It was her first time, and although she knew him, he seemed to be a totally different bot around her. It was her first date with a new boyfriend. And, (surprise, surprise) his name was Steele. Altaire wondered what drove him to ask her out to just “get away,” as he had suggested quietly.

She met Steele by one of the stilts that held up Awn’néad’s house. When Altaire thought that she was nervous, she knew that Steele’s nervousness level was many times higher than her own.

“Nervous?” she asked, making Steele jump.

He looked around for Altaire, but only saw shadows. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, but when he saw that it was Altaire, he relaxed immediately.

“Maybe,” Steele replied, wishing that his mech-pump would stop pounding as hard as it was.

The two bots walked along the nearly empty street without a definite destination, just happy to be in each other’s presence. Altaire looked up at Steele, then asked quietly, “You haven’t been on many dates, have you?”

“To be exact, I’ve . . . well, uh, this is my, ah . . . first. I haven’t had time for them.”

Altaire smiled, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ve barely gone on dates. I simply don’t have the time, either.”

“With being a Guardian?”

“Well, no. When I was still in the B.S.C., I gave just about all of my spare time to learn and develop new tactics and techniques. You?”

“Finishing school. The arena. Awn’néad.  . . . And in that order.” He didn’t lie, but he didn’t tell the whole truth. Before finishing his schooling, his first responsibility was to raise his sister.

There was a silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. The two bots found themselves on the top of one of the tallest buildings in their area, looking up at the stars.

Steele looked almost shyly at Altaire out of the corner of his eye and let his hand drift to hers.  Altaire almost yelped with surprise when she felt something brush her fingers. Then she realized that it was Steele’s own hand. She looked at him, and took his hand gently.

Awn’néad wasn’t in the best of moods this morning. In fact, she was downright ornery. First, her laptop crashed, due to one virus or another. All her school documents were saved on that one computer. Leisure documents and activities were stored and accessed upon a better-running machine. Then, her bamboo staff that she used for her practicing sword, was sat on by no other than her faithful Guardian Stormblend, and splintered. (Totally by accident, I assure you.) Then, Steele came down with a nasty Cyber-cold, and was ordered to stay in bed for a week. Altaire had volunteered herself to keep him from escaping and to keep his temper from destroying his sanity. Then, Optimus came down with the same cold and Awn’néad said that she’d keep an eye on him. And finally, Cyclone broke his arm the previous week, and was whining about how much it hurt as he readjusted to it being fixed and tweaked up.

Optimus didn’t ask for much and Awn’néad was supposed to take a test that day, so she was getting in some extra studying. When Optimus was taking a nap as Awn’néad had directed him to, Stormblend came in.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Awn’néad held up her hand and said, “Storm, I know that you’re sorry about my staff, and I’m sorry about the way I acted. It was immature and childish, and well, I’m sorry.”

Stormblend smiled. “That’s okay, but I came in here on another matter. Your shift is up. So’s Altaire’s. Cyclone takes on Optimus, and I get Steele.”

“Ooh, lucky you.”

“Now, now, none of that,” Stormblend said, smiling slowly.

“Oh, alright. If you do so insist.”

“But I do!”

Awn’néad laughed, walked out of Optimus’ quarters, and almost ran into Steele.

“Oh, no you don’t, Steele. C’mon, back to your bed. Now,” Awn’néad ordered.

“It id by dut-dy ad Gardeen tuh keeb ad eye on ’ou.”

“True, but that only applies when you’re well and healthy. Physically. You’ve gotten away with being mentally unsound for all this time so far,” Awn’néad said, taking his arm gently and leading him back to his quarters slowly. He wasn’t being very cooperative.

“Bud, I said dat I-”

“Steele, I know that you want to help out and all, but you can’t. Once you’re over this Cyber-cold, I can promise you that we’ll get in trouble again with Optimus. As it is, you’re in enough trouble already.”

“Wid who?”

“Me. And if you don’t get into your quarters, and lie down now, I’ll have to get Storm. I’m serious.”

Steele sighed and allowed Awn’néad to help him into his bed. Right before she was about to leave, he said, “Don’ tell Storm. ’E’ll-”

“Would you rather me take part of his shift?”

Steele nodded gratefully, and Awn’néad called down the hall for Stormblend. When he arrived at Steele’s door, Awn’néad whispered, “I’ll watch him until he falls asleep. Then, it’s your turn. Tell Altaire that I’ll meet her in the cafeteria in about a half-hour.”

“Yes, ma’am. Any other orders?”

“Yeah,” Awn’néad said, laughing. “Stop mocking me.”

Stormblend chuckled and walked down the hall to find Altaire, while Awn’néad sat down next to Steele’s bed. “If you want, I’ll teach you how to do that new move that I just learned from Altaire. You seemed to trip over your lower jaw when I preformed it.”

“Now?”

“Are you serious? And disobey direct orders to keep you in bed from Storm? I don’t think so, buddy. I’m talking about when you’re better.”

Altaire peeked into the room and watched Awn’néad and Steele talking to each other about different battle moves. And as she watched, she realized how Awn’néad got Optimus to sleep. She kept her eyes half open, as if trying to remember something, but that seemed to trigger the other person to start feeling sleepy, or sluggish, at least. Her voice was low and melodic, and her actions slow and measured. Altaire saw Steele’s optics dim little by little, but he kept trying to fight sleep. And that was one of the only battles that he lost.

Awn’néad stood up and pulled the already-low shades lower, so that Cybertron’s setting sun wouldn’t wake Steele. She then turned toward the door, and saw Altaire. The two looked at Steele, then back at each other, sharing a look that could be translated into “Aww, how cute!”

The two friends could barely contain their laughter, and tears were trickling  from Awn’néad’s eyes as she waved down the hall for Stormblend to come and take over. As the duo reached the cafeteria, they burst out laughing. All the heads of the trainees looked at them, forgetting their conversations immediately when they saw the spectacle. That only made Awn’néad and Altaire laugh harder.

Their laughing ceased altogether when they saw an enormous being rise up at the other side of the cafeteria. Altaire had only heard of this almost-mythical Cybertronian. She had most certainly never met him. On the other hand, Awn’néad had met him numerous times and always looked forward to meeting him again.

“Depth Charge!” she cried happily, and ran over to meet him.

Altaire kept at a respectful distance until Awn’néad motioned for her to come closer. When she did, she noticed that Depth Charge was at least three times her size, and was many times stronger.

“Altaire, this is Depth Charge. He was my mother’s Head Guardian.”

“Hi,” Altaire managed to breathe out.

“You seem intimidated by my size,” Depth Charge said, his optics smiling. “Figures. It’s typical.”

“Uh, um, well,” Altaire tried to start, chuckling lightly, but Depth Charge held up his hand, then turned and walked out of the Cafeteria. Awn’néad and Altaire were right on his heels. The went to a conference room and Awn’néad told Depth Charge what had happened over the past three months since they’d seen each other last.

“So what are you doing here?” Awn’néad asked at last.

“I heard that a couple people were feeling low, so I decided to see if I could help out a little around here. You and Prime left me that standing offer, so I decided to take it up with you.”

An explosion, then a cry of rage interrupted Awn’néad before she could answer. Instead, she raced down the halls to find the source, and saw Stormblend with his mouth hanging open like a guppy.

“What happened?” she demanded, looking and walking around.

Stormblend didn’t answer, but just pointed to where the wall should have been. Now, there was only a gaping, open hole.

“Sweet Primus,” Depth Charge whispered, moving closer to inspect the desolation. He hadn’t seen anything like this since Sinead had just turned thirteen and there had been an attempt upon her life; the shock-wave nearly ruined her ears.

“Where’s Steele?” Altaire asked, her eyes wide.

“He’s over here,” Awn’néad answered, just starting to support both Steele and Optimus.

Altaire walked over to them, and offered to help Steele. He accepted, and leaned gladly on Altaire. Optimus saw Depth Charge and said weakly, “Nice surprise seeing you here.”

“You know who did this?” Depth Charge asked quietly, looking for the usual calling cards of one of the two major terrorist groups.

Optimus sighed and shook his head. “Whoever he was, he was trying to kill Awn’néad. Her room is right above where these ones were.”

Depth Charge snarled a name that sent shivers up Awn’néad’s spine.

“Megatron. . .”

Nobody was really able to sleep that night, and nobody really wanted to for fear that Megatron would return to finish the job that he had started. Awn’néad was unusually distressed, and one could tell this because the thirteen-year-old was sitting in a curled-up fashion on Steele’s lap. He seemed to have recovered at an almost phenomenal rate. She was formally on Optimus’, but he was feeling better than Steele, and was investigating further into the blast. Altaire was standing over by Depth Charge, and the two were talking on what type of explosive. The older Maximal was distracting himself from the fact that this was eerily familiar from the blast from before. They suddenly got into a heated discussion over which one was used, when a squeaky-ish voice piped up, “’Ya ’re both wrong!”

“Huh?” Altaire said, looking for the owner. Who was it, but none other than Pyrofreeze.

Stormblend embraced his friend, and asked, “Why are you still here? I thought that your ship left last week!”

“It did,” Pyrofreeze replied. “But I caught one slaggin’ Cybuh-cold, an’ was laid out for a few days.”

“Looks like you passed it on,” Stormblend said, indicating Optimus Prime and Steele. “They caught it, too. So tell me, Master Pyro Technician: What was the substance that was used?”

“Heh-HEH! So simple! It was a compound of a little sulfuric acid, nitro-glycerin, an’ a lotta good ol’ black gunpowder.”

“Sulfuric acid? Nitro-glycerin?” Optimus asked, coming over. “But I thought that you could only get that on Earth!”

“’Ya can. But ’ya can also get it on da defense moon Rodimus, around Base Xaverimus. Been dere, an’ I don’ wanna go back,” Pyrofreeze spilled, a worried look on his face. “Ev’ryun who comes an’ leaves is practically strip-searched. Nuthin’ gets by dose guards. Dey don’ even take bribes from da ‘best’ of ladies. You know da kind. An’ dere’s no way ta sneak in.”

“Don’t tell me,” Altaire asked sarcastically. “You’ve tried.”

“Actually . . . no. I’ve only known da poor freak-bots who’ve tried. I had been called in ta help wid a different ballistics case.”

“And there’s no way  how someone could have gotten some off of Earth,” Depth Charge said. “I’ve worked there for the last four years. They search you as if there’s no tomorrow on both your way in and your way out. Same as Moon Rodimus.”

“There wouldn’t be an Earth if someone who wanted to destroy the Peace Delegation got a buncha nukes and blew them up on the major cities,” Electra said, folding her arms across her chest. “That’s what this is leading to, isn’t it. Sinead started the Delegation almost twenty years ago, and continued to work upon it until . . .” Shaking her head, Electra moved on. “What I’m trying to say is that remember that Awn’néad’s just been approached by the people who her mother worked with, to see if she was open to the idea of taking her mother’s place with them, whenever she felt she was ready and able to.”

“They’d target Tokyo, Washington D.C., Vancouver, Dublin, London, Cairo, Paris, and so on, until the remaining human leaders would surrender and become no more than slaves,” Stormblend added. “Those are the main branches of the Delegation.”

Awn’néad listened to what the older bots were saying, but didn’t want to say anything. Nobody expected her to. She has now been faced with the true killer of her mother. The brains behind the Protoform ‘X’ incident. And there was nothing that she could do about it.

“Awn’néad,” a voice called through her slumber. It sounded almost like . . .

Awn’néad opened her eyes with a start and sat straight up, almost colliding with Altaire. She was breathing hard, as if from running a race, and her heart was pounding.

“Are you all right?” Altaire asked, putting her hand on Awn’néad’s back.

Awn’néad nodded, lay back, and shuddered. When she thought that she had enough courage to go on, she said, “I was dreaming about her again. She was standing right in front of me, except in a white and silver dress.”

Altaire turned, and motioned for someone to go away. Awn’néad looked behind her, and saw Steele closing the door gently. Altaire then looked back at the fiery-haired child in front of her, and asked, “Could you describe this dress, or draw it for me?”

Altaire knew exactly who Awn’néad was talking about. Awn’néad had dreamed about Sinead for the past week since the explosion scare. When she wasn’t dreaming about Sinead, she was having nightmares about Protoform ‘X’ breaking loose again, or strange animals fighting each other on a strange world. Those animals had familiar voices; the voices of those around her.

“The dress went from her shoulders to the floor, and was pure white. It had a boat neck and the sleeves belled out from the elbows. The waist was like a V, and her dress flowed out freely. All the trimmings were in silver,” Awn’néad said, with her eyes closed, remembering.

“Go back to sleep, Little One,” Altaire whispered, and stroked Awn’néad’s hair with one shaking hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was a peaceful dream, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t worry about it. She’s probably just watching over you.”

“Okay, Altaire,” Awn’néad whispered as she let her blankets be pulled back up and around her by her trainer. “G’night.”

Altaire left the room silently and when she was out in the hallway, she saw Steele leaning against the wall, waiting patiently. Awn’néad’s  room had been moved to more into the center of the stilted dwelling, to ensure her protection from any other blasts. She didn’t have windows, but plenty of screens lined the walls, portraying live or delayed feeds from Earth that lightened and darkened with the appropriate hours, so she could sleep and wake up naturally. She could also feel like she could be in Madrid, Spain, then turn, and be in Boston, then turn again, and be looking over Ireland’s perfect green, rolling hills.

Steele saw the strained look on Altaire’s face and began walking over to her. He searched her optics for any information as he was walking, but he couldn’t find anything. Altaire threw her arms around him. As Steele returned the embrace, he felt her trembling.

“What is the matter?” he whispered.

“I have to talk to Optimus. Awn dreamed about her mother again.”

Steele sighed, and said, “Then we’d better tell him sooner than later. Come.”

The two went to Optimus’ quarters and knocked, but he wasn’t there. They then went to the small conference room, and sure enough, he was there talking with Electra and Stormblend. When he saw the desperate look on Altaire’s face, he quickly excused himself and walked over to them.

“She dreamt about Sinead again, didn’t she?” he asked.

Altaire nodded, and said, “In the white and silver dress.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Altaire shook her head, and said, “She explained it down to the exact style.”

Stormblend walked up to them, and said, “She’s never seen any pictures of her mother in that dress. She used it for formal occasions. I don’t think that she’s even seen any physical pictures of Sinead until about three years ago, from her mother’s friend Kristine! How could she possibly know what that dress looked like?”

Altaire shook her head, and closed her eyes. It was all that she could do to keep awake. Optimus touched her arm. “Maybe you should get some sleep. You too, Steele. Tomorrow is another day.”

Altaire and Steele nodded and turned, but Altaire stumbled on the doorstep when she left. Steele caught her and held her up while she regained her balance. The two bots then disappeared down the hallway.

Optimus turned to Electra, who seemed wide awake. “Go on,” he said, indicating the door.

Electra left, and walked in the opposite direction of Altaire and Steele.

“I’m starting to think, my student,” Stormblend said, with a strange look in his eyes. “That we might just have a little romance working into the Fleet of Guardians, eh?”

Optimus looked at the door, and thought about the way that Steele had waited patiently for Altaire to regain her balance. For just about any other bot, himself included, he would have let them hold onto the door frame. The only other exception to that was Awn’néad.

“Maybe, Storm, my teacher. Just maybe.” He sighed. “But I’m beginning to think that it may be that our Awn’néad has the same gift that Sinead did.”

Stormblend shrugged hopelessly. “Depth Charge was the last one to speak with Sinead. She might’ve told him if the gift was passed on to her daughter or not.”

“Can you ask him?”

“Primus, and bring up memories he’s desperately wanted to forget?”

Optimus winced. “Look, I know it’s a hard thing to remember, but we have to know if Awn’néad can hear us on those levels.”

Stormblend sighed. “All right. I’ll ask him. But only when I feel he’s ready to talk. Don’t get your hopes up. Besides. Awn’néad might just out and say something about it before I can get a chance to ask about Sinead’s last words to Depth Charge.”

The younger bot nodded and said his goodnight, returning to his quarters and looking out the window. Even though Sinead was dead . . . she still managed to reach out to the bots she had touched in life.

Click here for part seven