Spotlight: Csirac

Prologue:

A temporary truce has been declared between the Autobots and Decepticons to battle the new threat facing Cybertron - The Cybertronian Empire and its leader, the Liege Maximo. A fighting force of ‘Bots and ‘Cons has left Cybertron for The Hub, the centre of the Empire’s power, to tackle this new enemy at its heart.

With so many troops gone, Autobot security on Cybertron is stretched to protect the vulnerable targets (research facilities, troop training centres etc), as not only are the Decepticons likely to break the truce at the first chance, but they’re not the only enemy on Cybertron anymore. The Predacons, under Razorclaw, announced their separation from the Decepticons with repeated assaults on Earth, simply to cause as much destruction as possible, with no interest in utilising the planets rich resources - Megatron was impressed, but outraged by the betrayal.

The Autobots stationed on Earth took up a new name - the Maximals: A new, more bestial name to battle a new, more bestial opponent. The Maximals were able to counter the attacks for some time, but couldn’t have seen what was coming for them next.

The Predacons amassed their full number into an enormous Armada, bolstered by troops leaving the Decepticon ranks to join this new faction, and attacked Earth. The Maximal forces were overwhelmed, but that wasn’t the end. Explosive charges of immense power were shunted deep into the planets crust - and detonated.

The planet was torn apart by the force of the explosions. Billions died, unable to escape the planet in time.

While the Autobots continued their War with the Decepticons on Cybertron, all Autobots stationed off-world took on the new Maximal title in respect for those lost on Earth, and began to fight this new Predacon army - who have now taken territory from the Decepticons on Cybertron, and refused to join the alliance fighting the Cybertronian Empire.

Scene 1:

Optimus Primal, in his new Transmetal form, stands in the doorway of a room onboard the Axalon. An odd-looking table with arms can be seen in the room. The figures of Rhinox and Rattrap approach.

“They’re impressive new forms”, said Rhinox as he entered the room.

“They’ll certainly take some getting used to”, replied Primal, briefly looking at his new body - his old one currently littering space in a million pieces. “Thank you, old friend”, he said to Rhinox, who simply shook his head at the gratitude. “So, what is it, exactly?” asked Primal, looking at the table.

“You mean besides ugly?” snorted the small Transmetal Maximal.

“Shut up, Rattrap”, Primal replied.

“I don’t know what he called it; it may not have even had a name. But now that you’ve seen what it can do, you understand its danger”, said Rhinox, gathering tools.

“Danger?” questioned Rattrap. “Are you kiddin’? We could bring back anyone! The Beast Wars would be over tomorrow!”

“But if the Predacons got hold of it, they could do the same thing”, said Primal, studying the device.

“Exactly”, said Rhinox, taking a seat at the foot of the table. “Until the tear in Space-Time has healed, feats like this remain possible. The sooner I dismantle it the better.”

“What?!” protested Rattrap.

“Agreed”, said Primal, ignoring Rattrap.

“You just gunna throw away our best hope of endin’ this war anytime soon, huh?” continued Rattrap in his protestation. Optimus and Rhinox simply looked at Rattrap - they didn’t have to say anything. “I know, I know, ‘shut up Rattrap’…” he said, rolling his optics as he left the room, carrying on his complaints to himself.

“Who was he?” asked Primal.

“His name was Csirac”, said Rhinox, beginning the disassembly. “He was a Maximal Scientist at the end of the Great War, and a good friend of mine.”

“Well, I owe him my thanks”, said Primal.

“We all do”, said Rhinox, as Primal left the room. “More than we know.”

Scene 2:

300 Years Earlier...

A secret Autobot/Maximal research facility on Cybertron is the centre charged with developing and testing TransWarp Technology. The finest minds have been brought together to try and master it before the Decepticons or Predacons do. The facility and its hard-working engineers and scientists have already launched one test ship, the Lexor, but it ended in disaster, with the engines malfunctioning and the ship being destroyed and all crew onboard killed.

Three Maximals are working on an engine, but keeping an eye on a forth, who is working alone.

“I don’t know how he keeps going”, said the first Maximal to his colleagues.

“His work is all he’s got left. If he stopped, he’d probably go mad”, replied the large brown and green robot beside him, who seemed to be built more for the battlefield than a laboratory.

“He hasn’t already?” questioned the third Maximal. “It started with muttering, I thought he was just working ideas through, but now he’s having full on conversations with himself!”

The scene cuts to the Maximal working alone.

“They’re talking about me again”, he said aloud, his optics not moving from his work.

“They’re just worried about you”, a female voice replied.

“I’m fine”, he said, still working feverishly.

“Darling, your hands are shaking. Rest. Let your friends carry more of the burden.” Her words calmed him slightly. “You used to trust them.”

“And look how that ended up”, he said, bitterly.

“I know the next flight will be a complete success. But Primus has another task for you.”

His face broke into a sour smile. “Oh really, Primus. And when is he going to give me the time to do it?” he asked the bodiless voice.

The scene cuts back to the three other Maximals.

“All I’m saying is that if he goes on like this he’s gonna burn himself out.” The third Maximal was continuing his chain of thought. “I know there’s a war on, but everyone needs to cool their processors every once in a while. Right, Rhin…”

*BOOOOOOOM!*

A massive explosion rips through the facility.

Predacon troops swarm into the lab with weapons drawn but everyone inside is offline. A large red Predacon is barking order to the Predacons. They identify Csirac and bundle him up. They fire at the consoles, destroying the Maximals’ research, laughing as they leave.

The large brown and green robot rolls onto his back and surveys the damage after the Predacons have left.

“Oh no…”

Scene 3:

Csirac came back online, but instantly wished he hadn’t, groaning with pain.

“Ah, excellent, you’re awake.”

Csirac’s optics couldn’t focus on where the voice came from.

“Where… How…” he murmured, his vocal subroutines were still recovering.

“My name is Taranachus, I’m a big fan of your work. And as for where - consider this your new home. See”, Taranachus pointed, “we’ve already adorned it with some of your belongings.”

Csirac’s vision had returned enough for him to follow Taranachus’ gesture towards a great hunk of metal, which suddenly came into sharp focus.

“Where did you get that?” he demanded, but already knew the answer.

“We found it; there were pieces scattered everywhere. You Maximals really should be more careful with your toys.” Taranachus cackled and made Csirac even more uncomfortable.

“You’ve got an engine, why do you need me?” asked Csirac, fearing the answer.

“The engine is scrap - we’ll need another one. Oh, and a TransWarp cell to power it with.” He cackled again, clearly enjoying the unease he was causing.

“I can’t help you”, Csirac said resolutely.

“We have it on good authority that you can”, Taranachus replied.

“What I mean is that I won’t help you.” Csirac could now see the slender purple Predacon clearly. His form matched his unnerving voice.

“You will - we have ways of making you… comply”, said Taranachus, approaching Csirac for the first time.

“If you mean the little Shell Program you Predacons have been working on, forget it. I helped design the Protoform Technology - all you’ll end up doing is corrupting my mainframe, and you’ll be no closer to getting what you want.” Csirac was confident, but it was still a bluff, only having heard speculation about the success of the overriding programming.

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, for all our sakes.” There was no joke in Taranachus’ voice.

“Do what he says”, said the female voice in his ear. Csirac reacted without thinking.

“Are you crazy?!” he said, aloud.

Taranachus cocked his head sideways at the odd outburst, but answered nonetheless. “So they say.” He laughed again, but Csirac wasn’t listening to him.

“Everything will be fine”, the female voice continued. “Just agree to do what he says. You asked Primus for time to do his task - this is it.”

“What task? And why here?” asked Csirac, angrily. His head was still very sore from the explosion and nothing was making sense.

“This place has a certain charm, don’t you think?”, said Taranachus looking around the chamber. He was taken aback by the odd outbursts coming from his guest. “But enough chitchat, lets put you to work, Maximal. One TransWarp cell, please…” He cackled again, making Csirac’s metal crawl.

Scene 4:

Whatever and wherever this place was, it was heavily protected. What was worse, however, was that Csirac had very high security clearance within the Autobot army, and although he wasn’t privy to all their intel gathering, he was certain the Autobots had no idea this place existed; Csirac was on his own - apart from the voice in his head of course. But her haunting tones were the worst company he could’ve asked for, though they weren’t always so.

The voice belonged to his partner, Venus. A Maximal, as beautiful and she was intelligent. She was a pilot, and with full confidence in Csirac’s work, volunteered to fly the first TransWarp test ship: The Lexor. Something went wrong however, and the ship rained down as fiery debris on Cybertron. Csirac had killed the love of his life.

He threw himself into his work like never before, shunning his friends and those he worked alongside. He would get the technology to work to make amends for his deadly failure; only then would he have peace.

Not long after this tragic event, he began to hear her voice when no one else could. He put it down to stress, grief and the long hours of work - the voice only got louder. Csirac gave up trying to ignore the obvious manifestation of the trauma he’s suffered, and began to engage the voice in conversation. There was something calming about the exercise, it was like having her back again in some small way, but could never touch her. Although the voice urged him to believe she was more than a figment of his imagination, Csirac never let himself believe it - she couldn’t be real.

So as not to appear mentally imbalanced, Csirac waited until he was alone to question his over-active subconscious but this apparent task.

“So Primus wants me to help the Predacons?” he asked bluntly to the air around him. “That’s just great. I’ve really cracked now.”

“He doesn’t want you to help them. He wants to help you, and I’m here to help you too”, replied the voice.

“Help me… How many times, you’re not real!” The depressive nature of his situation was beginning to hit home.

“I was once. And I can be again”, the voice said calmly.

Taken aback by the prospect, Csirac changed his tone. “What does that mean?”

“You once showed me a prototype of a TransWarp cell. It collapsed when charged and disappeared in a flash of white light. You said it had cut a small hole in Space-Time, but didn’t have the power to cut through from the other side. But the hole was there, a hole into the hereafter - a hole into the Allspark. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Csirac remembered it vividly, but was lost for meaning. “I don’t understand.”

“Primus wants you to build a device that will let you traverse the Allspark, find my Spark, and bring it back.”

Csirac paused for a moment, letting the idea wash over him. Finally, he shook his head and laughed. “That’s madness! The explosion must have corrupted some hardware…”

“You’re fine”, the voice pleaded. “Primus knows you can do this.”

“Does he?” he answered bitterly, returning to his negative tone. “Well Primus is forgetting one thing - even if I was to try anything as stupid-sounding as that, I haven’t got a chance of creating a TransWarp cell with the resources the Preds have given me. So creating the explosion necessary to create the window is impossible!”

“Leave that to me”, the voice said politely.

“Oh, yes, leave it to the voice in my head to create a hole through to the Allspark”, Csirac said sarcastically. “The Preds should just wipe my memory banks and be done with me. But that’s the least they’ll do to me when I can’t build them a cell!” Csirac collapsed into a chair.

“You have to believe me”, pleaded the voice. Csirac shook his head in his hands. “I’ll prove to you that I'm real."

Csirac was lost in fear of having his hard drives erased.

"Give my regards to Razorclaw.”

“Oh, like the leader of the Predacons is just going to walk through the…”

There was a loud bang on the chamber’s large door and it swung open.

“…door.”

There stood the enormous figure of Razorclaw, flanked by several other Predacons. Csirac froze as the huge Predacon leader approached him.

“Csirac”, Razorclaw said, his great, battle-scared form towering over the small Maximal, “it’s a pleasure to have you in our company.”

Scene 5:

Inside an Autobot Command Office:

“Losses from the Hub assault were heavy”, said Magnus. “In fact, we still don’t know the full number. So until we do, we can’t make any offensive plans; for the moment we’re on the back foot.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do”, pleaded the brown and green Maximal.

“There aren’t the resources for what sounds to be a futile rescue mission.”

“Futile?” The Maximal was offended by the old Autobot's refusal to see any hope.

“From what you’ve told me, he didn’t sound like the type that would start helping the enemy, even with a blaster aimed at his head. Your friend is dead.” The Maximal refused to believe it. The Predacons had taken Csirac for a reason - more than just target practice. “It’s a great loss, but because of what he knew, his death is a better outcome for us than the alternative. Try to take some solace in that.”

“Solace? A Spark going out shouldn’t be a comfort to anyone.”

“No? Tell that to those who’ve been fighting Megatron for so long”, Magnus spat. “But now he’s dead, and the Decepticons look set to fold.” Magnus was pleased, but clearly thought the war would be over after such an event. “Their troops are abandoning ship for the Predacons, who are thankfully quiet at present, but they won’t stay that way for long. Our priority is regrouping our numbers against a resourceful new enemy.”

“What if we…”

“I don’t have time for this, Rhinox”, said Magnus, cutting him off. Magnus reached for something beside his console. “If you want to chase his ghost, and get yourself killed - fine. Take these…” Magnus produced two Maximal-sized chain-guns and placed them upon the console, “and may Primus be with you.”

Rhinox was stunned by the weapons. “I’m a scientist…”

“But you’re built like a soldier. Go find your friend.”

Scene 6:

“I apologise for the manner of your arrival.” Csirac could do little but stare at Razorclaw. “I’m sure you’re now aware of why I’ve brought you here.” Csirac nodded feebly. “Your research is of great interest to me. But I haven’t overlooked the value of your work on Earth.”

Earth: where the Predacons announced their separation from the Decepticons.

Csirac was shocked that Razorclaw could mention Earth so casually. It was a very sore point for the Autobots and Maximals: they’d dragged Earth into their War, and it had cost the humans everything.

“I was sceptical of these Protomatter bodies”, Razorclaw continued, “but having seen them in operation, I soon became a great admirer, and have been stealing them as often as possible, as you can no doubt tell”, he said with a wry smile, gesturing to the smattering of smaller Predacons amongst the larger bots. “But my admiration goes further - I want one for myself.” Csirac was finding Razorclaw to be full of surprises; perhaps that’s what made him such a formidable leader and warrior.

“But not just any body - one unlike any seen until this point.” Csirac was unsure as to what this might mean, and Razorclaw seeing this in his face, lent down close to him. Csirac felt miniscule, as Razorclaw seemed to emanate power. “I want one that can combine!” Razorclaw stood back up to his full height and turned from Csirac. “Bring him”, he said to two of his troops. Csirac was escorted from the chamber by two bulky Predacons.

Scene 7:

Csirac was being escorted amid Razorclaw’s entourage through the Predacon facility. Bots were in reverence of their leader, but sneered or smiled at Csirac, perhaps wishing to rip his optics out themselves. Csirac was shoved forward to walk beside Razorclaw, who looked down at him.

“You Maximals never created a working combiner?” Razorclaw asked.

Csirac didn’t know if this was considered passing information on to the enemy, but with his current company, it didn’t seem optional.

“We never tried. Our focus was getting the basic technology to work. Maybe if we had a bit more time before you blew up the Earth…” Csirac couldn’t stop himself from saying it, it’d just slipped out, but Razorclaw simply laughed.

“It was a brutal planet - had been from its beginning and was until its end. My Predacon brothers and I felt more at home there than most Decepticons. So don’t think for a cycle that I don’t regret its destruction.” Razorclaw had bitterness in his voice - genuine remorse for the planet? Or perhaps from the mention of his four fallen brothers - the original Predacons: Divebomb, Rampage, Tantrum and Headstrong.

“What you’re about to see, no Maximal has set their optics upon, nor will any after you.”

The entourage decreased in number as Razorclaw and Csirac entered a well protected chamber. Inside was something Csirac could never have expected.

“Rampage and Tantrum are lost to me - but the Sparks of Headstrong and Divebomb still pulse!”

The chamber held two huge cylinders, each holding a battle-damaged form, surrounded by a fluid, and connected to all manner of cables.

“The Autobots believe them dead, and I’m happy to let them.” Csirac approached the cylinder containing the tattered body of Divebomb. “But the battlefield will shake once again at the sight of PREDAKING!”

Scene 8:

Csirac sat silently in his chamber, staring at three blank Protoforms in Stasis Pods.

“We better get started”, said a female voice. Csirac kept staring.

After a long pause, Csirac finally said “Well, I’m dead.”

“We have a lot of work to do, but you’re not dead yet”, replied the voice.

“Three bodies isn’t enough! Devastator, Superion, Menasor… All had five or more. It just doesn’t work!” Csirac got up and began to pace the room.

“It’ll need to be an intricate combination, with some creativity in its design”, the voice said, optimistically. Csirac remained silent as he paced. “Let me worry about that”, the voice said. “You should do what you’re good at.”

Csirac laughed. “At the moment, that’s passing information on to the enemy”, he said bitterly.

“How did you first identify the hole in Space-Time?” the voice asked, changing the topic. It threw Csirac, who was still stuck between combiners and court-marshalling.

“Wha… Er, Ions, charged Ions left a trail to the hole. Why?” said Csirac in his confusion.

“With a positive or negative charge?” she continued.

“What’s this got to do with…” Csirac stopped, his face fell blank with realisation. “Negative.” Csirac’s mind was now racing - could the voice actually be onto something? “By riding a wave of negatively charged ions into the hole, somehow inverting their polarity, then riding the current out, leaving a trail behind for your Spark to follow.” Csirac stared wide-eyed at the floor but not seeing it. “By Primus, that might actually work.”

“I always loved watching you work”, said the voice.

Csirac carried on thinking the problem through, oblivious to the voice. “Manipulating the ions mid-stream will be the tricky bit - and then the question of what to send through on the wave…”

“Only one thing can exist in the Allspark”, the voice said softly. “You have to come and find me. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“No, this is crazy!” said Csirac, suddenly losing all positivity.

“You know it will work”, the voice pleaded.

“Theoretically, maybe. But I’ll only get one shot, and if I get it wrong my Spark could drift anywhere!”

“Then I’ll come and find you. Don’t think about the risks, start with the obvious problem: getting the ions to transition between charges.”

Csirac slumped back into the chair. A force pulled him back up to standing.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work!” the voice commanded. Venus had always had a hard edge when she needed to. It came with the job of training flight recruits. Csirac lent over the small desk in the room and began to scribble equations, unsure as to what had just pulled him up.

Scene 9:

Csirac was concentrating on his work and didn’t see the creepy figure enter.

“How interesting.” Csirac was startled. “I often talk to myself as well; the conversation is always enlightening.” The Predacon cackled to himself. “Now, what are you building?”

“It’s… err…” Csirac’s mind raced to find a believable lie. “A device to create and observe small TransWarp cells. Once they’re stable, I’ll compile them to make one large enough to power the engine.” Csirac thought it sounded plausible. These Predacons knew nothing of TransWarp technology after all.

“Which is where?” asked Taranachus, needling the Maximal.

“I…” Csirac squirmed. “…haven’t started its assembly yet”, he said, which was entirely truthful. “I thought the cells would be the priority.”

“This exercise would be much easier if Razorclaw allowed me to extract the information from your data-tracks.” Csirac didn’t like the sound of that at all. Enjoying the obvious discomfort he was causing Csirac, Taranachus continued with his interrogation. “Now, what of the other little job Razorclaw gave you? I see the Stasis pods remain untouched.”

“Again, the cells have priority”, replied Csirac.

“Really?” Taranachus chuckled. “I was under the impression you needed a new body for him promptly.”

“I have a design”, Csirac lied.

“Excellent. Show me.” Taranachus had called Csirac’s bluff.

Csirac moved to the desk and picked up an etcher, not knowing what he would do next. But he felt his hand being guided by an invisible force. On the back of some schematics, he drew a broad-winged fighter, an assault vehicle and a tank. Then, the massive combined form. Taranachus was clearly impressed - as was Csirac. He stared wide-eyed at the drawing.

“Try not to look so surprised, you’ll give the game away”, the female voice said.

“Impressive, most impressive.” Taranachus turned to leave. “I suggest you start programming the design into the Protoforms and stop tinkering with whatever you claim that to be.” Taranachus left the room, leaving Csirac unsure if he’d gotten away with it.

“Where did this come from?” he asked the empty room.

“I’ve designed things before. The Maximal fighters, if you’ll remember.”

“I know you did - but you’re not you.”

“What will it take for you to believe me?” asked the voice, but Csirac wasn’t listening; he was still staring at the design.

Scene 10:

Csirac had achieved many great feats in his work, and under different circumstances this would have sat alongside them. But as he marvelled at the incredible creation before him, it was with a large tinge of fear and regret - he had created a machine to kill his own kind.

The Predacons in the room where nervous. Razorclaw was silently considering the mew gestalt, and until he gave an opinion either way, the other Predacons didn’t know how to react.

It soon became clear however.

Csirac was struck with immense force and sent hurtling into the wall; Razorclaw did not approve.

“I’m beginning to think your Spark isn’t in this, Csirac”, said Razorclaw, as he walked to the small crumpled heap on the floor and stood over him. “Maybe I should turn you over to the Brotherhood’s pet, get him to delve into your circuits and get what we want from you - he’s been quite persistent.”

Csirac tried to stand, but couldn’t.

“But because I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, I’ll give you one last chance to make amends.” Razorclaw turned to leave, but couldn’t resist one last jibe. “Don’t disappoint me again or I’ll scatter your remains the way I scattered Earths.”

With that, the Predacons departed, leaving Csirac wounded on the floor.

Aw man, this is sweet! :eek::D

Scene 11, SCENE 11! :cool:



P.S. I'm loving Rhinox's use man, your handling of a character that clearly had so much back story that was never touched is excellent and in your hands I know he'll be well looked after. ;):)

It's coming mate, don't worry, I'm just away from home atm so I'll get cracking once I'm back ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Verno

It's coming mate, don't worry, I'm just away from home atm so I'll get cracking once I'm back ;)

---

Hearing a lot of this mate... :p:D
Just kidding man, do what you've got to do as I'll be looking forward to it regardless. ;):)

I've hit something of a wall. I've been mulling stuff over in my head whilst not writing anything and I've got the ending, but I'm not quite sure how I'll get/how I can get there.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Verno

I've hit something of a wall. I've been mulling stuff over in my head whilst not writing anything and I've got the ending, but I'm not quite sure how I'll get/how I can get there.

---

Urgh... That is the one part I hated the most about writing back in school, stupid thing was though that Teachers would never accept it as an excuse; you know, cause they were clearly accomplished writers who knew better. :rolleyes:

Sucks to hear man, but as before; take your time dude, as much as you need. ;):)

The next two passages don't tie into SL: Csirac exactly, they come not long after the War is over, but as I haven't posted anything of late I thought I'd offer them up to try and get my creative juices flowing again with Csirac's story.

Passage 1:

A speech, by Prime, or possibly someone on the Maximal High Council.

We find ourselves in an outsized world. Our great cities are dust and ash. We need a fresh start. No-one has lived on this planet for millennia, we've only survived on it. That will now change. Here we build a future, together - in peace. We mend Cybertron's scars as we do our own. Rising triumphantly above the reminders of yesterday, we find our tomorrow - we find: Cybertropolis.

Passage 2:

The Tripredacus Council are meeting with the Maximal Elders.

"You would leave us to stagnate?" queried General Seethe. "We are one race, yet your actions will only widen the divide between our factions."

"You already control our Energon supply, and justifiably so, but you would deny us our part in the evolution of our species?" pressed Cinder.

"That we simply cannot allow", finished Rampant.

"Or?" came the reply from Rodimus, who had no time for these Predacons.

"Or?!" said Rampant, with a furious smile. "You wish to provoke a threat of renewed conflict from us? Maintain your current tone and you will soon have it!" Rodimus simply smiled back.

"Are we to understand that you will not willingly share this technology with the Predacons?" continued Seethe, trying to bring the discussion back to a civil tone.

"Damn right", said Rodimus. His fellow Maximals secretly agreed with him, but couldn't appear to outwardly.

"Even with an offer in return?" asked Cinder.

"What could you possibly offer us?" said Rodimus.

"Labor", was the reply from Seethe.

"Your designs for a new Cybertron are grand, but costly, least of all in time. In exchange for the upgrade of our members, we will provide a workforce to help construct this future you've spoken of", said Cinder.

"We will each earn our new proto-matter body through service to Cybertron", said Seethe.

"We?" laughed Rodimus. "Oh I'd love to see the three of you with tools in hand. It'd make a change from the knives..."

"Enough", said Ironhide.

"Let 'em rot!" added Rodimus, not liking being cut off.

"I said enough", Ironhide repeated. Silence fell in the chamber.

"What you're suggesting is, for lack of a better word - slavery, of your own bots", began Prowl. "Who are you to decide their fate? You're by no means democratically elected, and when this is offered up as their only option for progress, I don't think your power would be great enough to control the Predacon Shit-Storm that would be headed your way. And after they're done with you, one guess where it'd head next."

No-one dared speak, because everyone knew it was the truth.

"We accept your offer of labor", said Silverbolt, much to Rodimus' disgust, "but we won't force anyone to work." More silence greeted Silverbolt's words.

"This planet had a class system once, and look how that turned out. If a single Predacon is willing to help rebuild Cybertron, then they can do so, freely. The proto-matter technology will be shared", finished Ironhide. Rodimus couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"That is a most generous offer", said Cinder, "one not easily made I'm sure, but greatly welcomed nonetheless."

"You have our assurance that we Predacons will play our part in the construction of a new Cybertron, for us all", said Seethe.

The meeting adjourned, and the Tripredacus Council stood and left the chamber.

"Before you even start, Rodimus", said Ironhide, cutting the Maximal off before he could even begin, "it was the only way to maintain the peace, and no matter what you say, that is the most important thing at present."

"For his sake - I hope he's dead." Rhinox looked up at the great Autobot commander. "And as his friend", Magnus continued, "you should too." Rhinox could never hope such a thing. "But if they took him alive then reason would dictate that he remains so; they obviously have a use for him." Magnus sat back in his chair. "What does he know?"

"Nothing tactical", replied Rhinox. "They'd be after his technical knowledge."

"TransWarp", Magnus stated, unhappily.

"Amongst other things", said Rhinox. "He was part of Project: Macpherson on Earth, and was actually one of the first to go Maximal. That knowledge could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

Magnus sat in silent contemplation for a moment before continuing. "We haven't got the resources to mount a search and rescue mission. I'm sorry."

"So that's it?" Rhinox asked, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

"No. Has the raid delayed the launch of the next ship?" asked Magnus.

Rhinox shook his head. "We got lucky. A few stray blasts could have seen us back at square one."

"And the relocation of the lab is underway as we speak?" continued Magnus.

"Yes. Let's hope this one stays a secret longer than the last", said Rhinox, sadly.

"I can't guarantee that", Magnus said. Rhinox admired his honesty; there were no guarantees in war. "You're going to have to take some matters into your own hands", said Magnus, reaching for something behind the desk.

"Like what?" asked Rhinox, puzzled.

Magnus produced a set of chain guns and placed them on the desk with a solid thud. Rhinox simply stared in silence, his mouth agape.

"Welcome to the party."

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Verno

*snip*

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I like this dude; Rodimus' typical brash and rushed approach to negotiation, The Tripredacus Council treating the Predacons as nothing more than a commodity being only more than willing to sell them up the river so long as it means they achieve their desires (Quite a Decepticon trait ;)) and having the old and the wise collective minds and voices take the higher road all paints an incredibly likely scenario and one that feels very legitimate indeed. ;):cool:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Verno

*snip*

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Now that is a back-story for a pair of the most recognised pair of weapons in any era of the franchise and how fitting that they should come from Ultra Magnus, a wise heavy gunner from the old guard who doesn't shy away from what must be done (even if it is possibly underhanded) - Spot on Verno! :D:cool:

Cheers Hursty.

I've finally got a complete through-line for the Csirac story, and have even planned out the first issue of the comic, all 22 pages. Now I just need to adapt the scenes I've written to the new story.

More coming soon.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Verno

I've finally got a complete through-line for the Csirac story, and have even planned out the first issue of the comic, all 22 pages. Now I just need to adapt the scenes I've written to the new story.

More coming soon.

---

Sweet! :D

The doors of the chamber opened and two large Predacons dragged the drained figure of Silverbolt in, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor, before leaving without a word. Once the doors closed and locked, Csirac went to help Silverbolt.

"What are they doing to you?" he asked, assessing Silverbolt's damage.

Silverbolt pushed the small Maximal away. "Trying to install some kind of programming", he said, struggling to his feet. "Why? Want top give them a hand with that too?" Silverbolt said bitterly.

"What kind of programming?" Csirac asked, ignoring the jibe. This was concerning news.

Silverbolt shook his head. "Whatever it is, it doesn't want to take to old technology", said Silverbolt, giving in to the fatigue and sliding down against the wall.

"A shell program?" pressed Csirac.

"What's that?" Silverbolt asked with a sigh.

Csirac was worried. "We designed the protomatter technology with Maximal coding, as a failsafe. If the technology was stolen or copied, it was hoped the Predacons would be unable to use it."

"You were wrong there. I've seen plenty of pint-sized Preds", said Silverbolt.

Csirac nodded sadly. "They developed a shell program, an override. From what we know, it takes the core consciousness hostage and alters facets of a protoform's personality. Attempts to remove the program haven't ended well."

Silverbolt was now paying attention. "So if they get it to work..."

"You'll be a Predacon", said Csirac, sadly. But his processors were still working through the details. "The question is 'why'".

"Pretty obvious, isn't it?" Csirac turned and looked at him. "The Preds would have an agent within Autobot Command." Silverbolt struggled to his feet. "That can't happen."

"It hasn't happened yet", said Csirac, unsure what Silverbolt was thinking.

"It won't happen", said Silverbolt, his eyes scanning the chamber. He moved towards the desk, flipped it violently and ripped one of the legs from it.

"What are you doing?" pleaded Csirac, his processors whirring faster than ever. He moved closer wearily.

Silverbolt lined the metal leg up with his own chest, then turned his head to look at Csirac. He had a look of utmost conviction in his eyes. "Better dead than Pred..."

Ooh! - Now that's juicy! :D, but just to clarify; Is that Silverbolt the G1 Aerialbot Commander or the Fuzor? :confused:

Regardless, I very much like how you tied that line into the chapter and especially under the circumstances that it's uttered; Csirac must be really good at segregating his emotional circuitry from his main processors, the amount of Horrors the bot is witnessing would likely drive him crazy otherwise - Good thing he's a scientist eh? ;):cool:

It's G1 Aerialbot Commander Silverbolt. He's lost his 4 comrades and is feeling very sorry for himself at present.

Csirac is a 'bot of reason and logic, but even he can't help but get emotionally involved in a few moments.

Don't worry, Silverbolt will be fine.

Here is the 2nd half of the preceding scene. Enjoy!

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"Noo!" yelled Csirac as he ran and collided with Silverbolt's legs, knocking him slightly off balance.

"Get off!" said Silverbolt, attempting to shove the Maximal away. Silverbolt over-balanced and came crashing down, the table leg flying from his grasp.

"I won't be responsible for selling the Autobots out!" yelled Silverbolt, as he struggled to get back up.

"Killing yourself isn't the answer!" Csirac cried, still clinging to his leg.

"What else am I supposed to do?!" yelled Silverbolt, who thrashed around in frustration. Csirac was flung *into the wall. He slid to the bottom with a groan.

"Are you alright?" Silverbolt asked, quickly sitting up in a panic.

"Yes", said Csirac, slowly. He remained crumbled at the foot of the wall. Silverbolt lay back down, relieved.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, neither of them moving.

"I'm sorry", said Silverbolt, staring at the ceiling. "I came into this war and I knew my place; I had a purpose. Now that's been*stolen from me, I don't know what to do. Why am I still here and they're not? I should have died with them."

A few moments of silence followed before Csirac replied. "I got to see you in action once. I was on board the Laraam, a transport from Earth. We came under Predacon fire on re-entry. You led a bombing run to take out the Predacon artillery, then escorted us in. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here."

"The Laraam, huh." Silverbolt sat up. "The last shuttle from Earth. It was a beautiful planet."

"Yeah. It's where I met Venus", said Csirac.

"A friend of yours?" asked Silverbolt.

"Sparkmate"' replied Csirac.

"Now that's a word I haven't heard used in a long time. You're one lucky bot." Silverbolt waited for a reply, but when he didn't get one, he continued. "I'm sure she's out there waiting for you."

"I don't want to die in here, Silverbolt", Csirac said suddenly. "And I'm certain you don't either."

Silverbolt was taken aback by the change in topic. "It's not the preferred option."

Csirac still hadn't moved from the floor. "We're getting out of here. I don't know how, but I'm not dying staring at some dirty, Pred bunker wall. I want to be able to see the stars when I go." Csirac looked up and was greeted with Silverbolt offering him a hand up.

"Affirmative."

Csirac crashed back to the floor and skidded into the far wall. He'd been expecting the hit for some time.

"Mistakes...", growled Razorclaw, as he approached the Maximal after sending him flying.*"I was foolish to give you as much freedom as I did; I can see that now. It won't happen again", he said as he crouched down. "And you, Csirac, you disappoint me. It's almost as if your Spark wasn't quite in it. That too will change, or you'll be melted down and used as mortar casings. Alive or dead - used to kill your own kind."*

Behind Razorclaw stood a congregation of Predacons surrounding an imposing, lifeless form.

"What do you want us to do with it, my Lord? Scrap it?" asked a large bot.

Taranachus, who had been intently studying the Protomatter combiner, spun around at this comment. "Might I suggest we keep it, Lord Razorclaw. It will aid our understanding of the technology."

"Just get it out of my sight!" barked Razorclaw without taking his optics from the small form below him.

Two burly Predacons lifted the body and removed it from the chamber, Taranachus trailing it out.

"All designs will pass before my optics before they're executed. I see that to be the best way to avoid any unnecessary violence, wouldn't you agree?" posed Razorclaw to the crumbled Maximal.

"Yes", said Csirac, not daring to look up.

Without another word, Razorclaw stood, turned and led his fellow Predacons from the room, the door locking with its usual clunk.

"Are you alright?" asked Silverbolt.

Csirac sat up with a groan. "All part of the plan."