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Chamber of Silence

Swords clashed before his face as Mindwipe's processor warred with it self. Thunderwing was the rightful ruler of Tyrest, and the ranking Decepticon. But Silverstrike was his friend and student. Protocol and good sense dictated he do nothing.

However, some impulse the necromancer could not explain compelled him against all reason to aid the slender femme. As the femme's hull once again became a toxic mass of liquid metal, he transformed and clung to the ceiling to avoid accidental contact.

Just when the situation seemed as complicated as it could get, Mindwipe received a transmission from Clench, demanding his presence. Slag it all for spare parts! Now things were truly untenable. The hypnotist did not even dare call out to Silverstrike. The slightest distraction could prove her destruction at that moment. As Mindwipe struggled with the impossible decision before him, only one thing was certain.

Impossible or not, he had to decide soon.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

Thunderwing's senses buried themselves into the duel. His optics oblivious to the flashes of light emitted from the crossing blades and their reflections on the chrome-like plate covering of Silverstrike, the Warlord move more by his instincts than by his physical sensors. The vision of the two of them, himself and his "daughter" had already been formed in his cranial chamber, in colors and tones not comprehensible by mere optical or audio sensory.

More like, a flow of spirits. Like an aura.

She blocked and parried well, perhaps even better than Thunderwing had expected. He thought she would fall sloppy and slack, if spent too much time with the Seekers - a simple ragtag gang in Thunderwing's mind, with a few and extremely rare exceptions -, but momentarily, nothing such seemed to have happened. Thunderwing was pleased with the overture of their encounter. And he was not exactly the easiest to please.

Then she came back at him, striking with a thrust that was all familiar to the Warlord. The motion was so balanced, it was fast but still silent, light but forceful at the same time. It was the fruit of long-drawn sessions of training and physical excercise. A move he thought would fit her.

Though, even if measurable only in split microns, the blade moved not at the full speed its wielder could have swung it at. It mattered little mainly because, even if it had, Thunderwing could have countered it relatively easily.

Setting his weight out to the side and fluently joining a forward step with a side step, he evaded the tip of Silverstrike's blade and moved to the left side of the sleek, silvery femme. Rapidly spinning his sword in his hand, he held the weapon to have its blade point backwards, turned and swung it into a downward slash, pushing the blade from behind with his elbow. The flat gave flickering reflection of the dim light, then pulled a trail of fading blaze as it cut the air, right towards Silvestrike's cranial chamber.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

With some effort she regained her solid state, her systems protested as she gained control. Silverstrike could feel Mindwipe’s movement as he transformed but dared not spare him a glance. Perhaps another Decepticon would have found this trial quite entertaining but she highly doubted Mindwipe saw it that way. Thunderwing’s actions made her attack look like child’s play. He did not even connect the follow through with his own weapon. Her rejection of becoming something more robbed her of achieving the heightened awareness he lord possessed, hindering her from ever reaching his level of swordsmanship.

The Ruler of Tyrest brought his blade down upon her, the angle impossible to block, her physical strength nowhere near his. She reacted with an elegant movement arching backwards her specialized frame bending to her will, in an attempt to avoid his cut. She spun in mid air, only she misjudged his technique. The edge of his blade sliced through the tip of her wing throwing her off balance. She crashed to the floor landing on her side. Optics flickering to stay on line. She reached out, her saber was just beyond the tips of her fingers but that was not good enough. It should have been in her hand, now she was unarmed. As she struggled to function her optics caught a glimpse of the wedge of silver that once was her wing . It lay shimmering like a piece of her spark upon the ornate floor, testimony to her failure. For clipping the wings of a falcon does only one thing ....... institutes the death of a free spirit. Yet sadness did not have time to put her in its grasp. Her attention was drawn to the elongated shadow cast by the necromancer's wings. A darkness marring the depiction beneath her hands.

She spun on her hip in one fluid motion, her only chance lie in what Mindwipe had taught her. She would use Thunderwing’s amazing strength against him in order to regain her weapon. Completely ignoring the intense pain and sparatic sparks coming from her new wound she put all her energy into a well placed kick aimed at his knee.

Tyrest - Starport

Locating reloads for his three-stage missile launchers had not been as difficult in Tyrest's smaller armories as it had been in Kolkular's vast storehouse of munitions, and not a single armorer drone had been terminated or even tossed about by Weirdwolf this time around. Repairs had proceeded smoothly as well. The dutiful drones mended Weirdwolf's somewhat battered exterior, and as he arrived in the Starport he looked practically like new.

He had to agree with Clench's logic regarding the Autobots' next move, even if his own terribly circuitous way of thinking led to that same conclusion by a very different path. The Tagan Heights were ripe for a counterattack despite the solid Decepticon victory that had just occurred there. No time better strike to...iron when hot! The Autobots could seize the momentum once more by not allowing the Decepticon occupiers to dig in. Of course, it was risky to throw forces right back out again...but when hadn't the Autobots managed to come through in a tight spot?

Autobots blasted! Ironic...favoring them some higher power is, perhaps...as if!

The twisted tracker waited for his comrades to arrive for departure, his maniacal mind percolating all the while.

Tyrest - Starport

The large Decepticon, forged to what he was in countless battles in the arenas, wastelands of Tyrian and later all around Cybertron under the command of Megatron had been examining the old shuttle that originated to the days of peacetime for sometime now. The repairs he had requested seemed to be done. With the very needed maintanance to avionics done the old warbird would continue serving well to the future. He couldn't but wonder if any other race could boast about building spacevessels that could stand use of tens of thousands of vorns. Still, despite the shuttle's condition, Clench's mood was growing worse fast.

Clench had never been a very patient mechanoid when it came to obeying orders he gave. Although such trait was very common within higher ranking Decepticons in general. From the Emperor of Destruction to his lieutenants, hardly any one showed much forgiviness towards incompetence. Weirdwolf had arrived fast enough, Skullcruncher not much later. Mindwipe however was still gone. The arrival of a lone silver flyer sometime ago had not gone unnoticed by the commando unit leader. This was not a coincidence. It had happened before. Mindwipe was stalling because of that pet project of his.

"Prepare the shuttle for launch. I will go to get your missing brother." Clench bellowed and headed out back to Thunderwing's fortress.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

In Thunderwing's mind, the encounter he and Silverstrike had dove into was much like a sort of ritual dance.

Motion was fluid, and to a degree, blurry from swiftness. Both of them stepped, moved and wielded their weapons in accordance with the other, through feeling and intuition, rather than actual physical sensation. Given the pace of their drift, it came not as a surprise, for they were far faster than the speed of reception their systems were possibly capable of. It was the overlap of two souls shaking off their bounds and radiating their own fullness at each other.

The forceful thrust of the leg, with which Silverstrike retaliated was cunning and quick, without any hint of hesitation, despite the obvious disadvantage she had. Thunderwing halted in a split instant and instead of advancing any further, he made a backward step and raised his sword. It was evident that this way, Silverstrike could win a few microns of time - and which Thunderwing was certain she would make perfect use of - but had the strike connected, it could have caused an injury serious enough to take the obvious advantage away from the Lord of Valckasta and grant it to the silver femme. Thunderwing knew that much. It was him who had taught her that form of strike, and he was pleased to see her use it in the most correct way.

Thunderwing held his own sword with two hands as he began to step forward again and thrust down in a straight line, with swift motion at Silverstrike, in attempt to minimize the time she had won.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

Unknown to the shining angel her essence had come to par with her lord. Her movements were as if she was a piece of living art, but her heart remained lacking. Forever just out of reach, truly is she had embraced her creators teachings her kick would have contact. The power and the ora were there that made Thunderwing virtually unbeatable was there in his silver daughter. But she did not make the connection, like a swimmer drowning in a powerful current or a trapeze artist missing the swing and falling, falling. She was so close yet she could not “see” what it was that The lord of Tyrest knew was there. She danced blindly as their souls connected unaware of what the Prince of Valkasta could feel and how it enhanced his skills.

She let the momentum of her kick spin her torso round as her leg cut through the air. She pulled her head down letting her shoulders follow through, in her motion a fountain of sparks showered Thunderwing as her wounded wing swung close to his body. Her optics flickered weakly as she came to a halt. Kneeling her blade now cradled in her delicate silver fingers. If robots could breath the argent femme would have been struggling for breath. But to the optics of onlookers it almost appeared as if she was submitting to Thunderwing's killing blow. Head down sword pressed against the ground under her hand. His sword came down upon her and like a viper she struck. The blue light of her blade biting into his downward cut. But the mech was so much more powerful than her lithe frame could handle. Her body shuddered under the stress of holding him off. The hiss of hot fluids broke the silence as they ran down her wing and hit the floor.

Their Blade lock felt like an eternity to her, as the swords slowly inched towards her. She did not have the power to call upon her inner strength though it taunted her. Her circuits screamed in agony as they popped ans sizzled under the power re-rout automatically taking place inside. Still she would not give in..... she would never yield to him or anyone else for that matter. She was no seeker who would run to save his worthless hull. Her optics narrowed as the thought ran through her mind. She was not afraid to die. The war was unending and she knew one day she would face the call of the reaper, but not at the hands of Thunderwing, no he would not take any more from her.

She pushed back with her anger, pushing at his blade with what she had left. Her face twisted in determination. Light danced across the room from her clipped wing and reflective body. Her anger blinded her she had all but forgotten Mindwipe was there watching.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

Struggle.

Struggle was essential to those who aimed for any sort of higher goals in their function-cycles. It was the concept that defined those who would not afford to allow themselves swayed, who would muster all the force and effort at their disposal and blend it with their will to fend off any inner and outer circumstances that stormed against them, to throw them off the path they had chosed for themselves.

Thunderwing saw the young femme right in front of him struggle. The Warlord had no qualms or uncertainites as to his own superiority over the smaller, more fragile looking construct, still did the femme not bow. She resisted and fought with all the power she could summon from deep inside her spark. Even if that spark had flames that had not yet lit up.

Her lively, azure optics glowed and flickered with determination, bound into that of Thunderwing's, reflecting the other's flashes. So did their weapons, the blades skidding against one another, the screeching, sizzling sound filling the whole of the chamber, the edges dancing only a few inches away from the outer layers of their frame plating.

A struggle it had been, but only on Silverstrike's part. Thunderwing was more than satisfied with their duel, even if the silvery, shining femme made a performance that left room for improvement. But the changes he wanted to happen and for which he had trained her for an extended, very long period of time, were slowly but surely forming and undergoing in her spark, and they were showing, even more, reflecting in the way she behaved during the swordfighting sessions.

Thunderwing could read into others easily during such trainings. He could measure them, perceive them, experience them, understand them or even control them. It was a clean method of drawing a picture of those around him. It was a talent that a Valckastan heir had to bear, it was indispensible to judge those he crossed paths with unerringly. And Thunderwing used the trait as best as he could.

Pushing his sword forward, he gained a minimal space, but more than enough to set his frame in motion. Pushing the sword to one side, he launched his knee upwards, hitting Silverstrike on her side, throwing her off balance, then he released the handle of his sword with one hand and struck a backhand blow at the femme's cranial unit. Silverstrike thudded against the floor, and though she was still fully at her senses, before she could move to get up, she found the tip of Thunderwing's sword pointing at her face from up close.

"Well done," Thunderwing's even voice waved, satisfaction visible on his facial structure as she stood above her for an astrosecond or two. "Have the needed repairs to your frame made."

He withdrew his sword and housed it in its sheath, the blade ceased to flicker as it entered the socket. Then, he turned and walked away, with the same determined, fluent steps as he had entered the chamber earlier. Only one step before the exit he stopped and turned halfway back, settling his jade optics once again on Silverstrike.

"Meet me in the hangar in twelve breems. We depart for the Tagan Heights." He said, then disappeared into the dim shades of the maze-like corridors.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

Paying no more attention to Thunderwing than the one of the few remaining members of Cybertron's ancient nobility gave to him, Clench waited patiently until the lord of Tyrest took his leave before making his presence known.

"Bravo."

Clench said, clapping his hands together couple of times without showing much excitement. The former promoter and pitfighter in the forbidden arena circuit during pax Cybertronia had entered the Chamber of Silence only moments before the fight between Thunderwing and Silverstrike had ended. Thus allowing him to observe the showdown for a moment next to the only doorway out of the chamber. The stubborn resilience of the silver femme had not gone unnoticed by him.

"This one has guts. You sure she is your apprentice?" The hulking commando remarked to Mindwipe and walked up to Silverstrike to have a better look of her. Had Thunderwing made Silverstrike feel weaker, Clench's presence was overpowering in comparison.

"You fight with passion. Resilience. You might have been a good pitfighter. If you had a sense of self preservation."

With that said, Clench's eerie emerald green gaze turned to pierce Mindwipe. "You are late."

Chamber of Silence

Mindwipe watched in horror as that wretched aristocrat carved up Silverstrike's body once again. The fact that he used a sword now did not make this any different than his experiments upon the femme so many orns ago. Both affronted the former priest in nearly equal measure.

Which was the true issue, really. In his time the shrikebat had lured, captured, or otherwise procured many subjects just like her for the experiments of his own master, Scorponok. And yet, somehow it bothered him deeply what had happened to Silverstrike, and her long-dead friend, Starburst. It always had, during his long association with the traumatized femme.

What made their case any different than the scores he himself had led to just such a fate? Or was it simply that it had been the first time he had considered the consequences of his actions? Perhaps. But if so, it had not prevented him from leading others to their doom in the laboratories of Kolkular.

Whatever the case was, the sight of Silverstrike's wound incensed the necromancer. He could not let this happen. If all that meant was that he joined the femme in destruction, he would accept that fate. He would not stand by and allow Thunderwing to murder his favored pupil.

Once I do this thing, there can be no going back, Mindwipe concluded. Even if we triumph in this battle, we will be hunted mechanoids. Outlaws. He made his decision.

So be it.

As the shrikebat prepared to strike from above, Thunderwing ended the fight. His smarmy words of praise to the argent femme chaffed the hypnotist. First he tortures her, alters her frame, all but enslaves her, and now he patronizes her? he thought venomously. Is that the nobility of the Valckastan line?

No sooner had Mindwipe dropped to the ground to check on Silverstrike than Clench announced his presence. Slag it all to the Pit. Sparing a lingering glance at his wounded protegee, the former priest faced his Commander, prepared to deal with the consequences of his disobedience.

With some Decepticon officers, an easily concocted string of platitudes and lies was enough to avoid the worst punishments. But Clench was not one of those officers. No, any sort of excuse, even a legitimate one, was likely to anger him further. So instead, Mindwipe answered simply, and directly.

"Indeed I am Sir. My...apologies. I am prepared to depart...immediately. Yes."

Chamber of Silence

The Valckastan Prince took her down with simple ease. Her argent feminine body hit the decorative floor with an echoing ring. She did not move as the tip of his sword came to hover inches from her glacier hued optics. She could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he loomed above her. She did not look at him nor Mindwipe, instead she stared angrily at one of the figures by the wall, a forgotten gladiator, its unseeing optics staring back at her.

Thunderwing moved away, and she struggled to prop herself up, wincing as pain shot through her internal systems. She moved her arm to deactivate her sword just as the Lord of Tyrest stopped in the door frame. As he addressed her the silver angel’s gaze rose to meet his glowing jade optics.

“Yes my lord.”

She mumbled barely audible knowing there was no way out of it. He was going to be keeping track of her and she knew it. She was nanno seconds from slamming her fist into the floor when Clench appeared. His hallow applause echoed through the chamber. His presence startled her as she looked up at him from her awkward position upon the floor. His stance gave a menacing feel, as if his shadow sucked all hope from those it touched. She felt small as he stood over her judging her with a scrutinizing professional eye. His words hit her as his strong voice carried across the room. Slightly bemused she silently wondered ….. ~Was that a complement from Clench?~

Her ponderings were cut short as he turned his attention onto Mindwipe. By the tone of his voice it was obvious the imposing mech was at the least, annoyed with the hypnotist. She got painfully to her feet, though her frame was battered and damaged, she still held the artistic elegance that set her apart from the other seekers, it was how Thunderwing had designed her to be. She took the few steps that separated her from her severed wing, she knelt to retrieve it from the floor. Without her control the element bonded to her meal had gone flux again, which meant she would have to do most of the repairs with her own hands guided by the medical drones. She had learned a few things from assisting Thunderwing in his labs but, there was nothing she could think of to prevent her hull from poisoning those who touched it in flux. The death it incurred was painful, a torturer she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She was the only one known to have survived the grafting process. The element was even in her wires and circuitry. She had once been told by an old friend with beauty there is a price. Well she had not asked to be this way.

Her optics settled on the fluid trail that followed her, this time she had been schooled hard, there was no doubt a mistake would have been the end of her. The burn of her sapphire optics dulled a moment as she realized, Clench had seen it too … her flaw, she held no lust for self preservation. Her optics re-gained their brightness as her gaze lingered on Mindwipe. If it had not been for the Necromancer she would not even be functioning. They had met shortly after Thunderwing had repaired her from Megatron’s blast. She often wondered why she had not perished that day under the Decepticon Overloard’s punishment. And then again how many Transformers would dare to rush the Con ruler unarmed?

She tucked the wing under her arm, her optics still fixed on the red, black and purple form of Mindwipe. Most Decepticons treated him in a manner that was by far lacking of what he deserved. Something she would never do. She felt sympathy for him, it was not a good circumstance to have Clench mad at you at any level. There was nothing the silver femme could do to help him.

With her free hand she saluted Clench, “Thank you for your professional opinion sir.”

Her optics flashed as she turned away from them. Though she could still see their reflection in her own hull as she made her way to the door. She did not risk any words to Mindwipe, she was sure he knew she was silent in their best interest. Her footsteps rang like the light tap of an anvil as she crossed into the repair bay.


Repair bay

Inside the drones fussed over her as she reconnected the wires to her wing making it safe to touch. Once that was accomplished the drones went to work on her frame. They had been programmed to deal with her unique build, since they had been serving under Thunderwing for some time now. As the drones put the finishing seal on her seams, with the electromagnetic ionizer. She finished her recharge and slid off the table. Without Mindwipe’s help she was unable to use a proper RC chamber, for whenever she went off line she awoke screaming to tormenting nightmares. So an online recharge/refuel was the best she could do.

Hanger

She made her way to the hanger. She was early since she had directed the drones to work on her two at a time. Her optics ran over the ships resting in the vast landing space. Her attention lingered on a medium sized craft capable of space flight and highly maneuverable. It reminded her of the star craft she once flew before becoming a Decepticon. Of the three friends that had graduated from Aviation Space Flight Academy, Divebomb had been the best and highest ranked in the class, but he could never match her spirit for adventure and her love of aerobatics and speed. She off lined her optics as she thought of Starburst, he never wanted to be part of the war, but he still paid for it with his life.

Tyrest – Starport

A medium sized craft circled once above the starport before coming to a landing on one of the designated empty spots. The ship touched down gently and quickly the landing ramp extended and the main hatch opened. A pair of glowing red eyes could be seen through the steam released from the cooling engines. The eyes moved and a figured emerged from the mist. The Emperor of destruction had arrived in Tyrest.

Megatron stepped out of the shuttle and quickly scanned the rest of the landing area. He spotted Skullcruncher and Weirdwolf, apparently awaiting the arrival of others. The area was empty of all others. It appeared that his surprise visit had succeeded. Of course, it would be far tougher to do closer to the front lines, especially at this time. Still, he had no desire for added security. He did not need it and it drew inordinate attention and resources. Better than he should just arrive quickly and quietly.

His visit to Tyrest wasn’t to test internal security though. He had come here with a purpose and there was no need to delay.

>>”Thunderwing, report to the Starport.”<< He felt no need to order it be done immediately or with any urgency. Few Decepticons would take longer than absolutely necessary to report to their supreme commander. Thunderwing would be along very shortly.

Tyrest - Chamber of Silence

Clench's only response to Silverstrike's salute was a slight nod. He had not come for her, nor he had interest taking part in Mindwipe's little project, let alone Thunderwing's. If something, he did hope that the silvery warrior had taken heed of his words for it would make her far more useful for the machinations of the Decepticon Empire.

"I am almost inclined to have a match of my own with you right now Mindwipe." He finally said, staring the hypnotist down, unafraid of his a mindcontrolling abilities. Considering the ominious glow of his own optics he was clearly resisting falling victim to his own rage.

"Maiming you into decommission to discipline you does not help the war effort. When I give an order. You will obey without hesitation." He added with an uncompromising tone in his even normally stern voice. "Next time I will not be as forgiving."

"Let's move out."

Chamber of Silence

"Yes...Commander Clench," the hypnotist replied in his strange, lilting accent. He started towards the spaceport immediately. All things considered, he had gotten off very lightly. Especially considering the officer in question was notorious for his temper and unforgiving nature.

Even stranger than Clench's mercy was his own near-treasonous thoughts. It occurred to him that if his Commander had not arrived at that very moment, it was entirely possible he would have learned the secret of death firsthand. To say that the astrocycle's events confused him was an understatement. The last breem had shaken the very foundations of his resolve. Yet despite all of this, worry over Silverstrike's well-being remained the foremost matter on his mind.

As he made his way through the baroque and ancient passages of Tyrest, the necromancer's concern for his protegee was tempered by the knowledge that she would be joining them in the Tagan Heights. True, it would be under the tyrannical watch of her lord, which was less than ideal. But Mindwipe was a subtle mech, when he wished to be. He could work within whatever parameters presented themselves.

As the necromancer arrived at the spaceport, he was greeted by a sight so surprising it cleared his processor of all other concerns. The Emperor of Destruction had come to Tyrest. If the former priest was intimidated by Clench, he was outright terrified of Megatron. This was not a sign of any cowardice on his part. Only a great fool did not fear the Slagmaker of Tarn.

Acknowledging the Supreme Commander with a bow, Mindwipe joined his brothers in readying their shuttle for launch.

Tyrest - Starport

The Emperor, Destruction of!

Saluting crisply, his large fist sending a clang echoing through the Starport as he slammed it against his newly-repaired chestplate, Weirdwolf stood up straighter than usual as Megatron stepped from his shuttle. It wasn't every day a Decepticon got to see Megatron in person, even if he was in an elite unit like Clench's commandos. He turned to Skullcruncher.

"Inspection surprise?" he asked in a low tone. "Interesting something more...perhaps?"

His twisted mind was already turning over possibilities for Megatron's visit. While he was content in his role as an elite soldier and tracker, Weirdwolf enjoyed occupying his vast, if extremely flawed, intellect in contemplating larger issues of the War.

Tyrest - Starport

Clench arrived to the Starport alongside Mindwipe. He was no more prepared for the sight that waited them as they exited the stronghold of Tyrest and entered the starport as the hypnotist was.

Megatron.

Clench did not fear the Emperor of Destruction like most others did. But he did respect him and fully realized Megatron's might was beyond even his own considerably power. Afterall, he had learned it first hand. Megatron had been a prodigy among the pit fighting circus that Clench had ran in the shadows with several others notorious mechanoids like Skyquake. Before the factions. Before the Council of Elders had been slaughtered. Megatron never lost a fight during has career as a gladiator. Never.

Clench's own record had been unrivalled until this newcomer beat all the records and eventually usurped the command of the pit fighting circuit from Clench by stabbing him into back with an energo-spear during a team battle where their team had been surrounded. Megatron had led them to victory that day, while all Clench had been able to do was to watch. Gravely wounded, waiting for a release that never came. Clench had never realized how far reaching Megatron's plans already were before that fateful day the Slagmaker showed mercy to him, explained what he was after - recruiting him to follow his cause instead of giving the finishing blow.

Acknowledging Megatron's presence his own expressionless way that was free of the usual behavior protocol towards commanding officers in the Decepticon army Clench waited for the next move of the Decepticon leader. Would they be given new orders or was his team to continue on the course he had dictated.

OOC - NPCing Thunderwing for a moment.

Tyrest - Spaceport

Emerging into the Spaceport only astroseconds after his Emperor's order, Thunderwing smiled inwardly at the good fortune he had had to be headed there even before he knew his leader was paying him something of a surprise visit. The stately Decepticon lifted his fist to his chestplate in salute, and then bowed slightly as well to indicate his deference and respect.

"Megatron," he said. "Your arrival is unexpected, but your presence welcomed by all in Tyrest. I make ready to travel to the Tagan Heights, but I stand ready to do your bidding before then."

Standing up straight once more, Thunderwing crossed his arms over his ornately designed chestplate.

"What brings you to Tyrest, Lord Megatron?"

Starport

Silverstrike tilted her head, optics flashing back online. The booming sound of a craft drew her attention as it landed in the Starport. She wondered who would be arriving now, when they were preparing to leave for Tagan Heights. The pretty silver femme walked quietly from behind the shuttle she had been examining, her light fingers ran over its hull as she made her way into view. The reflective female's movements stopped suddenly, as her optics focused upon who the ship had delivered to their doorstep. The ruler of the decepticons had not noticed her as she froze by the ship, and she pondered in her head how she should proceed. Snapping her thoughts bact to the situation, Mindwipe entered followed by Clench. She followed their movements with her optics as they paid the overlord his respects. She figured the best action was to greet the Decepticon ruler and await Thunderwing where he could see her. Silver had gone only a few footsteps when the Valkastan lord entered and began to speak with Megatron.

She did not wish to approach until Thunderwing called her. She may have been saucy with him but she was not venomous enough to embarrass him in front of Megatron a second time. Hopefully if she was lucky they had forgotten all about the incident. In the end she strode over to the ready area, pausing to bow briefly to Megatron as she crossed his line of sight. Her argent frame sparkling as she passed under the hanger lights. Her sapphire gaze settled on Weirdwolf, Skullcruncher, Mindwipe and Clench. How ironic she was going to be stationed with them after what Thunderwing may have assumed between her and her mentor.

Starport

Megatron nodded briefly at the other Decepticons as they saluted him. His gaze paused briefly on Clench. They had a long history, going back to the old gladiatorial battles. He still remembered when he deposed him for control of the fights. It had been one of the early, small steps in his rise to power. Now he was another one of his soldiers. He was a high ranking one, but he still served Megatron now. Some day all Transformers would serve him, even if he had to best each of them in personal combat.

The Decepticon leader’s gaze shifted to Thunderwing as the aristocratic Decepticon entered the Starport. It seemed that the other Decepticon’s line of thought was similar to his own. “Actually I was coming here to take you to the Heights myself. The situation on Cybertron and beyond is in a period of great change Thunderwing. We must be prepared for what is to come. To that end I plan to do some reassigning with my upper echelon commanders and to get their opinions on the current situation. This, naturally, includes you. You will join me in my shuttle so that we may consult in private. Your soldiers can fly escort in their own shuttle.”

With the orders given the Slagmaker turned and re-entered his own shuttle, waiting for Thunderwing to join him before lifting off.

Starport

"An honor," Thunderwing nodded in acceptance of Megatron's offer to fly in his personal shuttle. He glanced back at Silverstrike and the others.

"Silverstrike, you shall accompany Clench and his warriors," he told his protege. Many Decepticons would probably be quite uncomfortable, or downright terrified, at the prospect of sharing a shuttle with Clench his three exceptionally odd yet terribly powerful and unpredictable henchmechs. Thunderwing had faith in his young student, however. And if she cannot endure a simple shuttle ride with those four...well, then she's just not the mechanoid I believe her to be.

The Valckastan noble strode up the ramp into Megatron's craft, and the ramp folded upward behind him with a dull hiss as he boarded. The others now excluded from the conversation, Thunderwing's optics narrowed slightly in curiosity.

"What matters, my Emperor, require my humble counsel?"

Tyrest - Starport

Clench did not miss Megatron's gaze pausing on him. But he was no diviner and could only suggest theories regarding the reason for such as the Slag-maker did not contact him through comm-link, nor he ordered him to join his company. With Megatron soon leaving for his own shuttle, Clench saw no reason to waste time standing around at the Starport.

"Board the Longshot." He grunted at his men. "You do not want to give impression of being slackers to mighty Megatron, or do you?"

As he walked towards his own ship, Clench overheard Thunderwing sending Silverstrike with his team. While harboring on ill will towards the femme, it annoyed him that Thunderwing had not contacted him about it beforehand. While the Valckastan did technically outrank him, Thunderwing did not hold absolute command over him. Clench was more or less an autonomous special unit serving directly under Megatron and sometimes under other high commander per need.

Stopping and glancing Thunderwing venomously, Clench spoke to Silverstrike. "Enter the shuttle rookie. You won't be wasting energon by flying to Tagan on your own power."

Tyrest - Starport

The look Clench cast at her creator was not lost upon the argent angel. She was aware of many things and among that the unspoken endless struggle of power and respect with in their own ranks. She thanked Primus she never had to suffer such petty emotions herself.

“Yes, Sir.”

She kept the amusement out of her voice and remained serious. He had called her a rookie. Tough her lithe body may have been only a few thousand vorn old, her spark was far older, as were her fighting skills. Yet Clench was a renound Professional and Legendary fighter. he was bound to think of the pretty femme as a rookie.

It was best Clench had made the comment forbidding her to fly solo, in such that she couldn’t protest being transported with his team. Had she flown under her own power she would have arrived Kliks before the two ships which also would not have looked proper especially with Megatron heading there with them. The once pit fighter may have been labeled a hard-aft and commanded fear among the fraction, but his tactical skills impressed the silver femme enough that she found him more intriguing than the two dimensional rumors that were whispered about him.

Being around the Commandos never bothered Silver, in all her travels she had dealt with many designs of Decepticons. Though little did Thunderwing know she had been around them more often than an average Decepticon would normally be. The frightning habits of the Elite warriors had never disturbed her. Strangely she had always simply accepted them for what they were, and left it at that.

She entered the ship behind them letting her unique ice hued optics dim with the interior. She was careful to position herself away from the necromancer. To be sure she wouldn’t give Clench any more reasons to become irritated. She was silent as her thoughts focused on Thunderwng. It wasn’t often that Megatron came to see her father in person, the situation was ponderous. Her optics slowly moved over Weirdwolf, Skullcruncher and came to rest on Mindwipe. Quickly she pulled her gaze away when she realized what she had just done. Hopefully the others had not caught on.

Tyrest – Starport

Skullcruncher made his way into the shuttle with the others. His excitement for their journey had grown with the arrival of Megatron. His presence suggested the possibility of much greater things to come. Ideally that would be fighting more Autobots. He still craved the taste of one of those weak, greasy Transformers.

<hr>
Inside Megatron’s shuttle

Megatron sat in the pilot’s seat and plotted the course to the Tagan Heights. As the shuttle lifted off and began its journey on autopilot he turned to face Thunderwing.

“My battle with Prime on the moon was interrupted by an unexpected arrival. Grimlock and his crew have returned to Cybertron, along with Bombshell’s group. As you recall both teams were presumed lost ages ago. It now appears that they were stuck on the planet they were sent to investigate, locked in stasis until recently.”

The Slagmaker turned his vision outside the shuttles forward view portal, gazing at Cybertron as it passed beneath them. “I am not unaware of what this war does to our homeworld, despite what my enemy’s may think. The possibility of using up all of Cybertron’s energy, leading to another Great Shutdown, becomes more likely with each passing vorn this war continues.” He turned back to Thunderwing. “I will not allow my armies to grind to a halt due to lack of fuel once again, not after the gains we have just made, not with us on the cusp of ultimate victory.” His voice took a harsh tone. He could practically feel victory in their grasp, but it was tenuous, the idea at being denied victory because the planet beneath them gave in infuriated him.

He paused for just a moment to let his words to sink and to allow himself to calm down slightly. “The world the Insecticons were sent to appeared to be rich in energy from our probe surveys. That data is highly outdated now but Soundwave is working on updating it as we speak. I doubt that the situation has drastically changed. Even if a civilization has sprung up in the meantime on that world I do not think they could use up all of that energy so quickly. We have an opportunity to seize a definite advantage over the Autobots. If we can bring even a fraction of that energy into the war, it would be a decisive edge. I had not planned to spread the Empire to other worlds until our homeworld was put into order, but the risk of it crumbling beneath our feet is too great. At the very least an outpost on this world could function as an emergency reserve, returning to Cybertron with energon to reactivate us should the Great Shutdown happen again. Your thoughts Thunderwing?”

Megatron's Shuttle

The Insecticons and Dynobots are back on Cybertron? Thunderwing rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The return of the Dynobots was certainly an unpleasant homecoming in the Decepticon aristocrat's mind, but the Insecticons...The assassins. Ever so useful. He wondered if they had yet found their way back into the Decepticon fold to ply their craft for the Cause. The rest of the information Megatron had shared with Thunderwing was even more interesting. If there was a viable off-world source of plentiful energy, it only made sense to exploit it.

"We wouldn't be much of an Empire without a colony or two, would we?" Thunderwing mused with a slight smile. "I look forward to reviewing the details of the survey mission. Of course, if you already have decided that we will move to take advantage of this planet, I can only assume it is worth our effort."

The Valckastan took his seat, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. Perhaps...there is a seed that should be planted. He leaned forward slightly as he spoke once more.

"Pardon me if I am being too hasty, Lord Megatron, but I believe the key question in all this regards who shall command the mission to initiate the Infiltration Protocol on the planet," he said. "We must have someone reliable and predictable. A commander who can be trusted to follow the Protocol to the letter, and not turn this mission into a personal misadventure."

Sitting up straight once more, Thunderwing continued. "Of course, this important mission also offers a valuable opportunity. The planet the survey mission was sent to explore is very far away. If there were, perhaps, a certain Decepticon commander of high rank who, while extraordinarily valuable to the Cause, has been a persistent thorn in the side of the established hierarchy..."

He leaned back in his seat for effect, optics seeming to gloss over slightly as he let his thought aloud.

"And, of course, there are other Decepticons, of lesser rank and deed but still useful, who would be all the more useful if conveniently reassigned to a faraway outpost, under the supervision of said commander. He would be kept quite busy maintaining a high level of efficiency and functionality in his own unit, while sending energy back to Cybertron for our use. Meanwhile, he would be unable to cause the Empire any trouble, being so far away and so occupied by his task."

Thunderwing smiled slightly, but not so much as to seem obsequious, or too heavily scheming.

"But as always, I trust your immense wisdom in the matter, Megatron. I seek only to serve."

Clench's shuttle

Mindwipe had been pleased to find that Silverstrike would be traveling with them. But her presence also increased his current confusion. Somewhere along the line, the way the former priest saw his protegee had changed. That much was certain.

However, it seemed as if little else was. Did the glimmering femme feel the same way? Or was this unexpected change of spark his alone? As much as the hypnotist searched his processors, the answers to these and many other questions did not appear.

He needed to talk to Silverstrike. But the close confines of the shuttle made that a difficult proposition. And while the shrikebat was not seriously concerned over the reactions of his brothers, he was by nature a mech that valued his privacy. But at the moment, privacy seemed an unattainable goal.

There was also Clench to consider. The necromancer already had to contend with the interference of Silverstrike's formidable father, Thunderwing. It would not do to add Commander Clench to the obstacles in his path, particularly so soon after he had been chastised by the imposing officer.

As the commando brooded over the situation, his gaze rested upon the argent femme as often as he thought he could get away with it. At last, a solution occurred to him. Of course! Why did I not think of it before! Powering up the special transmitters he used to control the victims of his mesmerizing optics at a distance, the hypnotist expertly opened a point to point secure channel with the metallikato adept.

<Silverstrike,> he drawled silently. <Give no outward sign of this message. We must...speak. Yes. I will go to the shuttle's small cargo hold. Wait a few hundred astroseconds, and then...follow.>

Standing, Mindwipe addressed his companions. "I am going to the hold. I wish to...meditate and defragment myself. Yes." Facing Clench, he added "If you...require anything of me, Commander, you have but to call. Yes."

The mesmerist exited the cabin.