Transformers Fan Fiction ❯ Fragments of Memory ❯ Destination Victory ( Chapter 1 )

Fragments of Memory

A sequel to Fragments of Allspark

 

Transformers is copyright to Hasbro, and in the case of the 2007 movie, Michael Bay and Dreamworks studios. I do not own them and do not profit in any way by their mention. I do own the character ideas of Aria Witwicky, Blade Lennox, and Arianna Walther, so please don't steal their names or personalities.

 

 

 

Chapter 1: Destination Victory

 

In the Far Reaches of the Galaxy…

 

The proud warrior knelt before the gathering of his elders, on a balcony in a high tower. He placed his hands on the ground and bowed his forehead, groveling at each pair of feet. The custom allowed for his ascension without animosity, and it was a centuries old practice, and his face was a mask of serenity and contriteness.

“Please allow me to lead you, Brother.”

He threw himself at the last pair of feet, and forced the oath one last time. His insides were boiling. A senseless tradition, full of humiliation! It would be the first to go once he was their leader. He mentally checked himself and backed away on his knees, his nose still touching the ground. The council of Brother's stared at him, their gazes pierced into him. He resisted the urge to squirm. It had taken almost twenty years to climb to the top of the social order, even if his old rank was one of the highest. Contention for the honor had been brutal, and silent murders in the dead of night were a trifle compared to this moment.

“Arise, not our son, but our Leader. And bear with you, the responsibility and burdens of all your people.”

Called the Brother's in unison. Starscream could hardly believe it, as he rose as elegantly as possible. The golden dias was placed upon his head.

“All hail Starscream, high-ruler of the Decepticons!”

The cry echoed over the moon's rough landscape, as the mass of transformers below the tower cheered. Starscream smiled and pumped one fist in the air, enticing another wave of cheers from below. It was time.

 

 

 

Earth, year 2027,Margo desert, southwestern corner of Afghanistan

 

The wind was blowing hard, and sand had crept into every crevice and sensor Ironhide had. Not the first sandstorm he had endured, but certainly the worst, he remained crouched behind a small outcropping of rock. His gleaming black armor had been repainted a dull brown, with streaks of even duller brown. This made him virtually invisible to the humans huddled next to him, however, and was the perfect camouflage. Lance Corporal Blade Lennox rapped on Ironhide's arm.

“Its not letting up, should we call for evac?!” The young man shouted over the howling wind. LCpl Lennox was a rising talent in the Marine Corps, and the 19 year old son of Captain Lennox, an old friend of the Autobots. Blade's older sister, Rosemarie, was entering graduate school at 23.

 

The Autobot shook his head and pointed soundlessly to the north. A small village had been visible just over the lolling dunes shortly before the storm had hit. That village had been the last hope, and the small band of remaining Marines would get there. No sandstorm would get in their way. There were half a dozen men left, their armor and fatigues stolen in a town bordering the Margo desert. Only undershirts bearing the USMC logo were protecting them now. They had three guns, and one working radio left. No doubt the band of Marines was being searched for ravenously by their brothers, but Ironhide had ordered a strict radio silence. This village was their last hope. A slackening in the wind allowed Ironhide to scan the smooth stone bunkers ahead, and his vision picked up on something he had been searching for these past 17 years. He stood suddenly, his armor morphing into his arsenal of plasma cannons.

“Let's go, men!”

Six Marines and a giant robot skirted the edge of the village until Ironhide gave the signal with a sweeping of his great arm. Gunfire lit the blazing afternoon, and people fell to the sand, their life's blood making a horrible contrast to the terrain. Ironhide fired blast after blast until he forced his way to the center of the village. The roof of a small hut was torn off and revealed a man huddling in terror. A sigh of relief washed over the Autobot. It was over, he could finally go home.

 

Sergeant Major William Jenahide himself pinned the metal of honor on Ironhide's chest (well, it was a small magnet on the back that held it) and his had was enveloped in a giant handshake.

“Thank you, Ironhide, for saving my life. I was a prisoner of war for so long; I thought I would die in the company of terrorists. Because of you, I got to meet my grandchildren.” The Marine stepped away and his place taken by the President of the United States.

“You, and your kind, have been the guardians of our planet for almost 25 years now. But until recently we hid your existence because we were unsure of your intentions. You have shown us the way by sharing your superior technology, helping us in the global fight against terrorism, and by protecting the earth and all its inhabitants selflessly. It is because of you, Ironhide, and your comrades, Hot Rod, Bluestreak, Optimus Prime, Ratchet and Wheeljack, that this country and the world now has clean air, pure water, and is finally free of terrorism. May the human race thank you and pay you back thousand-fold for your honor and bravery.”

Ironhide was too choked up to respond.

 

Bluestreak made a scoffing noise and flipped his middle finger at the television.

“That is the biggest bunch of crap I've ever heard!” He exclaimed.

Optimus Prime chuckled. Hot Rod kicked the TV and sent it flying against the wall.

“Knock it off, boy! I'm not going to keep fixing them.” Ratchet growled angrily from a floor below.

“But it is so wrong!” Hot Rod pouted, “Crime in the U.S. is so bad that we can't reveal our location to the public, for fear of getting dismantled, and that jackass president think that because our intelligence ops and Ironhide's reconnaissance missions have wiped out extremists from the Middle East, that everything is just peachy-fucking-keen?”

Prime was no longer startled by Hot Rod's creative cursing. Wheeljack shrugged.

“Well, at least we are all home now. We can get this sand out of our joints once and for all. And we have a great base to call home, thanks to Bumblebee.”

“I suppose letting us build underground in the National Forrest in Michigan is `paying us back thousand-fold'?” Bluestreak said his voice leaden with sarcasm.

”Quit whining; this base is seven stories high.” Ratchet called again.

“Low.” Hot Rod and Bluestreak said in unison.

Prime silenced the two with a look.

“Just be grateful that the government approached us at all, 17 years ago we still had that concrete bunker. Now we have every comfort technology can afford.”

“Yes, Prime.” The two muttered reluctantly. Prime looked to Wheeljack but he was lost in thought, his head cocked slightly to the side. The leader of the Autobots uttered a sigh and looked around. He was glad of the distraction in the Middle East had brought his team, but being back in the U.S. was good. They had all visited Captain Lennox, and personally brought his son Blade home. It was a good visit, one of very few human visits they had over the past 20 years.

 

Prime was glad to have a proper base to come home to, as Bumblebee grew more than slightly murderous at the thought of working for the government; he stayed behind to receive shipments and build their new home. An impressive job, too; it was seven stories…low…since it was built into the ground. Mostly circular, Bumblebee had fashioned an entire floor for Ratchet's work, and another for Wheeljack's inventions; this was reinforced several times over to prevent the whole base from exploding when one of Wheeljack's experiments went awry, as they often did. Two floors were dedicated to private bedrooms for each Autobot, Bumblebee had taken residence on the lowermost floor. Two more floors were laden with gadgets and treasures that had been gifted to the Autobots from the government, and other governments around the world. Bumblebee just threw those were they were out of the way as he had no interest in gifts from the people who once tortured him. The last floor was designated to enjoy all the human comforts they could, with high end computers, a giant TV (now in a smoking heap thanks to Hot Rod) and a huge collection of movies. Prime wondered where Bumblebee had gone off to, a small note on the door had welcomed them home and said he would be around shortly.

“When Ironhide gets back from Washington D.C., we will need to re-paint him. That camouflage is hideous.” Wheeljack said suddenly, his head drooping to the side trying to watch the fuzzy, half-ruined picture.” Prime almost fell off his chair in surprise. He had forgotten the inventor was still there.