G1/Pre-BW Fic Part One
I'm irritated at how long I take between actual story posts, so here's another fic I'm working on (slowly, very slowly). Star-crossed continues to consume my soul.
Title Out of the Dark
Continuity G1 (Pre)Beast Wars
Characters Lio Convoy, Mirage, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Silverbolt, Red Alert (if they’re not listed, assume they’re not canon)
Summary It has been a century since Optimus Prime’s valiant sacrifice ended the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons. Maximals control the whole of Cybertron, and the Predacons are scattered throughout the known galaxy. However, things are about to change...
Author’s Notes This 'universe' is the brainchild between
vixens_shadow and myself. It comes from about 3-5 hours sitting in a Barnes & Noble coffee shop, poring over the character profiles in the IDW Beast Wars Omnibus. I like to think that when Black Arachnia said that the Great war was three centuries ago, she meant Cybertronian centuries and not Earth years. There will be a much mish-mashing of the G1 and BW continuities. Somethings will be changed to fit the story, but we’ll do our best to leave it mostly intact.
He clapped the gavel to silence the hum of conversation in the vast room. “We call this Council to session at 3400 Praxorn 99.83.2. The requestor for the session is Elder Mirage. Would the other attendees name themselves.” A pause. “Council Chair, Lio Convoy.”
“Silverbolt...”
“Iceclaw…”
“Big Convoy…”
“Bluestreak...”
“Spinster…”
“Sunstreaker….”
One by one the Elders continued announced their presence, and Lio Convoy ticked off their names, finally ending with Mirage who remained standing.
“I, Mirage, who requested this council called.”
A glance at the list, and the yellow optics lifted to gaze at those present. “We have a quorum in attendance. Please proceed, Elder Mirage.”
Mirage nodded, and started without any preamble. “We’ve been tracking Predacon movements throughout the nearby sectors. Some alarming movements have been noted.” Fingers clicked on keys, and a star map flickered into existence in the empty air at the center of the council room. Clusters of colors dotted the map: reds, blues, yellows, purples, green, gold, orange. Mirage clicked more keys on his control panel, and the colors vanished one by one, leaving only the small clusters of blue scattered between masses of red. At the center of the star map stood the largest cluster of blue, representing Cybertron, and the nearby systems. “They are gathering in alarming numbers on the fringe, and we have confirmed that they are carrying large amounts of weapons.”
“Preds always carry weapons,” Sunstreaker scoffed. His optics flicked about the room, arrogant sneer curling his lip.
Lio directed a glare at the mech. “You are out of turn, Elder Sunstreaker.”
Sunstreaker harrumphed, and leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.
Lio nodded to Mirage.
The blue mech hesitated, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing. “They aren’t just carrying weapons,” he shot a glance at Sunstreaker, “they are storing them. There isn’t as much infighting as we thought there would be.” He paused, cycling his intakes. Another few clicks on the keys and the star map expanded, zooming in on the largest cluster of red dots. “We have reason to believe they have a Centralized leadership.”
Bluestreak shot out of his seat, hands slamming down on the console in front of him. “No! We defeated Megatron and scattered the Predacons throughout the galaxy.”
“Bluestreak…”
“ They’re so stupid, because they refuse any outside leadership, and squabble amongst themselves. We encouraged this.”
“Bluestreak.”
Bluestreak seemed to ignore Lio’s soft interruptions, plowing through his rant with a snarl. “Why didn’t anyone notice this sooner? It must have taken them orns to gather that many in one place without them killing one another. What are your mechs doing, Mirage?”
Lio Convoy slammed the gavel down. “Bluestreak! You are out of order!”
Silverbolt leaned over to calm the agitated mech down, and his quiet words carried easily in the ensuing silence. “You know they’re doing their best. No one wants a repeat of the war, Blue.”
Bluestreak cast a blazing look at Silverbolt, but he sat down, hands clenched on the console.
A chime drew Lio’s attention to one of the other chairs.
Spinster rested her chin on the back of her hand, watching the proceedings with interest, she didn’t say a word until Lio acknowledged her. “Who is to say that they are planning anything in particular? They are allowed to gather, after all. They haven’t done anything have they, Mirage?” Her gold optics flashed her inquiry at the blue mech.
“No,” Mirage replied tersely.
“Then I don’t see that there’s anything to worry about.”
Heads turned around the auditorium, a few pairs of optics glowing in alarm at her unconcerned statement.
Sunstreaker straightened, leaning out of his seat to close a few centimetersof the many meters between himself and the other Maximal. “The only good Pred is dead.”
“Sunstreaker, one more word out of you and you will be dismissed from this session. Use your chime.”
Another chime sounded, but this time the speaker didn’t wait to be acknowledged by the chair. “I agree with Elder Spinster. We have no proof that they are doing anything but gathering. Why don’t we reconvene when Mirage has more proof that this is indeed an overt threat to our safety.”
Bluestreak twitched, but he sounded his chime. He even waited for Lio to acknowledge him. He stood again, gears whining loudly in the metal room, his fists clenched at his sides. “The Senate ignored the Decepticons until they had become a force to be reckoned with, and by then it was too late. They killed Sentinel Prime, and most of the Senators. We’re still trying to rebuild everything after kicking them off the planet a century ago. We cannot afford to ignore them again, and I for one will not stand idly by if that is the decision of this council.”
“That stinks of treason, Bluestreak,” another voice called from Lio’s left.
“Treason?” Bluestreak’s optics blazed white and he whipped toward that voice. “Treason would be letting everything happen all over again, just because you all are too blind to see a threat until it’s tearing down your doors.”
Lio Convoy slammed his gavel down with such force that the handle bent in his hands. “Bluestreak, that is quite enough. Settle down or leave, this is a council not an open debate.” His optics didn’t leave the black and white mech even as he twisted the handle of his gavelstraight again.
Iceclaw waved Bluestreak off, taking the opportunity to speak out of turn. “Sit down, Blue, no one’s saying that we should ignore them. We just want more proof they’re actually a threat.”
Bluestreak turned a glare on the white mech, mouth open with a ready rebuttal.
Lio sighed, and directed a question at Mirage to break off any further argument. “What is the current threat level, Mirage?”
Mirage glared at the star map still at the center of the room. Lio knew then, that the ex-Autobot was certain the council would not act with the information.
Silence as they waited for more. Mirage cycled his vents a few times before venting in defeat. “Indigo, but I need the resources to reassess what they’re planning. We have reason to beli-“
“Indigo?” cried the same voice that snarled that had nearly accused Bluestreak of treason. Lio finally identified Wardog as the speaker. It did not alter his view of the mech’s objection. Not in the least. “We are very busy people and you call us out here for nothing! This Council cannot and will not act on a nearly non-existent threat level! The predacons have been at Indigo since the attack on the Scion nearly a vorn ago. Why the slag should we give you more resources when you can’t seem to use what you have. You immediately assume that the Predacons are plotting something. What if there is no threat? But you wouldn’t accept that. None of your lot would. Bunch of paranoid ex-Autobot-“
A mutter erupted from the ensemble.
“Paranoid ex… You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for all the… how many pit-slagging died to save your… sacrificed everything to resecure Cybertron you two-bit…”
“That talk will not be tolerated in these council chambers,” Lio Convoy snarled, his words a near roar.
Bluestreak shivered in his seat halfway across the auditorium, optics still white with fury. Silverbolt spoke fiercely to the black and white mech, his gestures sharp and pointed, even if Lio could not hear his words.
Red Alert chimed for the floor, and the stickler for protocol waited through the continued hubbub until Lio could acknowledge him. “They may not be a threat at this moment, but that does not mean they will not be.” He looked dreamily about the room, fingers laced together and frame sitting straight. “It would be a waste of resources if we did not allow our agents to investigate this further. Isn’t that why we have them? This movement is unusual for the Predacons, and I motion that we provide the funds to look further into this, so that when they do make their move we are not caught off guard.”
A clamor started up again, mechs addressing the floor, or simple one on one conversations to argue a point.
Lio Convoy struck his gavel down several times, demanding their attention in a stentorian voice.
When all optics finally turned to him, he gestured to Red Alert. “A motion has been made to fund further investigation of Predacon movements. Those in favor ping on frequency 88AlphaGamma. Those opposed ping on frequency 49BetaOmega. Cast your votes now, the poll closes in three breem.”
Lio Convoy waited patiently as the votes came in, pinging the small device attached to his console. The tallies slowly added up, and the auditorium filled with heated discussion both over private comm. lines as well as verbal, as the various parties sought to sway those that still had not made their decision.
He kept a mental count of the votes as the computer tallied them up, nodding when the three breem mark had passed and their two numbers matched. He looked up, waiting for the murmurs to die away. “The votes totaled thirty-four in favor and fifty-nine opposed.” His optics turned to Mirage, ignoring the flinch from the majority of the Autobots in the room. “I’m sorry Mirage, but there will need to be more proof of trouble before the Council can act on this information.”
The blue and white mech nodded sharply, but the pinched corners of his lips expressed his displeasure.
“As we are already gathered, did anyone have any other matters to be discussed?”
A chime rang out from Lio’s left, and he turned his attention to other matters at hand. That did not mean he missed the harsh whispers exchanged between the ex-Autobots on the council.
He made a note to speak to one of them, preferably Bluestreak, as the most volatile of the lot.