Havoc's reality. Near the Ark. Surrender is not an Option.
Havoc was sitting on a stump to one side of a small clearing full of asters, clover, and orange lilies, his optics intent on the tiny book that he held in one hand. He was aware of two life readings blinking into existence a short distance away, but recognized one and decided to let her make herself known in her own time and way.
She did so right speedily, her yellow optics dancing as she paused to stoop and deedlebeep at the flowering weeds.
"I do not think that they can hear you, Miss Impertinence." His deep voice held a trace of humor.
Hormah looked up and deedled laughter. "Lot ye's after knowin', me son. T'ey hears. T'ey jes' don' unnerstand."
Her optics returned to the flowers, and she ran a hand through the asters and clover, admiring their tough stems and sturdy systems. If these plants were Transformers they would be Decepticons or Minicons. Survivors.
"Whacha readin', b'y?" She was suddenly over by his side, leaning against his arm slightly as she peered at his book. "Trashy romance? Eh... I's read t'is un. T'ain't actually 'at bad. 'N t' war scenes're some good. T' writer knew what 'e was doin'."
"He?" Havoc looked down at her curiously. "The author's name is female."
"Yup, I knows. T'is a pen name. T'at guy usually writes t' big war books. Ides of Glory."
"Is that why you chose to read this one? Because you enjoyed his other works?" Havoc put the book away and rested his hands on his knees, intrigued despite himself by this strange little messenger from beyond.
"Nah. T'was in Blackout's lib'ary when I downloaded it all." Hormah deedled more laughter.
"Blackout!" Havoc stiffened, recognizing certain parts of her design now. "Was it he who created you?"
"She. 'N aye." She looked up at him, still leaning in her obstreperous, yet gentle way.
The old Autobot stopped to envision a female version of the big Decepticon whom he had heard had died on the first assault on Earth, then shook his head. "She, then, is one of your creators. Does she know that you consort with Autobots, youngling?"
"Aye." Hormah deedled gleefully. "She's after bein' t' one as taught me t' best way fer kissin' 'em."
There was a moment's silence, and then a faint clank as Havoc facepalmed.
"I see. So what has brought you to my environs on this fine fair day? Have you another message for me? And who is your companion?"
The little femme looked in the direction of the other life sign reading, which had not moved in all the time that she'd been talking to the older tank. Then she looked up at him, her expression beseeching now. "T'at's Mouse, me adopted sister. I ain't got ye no message. I was hopin' ye'd be willin' t' train wit' us some."
"Train with you?" He frowned, optics glinting in the shadow of his helm. "Have you no trainer in the Decepticon forces?"
"We ain't got no Decepticon forces, b'y. S' me 'n some ot'er younglin's, 'n Blackout. 'N she's good fer learnin' some stuff, but she ain't after bein' no tank."
Havoc continued to frown. "What do you want me to do?"
"Ye ever hears 'o paintball?" She grinned.
"Yes, but I fail...."
"We fills t' shells wit' paint, 'n t'en we has at 'er!" Hormah bounced away from him, deedlebeeping laughter. "I's got rounds fer yer machine guns 'n yer cannons. Ye gits t' play white. I's yellow, 'n Mousie's after bein' pink. She's waitin' out in t' clear, 'cause she won't fit t'ween t'ese trees nohow, b'y, 'n...."
Havoc's expression dropped into amazement when he realized that the stream of happy prattle showed no sign of abating.
"Very well!" He harrumphed. "I'll give yourself and your sister some pointers. What is her alt mode?"
"Come see." She grabbed his hand and tugged till he followed her across the flower field and through the trees to the edge of the little canyon that held them.
Havoc's optics zeroed in on the other tank at once where it sat in the middle of the dusty, arid landscape, and he stared. "The Landkreuzer P. 1000 Ratte. Over 1800 metric tons. Primary weapons: two 280 mm guns, a single 128 mm gun, eight 20 mm Flak 38 anti-aircraft guns and two 15 mm Mauser MG 151/15 guns. 360 mm of armor plating. Six 1.2-meter tracks with three tracks per side. Power from two 8500 hp MAN 24 cylinder Diesel marine engines or eight 2000 hp Daimler-Benz 20 cylinder Diesel marine engines."
He'd been walking as he listed the stats of the vehicle, and now he lay a hand against it as he reached it and felt a slight quiver in the metallic skin.
"But it was never built," he said, looking down at Hormah. "They couldn't find a satisfactory power source."
"In one reality t'ey did," said the little femme soberly. "'N she's jes' rememberin' how t' be a person. Ye kin' comeon out, Mousie. Havoc ain't gonna hurt ye."
There was a pause as both Havoc and Hormah stepped back, and then the massive tank transformed, rising up into a sandy-coloured femme who towered over the Autobot and who shook the ground as she slowly turned around to look down at them with gentle, uncertain optics.
Havoc had never thought that he would see the day that he felt any kind of compassion for any being who wore the Decepticon badge, but meeting the pained and confused gaze of this youngster made his spark contract. "How old are you, Mouse?"
"Ich verstehe... nicht," she responded slowly in a deep but surprisingly soft alto, her optics flicking toward Hormah. "Ich... nicht understand."
"What did they do to her?" Havoc's fists clenched.
"It don' matter now," said Hormah firmly, walking over to pat her sister on the leg. "She's here, 'n by t' grace 'o t' Greater Creator she's healin'."
Mouse rumbled and smiled at the pat, her expression brightening. "Ve play vith paint, ja?"
"Yeah, b'y." Hormah chortled and deedled, then turned and looked expectantly and hopefully at Havoc.
* * *
The exercise wound up going far into the night as Havoc became caught up in being able to shoot things as much as he wanted without running out of targets. After a time it became a match between himself and Mouse after one of them had run over Hormah with their alt mode and bent her leg. The little femme sat on a rise to one side now, deedling contentedly as she tinkered away at her damaged limb. She was covered with white paint, and had left more than one of her own marks on Havoc, but thus far Mouse had not even tried a shot despite showing an instinctive aptitude for the maneuvers that Havoc was showing her. Hormah could hear him now some distance away, calling encouragement and gentle taunts to the big femme.
"Surrender is not an option!" his deep voice boomed. "I have you cornered! What will you do? Surrender is not an option! You cannot lose a battle without even trying to defend yourself!"
There was a sudden roar of gunfire, and a startled blurt of sound from Havoc followed by the resounding clang of a large metal body hitting the hard ground.
Hormah blinked, then PINpointed over to see what had happened and found the Autobot laying spread-eagled on his back and staring dazedly up at the stars through a mask of pink paint. "Ye alright t'ere, b'y?"
Havoc was silent a moment longer as his rattled processor got itself sorted out, and then he lifted his head and looked over to where Mouse was slowly straightening up from using the two guns on her back. He blinked, then pulled himself up with a shaky 'Hmmph'. "I'll live."
Hormah tilted her head as she realized just how much pink the big mech was wearing, then glanced over at Mouse and snerked. "She git ye point blank, b'y?"
"She did." He brushed at the pale colour and shook his head, then examined one ammo belt, which was hurting slightly from being snagged on a rock. "And that right well. Good work, Mouse."
"Gut?" The big femme blinked, her slow smile lighting her face. "Did gut?"
"Yes. You did very well." He answered a query from the Ark, telling them that he was fine and that there was no need to send anyone out, then turned to Hormah. "I must go. I have duty in the morning."
She snerked and deedled. "Yeah. How ye after explainin' t' pink, b'y?"
"I'll think of something."
"Sure ye will." There was a soft clang as she impulsively gave him a hug, and then she hobbled over to her sister, who waved to him as the two of them vanished with a swish and a slight flash.
"And now...." Havoc looked down at himself. "It's time for me to return from the fairy realm... and that not unchanged. Ironhide is not going to let me live this down...."
She did so right speedily, her yellow optics dancing as she paused to stoop and deedlebeep at the flowering weeds.
"I do not think that they can hear you, Miss Impertinence." His deep voice held a trace of humor.
Hormah looked up and deedled laughter. "Lot ye's after knowin', me son. T'ey hears. T'ey jes' don' unnerstand."
Her optics returned to the flowers, and she ran a hand through the asters and clover, admiring their tough stems and sturdy systems. If these plants were Transformers they would be Decepticons or Minicons. Survivors.
"Whacha readin', b'y?" She was suddenly over by his side, leaning against his arm slightly as she peered at his book. "Trashy romance? Eh... I's read t'is un. T'ain't actually 'at bad. 'N t' war scenes're some good. T' writer knew what 'e was doin'."
"He?" Havoc looked down at her curiously. "The author's name is female."
"Yup, I knows. T'is a pen name. T'at guy usually writes t' big war books. Ides of Glory."
"Is that why you chose to read this one? Because you enjoyed his other works?" Havoc put the book away and rested his hands on his knees, intrigued despite himself by this strange little messenger from beyond.
"Nah. T'was in Blackout's lib'ary when I downloaded it all." Hormah deedled more laughter.
"Blackout!" Havoc stiffened, recognizing certain parts of her design now. "Was it he who created you?"
"She. 'N aye." She looked up at him, still leaning in her obstreperous, yet gentle way.
The old Autobot stopped to envision a female version of the big Decepticon whom he had heard had died on the first assault on Earth, then shook his head. "She, then, is one of your creators. Does she know that you consort with Autobots, youngling?"
"Aye." Hormah deedled gleefully. "She's after bein' t' one as taught me t' best way fer kissin' 'em."
There was a moment's silence, and then a faint clank as Havoc facepalmed.
"I see. So what has brought you to my environs on this fine fair day? Have you another message for me? And who is your companion?"
The little femme looked in the direction of the other life sign reading, which had not moved in all the time that she'd been talking to the older tank. Then she looked up at him, her expression beseeching now. "T'at's Mouse, me adopted sister. I ain't got ye no message. I was hopin' ye'd be willin' t' train wit' us some."
"Train with you?" He frowned, optics glinting in the shadow of his helm. "Have you no trainer in the Decepticon forces?"
"We ain't got no Decepticon forces, b'y. S' me 'n some ot'er younglin's, 'n Blackout. 'N she's good fer learnin' some stuff, but she ain't after bein' no tank."
Havoc continued to frown. "What do you want me to do?"
"Ye ever hears 'o paintball?" She grinned.
"Yes, but I fail...."
"We fills t' shells wit' paint, 'n t'en we has at 'er!" Hormah bounced away from him, deedlebeeping laughter. "I's got rounds fer yer machine guns 'n yer cannons. Ye gits t' play white. I's yellow, 'n Mousie's after bein' pink. She's waitin' out in t' clear, 'cause she won't fit t'ween t'ese trees nohow, b'y, 'n...."
Havoc's expression dropped into amazement when he realized that the stream of happy prattle showed no sign of abating.
"Very well!" He harrumphed. "I'll give yourself and your sister some pointers. What is her alt mode?"
"Come see." She grabbed his hand and tugged till he followed her across the flower field and through the trees to the edge of the little canyon that held them.
Havoc's optics zeroed in on the other tank at once where it sat in the middle of the dusty, arid landscape, and he stared. "The Landkreuzer P. 1000 Ratte. Over 1800 metric tons. Primary weapons: two 280 mm guns, a single 128 mm gun, eight 20 mm Flak 38 anti-aircraft guns and two 15 mm Mauser MG 151/15 guns. 360 mm of armor plating. Six 1.2-meter tracks with three tracks per side. Power from two 8500 hp MAN 24 cylinder Diesel marine engines or eight 2000 hp Daimler-Benz 20 cylinder Diesel marine engines."
He'd been walking as he listed the stats of the vehicle, and now he lay a hand against it as he reached it and felt a slight quiver in the metallic skin.
"But it was never built," he said, looking down at Hormah. "They couldn't find a satisfactory power source."
"In one reality t'ey did," said the little femme soberly. "'N she's jes' rememberin' how t' be a person. Ye kin' comeon out, Mousie. Havoc ain't gonna hurt ye."
There was a pause as both Havoc and Hormah stepped back, and then the massive tank transformed, rising up into a sandy-coloured femme who towered over the Autobot and who shook the ground as she slowly turned around to look down at them with gentle, uncertain optics.
Havoc had never thought that he would see the day that he felt any kind of compassion for any being who wore the Decepticon badge, but meeting the pained and confused gaze of this youngster made his spark contract. "How old are you, Mouse?"
"Ich verstehe... nicht," she responded slowly in a deep but surprisingly soft alto, her optics flicking toward Hormah. "Ich... nicht understand."
"What did they do to her?" Havoc's fists clenched.
"It don' matter now," said Hormah firmly, walking over to pat her sister on the leg. "She's here, 'n by t' grace 'o t' Greater Creator she's healin'."
Mouse rumbled and smiled at the pat, her expression brightening. "Ve play vith paint, ja?"
"Yeah, b'y." Hormah chortled and deedled, then turned and looked expectantly and hopefully at Havoc.
* * *
The exercise wound up going far into the night as Havoc became caught up in being able to shoot things as much as he wanted without running out of targets. After a time it became a match between himself and Mouse after one of them had run over Hormah with their alt mode and bent her leg. The little femme sat on a rise to one side now, deedling contentedly as she tinkered away at her damaged limb. She was covered with white paint, and had left more than one of her own marks on Havoc, but thus far Mouse had not even tried a shot despite showing an instinctive aptitude for the maneuvers that Havoc was showing her. Hormah could hear him now some distance away, calling encouragement and gentle taunts to the big femme.
"Surrender is not an option!" his deep voice boomed. "I have you cornered! What will you do? Surrender is not an option! You cannot lose a battle without even trying to defend yourself!"
There was a sudden roar of gunfire, and a startled blurt of sound from Havoc followed by the resounding clang of a large metal body hitting the hard ground.
Hormah blinked, then PINpointed over to see what had happened and found the Autobot laying spread-eagled on his back and staring dazedly up at the stars through a mask of pink paint. "Ye alright t'ere, b'y?"
Havoc was silent a moment longer as his rattled processor got itself sorted out, and then he lifted his head and looked over to where Mouse was slowly straightening up from using the two guns on her back. He blinked, then pulled himself up with a shaky 'Hmmph'. "I'll live."
Hormah tilted her head as she realized just how much pink the big mech was wearing, then glanced over at Mouse and snerked. "She git ye point blank, b'y?"
"She did." He brushed at the pale colour and shook his head, then examined one ammo belt, which was hurting slightly from being snagged on a rock. "And that right well. Good work, Mouse."
"Gut?" The big femme blinked, her slow smile lighting her face. "Did gut?"
"Yes. You did very well." He answered a query from the Ark, telling them that he was fine and that there was no need to send anyone out, then turned to Hormah. "I must go. I have duty in the morning."
She snerked and deedled. "Yeah. How ye after explainin' t' pink, b'y?"
"I'll think of something."
"Sure ye will." There was a soft clang as she impulsively gave him a hug, and then she hobbled over to her sister, who waved to him as the two of them vanished with a swish and a slight flash.
"And now...." Havoc looked down at himself. "It's time for me to return from the fairy realm... and that not unchanged. Ironhide is not going to let me live this down...."