The Price of Freedom

Author's Note: This story is based around an AU I'm currently working on, so while there are a lot of similarities to G1, any conflict with continuity is completely intentional. Hopefully, that won't lessen your enjoyment of the story. This one is dedicated to two certain Trans-fans I know, who in turn made me a huge fan of my narrator, and to Scopeshot, whose "Hat Trick" shorts helped to inspire this one.

Freedom!

Primus, it felt wonderful, the wind ripping through my fins, the ground hurtling by outside. How long had I been stuck in that outpost? At least a week and a half, maybe more. Staring at monitors all day, keeping tabs of enemy reports, and coming to the slow realization that no one cared about a backwater security station like ours. Finally, Commander Granen relieved us, and my engine almost burst from the chassis in excitement. Sure, it came with the usual warnings of not wandering too far. He lived in perpetual, paranoid fear of a Decepticon attack that never came.

"Race you two," I said, transforming and cutting across the barren landscape nearby. This quadrant of Cybertron remained free of anything of interest. No power plants, no factories, no raw materials of any use. Just a religious site and untouched ground, ground that made the perfect place for racing.

"Redline, yer not gonna win this time!" Blaze called out from behind, revving his engine. Despite his bulk, he could move pretty well in that frame. Not enough to catch me. I longed for the day the war would end, and I could put my speed to the test against the faster Autobots who manned the more dangerous outposts around Iacon.

"Feh, you're going to blow yourselves out early," Pyre called from the back. Despite his sleek frame and incredible speed, the third member of our trio preferred to hold back, pacing himself for the long run.

Commander Granen called us the Decagon Three, and held high hopes that one day we would be important members of the Autobot army. As much as we frustrated and tortured the old mech, he loved the three of us. He even cracked a smile or two when I razzed him about his obsessive security protocols.

I, on the other hand, expected the war to end any day and life to return to normal. After all, with the emergence of Sentinel Prime, Megatron's forces were being driven back daily. We would win. And then, life would get back to normal.

--

I knew Blaze from the day I took on my first alt mode. We both dreamed of the way we would join in the Cybertron Endurance, the grueling race that ran across Iacon and into the Torus state. The race took a deca-cycle and a half to complete, and everyone had their own favorite speedster. Both Blaze and I rooted for the reckless underdog Wheeljack in the the 486th Endurance, and celebrated as hard as anyone when he won against all odds.

We started racing against each other, modifying our alt modes for greater speed and endurance. Blaze, programmed as a transport mech first, had more trouble, but slagged if he didn't work through it. He became a challenge every time we raced, and even picked up a few wins. As a courier, though, my advantage was almost insurmountable.

I remember the day we heard Wheeljack himself was coming to Decagon. We camped out at the Central Pavilion the night before, vowing to be the first in line. It was there we met Pyre, a fellow race fan. While he preferred the calculated, methodical style of Wheeljack's chief rival, Sunstreaker, we still hit it off instantly. By the time we had holographs snapped off with the champ, who thanked us for our support, we left with a new friend.

Pyre started modifying his form the same as us, though his enhancements opted for endurance over pure speed. A vorn of trial and error later, and local titles to all our credit, we were ready to compete in our first Endurance.

Megatron had other plans.

As his revolution ripped through Cybertron, even tiny cities like Decagon felt the pressure. Local Autobot leaders tried to put together their own militias, while Megatron and his army continued to ravage Iacon and the surrounding areas. In time, the three of us signed on, joining the Deacgon militia. When Sentinel Prime assumed command of the Autobots and became to pressure Megatron, we were reassigned to Omicron VII, a border outpost of little interest, unless you're crazy about the Covenant of Primus.

I never understood the decision, but it provided tremendous race opportunities. None of us complained.

--

I swerved around a corner, Blaze still right behind. I gunned my engine, dodging piles of debris that got regularly dumped in the far reaches. Against Cybertronian law, of course, but who was going to fine for littering in the middle of a war? It gave us great obstacle courses, anyway.

"Redline," Blaze said, his voice crackling over the comm, "We're gettin' a bit far out. Maybe we should turn back?"

"Don't tell me the old man's gotten to you, too."

"He did say--"

"Pheh, whatever. Do you see any Seekers in the sky?"

"No."

"'Line's right, Blaze," Pyre chimed in. "There's no harm in us wandering around a little bit."

Blaze sighed over the comm, and I chuckled. I could see him becoming just as bad as old "False Alert" Granen one day.

I swung around another wall of debris, kicking up some of the smaller pieces as I zoomed by. My engine wasn't even taxed, and Blaze fell further behind. Keep your mind on the race, buddy, I thought as we continued. I had no idea how much further out we might go, or whether we--

The ground disappeared below me, a chasm I never saw in the fading light. I crashed hard into the canyon wall, then fell to the ground below. I transformed and tried to break my fall in my arms, but the move altered my path. I hit hard, one arm smashing below the weight of my body. I cried out, and instantly knew the crash did a fair share of internal damage, as well.

"Primus! Redline, you okay?" Blaze called down.

"No... my diagnostic computer appears to be shaken up a bit, on top of everything else." I let my head fall back against the ground.

"Smooth move," Pyre said as he approached the edge of the cliff, but I saw a good amount of concern etched on his face. "Hold on a sec, we'll be down--"

"We need to get help," Blaze said. "If he's damaged that bad, we'll need someone to stabilize him."

"Are you saying we just leave him here?" Pyre frowned. "Besides, I don't want Granen biting my head off because of this. I'm sure we can help..."

"Blaze is right, Pyre. I'll go into statis and conserve power. Bring back a medic, and everything'll be fine."

"Maybe I should stay here," Pyre said.

"Don't tell me you're going Granen, too. Nothing's going to happen. Get back to the outpost, you two. You didn't do anything wrong. Just blame me... like you always do."

Blaze clasped one hand on Pyre's shoulder, and the two walked away. As they did, I let my systems shut down, hoping it wouldn't take them long to get me out of there.

--

My systems came back online seven mega-cycles later. I first felt the strange sensation of being in the air. Bright lights hung overhead, and I realized I was in a medbay. It wasn't the Omicron VII medbay, however. Too new, too small. As I tried to take in my surroundings, I heard a voice from behind.

"Thank Primus, you're awake."

I looked back to see a boxy red and white mech with a large black chevron in his head, staring down at me. It took a minute to realize that the small bay was filled with other diagnostic tables. Most were covered with white sheets.

"Wh-where am I?"

"Emergency Medical Vehicle Wayfarer. We came as soon as we heard about the attack."

"A-attack?"

"You didn't know?" The medic sighed, leaning back against one wall. "Kid, Megatron attacked Omicron VII. We entrusted some sensitive information to the base commander, and--"

"Granen! Is he..."

The medic said nothing at first, but his expression gave away the answer. "Granen didn't give up the information, even when Megatron leveled the base around him. We found what was left of him in the ruins."

My optics shuttered as I thought back to the kind old mech, optic fluid sliding down the sides of my face. "How many... how many made it...?"

"You and one other," the medic continued. "Though I'm not sure he's going to make it, either. We're getting him back to our intensive care facilities in Iacon, but I worry we'll have to put him into an entirely new body. And spark transfers are never sure things."

I remained silent a good long while as my optics fell on the shattered form nearby. Missing all of his limbs and most of his chest armor, Blaze's optics were hollow, his spark kept online only by a bevy of machinery around him.

"If there's anything I can do to help him..."

"There's not much that can be done at the moment. But trust me, I'm gonna try as hard as I can to make sure we don't lose him."

"I... I wasn't there. I should have been, but I wasn't. Granen was always scared of an attack. We called him paranoid, joked about him. We never knew..."

"Don't blame yourself. If you had been there, you might not be here right now. Just try and relax."

Easier said than done. After all, I survived only because I was reckless, because I disobeyed orders and abandoned my post. As the carrier moved back and the doctor worked on my comrade, my mind considered the debt I must now pay, the penance for surviving when so many others did not.

--

"Hey hey," a voice called out from the doorway. "Ratchet finally let me get outta there, so I guess I'm good to go."

"That is good to hear, Blaze." My optics never shifted from the monitor in front of me.

"Heh, that name don't fit no more, really." I heard him walk closer, and then pull up the chair next to me. "Doc suggested Inferno. Says it matched the new body and weapon systems a little closer."

"It works."

"So, when do ya get off shift? We got times to catch up on, and things to do. Wonder if this new body can beat ya in a race."

I finally turned my head from the monitors. "I'm through racing, Bl... Inferno."

"What the heck are ya saying? Yer not giving up on it that easily, are ya?"

"For one, racing is far too dangerous, with the thread of Decepticon attack. Secondly, I have a lot more monitoring to do."

"Yer kidding. Used to be, you couldn't wait to escape guard duty."

I sighed. I wanted to race, to feel the wind through the fins of my alt mode, the thrill of the ground rushing by below. But I had a debt to pay, my very spark committed to making sure a tragedy like Omicron VII would never happen again.

"So, when ya getting off shift?"

I looked back to the monitors, checking for every detail that the others might miss. I couldn't fail them. "Not for a while."

The larger mech stood up, shaking his head, and rested one hand on my shoulder. "Okay, I understand. But whatever you do, don't make this your life, Redline."

"I'm not sure I have a choice," I said, and glanced back at him one more time. "And the name is Red Alert."