Chapter 8

Shiv put a hand on Sideswing's cockpit as the warmth bled out of it.

This can't be happening.

Thoom! Megatron landed, pulling the Dark Star Saber out of the Spark Extractor. "Cursed Autobots!" he snarled, transforming and roaring into the sky.

Shiv instinctively pushed to his feet to follow. Fight first, grieve later. He broke into an pained lope. He couldn't fly, not with a missing wing, and Megatron grew more and more distant until he was a silver speck in the distance, then nothing.

Blue-white lights flashed on the horizon and suddenly Shiv's comm crackled to life.

::All Vehicons converge on the Omega Lock,:: a Vehicon squad leader ordered over the radio. ::Attack the Autob—::

Shiv cringed as an explosion and a cry cut off the comm. A moment later Shiv heard it again, but this time in person. Darkness extinguished the lights on the horizon as a clouds of black, roiling smoke poured over the sky, accompanied by something like a roll of thunder, if thunder never ended but went on and on and louder and louder—

Wrenching himself out of his frozen terror, Shiv swung away from the oncoming darkness and dropped to his knees, curling into a defensive position. The ground shook as the smoke poured over him (over everything), a thick gritty haze that hid the world around him.

After a terrifying half-minute the smoke began to thin and he wearily pushed himself to his knees. Shoved his hands against the rusty ground beneath him to regain his feet. Stared at the horizon.

Something had gone wrong. Didn't it always.

::Decepticons!:: It wasn't a Vehicon this time. It was Air Commander Starscream. ::Regroup and retreat! At my coordinates!::

Shiv was miles away. He'd never make it in time and he couldn't even bring himself to care. He walked and walked.

The roils of black smoke became thicker and thicker. His ventilation system struggled to expel the foreign particles of ash and grit as he stared up at what remained of the Omega Lock.

He didn't know what he'd expected the mythical device to look like. Maybe someone in the ranks had captured some pictures of what it had been like before the explosion. Currently its blackened, burning super-structure rose from the wreckage like the skeletal under-joints of a hand. Black ash covered the entire area and small fires were burning here and there.

He wandered around the Lock. Megatron was gone. Starscream was gone. The Autobots were gone. But they'd left Vehicon bodies littering the ground.

Shiv sat down and covered his face with his hands. Then he struggled to his feet and began the long walk back.

Sideswing was lying there in vehicle mode, just where he'd been. Shiv dusted the ash off him and slammed his palms against his wings to force the transformation back to bot mode—a trick every Vehicon knew—and pulled open his friend's chest just to make sure.

Soot fell, gentle as snow, settling in Sideswing's cold, dark spark chamber. Shiv gently close the chestplates.

"It's not fair." Vehicons were incapable of tears; what use were tears in a tool of war? But Shiv keened quietly, a thin high-pitched whimper of grief, as he pulled Sideswing up so they could lean forehead to forehead. "Not fair. You were the one. You were going to save us. Please. Get up."

Sideswing didn't.

Still clutching him, Shiv fell into an exhausted sleep.

The next day the shock of having a wing torn off finally struck him. He laid in a stupor that was not quite sleep, no longer thinking about Sideswing or the battle or the Autobots or anything. There was only nothingness on one side of an invisible line and pain on the other. The sky lightened and darkened and in his delirium he thought he saw a glimmer of red optics in the night. Never approaching, never retreating, just staring.

My escort to the Allspark. Waiting for me.

Since he was alone on Cybertron, without a comm capable of reaching anyone on Earth, it seemed like they wouldn't have long to wait.

There were footsteps in the distance. His systems heaved him out of medical stasis to deal with the threat. Of course it must be a threat. What else would it be?

He forced his optical feed online.

Knock Out was crunching through the rust and rubble, followed by a small contingent of Vehicons.

Their presence was so unlikely that Shiv didn't react, just continued to lay there watching them from the pile of rubble where he'd landed, watching them. The Vehicons were staring uneasily at their compatriots who'd been killed by the Spark Extractor.

It was bad enough knowing what had happened, but it must have seemed even more frightening without that knowledge. No wounds, no spilled energon. Just unsullied corpses were lying in neat concentric circles, like a madman had laid them out for display.

Knock Out, however, seemed to guess the cause of this grisly display. He daintily stepped between the bodies and poked at the ruined Spark Extractor in the center of the carnage.

"Well, the lights are out for this relic," he said in a disappointed tone. He pulled up a deceased jet up by the wing, inspecting it. "At least it left some decent salvage."

Shiv let his optical band darken again. He slipped his hand around Sideswing's cold fingers.

Sharp gasps from Knock Out's Vehicon escort had Shiv turning on his visual feed again and even pushing himself into a sitting position. One of the Vehicons with Knock Out saw him and half-turned. After a moment's hesitation, he snuck back from the group to help Shiv up.

"You don't have to," Shiv muttered, but he accepted the assistance. Then he saw what everyone was staring at.

One of the Vehicons back on the Nemesis, Glider, had a board game. He'd made the board himself, but he claimed the playing pieces were "genuine pre-War". Little die-cast mecha with laser-rifles or mine-detectors molded into their hands.

The scene before Shiv reminded him of those little playing pieces: Vehicons were standing frozen, aiming blasters at a non-existent enemy. Knock Out warily prodded one of the frozen bots until he fell over, his legs and arms still stiffly locked in place.

"Odd." Knock Out ran his medical scanner over the bot, then snapped his fingers in front of the bot's visor "Nap time's over, wake up!" No visible reaction.

Next the medic crouched to feel along the bot's joints, trying to force his arms into a new position. This he accomplished, but the Vehicon still didn't show any acknowledgement or signs of life other than the faint glow of his visor.

"Well then." Knock Out flipped out his buzzsaw. But he was still frowning.

"I know what happened to them," Shiv said. The Vehicon who'd been helping him quickly let go and backed away. The ground rushed towards Shiv, but Knock Out was suddenly there, catching him by the front of his neck-well and hauling him upright.

The black and red optics fixed on him, narrowed in annoyance. "Well?"

"Bulkhead had a relic. A . . . silver wand thing. It froze them."

"The Immobilizer." Knock Out said. And then, with supreme distaste: "Bulkhead. We-ell . . ."

He looked at the frozen Vehicons again, and then rounded on his own contingent, who were a safe distance from the medic. "Excuse you, I didn't bring you here to lounge! Back to work. And if anyone finds a relic that looks like a thin silver stick, bring it here."

Knock Out dismissed Shiv with a slight shove and moved back to harvest the bots who had been killed by the Spark Extractor. Shiv dragged Sideswing's body around a free-leaning piece of wall as Knock Out's buzzsaw began to whine.

Shiv was not against the reuse of spare parts. He himself had once had his leg casing replaced, and he was sure it came from a deceased bot. He didn't mind the idea of helping other Vehicons after his own inevitable end either; he wanted to help the others after his spark joined the Allspark. (If his spark joined the Allspark.)

But Sideswing . . . Sideswing had carved Radar's name into Knock Out's shoulder. His blood had streamed down Knock Out's face. Maybe Knock Out had always been destined to win; Shiv could have accepted that. But for Knock Out to dice him up thinking he was nobody, just another genericon . . . that Shiv could not accept.

Sideswing deserved better.

Cybertronians used to burn their dead on huge funeral pyres, but that was impractical right now. It wasn't the only way to honor the dead, though. Megatron wore the arm of a long-dead Prime and they said he'd found it in a crypt. A sort of vault for the dead.

Shiv dragged Sideswing to a place where two walls of a long-gone building leaned together precariously, setting him in their lee. He stacked smaller pieces of crumbled walls around him, over him. It was the best he could do.

Dusty, weary, aching, he forced himself to his feet and moved back to keep an eye on Knock Out.

Knock Out had efficiently dissected most of the jets and was arguing over the comms with someone—probably Starscream or Soundwave—as he proceeded to write an inventory code on each . . . part.

"No, my mission is not complete and yes I need a bridge now. I have salvage." He paused, finger pressed to his audial. "I didn't say I had relics, now did I? Yes, I'm 'playing the ghoul' as you so poetically put it. So what? I can do another sweep later. After you send a space bridge." Another pause. "It doesn't take that much energy! Ugh. Fine."

Definitely Starscream on the line.

Shiv watched as Knock Out signed off and summoned the rest of the Vehicons. He began loading them down with body parts, directing them back to the Omega Lock. Finally Knock Out noticed him and stepped over for a closer look.

"Look at you," he said with distaste, grabbing Shiv's chin and tilting it up. He took in Shiv's battered chassis and missing wing.

Shiv knew he was going to die. His body would join the ones laid out on the ground, cut apart like puppets freed from their strings. But he was too tired to care.

The medic moved suddenly, his fingers digging into Shiv's shoulder to spin him around and throw him to the ground. His foot slammed down, surprisingly heavy for a grounder, pinning Shiv in place. His spark spun faster, but he still didn't react.

"No fight left in you, hmm? Good." Knock Out flipped his buzzsaw out. Shiv turned off his optical feed and waited for the strike.

It didn't come. He onlined his optics and took a cautious glance up. Knock Out was frowning speculatively off to the side. Shiv followed his line of sight to the remaining "salvage".

Too much for one bot to carry. But maybe not too much for two.

Knock Out eyed Shiv again, speculative. "Can you walk?"

"No, sir. M-my leg—"

"Your leg!" Knock Out repeated mockingly. "Good news, I happen to be a medic." He rolled Shiv over with the tip of his triangular foot, crouching to examine the damage. "Hmph. You stay there. And don't get any bright ideas. I can take you down the likes of you any time I like."

Shiv knew this was true but it seemed that Knock Out wasn't interested in taking him down right at this moment, not when he could use him as a pack-bot instead. He watched the medic's leisurely stroll over to the dissected bodies, where he began picking through the salvage for a suitable limb.

I'm going to live. But he was so tired. Sideswing wouldn't give up. He was full of fire. He was so sure there was something better ahead of us. For him, for me, for Cantilever—

Cantilever. Sideswing would want him to live, to help Cantilever. They'd been the last two survivors of Radar's platoon.

A quick glance told him that Knock Out was still occupied with his task. Shiv slipped around the debris and quickly pulled some of the rocks off Sideswing's resting place. He took what he needed and rebuilt the "walls" surrounding his friend as best he could.

By the time Knock Out was returning with just the right leg (slung over his shoulder), Shiv was sitting on the ground, right where he'd left him. And even when Knock Out cleaved through his knee joint, he was careful to keep Sideswing's arm hidden behind his back, his fingers curling into the comforting grip of that cold hand.