Thundercracker, part 1

Name: Thundercracker
Affiliation: Decepticon (Rogue)
Alt mode: Star-Sabre craft, 24th century interstellar fighter jet capable of TransWarp level 2 speed.
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(there are cameon referances in this story, try to collect them all)

The year is 2321. More than two centuries had past since the exodus fro Earth began. The Cybertronian wars had spilled upon an unsuspecting populace of the late twenty first century and in order to survive the crossfire from both sides, technological growth for mankind accelerated in leaps and bounds.
By now, Cybertron itself was dead and the last reported Cybertronian had been decades ago and by now, mainstream mankind believed them extinct. That left humanity alone in the galaxy to pick up the pieces and start again.
With the Earth environmentally ruined, mankind spread its wings and ventured out to space creating colonies first in their own solar system and then, with the use of reverse engineered Cybertronian technology, out into the galaxy to establish many space colonies and planetary settlements.
Soaring through space, flashes of white erupting around it as it soared, the comet hurtled forth like a bullet from some cosmic gun. It was a magnificent sight to watch as it seemed to nearly hurl itself in panic across the expanse of the Nebula. According to the ships scans, the object was about fifty foot long yet moving at a speed that did not make sense for its relative mass. All scientists and other techs onboard Captain Marissa Faireborn’s ship the Lazy Sue assured her that this was an anomaly worth investigating.
They were past due at their destination, the Hersir space colony and the young lady wanted to be on schedule. With bright blonde hair tied back into a pony tail, she appeared to be in her teens when she was actually now in her early twenties. This promotion to captain was a good career opportunity but she felt far more comfortable in space fliers. She as a pilot, trained for combat in space and this ship was quite sluggish.
Eventually however the scientists managed to persuade her to slow down so they could take a look and so she sat there, leaning on the arm rest of the seat that was far more comfortable than it should be, watching the techs get all excited.
“Yah for us, a space glowing rock.” She said out load without attempting to hide her sarcasm in the least.
She was quite an attractive woman, even if she were inclined to think so herself, with a trim body that H.D.F health standards kept in shape and a face untouched by any blemishes. The uniform she wore did little to hide these facts and she found herself the target of scrutiny for quite a few men on the ship. They kept any comments mostly to themselves but once or twice someone would step out of line and propose things that weren’t proper.
Marissa liked that kind of fun as much as the next girl but she was not inclined to entertain these men who primarily thought of earning career points by ‘getting in good’ with the captain.
She had joined the H.D.F at quite a young age, progressing through the academy at Drakkar colony with remarkable progress. She majored in space navigation and Astrometry. After that she became a Hyperion flyer.
After showing some degree of leadership skills, she was promoted through the ranks before finally she was made captain of the Lazu Sue. It was her task to ferry cargo ships back and forth between Mainstream Drakkar colony and the outer lying Herdir scientific research colony.
The Lazy Sue was just that, Lazy. It was fat looking vessel that had been confiscated from a smuggler and given to her for use. That might have been alright but the H.D.F had insisted on removing all the ‘non-regulation’ devices the smuggler had installed. That left this ship was hardly anything to work with and she was expected to manage.
Military ships of the line were too expensive to waste on privateer vessels she supposed.
“Woah.” Someone’s exclamation brought her out of her daydream and glancing up, she watched as the half dozen techs all began chattering themselves as they observed the comet.
From her seat, all she could see of the comet was a white blinking light outlined by a massive violet Nebula behind it.
“Someone wrong?” She asked, rising from her seat.
“Did you all see that?” One of her research scientists asked the others, apparently ignoring her.
“Maybe gravitational force from some nearby star?”
Marissa did not like being ignored, especially by her own crew, no matter how distracted they were. Angrily she barked an order for them to comply and tell her what the matter was.
“The comet it just…” Her helmsman looked baffled as he spoke. “… It just changed its trajectory.”
The captain narrowed her eyes then she glanced up through the main view screen at the comet. It had instead altered its course and now it was flying in their direction.
“Comets don’t do that, do they?”
“Not usually, mam.”
One of the techs leaned closer to get a better look.
“ Perhaps the Nebula is directing a negative magnetic field to drive it away from its course.” He ventured, voicing his opinion and some of the others muttered in agreement
Marissa did not agree with him. Her instincts were suddenly all blaring red in her mind.
“Weapons at the ready.” She remarked quite seriously.
“Captain, it’s only a comet.” Her first officer stated. He was a large man with thick red hair. “We can simply avoid…” But his words died in his throat as a blast of weapons fire erupted from behind the comet, a streaking torrent of lasers that lased at the comet as three more objects came charging at it.
The crew of the ship watched from afar in amazement as these three comets, flying in what could only be a formation, attacked the first one. They were blasting it with lasers, actual lasers, swarming after it with ferocity.
“”Weapons at the ready.” Marissa stated again and this time she meet with no argument.
The first comet flew on, doing its best to ignore the attacks by the other flying objects just behind it. It seemed to be trying to gain speed, as if it were trying to outrun them.
This small boring diversion had suddenly become a lot more interesting.
“Open hailing frequencies.” The captain stated as she returned to her chair. “Those are ships out there and I want to know who they are.”
Her communications officer nodded and her hands worked over the controls, broadcasting out towards the skirmish.
The four vessels show no signs of having opened any channels but Marissa tried talking to them anyway.
“This is Captain Marissa Faireborn of the…” She started but was quickly cut off.
“If you value your lives, leave this region of space at once.” A voice replied over the communications link. There was only garbled sound with no visual to back it up.
The voice spoke in English but with a strange effect to it that sounded almost like scrapping metal.
“If you remain in such close proximity then you risk your continued existence.”
That was that. The communication was over and no attempts to reestablish the link met with success.
“What do we do now Captain?” Someone asked but Marissa never looked around to see who it was. Her eyes were fixed on that comet like shape out in front, the one being attacked.
Somehow, she knew that the message had been sent from that vessel.
It had been a warning to back off.
Marissa Faireborn had never heeded demands like that ever since she was a child.
She said nothing… and watched.
One of the three pursuing comets managed to maneuver itself around the first and coming out in front, it blocked the escape route of its target.
The fleeing comet however did not slow down. It kept on going as if desperately trying to punch through that defense.
It failed. For whatever reason, this blockade held and the first comet was thrown back, angling sharply down from the savage blow.
That went an extraordinary thing happened.
The comet lost its white hue, the flames disappearing and revealing the sleek metal form that lay beneath. It was a vessel, built for space flight, but it had no visible entrance for a crew or pilot.
It’s wings were dented and scorched, clear evidence of its attempt to out fly its pursuers and burning up even its own structure in the attempt.
The inertia sent the vessel back some ways before it finally drifted to a stop.
The three other comets all came to a stop and hovered, keeping their glowing hue as if they were waiting.
“I… no…” Marissa’s first officer stated with drawn as the damaged vessel shuddered, shock… and then changed.
The wings folded back with the sparks from metal grating against metal, silent in the vacuum of space. The underside folded to either side as what could only be arms came forth, attached to the side of a hidden torso with the hands sprouting out from hidden depths.
Legs were next, unfolding like paper from the back with the damaged and spluttering thrusters attached to the backs of the metallic heals.
Finally a head came forth, helmeted with a near featureless face, mostly concealed by a coverall of metal with a pair of large eyes atop that conveyed the emotion the rest of the face lacked.
“A Cybertronian.” Marissa breathed, speaking but no really believing what she was seeing.
“Impossible.” Someone else said from nearby. “They’re extinct. Cybertron’s been vacant and dead for centuries!”
This towering giant of a robotic figure was humanoid, its wings angled up behind itself in a strange reversal of the angel iconography. Its form was battered, dented and scarred from battle or worse and it seemed barely able to keep its balance under its own power.
For the first time in her life, Marissa Faireborn felt well over her head.
“This is Air Strike Patrol leader, Whisper to deserting Seeker.” The Cybertronian turned its head to glare up at its pursuers. They too dropped the white shimmer that surrounded their bodies revealing their secondary configuration modes, all of them deep space pursuit craft.
“You will deactivate your weapons and cooperate in returning to your combat unit.” The speaker continued. “I repeat, you will deactivate your weapons and cooperate in returning to your combat unit. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.”
The Seeker, fleeing from that which he could no longer stand, was desperate there was no denying that. His armor plating was compromised in many places, he was running on Energon fumes and his sensors were failing just when he needed them most.
“Return?” He asked in a strained voice. “Return to the dark, the death and the cold?”
Without a moments hesitation he raised his left arm, the amour sliding back to reveal the business end of the charged particle cannon inside.
“If that is my only alternative then by all means shoot me down.”
His three pursuers hovered there silently for a moment.
Then one of them laughed.
“Alright, Thundercracker, you had your chance.” Whisper remarked and did not sound that disappointed. “Stormcloud, Tailwind…take him out.”
The Decepticon seeker Thundercracker had been running for cycles now, desperately running as he was pursued vindictively by enforcers sent to either bring him back or punish him for deserting in the face of battle.
He was so desperate and up against the wall now that he was prepared to fight for his freedom, even with he was on the verge of stasis lock.
With his systems aching from the sheer effort, he fired a barrage at the pursuer who flew in close, the one he recognized as Whisper. The blast of charged particles at such low levels was barely enough to cause the pursuit Decepticon to hesitate but that momentary lapse was all the Seeker needed to flew forth with a burst of speed.
Landing on top of his enemy, Thundercracker reached down and grabbed a hold of the edge of the left wing for support.
“Get off of me!” Whisper declared angrily, his thrusters blaring to life in his attempt to throw the un-wanted passenger away.
Thundercracker held on tight, using Whisper as a platform upon which to turnabout and fire at Stormcloud who was coming up behind him.
This shot he put more effort into, even thought it drained him to the point where he could not feel his arm.
Stormcloud wasn’t that easy to take down and he swung up, doing a loop that soared over the blast and put him within targeting distance.
Without hesitating, even for the shake of his own comrade, he opened fire. Thundercracker was able to leap out of the way in time but Whisper got a barrage of plasma bullets across his broadside.
“Agghh! You Fragging Crankshaft! You just shot me!” Whisper declared, spiraling off to one side trailing fire.
Tailwind capitalized on Thundercracker’s weakness and got in close, flying hard and fast to ram his front directly into the Seekers body with a crushing blow.
Then Tailwind transformed, his own arms and legs racing forth to grab Thundercracker by the dazed head before delivering a punch directly into the battered face.
Sent flying, Thundercracker tumbled head over heals through space towards the Lazy Sue.
“Evasive Maneuvers!” Marissa declared, long before anyone else realized they were in any danger.
But the ship was a sluggish, obese vessel that couldn’t move quickly at all. Even as she began to turn it was obvious that they weren’t going to be able to make it out of the way in time.
Marissa barked more orders but they were drowned out in the chaos as the wall of metal smacked into their ship. Fires and plasma ruptures burst up across all decks and the bridge was suddenly bathed in light as the abyss came to claim them.
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The Herdir Space colony was a free floating station that could move under its own power and was free of the orbit of any stellar object. It was here that a great deal of research for the benefit of H.D.F (Human Defense Force) was conducted. It currently housed a civilization population of three million and the station itself was the size of a city, being about five miles long.
It was a colony that could move under its own power, with engine blocks capable of propelling the oval shaped main block where the main colony’s residential area was. Within this massive orb was an environment almost identical to that of the Earth, with artificial weather and sunlight. It was a manufactured environmental shielded from the vacuum of space by a layer of metal and glass that was thin in comparison.
Currently the colony was on a plotted course that would take it around a sun near the dangerous expanse of space that had been nicknamed the ‘Demon Cluster’. As Herdir was primarily dedicated to research, its mission was to seek out unexplored areas for phenomena worth investigating.
The Demon cluster was a large expanse, outline in red and black almost like an aurora. Sensors could not detect any more than a few meters into it and probes sent inside had so far failed to return.
“Has she said anything else?” Dr. Arkeville, chair elect of the colony’s board of directors, asked as he was escorted into the hospital area about a day after the few crew members that survived the incident had returned to the colony.
“Nothing else sir, and she refuses to withdraw her statements.” One of his aids, a man in a black suit remarked.
Arkeville was a man in his early sixties, with premature white hair. His skin was pale, showing that he had spent quite a lot of time indoors and his face was angular with a hooked nose. His eyes were brown and his hair was jagged and slightly unkempt.
He wore a lab coat with a blue shirt underneath, simply clothing for a man of his standing.
The man had suffered injuries earlier on in his life, requiring for his right forearm and the top half of his skull to be replaced by prosthetics. The metal skullcap had been healed over by the skin and wasn’t visible but the right arm was clearly robotic and had controls for adjusting it just below the wrist.
As most of the hierarchy of the Herdir colony were scientists, Arkeville was quickly been elevated to the position as leader as he was a man well schooled in many schools of science from biology to astrophysics.
“If I might be so bold, sir, she has been through a great deal in the past few days.” A medical doctor added, hurrying to keep up with their long strides. “Do try to keep that in mind.”
“Thank you doctor, I’ll take that into consideration.” Arkeville replied although he did not sound inclined to take that advice.
Marissa Faireborn lay in a bed in the recovery ward.
She had just undergone surgery to correct a dislocated shoulder and to let more than a few broken bones. A blood transfusion was trickling down into her arm from beside her bed. She’d been lucky. Other survivors had not been so fortunate. Across her arms were stitches were cuts had been sewn up. With current medical technology available only the faintest of scars would remain once treatment was complete.
Without waiting for permission to enter the ward, Arkeville marched right on in through the double doors and up to the bed.
“Captain Faireborn, I do hope you’re feeling well.” He remarked conversationally, folding his arms behind his back.
The woman lay there, looking tired and ever so slightly despondent, her hair wild and unkempt.
She turned to look at him, her eyes flickering with a trace of annoyance.
“I won’t change my story.” She told him bluntly, skipping over whatever pretence he had come under. “And I’ll see that it goes on the record.”
Arkeville’s friendly smile dropped its façade and he scowled.
“You’re making a mistake Faireborn.” He told her acidly. “If you go on the record with this nonsense then your career is as good as over.”
The captain smiled with a hint of irony.
“I have all my surviving crew members of back me up.” She said although there was no humor in her voice.
She had lost much of hew crew. Men and women she was supposed to lead, all gone in an instant and it had been her fault. She had not run when that communication told her to, it had tried to warn her and she had ignored it.
Dr. Arkeville took a moment to regain his composure folded his arms, his robotic right arm clicking against its own metallic components.
“I’m afraid that your crew members… or what’s left of them… have all changed their accounts.”
Her eyes widened and then she glared at him.
“It seems that, according to their new testimonies, that they were subject to radiation from an unknown meteorite and suffered hallucinations as a result.” Arkeville carried on without allowing even a trace of emotion to show on his face. “I suggest, if you want to continue your career that you concur with their new positions.”
She stared him down, cold anger burning in her eyes.
“What did you threaten them with?” She asked slowly almost through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t threaten anyone.” He replied smugly. “I merely informed them that what they saw was impossible so I encouraged them to come up with the next logical conclusion based on that assumption.” He turned to look at her. “Faireborn, the Cybertronian race is extinct.”
She sat up too hastily, nearly knocking over the stand that held her blood transfusion.
“I saw them, Arkeville! I saw Cybertronians, and not just any Cybertronians… Decepticons!”
There was a long pause and everyone in the ward went quiet at the same time. Prometheus Arkeville glanced across, seeing how the doctors and patients in this ward reacted and then with an intense scowl he turned back to face the captain.
“Now listen here.” He started and his voice was nearly a whisper. “The Hirdir colony is on the outskirts on H.D.F territory, it’s what gives us the authority from the central government to freely develop new technologies… but that independence comes with a price. The people are isolated and when people feel isolated that generated intense amounts of fear.
They need to know they are safe. They need to know that they are not in danger. They need security.”
“And what you offer is an illusion.”
“Illusions are what hold society together.” He stood up and glared down his nose at her. “You might to think about that before blurting out things that might start a riot.” With that he turned to leave, motioning for his bodyguards to follow him.
“You don’t fool me.” Marissa remarked and Arkeville stopped. “The people would be afraid? Oh no.. I think its you that’s afraid.”
“Me?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder. “And what is it that I have to fear?”
Despite her weakened state, her answering smile was almost evil. Arkeville began to nervously tighten the grip of his real hand on his prosthetic.
“Because… if Decepticon’s have been sighted nearby that means that the one thing you dread the most is coming back…” She looked him right in the eyes. “Megatron.”
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Megatron!
Commanding… over and over…kill…KILL!!!
But those screams that repeatedly assaulted him… he tried to shut off his audio receptors every night but they were still there, an endless echo of cries of despair and begging for mercy.
But they drove him into battle after battle, an endless cycle of death and horror and began to erode at the very fabric of his sanity.
With a surge, Thundercracker emerged from Stasis Lock. All sensors went online at once as he frantically glanced around, expecting to be surrounded by enemies.
Everything was cold and calm.
Nothing moved.
Only once he had calmed down did the routine and compulsory diagnostic programs activate. Stasis lock had been engaged for at least several cycles but the internal clock was damaged so it was impossible to tell exactly how long he can been in recovery mode.
It had taken that long for his damaged systems to compensate and prevent his spark from extinguishing.
He had awakened to find himself in vehicle configuration, adapted from the vehicle he had hastily been able to scan after narrowly escaping from the Air Strike Patrol.
Despite being smaller and less powerful than the average Transformer, the sub-group dubbed Micromasters, were more fuel efficient and that was what had enabled Stormcloud and the others to keep up with him as he had fled.
This new configuration he was in was a human build fighter capable of spaceflight. His internal schematic identified it as a ‘StarSabre’. Schematic details stated that this veichle was capable of Transwarp level 1 speed.
Humans had built this? His most recent information on mankind stated they had yet to perfect fusion energy, let alone Transwarp technology. Yet Thundercracker supposed that some development must have been made during the centuries the war effort had concentrated away from Earth.
Yet, he was not on Earth. He knew what almost immediately. He could feel the drag of engines nearby and it was not possible for him to even be in the terran solar system yet. The only conclusion to be drawn was that he was on a ship of some kind.
Optic sensors were activated and he saw that he was in some kind of storage facility. It was a large chamber made of metal walls and concrete floor and ceiling. To the left there was a large door with warning markings on either side. It was a compression style door, leading to the assumption that it was an airlock.
StarSabre craft were all lined up in rows with him in the middle. Refueling equipment was nearby but these craft, according to the specs, ran on fusion-cells to power a primitive form of Transwarp propulsion.
This was by no means suitable for him. His internal structure was damaged and his reserves dangerously low. He required Energon.
“I barley have enough energy left to move.” He muttered to himself. His joints felt like they would break at any moment and his memory data was scrambled, awaiting energy input. Indeed, he could not entirely recall how he escaped the Air Strike Patrol. There were brief images of the fight and an explosion but he could not remember anything else. “Wait… if this is a ship, then it’s a ship of considerable size.”
Following that logic then it was safe to assume that the engines aboard this vessel were far more advanced. They would have to use energon.
A quick sweep of the area with long range sensors told him that there were no humans within visual range. The humans he did detect, where some distance away and in a state of torpor. Obviously this was the eight hour cycle during which humans entered into a dormant state to recharge.
With a soft metallic churning, Thundercracker transformed into his primary humanoid configuration. The transformation took much longer than it should and when he was finished, he barely had enough power left to stand up.
“Visual, audio and touch sensors all operational.” He stated, reading off his diagnostic programs. “Weapons, defensive shields… offline.” The thrusters that were barley concealed behind his protruding wings on his back and the pair on the balk of his calves spluttering impotently. “And flight.”
That last sentence he almost ground out from between silicon teeth. Decepticon personality programming allowed for pride in many areas. Thundercracker had only one pride that he cared to boast about, his unequalled skill in flight in both an atmosphere and a vacuum. The notion of being grounded, for any length of time, filled him with an intense chagrin.
He would have to be quiet while searching for fuel. The humans by now at least would have effective weapons, and there was still the question of the Air Strike Patrol.
.It would be unlikely they would have given up pursuit. It would be best to lay low, siphon off what power he could, and wait.
While Micromasters could go for longer without the need for fuel, even they had their limits. They had pursued him a great distance already. Logic suggested they would wait to replenish themselves before continuing the search.
Thundercracker had to be ready in the event of his disclosure.
The facility was not difficult to exit. The system that controlled the doors into the ships interior were simply and an effective transmitted command code had them open.
Stepping through, Thundercracker paused at the sight.
An entire globe, a reversed orb inside of which were effectively a small landmass. There were trees, forests, cities, even water and all on the inside of a curved ball.
“A space colony…” He muttered, staring out across it, from the artificially sun which dimmed to reproduce nightfall to the hundreds of access points that went from the interior biosphere to the mechanical levels outside.
The spinning of the colony affected artificial gravity, like a spinning top through space, home to possibly thousands of humans.
This was a complex vessel, with many innards and corridors, many avenues and the biosphere itself with its artificial sun and engine background noise would shield his energy signature.
In spite of himself, Thundercracker managed a weak smile.
This was the perfect place to hide.
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“You’re late.” Whisper remarked with a barely concealed sneer as the last member of the Air Strike Patrol, Nightflight, came within communications range.
Nightflight was in long range travel mode, adapting the hard outer exterior of a comet for speeds above Transwarp level 4.
“Gimme a break, I’m carrying Energon supplies for four here. It’s slowing me down.” He grumbled in reply. “I’m not a pack mule Whisper and you’re the one who ordered me to carry our reserves. If I fell behind then it’s your fault.”
“He’s got a point, you know.” Tailwind remarked, relaxing against a rocky outcrop as if he was almost half asleep.
Tailwind was shorter than most of them, with a silvery body and blue limbs. His legs were configured for the maximum in thrust efficiently, making his feet more like thrusters than actual balancing servos. His head had no visible mouth and he spoke behind a visor with only a single large, orange tinted optic as a view finder.
The three of them had stopped to rest on a large free floating asteroid in the sector and to wait for their reserves. Micromasters needed less fuel than the larger Cybertronians but they had pursued Thundercracker for light years without stopping.
“I don’t need a lecture, just get those cubes over here so we can recharge.” Whisper muttered, kicking away the rubble at his feet.
Whisper by contrasted with most of the others was almost as tall as a standard Cybertronian, with thick black amour across his back and legs. He was the most heavily armored and what he lacked in firepower, he more than made up for defense. What weapons he did have, were limited almost to standard cannons and a pair of missile launches built into his shoulders.
Stormcloud stood some distance away, glancing out across the expanse of space between them. There was an unstable nebula nearby, big streaks of gold, red and black encircling each other almost like a vortex.
“Ion rail’s weak.” He eventually concluded after a lengthy scan of the region where they had almost caught the renegade. “Can’t follow it.”
Stormcloud was the one with the darkest colorings. He did this by choice, as dark body color helped him blend in more with the blackness of space. Even in primary configeration mode, his vehicle mod was quite obvious. Thrusters were plain on his back with served wings that imitated a Seeker almost perfectly.
“I’d be surprised if you could.” Tailwind replied with a hearty and offhanded chuckle, dismissing the cold trail with a wave of his hand. “He was running on fumes even when we caught up with him. I doubt he could even make Transwarp level 0.5.”
Whisper was about to say something but before he could, there was a soft beeping noise, coming from his adaptive hardware. It was a long range, sub-space communications device, built into his right arm.
Whisper knew what this meant and his optics made a nervous twitch.
“Ooooohh….oh I don’t envy you, Whisper.” Tailwind remarked with a low whistle. Whisper’s hand slowly moved to activate the device and he was shaking all the time. The armor folded back to allow for a small screen to expand up, buzzing as the link was made.
The image on the screen was that of static before the hole in transwarp space allowed for a communications signal to pull through.
“Well?” The voice from the other side asked with an obviously irritated tone.
“Lord Starscream…” Whisper stated. It wasn’t possible or needful for Cybertronian to perspire but the expression on his face hinted at the emotional sweating of bullets. “I regret to inform you that… the fugitive has… temporarily delayed his capture.”
There was a moment of silence, not so much so the speaker could digest this but there was a time delay over the link.
“What you mean is that you lost him.” It was an accusation more than a request. “You have failed me.”
“No my lord, he has not escaped!” Whisper declared quickly. “He has gone to ground in the immediate area; that is all. He was injured and low on Energon, he could not have gotten far.”
“You had best be right about that.” Air commander Starscream remarked over the link. “If I have to suffer embarrassment in the Decepticon hierarchy because of this runaway then it is you, who will reap the consequences of that.”
Whisper gulped audibly.
“You have seven solar cycles to find him and report back. Starscream out.”