Chicane's Final Cut

The cusp of Star Saber’s sword pressed onerously against the metallic skin of Chicane’s neck. The flickering of the ex-cadet’s optics reflected stubbornly in the dull sheen of the blade and the holder issued his deliciously-conceived one-word order.

“Transmit.”

Two days earlier.

Crosswise leant back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head, knitting his fingers together. He looked around the room, casually acknowledging the displays of the myriad monitor screens. He could do Blaster’s old job easily—just sit, relax and relay any important messages. And the only important messages on Cybertron of 2388 were to do with Star Saber’s abduction.

“So what do you think the green paint means?” Eject asked Crosswise, trying to make conversation with the newly-appointed communications officer.

Crosswise swung his chair to towards Eject and smiled. “Don’t know, don’t care. I’m just here to press the red button when I hear a bleep. We can leave the sleuthing to the likes of Nightbeat.”

Eject was about to chide Crosswise for making light of the role that Blaster had held for so long, but was interrupted by an incoming transmission.

“Bleep,” Crosswise said, raising his hand to Eject. “Gotta press that all-important red button.”

Eject muted his vocaliser and walked away, muttering something no doubt highly inappropriate.

“Go,” said Crosswise impatiently, pressing a red button on the console.

“I’ve found a lead,” said Chicane, via the communicator. “I’m beaming the images now.”

Crosswise watched the monitors.

“A piece of what I’m assuming is an antenna of Star Saber’s,” Chicane continued. “And Optimus Prime’s rifle.”

“I’ll pass them on to Sideswipe.”

“Yeah, but get this: Prime’s rifle has been fired recently.”

“Green paint and a smoking gun,” Crosswise commented dryly. “Case closed.”

The communicator clicked twice while Chicane thought of some kind of response. “Aren’t you the least bit interested that the two most prominent Autobots on the planet are missing?”

“Not really. Prime abandoned us and Star Saber killed Ultra Magnus. I hope they stay missing.”

“Fair enough,” said Chicane. “But this is important to me. It’s my first surveillance assignment since graduation, and if I find one or both of them, it could mean—“

“—a plaque or terbium medal for you. Big energon-burning deal.”

“Oh, don’t be like this, Crosswise. We thought you were pleased to be taking over at the communications hub.”

“Nope. And besides, it’s probationary, so if I don’t show an interest I won’t be stuck here.”

“Yes, well some of us are actually excited about the promising careers ahead of us.”

“Whatever.”

Crosswise reached forward to terminate the connection, but stopped when he remembered something: “I forgot to say, the TMU people stopped by earlier for more information. Are you settling with that motto you picked for your profile?”

“The better you look, the more you see,” Chicane replied. “Yeah, I kinda like it.”

“I’ll be sure to confirm it then. We don’t want to distract you from your promising career now, do we?”

“Crosswise?”

“What?”

“Cram a Mini-con in it.”

Chicane closed his personal communicator and re-calibrated his surveillance cameras. He glanced down at Optimus Prime’s rifle and took some more video footage of the fresh discharge that decorated the inside of the barrel.

The small Autobot looked north and transformed into vehicle mode. Of those that had survived the globequake, only he and Sideburn had retained their Earth modes. While it meant more visits to Tow-Line for tyre replacement, it also meant more energon treats; which was always a good thing.

Chicane headed North, watching the temple shrink from view behind him. It was a clear day. Above, he could make out the closer satellites of the Barricade that protected Cybertron. Secretly, he wished that it wasn’t just Star Saber that used the opportunity to return to prominence when it had been disabled.

He could see it now: “Exclusive first pictures of alien race on Cybertron.”

Chicane was a shallow individual. He was more concerned with personal glory. He wanted to be the first with the pictures and the first with the scoop.

Something caught Chicane’s attention. There was a small hut to the East. It was non-remarkable in every way—a perfect hiding place. Chicane unfolded into robot mode and scanned the area.

“Hmm,” he said to himself. “Nothing on normal frequencies.”

The Autobot walked towards the hut, imagining what was inside. Considering the evidence he’d recorded outside the temple, he narrowed it down to the logical conclusion: Having killed Star Saber, Optimus Prime had been camping out—a fugitive from the Autobots. And it was Chicane that found him!

“Now, that’s what I call a scoop!” Chicane smiled to himself.

Chicane stopped suddently, noticing movement. He saw a blade, and then he saw darkness.

Crosswise pushed his thumb onto the red button. “How may I direct your call?” he said sarcastically.

“Patch me through to the whole of Cybertron,” said Chicane. His voice was shaky.

“Are you okay?”

“No questions, just patch me through.”

Crosswise tapped a sequence of keys on his console. “This had better not get me into trouble. Or have you finally got that big scoop you’ve been hoping for?”

The communicator clicked off for a second, and then on again.

“Attention all Autobots,” Chicane began. “Star Saber is dead.”

The news of Star Saber’s death stopped Cybertron on its axis. Chicane’s voice was transmitted and bounced across the entire globe, and the Autobots turned as one to listen to his news. Despite being held at sword-point, Chicane was charged with excitement. It was the biggest news story of recent times, and it was his exclusive.

“He was found dead just a short distance from the Temple of Knowledge,” Chicane reported, trying to sound as objective as he could.

Star Saber’s sword moved away from the Autobot’s neck, indicating that its current master was pleased. Very pleased.

“Details of the his death are yet to be ascertained right now, but circumstantial evidence suggests that Star Saber was indeed murdered. And it is this reporter’s opinion that the killer was none other than Optimus Prime.”

Chicane looked up at his captor. The reply was a silent nod and Chicane finished his report. “Forensic teams have been called to the scene. Stay tuned to the Global Frequency for further updates.”

Crosswise closed the transmission and stood abruptly from his chair.

“Pretty shocking,” Eject commented.

“Hmmm.”

Crosswise paused for a moment and then started to march out of the communications hub.

“Where are you going?”

“I know Chicane, and I could sense something in his voice. I think he’s in trouble,” Crosswise said as he left the room.

“I’ll cover for you then, shall I?” Eject asked, directing his voice at the closed door.

Chicane shielded his optics from the Centaurian sunlight as he left the hut. He didn’t look back and immediately transformed to vehicle mode and sped away. His captor and his cerebral processor both told him to return home, but something inside him—a hunch—suggested that he should stick around.

The last few hours played on his mind. Usually he wouldn’t have thought twice about lying to get the attention of the public he so desperately craved, but this time it felt different. Maybe it was because he had the sharp end of a sword poised to slice his head off, or maybe it was because he’d never told such a corpulent lie.

Chicane made himself comfortable a short distance away from the hut and waited until nightfall. A dull green glow emanated from the hut, the light seeping through the cracks where the walls met the roof. He could see a shadow moving around inside the hut, yet nothing registered on his scanners. So much for Wheeljack’s improved surveillance equipment.

The Autobot focused his attention on Iacon. It existed as a light bulb on the horizon. An aurora of gold hovered above the city as ambient light filtered from the top of the Great Dome. Chicane imagined the hive of activity caused by his announcement—and despite it being the biggest of lies—he swelled with pride. “Who was it that broke the news?” he imagined them saying. “Duh! It was Chicane, of course!”

Chicane then froze as he noticed the door to the hut open, casting a long shadow onto the ground. He knew nothing of his captor, no name, and no distinguishing features. All there had been was a dark blue hand clutching at Star Saber’s sword. For all he knew, it could very well have been Star Saber. Or Optimus Prime. Whoever it was, they had done an enviable job of fooling Chicane’s scanners.

The figure walked slowly from the hut. A deep, dark laugh sliced through the still air and echoed around Chicane. The Autobot felt paralysed. The figure growled and balled its fist up to the sky. It turned its attention to Chicane just as he decided to activate his surveillance cameras.

“Whoops,” Chicane said, as the pair of dark blue hands wrapped themselves around his neck.

“I thought I told you to go home.”

“You did.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Chicane tried to smile. “Curiosity, I guess.”

“So what do you want to know about me?”

“Who are you?”

The air was sliced again with the sound of dark laughter. “The rest of Cybertron will know soon enough, I suppose. You and the rest of your pathetic mechanoid species will come to know me as your new overlord—Shokaract.”

Shokaract tightened his grip on Chicane’s neck, causing the small Autobot’s optics to flicker epileptically.

“I should kill you where you stand, robot,” Shokaract snarled.

“P-please,” Chicane begged.

“Pathetic.”

Shokaract relaxed his hold and Chicane dropped to the ground. The small Autobot backed away slightly. He asked: “What have you done with Star Saber?”

“I admire your courage.”

“I’m not brave,” Chicane admitted. “I just need to know why I lied about his death to thousands of Autobots.”

Shokaract looked down at his open palms and answered Chicane. His tone was casual. “We met. I gained his trust. He asked a favour.”

“He wanted to fake his death? But why?”

“Why would I even be interested in such trivialities?”

“Okay, then. Why did you help him?”

“You misunderstand. He has helped me,” Shokaract smiled. “Though he has yet to realise it.”

Chicane was about to ask further questions but the action of Shokaract raising Star Saber’s sword to his neck stopped him.

“Go home, robot,” Shokaract ordered.

Counting his blessings, Chicane transformed into vehicle mode and sped off back to Iacon.

The sound of jet engines vibrated Shokaract’s hiding place and the Predacon dashed outside to see Star Saber land. The Autobot overlord converted to robot mode. “Well?” he asked sternly.

“I have done what you asked.”

“Excellent, Shokaract, excellent. The Autobots believe me to be dead, and none will deny that it was Optimus that killed me.”

“So—”

“So now I am free to pursue—” Star Saber paused and his optics narrowed “—new objectives.”

Shokaract smiled to himself.

“Of course I will be needing my sword back,” Star Saber purred.

“Of course.”

Shokaract unsheathed the sword and held it out to Star Saber’s opened hand. Star Saber moved to take it from him, but Shokaract kept a hold of the sword.

“I need that sword.”

“I know,” said Shokaract. “That’s why I’ve decided to keep it.”

“What is this?”

Chicane was approaching the orbital limits of Iacon when he saw Crosswise racing towards him. The blue hovercar came to a stop and transformed. “Are you okay, Chicane?” Crosswise asked.

“Yeah. I’m—I’m fine,” Chicane said, joining his friend in robot mode.

“Good, I was worried.”

“More like any excuse to leave the comms hub!”

Crosswise laughed. Before he could come up with a retort, an explosion rocked the horizon.

“What?”

“That’s just where you’ve come from!” Crosswise exclaimed.

“Yeah…” Chicane replied, otherwise-occupied. He paused for a second and then said: “Crosswise, I need you to get back to your post. There’s something I have to do.”

“Chicane?”

“Trust me, okay? I’ve made a mistake, and I think I have a chance to make right.”

Star Saber sat up and shook his head. His audio receptors were still synapsing from the explosion. Shokaract stood over the fallen robot. The barrels of his missile launcher were still smoking.

Shokaract laughed and tossed Star Saber’s sword back to its rightful owner. “Let’s have it then Star Saber. Try and kill me.”

“Kill you?” Star Saber spat as he rose to his feet. “I’m going to eviscerate you!”

Star Saber raised his sword to chest-level and marched towards the Predacon. Had the apparent opportunity to discredit Optimus Prime not been so obvious, Star Saber might have guessed that Shokaract had been planning to betray him.

“In a way,” Shokaract said, “you are a God to us.”

Star Saber sunk his sword into Shokaract’s chest. He didn’t flinch. “After all, you created our world.”

“Are you…” Star Saber twisted his sword… “A Neogen?”

Shokaract stepped backwards, removing himself from the sword. “You don’t recognise my physiology, do you?” he said as the wound in his chest somehow healed itself.

“I—”

“Oh don’t mind that,” Shokaract smiled. “I was mutated by a Quantum Surge. It gives me… powers.”

Star Saber stopped moving. A Neogen—a surprising powerful and cunning Neogen—had survived the transplant to the cyberformed Earth, and not only that—

“—Returned to the homeworld to make the architect of our bastard race face up to his crimes,” Shokaract said, finishing Star Saber’s thoughts.

The Predacon holstered his missile launcher and slowly walked behind Star Saber. The Autobot still couldn’t move. “Another of my powers,” Shokaract explained.

“What are you doing?” Star Saber demanded.

“You’re a machine, aren’t you? Surely you have the intelligence to grasp the irony of all this.”

Out of his control, Star Saber’s hand relaxed, and his sword floated ominously away from his grip.

“I’ve studied you, Star Saber,” Shokaract said as the sword ferried into his own hand. “And I can’t work out what you hate more, Optimus Prime or organic life.”

A drop of coolant ran down Star Saber’s helmet. “I hate everything. I hate everything that isn’t greater than me.

“And nothing is greater than me.”

Shokaract then pushed Star Saber’s sword into the back of his helmet casing, all the way through to the other side via his brain module.

Shokaract then noticed that Chicane had filmed the entire fight.

“Uh-oh,” said Chicane.

“Uh-oh indeed, little robot,” Shokaract smiled.

Had Chicane not beamed the fight live to the rest of Cybertron via Crosswise and the Global Frequency, Shokaract might have salvaged the situation. As it was, every Autobot on Cybertron knew of the Predacon’s existence and that he’d just killed their leader.

Shokaract thought fast and cut the transmission with his psychokinetic ability. He then looked at Star Saber’s dead body and then at Chicane. Maybe there was a way to reverse things.

Chicane—spared from death by Shokaract for the third time—arrived at Iacon. He wasn’t sure of the welcome that waited for him. First he reported that Optimus Prime had murdered Star Saber, and then he tried to make up for the lie by beaming a live feed of Shokaract murdering Star Saber.

He expected the empty fuel canisters that were thrown at him as he drove towards the citadel. He expected the shouts of disdain from his fellow Autobots. He expected the icy glares that told him he was wrong to chase fame instead of integrity.

But the one thing that he wasn’t expecting was the figure that greeted him at the entrance of the citadel: Star Saber.

Chicane stood on the central platform. A tungsten-filament spotlight bathed him in an uncomfortable glow—all optics were on him. Star Saber stood to his left. Pitstop, Crosswise and Tow-Line were on his right, and Wildride was in front, standing on a higher platform. For someone who usually basked in the rays of attention, Chicane wished he were invisible.

Chicane was on trial.

“Fallacious surveillance,” Wildride said abruptly. His voice boomed around the chamber from his position. “Chicane, you have been accused of falsely transmitting audio and visual feeds to the population of Cybertron, convincing the public of the demise of Star Saber.”

Star Saber stepped forward.

“Clearly Star Saber is alive and well,” Wildride continued. “And I see no point in wasting everyone’s time by trying to prove or disprove that fact. However, Star Saber has asked that Chicane be given the opportunity to explain his actions over the last few days, so that it can be decided whether he can be trusted again.”

Pitstop leaned over to Tow-Line and whispered, “This isn’t like Star Saber at all. Why bother with this human custom?”

“I know,” replied Tow-Line. “This doesn’t sit right with me at all.”

Star Saber walked into the centre of the court chamber. He glanced at Chicane and then turned to Crosswise. “Will you please tell us about Chicane.”

The spotlight moved to Crosswise as he began to speak. “Chicane and I were fellow cadets at the Arctis Academy. He was training for surveillance, while I was doing communications.”

“Surveillance,” Star Saber repeated. “So you would say he always had an interest in observation?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the truth? Where did Chicane’s interests lie there?”

“Well—”

“I will remind you that you are under the Oath of the Autobrand.”

“There were times that he would distort the facts, you know, to embellish things a little to make them a bit more interesting. I mean, that’s how he got his codename—it means to deceive.”

“I am well aware of what the word Chicane means,” Star Saber snapped. He then turned back to Chicane. “I fear we made a grave error graduating from the academy. We’re hearing words like ‘distort’ and ‘embellish’.” He shook his head sarcastically. “It’s not what we want associated with members of our surveillance team now, is it?”

Pitstop could see where Star Saber was going. “Why not a simple scan of Chicane’s mind to find out why he lied in his transmissions?”

Star Saber marched across to Pitstop. “We don’t need a mindscan to see that I am still very much alive.”

“That’s not what I mean. Chicane must have lied for a reason. Maybe he was forced by someone else?”

Star Saber laughed. “Mindscanning isn’t a very Autobot thing to do, Pitstop. We’re here to give Chicane the chance to explain his actions so that we can fairly decided his punishment and future career opportunities.”

“Then hadn’t you just let Chicane speak?” Pitstop sneered.

Star Saber sneered back.

“Pitstop’s right,” interrupted Wildride. “This is a waste of time.”

“Very well.”

The spotlight returned to Chicane, and Star Saber asked him, “Why?”

Chicane recounted the events of the last week: He had graduated from the academy (Auto-Assembly Plant 4 must have been very proud) and was immediately given the assignment to search for both the missing Optimus Prime and Star Saber. After finding Optimus’ rifle he was captured by (the presumably alien) Shokaract and forced to transmit to Crosswise that Optimus Prime had murdered Star Saber.

Even without having a sword at his throat, Chicane would probably have made the same transmission. Deep inside, Chicane knew exactly why he had lied. It was a dirty truth, a small rust spot that had corroded his personality, and it was know time to let it be known to his fellow Autobots.

“I did it,” said Chicane, “I did it because personal glory and recognition are more important to me than actual fact.”

“There you have it,” said Star Saber. “A good enough reason to void your rank and revoke your qualifications from the academy.”

Chicane’s head slumped.

“Case closed,” said Wildride impatiently.

Pitstop spoke up. “But what about the footage of Star Saber being killed by that…”

“Organic?” helped Tow-Line.

“…Organic creature.”

Chicane wanted to blurt out the truth: That an off-worlder called Shokaract had killed Star Saber and planned to take over Cybertron himself. But he couldn’t.

“More attention seeking?” Star Saber suggested.

“But that footage—“

“Is not necessarily real, Pitstop,” Star Saber continued. “It is true that Chicane possesses the skills and software to render such an event for… ‘personal glory and recognition’. It was just simply all an imaginative construct. Chicane’s Final Cut.”

Star Saber looked directly into Chicane’s face. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“Too convenient,” Tow-Line whispered to Pitstop.

Happy with his cross-examination, Star Saber turned to Wildride. “That is all.”

“About time,” snapped Wildride. “If I had my way, we’d throw you into containment for such gross misconduct. However, Star Saber himself has requested that we be a bit more lenient with you.

“You are to be stripped of your rank and position within the Autobots. You have one joor to vacate your hab-unit.”

“But where will I go?” asked Chicane.

“You can rough it with the Empties for all I care. No one in Iacon is going to be interested in you or anything you have to say.”

And with that, Chicane’s life crumbled away. The promising career—the one he was so proud of—had not only reached a dead end but also crashed into a brick wall. He looked over to the other Autobots. Pitstop gave him a sympathetic look, Tow-Line shrugged his shoulders, and Crosswise shook his head in contempt. Star Saber smugly folded his arms.

Chicane was escorted away by the guards and never seen in Iacon again.

Star Saber’s personal quarters, the Autobot Citadel.

A shaft of golden light pierced the darkened room as the door slid open. Star Saber entered and then the light disappeared as the door shut. Star Saber stood in the doorway and his optics flickered slightly and then switched off.

Time passed.

Star Saber’s optics illuminated again, and the robot raised his right arm. It was a fluid, controlled movement.

From the shadows a voice asked him to, “Kneel.”

Star Saber kneeled.

Shokaract emerged from the shadows and threw Star Saber’s broken brain module to the floor. Shokaract issued another command and Star Saber picked up the module and crushed it between his fingers.

“Robots are such uncomplicated beings,” Shokaract said to himself. “Susceptible to even the weakest radio signals without their ‘brains’ to block external interference.”

Shokaract turned away from the dead robot as it rose to its feet and left the room to do whatever it was that Star Saber used to do.

Outside the window, Iacon and the rest of Cybertron went about its business. The world was oblivious to Shokaract’s existence and his control of their Overlord.

Shokaract hissed at the world. “I’m in control now.”