Ouroboros

The planet Earth, 2985. Population: Sarah.

The Liquidchip storms had lasted months and ravaged the surface of the planet. All human life had been extinguished. The genetic rain had reprogrammed the DNA of everything organic beyond its natural limits, resulting in mutation, disfigurement and death. After such prolonged exposure to Rattrap’s invention, not even the technorganic elements of the planet could have escaped. It may have been Star Saber that was responsible for the destruction of Earth as it once was, but it was Silverbolt who was ultimately responsible for the extinction of the human race.

Optimus Primal had done his best—he’d at least made the planet habitable for the humans again, but it wasn’t enough. A planet with grass and humans alone was not truly Earth. And now there was no grass, no animals. The planet was a blank slate. Sarah’s attention turned to Jonathon. He could still be the key she needed. Sarah floated up from the scarred surface and made her way to the Forge, where Jonathon’s body lay. As she moved, memories of her distant past knocked at the door of her mind.

Sarah once sat with Primus and the Prince of Popocatepetl. The three were equals. Sarah and the Prince were playing a game. Primus watched. The game was their training—preparing them for their future roles. Sarah was impatient, her mind clouded and she became frustrated as the Prince cleared the board of her pieces. Primus was the wisest of the three and told Sarah something that would stay with her for millions and millions of years:

“Don’t ever be afraid of losing everything, because you can always start again.”

Botanica was dead.

Rattrap watched over Cheetor as he lay clinging to life in some kind of coma in the med-bay of the Aurora. But the only thought on Rattrap’s mind was that Botanica was dead. Blackarachnia said it was exposure to the Liquidchip that killed her. She said that it was because she was plant-based that the Liquidchip had a different effect on her than the other technorganic Maximals. If that were the case then Silverbolt was to blame for Botanica’s death.

Rattrap thought back to all the times they spent together. Once the war with Megatron was over they decided to settle down on the outskirts of Cybertropolis. While he was a city rat, she loved the open spaces of the countryside. They compromised, and before too long they had found the ideal hab-unit not far from the Nemeton. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Except it wasn’t perfect at all. They were never even given a chance, and that’s what hurt Rattrap the most: the overwhelming memories and thoughts of what could have been. If only the humans hadn’t attacked, if only Botanica hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, if only Silverbolt hadn’t unleashed the Liquidchip. Rattrap held Cheetor’s hand, gripping it tightly. There was such anger coursing and flowing inside him. Botanica was dead and it was Silverbolt’s fault.

“Rattrap,” Cheetor said, regaining consciousness, “you’re hurting my hand.”

Cheetor marched onto the Aurora’s Bridge, closely followed by Rattrap. Silverbolt and Blackarachnia sat at the forward controls, silently watching the stars flash by on the view screens.

“Ready for duty, commander,” Cheetor said defiantly. His eyes narrowed at Silverbolt, flickering with contempt.

Silverbolt stood from his console, trying to smile and held is open palms out to Cheetor. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking? That if I hadn’t been struck down by this virus that I could have stopped you? That if we’d followed the original plan—Optimus’ plan—that we could have resolved the situation without millions of lives on our consciences?”

“I did the right thing, Cheetor.”

Cheetor folded his arms. “The right thing,” he repeated. “This Liquidchip weapon of yours… when exactly did you release it?”

“Right after the humans activated the Pulse, it was the only way to stop them.”

“Stop them after they had used their weapon?” Cheetor raised his hand to his brow. “That wasn’t prevention, Silverbolt, that was blind revenge.”

“But—”

“For a commander—for anyone—revenge should be the last thing you should be thinking of.”

Blackarachnia motioned to say something.

“And you’re just as bad,” Cheetor spat at her. “You helped him.”

“And you, Rattrap,” Cheetor said as he spun round. “You should have refused.”

Rattrap said: “You weren’t there. We were under a lot of stress and—"

“No excuses!” Cheetor said turning back to Silverbolt. He pointed his finger into Silverbolt’s chest, pushing him back into his chair. “I hope you feel like Hell for what you’ve done. No matter what the situation, you had a choice to walk away and leave the humans with what was rightfully theirs.”

“Well that’s a matter of opinion,” Silverbolt argued, standing up again.

“Why did you do it?” Cheetor snarled. “To get at me? I know you’ve never liked me—out of jealousy because I once had a crush on Blackarachnia or whatever—so was it because I wanted to do one thing and you thought you would do the exact opposite? Why did you do it?”

“Cybertron—Earth was my home, it’s where I belonged. I didn’t want to give it up.”

“So if you couldn’t have it, you thought you’d destroy it?”

Silverbolt had run out of answers.

“What now?” Blackarachnia asked.

“Despite what Silverbolt thinks, Earth isn’t our home. We’re going to Cybertron—the real one—to start again.”

“Now hold on, kitty,” Rattrap said. “You ever wonder why we were put on Earth in the first place? We’re obviously different from our ‘ancestors’ what with all the downsizing and the beast modes.”

“Perhaps.”

“And then there’s the question of why Earth was chosen to be turned into a replica of Cybertron and who did it.”

“Are you saying we should get back to Cybertron and punish those that did this to us and the Earth?” Silverbolt asked, subconsciously eager to get his talons into another ‘heroic’ quest.

“No,” said Cheetor. “I’m tired of the wars and the fighting. I want a chance to live something that approaches a normal life without continuously watching my tail in fear of getting killed. I want peace.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Blackarachnia.

“We make our way to Cybertron and slip unnoticed into their society. We know that the Decepticons were defeated by the Autobots—need I remind you of Megatron’s plans to obliterate the Ark on prehistoric Earth to reverse that—so the planet will be at peace and everything will be fine.

“It’s what Optimus wanted for us in the first place: for us to give the Earth back to the humans and for us to return peacefully to our true home.”

Cheetor regarded his crew for a moment. He considered his premonition in Rattrap’s lab and hoped it wasn’t an omen of some kind of karma-punishment. “Any objections?”

“So are you telling me that the humans have a Matrix, too?” Megatron asked Optimus Primal. “Is that where we are?”

“Yes,” Optimus replied. “I believe so.”

“You don’t know for sure then?”

“Look around you, Megatron,” Optimus said, gesturing the masses of human ‘spirits’ that surrounded the Axalon. “Wherever we are, it seems to be where humans go after they die.”

“Why, then, are we here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps humans and Transformers end up in the same place, and that’s why we’re here.”

“Then where are the rest of the Transformers? No, Megatron; I don’t believe humans and Transformers go to the same place after life, but I do believe they are linked. I think the Oracle was a gateway to the Allspark, and that the term ‘Allspark’ is far more all-encompassing than we first thought.”

Cheetor had made his way into the engine room of the Aurora—he wanted some time to think, away from the others. He glanced up at the pulsating Transwarp drive.

“It’s so much like the Axalon ain’t it?” Rattrap asked, his voice echoing into the chamber.

Cheetor turned to his friend. “I know. So many memories: Rhinox, Tigatron, Airazor, Optimus, Dinobot, Depth Charge.”

“We lost a lot in the Beast Wars.”

“Do you think it was worth it?”

“No,” Rattrap answered. “It wasn’t worth it at all.”

Cheetor sighed and walked over to Rattrap. “Hey, you remember when the Axalon launched and how you explained time-travel to me.”

“Heh, yeah. Something about websites or somethin’.”

“That’s right. You said that you start at the homepage and navigate from there, but no matter where you go, all the pages are always going to be there. Just because you’ve left the homepage, it doesn’t mean it’s vanished. It only disappears in your mind because you’ve moved on, but the page is still there. It will always exist. So someone who knows what they’re doing with the mouse can click backwards and forwards, skipping to whatever time they wish…”

Rattrap looked at the Transwarp drive. “Not a mouse,” he winked, “a rat!”

Cheetor smiled.

Rattrap smiled too, realising that there was a chance to be with Botanica again.

“How long can you hold your breath?” the song asked Blaster. The question plagued and goaded him. For a while now, he had contemplated suicide but he never really felt that he could go through with it. It was always at the back of his mind, gnawing at the fringes of his thoughts. He wished it would go away.

“Blaster!” a voice called, disturbing his thoughts.

Eject burst into the communications room and marched up to the Autobot communications officer.

“What is it, Eject?”

“Routine surveillance. I’ve picked up a cloaked shuttle passing through the Barricade.”

Blaster knew exactly what it was. In the hopes of building a peace treaty with the exiled Decepticons, Ultra Magnus had been having secret meetings with Soundwave, allowing the Decepticon on the planet. All this was without Star Saber’s knowledge, of course, and Ravage’s electromagnetic energy-absorbing nanobots were used to cloak the shuttle.

“Thanks,” Blaster told Eject. “I’ll check it out now.”

“Well, okay then,” the small robot said, making his way out. “Um, Blaster?”

“What?”

“Steeljaw, Ramhorn and I were hoping you’d join us later for some R&R. It’s been months since we last got togeth—"

“I’m too busy,” Blaster replied coldly.

Eject closed the door after him, leaving Blaster alone. The Autobot opened an encoded channel to the Decepticon shuttle.

“You’re a few breems early, Soundwave,” Blaster said.

“Forgive the premature intrusion, Blaster,” Soundwave replied in his most affable voice. “But I have something I want to give you. A gift.”

Blaster considered the offer for a moment. “Meet me at the usual co-ordinates.”

Blackarachnia left her seat at the controls of the Aurora and walked away from Silverbolt. “I’ve put her on auto for a while. I need to stretch my legs.”

Silverbolt looked up at her. “Well you do have ei—”

“Don’t make jokes Silverbolt, I’m not in the mood.”

Blackarachnia took the right-hand corridor and made her way towards the ship’s brig. When she arrived, the lights were off and the three cells were empty. After what she’d done, she felt this was the best place for her. “Lights,” she commanded the ship’s computer. There was a click and a hum as the lights flickered on, casting her shadow over a helmet that lay in the centre of one of the cells. She walked slowly towards it and lifted it up to her face. She had no idea who it once belonged to, but she noticed a shark fin-like protrusion on the top.

“So what did you do to be thrown in here?” she asked it. “I doubt it was anything as bad as what I’ve done.”

Blackarachnia placed the helmet carefully on the dulled floor and sat down in front of it, crossing her legs. She continued to talk: “Maybe the plan was too complicated, or maybe there were too many external factors. But regardless, my plan to take over leadership failed.”

She half expected the helmet to leap up into the air, incredulous. “What plan? What have you done?” she imagined it would say.

“The plan was to eliminate both Cheetor and Silverbolt. But instead of just simply killing them, I wanted to do it as Megatron would have done. I infected Cheetor with the virus, knowing that Botanica would be the only one who could cure him, and then if I killed her before she could cure him and blame her death on Silverbolt because of the Liquidchip then Rattrap would kill him out of revenge. But I suppose I misjudged Rattrap’s response. Yes, he’s angry, but now Cheetor is going with his ‘revenge is wrong’ theme, and I guess I didn’t realise how much Rattrap actually respects Cheetor now.”

The helmet looked blankly at Blackarachnia.

“So now what?” she asked it. “Do I prove that Hardwired was right about me and kill them all now?” Blackarachnia clenched her fists. “Look at me; I don’t value the lives of others at all. I thought I was in love with Silverbolt but right now I feel like I could kill him without a second thought.”

Blackarachnia rose to her feet, kicking the helmet to the corner of the room. “But Cheetor is right. There’s been enough death. This is our chance now to make a new life for ourselves, to start afresh.

“But what do I tell Rattrap? How can I tell him that I murdered Botanica?”

April 24th, 2003.

David sat in the waiting room of Addenbrooke hospital in Cambridge, impatiently drumming his fingers on the chair next to him. A man who sat three chairs down smiled at him, reassuringly. “It’s probably a case of too many gherkins,” he said softly.

David smiled and grunted back something unintelligible. He looked up at the clock. Three hours had passed since he rushed Jennifer in with severe stomach cramps.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was a sonogram of an unborn foetus—his little baby Sarah.

Another hour passed.

David had fallen asleep by the time the doctors had finished with Jennifer. She walked softly towards him and sat down, sliding her hand onto his leg.

“Jen?” he said, rubbing his finger under his left eye. “Is everything okay?”

Jennifer tried to compose herself, but failed. She burst into tears. “Miscarriage. We lost Sarah.”

”Do you know what an Ouroboros is?” Rattrap asked Silverbolt. His voice was trance-like, his mind clearly on other things.

“I can’t say I’ve heard of one,” Silverbolt replied, walking into the engine room.

“It’s a ‘tail-devourer’, a kind of worm or serpent with its tail in its mouth.”

“Oh,” said Silverbolt, not sure where Rattrap was going.

“It symbolises the endlessness of existence, like a war without end.”

“Rattrap, are you okay?”

“It also symbolises completion and totality,” Rattrap continued, tapping at the Transwarp drive’s console.

“What are you doing?” Silverbolt said, becoming alarmed.

Rattrap turned to Silverbolt. “Stay out of this.”

“The Transwarp drive doesn’t need to be readjusted. It’s already programmed with the location of Cybertron!”

Rattrap flicked a switch and the Aurora lurched. Silverbolt dashed over to Rattrap, grabbing him by the wrist. “What have you done?”

“I’m going back to be with Botanica—to have my time with her again, and this time we’re going to do it right.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Well, that’s funny, because I think I just did.”

“Selfish vermin. Have you no thought for the rest of us?” Silverbolt picked Rattrap off the floor and threw him across the room.

Rattrap landed on his back. “So,” he sneered, “it wasn’t enough to kill Botanica. You want a piece of me too?”

Silverbolt reached behind him and grabbed a handful of his explosive feather-blades.

“Help yourself, Silverbolt, I’ve got a lot of anger building up inside that needs venting.”

Silverbolt launched his blades at Rattrap. Rattrap accelerated forwards on his wheels, dodging the barrage. The blades exploded on the far wall, ripping into the inner hull. Anything that wasn’t bolted down was thrown into the air. The hull had ruptured, flushing the contents of the engine room out into the Void.

“You idiot!” Rattrap screamed, his tailed wrapped tightly around a nearby railing. Wind and debris whistled around his ears.

Silverbolt gripped onto the controls of the Transwarp drive. “I won’t have you endangering the rest of us for some selfish love interest.”

“Funny, Silverbolt. So what did you call it when you handed over that graviton generator to Blackarachnia during the Beast Wars? You’re always so holier than the rest of us, and for a while I even felt sorry for you, but time after time you pervert the Maximal ideal.”

Silverbolt screamed uncontrollably, launching another volley of blades. Rattrap managed to dodge most of them, but the last one his hit tail. Rattrap howled in pain, his tail recoiling involuntarily.

Before he could react, Rattrap was sucked out into the Void and was lost in the timestream.

The Oracle Chamber, Earth.

Sarah was inside Jonathon’s body once again. She wasn’t sure if the geode would recognise his DNA, what with the effects of the Liquidchip, but she hoped the damage wasn’t too severe.

The theory was thus: Beings like Sarah, Primus and the Prince of Popocatepetl were each given a Universal Fragment to watch over—a planet, a population, a destiny. There was a plan that needed to be adhered to, and if need be, the “watchers” of these planets could take form of whatever was the dominant species of the planet and put things in order. For example, with Primus it was Rodimus Prime. But something went very wrong in Sarah’s case and the body she had intended to inhabit—a daughter of David and Jennifer in 2003—was terminated by an intervening force. Her mission had failed before she had a chance to implement it, and instead of becoming a warrior race as god intended, the humans built a society of leisure and consumerism: easy targets for the Transformers.

And now she needed to access the geode that was housed at the deepest survivable part of the planet’s crust.

Sarah passed through the Oracle that Star Saber had installed to guard the geode and interfaced. After a few moments of spirit verification she was in.

“Reboot?” it asked.

The Aurora ejected from the Void in the year 2386, still on course for Cybertron.

“There it is,” Cheetor said, the shimmering planet coming into view. “It’s amazing.”

“It looks the same as our Cybertron,” Silverbolt said cynically, “I don’t see the difference.”

“I’d tell you to shut up,” Cheetor said. “But I’m worried you’ll kill me like you did Botanica and Rattrap.”

Silverbolt thought about reiterating once again that what happened with Rattrap was an accident, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

Blackarachnia watched them both from the doorway.

There was a sudden explosion on the aft side of the ship.

“What the slag was that?” Cheetor asked.

“We’ve been boarded!”

“Could be hostile,” Blackarachnia suggested. “Weapons at the ready.”

On the surface of Cybertron, Blaster continued deep into the Rad Zone, searching for Perceptor. He held the weapon that Soundwave had given to him in his cold hands, thumbing it nervously. It was made by a race of aliens called the Khyaxians, Soundwave had told him; something called a Retaliation Device that Onslaught had stolen at the turn of the 21st Century. It could only be used once, and Blaster battled on against the grit-winds, determined to make things up to Scrounge.

Silverbolt, Cheetor and Blackarachnia stood on the Bridge of the Aurora, tense and still. Since that first explosion they heard a few bangs and thuds—a rampage of footsteps that drew ever closer.

There was a sudden silence. Cheetor gripped his scimitars tightly, Blackarachnia charged her electrical transmitters, and Silverbolt clutched at a handful of blades.

They waited.

And waited.

The door to the Bridge burst wide open. The dust settled to reveal a massive blood-red robot, armed to the hilt.

He’s going to kill you all.

“Optimus?” Cheetor asked.

“Neogens,” Fire Convoy growled.

Blaster took his own life at the same time Fire Convoy took the lives of the Maximals.

Earth, 3000.

From space, the planet appeared dead and from the surface, the planet appeared dead. But in the middle of one of the plains that stretched across the southern hemisphere there was a tiny, tiny pool of water. No more than the size of a footprint, the pool was crystal clear. Oxygen bubbled floated to the surface and popped. There was something suspended in the centre of the minute tarn—a tiny amoeba, a single-celled organism.

The Second Evolution was in full swing.

Speedtrap cruised the streets of Iacon. It was amazing. Tall buildings with lit windows pointed to the heavens and the roadways were abuzz with revving engines. It was a world at peace and it seemed that every Autobot was alive with the fuels of hope.

It had taken a good few years to get here: to find Cybertron, modify his last sample of Liquidchip to devolve his technorganic body and return to his original robotic form, make new friends and develop and new personality and identity.

He would never be over the death of Botanica, but at least now he had a chance to reboot his life and make a fresh start. A voice inside his head had told him: “Don’t ever be afraid of losing everything, because you can always start again.”

Speedtrap continued towards the Arctis Academy, passing Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus. Who would have thought he’d be sharing the road with such legends. Maybe he could even get to meet Wheeljack.

There was an excited chatter behind the doors of his new hab-unit. Speedtrap stood nervously at the door, blinking his optics shut. He looked behind him, shrugging because he missed his tail.

The door opened and a blue and golden Autobot greeted Speedtrap. “You’re here!” he said, smiling. “I’m Sideburn.”

“Hi, I’m Speedtrap,” the serpent said, eating his own tail.