Simon Furman - Alignment.pdf - Simon Furman - widez2

Alignment

by Simon Furman

Book 1

What they needed, Grimlock decided, was a Unicron.

This was not a sudden conclusion. In common with most all of the Dinobot

commander’s somewhat rare insights, this undertaking had involved long hours,

days, weeks even of painstaking deliberation. Grimlock was not stupid, and not

slow, Indeed, in battle his speed, judgment and reflexes were second to none. But

he was sometimes pedestrian when it came to deep thinking.

The problem that had started Grimlock lumbering off down this particular

cognitive path stemmed from their current mission. They were now into day 78 of

a deep space odyssey to the outer fringes of the Hadean system. Their Autobot

Hyperwave skimmer was already beyond existing star charts, far into the

wilderzones, where no other Transformer - or indeed known species - had

ventured. And so far nada, zip, nothing. All they’d found was a big, empty hunk

of space and Grimlock was bored beyond belief.

Day 78 had dawned - if indeed such terminology was applicable without so much

as a single star within seventy billion light years - much like the previous seventy-

seven. As the mission’s Flight Leader, Grimlock was expected to officially

relieve the ‘night’ watch helmsman and hand over to the ‘day’ shift. What had

actually happened was that Grimlock had crashed so loudly onto the forward

bridge, he’d woken Blaster, who had let his systems idle when the monotony had

finally, totally overwhelmed him.

Both had reacted with surprise. Grimlock because he’d somehow blundered onto

the bridge when actually he’d been bound for the particle showers, and Blaster

because his internal chronometer immediately registered that he’d been in exactly

the same position, undisturbed, since Day 71.

Blaster had stalked off angrily, bound for the rec room, where the rest of the crew

had no doubt idled for the past several days, his existence a fading memory. His

intention was to amp up his chest speakers to max, plug himself into the ship’s

intercom system and fry their audio sensors with Quarian thrash. Grimlock,

meanwhile, had stared, as if confused by the bridge and its unfamiliar geometry,

uncertain of its function, and then exited without a backward glance.

In the empty bridge, automated systems ticked stoically on, charting the void

ahead, endlessly meticulous. Every spike and echo of space noise was categorized

and logged, every fluctuation in the radio-magnetic spectrum registered, every

spatial anomaly recorded. External sensors reached out long, invisible filaments

into the emptiness, probing, searching... for energon.

****

‘What kind of job that?’ Grimlock had demanded of acting Autobot leader Ultra

Magnus. ‘Me warrior, not boy scout!’ In the high chamber of the so-called Stellar

Galleries on Cybertron, Ultra Magnus sighed long and hard. He was not in the

mood for Grimlock and his inevitable tantrums. Far more pressing concerns, not

least the critical condition of Optimus Prime, weighed heavily on his mind.

He’d fixed Grimlock with the most baleful stare he could muster and gestured

wide in the generally vague direction of ‘outside’. ‘Have you taken a good look at

our homeworld recently, Grimlock?’ Ultra Magnus leaned forwards for emphasis.

‘It’s not in a good shape, we’re not in a good shape’.

Grimlock, though, just stared blankly, as if M agnus were suddenly, miraculously

speaking in tongues. Magnus sighed, settling back. ‘Pinea Omicron cost us all

dearly,’ he continued finally. ‘Maybe we did win the battle, and yes, maybe the

Decepticons came off worse, but in the end, unless we can come up with a whole

lot of energon -and fast -we’re all looking at the big shutdown.’

Grimlock kicked at some imaginary object, sulky. He didn’t like or respect

Magnus, and he didn’t like being sent on scouting missions. He was built for

combat. End of story. Magnus was speaking again, and Grimlock reluctantly

phased him back in. ‘... take whatever search arc you want, hand-pick a crew, go

where no Transformer has gone before, but please just go. Find us a new source of

energon.’

Further debate was curtailed as the far doors to the chamber swung wide,

admitting Prowl. ‘The energy research committee is ready for you, Magnus,’ he

said, ignoring Grimlock. ‘They’ve come up with some interim plans they’d like to

run past us.’

Ultra Magnus rose. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Grimlock, I have to go discuss

downsizing and other less-than- palatable options. Have a safe trip...’

****

Have a safe trip! Grimlock had done everything in his power to have anything but.

The way into the wilderzones had long been considered one of the most hazardous

and potentially life-threatening journeys never to have been undertaken. Legend

had it that the star-fields beyond the outer fringe were stalked by creatures big

enough to bear entire civilizations on their backs, hosts of soul-sucking Parafiends

and vast armies that poured like molten metal from the heart of super- dense stars.

So much for legend.

And so, 78 days in and not a Parafiend to be had, Grimlock had reached the

momentous conclusion that they needed another Unicron. Not necessarily THE

Unicron, but something close, something big and epic, something that called for

blood and thunder, do or die. Anything but this!

It had been several hundred years since the chaos- bringer Unicron had been

destroyed, and to be fair there had been a few epic threats in-between. But nothing

really on the same scale. Jhiaxus, the Swarm. Mogahn the Mass, Praetocian, the

Ebon Knights... and, most recently, Pinea Omicron. But then it really was because

of Pinea Omicron and the fifty or so years that had preceded it, that they were here

now, scraping around the galaxy for energon. It had, decided Grimlock, conceding

Magnus’s contention long after the fact, been a sustained and costly conflict.

Under Galvatron II, the Decepticons had built and mobilized a huge fleet of War

worlds; planet-sized battleships with a power core fed by unstable, fissioned

energon. They were lumbering and hugely energy- inefficient, but their destructive

power was awesome to behold.

In order to safeguard Cybertron, the Autobots actively relocated their entire world,

using technology appropriated from former Decepticon commander, Jhiaxus to

clone other ‘Cybertrons’ from barren, uninhabited worlds. These decoys served

both to mislead and divide the enemy, but eventually a critical security blunder led

the Decepticon fleet tantalizingly close to the location of the real Cybertron. A

massed Autobot armada engaged the Decepticons at the spiral arc known as Pinea

Omicron in an attempt to end the conflict once and for all. Huge losses were

sustained by both sides, and in a climactic and crucial confrontation, Autobot

leader Optimus Prime finally ended the reign of Galvatron II. But only at huge

personal cost. Wounded, drained, Prime too fell. Fell hard.

Grimlock had been among the first to reach Prime’s slumped form. Not dead, but

close to it. He’d engaged a stasis field around Prime’s body, maintaining the

flickering energy of his Spark within it. To date, there’d been no improvement.

Prime was still functionless, a living war monument.

Which Grimlock could relate to. Another day of this, and his systems would be

shutting down also, his brain freefalling into oblivion. Completing a cursory scan

of ships’ systems in the auxiliary flight deck, Grimlock prepared to take his higher

functions off-line. He was three alpha stages into another extended personal hiatus

when the first wave of missiles hit and the bulkhead nearest to Grimlock blew out

into space.

****

It barely moved, but it saw everything, knew everything. It rarely spoke, but still

communicated on multiple levels, issuing orders simultaneously to countless]

warriors, agents and operatives on a variety of active duties across the known

galaxy and beyond. The intrusion on the far northern perimeter of Hub space had,

inevitably, been noted and a cadre of free-phasing multiforms dispatched to deal

with it.

The craft, it knew, was an Autobot Hyperwave, and it experienced a rare moment

of disquiet. The alignment was so close now. It had waited all its long, long life

for just this moment, and nothing -no detail, no matter how small or insignificant -

could be allowed to distract it.

Having hidden its existence for countless millennia, the Liege Maximo was

resolved not to be discovered now.

Aboard the Hyperwave, the sudden rude awakening had precipitated a mad

scramble for previously neglected stations around the ship.

Grimlock had managed at least to prevent himself being sucked out into space,

engaging magno-clamps on the soles of his feet. The only problem was that once

engaged it was all but impossible to move about with any kind of speed or

urgency. Outside, the unknown assault ships were banking, ready for another

Simon Furman - Alignment.pdf

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