Klixon: What War is Like

(Translated from Cybertronian for your convenience.)

Everything was normal. That was what their last report had been, that was what their next report would be. That was all their reports summed up in three little words. Klixon wasn’t a large base, but it wasn’t a small base. Located in the same state as Polyhex, it was often overlooked, but never out of reach. Home to only eighty-some Autobots, the base was used as a training facility for young soldiers and a study lab for hopeful scientists.

Although the civil war was lasting longer than anyone expected, no one in the base was worried. Why would they be? Most of the fighting was taking place half-way across the planet. The only time there had been moments of sorrow was when friends were transferred to other bases, their expertises needed elsewhere; the most recently departed being an esteemed Autobot scientist named Wheeljack. He hadn’t been the most experienced or the strongest of the group, but he had always been the most optimistic, and he was definitely one of the smartest. Even the Chief Engineer, an old Autobot well known for his scientific accomplishments in the academic society, had learned a thing or two from him and was sorry to see him go. Everyone was.

On the bright side, there would be significant decrease in lab explosions.

Sideswipe leaned against the wall as he stood on the deck looking over the vast expanse of empty Cybertronian countryside. He let out a heavy sigh, his broad shoulders heaving up and down as he thought about his situation. Young, inexperienced Sideswipe and his brother had been stationed in Klixon as guards in case of Decepticon attack. Yeah, right. Like the big, bad ‘Cons would care about a little research post. He would have greatly preferred to be in the thick of the war, spending a little one-on-one time with the renegade Transformers. He was young, he was eager, and he wanted to prove himself as a fighter, not a geek-guard.

The Autobot guard wasn’t alone on the deck. Leaning against the railing, staring at the ground below was his twin brother. Yes, twin. That was the only term one could use to describe the two. Physically identical in almost every way and with identical energy signatures, only a few subtle differences could tell the two apart. Sunstreaker had a sleeker form, with thin fingers and a faintly elegant look to him. Sideswipe was slightly larger and rugged, and he was less of a jerk. Not by much, mind you, but enough to have a few more friends in the base than his brother.

“We’ll never get out of this place,” Sunstreaker said suddenly, shaking his head. His toecap tapped the floor lightly as he continued to stare at the ground. “What a waste.”

“Would you shut up already?” Sideswipe groaned, rubbing his forehead. Sunstreaker had been unusually gloomy this past little while and he seemed intent on bringing everyone else down with him. He guessed his twin’s mood was caused by the lack of activity. Without Wheeljack blowing something up every other day, there had been nothing to do but watch security footage and stare at empty countryside. What he wouldn’t give for some little mishap, some sort of accident…

The base shook. Well, more like shivered, but nevertheless it got the two twins up. Before they even had a chance to think, the two were running down the hall, subconsciously competing with each other to reach the lab first. They saw the smoke before they saw the mess, shredded pieces of lab equipment splayed out on the floor. The two skidded to a stop, staring at the disaster with a mix of excitement and wonder. Who was playing the roll of mad scientist now? And in the same lab… What a coincidence.

A medic by the name of Cruise pushed past the larger twins, ignoring their shouts as he disappeared through the broken door. The two mechs glanced at each before leaning in, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. “Is everyone accounted for?” Cruise asked, a bright light filtering through the settling smoke and dust. A few scattered replies answered, and the two bystanders could see the medic’s frame relax. His figure started to shrink as he stepped deeper into the room until it vanished completely. It was soon replaced by another.

Short and wiry, Smudge was the youngest and smallest mech in the base. A very nervous and inexperienced scientist, he was often on the receiving end of lectures and disciplines from more experienced scientists. Ignoring the twins as he stepped out, he clung to his shoulder tightly as he walked down the hall, taking uneven steps as he slowly made his way through the corridors, repeating the words “I’m sorry” over and over again as he walked down the hall. Right behind him was Spade, the Chief Engineer of the base, and he did not look pleased.

“You try a stunt like that again, Smudge, and I’ll make sure they never find a single screw of your skinny, little frame!” the old mech threatened as he hurried after the young scientist. The twins held back a snicker, always enjoying Spade’s less-than-positive attitude. As long as they weren’t the victims of it, of course. Luckily, they were just the guards, not the scientists he was in charge of. No, they had other problems to worry about.

Another mech came out right after the Chief Engineer, supported on each side by Cruise and a femmebot by the name of Riot. She was almost like a mini-Wheeljack, always upbeat and very talkative. It may have had something to do with the scientist being her mentor even before the war began. She was a promising student, intuitive and a fast learner, but she did a lot of stupid stuff, acting and speaking without thinking. Sideswipe would have thought she was the cause of the explosion if it hadn’t been for Spade’s angry outbursts.

Forge, a mech who used to be a professor at one of the universities, was perhaps the only real casualty of the explosion. His right leg dragged behind him as the other two Autobots carried him down the hall, holding back groans every time someone adjusted their grip. “Next time,” he muttered, “I connect the wires.”

“Come on. Smudge was just nervous, that’s all,” Riot said quickly, holding back a laugh. “Hanging out with experienced scientists like us. He’s got a lot to prove.”

“You’re one to talk, Riot,” Forge retorted, a smile playing on his face despite the pain. “You can’t even build an audio transceiver without someone to watch your back.” A smile spread on his face as the femmebot looked away, the two small lights on her shoulders glowing dimly as she struggled to come up with a comeback.

The conversation continued as the trio walked down the hall, but neither of the two guards could care less. Exchanging glances with each other, the brothers turned around to return to the outside deck when a problem arrived. It arrived quickly, and it arrived in the form of the Chief of Security ‘bot himself, Red Alert.

The security officer had magically appeared at the end of the hall not even a second after the scientists had left. When he caught up with the brothers, he grabbed them each by the shoulder and spun them around, forcing the two to come face-to-face with their boss. For some reason, he didn’t look too happy. “What were you two doing?” he asked gravely, glaring at the two mechs. “Why weren’t you with the scientists?”

Sideswipe shrugged off the security officer’s glare casually. “It’s not like we could have stopped it. Besides, the science-geeks don’t like us getting in the way,” he replied. Sunstreaker nodded in agreement, but Red Alert wasn’t buying into their excuse.

“You two were slacking off again,” he stated more than asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued in a sharp tone, “How do you two ever expect to get a promotion if you shirk off you duties? Do you think this is all for fun?”

Sunstreaker frowned as the security officer started one of his responsibility speeches. He took his role as leader very seriously; this was his first time as the Chief of Security, making this a crucial point in his career. He wouldn’t dare let these two better-than-you younglings screw it up for him. Unfortunately for him, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were two walking screw ups.

“Understand?” he finished. The twins nodded solemnly, wishing the mech would just leave them alone already. Eyeing each of them carefully, Red Alert nodded back. Spinning around, he started to walk down the hall, but not without adding one last order before he returned to his office. “Great. You two, clean this mess up. I’m sure you could at least do that properly.”

Fist tightening at his side, Sunstreaker took a step forward, but was stopped by his brother’s arm. Looking up at his brother, Sunstreaker couldn’t help but notice the determined stare on his face. He hesitated for a moment. “Well, now what?”

“We clean up,” Sideswipe replied, motioning at the pile of scrap at their feet. “We have our orders. Might as well follow them.”

His twin was surprised, optics darting from his brother to the rubble before going back to his brother. He couldn’t imagine what was going through Sideswipe’s cerebral processor at the moment, but even if he could he probably wouldn’t understand it. Sideswipe had the tendency to switch from brazen to obedient, rebel to dutiful solider. “Sometimes…” Sunstreaker said quickly, stepping around his brother and over what little was left of a computer screen. “Sometimes… Sometimes I think Red Alert has a piston rod shoved up his exhaust port.” Ignoring his brother’s laughter, he knelt down and picked up a large chunk of metal. Manual labour. How exciting.

---

Cruise double-checked the diagnostic before smiling to himself. Tapping Forge’s knee, he hummed quietly. “Good as new, Forge,” he informed the mech. Forge started to sit up, but a quick, light shove kept him down. “Oh no, you don’t. I want you to spend at least a day in the medical bay before I let you back out. Make sure your circuits stay connected properly and all.”

“You know, Cruise, I think you take your job too seriously,” the university professor joked, but he obliged all the same. Stretching his arms behind him, he stared at the blank ceiling of the medical bay, wondering what the others were doing. Probably trying to salvage what was left of the new spy satellite they were working on. So much for that breakthrough. “How’s the rest of the base?”

“Completely unaffected. The accident was isolated, so don’t worry too much. You just won’t be able to use that lab of yours until it’s cleaned up.” He paused, filling the gap with a soft chuckle. “Or your leg for a while. Explosion nearly shredded your servo circuits. Nothing I couldn’t handle, of course.” He puffed his chest out slightly, making Forge laugh out loud. Cruise and Forge had been good friends before the war and they liked to brag to each other, even if they acted a little silly sometimes. Some of the younger ‘bots thought it was weird, but others loved their attitude towards life. You only get one chance, might as well have fun. Even if there was a war going on.

“Forge?” said a quiet voice from the doorway. The pair of mechs looked up to see Riot and Smudge leaning in the doorway, the latter staring at the two with wide optics. “You alright?” It was Smudge who was talking, his voice still shaky from the shock of the explosion, though his shoulder was completely fine now.

Forge pretended to be offended by the question. “I’m fine, obviously. Takes more than a lab explosion to take me out.” He grinned, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger. The younger scientists were always nervous after an accident, especially Smudge, but Riot seemed calm. Unusually calm.

Hesitantly, the femmebot started to say something, only to be interrupted by a roar from Spade. “What’re you two slackers doing? Get back to the lab!” he shouted. Optics widening, Riot quickly vanished from the doorway, leaving a stuttering Smudge to follow her or risk another haranguing from the older mech. Forge and Cruise exchanged glances, each knowing exactly what the other was thinking without saying a word. Younglings will be younglings. They had a long life ahead of them, one to look forward to once this war was over.

Because they knew the war couldn’t last that long.

---

That was a normal day for that particular lab group. Out of twelve different teams, they were number six – Group Six. Riot and Smudge were the two youngest students, with Forge being the slightly-superior-but-still-a-student and Spade as their temporary teacher. Originally, it had been Wheeljack, but his expertises were needed elsewhere, closer to the battlefield. They received news shortly after that that a replacement was being sent over, another professional scientist who was willing to share his experience. That was the reputation Klixon had developed: the perfect learning environment for any hopeful Autobot scientist. Everyone knew each other, everyone had someone to support them, someone to talk to, everyone was friendly (save one or two mechs.) The close-knit feeling one got here was that of family and friends, of teachers and students. It was a warm fuzzy feeling, one that soldiers and guards like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could do without. What they would have done for a little action other than exploding satellites. A little something to stir the monotony.

But what they weren’t prepared for was exactly how much ‘action’ the war was about to throw at them. It started off with a simple call from Red Alert for the two to report to his office, despite currently being off duty. Grudgingly, the two had treaded over to the office, taking their sweet time until he threatened to put them on maintenance duty for a month if they didn’t hurry up. With that incentive, they were across the base and in his office without a second though. Once inside, they saw Red Alert looking more rattled than he had ever been before. Pointing at one of the radar screens, he mentioned a small anomaly that had shown up only moments before, and then vanished right after. He showed them the radar history to prove his point.

“It’s a malfunction,” Sideswipe said plainly, tapping the monitor with a metallic finger as he brother leaned over the chair. “It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t there for very long. Besides, nothing ever comes here anyways. Get one of the scientists to fix it.”

“I just did a tune up,” Red Alert explained with a shake of his head. “There’s no way that the scanner’s malfunctioning.”

“False reading, then. Anyways, aren’t you the Chief of Security? You’re supposed to take care of this stuff, not two geek-guards like us,” Sunstreaker retorted, pointing at himself and Sideswipe. Sideswipe huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Red Alert sighed, typing a command to bring the screen back to real time. “I know, I know. It’s just… This stuff gets me all nervous and I can’t think straight,” he admitted, frowning. Then, with a pause, he looked up at the twins, replacing his frown with a scowl. “Why am I even bothering? You two don’t care.” The twins nodded in agreement, and Red Alert’s scowl deepened. “Gee, thanks, guys. Fine, go back to doing nothing. I’m just going to—”

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The alarm was loud. Red Alert practically fell out of the chair before pulling himself up. Sunstreaker pushed past his brother to glance at the scanner monitors to see if he could spot what had suddenly sounded the proximity alarm. When he saw the number of blips, he blinked and stared. “Those weren’t there a nanosec ago,” he muttered, pointing at the scattered white blips as they approached the base. Red Alert straightened up to look at the screen, grimacing when he saw the readings.

“Oh, this is very, very bad,” he said slowly. He stretched his arm up and pressed several buttons on a keyboard. Instantly, the base was plunged into red lighting as the alarms sounded. Then, before the twins even knew he had stood up, Red Alert dashed into the hall, a rifled cradled in his arms.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were right behind him, their own weaponry already out. Sideswipe rubbed his cannon carefully before looking at Red Alert, already knowing the answer to his question before he even asked. “What’s going on?”

“Time to prove our worth, boys,” Red Alert replied, taking a quick turn and darting down the hallway that lead to the entrance. There was already a small group of some of the other soldiers heading there themselves, waiting for their commander’s orders. “Decepticons are knocking on our doorstep.”

Sure enough, the fight had already begun. The walls hadn’t been reached yet, but the guards were already adding fortifications the doors while a few sharpshooters headed for the roof. Leaping right into the centre of the chaos, Red Alert took command with an air of confidence, bringing order to the chaos in hopes of building a decent defence before the first Decepticon reached the walls.

“How much time do you think we have?” Sideswipe overheard a conversation going on as two guards hauled a heavy load of equipment. He couldn’t tell what it was they were carrying, but he assumed it was weapons. Lots of weapons.

Groaning with the effort, his partner replied, “Hopefully enough to set up a blockade. Where did these fraggin’ Decepticons come from anyways? Ain’t been nothing near us for months.”

“They could have crawled out of the Pit for all I care,” Sideswipe muttered as the two passed him, raising his canon arm up in a ready-to-fire position. The two turned to look at the soldier, but his stare was fixed on the entrance. “‘Cause when they get here, their going to wish that’s where they were.”  

---

Spade cursed quietly to himself as he ran through the halls, cursing the alarms, cursing the lights, cursing the Decepticons that had attacked the base. It had come so suddenly, they had come so suddenly. He needed to get down to the labs – his labs – and make sure everyone was alright. He had only left for a short walk, a quick break from his duties as the younglings squabbled over who was in charge of which unit. Why did it have to be today?

When he heard the alarms, he figured he still had some time before the Decepticons got there. That’s what they were for after all – an early warning. But after he heard the shots that were fired, he moved faster than even the spryest Autobot on base. The Decepticons were at the base, maybe even in the base.

He hoped to Primus they weren’t in the base.

Turning at a T-section, he suddenly stopped, his jaw gaping open. He suddenly lost all control of his body, as if paralyzed by the sight that lay before him. It was enough to send even such a level-headed scientist like himself into a state of utter horror. He felt his circuits bunch up, forcing the Chief Engineer to lean against the wall to stay standing. The bodies of four soldiers were strewn across the floor, none of them in one piece. Dark fluids stained the floor and walls, cast off patterns in all directions.

They were in the base, and they had already slaughtered four young Autobots.

Hearing a weak moan, Spade slowly regained control of his body. His optics darted around the corridor, trying to ignore the gruesome scene in an attempt to spot the source of the moan – the survivor. There, in the corner and at the edge of the massacre, was a wiry frame, one arm wrapped firmly around his chest while the other lay useless on the ground across the hall from him. Spade recognized the young scientist right away: Smudge.

Rushing to the young scientist’s side, he titled his head slightly. His optics were still lit, though they were very dim and flickering. Smudge didn’t seem to realize who he was staring at, or what he was staring at, but despite the gaping hole in his chest plate and missing arm he still had something to say. “I-I’m s-s-sorry…” he managed to stutter out through grunts of pain, making a pathetic attempt to smile.

“No, no, no, no, Smudge. Don’t apologize. Don’t apologize, Smudge,” Spade repeated, shaking the youngling gently as he tried to keep him awake. All his training, all his experience vanished and all he could do was keep repeating the mech’s name over and over again until his optics finally flickered out. And even then he kept repeating his name, hoping that by some miracle he would wake up, that he’d apologize again and again and again. It had always been like that. Smudge would mix up one tool for another or accidentally connect the wrong wires, then the young ‘bot would start to apologize and keep apologizing until Spade got tired of hearing him. Now, all he wanted was to hear the young mech’s apologies again.

But the scientist didn’t get up. He didn’t apologize anymore. Slowly, the old mech stood up, letting Smudge’s head lean gently against the wall. Fists clenched at his sides, he gritted his teeth as he tried to avoid looking directly into the young Autobot’s face. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. Not to them.

The sickly sweet voice behind was the last thing he heard. “Aw, isn’t this touching.”

---

Where did they all come from? Undetected, unnoticed? Thoughts raced through Forge’s mind as he lead the escape group through the twisting halls. It hadn’t taken very long to gather all the scientists and medics, or at least the ones that were still alive, but the Decepticons had already dealt a devastating blow. While the brunt of the siege was in the front, a few had managed to blast a hole through one of the back walls and sneak in. They managed to completely wipe out Group Two before they were noticed, and even then their massacre didn’t end until a mini-faction of guards took the four of them out.

That’s right. Four Decepticons.

With Cruise right beside him, the two adult mechs dashed down the hall, practically dragging one of the younger scientists behind them as they and a small group of other none-soldier Autobots tried to get to through the escape route. Behind them, they could faintly hear the sounds of the battle taking place in the corridors, the shots and screams echoing down the halls. They all tried to shut it out, to block the noises from their audio sensors, but they couldn’t.

“This is it, isn’t it?” the young scientist being dragged along said. He had a smile on his face, though it definitely wasn’t an amused smile. “This is how it all ends. Massacred, in our home. This…this…” He suddenly broke down into laughter. Cruise and Forge exchanged nervous glances as they realized they had just lost another comrade.

Their attention was quickly brought behind them as a wall exploded right in the centre of the group. Even before the smoke cleared up, bright blasts of plasma sprung forward, barely missing the Autobots. Forge and Cruise quickly took command, ordering the scientists to back off. Startled, afraid and confused, the scientists obeyed as they back peddled their way down the hall. They all knew that those plasma shots could have only come from one source and one source only: Decepticons.

“Get down!” one of the soldiers shouted as he dashed forward. Something flew through the air, making a whistling noise before connecting with the Decepticons chest. Flames burst from the point of contact and the Decepticon howled, claw-like fingers grasping at the wound. Four shots from the soldier’s gun connected with the weak spot, making sure he finished the job before dashing through the new doorway.

Catching a quick glimpse through the hole, Forge was able to observe another Decepticon being taken down by a pair of soldiers – the twins, to be precise. Out of all the other young guards and soldiers there, the two seemed to be better suited for battle than anyone else. Sideswipe dove head first into hand-to-hand combat, wrestling with each Decepticon personally while Sunstreaker covered his back with his electron pulse blaster. For a moment, he could almost see the same brutality the Decepticons had for battle in the Autobot twins, but his view was quickly whipped away.

“Got to keep moving, Forge,” Cruise said, pulling his friend by the arm. Forge recovered, keeping up with the medic as they continued down the hall.

However, something made him stop. Spinning around, he looked over the group again. What had once been a gathering off eleven robots had been reduced to nine. He grimaced, planting his foot in the ground as he pivoted around, holding his arm out to the side as three blades extended on his forearms. Ushering the other medics and scientists to continue on without him, Cruise pulled back to his friend’s side.

“What’re you doing?” he hissed, grabbing his arm again. This time, though, Forge shook him off as he started down the hall. Groaning, Cruise followed him. “You’ll get us both killed.”

“Better than leaving Riot and Stencil to die,” he snapped. Cruise hesitated for a moment, falling a step behind the scientist. He hadn’t noticed the disappearance of the two femmebots, meaning he was starting to lose his focus. He thought he’d be able to handle the chaos, the confusion of the battlefield. Guess not.

The pair reached the spot where the Decepticon had appeared, spotting the gaping hole and the empty room through it. The battle must have moved elsewhere by now; that was the first lucky break these two Autobots had gotten ever since the attack started. Blades retracting, Forge hurried over to the second hole in the wall across from the first, almost kicking himself for not noticing it before. Then again, why should he? All he cared about at the time was getting everyone out alive and well. So much for that.

Cruise took a quick glance around what had once been the battle room, but all he could see were the corpses of Decepticon drones and good Autobots. He grimaced, quickly turning away before the scene became too much. There was no one alive in that room, but he couldn’t detect any energy signatures from the other room, either.

“Cruise!” Forge shouted. Before his friend had a chance to shout his name again, the medic was leaning over the small frame of the femmebot, running a quick diagnostic. Looking up, the medic shook his head solemnly before crossing the femmebot’s arms over her chest. At least he knew it had been a quick, a single shot in the chest. Forge bowed his head forward. “Aw, Stencil…” he whispered mournfully. She had been a good medic and a great Autobot; she had a bright future ahead of her, and now the Decepticons had taken it away. They had taken everything away.

Looking around the room, the medic couldn’t spot any sign of Riot. He frowned, but a glimmer of hope in his spark made him realize that she might have gotten out of there. Standing up straight, he gently grabbed Forge’s arm again. “Forge, we’ve got to get back to the rest of the group. We can’t leave them alone like this.”

With a final, quick scan around the room, Forge nodded. His first steps out were slow, but once the two reached the hallway they had broken into a run. Forge remained completely silent after that, avoiding optic contact with everyone but Cruise. And when the two did exchange glances, Cruise could see a deep, sorrowful light behind the purple optics.

---

Sideswipe grinned devilishly as he swung the Decepticon around, using his weight against him as he pinned him on the ground, a cannon pushed against his chest. However, even as the glow from the spark chamber was extinguished, Sideswipe felt nothing. No rush, no excitement; the Decepticon drones weren’t much of a challenge. He wondered how they could be losing to a bunch of cheap scrap like them.

His twin brother seemed to share the same sentiments, easily fending off any Decepticon that came within a clear shot for his electron pulse blaster, and even picking off a few in the thick of the battle. He almost thought he heard Sunstreaker sigh in boredom, but the two kept at it anyways. After all, it would really suck if someone were to die because they got bored.

Off to the side, Sunstreaker noticed a Decepticon getting blasted through the wall. He paused for a moment to watch as one of the guards leapt right in after him, nailing the Decepticon with a grenade before finishing him off with his canon. Whipping around, the twin fired at a Decepticon that had gotten to close for comfort while Sideswipe wrestled one-on-one with a particularly large Decepticon drone.

A small pack of scientists ran past the opening in the wall, but Sideswipe didn’t pay much attention to them. Spinning around, he broke free from the Decepticon’s grip and delivered a devastating uppercut to his jaw. The cannon on top of his arm swivelled around before disappearing as he dashed forward, grabbing the Decepticon’s neck with one hand and slamming him against the wall, pounding his face in with his other fist. The Decepticon went limp and he tossed him aside, grimacing in disgust as he wiped some black fluid off his fingers.

There was a shriek, one that came from the other side of the hall. Leaning over, Sideswipe saw two Decepticons standing in the room in front of him. One of them had a canon aimed at something out of his view while the other walked off to the side. Before he had a chance to react, the first Decepticon fired.

Without thinking, Sideswipe sprung forward, clenched fist connecting with the side of the Decepticon executioner’s head before he even realized what was happening. He had no idea why he had suddenly leapt like that, or why he suddenly felt compelled to wipe the floor with these two useless scraps of metal. But there was something, something inside him, that didn’t like the idea of attacking defenceless geeks—err, scientists. Something inside him burned with rage as he grabbed the dazed Decepticon by the shoulders and swung him around, tossing him at his partner. The two Decepticons crashed on the ground in a sound of twisting metal, one that even made the young guard wince. That didn’t sound pleasant.

Still with the same anger that had driven his initial attack, his canon reappeared. He barely even took a moment to aim before unleashing a barrage of shots. One of the Decepticons twitched, threatened to move, before collapsing on the ground beside his partner. Neither of them got up.

Turning around, Sideswipe finally got a look at who he had saved. It was the femmebot from Group Six, the one who used to always hang out with Wheeljack. He considered walking out right then, but something else caught his attention. The femmebot was leaning against a control panel, her entire frame covered with dents and cuts, and a pole about half the length of Sideswipe’s arm sticking out of her side.

Joining his brother’s side, Sunstreaker took a quick glance at the dead Decepticons before looking at the femmebot. His optics instantly trailed over to the small pistol lightly grasped in her hand. He frowned. “Why didn’t you shoot him?” he asked, pointing at the weapon.

A faint grin spread on Riot’s face as she looked down at the pistol as well. She considered shrugging, but every twitch she made hurt. “I…don’t shoot…things,” she said slowly between gasps of pain. She grimaced once the words finally left her finally. Letting the pistol slip from her grip, she collapsed to the ground, her back leaning against the control panel. “I never shoot things.”

Grunting in disbelief, Sunstreaker shook his head as he turned around, staring at the view of the room he had just been in. They had managed to wipe the Decepticons out, leaving a heavy dent in their numbers. However, the others had mysteriously vanished again, the only evidence of their escape being the destroyed walls and the soldiers who had managed to live through the attack. “Could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble,” the twin murmured before stepping out.

Sideswipe watched his twin’s exit for a moment before turning to look at Riot again. Curled up tightly in a ball, the femmebot’s optics had dimmed, though her energy signature was still going strong. For such a little Autobot, she was holding up quite well. Grinning, the guard leaned over, holding the little femmebot in his arms as he was careful not to move her too much. He was no medic, but he knew a wound like hers could cause some serious damage if moved too much. But leaving her in the lab wouldn’t do much help either.

“Sideswipe!” Sunstreaker called. Stepping back, he saw his twin motioning for him to hurry up. He paused for a moment as he stared at the femmebot in his arms, but showed no sign of what he was thinking. “Well, you coming or what?”

---

Sideswipe stood amidst a handful of soldiers, the ones that hadn’t been critically wounded, as he assessed the damage. Their base, or what was left of it, was now Decepticon free. Half of the front wall was missing, and behind that most of the rooms now had an extra door or two. Their population had suddenly gone from eighty-something to just under thirty, with at least half of the survivors critically wounded. Needless to say, this attack had been a big slap in the face for many of them, a huge dosage of ‘reality’ delivered without remorse. This was what war was like.

A small group was crowded around Red Alert as one of the medics was reconnecting some wiring in his chest. Sunstreaker didn’t remember Red Alert getting shot; in fact, he didn’t even remember Red Alert slowing down at all during the fight. He would certainly have a new respect for the Chief of Security now, assuming he would still be his boss after this. It didn’t take a genius to find out that Klixon would most likely get closed down, at least for a while.

Everyone was mourning the lost of a good friend today, friends they had known for a long time or ones they had only just met. Forge was one of them. Group Six had once consisted of four robots. Now, there were only two. Group Two and Group Four had been entirely wiped out, all of them good scientists, young Autobots, ones that had barely been alive long enough to remember Cybertron during it’s more peaceful years, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. He could see Cruise and a number of other medics completing medical procedures on the injured, though they were extremely short handed. Although the medical bay was practically on the opposite side of where the attack had been, helpful medics like Stencil had been among the fatalities.

Not a single robot had been unaffected.

Rubbing his arm, Forge turned away from the rest of the scene to look at Riot. Her face was tight in pain as she struggled even in stasis with the damage. Although it was hard to see, the pole had gone through some vital circuitry and components; even the slightest movement could be fatal. But, once one of the medics had a look at her, she’d never even remember the pain. But she’d remember the trauma. They all would.

Softly, he ran his fingers down the side of her helm. Even though she got on everyone’s nerves sometimes, she was a good Autobot with a pure spark. He was glad she hadn’t been among the dead; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle another death. Spade, Smudge, all his friends except for Cruise and Riot. Wheeljack had been lucky to get that transfer when he did.

“How’s she doing?” Startled, Forge spun around, looking up at the rugged ‘bot. Sideswipe looked back down at him, his expression not giving away what he was feeling. “Will she be alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” Forge said slowly, turning away. He expected the twin to leave, but instead he knelt down beside him, blue optics transfixed on the femmebot’s face. Frowning, the scientist tried to figure out what the guard had to do with the femmebot scientist. However, neither of them said anything for a long time, each secluding themselves to their own thoughts. Until…

“I’ve never seen anyone like this before,” Sideswipe said suddenly, still staring at Riot’s face. She groaned, her arms and legs moving as she tried to curl up again, but Forge stopped her. Moving was the worst thing she could do right now. Catching on, Sideswipe leaned forward to help keep the femmebot motionless. “This seems almost too unreal.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Forge replied. To be honest, he never expected Sideswipe to be much of conversationalist. He expected him to be just like his ‘brother,’ Sunstreaker, an arrogant, self-centered, anti-social jerk. Even though he knew thoughts like that were immature, there was always someone in your life who was like that. “What I wouldn’t give for this war to be over.”

Sideswipe remained silent after that, moving his hands back to his side as Riot stopped trying to move. Her body relaxed, and her arms fell to her sides again, but her face still had the same pained grimace from earlier. Whatever she was feeling right now, it definitely wasn’t comfortable.

So, this was what war was like. What war was really like. It wasn’t just fighting, it wasn’t just tactical planning. It was about pain. It was about loss. It was about a struggle to stay alive, to gain power, to reach the top. Without his knowing, his fist clenched up and his entire body stiffened. War wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t forget the rush he got when he took down the first Decepticon. And the same rush that followed after each of his victories. Feelings contradicted thoughts in his head, and in the end he just stood up and walked away. Forge didn’t even give the guard a second glance as he went to sit down near one of the walls, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. He paid no attention to the medics as they went about their patch jobs. He ignored Sunstreaker when his brother came to talk to him, probably earning himself an insult or two. He just sat there, staring at the ceiling, trying to sort out his thoughts, trying to rearrange his feelings.

So this, he thought, finally organizing his emotions, is what war is like.