raisedbymoogles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
raisedbymoogles) wrote2016-01-18 02:23 pm
raisedbymoogles) wrote2016-01-18 02:23 pm
Entry tags:
A little more OC ficness.
Two scenes from Lightcaster’s early life.
*
Lightcaster lay on her back on the repair berth - an intolerable position for a true flier, she’d been made to understand, but serviceable for one such as her - and tried to pretend she was in stasis. She’d never fool the medic when he came back, but if one of the base commanders wandered by, she might escape punishment for the unrelenting disaster that had been their mission. Or at least delay it for a while.
Only two of them had made it back: herself, and her squad leader. The Autobots had accounted for the rest.
Her squad leader’s voice reached her, a low and steady murmur - she strained to hear what ei said. “…overwhelmed our forces,” the words resolved themselves, “with numbers in excess of what was estimated in our briefing-“
“Are you blaming bad intelligence for this debacle, then?” Lightcaster stiffened all over, every bolt singing with strain. Not even a blow to the helm could make her fail to recognize, or respond to, the voice of Commander Starscream. “I could bring your charges before the command element. I’m sure Soundwave would be glad to defend his performance.”
Her squad leader was silent for a moment. “…no,” he answered wisely. “I take full responsibility for our failure today.”
“Ah. I thought you might.”
There was a shriek of superheated plasma and the stench of burning metal and a cry-
-and Lightcaster heard her squad leader’s body clatter to the decking, and trembled.
Silence, then light treadfalls. Lightcaster kept her optics off as Starscream walked by the medbay door. “I hope you’re prepared to succeed where your former squad leader failed,” he said, and Lightcaster was frozen in terrified indecision: did he know she was awake? Should she stand, salute him -
…he was walking away, without another word, and Lightcaster trembled anew with mingled relief and apprehension for her future.
***
This was not a failure. This was not a failure, this was a setback, and as soon as Lightcaster could get out of here she would find a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. In the meantime she just had to be patient, calm, and watchful. She would not panic.
She’d never had the opportunity to observe Autobots so closely before. Their base was a sad and sorry sort of affair, as demonstrated by the hastily-erected prison cell situated right outside the command center where Lightcaster could observe everyone who came and went and even eavesdrop if someone left the door open. The walls appeared to be made of tinfoil secured by tape and prayer. This is a temporary shelter, she realized. The Autobots don’t intend to stay for long. This was valuable intel. Perhaps valuable enough to preserve her life.
An Autobot hurried by her, and Lightcaster had just enough time to wonder over his massive heavy wheels and what it must feel like to drive on them before he burst into the command center. “Chromia!” he blurted. “I - this-”
“Get ahold of yourself, soldier,” the base commander rapped out. “Report.”
“Yes ma’am.” A wheeze of vents. “At daybreak we stormed the enemy’s supply depot but it was more well-defended than we’d realized. Two combiners - one of them appeared to be new, but it was still - it was a disaster. Wraith and I were the only ones to make it out, and only due to Wraith’s quick thinking.”
Lightcaster tried to panic soundlessly, her vents snapping shut and straining. Was this Autobot crazy? Did he want to die?
“So our intel misled us,” Chromia was musing. “Is that your conclusion, Windcharger?”
Lightcaster couldn’t see either of them from where she was, but she pictured the thick-wheeled Autobot cringing as much as she was. “I… I don’t know,” Windcharger admitted. “I’m too - I can’t even think straight right now. All I can say is I accept full responsibility for this failure, and the deaths of the mechs under my command.”
This is it. Lightcaster covered her audials. Autobot or not, she didn’t want to listen to him die.
“…we will analyze the data once you and Wraith are rested,” Chromia said heavily. “In the meantime, get some fuel into you.”
“…yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”
…what?
“No need to thank me,” Chromia said, sounding amused. “I intend to take your tactical decisions to pieces. And Intel’s as well.”
Windcharger appeared in the door again, a rueful smile on his face. Still alive, Lightcaster wondered. Still alive and smiling, even. “I’d expect nothing less, ma’am.”
“See, you’re learning already. Now off with you.”
Windcharger obeyed the dismissal this time, and as he exited the command center his optics fell on those of their Decepticon prisoner. Lightcaster must have been gaping, for the Autobot gave her a look that wasn’t hatred or nervousness or derision but a kind of wry pity. He shrugged, tilted his head and moved on down the hall, leaving Lightcaster to wonder at the miracle she’d just witnessed.
*
Lightcaster lay on her back on the repair berth - an intolerable position for a true flier, she’d been made to understand, but serviceable for one such as her - and tried to pretend she was in stasis. She’d never fool the medic when he came back, but if one of the base commanders wandered by, she might escape punishment for the unrelenting disaster that had been their mission. Or at least delay it for a while.
Only two of them had made it back: herself, and her squad leader. The Autobots had accounted for the rest.
Her squad leader’s voice reached her, a low and steady murmur - she strained to hear what ei said. “…overwhelmed our forces,” the words resolved themselves, “with numbers in excess of what was estimated in our briefing-“
“Are you blaming bad intelligence for this debacle, then?” Lightcaster stiffened all over, every bolt singing with strain. Not even a blow to the helm could make her fail to recognize, or respond to, the voice of Commander Starscream. “I could bring your charges before the command element. I’m sure Soundwave would be glad to defend his performance.”
Her squad leader was silent for a moment. “…no,” he answered wisely. “I take full responsibility for our failure today.”
“Ah. I thought you might.”
There was a shriek of superheated plasma and the stench of burning metal and a cry-
-and Lightcaster heard her squad leader’s body clatter to the decking, and trembled.
Silence, then light treadfalls. Lightcaster kept her optics off as Starscream walked by the medbay door. “I hope you’re prepared to succeed where your former squad leader failed,” he said, and Lightcaster was frozen in terrified indecision: did he know she was awake? Should she stand, salute him -
…he was walking away, without another word, and Lightcaster trembled anew with mingled relief and apprehension for her future.
***
This was not a failure. This was not a failure, this was a setback, and as soon as Lightcaster could get out of here she would find a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. In the meantime she just had to be patient, calm, and watchful. She would not panic.
She’d never had the opportunity to observe Autobots so closely before. Their base was a sad and sorry sort of affair, as demonstrated by the hastily-erected prison cell situated right outside the command center where Lightcaster could observe everyone who came and went and even eavesdrop if someone left the door open. The walls appeared to be made of tinfoil secured by tape and prayer. This is a temporary shelter, she realized. The Autobots don’t intend to stay for long. This was valuable intel. Perhaps valuable enough to preserve her life.
An Autobot hurried by her, and Lightcaster had just enough time to wonder over his massive heavy wheels and what it must feel like to drive on them before he burst into the command center. “Chromia!” he blurted. “I - this-”
“Get ahold of yourself, soldier,” the base commander rapped out. “Report.”
“Yes ma’am.” A wheeze of vents. “At daybreak we stormed the enemy’s supply depot but it was more well-defended than we’d realized. Two combiners - one of them appeared to be new, but it was still - it was a disaster. Wraith and I were the only ones to make it out, and only due to Wraith’s quick thinking.”
Lightcaster tried to panic soundlessly, her vents snapping shut and straining. Was this Autobot crazy? Did he want to die?
“So our intel misled us,” Chromia was musing. “Is that your conclusion, Windcharger?”
Lightcaster couldn’t see either of them from where she was, but she pictured the thick-wheeled Autobot cringing as much as she was. “I… I don’t know,” Windcharger admitted. “I’m too - I can’t even think straight right now. All I can say is I accept full responsibility for this failure, and the deaths of the mechs under my command.”
This is it. Lightcaster covered her audials. Autobot or not, she didn’t want to listen to him die.
“…we will analyze the data once you and Wraith are rested,” Chromia said heavily. “In the meantime, get some fuel into you.”
“…yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”
…what?
“No need to thank me,” Chromia said, sounding amused. “I intend to take your tactical decisions to pieces. And Intel’s as well.”
Windcharger appeared in the door again, a rueful smile on his face. Still alive, Lightcaster wondered. Still alive and smiling, even. “I’d expect nothing less, ma’am.”
“See, you’re learning already. Now off with you.”
Windcharger obeyed the dismissal this time, and as he exited the command center his optics fell on those of their Decepticon prisoner. Lightcaster must have been gaping, for the Autobot gave her a look that wasn’t hatred or nervousness or derision but a kind of wry pity. He shrugged, tilted his head and moved on down the hall, leaving Lightcaster to wonder at the miracle she’d just witnessed.
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Starscream is a lousy boss. Possibly the only worse one is Megatron.
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