{Part 3}
The Decepticons were already on their way to Destron-Laserwave when the disaster struck. Megatron and Soundwave led the way while flying in robot mode, accompanied by scores of truck-mode transport drones rolling on the ground below in close-order formations. Per their strategy, their warriors were folded up in their cube-shaped disguises, riding in the drone vehicles’ cargo bays and impatiently waiting to inflict some carnage, not knowing their job had already been done for them… just far worse than they had in mind.
“Long-range sensors indicate a sudden energy surge,” Soundwave informed his leader. “Signal readings detect source at 750 mechanometers straight ahead.”
Megatron looked ahead in mid-flight and spotted a faint wavering plume of dark smoke in the distance. The warlord had a sinking feeling, knowing that was where Destron-Laserwave was located. But also didn’t want to come this far, only to turn back if there might be anything of value left to recoup from the wreckage. “Deploy advance reconnaissance,” he ordered.
Soundwave pressed the silver button on his left shoulder, opening his chest panel. “Laserbeak, eject. Operation: surveillance.” A compact red-silver-&-black data cartridge launched from inside Soundwave’s chest, and morphed into Laserbeak’s ovoid scout craft mode. The mech-avian scout zipped ahead of the other Decepticons toward the smoke, and gained altitude to stay out of sight from anyone on the ground. Laserbeak reached the site of destruction, avoiding flying into the rising smoke, and circled over it like a vulture waiting for its next meal to expire. Looking down, he magnified his keen, long-distance optical scanners and focused on the vicinity of the ruined facility, surveying the activity; he spotted small clusters of mechanoids gathered at a safe distance nearby. Normally, Laserbeak would fly back to Soundwave to report his findings, but the urgency of this situation required immediate radio contact with his master.
On either side of the rectangular, translucent yellow optic lens in the middle of Laserbeak’s hooked nosecone, tiny panels slid open for retractable T-shaped antennae to extend from inside his head. Maintaining his circular flight path over the smoking rubble, Laserbeak transmitted his report back to Soundwave, who picked up his signal and relayed the report to Megatron. “Laserbeak reports Destron-Laserwave is destroyed. Intelligence indicates an explosion came from inside the structure. Workers have evacuated and are still in the area. No sign of combat, nor presence of Guardian robots or emergency teams.”
“No Guardians, eh?” Megatron rhetorically repeated. “Perhaps Destron-Laserwave had an industrial accident. In any case, we may still get there before the emergency squads arrive. And there may yet be some salvage left for us to harvest.”
“Hey, boss; what should we do about the phyllorium peanut gallery hanging around there?” Dropkick buzzed Megatron over their internal radio. “Can we blow ’em away?”
“No, Dropkick. I have an idea. I’ll do the talking. You just play along.”
Once the Decepticons reached their destination, Soundwave summoned Laserbeak to return to the safety of his chest compartment; he and Megatron landed in front of the charred remains of Destron-Laserwave, with the drone vehicles screeching to a halt behind them. The once-rising business headquarters now bore a vague resemblance to a crude volcano with its top rim curled inside out, the continuous flow of thick smoke erupting from the inside. Fused construction materials and smashed workshop equipment were scattered among the crumbled ruins. The extent of the damage implied that this was no industrial accident. Megatron would have admired the destructive talents of whoever was responsible for this… but not their timing.
Megatron’s timing, however, was impeccable, and he had to capitalize on this moment as he noticed the small crowds cautiously approaching him. It was apparent that they had only vaguely heard about these fabled “flying robots”, but never seen them before. They also didn’t realize that these robots were the customers who had come to claim their order of laser vulcans... nor did they clue in that they may be responsible for the reported attacks in recent cycles. Judging by the reactions from these poor workers who’ve just seen their payroll detonated, the ruse Megatron was about to play would be that much easier to pull off.
The joys of bureaucracy, he thought to himself.
Have your grunts believe their dirty work is their only concern. They don’t need to know everything on the penthouse level. Amateur, but admirable.
But if the Decepticons were to perform their work without interference, Megatron had to play his cards now. He strode toward the awestruck crowd, holding up his hand. “May I have your attention, please,” he announced. “This is a Class Omega emergency, hazard level Extreme. Our crews have arrived to contain this site. However, we request that all of you leave the area immediately; both for your personal safety, and for the crew to efficiently complete our work.” He then turned toward his drone army and shouted, “Secure the perimeter!”
One transport truck rolled ahead of the drone vehicles’ formation and stopped beside Megatron. The cargo transformed into Blacklight’s robot shape, while the truck shape-shifted likewise into Dropkick. The disguised cargo units in the other transport drone trucks also unfolded into their robot modes identical to Blacklight; posing as a security force, Blacklight directed the warriors to form a perimeter around the wrecked building and order the civilians to return home. The transport drones also transformed to their robot modes resembling Dropkick, and made their way toward the site inside the boundary set by the warriors.
Megatron watched the employees leaving the area while Soundwave supervised Blacklight and Dropkick directing traffic with their respective departments.
As long as everyone is cleared far from this area, Megatron thought,
the work should go well… at least as well as can be hoped for in this unexpected turn of events, barring interruptions.
“Excuse me,” squeaked a feminine voice behind the Decepticon leader.
Megatron turned around to find a shy-looking Filesave gazing up at him. “Can I help you?”
“Um, well,” she stammered, not really knowing what to say to this newcomer. “You’re… you’re one of those flying robots, aren’t you?”
“That’s correct,” Megatron replied, inwardly cursing this foolish femme-bot for missing the obvious, since he had landed right in front of them just moments ago.
“Oh,” Filesave continued, blushing in Megatron’s presence. “I’ve heard about robots who can fly. I just… I never thought I’d actually
meet one. What’s… what’s your name, sir?”
If Megatron didn’t have to maintain the Decepticons’ cover as an emergency team, he’d have blasted her for wasting his time. “My name is Megatron. Is there anything you wish to inform me about? You understand we’re busy here, and we must work undisturbed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Megatron; I do understand,” Filesave blurted in embarrassment. “It’s just that… well, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, but… may I trouble you for an autograph?”
Megatron couldn’t believe his ploy was
this effective. Well, there was a reason he and his followers were called
Decepticons. “Why, no trouble at all,” he said with false graciousness.
Filesave excitedly brought out a small datapad and a laser stylus, which Megatron accepted to scrawl his signature for this admirer. “Thank you so much, Megatron; this is such an honor!”
“Believe me, the honor is all mine,” Megatron lied with the strongest front of sincerity he could muster, his patience tested by this nuisance. “And I’m certain you will see me again some other time.” He handed the datapad and stylus back to Filesave and shook her hand.
“Oh, I can’t wait, sir!” Filesave blurted while vigorously shaking Megatron’s strong black hand clasped around hers. In a moment of spontaneity, she reached with her free hand to briskly rub the purple Decepticon symbol on his armored chestplate, then dashed off, diving head-first to the tarmac as she transformed to her cruiser-cycle mode. Her tires squealed as she raced down the road, the screeching barely covering her whoop of joy – sounding something like, “I touched his symbol!
I touched his symbol!” – from meeting this celebrity.
Megatron almost felt sorry for this scatterbrained little fool – almost – scowling as he watched her speed off in the distance. “What a gullible breed.”
“Hey, boss!” Dropkick called out. Apparently, he saw the whole thing while he and his drone crew were working. “What the slag was
that all about?”
Megatron turned to the site and strode into the warrior drones’ perimeter. “You don’t want to know. And frankly, nor do I.”
“Good thing for that,” Dropkick snorted. “I think we found something. Or… someone, I guess.”
Megatron joined Dropkick, who was accompanied by two of his transport drones. They had just cleared away a heap of twisted, half-melted rubble, and uncovered a dismembered body that was entombed underneath. Both legs were severed above the knees, and the torso had a wide, deep gash with melted edges across the chest. The left forearm was crushed beyond repair and missing its hand, but the right arm suffered a few cracked-open panels exposing internal circuitry. The worst damage was to the head, so extensive that any distinguishable external features were either completely stripped away or permanently disfigured. The helmet was vertically split in half and two-thirds of the faceplate were torn away, unmasking the face of a metallic skull inside with its jaw gaping open and fluids leaking out. Internal sensory modules like optic sensors disintegrated into ash. Miraculously, the brain casing was still intact.
“Holy slag,” Dropkick muttered. “Whatever happened to this guy, there ain’t much of him left. What do we do with it?”
“Soundwave,” Megatron ordered, “scan for life signs.”
The Decepticon Communications Officer stepped forward and crouched over the mutilated robot body. He activated the cylindrical sensor mounted on his right shoulder and scanned the carcass, searching for anything viable. “Energy signature detected,” Soundwave reported. “Presence of spark in stasis lock. Vital signs low.”
“So he is alive after all,” Megatron pondered. “I want a closer look at this… survivor.”
Soundwave trained his optic sensors and concentrated intensely on the victim’s brain casing. Scanning frequencies radiated from behind his deep-red optic visor lens and penetrated the casing, searching through the survivor’s memory banks, neuro-wiring, and other components in his cerebro-cortex. The data within was only partially scrambled, but there was enough to put together something of substance from the weakened mental impulses he could find.
“Condition of brain: cerebral impulses present, but on low-level power. Memory banks intact. Emotional circuitry burnt out due to radiation-induced overload. Logic centers damaged, but replaceable with upgrades.” Soundwave paused to study the memory banks further, and uncovered more information on the victim. “Subject identification: Highlight. Former technician in micro-electronics and design with Astro Magnum Precision Lasers & Electromagnetics. Released from occupation due to corporate takeover by Destron-Laserwave; attempted revenge by sabotaging stock of MP.29 laser vulcans.”
“So
he’s the one who blew up our guns,
and took this whole place with it!” Blacklight snarled. “Let me put him out of his misery so we can get some value for our deposit. He’ll die anyway.”
“Negative,” Soundwave countered. “One more item detected in memory. Scanning now.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Dropkick grumbled in frustration. “If we came all the way here to find a blown-up factory, a thrashed lab-bot, and no spoils to show for it, then I’m with Blacklight. Let’s just finish him off!”
But Soundwave’s last item in his diagnosis stayed the brute’s desire to inflict some violence. “Memory scan also identifies subject as true inventor of the MP.29 laser vulcan.”
“Is he now?” Megatron asked, as he observed the body closely, scratching his chin in thought. The Decepticons may not be able to plunder the goods they wanted, but with some innovative thinking and a calculated gamble on their resources, they could make off with a much greater prize. “How much longer until his spark extinguishes completely?”
“Three hundred thousand astroseconds in stasis lock,” Soundwave replied.
“We may be able to work that,” Megatron pondered before studying the wrecked building. “Are there any useful materials left in this heap of rubble that we could recover?”
“Laserbeak’s cursory scan indicates marginal value-to-waste ratio,” said Soundwave, “but a fair quantity of reuseable materials can be accessed.”
Megatron ran a few more thoughts about their find, the building, and their supplies back at their base before one more query. “Can we create a new exostructure for him?”
As Soundwave sought through the accounted data stored in his hyper-dense memory modules, Blacklight and Dropkick looked at each other in surprise at Megatron’s question, wondering why he would contemplate such an idea after their heated discussion back at the command centre. Then again, they thought, Megatron wouldn’t risk draining their resources on saving the life of a busted-up off-liner, unless he knew it would pay back in greater dividends. He had something in mind, and this barely-functioning scrap pile of a robot held the key.
Soundwave reached an answer within two astroseconds of breaking down the data. “Affirmative. We can rebuild him. We have the technology.”
“Excellent!” That was all Megatron needed to hear, before he opened a channel in his internal radio comlink. “Decepticons, salvage all usable materials or spare parts you can find from this glorified scrapyard.” Turning to his officers, he added, “Soundwave; disengage Highlight’s automatic revival mechanisms so that he does not spontaneously emerge from stasis lock. Dropkick; secure the injured and prepare him for transport. Every micro-spark of energy in this otherwise decrepit husk must be preserved, if this plan is to work. Blacklight; remain here for the excavation. When the work here is completed, return to base immediately.”
The warriors and transport drones went straight to work without question. Dropkick transformed to vehicle mode as Soundwave and Blacklight carefully loaded the remains of Highlight’s quasi-corpse into Dropkick’s cargo bay. As Blacklight rejoined the drone army, Soundwave climbed aboard Dropkick’s bay and attended to the body. Once secured, Megatron took to the air with Dropkick and his passengers following on the ground.
* * * * *
If there was a primordial program or a primeval code equivalent to a deity – Megatron was aware of believers in Primus, but hadn’t fully committed to the faith – he would have thanked It for blessing him with his genius, even if pride would be considered a sin. Such a task with scant materials at their disposal would have been considered impossible by the average mechanoid. But Megatron always believed the word “impossible” was found only in the dictionary of fools.
Highlight, on the other hand, would have Soundwave to thank – if he were conscious – for the first step toward his second chance. The knowledge of cybernetic medicine and electronics archived within Soundwave’s enormous memory stores allowed the Communications Officer to hastily cobble together a makeshift life support / systems backup module, carefully extract Highlight’s brain casing and spark core from his old, useless shell, and link them to the module to extend his life beyond Soundwave’s earlier diagnosis. Being rescued from gradual, painless death still meant imprisonment in stasis, but only temporarily. Time was still needed until the means to end his indeterminate living-death sentence was ready.
That time was being spent feverishly by the Decepticons in their underground base. Soundwave was fortunate that the Destron-Laserwave accident failed to wipe Highlight’s memory; he copied the plans of the MP.29 laser vulcan – down to the last bit – without any hint of corruption of that data in Highlight’s mind… and found the inspiration for the new exostructure’s alternate mode for transformation. Laborers and chemical engineers refashioned the raw metals and ores – both the contents already in their storage wing, and the new loads delivered by the transport drones – into newer fortified alloys. Digital programmers sought methods to bolster Highlight’s already-impressive intellect, as presumed by Soundwave’s scan readouts on their patient’s brain. Electro-neurosurgeons conceived new circuitry schematics that could support the light-speed thought processes and sensory inputs of a living being with exceptionally enhanced mental proficiency. And Megatron insisted on installing thrusters to enable the patient to fly on its own power, like with himself and Soundwave. The idea for the fueling system, however, was already laid out for them by the small nuclear reactor found in the laser vulcan’s design. Under Megatron’s supervision and Soundwave’s mentorship, constructing the new body for their patient would go through nicely.
But the operation would not be perfect. Limited supplies, energy budgets and safety restrictions forced practical concerns and compromises, marring the purity of the vision for this life-saving procedure. Decisions were made to emphasize the patient’s mental processes, physical strength, and multiple uses of the electromagnetic spectrum ranging anywhere from research to firepower. An ideal situation would have accommodated full internalization of the components for radiation conduit wiring and life support inside Highlight’s new body. But aesthetics had to take a back seat, so creative ideas were brainstormed to help the patient live and thrive while harnessing his vast cerebral – and offensive – potential. If future invasion missions could bring in greater quantities of resources, they could collect a surplus of materials to upgrade the body to a more efficient configuration, if Highlight so desired. For now, though, this would have to suffice.
* * * * *
Staccato burst of harsh static. Silence. Blinding sparkle of white light. Darkness. Short buzz of electricity. Subtle scent of ozone. Flickering blurred image. More flashes of static. Muffled sounds. Signals. Voices. Yes, definitely voices. That was what he interpreted, as he felt something contacting and adjusting the sensors and receptors on his head. The more touches he felt, the more clearly he perceived the sensory images coming into focus, including the silver visage with narrow red rhomboid optic lenses, framed in an angled, faceted helmet.
“Highlight,” he saw the faceplate speak in a deep, rough voice, edging on his audio receptors. “Highlight, can you hear me?”
“Yes.” Highlight was briefly startled by his own reply. He expected his faceplate to move when he spoke, but noticed his mouth didn’t budge. He instinctively tried to open his jaw, only to learn first-hand that he had no jaw. “What…? What is…?” he spoke again in fragments, not knowing how he could produce speech without feeling movement in his faceplate. He tried to reach for his head but couldn’t move his arms, which were restrained by clamps on his wrists. He instinctively clenched his fists to exert more force on the clamps, then remembered losing his left hand. But in its place was a long, narrow nozzle, like the retractable laser pointer he once had, only larger.
Highlight tried to move his legs as well, also to find they were held down by his ankles in the same manner as his arms. He also noticed his legs felt different as well; thicker and stronger, with something encased inside his boot units. In fact, his entire body felt much different than before his ill-fated confrontation with Magnificus and Swindle; much more powerful, feeling even more energy generating and radiating inside his own torso, almost wanting to explode from the new components channeling that power inside his chassis.
“Relax, Highlight,” the silver stranger said, placing a hand on Highlight’s shoulder to calm him down. “We found you severely injured at the site of the accident. So we brought you back to our base and built a new body for you.” The stranger turned his faceplate away from Highlight’s sight and gave an order to someone outside his field of vision. “Soundwave, reposition the repair berth platform. Vertical orientation.”
With a mechanical whirr vibrating under his back, Highlight could feel the platform to which he was restrained that this stranger was talking about. He could also see his surroundings scrolling upward in his view, as the balance centers in his brain interpreted that he was now upright. Highlight heard the stranger’s voice say, “Release restraints,” and felt the clamps around his wrists and ankles snap open, releasing him from the platform.
Highlight looked down to the floor, unexpectedly catching a glimpse of his new look. He brought his forearms into view, confirming his earlier suspicion that his left hand was replaced. He also spotted a pair of purple, angular, sharp-pointed sigils emblazoned on his forearms, one on each arm. And there was something else on his left arm: a cable hung from the underside of his forearm, with the other end embedded into the left side of his back behind his shoulder. With his arms free, he reached for his faceplate with his right hand – his only hand – and his tactile sensors said his head was also completely different, resembling the shape of a hexagonal prism. Confusion set in as he realized nothing was the same, except for his purple color scheme.
“Mirror,” Highlight said uncomfortably, still not believing that he was producing his own voice with no facial movement. In fact, his voice sounded not like himself, either. Slightly stilted, short on emotion, with none of his old laid-back, casual air. “I need… a reflective surface. Now.”
Highlight spotted another mechanoid in the premises, deep blue and silver, whom he assumed to be the stranger’s assistant. The blue robot fetched a metallic panel from a countertop and handed it to Highlight, who snatched it from the assistant’s hand and held it up to view. He could not believe that the image staring back at him – a hexagonal-shaped head with short grey antennas, and a small single yellow round lightbulb in the centre of a completely featureless “face” – was him. He expected to feel shock and panic… and was taken aback that he felt more subdued than normal. Not only had his body changed, but something in his mind as well, as if the emotional responses he once had were drastically reduced. Not like his emotional energies collided with an imaginary barrier in their path and wanted to smash it down. It was more like those energies had been dialed back to reduce their potency. He couldn’t “feel” like he used to anymore.
“What… have I become? What has… happened to me…?” Highlight uttered, half to his hosts and half to himself, not knowing how to react. All he could see and feel was that everything about him was nothing like his former life, and he couldn’t muster a sense of shock or trauma that his old self would have had. However, a thought intruded in his mind as he spoke. Did he just notice a glow of light inside his head, blinking with each syllable he said? And was this coming from the lightbulb embedded in his own faceplate?
The stranger came forward, joining the blue assistant already in Highlight’s view. He could see more of the stranger’s body, bearing a wide chest plate sporting the same symbol in the middle, and a massive black cannon on his right arm. “I am Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons,” he introduced himself, then gesturing to the other mechanoid. “This is Soundwave, my right-hand and Communications Officer. We anticipated this is how you’d react when reactivated.”
“You… you knew this would happen? Why would you do this?”
“I’m afraid these measures were necessary. You see, we Decepticons are pursuing our destiny to control Cybertron, in our first step to conquest of the universe. But we have only just begun, and our resources to date are not abundant. However, thanks to Soundwave’s expertise and the efforts of my followers, leaving you to permanent deactivation would be a waste of your talents.”
“And
this was the result of your
best efforts?” Highlight retorted, his voice barely edging up a slight degree of intensity, as the mirrored metal slipped from his hand and clattered on the floor.
“Results were optimal due to imposed limitations,” Soundwave explained in his vocoded voice. “Internalizing conduit cable to nuclear reactor would intensify concentrated radiation; vital components would deteriorate. Head module required simplified design, emphasizing sensory processing efficiency. Life support and systems backup module was permanently incorporated as dorsal unit for survival. Remaining materials allowed creation of only one hand.”
“Indeed,” said Highlight, slowly overcoming the surprise of his new life, but still not quite ready to accept this new situation. “So what does this all mean for me now? Where do I go from here?”
“Come with us,” Megatron answered cordially, as he and Soundwave led Highlight from the medical laboratory. “And we’ll show you.”
* * * * *
“So as I had explained earlier,” Megatron continued as he and Soundwave guided Highlight on a tour of their base, “we must operate in secret, preventing current and future enemies from tracking us or learning when we’ll strike. But our last mission was stymied by the presence of Guardian robot sentinels, and I could not be present on site to alter our strategy on the spot.”
“Thus, you need an officer responsible for your operations’ strategic elements?” said Highlight, only partly sounding like a guess, but already deducing Megatron’s request.
“Exactly. But it’s more than that. Your logic centers have been enhanced for precisely that purpose, replacing the emotional circuitry we couldn’t save when operating on you. However, in an event that we may be forced to confront a powerful foe, we also need an even more powerful countermeasure.”
As Megatron spoke, the three Decepticons entered another wing of their secret base. It consisted of a wide unpaved path, with short stands on the far end of the chamber away from the visitors. Pieces of scrap sat atop the stands, while other scraps with puncture holes lay scattered on the ground by them. Objects in basic three-dimensional geometric forms acted like transmitters, emitting weak signals from their short antennas. “This is our target practice range,” Megatron said as he gestured to the facility. “You may test your new powers when ready.”
Highlight observed the various targets at the opposite wall. He selected a piece of scrap metal, trained his optic lens on the target, ran a diagnostic, and aimed the nozzle on his left wrist socket at it. A command from his brain travelled instantaneously to the reactor built into his chassis. Power generated and violently rushed through the conduit cable into his left forearm, and burst forth in a concentrated beam of light energy, burning a hole into the target.
“Good,” Megatron observed with a nod. “But this is only the start. When Soundwave designed your exostructure, he incorporated schematics of a particular project he found while studying your mind. You are in fact capable of drawing power from the entire electromagnetic spectrum.”
Highlight paused to run this idea through his mind. This sounded familiar, especially the phrases
electromagnetic spectrum,
particular project, and
studying your mind. His logic circuits broke them all down and reached another conclusion, which he wordlessly put into action. He experimented with the other radiation weapons in his arsenal for different targets in the firing range. He jammed the transmitters with radio waves; melted down other scraps of metal with intense infra-red rays; induced fluorescence in a brightly-colored object with an ultra-violet burst; and uncovered the internal mechanisms of another transmitter with an X-ray emission.
Megatron and Soundwave watched in approval as Highlight tested out his newly-found powers. “Excellent. With enough practice, you shall harness your powers to the point that your mastery of them will be effortless.”
But there was one more question left to answer. “Megatron, you mentioned Soundwave incorporated schematics of a design he found in my mind. What exactly do you mean?” he asked, although he believed he already knew the answer.
Megatron could have simply told it to him, but instead chose to make his point by having Highlight surprise himself. “See for yourself, Highlight. Transform!”
Highlight reasoned he would have a different alternate mode than his old hover sled form. As he did when testing his electromagnetic weaponry, Highlight opened another cerebral command protocol in his mind and did as Megatron ordered. His arms straightened and swung up over his head, which retracted into his massive chest module. His body bent forward at his hips while his legs merged and retracted against his torso, and felt a jolt of surprise as hidden anti-gravity pods under his boots automatically charged up and had him hover a short space over the ground. But that surprise was barely a single silicon grain compared to his shock from his first transformation into his new alternate mode.
A giant version of the MP.29 laser vulcan.
He became his own invention.
Unaware of the sheer power that percolated inside his new power cells, he tried one more setting that his previous self once avoided enabling in his old creation.
A scintillating high-intensity blast of gamma-ray radiation surged from his barrel and plowed into the firing range’s far wall, completely disintegrating it.
Highlight wasn’t the only one surprised by this startling performance. “Well, then,” Megatron chuckled, veiling his astonishment. “We needed a new target practice facility anyway.”
Highlight transformed back to his robot mode, and emotionlessly admired his handiwork. “I can appreciate this, Megatron. But my diagnostics say power levels have dropped below 84%.”
“Unfortunate, but anticipated,” said Soundwave. “Schematics of your laser vulcan concept were compatible with your core consciousness. However, this also carried over the laser vulcan’s inherent weaknesses, such as the high-drain nature of electromagnetic emissions on power sources.”
“In that case, I will simply need to learn more about my powers, and how to use them wisely. That will not be a problem.”
“Excellent, Highlight,” said Megatron in satisfaction. “I consider this first experiment a success. In light of this, I now formally extend my offer. Will you join us in the Decepticon cause, and pledge fealty to your leader?”
Having been granted a new lease on life and new powers he never dreamed of having before, Highlight’s effortless decision barely took a fraction of an astrosecond. “Affirmative. I accept your proposition, and swear loyalty to you… Lord Megatron.”
“Then from this moment,” Megatron responded with a nod of approval, “I declare you, Highlight, my new Decepticon Military Operations Commander.”
Highlight ran a few more thoughts in his processor. He had a new body, a new mind, new powers, a new title, a new home, and most importantly, a new life. But something was missing. Everything was new, except for one factor. “I am honored to serve under your command, Megatron,” he replied, “but I have one request, if Soundwave will bear witness.”
“What would that request be?”
“I would like a new name.”
* * * * *
Storage Yard 67 was not a viable target to strike. Not yet.
Shockwave – no longer Highlight – came to that conclusion after analyzing the data Megatron and Soundwave showed him. The Decepticons’ supplies were already too far below acceptable levels, before a substantial portion was invested in reconstructing Shockwave into his new form. If he hadn’t been rebuilt, and the target location was not protected by Guardian robots, an invasion may have succeeded. Attacking now even without the Guardian threat would only have a razor-edge margin of success, at best. As things stood, the warehouse complex and its tremendous stores of energy would have to wait.
But only for now. Instead, Shockwave suggested an elaborate long-term plan. Send Laserbeak to covertly investigate smaller, less-guarded points of attack, prioritizing areas far away from Storage Yard 67 and the Decepticons’ past missions. Though plundering these smaller locations would not yield a great short-term gain, they would gradually accumulate their spoils while encountering less resistance at these objectives. When the target locations are selected, space each attack at irregular, seemingly random periods, not at fixed intervals, in order to confound attempts to track them in a pattern and intercept them. By the time these smaller missions are completed and the Decepticon army reinforced – and given the rate at which Storage Yard 67’s warehouses have been collecting their energy stockpiles – the capacity of riches at “the big one” would be 59.7806% greater than its current state.
Megatron became more impressed with his recruit, watching as Shockwave mapped out the rough overview of the plan, dissected specific details at each separate phase, and devised alternate courses of action in case of the unlikely event of a counterattack. One wouldn’t expect this level of military strategic talent from a mere laboratory technician. But Shockwave’s methodical approach augmented by his new logic enhancements made transferring his skills from science to warfare look effortless. Before long, each phase in Shockwave’s step-by-step strategy regained valuable momentum the Decepticons had lost, reaping greater harvests at a nigh-exponential rate faster than Megatron himself could have envisioned. This execution of Shockwave’s first military operation accelerated the stockpiling of their supplies, gaining so much that they could reschedule their attack on Storage Yard 67 a few deka-cycles early, if they wanted. Based on his figures, Shockwave advised against this action, opting to stay on schedule in order to capitalize on the maximum energy yield possible from their future target.
Still, this triumph in military strategy didn’t mean Shockwave would completely abandon his technical vocations. While Soundwave was already impressively knowledgeable in science and technology, Shockwave’s own expertise from his past career would develop new innovations extrapolating on that knowledge, applying them to their stolen hauls. Very soon, “Project: Seeker” could finally be put into action, and perhaps more new technologies and ideas could spawn from Shockwave’s future contributions, all of which Megatron would greatly appreciate.
As for Shockwave, he grew to appreciate more than just the electromagnetic powers that he could harness in his new form, and the new life granted to him by Megatron and Soundwave’s endeavors. He recalled his past life as Highlight, working with old lab partner Magnificus, up until the time he robbed him of his concept for the laser vulcan… an invention that he eventually became. Looking back, he wondered how his old undisciplined mind could have ever worked at all with someone like Magnificus and his strict adherence to rules, let alone work together on effective projects. But when his multi-step invasion plan garnered better results than expected, it came clear: he and Magnificus enjoyed their accomplishments, if not each other’s company, back at Astro Magnum due to the proper meshing of the best of their fortes.
Imagination for its own sake can breed countless ideas, but without a controlled approach to harness them, many of those ideas can become stillborn. Rules can bring about order and coherence, but also suffocate creativity, or even be manipulated toward an ulterior motive. The most effective approach, Shockwave reasoned, is disciplined imagination properly channeled in the right direction, set in a rational structure. Of course, there is the ever-present element of chance versus the yield of reward… and knowing the right moment to take calculated risks.
The rejection of his proposal. The loss of his intellectual property. The disastrous confrontation at Destron-Laserwave. The arrival of Megatron and his restoration to life. And now, his first military campaign. All these lessons transformed him, not only in his body, but in his entire outlook. And those lessons taught him to favor clear thought over rash action. His new name was merely the last touch in shedding his old life.
As for what lay in his future, Shockwave couldn’t say with total certainty – not without more data on forthcoming events to analyze and hypothesize, before predicting an outcome. He was once too confident in laying out his future plans, never thinking his life would swerve in a totally different direction. But he was right about some things he said in his old life: anything really can happen in this Golden Age, more than anyone would imagine. He also thought about those words exchanged in his confrontation with Magnificus – insight, foresight, action, and personal drive – which he found in the charismatic figure who saved his life. Megatron embodied these traits: a formula for theoretically immeasurable undiscovered prospects that could progress beyond the Golden Age, however long this era would last. The fact that his first contribution to his savior’s cause had amplified that progress so significantly could
not be a coincidence.
His systematic mind did not account for fate, destiny, or other such abstract concepts in his analyses. But whether or not Megatron rescuing him from death was dictated by supernatural intervention was immaterial. He concluded that his place now was under Megatron’s command.
After all, Shockwave reasoned…
it’s only logical.
