METATISIC: PART TEN

TITLE: Metatisic., Metatisic: Saga One
TYPE: Transformers G1 fiction
AUTHOR: Megan Seekings & A. Chandler
FIRST RELEASE: 1985, 1986, & 1987.
Revised edition 5/8/03, 2004-2008
RATED: PG

_{SUMMERY: Unable to obtain it from their native planet of Cybertron, Decepticon leader, Galvatron resorts to excavating an asteroid particle that has tested positive for Cybertonium, dispatching a crew to retrieve it. But as the surface layers are removed, trace outline of an ancient staircase unintentionally leads the party on a sudden and very unexpected journey deep into Cybertronian history prior to the first Great War some 14 million years ago!}



CHAPTER 6: MEGATRON OF MY OWN DESIGN


There had been the hint of suspicion left in the mode of his final grin --in how he held his chalice between his thumb and middle finger making slow wet patterns in the perspiration undecidedly just before he departed for the exit. That they were time travelers was probably not his first opinion of them, but this Decepticon leader had indeed observed something. Cyclonus was positive of that much. If the monarch was even remotely close in same mannerism to that of Galvatron it was a sure bet that all three of them were going to be slowly dissected for the answer.

"Decepticon Cyclonus!" Sarterius bellowed from right. "You answered first for your men. I'm assuming that makes you the leader of this operation."

Cyclonus hadn't the chance to clarify his intuition before the general signaled the direction he was to take with his weapon pointing, "You and your comrades will follow me."

That was a five astro-minutes ago ...Six, perhaps. With the Sweep marching directly behind him and the small Rumble in front at his feet, Cyclonus's thoughts moved passed the cassette and fixed upon the outline of Metatisic walking just ahead of them several feet down the causeway; Sarterius joined at his hip. The tails of the scarlet mantle the Dourjer wore, synched shoulder plate to shoulder plate, lofted around his stride. It anchored the blue jet's own disturbing, nagging hunch.

Was it the manner in which he spoke? Something lingering in the confident attitude of his marching gate? Metatisic's studious first inspection of them haunted him. Images flicked through his mind like a jerky, silent black and white film smearing grainy pictures of Galvatron and pictures of home --Pictures of that first grin in all its familiar grace. Briefly, Cyclonus was reminded of the ceremonial plaza where Starscream had been momentarily crowned their new king. The ancient Catalyst of Cybertron, all the statues curving round about the forum bore that same identical detailed tension in their carved faces. It could, in fact just be a common ancestral trait? But that persuasion did not explain Rumble's stunned, floored demeanor upon being introduced to the ancient ruler. The small Decepticon seemed to know something about Metatisic and had been on the verge of telling him a moment before.

Certain that the general and his Lord was far enough ahead of them, and that Beat Down wasn't behind them, Cyclonus tugged the electro-chain hooked between himself and his companion, "Rumble?"

The ramp angled left here, steeping to usher a long vaulted sector of the passageway. Clearly this was no longer the way they had originally come. Archway after archway appeared to stem off from it opening out into further corridors of the same, bridges and yet a further series of arches so that there appeared to be no end to them. For an instant, its grandeur stole the question he was going to ask from him and reminded the lieutenant of the position they found themselves in. Glorious as the triumph of this architecture was, there was no way back or out that he could see.

"Rumble I saw the way you loo— "

"How I looked at him?" Rumble already knew what Cyclonus wanted. "--Or that he looks like the statue we discovered at those ruins on the asteriod?"

The cue of insult in his tone of voice triggered a swell of anger within the co-commander, but the smaller Decepticon looked clearly concerned, perhaps even a little scared. Rumble dared to glance forward to where the section began to yawn out. It was much brighter ahead of them now and Metatisic disappeared in the momentary high glare.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice" Rumble continued. "I don't know of too many that haven't heard at least one legend regarding him."

"Count me among the rare few --What do you know of him?"

"The truth?"

"Enlighten me" Scourge interrupted from behind Cyclonus' shoulder.

"He's a god" Rumble replied.

"Try to be serious"

"I am! Metatisic was said be a brilliant strategist, Scourge. What document recordings I know of him take note that the old empire flourished, expanding new reaches, under his command. And he was obsessed with technological advancements in robotic engineering --mass shifting, the development of seeker jets--"

Rumble seemed so startled by his own knowledge that it trembled in his vocalizer. He looked at Cyclonus again, "He was genius."


1


The testament of a ancestor so mighty in stature, but like the Bractos he commanded, he had become a shadowed name within the blends of history and mythical lore until he was lost forever. That he existence at all, most modern Decepticons degraded to simple fantasies and wishful fiction, even with all he had left behind. If what Rumble said was the truth, he himself, was a product of the foundations he had created. Not only could he mass-shift, but he was also a jet.


2


Cyclonus thought about quizzing Rumble some more, but ahead of them the general was waiting, watching and gilded on each flank by gargantuan columns where the corridor suddenly zagged through what turned out to be the massive belly of a dome-shaped chamber instead of the outside Cyclonus had figured it was. The questions would have to wait.

The magnificent spills of light seen earlier from the causeway came from the discovery that this new room had no ceiling at all --and hardly any floor for that matter, except for a grate bridge path on which they walked. It broke just ahead. Wordlessly, the saboteur' lips cracked open. Far beneath the span, waters churned and boiled as they spilt from a wave-wore precipice into a river system several hundred feet below, and then slipped black and silent between three vertical megaliths belonging to the Iysurus' superstructure.

"Trypticon would get lost in this place!" Scourge sputtered. "Ten Trypticons even!" The sweep craned his head up a staircase twining another colossal pillar within the dome. Following the stairway's curl, he saw how it left the pillar and arched away to what appeared to be nothing more than a tiny platform bearing an altar. It floated there under the skies directly over the city. Scores of bridges latticed throughout the interior.

"Impressed?"

The sudden question startled the sweep. Scourge's optics snapped to his side and gated upon the Decepticon leader Metatisic. He had been following his fixation on the spaces overhead. In the blaze of the star, none of them had seen him standing there.

"My father's grand-creator built this" Metatisic was quick to reveal. It was pride; a show of his might. "It was his greatest triumph. Indeed the magnitude of Decepticon supremacy prisms within every beam until there is nothing left to further proclaim."

"The stair doesn't go anywhere" Scourge picked out. "What is it for?"

"Doesn't go anywhere? But of course it does. It touches the very breath of Megadyne so that I might commune with him."

Metatisic promptly pointed now, "You see all those pads there?" he asked. "Each one of them absorb the power of the Karna when its greatest rays are at their summit so that it can be used to generate the city."

"Magnificent, mighty one." Cyclonus' concentration sailed from the overpasses to settle upon the monarch who stood beside him. Metatisic immediately reveled in a smile --not at their praise, but to the arrival of a lift pod that was nearing the bridge from below. Sarterius pointed it out.

Nodding once, Metatisic moved towards it. A mechanical purr resounded throughout the combs of the palace complex as the lift thudded into port and cued yet another surprise —a viaduct just to the right droned to life suddenly, elbowed towards the transport unit, and locked with a boom into place completing the remainder of the missing causeway. When the doors peeled open, their audience was welcomed to a very familiar robot.

Cyclonus flinched when he saw him. Taking a step backwards, his stare floated across the visitor's purple armored plate just in time to catch Rumble's alarmed expression. His lips were moving, but he wasn't saying anything. Trying to conceal his surprise from Sarterius' constant, watchful interrogation, Cyclonus' gaze settled upon the being.

"Shockwave!" Metatisic reached to touch the mech's shoulder affectionately.

By Primus, it really was Shockwave! The giant formally held his single hand flat to his head like a visor. "Hail, Mighty Metatisic!" he greeted.

As he spoke to his leader, the yellow neon bulb winking from the center of his face plate that had always been its only signature ornament, called to mind a bittersweet recollection within Cyclonus to when Unicron had launched his final assault upon Cybertron for Galvatron's disobedience. Shockwave was the last of a dying bred of guardian robots. True to his primary function, he had perished in defense of that duty for the sake of his home's preservation. It was a powerful act of commitment that very few mechs would be so willing to make now. It was a sacrifice Cyclonus held much deep respect and admiration for.

"It does me good to see you are well Metatisic" Shockwave rejoiced. "I was informed of the disturbance." He peered over at Scourge, "Are these the intruders?"

"Them? No. Sarterius caught them at the Ta'nakian borders. They are expeditionist —Or so they say. I have in mind to satisfy that claim for myself in due time."

"I see."

His stance shifted. It was then that they realized that the robot had not come alone. A smaller Decepticon, not much taller than Rumble, stood quietly and just level with the guardian's thigh. A startling, unexplained chill spidered Cyclonus' central system when he saw him and the volume of the conversation suddenly shrank away.

"And the intruder?"

"The intruder was swiftly dispatched" Sarterius confirmed.

"Yes, the guards took ample care of that" Metatisic agreed, but then quickly tsked, "– Damn them to slag" he grumbled.

Cyclonus zoned in on the vornling once more, fixed on the strobes of light refracting across the child's armor harkened back to the silver fields of Cybertron turned crystal white in the zenith of the Alpha-Centari. A dawning revelation threatened to tear him apart internally. His eyes gulfed wider still and the volume magnified once more.

"What of them?" Shockwave's single eye looked more like a search light beacon crossing over the three Decepticons from 2009.

"I will have Legate appoint them some duties shortly. That'll be where I'd like for you to come in. This one here is the ring leader, if I recall." Metatisic turned to Cyclonus and thumped his shoulder when he didn't respond directly, "You!"

Cyclonus jerked his direction.

"Yes, you! Cyclonus, are you? This is Shockwave," the Dourjer introduced. "Do know him well as I'm sure you'll be seeing him a lot more in your future."

Metatisic went on to finally reveal the scope of his plan for them. One by one, and what their jobs would be. For each he also added a firm, strong admonition about limits, his expectations, total discipline and obedience. There was no in between and nothing beyond that would be tolerated.

"In lue of the charges that were spoken against you and your comrades," he spoke, looking over the lot of them like so many heads of cattle, "You are all free at my order as I have previously declared. However, that freedom will be to the confides of this palace only. This will stay in effect until I personally feel it sound to exonerate you of those allegations, or, in a matter of saying, when I have decided you were telling me the truth. Your duties--"

Their duties would be as he appointed them. Cyclonus, listening to him explain, feeling full with equal conflicted spells of excitement at the prospects of being here, yet a complete and total comprehension that the reason for the Dourjer's verdict meant his degraded position in this time period. He, Scourge, and Rumble were nothing to this Decepticon ruler! They bore no standing, no rank, welded no authority here, and worse yet, they were suspected traitors. To Metatisic, each of them were no more important to him than the slagged ruins of the Rougeon rebels back at Oh'iiden.

Shockwave, Metatisic disclosed, was not only his personally appointed chief-of-engineers in his mission into the furtherance of his vision of technological advance, but that he held a even higher position of standing as the elite guardian to his son. Anything to do with the boy was Shockwave's matter alone and absolutely, strictly none of their business or concern. Shockwave, Metatisic furthered, was to see to it that they each carried out their daily duties quickly, efficiently, and soundlessly. Was that understood?

Cyclonus wavered, thinking. Choice? Not really here.

The tinted panes of the Dourjer's optics slanted, darkening in various degrees. "All royal quarters are off limits unless I command otherwise" he ordered. "Your treatment here I will leave entirely up to you. If you are fair with me, I will be fair with you. Deceive me once--" Metatisic scolded with a stiff, straight finger, "--and it will be the last error that you will ever make."

"Yes, and that I will be the one making certain of." Sarterius' hand crept to his weapon and empathized the point. "You're much too merciful, m'lord." He said with a coltish grin.

"Yes, yes, I know it. You don't have to tell me —Now then!" A smile glazed Metatisic's lips. Stooping towards the Decepticon vornling still snug at Shockwave's waist, he took the boy by one hand.

"My son," the monarch spoke to the child, pointing. "This is Cyclonus. And these here are his comrades, Scourge and Rumble. They will be here with us for awhile. They've been to Cybertron. They are explorers." Metatisic blinked in Cyclonus' direction imparting his smile and the vornling. Mech fluid prickled the lieutenant's brow. If it was clear before, it reached a pinnacle not even the summit of the Karna star could dare challenge:

"This is my son," Metatisic sounded delighted. "Megatron."