[ti]Ep 3[/ti]The path not traveled. [Skirmisher and Flamesnort]

[Deleted]

Episode 3, Week 1, Day 4
Noon
100km West of the Oregon - Idaho - Nevada border junction

The sky was blue with the barest splattering of soft white clouds on the western horizon. The sun was high and bright and warm. Somewhere, lazily hugging terrain and sticking firmly below local ground based radar, a de Haviland Vampire flew causally at 350kph due west.

It was a good day to stretch wings. Which was not exactly what Flamesnort was doing. He never felt the desire to just go out and fly like other naturally forged fliers. It had been over three months since the bombing of Haven, and yet still Flamesnort was still trying to sort out how he felt. He could argue both sides of the coin, and had certainly been doing so in the privacy of his own processor. But ultimately the bombing felt wrong and unproductive. That was the word. Felt. The actions taken by Starscream went against his ideals but not necessarily against cold logic. War had changed them all, Decepticons and Autobots alike, but Flamesnort had slept away the last thousand millenia and had not changed with his fellows. They had become even colder and harder while he had not.

He had happily agreed to patrol duties. He would much rather swim than fly but he simply needed out of the base. Too many people, too much ego, and too many conflicting ambitions, devious conniving ambitions. Flamesnort needed space to think, he needed to get tactical, and he wasn't sure he could afford to be too patient with his planning.

[Skirmisher]

[Episode 3: Week 1: Day 4: 2000 Hours UTC (8 PM)/12:00 PM PST (Las Vegas is roughly 8 Hours behind UTC]]

[Location: Earth: North American Continent: United States of America: Nevada: 100km/62 Miles Nevada Border Junction between West Oregon and Idaho]

Rivers that appeared as little more than streams cut through the desert terrain dotted with patches of green -- cultivated farmland passed far beneath him. The dorsal hull of the V-22 Osprey clad in the same gray-to-white scheme of the U.S. Air Force with its ventral plating clad in white to allow the craft to blend into the sky from those curious on-lookers below. The only method in which someone from the ground could have followed or observed the VTOL craft had either been with a high powered telescope with an impressive series of lenses or so he believed, or if someone had been in a trailing aircraft. The Osprey had maintained a relatively level flight at an Altitude of roughly a little over two thousand feet due more to the relatively low risk of being observed too closely and the view had been rather impressive.

The last three months had been witness to more than a few events that would have been viewed as either incomprehensible to downright dangerous and not worth the waste of Rationed Energon. The reasons leading up to the Massacre of the Residents of Haven and the Bombing of Haven had been unthinkable while the Truce had remained in place, and hadn't been something any of them -- Autobot or of the Neutral Faction had in their wildest nightmares anticipated. The Destruction of Haven had nearly wiped out a sizable portion of the Autobot's numbers with Optimus Prime, Javelin, Patches, Carbine, Bluestreak, and Skystone present in Haven at the time. His Enforcer Code had allowed him to bear witness, to acknowledge and to move forward in dealing with the deaths of the Majority of Haven's Residents coupled with the destruction of the Neutral Colony, but the Field Medic Coding had refused to allow him to leave until rendering what medical treatment he'd been able to.

He'd missed the brunt of the destruction of his home city those Millennia ago having been preoccupied in the surrounding hills, but he'd been among the first to have volunteered to search for any that had survived the destruction of Praxis. Seeing the devastation of Haven with those Mechs and Femmes that hadn't wanted anything to do with the Great War or had simply burned out from it had brought back painful memories of seeing the melted spires of his old hometown, and he'd almost lost it. He'd almost become something Vault -- his Old Partner -- would have hated and they had both seen in younger Enforcers in the early Cycles of the Great War. The Truce both Camps had agreed to and had survived under for a time had ended marked by that event, and both sides were allowed to return to a more militant mindset. The atmosphere of the Omega Outpost had changed to a more militant one where shortly after the events at Haven a Raid -- a Successful Raid on a Decepticon Energon Mine had been planned and carried out. Skirmisher had to admit he hadn't expected that kind of ruthlessness from the reigning Prime, but had with his own optical visor witnessed the power of the Prime. A Leader. That is what the Autobots needed, and Optimus Prime had given it to them.

His suspicions on the absence of Megatron had been confirmed with the Destruction of Haven. Starscream had orchestrated it, and carried it out in an attempt to decapitate the Autobot Leadership and wipe out a majority of the Autobots present on Earth while insuring Mechs and Femmes that hadn't wanted a part in their War or had simply been burned out as collateral damage. He'd known that even Megatron wouldn't have been so vile.

The Praxian Enforcer's number at the Patrol Rotations had come up, and after filling out the prerequisite forms for a Patrol had filed a Flight Plan with the computers at the Outpost. He'd used a Ground Bridge to bridge out to a random spot from the Outpost, and had taken off before the Sun rose that morning. His scanners had been set to an optimum range with the sensitivity set to detect any Decepticon activity on the terrain beneath him, and in the surrounding skies. The protective glass of the portholes along the hull to the cockpit canopy had been heavily tinted in the same fashion as those Osprey's utilized by the Air Force itself, and as a measure to protect the Crew from having their retina burned out if he'd had a Crew.

[Deleted]

Flamesnort had yet to come to grip with the units humans used to measure distances. Kilometers, miles, nautical miles, leagues, and fathoms. They were alien units and Flamesnort didn't care to learn them. If he had to describe his altitude to a squishy human, it would be two to three tree units. That is, he was on average one to two times the height of an average tree above the trees below. Not very high for an aircraft traveling at the speed he was, but he was comfortable. Viewed from above, his dark green blended somewhat with the green below. From below his black underside blended not at all with the blue sky of mid day.

He wasn't looking for any trouble at all, but simple caution meant he kept scanning for it nonetheless. It was because of his simple caution that he did finally catch sight of another aircraft some distance above traveling on the same bearing due west. The other aircraft was difficult to spot and so Flamesnort had no idea how long it might have been there. Maybe ten minutes passed with Flamesnort keeping a close eye on the aircraft, looking for any hints of purpose. The Decepticons kept a database of known Earth bound Autobots and their alt-modes if known. Among them were several fliers. The aircraft that Flamesnort was observing bore strong resemblance to one of the ‘bots on file as best as he could recall. The chances that even if there was a correct match on the alt-mode that this was an autobot however was slim. Still Flamesnort eventually made up his mind changed course just a fraction. He yawed five degrees southward to a new heading of 265 degrees. It was a tiny course change but it would be enough to see if he was being tailed or not.

[Skirmisher]

[Week 1: Day 4: 2010 (8:10 PM) UTC/12:10 PM PST]

[Location: Earth: North American Continent: United States of America: Nevada: Nevada Border Junction between West Oregon and Idaho]

An aircraft altering its Bearing, Heading, or Altitude hadn't been something his scanners would have normally picked out as suspicious or even that alarming taking into account how there were millions of aircraft on this Planet. There are various kinds ranging from those privately purchased by Civilians, to the large Commercial Airlines ferrying passengers back and forth between cities and those utilized by the Military that ranged from bulky transports to fighters whose greatest strengths rested in either stealth or speed. He would have kept on course without really giving the other aircraft about fifteen hundred feet below him further consideration except that his scanners detected the distinct lines of a Decepticon Ensign located on the aircraft's dorsal nose. The aircraft's model had been too small to be one of those large luxury liners with quad-engine configuration models to the twin-engine models that crammed as many passengers inside as possible that the Commercial Airline Operators favored, and the lines of the model had been far too menacing for a Civilian Light Craft. The Aircraft hadn't been one of the massive Transports used by the Military which left a single conclusion in that the Model had been that of a Fighter, and with the Decepticon Ensign having been analyzed by his scanners the Enforcer had wanted to observe the Decepticon for as long as possible or at least until the Decepticon made the first move.

He'd been an Enforcer long enough to have learned to give a suspect a wide berth, and not to simply turn to give chase or tail them. The Enforcer maintained his original Heading at the same steady velocity, but had known he'd have to turn towards the South for a short time before having altered his Bearing a second time. He'd studied the Patrol Patterns of the US Air Force and along with how in his own Tours in Praxis where he'd altered his routes now and then to insure that while other Cybertronians had known about an Enforcer's Patrols they wouldn't be able to predict his movements. It had seemed to be the same notion the US Air Force, and the other Branches of the US Military had in keeping their own Patrols of a less than predictable nature.

Though he hadn't had reason to swoop down on the Fighter below, he'd had more than enough reason to track them. The Truce had been rendered Null and Void for the last several months, and their arms hadn't been bound behind their backs anymore. He'd learn as much about this Decepticon as possible and hopefully from a distance rather than up close and personal -- or at least that had been the idea. Dipping his left wing a little, he'd banked to the left altering his Heading to the South keeping both a distance from the Fighter and maintained his altitude of roughly two thousand feet. While his scanners had kept track of the Fighter-craft, he hadn't left a blind eye to his rear or to the adjacent skies.

[Deleted]

It didn't take long for Flamesnort to see that sure enough, he was being tailed afterall. He figured he had several options.

Accelerate to a speed that other couldn't follow. This was easily achievable but would be an inefficient use of energon, and still make his presence seem even more suspicious. Flamesnort had no real desire to further raise concerns.

He could maneuver, reverse his heading, and even confront the tailing aircraft. Again this would achieve little in the way of positive results. Flamesnort had little chance of winning a dogfight, he had no guns.

The most sensible option was to do nothing at all until he got to the coast. He guessed he had range and endurance seeing as his form was more streamlined of the two aircraft. He could even go for a swim and thoroughly confuse the other aircraft. He was fully capable of hitting the water while transformed and only when submerged change to his robot mode.

Instead Flamesnort picked another option, one of talking - id by a very slim chance the other was an Autobot. He felt the need for a shakeup, to through his usual caution to the wind and take a leap. There were times in life, he felt, that cautious steps wouldn't get you over the chasm were a big leap might. Perhaps that was today. Using a common shortwave radio frequency for Cybertronians comms, he pinged the other aircraft.

::Zeta Prime had a rusty motherboard!::

[Skirmisher]

“Everyone's allowed some eccentricities,” Skirmisher said, over the same channel.

    His suspicions had been confirmed when the other aircraft, the Decepticon in disguise had opened with a transmission on a short-wave com-line universal to most Cybertronians. Though he hadn't had Justifiable Cause to tail the Decepticon in question or to force him to land, Skirmisher had been curious as to why a Decepticon had been that far South flying without an escort or a Wingman. Though the Truce had ended and the Buddy System had been largely dropped in the Autobot Camp, the Enforcer had known by experience that Decepticons rarely traveled alone even on seemingly random patrols. While that hadn't been the only reason he'd been curious about the lone Decepticon's presence, it hadn't helped either. There had been certain similarities between Human Justice and Cybertronian Justice wherein both had required first Probable Cause followed by a Warrant in order to pursue an investigation or an arrest, but as the Decepticon hadn't caused anything other than a mere suspicion flying alone Skirmisher hadn't had a reason to do more than perhaps talk with the guy.

    Even though there had been a War raging for millennia between their two Camps, there had always been that instance where the Rank and File or even Officers had met on non-hostile terms to exchange an Energon Ration or cup of Hot Oil even when an engagement had been particularly fierce. Those encounters had always occurred outside of the audio range or optical range of those in charge. Regardless, Skirmisher had to approach the situation in a professional manner and had to keep his Ion Magnum close unless a non-hostile situation developed. He'd been in too many encounters where a suspect pulled a sidearm or worse a cannon before opening fire on him or the other Enforcers he'd been with.

[Deleted]

It was confirmed then. In spite of pure numerical odds, the aircraft was an Autobot flier. Just keep flying, pretend nothing was wrong and stay calm and collected. Much of the usual then for Flamesnort.

“Eccentricities are the property of the rich and powerful, which was the problem. He oppressed half the population into a caste system which only benefited the brightplates. Optimus Prime is eccentric, Megatron is eccentric.Yourself, myself, all the soldiers, we’re just straight crazy. But that’s one mech’s crazy opinion. How do you find this dirt ball?” Flamesnort asked. His words carried little venom, just a casual rant of the disenfranchised.

The decepticon was far more worried about the probable existence of the Autobot’s wingman. Flamensort had no idea about the combat effectiveness of the Autobot he could see and even less idea about any Autobots he couldn't see. With some luck, maybe he could get away with a wayward conversation between soldiers of opposing forces. And at the same time take back as much data as he could for his own side.

[Skirmisher]

“Do you always start conversations in this manner?” Skirmisher asked, simply curious. He had to admit Decepticons in his experience had always resorted to blaster fire over an exchange of information.

“I could go into how we've had our mistakes, as the Life Forms on this planet and others have or how paradise is often ruined by those seeking perfection. Everyone has an idea of what that perfection is, and attempts to instill order through their egos,” he'd say, sweeping the area with his scanners. "I could, but I won't go into a vast philosophical discussion. I think both of us would rather be spared that. I'm curious as to how a Decepticon would rather attempt a conversation over drawing of a blaster or the lock on of a missile,”

He'd kept his distance, and altitude from the smaller aircraft. The nacelles housing the rotors remained angled forward allowing the Osprey to have a more traditional method of flight. His own flight recorders had switched on which hadn't entirely been something he'd held control over.

[Deleted]

“Straight to the point. An admirable trait. So be it. I could bluff and say something like the missiles are already on their way but that gets us nowhere except paranoia.” Flamesnort paused for a moment to organise his thoughts.

“I’ve been sickened by the actions of one conniving individual three months ago and I’ve lost some of my drive for hunting your infernal kind.” That was half of it right there, Flamesnort admitting to himself even as he said the words. He was disgusted with the prevailing mindset amongst his brethren in general. Some of them had become the enemy they swore to defeat.

Flamesnort lazily corrected his course back to his original heading of due west. “I have nought idea how anyone else feels but breaking the truce was unproductive. Also dishonorable.” His words dragged out into a half-whisper, an accusation he didn't want to make. He almost felt a need to apologize for the action of the Decepticon leadership but held back; he didn't yet owe the Autobot flier that respect.

“You hold the current positional advantage, why no missiles of your own?” Flamesnort queried.

[Skirmisher]

“The actions of the last three Mega-Cycles have been beyond disgraceful, and dishonorable,” Skirmisher said.

“The Truce wasn't something I entirely agreed with, but it served its purpose. It kept us from being hunted by in theory giving reason for both Camps to work alongside each other to combat a common enemy in the form of M.E.C.H., but what intended plan works in the Galaxy?” the Praxian said. He'd realized that without the Truce in place such moments -- such discussions of civility such as the one they were holding was largely going to be even more of a rarity in the face of hostilities. There were cycles he'd longed for where such civility had been far more commonplace, where Cybertronians weren't blasting each others chassis into so many spare parts.

Though his function had been that of an Enforcer in Early Cycles only to be turned into a Soldier, and a Field Medic in the current times, Skirmisher hadn't been one to use overly excessive force or to bash in another Mech or Femmes' helm in without Probable Cause or Provocation. His Old Partner Vault had proven that, and had instilled it into him with the cycles Skirmisher had spent with the Former Towerling turned Enforcer.

“You put it accurately. A show of Force would only result in paranoia,” he'd say, maintaining the same altitude. “Your own actions have proven admirable,”

There was something about the Decepticon flying at the lower altitude that struck the Praxian as the sort that was not only in complete disagreement with the ones behind the breaking of the Truce with the Bombing of Haven, but that the Flyer below had fallen into the category of those that valued honor or at least reason without the pretense of bureaucracy. Even though that thought had formed in his central core, Skirmisher hadn't been about to simply let the Decepticon go on his merry way or let his guard down. There had been some thing -- well, many things in their species one simply hadn't been able to dismiss such as their core programming. The reality of the Great War hadn't been one he'd been about to dismiss either, but in this little sector away from both Camps the two -- Autobot and Decepticon -- had been simply two Cybertronians attempting a civil conversation.

He'd altered the heading roughly around the same time the other Flyer had, but kept his distance out of respect.

[Deleted]

Flamesnort took Skirmisher’s words at face value, the other flier seemed peaceful enough and maybe that made the two of them the minority. He was still suspecting the Autobot might have a hidden wingman, perhaps undetected missile already in transit. But if the Autobots were going to trigger the trap why haven't they done so already?



“Working together to vanquish a common threat? That’s exactly the quest, what our whole half-clocked race should be pursuing!" Flamesnort spoke with vehemence, there was more feeling in his words than he intended to transmit. Their race had once explored the stars but had passed into and past stagnation even before Flamesnort was forged. He’d often though he was brought online several million years late.



“This M.E.C.H, I have yet to encounter this faction of squishies myself though I’ve read the reports. For millennia, I deemed the life on this planet to be little more than vermin, but mayhaps I was biased. How do you view them?” It was a question that had been twisting in the back of his mind, buried under larger thoughts but still begging for an answer. The Autobots had aimed for domination and enslavement but had sought to work with the humans, Flamesnort could not reconcile the disparity.

[Skirmisher]

    “I've encountered only a few of the Humans and while those few displayed both honesty and were curious about us, I cannot make a full judgment on the species. I've read about this species' History, and though they have only existed a fraction of the time ours has they have experienced much. Their own history is dotted with dark chapters involving Wars and Skirmishes waged against their own Kind, and others were more noble in nature to where ideals such as compassion ruled,” Skirmisher said. He'd only personally had a few encounters with Humans, but hadn't been about to disclose the names or even their occupation to the Decepticon. There had been quite a few things he'd keep to himself mostly for the safety of the Humans the Autobots interacted with.

    “I won't lie. There are things the Humans have done towards each other that would fill even the most depraved of our Kind with nightmares,” he'd say.

    “They seem to be learning or at least some are to overcome such depravity, but there are so many more on this planet that seem to turn a blind eye to it or are driven by avarice to where they seek to harm their own or find entertainment in it. M.E.C.H. is one of those such Agencies, a Military Group that decided to go rogue against their own Government. Their Actions while depraved do not speak for their Kind. I have not encountered M.E.C.H. either in their Agents or through their Attempts, but I have seen the footage of their Actions,” the Praxian explained. His scanners swept the vicinity, both the altitude above, below and surrounding for miles for any other Decepticon or M.E.C.H. Activity.

    “They would rather dissect, vivisect, and probe our Kind to gain some tactical advantage, through either technology or information. They have torn apart a few Cybertronians in the past. It is something that cannot happen again,” he said, maintaining his altitude. “Despite M.E.C.H.'s existence and their Actions, they do not speak for the Humans at large. Most are not even aware of our existence, and I doubt they would be able to comprehend that they are not alone,”

[Deleted]

Flamesnort chewed over the Autobot’s words for a few moments. “Our views of...humanity...is much the same then. In their billions, they cover the spectrum of mindsets. Most are content to scurry away their little lives, with only a few nests to stand as outliers”. Flamesnort sighed as he mulled over the issue of the squishies. “Though they are vermin, their numbers and ...inventiveness… demand some grudging respect. This planet is theirs, we don't belong here.” Flamesnort felt familiar in his little cave for a million years, even Blackridge felt familiar with the mix of stone age and Cybertronian technology. But was it home? No, not really, not ever. He missed Cybertron. He didn't know how fortunate he was to not see the end.

“As the squishies are capable of such depravity, how is it then that your Autobots choose to mingle with some? I would have thought that even the most noble of the vermin would be beneath the esteem of your leaders.” Flamesnort was still inclined to spit envenomed words when referencing the Autobot but even as held back, some small portion of his distaste would still be detectable. He wasn't inclined to start a verbal fight, and not with some Autobot flier who was likely just a soldier himself. He wanted no quarrel today but failed to completely hide his sentiments.

[Skirmisher]

“I'll agree with you that this planet isn't ours. We're guests here,” Skirmisher said.

“It could be that if we had someone watching over us that perhaps our lot would have turned out differently,” he'd say, maintaining his altitude. He had to admit, it was a rather nice day to fly. The sky was calm, with few clouds in the sky and the temperature hadn't been that bad either.

“I have to assume from that tone of yours that you don't hold humans in high regard. It matches the attitude of M.E.C.H. and those other humans that act out on their depravity,” the Enforcer said.

“One could say that in viewing the humans, that we view ourselves if you're into the more philosophical processor. We were them at one point in our history. I'm certain of that. We were aimless, incapable of making our own decisions, and largely ignorant of the Galaxy at large. We changed,” he'd continued.

“We became more knowledgeable of our corner of the Galaxy, and there are chapters in our history that we attempted to pass that knowledge to other species. That was before the War our two camps are currently waging began. On the other servo, perhaps we're the ones that are in need of help? We pound at each other with fists, pelt each other with blasters and missiles to torpedoes. I had a chance to look in the historical archives in one of my earlier cycles, more as a curiosity than out of direct need," the Enforcer explained. He'd kept his distance, while maintaining the altitude and monitored his scanners.

"I discovered many of our Ancestors had thinner armor, weren't built for combat or carried the seeds of it. That might be why as you put it that my commanders decided to work with some of the humans,” he'd said, glad that he was enjoying the conversation. He hoped the other mech had been enjoying it too.

“Our species has been alone too long. That isolation was decided on out of necessity, with first the Rust Plague followed by stagnation. I know there are species out there that hate us, but another reason we work with some of the humans may be that we don't want to be alone anymore,” the V-22 Osprey said.

He hadn't been that much of a poet, or thought of himself as one and he'd certainly never attempted it in his spare time back on Cybertron. Perhaps, he'd spent too much time listening to human broadcasts outside of their News and Police Procedural Dramas. He'd have to reduce the amount of superfluous human broadcasts he happened to listen to even if those broadcasts had been in the form of commercials during breaks in those same Police Procedural Dramas or the News. He certainly hadn't needed to know about what a strip of cloth covered in bleach could do to a car's headlight, or what new burger-fad was being sold at a Fast-Food Chain. The more he'd spent witnessing and hearing about the endeavors of the humans of the various nation states, it gave Skirmisher more reason to reconsider his initial assessment that he wouldn't have attempted to understand the human cultures or their idioms. He'd been an Enforcer on Praxus and though Earth had been a far cry from Cybertron, his Base Coding had demanded he protect the humans even if the humans hadn't been aware of their existence or rather hadn't wanted it.

“What brings a Decepticon out here? I am only curious. Are you stretching your wings and putting your thrusters through their paces?” he asked.

He believed there hadn't been any harm in asking a harmless question, though even in his own experience a harmless question could cause belligerency. He hadn't held anger or venom in his words unlike his Decepticon counterpart, and he'd been careful not to have allowed anything other than curious intent to be conveyed. He hadn't wanted the conversation to end, or for weapons to have been drawn.

[Deleted]

Despite his reasonable paranoia, Flamesnort was slowly warming up to the talkative Autobot. Clear skies, weather almost friendly by the standard of the planet, it was shaping up to be a nice day out Flamesnort found himself thinking.

“If I were to put full power to my thruster, I’d soon be out of your radio range.” Flamesnort joked. He wasn't a fast jet, but even he would outpace a tiltrotor with ease. “Stretching these wings however, well that’s close enough I guess.” Rare among fliers, he didn't tend to get claustrophobic but his fellow cons made a small space even smaller.

“I don't hold organic lifeforms in high regard as a rule. They are little more than genetic code replication machines. The imobile forms rely on weak solar energy to grow and do nothing else. The mobile forms utilise highly reactive oxidation chemistry for energy, that by its very nature slowly reacts and destroys their precious genetic code. Their lifespans are miniscule. They are a random self perpetuating chemical accident. They are simply beneath us. And yet…” Flamesnort paused as he searched his feelings about humanity, and tried to put aside his gut instinct. “I will never truly know. The sentience that has arisen in this humanity...has given them the ability to be more, more than mud.” Another long pause before Flamesnort continued, his tone warmer than it had been before but still serious.

“Our existence is so long, time itself has erased the first records. Some put cybertronian life at a billion years old. Over the eons we apparently traveled the stars, colonised far off worlds, built space bridges to cross light years in seconds and at the end, we were indeed beaten by rust. We turned inward, the strong got stronger and they made the weak weaker. The weak rose up, we had four million years of war, the galaxy hates us, the All spark is Primus knows where, Cybertron is abandoned. We should be better than the squishies by every metric but we fragged up. I will do whatever it takes to see Cybertron rebuilt with an egalitarian culture but could we keep it that way?” Flamesnort wasn't exactly sure where he was going with the discussion but he was certainly interested if the enemy soldier held to any ideals.