Ep1.5 - Sizing Up - Closed

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<<OOC: Set after 'Permission to Land' and 'A Friendly Raid'>>

The introduction of an Insecticon into the ranks had caused a stir, with similar concerns, rumours and remarks to those that Starscream had made running rife about the ship. Kickback hadn't risen to any baiting, though, nor chewed off the legs of a screaming Eradicon as half the crew had apparently been expecting. Megatron had little doubt that Kickback could resort to such corridor barbarism, and took quiet satisfaction in the fact that his newly awakened servant was using his time to get acquainted with the Nemesis, its operations and the salient points of the dominant lifeform they cruised over.

This period of adjustment was prudent for Kickback, having spent many centuries in stasis, but also for the command team. Eyes and ears of the Decepticons, Soundwave had given the new arrival particular attention in his background monitoring. Megatron had gleaned the tone and recurring points of the grape vine from Fairwinds, and now seven Earth days later, the commander was finally inclined to allow the mech off-ship.

Though not unaccompanied, and not without purpose.

Shiftlock's loquacious landing had been a disaster beyond the failure to intercept the Wrecker or any Autobot who arrived on the scene. A Seeker, Aquila, had been terminated, and whilst he was still determining how allegiances may have shifted in his absence, Megatron had elected to investigate the site himself.

And what better time to acquaint himself properly with Kickback's abilities? If the Insecticon possessed the ability to identify and pursue a 'scent', then he wanted to know about it. With this in mind, he comm.ed a summons to Kickback to meet him on the main landing deck atop the Nemesis.

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Kickback reacted quickly to the summons. He arrived atop the Nemesis soon after, at a pace that indicated he hurried but did not scramble in a helter-skelter full run; it was a comfortable middle ground that indicated quickness to serve, but not undignified, slavish toad-eating.

Making his way along the back of the Nemesis from the access hatch to the landing deck, Kickback stopped several bodylengths from Megatron and dropped to his knees. Placing his hands in front of him, bowing so low as to touch his helm to the deck of the ship, he kow-towed to Decepticon commander as if he were a Chinese peasant before the August Personage of the Emperor himself.

"Your slave is honored by the privilege of your presence. Command your slave as you see fit."

It was a gesture as old as memory for Kickback, continuing the rituals that had been beaten into him over the long march of time. His kind were lower than even disposables, and few Cybertronians had the inclination to accept anything other than complete, compliant submission from their livestock.

The Insecticon waited for Megatron to command him or bid him to rise or speak further, the black fog of his alien waveform silently inscrutable.

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The Decepticon warlord crossed the excessive distance - more indicative of fear than respect - in several long, resounding strides. His large pedes were heavy on the outer hull plating of the Nemesis, and he noted that the Insecticon did not so much as twitch at the sound of his approach. When the former-gladiator's massive field crashed against the textured plating, he felt a reaction.

"You kneel to me as a Decepticon, Kickback," Megatron stated, his voice taking on the pitch of correction. There was no irritation in the tone, but some undefinable, charismatic sub-harmonic that had been present in his rallies in Kaon, Tarn, and the rest. "You are no slave. Now rise: There is work to be done."

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And what was not to fear?

Say whatever he wished, Megatron was still ultimately the arbiter of his freedom and his fate. Could he chose to leave and stay alive? Never. Could he decide his place in the organization? Suicidal. No, for all the oratory that Megatron may give, Kickback was well aware that he was still a slave in many important ways; he had simply changed masters once more - the sole difference being that this time he had willfully decided who may hold the end of his leash.

There was no shame in it. Unlike certain individuals who coveted the position of leadership, Kickback had no aspirations for the throne. No, he was fairly joyous over his position as lowest of the low; he knew where he stood, its limitations, and what would be expected of him.

But there was the little problem that Kickback did not know, precisely, the mind behind the hand holding his leash. Kickback had preferred to remain in the shadows, wisely avoiding danger until he was ready to make a fast, clean kill. Being drug into the light of the commander of commanders was an anxious experience, but an opportunity to size up exactly who Megatron was, and exactly what he wanted. If he could manage to navigate the next breem or so correctly, he would be able to see through Megatron's ideological eyes. Once he knew what his master's goals and modus operandi were, he could immerse himself into the Decepticon "hive", moving as an extension of Megatron - his new hive's self-aware-that-controls.

He could feel the extension of Megatron's waveform and the spark-gripping under-frequency that permeated every phonem that passed from his vocoder. Quite a gift this towering emperor possessed; it no doubt served him well. At field contact his own retreated reflexively, completely internalized beneath his mesh. For an Insecticon, this was respectful obeisance; it was a willfull submission to being controlled by the hive's ruling self-aware. He was uncertain of how a non-Insecticon would take it.

Kickback rose to his feet.

The matte black mech could meet Megatron nearly eye to eye; he did so but did not attempt a lingering stare. He would not flinch as a coward nor would he turn away as if he had something to hide. "As you command, Master," he replied, adding strangely and sharply accented glyphs of respect to a dignitary of highest order in high-caste Polyhexian, followed by hieroglyphics of a completely unknown tongue and dialect.

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Megatron overlooked the strange embellishments, both the utterly foreign and the familiar High accents that Ratbat still occasioned to use. Neither were useful nor required. So long as there was obedience, there was no need for grovelling. It would, the warlord could tell, take some time for Kickback to shed that feeling of necessity. Megatron did not need his mecha to cower to make him feel powerful. Starscream cowered to make himself too pitiful a target for the full extent of his wrath, and a non-threatening borderline traitor. The Seeker was an unusual case, and his was not behaviour he wished for the Insecticon to have the opportunity to imprint on.

Hence this outing, just the two of them. For mutual assessment, if the former gladiator was reading the unusually lensed optics right

“Come.” The directive was flat and hard, Megatron’s gaze lingering for a klik before he charged forward towards the spiked protrusions of the warship, gaining momentum in long, thunderous strides, before leaping into a transformation and taking off in a sharp, scorching arc.

At the apex of his climb, the Cybertronian jet turned in a no-nonsense dive past the starboard side of the Nemesis towards the planet surface, leaving the Insection to follow.

He trusted that Kickback would keep up, or be able to follow without complaint if he did not.

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Come.

The word had been slapped against his audioceptors with its short, sharp intensity - teeth to the neck from the alpha male, a reminder of his status and position. From the very sound of that word and the glare that followed, Kickback assessed Megatron as one who would tolerate no foolery.

A hard master indeed. But was he a fair one? That remained to be seen.

As Megatron's pede-falls thundered over the hull of the Nemesis, great athletic strides that ate up the distance between his former position and the open sky surrounding, Kickback decided to close the gap in his own inimitable fashion: Transforming down into a Cybertronian Swarmer-Locust, he gathered his rear legs beneath him, and sprung up and off the ship entirely, covering half a kilometer in a single bound.

Airborne now, Kickback spread the reticulated black and yellow cape of his wings, fluttering them sharply for a few moments, before aligning his body into an arrow-like shape. Within seconds the locust was now the mimic of a Seeker-like jet, the thick portions of his rear legs turning into jet boosters and powering him swiftly and nimbly through the air. He closed the distance to Megatron quickly and followed his commander's flight path seamlessly.

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Kickback came to fly just behind and slightly to the side of the warlord - not so close as to be a hindrance, nor so far away that they were out of formation. Megatron could imagine a swarm of Insecticons separated in the same way, their formation close but angled so that they could react and maneuver as one. He maintained a steady course, their destination a fair distance away, though not so far as to justify altering the Nemesis' course.

"I trust that you are settling amongst the crew?"

Megatron's tone over the short-range comm. line was more a declarative than an inquiry, but the accompanying glyphs were those of query and interest. He wanted to know how the Insecticon had been faring outside of stasis and of a hive. So far, he only knew that Kickback had been asking questions and assessing the terrain in a cautious, meticulous manner.

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"Yes, Master. I must know everything about my new hive and all of its members, so that I may understand my place. When I understand my place perfectly, I will function within the Decepticon hive at peak efficiency," Kickback replied over the comm, his messages tagged with more unreadable glyphs.

"You are my Self-Aware-That-Controls," he explained. "Your language has no word for That One that is master, parent, mind and will of the Hive. Master, because I cannot feel your mind-will in me, I must ask you who you are, what you want, what is your will. If you share these things with me, I will become an extension of you, as if I were your own servos."

He continued to fly in formation with Megatron, waiting to see exactly where they would be landing.

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Though the terminology that Kickback used was foreign, the concept he expressed was not so alien to the Decepticon Commander. Present from before the cause had a name, Soundwave had an intuitive understanding of Megatron's motivations, and thus the mechanics of his mind. Similarly, Barricade had been referred to as his shadow-hand by the Autobots, operating without direct order to implement vicious means to achieve Megatron's less overt goals. Then of course there was Fairwinds, though the cassette was a rather unique extension of his will...

They were exceptional amongst the Decepticons, with the vast majority of his army operating on distilled orders filtered down through sub commanders at various outposts. The Nemesis itself functioned through departments, with his orders disseminated through the officers down to the Eradicon squads. His officers were trusted, loyal to the cause.

"Every Decepticon has earned their place with the strength of their abilities - physical and psychological. The war has been long, and you have missed much." Unspoken, though unmissable, was the implication that Kickback was going to be at the bottom of the heap for some time.

The Cybertronian jet had settled at a comfortable cruising speed, sensors combing the landscape blurring past beneath them for signs of Autobot activity since the crash. Returning his attention to their destination, Megatron added: "As for my will, acquaint yourself with the Nemesis archives. Everything you need know about my will is there. Soundwave has kept meticulous records."

The cliff face where Aquila's frame had shattered and spark extinguished was coming into view, scorch marks etched across the stone in long, dark smears. Megatron descended, Kickback following. "As for my current will - it is to determine what skills you bring to my army by examining this scene.

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It was disappointingly apparent to the Insecticon that his current master was going to be as uninformed as all the others. Kickback continued on behind Megatron, listening to him, chewing on what he had to say in return.

Kickback had laid himself utterly bare, or so he had believed - complete and total submission, a willing and fervent zealot who would act with such unshakable loyalty and complete drive that he would topple empires, slay his own kin and destroy worlds for Megatron without second thoughts or hesitation. Such was a function of a normal hive; you were a part of a super-organism that was connected on a fundamental level beyond mere cohort or bonding.

That connection did not exist here.

Therefore, this was no hive.

The open, pliable and subservient part of Kickback that sought to find its connection in the Decepticon "hive" turned adamant and introvert in that realization like a hand withdrawn from a sudden scalding touch. A subtle psychological and physiological change clicked into place at the moment he realized his isolation from the rest of the Insecticon hives. Freed from that restraining influence, Nature now demanded he take his place as Seeder, not Drone. His senses sharpened. His hunger intensified.

Being low among the ranks suited him just fine; his waves intensified with warm aura of pleased-happy-contented after Megatron finished speaking.

"Do you require mechaforensics, material analysis, energy analysis or disposal? Leaving remains to be accidentally discovered by the native population would inadvisable unless it is intentional," Kickback stated in polite erudition.

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"Anything useful that can be derived from the site," Megatron replied, angling one wing down to veer towards the scorch mark at a steep angle. He transformed at the last moment, one hand reaching out to grasp the eroded rock as the long, solid points of his pedes slammed and sunk in to secure his position.

It was a short climb up to the impact site, and the warlord pulled a scorched piece of metal that had been wedged in a natural crevice. A quick scan highlighted that the residual energy from the blast was native to Aquila, confirming the Eradicon's sketchy reports that the Autobot had managed to turn his missile back on himself. The ammunition could not have been hacked and redirected mid-flight at such a short range.

A brutish move, then. Good. Those fighters were satisfyingly straightforward to deal with.

Tipping away from the damaged cliff face, Megatron scanned a critical optic over the area. From this vantage point, he could see that Aquila had not seen the tank-alt Autobot that had come into play over the far rise. He had not been distracted by another, more dangerous opponent on the field.

The warlord found Kickback in the air once again, optics narrowed with thought. "There is a Neutral scavenger planetside who is likely to have claimed the remains if the Autobots did not. If there happens to be anything of use as reclamation then it will be returned to Knock Out on the Nemesis."

Tucking the shard of what he suspected was a Seeker wing into his subspace, Megatron released his hold on the cliff and dropped to the ground, legs bent to absorb the force of his landing. "Energy analysis, Kickback," he ordered, moving towards where the first round of shells had landed. "The Eradicons were savaged to an unusual degree."

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Kickback unfolded from jet mode, flapping his wings swiftly for a few seconds before coming to a landing on the canyon floor, still in insect mode. Snapping his wings down along the length of his abdomen, his antennae wobbled back and forth, sensing, sniffing, tasting, hearing . . .

"As for the Neutrals," Kickback asked, "Allies or enemies?"

He left that question to hang in the air before getting back to the business of carrying out orders. The canyon was flecked with delicious fragments of energon within the walls. His body was crying out for fuel in a loud, insistent way.

He sprung up and latched himself onto the canyon wall. The guard plate labellum of his mouth opened, revealing millions of micro disassemblers. He plunged his head into the wall, and it seemed to melt before him.

Moving with hideously quick speed Kickback pushed himself into the rock, kicking out bits of debris and rubble like a spider wasp digging in sand. Soon the locust had vanished completely into the wall, the only sign of his movement being more rock and dust flicked out of the hole in pulses.

Soon they stopped.

A large chunk of raw energon ore was flicked out of the wall, landing with a soft thud in the sand below.

Kickback rapidly gorged on several hundred pounds of energon ore, downing it in few nanokliks, before calling out of the rock to Megatron, "There's a plentiful pocket of energon in the wall, and many more small deposits within the surrounding hic. As for the Eradicons, well, looks like high caliber rounds, probably from a tank or artillery. I'm sure you could have guessed that yourself, however; you have seen many battles."

Sweet relief! Energon at last, and in its delicious, crunchy raw form, the kind he preferred most. Now for some metals - all part of a complete Insecticon breakfast.

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Megatron smirked at Kickback's query regarding the Neutrals, flexing his talons. Given recent events, allies would seem to be the case. However the warlord was not so myopic as to think that any Neutral, including Cleaver, put their own welfare first and foremost, with no regard to faction. Selfish cowards who could be bought with goods and bent with fear.

They had much to fear from the Decepticons, and little from the Autobots. That made them an extension of his arsenal, though one that required careful and considered handling.

"The status of the Neutrals depends entirely on context." Megatron moved away from the escarpment, and Kickback's meal, to inspect the shed shell casings. Massive and numerous. Little wonder there had been so little salvage.

"My interest is not in this sector's energon vein, but that which resides in the lines of those who slayed Aquila." The Decepticon commander knelt, drawing his talons through the torn earth and shattered parts. Autobot and Decepticon. "Can you track a mecha through... alternate means than Cybertronians? The Autobots can mask their comm.s and energy signatures. I hope that they have not thought to shield themselves from anything an Insecticon might detect."

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Kickback turned around in the newly made cave and poked his head out, looking at Megatron.

"Oh I can do that. Every Cybertronian has traces of CNA in their energon flow. It's comparable to... a scent. A taste. Once I've sampled someone's energon, I could track them across the face of the planet. Hiding inside structures, in caves, in dense flora, disguised as a native vehicle - it would not matter. Their energon scent would give them away."

He crawled from the borehole, lept off the cliff wall and transformed, landing with a soft *chuff* of pedes in sand, a plume of dust swirling around his legs. Approaching Megatron and the remains of the eradicons, his antenna twitched. "Maybe... I can find some spilled energon in the wreckage. With this much scrap scattered around, there's bound to be something to pick up."