What Lies Hidden

Planet Sochorus

Falon State

The sealing fans whirled above as Smokewagon enjoyed a swig of energon ale.  It was good for the spark he reminded himself.  Besides, what better thing to do than to steal a moment of relaxation from the Transformers’ overarching, unchangeable conflict?  “Primus save the Prime,” yelled a fellow drunken mech toward the back of the bar who then keeled over spilling his own device of inebriation….  Sure faces, and leaders changed, but the situation never did.  One bot would crave power, and try to sieze it.  Others would try to stop said bot, or join him.  Smokewagon was tired of it.  At least here in this “dive” he could soak up local thought, and not have to worry about shooting something, stealing something, or getting shot himself.

Yes, there was nothing better than to grab your new favorite bar stool, and grind some gears while tossing a cool one back.  The bar tender cocked an eyebrow at his cigarette.

“It’s a new alien custom,” Smokewagon replied to the perplexed look.

“Right,” came the bartender’s uncomprehending reply.  “And would you try anything under the insignia of an ‘alien custom’?”  This was said jokingly as just about anything went in this galactic backwater.  He looked down, and started polishing some of his sturdier glassware.

Smokewagon in turn looked into his beverage.  “Na, not anything.  Just those things that tick off nosey bartenders.”

There was some commotion at the door that caused a stir.  A flash of gold and purple sparkled in the concealing dimness that filtered through the light of the bar as a Decepticon darted in, and handed something back to the bouncer.  “Here’s my entrance fee.  Keep the change.”

Carjack came toward the bar, nudged aside another patron, and sat scanning the area.  He stared at Smokewagon, seeming rather proud of himself.  “I think the bouncer is rather happy to get his arm back.  He wasn’t going to let me in until I gave proper payment.  I guess the price was right.”

“You shouldn’t rough up the local bar employees Carjack.  That’s a rule even for Decepticons,” replied Smokewagon rebukingly.

“It’s more of a guidline, really.  Besides, the bouncer should have realized that I have urgent business to attend to.”  Carjack snickered at his own comment, then focused intently on Smokewagon.  “WE have business to attend to.”

“In my mind, there is no business to ‘attend to’.  I’ve chosen my own path.  Case closed.” said Smokewagon decisively.  He was also wondering how Carjack found him.  He had been careful to lie low, but evidently, not careful enough.

“Ah, but you know what I refer to Smokey… Unfinished business.  A duty to perform.  The primal kind that cannot be written off.  The kind that answers the ultimate questions….  Why was I created?… Why am I here?”  This was said in a mocking tone that Smokewagon didn’t like.  The gleam that Carjack had in his eye was goading him.

Smokewagon hesitated, “It is not time for that yet.  There are still events that need to be put into place.”

Carjack continued to mock as he waved his finger at Smokewagon’s face, “Tsk, tsk, tsk.  You were always a hesitant soldier, ‘Autobot’.  You know we don’t have the luxury of choice.  A command is given.  A command is obeyed.”

“Some commands are better off left in the dust,” replied Smokewagon.

“You are acting like you have a choice in this matter.  That could be very unhealthy, you know.  You should reconsider if you wish to continue sucking… whatever that is you’re drinking.  She will be very unhappy when she hears of your lack of compliance.

In a hushed voice, Smokewagon leaned forward toward Carjack.  “Now that’s the kicker. Now isn’t it?  She can’t do a thing to me, and to be honest, I don’t understand your devotion.  Why not let her just slip beyond the inkling of a myth, and be forgotten?”

Anger seemed to crackle through Carjack’s energon helmet.  “Your blasphemy will undo you one day Smokewagon.  If I must do this alone, then your treachery will be repaid one hundred fold.  This temporary “goodness” that you have found is merely an island that you will sink to oblivion on.  You are an ant on a leaf about to sink beneath the waves.  I pity your ignorance.  Last chance. Come with me.”

With a gesture of his hands Smokewagon pushed his simple reply, “No.”

Carjack seemed to sear for a moment, then said in a sinister tone, “then sealed your fate is.”  Then just as dramatically he excused himself from his respective bar stool, and departed for the door.  His appearance had made Smokewagon more uncomfortable than he would have liked to have admitted.  What was the truth?  Whatever it was, he had chosen his own path, death or not.  This provided him with a spikey sense of warmth, but then there was an unspoken coldness nagging at the edges…  Dare he have doubted?  Dare he not comply?