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"(EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises"
 
   Sunday, September 16, 2288
Cybertron

All Komilia Sterling really wanted to do right now was be by herself and get some more sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed as if those were the only things she couldn't do. At some point, probably on her way to or back from Optimus Prime's office in Iacon, she'd been seen, and now it seemed as if all the Wedge Defense Force refugees taking shelter on Cybertron knew she was among them.

The phone calls and the visitors came slowly at first and then in a sort of tidal flow, one after another or in small groups. Fighter pilots from other squadrons, a couple of transport crews who had been on runs elsewhere in the galaxy, Tactical Corps personnel who escaped first to Meizuri and then to Cybertron - she was the senior officer on-planet, apparently, and she was an Eight-Ball, and they all thought she might somehow know the answers to the two questions that every last one of them burned to ask someone:

What happened?

Why?

Komilia tried to answer them all, or at least impress on them all as diplomatically as possible that she didn't have their answers. What else could she do? They were her comrades, even if she didn't know most of them very well personally. There were a few of her acquaintances and passing friends from the service in the parade, and she was pleased and relieved to see that they were well, but with her emotional reserves already at such a low ebb, she soon found herself handling them mechanically - and wishing deep within her heart that they would just leave her alone. Just for a little while. Just for today.

It was early evening, though such distinctions carried little weight on sunless Cybertron, when the chime of her doorbell once more called for her attention just as she had begun to hope that no more would come and she could at last go back to sleep. For a few moments she considered just turning the thing off, setting total privacy mode on the door, and ignoring whoever was out there, but she knew she couldn't do that. It might be someone in real need of help. Or one of her sisters.

Feeling ten thousand years old, Komilia dragged herself from the couch, steeled herself as best she could for another needy face, and opened the door.

Optimus Prime - all of him, Zentraedi-tall and shining - was standing in the corridor.

"Oh!" she said, surprised. "Prime. Hi. Uh... something I can help you with?"

"Actually, I thought there might be something I could help you with," Prime replied. So saying, he transformed to vehicle mode, then swung open his driver's side door. "Care to go for a drive?"

Komilia hesitated for a moment - an Autobot as eminent and busy as Optimus Prime extended such offers very rarely, she was sure - then climbed aboard. As they pulled out and headed for a branching corridor that led out of the residential complex, Prime's virtual image appeared on the video screen in the middle of the dash.

"Bumblebee tells me you've had a busy day," he said. "He's been monitoring the traffic to your quarters, just to make sure everyone who visited you was legitimate. If you want, I can see about getting you some security to screen your visitors more directly."

Komilia shook her head. "No... thank you, Prime, but... well, even if I don't have anything to offer, and in most cases I don't, I still feel like it's my responsibility to... I don't know, to at least hear them out." She looked out the windows and saw that they were leaving Queltaadu City, moving up onto one of Cybertron's sweeping mega-expressways. Gleaming spires, canyons of chrome, plains of what looked like brushed aluminum stretched away in all directions under the star-splashed sky.

"Cybertron's just as beautiful as I remembered it," she said.

"We have a long way to go before she's restored to anything like the glory she had before the war with the Decepticons, but things are always improving," Prime said. "In large part thanks to our friends in the Wedge Defense Force. I want you to know that, after talking with Exedore and seeing the information he presented, I'm doubly sure my decision yesterday was the right one. Not that it will do much good in the grand scheme of things," he added regretfully. "I find myself in much the same position as Exedore. GENOM won't come after Cybertron again, but I can't move against them either. Not without triggering a galactic war."

Komilia sighed. "I figured that would be how it worked out. Damn, damn... I don't blame you, and I know Exedore was right about the prospects of the war, but... " She sat back, looking up at the ceiling of Prime's cab, and felt her eyes tearing up. "I just can't believe he's won."

"He hasn't won yet," Prime replied, his voice firm and determined. "If millions of years of war with Megatron, usually with my side at a distinct disadvantage, taught me anything, it's that the enemy's never won as long as you're still alive. And just because I can't move openly against GENOM doesn't mean I intend to just sit around and wait for Largo to rust, either." At his passenger's surprised look, Optimus Prime's virtual image gave her a knowing smile. "I was a resistance fighter for a very long time, Komilia," he said. "I know a thing or two about waging an underground campaign."

That thought sparked one of the few genuine smiles Komilia had been able to muster since all this started. "I won't ask you what you're planning," she said. "But if any of your operations need the help of any puny flesh creatures, count me in."

Prime chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind," he promised.

"By the way... where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," Prime said. "I just thought you'd like to be unreachable for a little while."

Komilia blinked. "Don't you have... you know, stuff to do? You're the Autobot supreme commander."

"Nothing that can't wait," Prime replied.

Komilia considered this for a moment, then noticed that there was a WDF-issue field survival pack, the type that was included in every WDF aerospace fighter and Destroid, sitting on the floor on the passenger side of the cab. She looked at it, then at Prime's image on the screen. He shrugged.

"I thought it might come in handy," he said.

Komilia gave the Autobot leader a grateful smile that said various things she had no words for, slid across the seat, opened the pack, and dug out a couple of the items within it.

Then, curled up on Optimus Prime's bench seat under a WDF survival blanket, her head resting on an inflatable camp pillow, she slept.

"Rest well, Komilia," Prime said quietly; then the video screen went black and he left his passenger to herself. If anyone wondered what Optimus Prime was doing, aimlessly cruising the skyways of Sonplex all that night, they kept their questions their own.


The next several days passed in a haze for the children of Max and Miria Sterling. At times, the hours seemed to drag on, stuck in the nowhere land between denial and shock. Other periods passed rapidly, when they found tasks with which to occupy their time. Therèse buried herself in giving the two Valkyries and the Shadow Legios an intensive overhaul and resupply in one of Iacon's repair bays. She had no idea when they'd have to leave Cybertron, nor what the availability of supplies would be like once they got off the planet, so best to get it all done now while she had a certified repair depot available to her. Maia and Miranda found themselves assisting their younger sister in the repairs, and shanghaied any Minicon, Autobot, or WDF refugee who was willing to help. In exchange, they also helped the few others who had escaped with their own mecha.

The second day in, Xeralia took a shuttle down to the surface and began to join in the multiple conferences among the Autobots and the Zentraedi commanders, serving as both advisor and record-keeper. She'd had herself micronized - fortunately, not a procedure that took very long - so that she could interact on a more even footing with her sisters.

Though she was adopted - she was orphaned as a small child when the Clan Fallyna crèche was destroyed in the Kravshera Uprising, and Miria, the clan's most famous daughter, had taken her in - and though her career had taken a different path than the others', Xeralia never felt apart from her adoptive siblings. She was of the Fallyna genetic line, so there was a blood relationship of sorts. Besides, she had never been made to feel different. That she now lived as a Meltran rather than among humans, as the others did, was her own choice, made at majority and with the support, but not the urging, of her adoptive family.

Thus, in this time of crisis, she naturally chose to walk among them rather than tower over them, and in between sessions, she did what she could to look after the others - though she noted with some regret that it didn't appear to help much in Mylene's case. The youngest Sterling was thoroughly miserable, and nothing her elder sisters did seemed to cheer her up. Emilia thanked her for her efforts, all the same, and found herself splitting time between Xeralia and Mylene, when she wasn't feeling out-of-sorts herself about being so radically displaced from the life she had come to know.

Komilia remained in the unenviable position of being one of the most noticeable of the Wedge Defense Force refugees. Her status as an Eight-Ball, and the connections she'd made among the various branches of the service over the decades, meant she often was the one most people thought of to try and get answers from - at first the general ones, and then, as people began to settle into the realities of the situation, more practical concerns. When found and confronted, she gave answers as clear and straightforward as she possibly could manage given the circumstances, but even she could see that it wasn't always helping as much as she might have hoped. Some of the former Wedge Defenders were still in denial, still in shock; some were now filled with grim, almost terrible purpose.

The most disquieting ones were the ones who were angry - not at GENOM or the United Galactica, but at the Wedge Defense Force itself. Komilia weathered the storms of frustration as best she could, and it was never quite as hard or as horrible as it had been that first day; but all the same she found herself collapsing, often in tears, into her bunk in Queltaadu City at the end of each day, worn out and spiritually frayed by the demands of the refugees on top of her constant sense of responsibility to her younger sisters. If it hadn't been for Optimus Prime taking a sort of 'surrogate uncle' role, somehow managing to be available when she needed somebody to listen to her, she might very well have broken down entirely.

And then, just when life had settled into a sort of horrible suspended routine, something new appeared in Cybertron's local space... something so unexpected that it changed everything.


Friday, September 21, 2288

"Pathfinder to Optimus Prime. I have the object in sight. Over."

"Roger, Pathfinder. I read you. How's it look?"

Pathfinder killed her main drive thrusters, coasted, and considered Prime's question for a moment before settling on,

"... Big."

It could be argued that everything was big to Pathfinder. She was a Minicon, one of the few who had joined the Autobot resistance back at the height of the Third Cybertronian War, so she was accustomed to being dwarfed by almost everything around her, including but not limited to her own comrades. Still, her small stature had its advantages. She didn't use much energon, for one thing, and in her alternate mode - a small, sleek, disc-shaped spacecraft clad in dark grey armor - she was nearly invisible in space. Stealth was much more important than firepower in the scouting business.

On the other hand, even by Autobot standards this was a sizeable object. Firing up her drives again, Pathfinder took a slow pass around it, relaying more detailed information to Prime as she did so. It was vaguely cylindrical and almost featureless apart from a single giant thruster nozzle at the back and a few yellow markings standing out against the dark green of its thermocoating. One marking was especially prominent, right up on the blunt snout of the object; a human, accustomed to the Standard language, would probably have taken it for a stylized letter V.

"Oh, I know what this is!" Pathfinder said after a moment. "I didn't recognize it at first because I haven't seen one in so long. It's a Zentraedi deep space probe. The kind they use to map out spacefold routes ahead of their fleets."

"Why would one of those come to Cybertron?" Prime wondered. "Can you get a close scan?"

"Sure, just a second." Pathfinder transformed to robot mode and drifted closer to the probe, stretching out her awareness toward it. Though lightly armed, her small frame was packed with sophisticated and powerful sensors. She could calculate a hyperspace pursuit trajectory, map an asteroid field, or count the carbon atoms in a comet. Now she turned all these powers of perception on the probe, searching for its purpose.

"I'm not detecting any high-energy phenomena or radiation. It doesn't seem to be carrying any weapons. Reflex signature is weak. It used up most of its power making the spacefold here. Must have come a long way - these things can jump most of the way across the galaxy. ... Hang on... I'm picking up a transmission. That's weird... it's on an old WDF frequency. Like, 'last used in the 2030s' old. Seems to be encrypted."

Back in the war room at Iacon, Bumblebee plied his console. "Patch through to my system here and relay the transmission, Pathfinder. I'll see if I can decrypt it."

"Roger that, 'Bee, relaying now." A moment later, strange symbols began marching across the master display at the front of the war room. Bumblebee started punching keys, his face set in concentration.

"I think it's a simple transposition scramble. Not a very long message, either; it keeps repeating." The yellow Autobot intel officer punched a few more keys, isolating one iteration of the code and removing the rest from the screen, then made some adjustments. "Re-sorting now."

Slowly the symbols on the master display changed, eventually becoming recognizable Zentraedi glyphs - but, to everyone's disappointment, what they said still didn't make any sense. At least, almost everyone's disappointment.

"Aha," said Exedore, folding his arms. "I recognize this code. It's Lord Breetai's personal cipher. The message must be from his fleet."

Prime turned to look at the Zentraedi archivist. "How did he know you'd be here?" he wondered.

Exedore smiled. "Breetai and I may no longer serve together, but we didn't survive as long as we have without making contingency plans," he said. "Allow me." Reaching to the console next to Prime's, he deciphered the displayed message, then translated it from the Zentranese for the Autobots' benefit:

" 'As Micron and Meltran led the way in the past, so shall their united blood open the door to the future.' "

There was a pause.

"... What does that mean?!" Overdrive wondered.

Optimus Prime pressed a key on his console. "Jetfire! Skyfire! Report with a salvage team to Pathfinder's position and recover that object immediately."


The Autobots set up the Zentraedi probe in a disused hangar at the Iacon spaceport. It was large even by Autobot standards, huge by human ones - roughly the size of a Corellian CR90-class starship. Almost all of its bulk was taken up by its Reflex core and fold drive, which by that scale were remarkably compact; the rest was a sublight drive, hyperspace motivator, databanks, and a powerful sensor array. The probe was designed to travel along a programmed hyperspace course like a superluminal missile, drop into real space near the spot to which the fleet wanted to spacefold, perform a series of scans to compile the detailed navigational data required, then fold back to the fleet and report its findings.

Around the nose of the probe, the Autobots had erected a scaffold designed to provide a "porch" of sorts, aligned with the maintenance hatch on the front of the unit. A preliminary examination by a team of Minicon technicians revealed that a biometric identity lock had been cleverly installed in place of the ordinary coded unit that secured these panels on regular probes. That and the probe's heavy armor left no doubt that someone didn't want unauthorized personnel getting access to whatever was inside.

Komilia Sterling stood looking at it for a moment, lost in thought. Then she put her hand against the lock's scanner plate. She felt a momentary heat as the scanner vaporized a few skin cells and analyzed the DNA within; then the lock's red status light turned green and the hatch hissed, slid forward a few inches, and rose out of the way.

Inside, instead of the usual tangle of databanks and sensor equipment, there was a small room, just about the size of an average hotel bedroom, containing a relatively small computer and a holographic projector. Komilia went to the computer and pressed a key. Behind her, the hatch hummed down and closed again, leaving the room illuminated by a couple of dull glowstrips in the ceiling, and then the holoprojector sprang to life.

"Hello, Komilia," said a smiling, life-size image of Maximilian Sterling. "I apologize for the strange way of making contact, and for keeping you waiting - I imagine it hasn't been an easy couple of weeks. Things got a little hectic there at the end. I tried to tell Miranda where we were going, but I'm not sure the signal got through. Hope we didn't worry you too much.

"Your mother and I are with Breetai's fleet. We're fine, but I can't tell you what we're up to. Even with the security measures I've managed to kludge into this probe, it's not safe. All I can tell you is that it's important, and that we're going to be gone a long time. A long time. Breetai figures we won't be back for at least 70 years - maybe 80, maybe even more."

Komilia sat down involuntarily, thumping awkwardly to the floor with knees together and feet splayed to either side, and stared at her father's image in utter shock. He smiled gently, as if he'd known when he recorded the message how she would react.

"Sorry to just dump it on you like that, but there's really no way to make it any softer. We're in this for the long haul, and you kids are going to have to get by without us for a while. I wish we could be with you - especially in these next few years, which I suspect are going to be hard and dangerous ones - but it seems like these aren't times for people to... to get what they wish for."

For a second, he looked like he might almost choke up himself; then he got hold of himself, put his cool, collected game face back on, and grinned. "I've got a lot more I could say, but our time is limited and your mother's got a lot she wants to get out, so I'll turn it over to her now."

Becoming completely serious, he added, "Just one thing more before I do, though: be careful. I don't think our enemies will stop at breaking up the command staff and destroying the Wayward Son. Keep your heads down and watch out for each other. It's going to take work and time - maybe generations - to undo the harm that was done that day. Do what you can, but don't get yourselves killed trying to turn this thing around overnight. I love you all very much, and I want to see you all when we get back from this trip."

Then, grinning his trademark self-deprecating grin, he said, "Okay, enough lectures from Dad. Here's your mom. She has something to say to each of you."

Komilia was glad she'd come alone, and gladder that the hatch had closed behind her. It meant that no one got to see her finally and completely break down, the last of her defenses swept away by the combination of relief that her parents were alive, horror at how long they would be gone, and reaction to the poignant messages of love and farewell they had sent across all that space in the belly of this Zentraedi probe.

In a way, the breakdown seemed to give her new strength once it had passed. She emerged a short time later, red-eyed but composed, to find her sisters gathered on the scaffolding, looking curiously at the hatch.

"It's a message," she said. "For us. Come inside."


The seven of them were a reasonably tight fit in the small room, but none seemed to mind. They all stood in silence while Komilia keyed the computer and played the message over again. There were expressions of joy and relief to see Max alive and well, then of shock and dismay when he told them how long he and Miria expected to be gone. All were silent again, subdued and most of them teary-eyed, as Max concluded his message and stepped out of the pickup so Miria could replace him.

"Komilia," Miria said, "as you are the eldest, I will begin with you. No doubt this has been your fate many times over the last few days," she added with an ironic smile. "I am sorry for the burden you have had to shoulder. You deserve to be free of care, as you have always been, but the situation is grave... and it is always the fate of the squadron's senior members to look after the younger ones."

Komilia's sisters all shot her guilty little glances at this, remembering all the times over the past few days that they'd leaned much more on her than she had on them. She caught them at it and smiled to show that she didn't mind.

"Of all our seven daughters, I fear you must be the most careful," Miria went on. "You were not only a Wedge Defender, but a member of Eight-Ball Squadron. You flew with us, with Benjamin and the others. Your profile was highest, and if what Maximilian and I fear is happening to the galaxy right now, the WDF's enemies will seek you most relentlessly of all."

Since she was a pre-recorded hologram, Miria couldn't see any of them, of course; but nonetheless she turned slightly and almost looked right at Maia as she went on, "Maia. Miranda."

"Yes'm," Miranda replied automatically, then grinned sheepishly.

"Do not let the fact that you were part of an elite Shadow squadron make you overconfident," Miria said. "You no longer have the Great Lidless Eye to keep watch on all your enemies, and there are much darker things in the shadows of the galaxy than the Black Riders, as you well know."

She paused, looking thoughtful, and for a second the twins thought that was all she was going to say; then she smiled very slightly, rather sadly, and went on,

"You may wish none of this had happened. So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, my daughters, besides the will of evil."

Miranda blinked, wide-eyed, leaned closer to Maia, and murmured in her ear, "Did Mom just quote Gandalf?"

"I think she did," Maia whispered.

"Huh. I didn't know she'd ever actually read the book."

Miria waited a moment for what she'd said to sink in, then turned a little more and said, "Xeralia. You did not think I'd forget you, did you? You are as much my daughter as all the others. You may not have been born of my body, but you are of my blood. Remember that even the smallest act may have enormous consequences. Be patient. Time is on your side. I know you hunger for revenge - in older times, the Zentraedi would not have let such an insult pass without bloodshed - but the galaxy is different now. We are different now. We must be. A time will come for reckoning, of that you may be sure. Follow your superiors' lead and bide your time. It will make the eventual day of judgment all the sweeter."

Miria smiled a slightly predatory smile at this, looking much more the warrior she had been centuries before; then her expression softened again, becoming more maternal, as she turned to address the next of her children.

"Therèse, your father and I are very proud of the way you handled yourself over Musashi. Oh yes, even amid all the chaos and horror, we noticed. How could we not? You acquitted yourself very well. Though I know that battle has never been your first choice, I fear you will have more need of the skills you showed before all is said and done. Keep your edge sharp and look to your more experienced sisters for guidance - but never turn your back on your own dreams. There will come a time when you can put down your sword and pick up your spanner for good once more, I promise you.

"Emilia... I am so sorry I won't have the chance to watch you have the career you chose. I had doubts about the suitability of the Armored Corps for one of my daughters when you first chose it, that is true, but you loved it so much I came to anticipate your debut almost as much as you did. It will be difficult, but try not to lose hope. You are very young - too young to truly understand how long your life will be if you are careful. It may seem to you right now as if everything is ended, but I assure you, it is only beginning. You have the skill and talent to take you far in life. Your father and I both believe this implicitly."

Miria hesitated, her expression hard to read, as she gathered her thoughts for the next address. Knowing what was coming, Komilia quietly moved to the other side of the gathering, ready to support her youngest sister should she need it.

Miria spoke once more, clearing her throat to try and keep her emotions in check.

"My dearest Mylene. In many ways, this will be the hardest for you. Unlike your older sisters, you are not a soldier. You have not been trained for the horrors of war, nor needed to endure the dark times they bring with them. And truly these are dark times you all face... darker than the void between the galaxy's spiral arms."

She swallowed, brushing her free hand against her cheek. Her emerald eyes glistened; she blinked them clear. Mylene wrapped her arms around herself, her own eyes wet, and watched her mother's image continue to speak.

"But... do not let the darkness you face darken your own heart, my daughter. Now, more than ever, be a light in the darkness. You have a great gift, Mylene, greater than any ten warriors' force of arms. Nurture it. Encourage it. Let it flourish, and bring light to the galaxy when it most sorely needs it. You have the strength of the Sterlings and of the Meltrandi within you. I know you can do this."

Mylene nodded jerkily, holding Guvava even tighter. The empathic rodent gave no protest at being squeezed. Behind her, Komilia rested her hands on her youngest sister's shoulders.

"I only regret..." Miria faltered, almost unable to go on, but she tapped an inner reserve and pressed onward. "... I only regret that I will not get to see you grow up into the beautiful woman you most certainly will be. I know you will do me proud, Mylene. And always remember... I love you."

At this, Miria's image reached out, as if by will alone she could breach the gulfs of space and time, and touch her children one last time. Mylene took a step forward, out from under Komilia's grasp, and reached forward with her own hand, causing a fizz of static where she intersected the holographic image, her own eyes brimming with tears.

"I will, Mama... I will," she whispered. "I love you..."

Miria pulled herself together, straightening, and looked from one end of the gathering to the other again - so familiar with her children's mannerisms that she had more or less correctly guessed how they would be standing.

"Maximilian has already told you to be careful; I will not belabor the point. For myself, I have only one more piece of advice to offer you all. If you go out to fight the monsters in the galaxy - and I suspect you will - always be conscious of who you are and why you do what you do. Remember the ideals of the Wedge Defense Force, ideals for which many people have died in the last few weeks - died at the hands of those who sneer at our values and wish to see them snuffed out everywhere in the galaxy. Remember that, unlike our enemies, we do not fight because we hate, nor because we wish to control. We do not kill for killing's own sake, as the Zentraedi did of old.

"We fight because we love - love life, love freedom, love decency. We kill so that others may live, free from oppression, terror, and pain. We may want - we may deserve - vengeance for what has been done to us, but we must not take it at the expense of the innocent. If we do, we are no better than the monsters we fight. Always remember that.

"And always remember, too, that I love you, all of you, with all my heart."

"As do I," Max added, squeezing into the image, his arm around her waist. "We'll see you all again. Until then, remember - stay alive."

Miria turned to her husband and seemed about to say something, but just as her lips parted, the hologram flickered and disappeared.

The seven sisters stood and looked at the place where their parents' images had been for few long, silent moments.

Then, in a wry but gentle tone, Maia said quietly, "Well... I guess we've got our orders."

"Promises" (Part 3 of Patience, an Exile Mini-Story Serial) by Benjamin D. Hutchins and Philip J. Moyer
Patience plotted by Philip J. Moyer
Special to the Eyrie Productions Discussion Forum
© 2007 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited


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(EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises [View All] Gryphonadmin Mar-28-07 TOP
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises BZArchermoderator Mar-28-07 1
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises MuninsFire Mar-28-07 2
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises O_M Mar-29-07 3
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises Norgarth Mar-29-07 4
      RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises Gryphonadmin Mar-29-07 6
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises asuffield Mar-29-07 5
   RE: (EXILE) Patience 3 of 5: Promises Matrix Dragon Mar-29-07 7


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