Visions of Darkness: Generation Gap

A Transformers Fanfiction

By Triceratron

The first wave hit hard. Five Decepticons descended from the ship that darkened the sky. Five warriors were not much, but they were each nearly three times the size of the Maximals and Predacons that stood on the battlefield below them. The Maximals and Predacons focused their firepower on one, hoping to overwhelm him, but to no avail. The weapons barely even made a dent. Megatron showed a moment of weakness and tried to flee, transforming and flying away. Fear wasn’t something Megatron had showed much of, but at the moment he was justified in his response. A shot from a stun weapon knocked him from the sky. His dragon form plummeted to the ground.

Triceratron gasped as he awoke suddenly disoriented. He thought for a moment that he was dreaming…but it wasn't a dream. He knew it had been real. He looked around and saw he was in a Decepticon brig. A force field kept him from escaping. Something else he noticed…

He was still in his Decepticon form, but knowing he was in a brig made for a full sized Decepticon warrior, he realized he had been reverted to his old Decepticon size. Whoever had done this apparently didn’t know about his powers. He prepared to charge his shield, but he only felt pain. He doubled over. So they did know about his powers, and had a way to neutralize them…painfully. So, Jhiaxus didn’t cover his mistakes like Triceratron thought he did. That meant they probably knew about him all along. So why did they show up now, only after his temporal homing device had activated, he wondered? If the device was meant to bring him back to the Empire, as it seemed to be, why had it been so long before anyone had turned it on? He had suspected that the empire had not been destroyed, and was certain now that this ship had appeared. The facilities required to track his signal didn’t exist in this timeframe. Something didn’t make sense.

Not that it mattered. Two guards and another Decepticon appeared at the door to his cell. "You—come with us. The captain wants to speak with you," said the Decepticon. He deactivated the force field. Triceratron made the split decision to attempt an escape, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. He threw a guard against the wall and punched the other one across the hall. The other Decepticon didn’t try to stop him. He got a short distance away when the Decepticon activated a device, and caused Triceratron to fall to his knees in pain. The guards grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.

"Now, if you will cooperate with us, the captain has much to discuss with you," said the Decepticon. "Take him."

* * * * *

Optimus Primal re-examined the situation, as he had been doing for the past mega-cycle. His troops all had been captured within moments of the initial assault and were placed into a large cell. Of course, the cell was one designed for a full-sized Cybertronian, and so there was enough space for the seven Maximals. Regardless, Rattrap was showing signs of claustrophobia, partially induced from his the lack of weapons. They had been disarmed when they were brought on board, and devices that had been implanted onto their main command units disabled the weapons that couldn’t be removed. Across the corridor were, ironically, Megatron’s troops. Optimus observed them with curiosity as a few skulked about, cursing at each other, trying to battle, or taunting the Maximals to come and fight. Initially Cheetor had returned the taunting, but now he took to ignoring them completely as his spirits sank. Absent was Megatron for reasons unknown. Optimus was wagering that it had something to do with the fact that he was carrying two sparks, one of which was a general that defeated Jhiaxus three centuries ago. The other cell caught his interest as a scuffle between the Dinobot clone and Rampage took a strange turn when Dinobot exposed his spark and crushed it, and Rampage reacted as if his spark had been damaged. His line of thought was interrupted by a question Cheetor posed.

"What do you think they’ll do to us Big Bot?" the young Maximal asked.

"I don’t know Cheetor. I just…don’t know."

* * * * *

"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Megatron growled out it pain, suspended over several Decepticon onlookers, with pulses of energy being shot throughout his exostructure. One of the Decepticons, apparently the commander of the group, waved his hand, and the pulses stopped temporarily.

"I will repeat the question. Why are you here, and why do you hold the spark of the wretched destroyer Megatron? He that carries defeat with him, yet claims victory over the Empire…he that was on the edge of annihilation, and yet was saved by the destructive power of the Swarm? What say you Predacon, to be so bold and yet be such a fool to carry this spark, the spark that symbolizes all that is forsaken in this ‘new’ Cybertronian society?"

"I am here to bring glory to the Predacons, in the form of my leadership, to crush those who would oppose my will!" shouted Megatron in reply. "The Maximals shall suffer for what they have done to us…what they have done to me! And when I finish them off, I shall come to get my revenge…on you."

The pulses began again, wrenching Megatron in wild directions as he tried to fight the pain. "Outfit him with a control device and send him back to his cell. The captain wants them all alive to see the end of his plan…not that it will matter."

"I swear to you I will see you all pay for this insolence…if I must make Cybertron itself a weapon, I shall see your precious Empire burn at my feet. AAAGGHHHH!"

Megatron was hurled into the cell, landing face down on the floor. He couldn’t draw enough power from his energon converters to stand up. As his troops helped him to an upright position, he looked at the Maximals across the hallway. "I suppose this is to be my final humiliation for this day. To be laid upon the ground, defeated, in front of my enemies," growled Megatron.

"How do you think we feel, flame breath? We have to look at you," said Rattrap back. "That’s humiliating enough."

Megatron glared at him, then at Primal. "So, it appears we’re in the same predicament, Maximal, and a very dangerous one indeed."

Primal narrowed his eyes. "So it would seem. Not much chance of survival either. The Empire was legendary in its size and power. If they want to wipe us out, it’d be a pretty simple matter."

"Yes. In its day, the most powerful ships of the Autobot and Decepticon alliance could not stand against their warships. While our technology is better than the alliance’s, we still wouldn’t stand a chance…at least not alone," said Megatron.

"Are you suggesting a truce?" Primal questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Why yes. It would seem to be the only option we have at this point. I don't know if even an alliance between us would succeed, but I have an ace up my sleeve which we might be able to use."

"What is it?" Primal asked.

"Not now, Primal. The walls have ears. My plan requires we get off this ship first."

A Decepticon guard walked between the cells. "Thinking of escaping?" he said, smirking. He pulled a device out and activated it. The inhabitants of both cells fell the floor in pain. "That was the lowest setting. There are nine more. If any of you want to experience all ten in rapid succession, try to escape. No one leaves here alive until the captain orders it, understand?" Both groups looked up with anger in their eyes. "Good. Just to be sure, I will be watching you. You will all be my pet project," he said with a maniacal grin.

Primal struggled to his feet. He stared defiantly into the guard's eyes and said, "That's just Prime."

* * * * *

Triceratron was dragged into the bridge and thrown to the floor. The room was entirely empty of personnel and darkened, save for a single figure in the center seat, who faced the opposite direction. A voice emanated from the seat. "Leave him," it said abruptly, as whoever sat in the seat waved his hand. The guards left the bridge. "Hello, White Orb. I've heard you've been busy. Betraying the Empire, aiding the enemy, perpetuating the existence of the archaic Cybertronian elements, and the list goes on. We could have you executed for your treasonous ways the moment you stepped on board had you been another Decepticon."

Triceratron struggled to his feet. "You're the captain I presume," he said.

"About that you are correct. I regret inform you, however, that you are wrong about a great many other details." The chair rotated to face him, and two white optic lights pierced the darkness.

"And what would those be?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, for starters, your existence up to this point. You've prided yourself on being something of a self-proclaimed protector of the Cybertronian race, correct?"

"True."

"False. An utter fabrication. You have served the Empire from your first breath, right up to your requisition today. You serve us even now."

"But I defy you. Why would that be?" Triceratron asked in a self-assured voice, almost certain of the lie.

"Because that is your mission, your reason for existence. That is to say that your personality exists because of it, thus you exist in your current state. The Orb weapons project has existed far longer, however. Plans for the construction of the most powerful soldier the Empire had ever known began nearly four centuries ago, and you were nearly completed before the Autobots and Decepticons appeared. As the menace began to loom on the horizon, your construction was finalized. After a few early successes you were given a long-term objective. Your mind was reprogrammed so you wouldn't suspect that you were being subtly controlled. We needed a special operative, someone who would fit it and gain the trust of the other, how shall I put it? Pawns in this little game."

Triceratron became slightly perturbed at this. "What game?" he asked, somewhat angrily.

"The game of chess our leader has given us. We subtly influence the planet of Cybertron in so many ways, one of them being the placement of information and small mind alterations over time on certain well placed subjects. Take the enemy in this case. The Predacons that came to this planet were all directed here, Megatron especially, to take part in this grand scheme. The Maximals have played the game well, but have yet to realize that their supposed ally is the enemy in disguise."

"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else. I will not be the enemy of any well-meaning Cybertronian," Triceratron shot back.

"Really. White Orb confirmation code Jhiaxus-Alpha-Alpha-Zero, access datatrax 1998121, passcode agenda. Upload into random access memory and play."

Triceratron was suddenly hit with three years of memories he had never realized he had. He had taken part in vast massacres, destroyed hundreds of Autobots, flew reconnaissance missions, blockaded numerous alien strongholds during Jhiaxus' campaign of genocide, and had committed atrocities that made his fuel cells churn. As he came out of it, he gasped suddenly realizing this captain spoke the truth. "What? How? I...I don't remember. When did this happen?"

"Three years before your first memory. These were your test runs, which gave my predecessor, Jhiaxus, the confidence to give you this mission. You see, White Orb, you were to destroy the Ark for us."

* * * * *

The Maximals and Predacons had long ago given up the prospect of escape, as the guard assigned to their watch had kept his word. He had been marching back and forth in front of their cell once a minute for several hours. On every pass, his gaze hit his captives, and they could tell that he took sublime pleasure in watching them suffer. The prisoners began to completely lose hope when another guard appeared. The first guard saluted his approach.

"The captain has ordered we release these prisoners on the planet's surface. Follow prisoner drop procedure," he said, and then left the brig. The original guard immediately deactivated the force field as the Maximals stood up, preparing to be carried away. The guard pulled a gun from his back and, before they could react, stunned all of them in one shot. He turned to face the Predacons, smiling and holding the box that activated the control devices.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," he said, turning the control to level five and activating it.

* * * * *

"Your mind is a controlled falsehood. Everything you hold as the truth about yourself is a lie. The very thing you have spent your entire remembered existence doing is the exact opposite of what you are here for. You were supposed to gain the trust of the fools on this planet and wipe their entire history out," the captain continued.

"NO! I refuse to believe it," Triceratron spat. "I cannot be what you say I am."

"Who are you trying to convince, me...or yourself? You've known for a long time that there are memory nodules in your mind you cannot access. You can feel a force deep within your psyche that is driving you to go against your own better judgement." The captain stood up and began to walk around his chair, the gaze from the bright, white optics cutting through Triceratron. "You know I'm correct. You can feel it surging through you. It's a powerful force, putting pressure on every moral you hold dear. Those morals aren't even your own."

"You see, White Orb, the temporal homing device that was disabled in your body was your wake up call. The part of you that is the loyal servant to the Empire, the brilliant and powerful tactician you were before you were given your mission still exists. Oh yes, he is there, waiting patiently, biding his time until the signal came to bring him to the surface. When he was to be brought out, he was to follow the motivational imperative supplanted in the homing device. When the timeline readjusted itself, the Empire's problems would have been over, and the galaxy would be ours to rule. The funny thing about space-time is that changes to it remain permanent when the traveler doesn't effect his existence in the process. We couldn't create someone for the purpose of destroying the Ark in the past because they would negate their own existence. No other soldiers had enough power to take on this mission. It was you who would clean this pockmark off of Cybertronian history, to finally end the pettiness of the archaic Great Wars and bring the Empire to its inevitable supremacy. You were the one who would experience the ultimate glory of defeating the enemies of the Empire once and for all!" The captain suddenly approached, revealing himself in the light. The light did nothing, however. The robot that stood before Triceratron was a silhouette, completely and utterly black; no light reflected off his surface, all was absorbed into the seeming void he created. At first Triceratron's eyes widened in abject surprise, but something triggered in his mind, flashing an image from the memories this captain had released.

"You!" he gasped.

"Yes, me. You remember your brother, don't you White Orb? The second creation of the Orb project."

"Dark Orb..."

"I've moved up in the world, however. You are addressing Dark Orb, captain of this ship and Liege Centuro of the Cybertronian Imperial Battlefleet. You are aboard the Pulsar, the main warship of the fleet. I'm afraid the flagship was unavailable, but it's just as well. I don't want anything unfortunate to happen to it."

"So you know everything about me, but did you know your homing device failed? I still think as the defender that I've become. Shouldn't the device have activated this so-called personality of mine, the one you proclaim to be my real persona?"

"An accident, I assure you. A two-part signal was supposed to be activated from a cloaked outpost on the edge of Cybertronian space a few days from now, but the cloaking device failed and disintegrated to prevent theft. Before a ship could be sent to repair it, a group of Maximals testing a Transwarp drive in the vicinity stumbled upon it, and inadvertently activated your motivational imperative only. Your personality reactivation code was not sent. We were sent to activate it ourselves since your homing device was rendered inoperable. You see, your job isn't finished here."

* * * * *

"Ah, what the slag happened?" said Cheetor as he slowly became conscious. "Big bot?"

Optimus slowly became aware of his surroundings. He looked around and saw they had all been dropped in their original positions, on the battlefield in front of the Ark cave. "We're back to where we were. Before we were captured."

"Yeah, but so are they," Rattrap piped up, pointing at the sky. The dark outline of the Decepticon warship loomed menacingly above them. "I don't get it. They left us off without even a slap on the wrist, but they're not leaving. What's the deal?"

"Oh, it's really quite simple, yes. I suspect that they have no interest in destroying us, but we won't survive their true intentions," Megatron said, approaching the Maximals with his troops following him. "I think Tarantulas can explain it far better than I, however."

"They have taken Triceratron and have not returned him. Given his history as a Decepticon and his recent actions, I think it's safe to say that they plan on destroying the Ark!" Tarantulas said. "It seems as if this was a preplanned maneuver. They had the ability to reclaim him at any time, and yet they waited until this exact moment to appear."

"If they destroy the Ark at this time," Rhinox started, "we don't matter at all. We'll all be wiped from the face of history!"

"They dropped us back here for one reason," Blackarachnia added. "To see us all disappear after they drop the big one. They'd probably get some perverse pleasure from seeing us evaporate."

"Yes, their deviousness knows no ends. I could get to like them...but this is not the time. I have a plan. The Predacon base still has a few transwarp cells in storage. With your Maximal ingenuity, we could devise a missile to detonate upon impact with the ship," said Megatron. "Waspinator, return to base and retrieve the Transwarp cell."

Optimus Primal mulled this over. "What if it doesn't work? We have no idea if they can shield themselves from a Transwarp explosion. If we can't destroy the ship, then..."

"Then we all die, Primal. This is our only option remaining. We must do this if you wish to survive," replied Megatron.

"Agreed. Rhinox, prepare a missile and detonation system. Rattrap, Silverbolt, Depth Charge, scan the ship for any shield weaknesses. I want this to go off without a hitch, understand? We may not have any other options, and we'll only get one chance at this. They don't consider us a threat yet, but if this fails they'll surely retaliate," said Primal. "Now, get to work."

* * * * *

Triceratron kept staring at the completely black form of his adversary. Dark Orb had been called over the communication system and had been notified of the actions of the Maximals and Predacons on the surface. He finished the call and returned to face Triceratron. "Your friends are taking the bait. They are in the middle of constructing a Transwarp missile, which cannot affect the shields on this ship. After that, we will unleash your fury upon them. Once we have brought your true self back into control, that is."

"Why don't you just destroy them yourself?" Triceratron asked in a spite-filled voice.

"The Liege Maximo has made it clear that we cannot interfere directly with these events. The true power of the Empire must not be revealed to the anachronistic Cybertronians, only a taste. It is his order that you and you alone bring Cybertron to its knees. Otherwise it may be possible to develop countermeasures. The power of the Empire is vast, but technologies can be developed that can be a potential threat to that power."

"Sounds paranoid. Perhaps the Liege Maximo is afraid of them?"

"Not afraid, realistic. The Earth massacre three centuries ago has tempered the Empire's actions. We have agents all over Cybertron ensuring our technological superiority, and we will not attack unless victory is assured. We can afford the loss of troops, but we cannot afford to lose our edge." The piercing gaze once again reached Triceratron's eyes. "It is time for you to complete your mission. You will be taken to the mind reprogramming room and your true self will be returned to control. Your current personality will be destroyed in the process, such as it was." Two guards entered the bridge. "Take him."

The guards grabbed his arms and began to lead him away. The doors began to close, but as they did, Triceratron focused. He realized that he was still in control of his own destiny. He pulled his arms loose, and threw the two guards through the wall. Dark Orb emerged from the bridge, calling more guards as he did. He punched up the control device to full strength, and Triceratron fell to his knees in severe pain. He looked at Dark Orb with narrowed eyes.

"The pain will only stop when you stop resisting," he said. "It is your destiny...brother."

"You are not my brother."

"You are Agent White Orb of the Imperial Special Forces, you will submit."

"I am Triceratron, defender of Cybertron, and you do not control me!" He charged his shields, and the pain intensified. Somewhere in the pain he found direction, power, and renewed strength, a strength he had never experienced before. He charged further, finally bursting through the block the control device created and frying its circuits. He stood up, his shield a glowing aura about his body. Dark Orb narrowed his eyes.

"If this is how it must end, so be it." Dark Orb powered up his shield. His silhouetted form became even darker as he began to manipulate the gravitational field around his body. He became a miniature black hole, drawing everything around him into his shield, warping the corridor around him, and pulling all light toward it. Triceratron was somehow able to withstand the new attack, for his energy shield countered the inward force with an equally strong outward force. He raised his hand and focused a blast of energy at the center of the darkness, piercing the event horizon and striking Dark Orb with full power. Dark Orb lost concentration and hit the wall behind him, knocking him out. Triceratron pulsed with powers that seemed to dwarf those he had previously experienced in this form. He pointed his hand at the wall and fired a continuous blast that sliced through every wall to the outer hull. He shot forward, bursting through to the outside of the ship and surging downward.

"Big bot, it looks like the cavalry has arrived," said Cheetor, partially excited and equally apprehensive at the same time as the white bolt charged to the surface.

"But is he our ally...or our executioner?" Optimus asked himself. As Triceratron left the influence of the ship, his molecular deconstructors shrunk him back to his normal size, adding the energy released in the reaction to his fuel cells. As he neared the base, he transmitted a short message to the Maximals.

"I'm back to help. Do not fire the missile, it will not affect them. I have another plan."

* * * * *

Optimus and Rhinox hauled the Transwarp missile into position as Triceratron's ship decloaked nearby. Triceratron opened the engine assembly and removed a spherical structure approximately the same size as the Transwarp cell. "Sorry girl," he said to his ship's computer, "I'll make it up to you."

"What's the plan?" asked Optimus.

"My ship's engine is not driven by a Transwarp drive. I have a custom-made Timewarp drive, which is far more powerful and more efficient. This is similar to the Empire's engines, but I've been able to enhance some of its abilities. I doubt it's likely that they're able to combat it, but even if they can, the after effects of the explosion create a temporary rift in the timestream. Anything near enough to it will be torn apart and deposited across all of time and space. Putting it in is essentially the same procedure, but I'll need to reprogram the detonation sequence."

"Um, you'd better hurry," shouted Rattrap. "They're firing! We're all gonna die!"

Triceratron stepped back and focused his energy at the warship's main cannon. As the beam it emitted met his energy burst, Triceratron's knees began to buckle under the sudden strain. "Rhinox!" he yelled. Rhinox got as near to him as possible for fear of burning his circuitry from the heat he was emitting. "The arming sequence must be activated a certain way. I will tell you the code, you have to enter it, or otherwise it won't work. Got it?" he yelled over the noise his power generated.

"Oh, I hope they know what they're doing," said Rattrap nervously.

"We all do Rattrap," said Optimus.

* * * * *

Dark Orb watched the scene from the bridge. This travesty could no longer be allowed, he thought. He'd have to deal with it personally. He walked to the shuttle bay and opened the hatch, transforming into his flight mode. He left the protective barrier of the shields and began to follow the path of the main gun's energy beam. The missile the Maximals had constructed streaked by; he ignored it. A Transwarp explosion was nothing compared to his power. The missile impacted.

Almost in slow motion the blast emitted a blue flash and exploded outward. Suddenly the explosion reversed flow, and a gust of wind began to pull Dark Orb towards the ship. The beam from the main weapon had stopped. He turned to see the dark gaping opening that had appeared. That was a Timewarp explosion, he thought. "I've underestimated that fool! I must escape, or get caught in the rift!" he said to himself. He turned and shot upwards with all his might, out of the atmosphere and as far into space as he could get. The Pulsar appeared to warp into the void, as bits of hull, equipment, and Decepticons were sucked inward. In another minute, the ship and the rift had disappeared into a bright pinpoint of light.

* * * * *

Triceratron decided to remain in his original form for the time being, but shortly after the incident he was seen working on the insignia on his ship. Optimus approached him, and saw a totally new shape where the Decepticon symbol had once resided, the shape that resembled a green reptilian creature with three horns and a frill. It was the shape of a triceratops head. "So I take it you're not joining with us?" Optimus asked.

"No," Triceratron replied. "I do not belong to any existing faction, I cannot. I am Decepticon by birth, but my mind says otherwise. There is something buried deep within, something too dark for me to describe or even understand, but someday I will sway it to my point of view or even use it in my quest. To me the greatest enemy is the one inside of me. I must first control it and ensure that it never controls me. I cannot change it yet, but someday I will be stronger because of it. That is my destiny. I am Triceratron, defender of Cybertron. It's more important now than it ever was before that I stand against those who threaten the Cybertronian race as a whole."

Triceratron looked at the stars and realized his time was short. "Optimus, I must leave you soon. I'm too much of a danger in this timeframe, in this place. My 'true self' is still here," he said, pointing to his head, "just waiting to finish the job. I need to get away from this place and warn Cybertron of the Empire and their intentions."

"Are you certain they'll listen?" asked Optimus.

"They have to, or I fear we're all doomed."

"How will you get back? Your ship's drive engine was destroyed, and you have told me since that Transwarp cells are incompatible with your energy system," Optimus inquired.

"Well, I hoped you could help me with that. I believe I can use the Transwarp cell we acquired from the Predacons to power my way home, but I can't hook it directly to my ship. I'm going to need help getting it set up. You think Rhinox is up to it?"

"Well, I could certainly ask him," said Optimus.

* * * * *

"Dark Orb, you have failed me as well as the Empire. What have you to say?" the Liege Maximo thundered, his words echoing throughout the Hub.

"Your excellence, the personality we implanted in White Orb was too strong. It had too much conviction. I couldn't control it."

"The personality was that of an insignificant worm of a Cybertronian. You failed to control it because you failed to understand it. Because of this, White Orb's full power potential was discovered by the false personality, and it poses a threat to the Empire. For the loss of the Pulsar and the 900 crewmen on board, you shall be demoted to Lieutenant and stripped of command from the battlefleet. Your promotions are hereby suspended; if and when you can retrieve White Orb and return him to the Empire, you will be able to earn your previous place in the Empire. It may be possible that the other members of the Orb project will have better luck in retrieving him, in which case your demotions will be sustained until you have otherwise proved your worth. Dismissed."

Dark Orb walked away grumbling to himself about finding revenge someday on the Decepticon he had once admired so greatly.

The End