valnes941

[valnes941]

Satеllite of Cybertron/Chapter 6

The morning had started incredibly early for the county's famous cronid. And I don't need to tell her that as the New Year approached, the light was getting later and the evening was getting earlier. If she said early, it was early! Even the light that came through the vines was enough to keep her awake again. Though maybe it was because she had gotten a good night's sleep, but that was much less likely. Besides, her left side was already numb to the touch. Couldn't even turn her back to the wall.

It was lazy to get up. I mean, she'd been warming the place all night. But despite the minimal efforts to save her eyes from the inexorably increasing glow, her sleep could not be saved. With a disgruntled groan, the cronid lifted herself slightly off the bed and opened her wings, arching her back. His right wing grazed the scratched section of wall that turned into the ceiling, causing the limb to jerk habitually. The flames on her wings went from translucent to a deep purple color, flaring up.

Slowly but surely, she rose from her plastered bed and lazily wove her way deeper into the cave. The passage was not straight: after a couple of minutes of leisurely walking it looped to the right and sort of went back. Gradually it got warmer. Eventually the girl, yawning, entered a very spacious “hall,�� if the cave could be called that. The muted turquoise glow allowed one to see a small irregularly shaped lake with a slight haze in the air.

The electric smell tickled her nostrils, her ears were caressed by the gurgling of a mini waterfall against the opposite wall, and the soft light of the unknown crystals that were literally everywhere dispelled the gloom and was definitely more forgiving to her eyes than the one outside. Slowly, step by step she immersed herself in the very warm water, then upon reaching the waterfall she stopped, letting the streams flow off her head.

A perfect start to the day.

Lounging in the pool, she casually leaned her back against the wall and immersed herself in the water up to her eyes. After waiting a bit, she tilted her head back and exhaled contentedly. Her thoughts began to wander.

How lucky she was to have found this place. Compared to what she had been able to make in the first few days from crystals and vines in the forest with her crooked hands, this was a room from a five-star hotel. One couldn't help but take credit for the species she now belonged to. Being a giant, fire-breathing, flying creature (which according to the religion of the locals was definitely a demon) that could eat almost anything had its advantages. The disadvantages… came from the same advantages. It's hard to make contact when you're normally many times the size of your potential interlocutor and look like you're about to drag him to the underworld. Not knowing the language only compounded the problem.

For a while, she'd been able to sneak around and remain undetected near the wall, but recently that had been… stopped. She'd enjoyed those sneaks. It gave her the illusion that she wasn't alone.

Oh, well. It was the nature here that had originally brightened her loneliness anyway. And no, by “local nature” she meant anyone in these mountains, except for one really annoying motobot. That stalker seemed to follow her wherever she went.

Yeah, yeah, it's weird to complain first about being alone, and then about literally the only intelligent bot that doesn't try to shoot/stab/spear her and so on… But hey, before that, she chose who to socialize with on her own, despite the smallness of her social circle. Fun fact: kids are either the most open-minded or the most terrifying creatures in the world. Luckily, she's been lucky with that. She can't speak for everyone in the settlement, but the five she met were active, boisterous (a little too boisterous and active at times), and generally nice kids.

What ended up happening to her was her own fault. She let her guard down and….

No. Never mind. Thankfully no one else was hurt.

Cronid immersed himself entirely in the water again, as if trying to wash away unpleasant thoughts.

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Liber vented deeply. The fresh, cool air cooled his excitement-heated systems. He hadn't climbed too high, but given that even before the mountains rushed sharply upward, the terrain itself rising toward the mountain range, he had a spectacular view. From here he could see both the settlement, which was round-walled and drowned in a favorable blue vegetation, and the stream, whose ultramarine color at the foot set it apart from all the mishmash of green in the Cyan Jungle.

And, as it was day, everything shone.

From the heights one could see the semi-circular boundary between the two colors: the mech had crossed this river-boundary more than once. From the present point of view, its far bank was drowned in the energon life typical of the region, but from the near bank to the mountains, it was as if the Creator had scattered a container of copper-chrome dust.

A very large container.

The purple two-wheeler once again looked around at the landscape created by Primus, time, and nature. It was no wonder that every apprentice had to leave the archives and hit the road at one point or another in their activism. It was hard to find a book that could tell such beauty as if you were in the place being described….

"BAAAAAA!"

He almost tumbled off the cliff. When he regained his balance, Liber looked around, mentally berating himself for letting his guard down. sheepitrons weren't generally dangerous mech-animals, but given their habitat, their habit of kicking or screaming at the most inopportune moments could be costly. Few wanted to be deactivated in such a foolish way as falling from a height due to the sudden appearance of a Shipitron.

The mech easily counted at least two dozen sheepitrons, which, as one, stopped chewing on the dark green vines lying on the ground and began to slowly gather into a denser group off to the side. Listening closely, the motorcyclist realized he had missed the moment when the whistling of the wind and the crunch of the chewed plants were joined by a cautious, grumbling hum. From one of the crevices in the shadow-filled cliffs, a black cougaraider slowly strode in. Liber's armor jingled quietly, relaxing. Fortunately, of all the things that could have alerted the herd, it turned out to be Strag. It belonged to a local huntress who had joined him halfway across the trail.

The mech-animal growled softly, cautiously circling the herd and approaching the mech. The one vented grudgingly, realizing that he had been delayed and that he needed to continue his search further.

After all, what could be better than finding a cronid?

Finding its nest!

Knowing how and where the creature dwells in a place it deems safe would definitely provide unique, possibly never before recorded data. Simply observing the cronid in the jungle shed light on certain behaviors, traits of which could be seen in different situations (such as its habit of chasing an object of interest and its love of bright, shiny things, which was seen in the beast's interactions with techno-stallions and lillet, respectively).

"Well, did you find anything?" here it is. For the most part, the turquoise armor, which should normally be an asset in crystal forests, stood out painfully in this green riot… "As if your armor was camouflaging you anywhere."

Fem rolled her optics in response to his perplexed look. You're not good at hiding your thoughts at all." she got down on one knee next to the cougaraider and began scratching the one behind his audiosensor, making him squint through the same yellow eyepieces as his mistress. Stag had calmed down a bit, but was still peering tensely in the direction of the sheepitrons, twitching his tail and audials.

Liber didn't know exactly how his faceplate expression changed, but apparently Somnic thought it was funny. "Don't be so afraid, I'm not my teacher,” and grinning, she added, ”You're not as good at controlling your hull and EMP as you think you are. I don't see how you didn't get eaten."

The mech snorted irritably and placed the manipulator on his sword, attached to his side by a magnetic connector. Normally he carried it in subspace because that one wasn't suited for his transformation and would only get in the way. However, under the current circumstances, when he was with his “partners” and in unfamiliar, rough terrain, his alt wouldn't be of much use. Some skills he had.

"Nothing that I could detect."

Somnic frowned unhappily. Given the size of the creature and its ability to fly, they had already set out to explore the nearest peaks. As a spawn of the Destroyer, daylight coming from the very core of the planet should be abhorrent to it (the fierce purple flames were perfectly visible in the night sky as the creature made its way out of its lair). So they'd need a crevice wide enough, leading into a dark burrow large enough to accommodate the brat.

The only consolation was that this doesn't come out of the Cyan Jungle, unless you count the first appearance in the Darkest Hour, almost a vorn ago.

The next Darkest Hour was inexorably approaching. The days had become noticeably shorter than the nights, approaching the point where not even a spark of normal daylight could be seen beyond the cord.

A growl interrupted her musings. She looked closely at Strag - it wasn't like him. At first she had thought it was his way of letting the other, weaker mech-animals know that a predator had arrived, so that they would get out and not make a mess. Right now it seemed as if he was trying to scare someone. Scare, not in the sense of showing his strength, but trying to instill the idea that fighting him would be costly.

It was as if the cougaraider was facing a vastly superior predator. And after all, from a certain point on, he hadn't stopped watching….

Fem turned sharply toward where the herd was standing. Which had already been approached by that inconsiderate motorcycle!

"It seems to have found something after all." the said mech was smiling contentedly. "No one here is into haircuts, are they?"

Somnic took a closer look - he was right: the alloy coat of the sheepitrons was roughly the same length all over the body, which was especially noticeable on the larger, older individuals. She stood up and carefully approached (Strag's behavior was no worse). A closer look revealed another peculiarity - some had irregularly shaped superficial patches of fused fur about the size of two of her palms.

No one in the settlement had a weapon or the ability to use something with sufficient temperature to have such an effect; the sheepitrons wouldn't go into a place like a smelter or forge on their own, and no one would drag them there; the predacons, if they decided to stay in these parts, would burn everything down along with the sheepitrons - they wouldn't be running around right now.

There was only one option left.

The corners of her mouth lifted a little. It looked like they'd found a clue.

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 5

In the centre of Festus Fax stood a building, as semi-circular and steel-grey as many around it, but it was many times larger and therefore more imposing. It was a temple dedicated to Primus and the first 12 Primes. It gave rise to the greying, as it was the first building constructed in the area. Of course, it was originally intended to house all the inhabitants of the fledgling village, but as time went on and new houses were built, that function fell away. However, the structure did not cease to be a gathering place for all the inhabitants, both for meetings and religious ceremonies, reminding them of the greatness of the Creator and the First Ones. Throughout the city, a bluish white light could be seen at track locations, gaining in brightness with each click.

On the steps to the temple sat three mates - one fem and two mechs. On the top step sat a focused pink femme. Behind her back loomed the wings of a motorbike, she was somewhat more massive than the stereotypical two-wheeler and the constructs that would have acted as wheels in an altform were four in number. Her helmet and limbs were decorated with yellow lines. In her manipulators the fem held a discoloured photocell of a metallic fern and scratched thoughtfully at it with a sharp metal stick. Against her sat an equally serious plum-coloured mech. His wings were tense against his back, his dents were gnawing hard on his stylo, and his optics were trying to melt a hole in the photocell in his manipulators. The bright blue elements of his armour stood out against the darker base colour. Between them, a step lower, lay a yellow mech with its doors spread out slightly, boredly shifting its gaze back and forth between Metric and Divido. It was clear even to the mentally calculating Lenis that the former was about to crush his opponent in an artistic contest. He stretched as he rose, glares running down the grey patterns on his body. Time was running out.

"That was it, the three breems were up."

Fem set the stylus aside with her helmet proudly raised, while the mech doomedly lowered its manipulators with an unfinished drawing. A few more clicks passed. The yellow mech rolled up its orange optics.

"Guys, show me, you're the ones who called me here for this."

Arrogantly spreading her pink motobike wings, Metric showed off her leaf. A cougaraider was scrawled on it, walking confidently through the thicket. A frustrated Divido, slouching even more, carefully opened his creation. There was something to look at - something was looking at them from the sheet: the fact that it stood on two servos and had two manipulators, the creature resembled an ordinary cybertronian in a robomod. But that was pretty much where the similarities ended. There were horns sticking out of the helmet, an obscure triangular protrusion on the faceplate between the diamond-shaped eyepieces and a little above the fanged mouth, the geometric body was closer to a ball, the wings (three branches each) were too small, and knife-sharp fingers were present on both the manipulators and servos. Lenis re-examined the two drawings.

"Well, Divido, I'm sorry, but Metric did a better job of depicting the word ‘force’."

Fem grinned contentedly and cradled the painting gently in her arms. As if anyone could take it away from her. The losing mech grimaced as he examined his work - it wasn't going to get any less ridiculous or more impressive. "I just don't take the easy way out," he pouted.

"What do you mean?" Metric squinted, gripping her sheet tensely with her fingers. "What are you implying?"

"I mean," Divido faltered a little, but didn't look away. "That me used his imagination more than you."

The yellow mech prudently began to step around the arguing couple, heading up to a safer place than the stairs. He didn't need to be Vector's messenger to realise that standing next to them was not a good idea anytime soon. Meanwhile, the conflict had reached a climax - unable to withstand the sudden round of glares, Divido ran - only plum heels glistening. An angry Metric chased after him. A merry catch-up ensued, and the altercation was still going on.

"But that's just it!" The mech barely dodged the leaf "You just drew Strag!"

"I drew Strag well! Without looking at him!"

"And I drew Cronid! Without ever seeing him!" he ducked. "Before that!"

"Your drawing is a piece of scrap! And we both know it!"

The temple door slid open slightly, creating a gap in the seemingly impregnable rounded wall. After a few astroseconds, the passage opened fully, and an elderly white and silver mech wearing a metallic cloak stepped out. He nodded slightly to Lenis, and then his faded yellow optics focused on the mates who were still screaming and scurrying up the steps.

How was it a miracle none of them had fallen yet?

With a scream, Divido crashed into him, and Metric crashed into Divido before he could slow down. The young artists raised their helmets in unison, examining the suddenly appeared obstacle.

"Messer Chorus!" The two pairs of red eyepieces rounded amusedly, and the dark pink and plum wings drooped in embarrassment. It seemed like just a little longer and they would lie on their backs in an attempt to look into the faceplate of the incredibly tall in comparison priest. Which wasn't surprising considering the old mech was one of the largest residents of the settlement.

Chorus smiled softly, and his blades showed from beneath his grey cloak.

"Hello to you too," the mech quickly got to the main point. "So, what's all the fuss about?"

Metric and Divido looked at each other unhappily and just silently handed the photocells to their guardian. He carefully evaluated both drawings.

"Well, Metric, you're definitely better than before," though the femme's armour shuddered slightly, she quickly regained her modest appearance, smiling slightly. "And Divido…"

A thoughtful expression appeared on the priest's faceplate. Both sparks showed a talent for drawing, but each had a different aspect they were most interested in. In that respect, Metric was… easier to understand. She strove for maximum accuracy, capturing the moment as it was. Her successes were easy to spot - for example, he was now holding an image of Strag, not some cougaraider. Divido, on the other hand, possessed an imagination that at times seemed boundless. In this case, however, the sheer number of images was more of a disadvantage - he often tried to add new ideas to the drawing on the fly, which overshadowed the original meaning. The final result was incomprehensibly-interesting.

And so it was this time.

"It's definitely… something," he tilted his helmet thoughtfully to the side. "What exactly did you want to draw?"

Spark, who'd already been excited, grew sad. Here we go again. He mumbled something quietly.

"What? Sorry, old mech, I couldn't hear you." Chorus bent down.

"Cronid." - he repeated harder and louder.

The supoptic arches of grey-silver mech lifted in surprise. Why of all things…? No, to be honest, initially he'd been more inclined to think it was some kind of weird predacon or something. But - a cronid?

"It was a competition," everyone immediately turned to Lenis. The yellow mech, leaning against the temple wall and crossing his arms over his chest, continued. "They drew on the theme of ‘force’.

A heavy sigh was heard from the priest's side.

"So, may I ask the reason for such a… unconventional choice?" no, he's certainly a servant of Primus and a preacher of the wisdom of the Primes, but he's certainly not one of those proud fanatics from the north who can't see beyond their manuscripts.

"Well, there's been so much talk about that… a vorn ago, the whole village was abuzz with the discovery of an unknown beast. Who hasn't seen that fire show in the sky at the Darkest Hour? Even in the mines they saw the purple glow and the whistling roar on those nights. Also..." Chorus realised that he had to stop the young talent's flow of thoughts, already regretting his question.

"Good," he stroked the sporkling's helmet lightly. "Okay, I think I get it."

It seemed to be a trivial curiosity, which was not surprising. While there were still stories about Primus and the deeds of the 13 Primes in the temple, there was very little information about their opponents, Unicron and his 5 Krones. It makes sense that the events that took place in this vorn have so stirred the sparkian imagination.

Still, the shouting outside so early in the morning wasn't the only reason he'd come out.

"Has anyone seen Canor? And Stan…"

"Out for a walk behind the wall," everyone looked at Lenis again. "Classic and Bellic promised to keep an ocular on them."

Chorus vented deeply. Good thing it was those two. The monochrome brothers balanced each other well: Classic - the older - was more principled, while the younger - Bellic - was more flexible. They were the constant gatekeepers.

"Oh, there's Stentor! And Canor!" Divido shouted joyfully and started running towards them. "Canor, Stentor!"

The old mech, having followed the sparkling, also saw the familiar orange and green figures. The diminutive, quiet Canor unlike many of his other apprentices didn't get into trouble on her own. And speaking of trouble…

Stentor had been asked to look after the spark's older sister, Somnick, as she had been busier lately… more than usual. Und Vox - her teacher, the hunter - was due back soon, after almost a vorn. So the femme had been disappearing into the forests from morning to night for training, eager to show off her skills to the best of her ability. Now, her younger brother is an extremely active little mech who at times got into trouble because of this and helped others with it.

In a nutshell, ever since he settled here on a permanent basis, this old priest had more things to do than he would have liked. However, looking at the group of kids now, with their conversations buzzing, he couldn't help but think that everything that had happened was for the best.

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 4

A new chord, a new chance.

As the light from the ground gathered strength and coloured the room with blue-white highlights, Liber realised that, as much as he hated it, it was time to get up. Though he was excited about the journey and the new experience, the mech couldn't help but think back to his room in the Iaconian archives, where he could decide for himself how much light he should have. Because of this, he often overslept and was reprimanded by his mentor…

Let's not mention the sad part. Now it was time for him to pack anyway and prepare for a new "expedition" into the cyan jungle. If he doesn't need much time to get there, he'll definitely need it to find a new good place to watch. Yes, he certainly has a few in mind, but you never know if there's a subject waiting for you there. In this case, more meant better.

Mech stood up, folded the thermal blanket neatly and, placing it on the platform, finished tidying up the bunk. Satisfied, he sat back in his chair, retrieved a grey metal bowl from subspace and took a sip of energon after removing the lid. Mmm, how he loved that almost no middle class flavour. Alas, one must save one's germanium supplements, no matter how much he liked the sweetness and bitterness it imparted.

Returning the dishes to subspace, he stood up, stretched, checked for his brush and ink case and book, a 2-3 cord energy ration, a hopesh (cleaned, oiled and polished), bandages in case of injury, book and ink and brush case.

Rolling the door sideways, he stepped out and ventilated deeply. Glancing around the area, his optics revealed a view of the morning's quiet settlement. A multitude of semi-circular structures like the one he emerged from dotted the surrounding area evenly. His path lay beyond the village, however: the purple motobot sped briskly towards the gate, along the block wall that surrounded the houses in a circle.

"Wait, who's coming!?"

Liber didn't even try to hide the rolling of his optics. This had never happened before - and here it was again. He tilted his helmet back, looking at the gate. The dawn rays illuminated two figures standing on the gate, about the same distance from the strange pin, bifurcated at the top: on the right shone a white mech, whose alt-form was probably a car, and on the left a black silhouette of a motobot. Two blue visors were staring down at him from above.

"Classic, Bellic, are you serious? How many times do you have to ask?" The violet mech waved its manipulators irritably. "Aren't you sick of it yourself?"

The black one - Bellic - jumped with a laugh and landed gracefully right in front of him. Show-off.

"Sorry, mate, but you know the rules," - the guardian smiled. "Besides, what if you got eaten by glitch-mice in the night and the Unicron spawn took your form?" he began to wiggle his fingers in a "creepy" manner.

Liber looked at the white mech - Classic.

"Rules are rule,". - He was unfazed and even turned his back to him. "There are reasons for them."

"So, who's going and where?" Bellick leaned in slightly.

The purple mech ventilated deeply. Here was another disadvantage of travelling. Rarely would strangers be welcome anywhere.

"Liber, researcher from the Temple of Knowledge, want to go out to observe the cronid, alt is there."

The white mech nodded, then crouched down and held out a manipulator. The black mech took the help offered by his brother, and thus found himself back at the gate. They then grasped two different ends of the arm, which turned out to be two levers. Each pulled his own towards him, and, heel to toe, they slid the gate open. Liber skipped quickly through.

And earlier they had made him tell them his colour, his alt, his approximate route and whether he was coming back. All because he's not from around here.

The gate slammed shut with a clang. Now it could be said that he was alone in the bluish metallic forest…

And no, he wasn't alone. Not far from the entrance, by one of the paths (which was the one he needed), sat two sparcs, an orange and a dark green, the former larger than the latter.

Oh, they're from here, from Festus Fax. Liber didn't talk to them specifically, after all, what could a sparcling say about a topic of interest? However, if he tried, he might even be able to remember their names.

"Hello, Stentor," the carrot and turquoise mech turned sharply, not expecting to see him. Along with him, the small green femme, whose helmet was adorned with orange elements, turned with a quiet squeak. "And Canor," He attempted a friendly smile. The little ones stood up and hid something behind their backs. It was so obvious that he decided not to point it out. But his spark couldn't help but rejoice: the sparklings had clearly been exploring something in the thicket before, and the fact that the new generation had a love for seeking out new knowledge was encouraging.

"Hello, sir," Stentor said awkwardly as Kanor hid behind him. Liber felt two stares sinking into his back again.

Who could it be besides Classic and Bellic?

Taking the hint, the young explorer carefully stepped away from the sparcs on the path and went on his way, advising the little ones to be more aware of their surroundings.

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Stentor stared at the stranger until he disappeared behind the metal ferns. After waiting a moment longer, he began to check the bowl he had hidden behind his back. Mech quickly removed the lid from it, and his fears were confirmed - the rusty sticks inside were untouched. Canor was in a similar situation.

He couldn't help but get angry. Somnic should have got in then! The others were good too: Divido and Metric could talk less about finding a 'good place for inspiration', and Lenis could overcome his clumsiness, for once! Otherwise, how did his sister manage to catch them off guard!

The little mech panted unhappily, but soon calmed down and cowered. What was he hoping for? If this happened to him, he would never come back here. Perhaps the guys were right and there was no point in trying anymore?"

"Let's go, Canor," Stentor vented sadly and walked towards the gate. Fem, on the other hand, closed the round container securely, returned it to its original location (in the thicket) and quickly caught up with the older mech. Her motorbike wings twitched excitedly and glistened orange in the light.

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 3

It was getting evening.

There was less and less light coming out of the cracks in the ground, the tree-like crystals grew dimmer and dimmer, and the birds' singing became silent.

In the cyan jungle next to the cave, night and tranquility were falling. The entrance to the cave was covered by a large number of dangling dark green metal vines, acting as an improvised door. Fortunately, the temperature here did not vary much during the local twenty-four hours, to the inhabitant herself this model of door reminded her of something oriental. She was inside and nestled comfortably on her side on the makeshift bed. Retracting her wings, she managed to extinguish her fire and plunge the place into a pleasant darkness. Even without her nightlight in the form of a blue crystal, she was well aware that she was looking where the dining room was, her feet could rest against the wall if she wished and her head against the ‘work’ table.

She sighed heavily and rolled over onto her other side. Her glowing violet eyes reflected in an unusually well-polished sheet of unknown metal (it made an excellent mirror). The purple motobot immediately came to mind. A faint smile appeared on her face.

She had mistaken it for a horse the first time she saw it. No, have you seen the local horses? They turn into motorbikes! It wasn't her fault that in her attempt to get to know the local fauna better, she'd managed to catch just him! No wonder she dropped him almost the moment he was in her hands in all his glory.

Remembering now the shocked look on his, what she thought, shocked face made her want to laugh. The humble chuckle could have been well heard by any other creature, had there been one in the cave.

But there was no one. Not a single soul besides herself.

It wasn't as noticeable in the daytime. And yet time passed quickly: watching crystal butterflies and metal plants, catching up with moto-horses, playing with glass hummingbirds… Before she'd been on Cybertron, none of that had happened. Yes, space was empty at times, but the fact that she had a family was reassuring. Her father had been a smug jerk, and her younger siblings had scattered across the galaxy early…. Well, there were a lot of good times. Not bad for a reborn human.

But there were no beds in space. Oh, it took a lot of work to make one. Well, it also took time and a lot of sheep-like animal wool. They're very peaceful creatures. Favoured the local marshes, if you could call them that. She didn't know why they were so untouched by possible predators, but since they were the only creatures with such a feature, she ‘clipped’ a little from each one every couple of days until she had enough. Until then she had to sleep on bare metal.

In the end, she ended up with even a little more - the leftovers made a nice cap for a nightlight. After all, this crystal never stopped glowing, which was a bit of a problem. But the blue light diluted the atmosphere nicely. Green, of course, is kind of supposed to be a calming colour, but not in such quantity. Got it at the foot of the mountains beyond the river.

There was enough of that in there. Has a weird tingling electric flavour and is quite caloric. Gained a couple of pounds before the taste was no longer a novelty.

But it seems the local civilised robots feed on it - distill it into liquid form, maybe add something else - and drink it. At one time, she'd noticed that the resulting ‘clear’ drink was darker in adults than in children. Though, given how wide the Cybertronians' growth range was, it wouldn't be surprising if some of the smaller robots turned out to be adult minicons.

My eyes finally closed, and everything went completely dark. The only thing that could be distinguished was the quiet breathing, which gradually slowed down. Sleep had taken over the place completely.

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Far to the west of the cyan jungle, and even from Festus Fax in the forests at the foot of the Manganese Mountains, a dark blue mech, with a triangular red visor covering its faceplate, was moving toward this settlement. His quick but silent stride, his careful gait, made him look like an experienced hunter. But it was getting dark, and it was too dangerous to go any further, especially in such a wild place as this. So it was decided to find a more or less safe place to rest. It was soon found: it was a space between several interlocking crystalline trees - large enough to accommodate him, but with a passage narrow enough to keep anything bigger than him from climbing in. Slowly pulsing cable vines replaced the ceiling to some extent, and some of them dangled in such a way that, when viewed from the side with the proper imagination, one could see a miniature rain of stars.

For some reason he hesitated before entering. Looking up, he put out an arm bent at the elbow, and an imperceptible sound wave erupted from his helmet. It didn't take long for the result to come: the sonicondor appeared almost silently, sitting down on the proposed perch in the form of a manipulator and then rubbing itself against the fur's chest plate. Holding the avinoid, he scrutinised the possible shelter.

The mech nodded satisfactorily, satisfied that there had been no changes since his last time here. He released the sonicondor, covered the entrance from outside and inside with vines, and began to prepare to reload.

Suddenly his chest compartment opened up and two rectangular blocks flew out, transforming into two identical red and purple coloured robots respectively and landing deftly on the servo. The large indigo mech pointed two fingers at them, then pointed at their surroundings and, raising his index finger upwards, outlined a circle in the air with it. The minicons nodded back at him and dispersed in opposite directions, towards the cracks that could become entrances for uninvited guests.

Und Vox vented a sigh of relief: finally some rest. The journey had not been easy, but they were getting by. Their little family had practically returned home almost within a vorn of leaving it. Good old Festus Fax, small and cosy. One can only hope they didn't miss anything important. I wonder how Somnic is doing? Knowing her younger brother Stentor, you can tell she's definitely not bored. The fact that he's best friends with his Furor and Rugit is the best proof of that. In the first few days after their return, no one would dare let their guard down.

These little menaces can make a mess of things even separately, one can only guess what they can do when they reunite again…

Oh, the sparklings will be eager to hear about the journey, and they'll be only too happy to talk about it. The uncharted forests of the Manganese Mountains, the shore of the Rust Sea with the Hydrax Plateau visible in the distance, the Sonic Canyons that respond to every noise with multiple echoes - it took a lot of effort and concentration to capture them at their best.

And yet you have to stop to think. The night was not rubber, and tomorrow they would have to get up early to make it on time.

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 2

Ora vetita. Forbidden Land.

Everyone in Festus Fax knew not to venture into the cyan jungle. Everyone knew that wild lands were dangerous, but this corner of the Manganese Mountains was particularly dangerous.

It was difficult to accidentally violate the boundary of this forest zone - one couldn't help but notice the river, beyond which stretched a mysterious green vegetation. Those who were attentive would notice changes in the shape of the same metal ferns even before crossing to the other bank (their leaves-photocells acquire a more jagged and indented edge). In the forbidden land itself, the first thing that begins to weigh on the processor is silence. Not only audible, but visual as well. The crystalline trees were consistently different still shades of green - here you won't see the colouration of a plant, from so light it appears white to almost absolute blackness, change over time, displaying the full spectrum of blue. You won't see the peaceful ripple of the cable vines, reminiscent of the quiet beating of a Cybertron sparkler. There is no glow of cyberflies, no buzzing of insectatrons, no flapping of avinoid wings, no clatter of mech-animal paws. Only the occasional whistle of the wind, making the reluctant greenery rustle like an old, rusty instrument.

But we must not let our guard down! Such ‘emptiness’ is only characteristic of the border. If you go further than necessary, you won't know when you might be attacked by an arachnotron or some kind of cyber-cats (like a couguareider, a turbofox, or a pack of cyber-dogs). And that's not counting the crazy petro-rabbits, annoying roboto-possums, ubiquitous glitch-mice, and deadly poisonous razor-snakes.

Yes, of course, such slag is commonplace in these parts, but one must remember the true lord of the forbidden land.

Cronid.

This isn't some poor fallen or mindless terrorcon. Though they all trace their lineage back to the Great Destroyer, the latter two can be dealt with without the Chaos Guardians. Theoretically. There are rumours of both someone other than these warriors being able to defeat these monsters, and of these same warriors having to call in reinforcements. These are all rumours, however.

The creature that had taken up residence there would be impossible for a normal Cybertronian to deal with. The fact that many hunters returned unsuccessfully, miraculously retaining their active, only confirms this. Fortunately, the Unicron spawn only leaves the forest on certain days when Primus' power comes to the surface, but then it's so weak outside its territory that even a spark can deal with it. Alas, the creature is well aware of the latter, too.

Calling the same Guardians is a dead end. Getting to the nearest large settlement where you can send a message is a feat. Plus, there's no guarantee it'll get through.

That's how we live. We don't mess with cronid, and cronid doesn't mess with us.

Well, except for that weird two-wheeled explorer from the Temple of Knowledge. He visits the creature's territory every day, and surprisingly, he's still active. Seems to be a good indication of how having an alt contributes to survivability.

It's already starting to tell time. No, seriously, he goes out means it's time for everyone to get up, he yells at the whole neighbourhood means it's evening, he comes back means it's bedtime. Liber's a weird mech, but everyone's used to him. It'll be a shame if he leaves.

Oh, there's a scream. Looks like it's time to wrap things up.

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Liber said hello to the guards, entered the village, and walked contentedly into his temporary home. He looked round the only room in the place: it was in Kaon-style, but he didn't need much. A platform, a table, and a chair. Quickly sitting down on the latter, the mech pulled out a book with a case and began updating the notes he had recently made. He needed to hurry before the light coming from below, directly from Primus' core, went out, marking the coming of night.

His brush didn't stop for a click, which wasn't surprising - the information was still fresh in his mind. He excitedly began to reread the new chapter. Who would have thought that a creature as terrifying as a cronid could live in harmony with a creature as beautiful as a lilleth.

Lilleth is the smallest representative of avinoids (belongs to the pennavinoid subgroup), even the largest individuals do not exceed the size of a minicon. They prefer a solitary or paired lifestyle. They are known for their fragility and beauty. Completely transparent at first glance, their corpus is able to scatter light and shimmer in a special way, giving the observer to admire all possible colours. Logically, they are extremely secretive, it is usually difficult to find even one.

However, what did he see today? A flock of lilleth circled around the cronid, greeting him at their nests. Nests that at the moment contained eggs even more fragile than their creators.

Who in their right mind would have guessed that the Destroyer's offspring could be so gentle and careful?

By the time Liber had finished, the lights in the room had gone out completely. All he had to do was lie down on the platform for a recharge cycle.

What new things he would learn tomorrow?

[valnes941]

Satellite of Cybertron/Chapter 1

Okay, Google, what to do if you suddenly found yourself in space, didn't die after a few minutes, realized that you are no longer a human… are these two giant robots destroy nebula during battle?

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He was running. Again.

Green crystalline trees whizzed past, metal ferns whipped around the hull, and cable vines tried to get under the servo.

But it wasn't the first time he'd been here either.

From behind, the slow, loud stomping and noisy venting of the pursuer could be heard. The vegetation around him reflected the violet glare more and more vividly.

He was being caught up. As expected.

Spark pulsed excitedly, heating up his chamber and accelerating the energon pounding in the audials. Optics in battle mode scanned the surroundings.

Up ahead, amidst all the kaleidoscope of green, steel and purple, the native blue lights appeared.

In time. He was already beginning to tire.

Suddenly, as always, the forest was replaced by the bare bank of a shallow but wide river. He was immediately transformed.

The two wheels made sure to make contact with the ground, and he quickly picked up speed. Using the familiar rocks as a springboard, he managed to fly over the obstacle and land softly.

He braked sharply to avoid crashing into the blue crystalline thickets and transformed again, but he was unable to steady himself on the servos and rolled over. Now he was lying on the aforementioned energy-blue crystalline vegetation and mentally counting the new dents on his hull. Well, as an unnamed seeker-researcher had written: ‘If you remain conscious after landing, the landing is considered soft".

Violet mech groaned and stood up, rubbing his bruised helm. When he regained consciousness, he retrieved two cases from subspace with a single manipulator movement. First, he checked the long and narrow case, opened it, and with a sigh of relief ventilated it: the brush and paints were in order (which was a good thing, considering how difficult impossible it was to find replacements for them in these places). The second case turned out to be a book - opening it, the motorcyclist checked the fresh inscriptions on the bound pages, which were safely hidden by the metal cover. Fortunately, the characters were still legible, though slightly smudged. All that remained was to quietly update them, and all would be well.

Flicking through the previous entries, he stopped at the very first page. The young Cybertronian's optics were not on that page, but on the inside of the cover, where the large handwriting read, ‘Notes of a novice explorer,’ and in smaller print, ‘Liber, doing Vector's Feats'.

Closing the book and carefully placing the important things back into subspace, Liber looked at the opposite shore. The creature that had stalked him had not left. It was following him closely with its bright purple optics, whose colour was diluted only by the darkness in the middle, like black holes surrounded by the light they sucked in. Though the beast was not clearly visible from behind the green thickets, the fur knew its appearance well.

A powerful giant, many times larger than him, a silver body, two manipulators, two servos, a pair of horns and wings each, as if made up of a single endoskeleton, capable of flashing flames the colour of the creature's optics. Something that shouldn't live, no, exist on Cybertron.

Cronid.

A species descended from Unicron himself, the bringer of Chaos.

And yet there it was, and it was about twenty-five mechanometres away, never having left its teritorium.

Satisfied with the job he had done, Liber walked slowly into the blue forest, looking for signposts to get back to the settlement. Knowing that he would not be attacked (the cronid himself had never crossed the river, all dangerous animals had been scared away by him), he found himself daydreaming about the next time he would learn about this creature.

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The creature sighed as it looked at the robotic motorbike. Wasn't he tired of following her and then running away? On one hand this behaviour annoyed her, on the other…. it was refreshing.

This purple stalker was the first intelligent (?) inhabitant of this world who hadn't tried to kill her after his first encounter with her.

Though the fact that he always came back was a little tense and reassuring. How curious/crazy do you have to be to come back to her every time, knowing it would end in a mad race?

But, come to think of it, one didn't prevent the other.

Sighing once more, she turned away from the river and walked back to her house.

This day was exhausting without metal weirdos lacking the instinct for self-preservation.

[valnes941]

Holidays on Nemesis

Hi! This is my first post. This is a fanart based on my fiction (which is not written) about body swapping. I think it's easy to tell who is who by the colors of the highlights. I don't know when I'll add people.

OK, here we can see different first reactions:

Someone is scared...

Someone is ready for battle...

Someone is in quiet horror...

...And someone hasn't woken up yet...