Purple Light: C6

One Foot in the Grave

Nightfall sat in his tight officers quarters scanning the names on the screen. He was to pick a new leader for his elite unit. The warriors within the unit all had special abilities, functions that were useful if combined with one another, making them extremely effective in battle. Yet, none of them had the initiative or the intuitive nature of the now late Starscream. The Flight Commander did not boast the most powerful of weapons; but it was, in its special way, useful. Null ray blasts caused the target to momentarily malfunction or drop into stasis permitting the others to have a chance to act against or capture the target. Again, not powerful, but very convenient.

He wondered for a moment if Starscream's past as a scientist was not as bad as he had initially thought. Nightfall admitted to himself that he disliked scientists in general. They had their usefulness-locked away in some remote lab; but as warriors they were usually ineffective. They spent their time observing and over analysing a situation. They would have to think on a problem, going through a multitude of steps before finding a solution. Starscream was different. In the heat of battle he observed then analysed, and then, almost instantly, acted on a plan. When given more time, Starscream could think out in depth plans, even considering a multitude of possible failed outcomes and finding a solution to each one.

The ruby glinted in the dim light catching Nightfall's optic. He picked up the stone and glanced it over. It was finely cut and glimmered gently. Not a rare stone, by any means. They were often used within lasers, but it was unusual for its size. It seemed to lack any imperfections. It was perfect for a weapon or even adornment.

He exhaled slowly as he looked at the list of names and qualifications. It hit him like a hammer. The reason it was so hard to find a replacement for Starscream was because the former Flight Commander's past as a scientist was a bonus to the effort rather than a hindrance. He realised he was not going to be able to replace the lost warrior; he would simply have to find someone to do the job effectively.

It would take too long to brief a new Flight Commander for the mission and, unless dead mech could talk, he had less than 15 hours to come up with an effective plan—and attend a funeral. Nightdfall looked up at the ceiling as a new revelation revealed itself. He was expected to give a eulogy. Nightfall exhaled and rubbed his face. He wished, momentarily, that he could either extend the day, or go back in time and stop himself.

*  *  *

The following morning was much like the previous night. The sky was still dark. The smell of smoke from distant fires hung in the air tinting it a slight blueish grey.  The air was somewhat cold and damp.

Continuing with their prank, the Seekers had stuck as close to the traditional funeral rites and told each other humorous and embarrassing stories about their Flight Commander. Starscream, if he were conscious, would not have been amused. Luckily for him, he slept soundlessly on, blithely ignorant.

Nightfall, having momentarily given up the quest for a replacement mission leader, chose to join the group and listen in. He had come to the conclusion, while trying to write up a eulogy, that he knew virtually nothing about the deceased warrior.

Skywarp chortled loudly as he spoke. "Starscream's pretty good in the sky, but get him on the ground...have ya seen him walking around the base? You know how he is on his feet, he can't walk to save his life. Well, there's a lifted floor plate down annex 7A. Ya know, the femcon living quarters? Well he tripped on that plate and spiralled out of control and smashed through the wall. He got his head and intakes stuck, real stuck—inside the one barracks. Lucky mech, I tell ya. But you know Starscream, he'd see it as a living nightmare; 'no time for girls', know what I mean? 'Duty first', he'd always say." Skywarp grinned broadly. "The girls just seem to have a thing for him."

"Anyway, Six femcons tried to push or pull him back through. Well one femcon, Phoenix, is her name, punted him hard in the face, sent him spiralling back out the way he came. The other girls were on his wings and arms tugging. He landed on one just as Megatron walked around the corner, coming to check in on the commotion. I bet Starscream wished he had died then. He was sent to repair bay to fix a broken nose. Megatron said absolutely nothing at all." Skywarp finished.

"What was Starscream doing down in the femcon annex anyway?" Acidstorm asked.

"Beats me," Skywarp replied with a shrug. "He probably didn't know why he was down there either."

The morning wake up klaxon sounded and the Seekers looked toward the dim digital wall clock. "Geez, Dirge'll be here shortly to lead the way." The Seekers fell quickly silent.

When the traditions had started, no one was entirely sure. What was certain was that the Seekers had developed their own culture and practised it at every given opportunity. The foot fall's of a trio of Seekers neared the door then stopped. Followed by a triple knock on the door then a pause.

"We have arrived" said Dirge.

Acidstorm rose to his feet and opened the door. "We are waiting."

Dirge stood wearing a double snare drum across his shoulder and it hung lightly at his hip. It was painted black with gold highlights. The web belt that held it to his waist was coloured in a deep midnight blue with a golden insignia emblazoned on the buckles.  Around his neck he wore a finely braided silver and gold wire lanyard which ended in a heavy bronze key.

Dirge was flanked by his wingmates, Ramjet and Thrust; neither looked happy to be there. Ramjet held in his hands a neatly folded gold and black cloth while Thrust held a folded flag.

"As the sun rises, has Starscream also risen?" Dirge inquired in a mournful tone.

"Negative, Dirge," Acidstorm responded on cue. "Starscream still lays in an everlasting sleep." The muddy green Seeker stepped away from the door to  permit Dirge and his wingmates to advance.

"We will collect him and take him to his place by the everlasting flame."

Skywarp barely stifled a snicker as he set up the pall next to Starscream. With the help of Ramjet and Thrust, the three moved the unconscious Seeker.  

Thundercracker, filled with dread, held his breath as the Coneheaded Seekers proceeded to fulfil their funerary duties. They, like Nightfall, had no idea of the truth.

Ramjet unfolded the black cloth and covered the body bag and then Thrust laid out the flag on top. Skywarp and Acidstorm unpinned the banner from the wall then handed it to Thrust and Ramjet. They removed the two sconces with the purple funeral orbs and hung them on hooks on the foot of the pall; they were ready.

"We now proceed to the crypt." Somehow funerals always fell upon the shoulders of Dirge, yet he did not seem to mind. Someone had to officiate them and as long as he was not the one the funeral was about, it was morbidly interesting. The Seekers lined up on either side of the pall and then glanced expectantly at Nightfall. They had left one spot open.

"Uh...right," He inhaled deeply and took the vacated spot. It was tradition that the leader of the unit take the right hand side. Since it was the unit leader's funeral, he, as his commander, had the unfortunate honour.

Dirge nodded grimly and started to beat out the march and they all slowly moved forward; painfully slow.

There was never a convenient time for a funeral but this time, of all times seemed the most ill timed. It was not Starscream's fault and that had aggravated him even more. As they got closer to the crypt, Nightfall worried more. He was unsure how much time they would need to finish their proceedings. It could take a few minutes to several hours, depending on the popularity and position of the Decepticon.

Starscream was not particularly well liked; he came off as an upper class snob. He did not call anyone his friend and he spent much of his time away from the others. He seemed to enjoy being alone, which was odd for a Seeker as they were such a group oriented race. Nightfall was not sure exactly why the others were suddenly so mournful of their Flight Commander's passing. Was it because they felt empathy for him abruptly dropping dead. Or maybe it frightened them; It certainly frightened him.

And then there was that eulogy, even though he had sat in on the stories, he still did not know anything about Starscream. He knew that he did his job well, that he was a scientist before the war and at some point he had been a Prisoner of the Autobots and had somehow managed to escape. He did not know much of Starscream's personality other than the odd aloofness. As one did not speak ill of the dead, he could not go around calling Starscream an arrogant snob. What were his merits? Masterful tactician, fast thinker, adept flier. Those were well known.

Nightfall abruptly paused in his march. What did the others know about Starscream, the loner, the friendless Seeker? Could he make stuff up on the spot. Would they call him out later on his..."errors". Since he really knew very little about the deceased warrior, he decided it would be enough to keep it short and to the point. Perhaps this funeral could be over in a couple minutes. Hopefully his wingmates had little to say.

"Sir?" Thundercracker inquired as the group bumped to a stop, jostling the pall. They held their breaths hoping the sudden stop did not disrupt Starscream from his deep state of somnolence. Fortunately for them, Starscream was content to remain co-operative.

"Um, nothing. I was just reflecting on our...departed comrade," he replied picking up the pace once more. Thundercracker nodded and the group resumed their tedious march.

The Crypt was located outside of the Darkmount fortress. It was a long walk at a regular pace. The march easily took an hour and a half to get to the great metal doors. The Decepticon Crypt was not a popular destination. Most Decepticons, once their friends were laid to rest, would avoid the place like the rust.

The entrance of the Crypt was reasonably modern. It was altered and adjusted as it suffered damage in the war. Massive pillars made of rare Lapis Lazuri, a deep blue stone were topped with a large Tridium lintel. It was capped by a bronze roof, that had gone green with age and corrosion. The top of the roof was adorned with dragon-like gargoyle statues, each holding a purple lamp in one of their clawed hands.

Putting his drumsticks aside, Dirge removed the lanyard which the key was attached to. He walked up the heavy bronze door. It was almost as old as the crypt itself. The door was inlayed with metals depicting images of ancient Decepticons in battle meeting a most glorious, if not, messy end. He inserted the key into the lock and turned it, using both hands. The primitive lock thunked loudly causing the remaining Seekers to jump just a little.

Dirge pulled on the ring handles to open the door. It creaked ominously as if the hinges objected to the intrusion. A whoosh of escaping, musty smelling, stale air caused the Seeker's wings to prickle. Even though most of the group realised there was a sort of prank in progress, they felt uneasy.

The structure's original foundation was incredibly old and none of the Decepticons knew its actual age. Even Archaeologists who studied the ruins of ancient Cybertron were unable to get an exact date; the oldest tombs were so old that the metal had become so corroded as to be unreadable. Archaeologists and scholars argued that the crypt structure were originally built by the Autobots, and Decepticon hoodlums had vandalised the writings which was why the oldest tombs were not legible.

The deeper a Decepticon would wander within the catacombs, the older and more primitive the statues became.  Many of the visitors to the structure wondered if the ancients actually looked like that or the artisans were not particularly skilled. The one thing that stuck out to anyone who entered the ancient building was, the statues of the oldest warriors lacked any possible form of transformation.

Although Decepticons refused to acknowledge any form of religion, they believed in luck and even a few believed in fate or destiny. They tried hard not to believe in ghosts; the concept was laughable. However, deep within an ancient crypt, it was very difficult not to let the imagination run wild. The group of Seekers drew nearer to each other. Even Dirge slowed his step until he was bumped into by Ramjet and Thrust. Nightfall, gripped the pall so hard that his knuckles flared with purple sparks. The effect caused him and the others to let out a sharp gasp of fear. Even Skywarp's optics skittered around the room nervously as if he was second guessing his initial idea; he wasn't supposed to be the one who was to be scared.

The troop finally arrived at a large circular room with a vaulted ceiling. The most ancient room in the crypt contained the fountain of the everlasting flame. The floor was marked with with words and a star that resembled the points of a compass. It was correct once, but over time, the magnetic north moved it's position. Also on the floor, surrounding the fountain were words in a language that was no longer used. Scholars believed it to serve as a warning as translated: "He who drinks from the fountain of slain warriors, will burn for eternity in the everlasting flame and be unable to find peace after Death." The fountain itself flowed with purple fluid, which was often called the blood of warriors. Decepticons, who felt it best to not push their luck or test the curse, chose to leave the fountain well alone, deciding the fluids within were most likely very toxic.

And finally, the top of the fountain contained the everlasting flame; a bronze chalice that burned with a hot golden light, illuminating the room. Some said that if one stared into the flame, they could see the faces of the warriors who had drunk from the fountain. Twisted expressions screaming in silent agony as they burned for eternity.

Thundercracker tapped on Nightfall's shoulder as the Seeker stared intently into the flames. The distracted Seeker jumped and shook his head as if to clear it. "Commander, it's just fire, nothing more," the grizzled blue Seeker assured.

Along the perimeter of the room were more statues. These were larger and more ornate. Adorned in thin metallic leaf of precious metals, and some even had exquisite jewels inset into the optics.  The statues all had a single purple orb glowing in a small aperture at the base of the monument.  These were the grave markers of the Decepticon leaders from times long past. They had met their ends in battle or by the cunning of their successor.

After every second statue was a door leading to a different burial hall. The hall of heroes, the hall of warriors, the hall of Air Warriors and finally a small, grungy, unmarked door  the hall of betrayers and traitors. A place where the bodies of the unwanted dead were unceremoniously deposited along the back wall.  A procedure that was long since abandoned in favour of recycling the traitor in the smelting pit.

Once again, Dirge disengaged from the group and stood at the door marked with the insignia of the Air Warriors. He removed a ring of keys from a subspace  holding and inserted another key, smaller than the one which he used to open the crypt entrance. Again the door opened, this time it was smoother and a little less noisy. The Hall of Air Warriors was too frequently used. Statues marked Air Warriors of status. While the lessor warriors had small vaults in the wall. Each occupied vault had a glowing orb set in the socket. It gave the mausoleum an appropriate atmosphere. To the surprise of the group. Megatron stood in the threshold looking at them with an intense, dissatisfied expression.

"So—it is true," Megatron said in a stern tone. "I still find it difficult to believe that it is possible for a hot headed Seeker like Starscream to drop dead after a minor inspection." He was irritated yet wanted to see that this proceeding ended quickly so he might salvage his planned mission before it went entirely out the airlock. "I hope we can get this little—ritual out of the way. I have a mission we need to get done very soon and our window of opportunity grows small."

The pall bearing Seekers placed their burden upon a heavy metal altar in the centre of the room while Dirge and his wingmates pulled open one of the vaults in the wall and made it ready to receive its occupant.

Nightfall glanced at the shrouded Starscream. Did he hear a moan coming from the inert Seeker? He wondered. None of the other warriors appeared to have heard it. Perhaps it was just the wind.

It was time. Dirge and the other Seekers arranged Starscream on the alter carefully. Resting the orb at his head. Thundercracker and Skywarp stood at Starscream's head, they held their weapons at the ready. They were the Honour Guard.  Dirge took up his position and beat the drum and then glanced over at Nightfall. It was time for the Air Commander to speak.

Nightfall glanced at the fallen Seeker and pondered words. He really did not know what he should say. What did he know about Starscream? The warrior was a War Academy graduate of significant standing. But that was in his official records. He knew little about the private life of the Air Warrior. He knew there was history to the flier, his body bore marks from being a prisoner. He bore scars from wounds that remain poorly healed.

“I-uh.” he stammered,  “I admit I don't know much about our departed comrade even though I worked with him a great deal. He never spoke much about his past, or even said much about his future. He kept to himself and focused on his work. His efforts will be missed. I know he was one of our most accomplished fliers, his agility and tactics will be missed.” Nightfall stood to the side and glanced over at the Warlord.

Megatron nodded. “If that is all that needs to be said, proceed with the internment.”

The room was lined with markers of prominent Decepticon Air Warriors.  The back wall of the  was lined with small doors, like drawers of a filing cabinet. Indeed, it was much like a filing cabinet. Each drawer was marked with a number and had a small plaque with a name written on it along with another personal ID number. Below the plaque was another hollow in which a glowing lavender orb was placed. Dirge pulled out a plaque and placed it in the slot. It had Starscream's name and his number. He gestured to Skywarp and Thundercracker, the closest friends of the fallen Seeker and indicated that they should slot him in.

Skywarp and Thundercracker turned to lift the Seeker up and push him into the drawer. Thundercracker stared intensely at Skywarp. He worried about Starscream and what would happen next.