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"Yes, well," Jhartix said. "Let us hope the Quintex will deliberate on this question with utmost fairness...."
****
Gavel said quickly:
"There is no need for further deliberation. The Magistrate must go."
"But he has the support of Quota and the refineries of Productus," Quorom whined.
"No, no," Corpus rejoined. "The Imperial Magistrate does not owe Quota anything. You see, Quota receives a commission for producing his armies."
The other Judges paused.
"What?" Gavel said. "The Imperial Magistrate pays him? That amounts to several hundred million credits per army!"
"Indeed," Writ remarked sadly, "the age of gratituity has forsaken that of pro bono legality."
"In any case," Quorom remarked, "Quota will not abandon the Magistrate lightly. His livelihood depends on this war."
"Rembmer, Quorom," Gavel remarked acidly, "we live in a Dominion. Which means, we have many different domains."
Corpus laughed merrily at this.
"Yes, of course. We received most of those planets thanks to your conquering hand, Gavel. Rather costly though."
"What of? Machines? Feh, they aren't even alive in the term that we know them. And organics have perished because they have not seen the...utility...of joining the Dominion."
"Like the Lithonians?" Writ said quietly. The other Quintex members paused. Everyone knew their story. Refusing to deal with the Dominion (and holding off every invasion force) the Lithonians were a sore in the side of the Dominion.
"It doesn't matter, Unicron wiped them out," Corpus said easily.
"Even so," Gavel replied, nodding, "even so. I see Writ's point. Caution before calculation."
Writ nodded, his point having been made.
"What of Delibarata?" Corpus said.
"He is another puppet of the Magistrate's," Quorom said quickly.
"Oh yes, of course. And you are very decisive," Gavel remarked darkly. "Delibarata will not join with us. He will have to be exiled after this nonsense with the Decepticon aristocrat."
"Speaking of that...why not let the Imperial Magistrate dispatch the War Fleet? After all, we've received the reports. The Transformers are locked in civil war. We could institute the rebellion after Cybertron is ours," Quorom said eagerly.
"Why not, Gavel? Then we'll have Cybertron, and then reap the rewards after the Imperial Magistrate is exiled..." Corpus muttered.
Writ remained silent, scowling. Finally he said:
"That is not what we promised Jhartix."
"What we promised to discuss, Writ. Pay attention," Gavel snapped. "He is in no position to demand terms from us."
"His slave worries me," Corpus said. "He is too smart for a robot. Didn't he say he'd come back to Jhartix? Were had he been before?"
"So?" Quorom asked, puzzled.
"Where has he been? Those records are classified to us," Corpus said, "the Model Two project was top secret. Only the Magistrate, the Inquisitor and Jhartix had access. Now that organic does too."
"The little ape?" Gavel snickered. "That egomaniac has been very busy...I heard he's re-created a monster, and some sort of disease that drives the slaves insane."
"I have heard those rumours," Corpus said. "Anyway, what will we say to Jhartix? Writ's moralizing's making me guilty." The others laughed, but Writ frowned.
"You should not make light of this, Brethren. We have a responsibility to re-shape..." Writ began.
"Spare me," Gavel shouted. "Were you when they had almost killed us? Damn it, I lost all my Dark Guardians fighting off rebellious war units. All my friends died! So don't tell me about the responsibility we might have! You were never on the front lines, always locked away writing some legal brief!"
"I too, lost associates," Corpus said bitterly. "Work robots killed them, though. They said they were cruel, which was a lie. None of them even participated in the slave trade, or the arenas."
Quorom shuddered.
"I was with Delibarata when the Imperial Magistrate heard the news on Old Quintessa...he went into a rage."
Writ remained quiet, very pale.
"I...did not know..."
"That I saw my fellow Magistrate's on Cybertron being torn in half by Megatron's forces? Sharkticons and Allagatorcons being smashed as if paper? Dark Guardians dying while shielding me from deadly cannon blasts? No, you didn't." Gavel said, fuming.
"In any case, what about the rebellion? Let's take a vote," Corpus slurred.
"Aye," said Gavel.
"Aye," said Corpus.
"Aye," said Quorom.
"Aye say I," Writ replied quietly. "Judge Delibarata will be counted in abstentsia. So it is spoken, so it is done."
"Gentlemen, we must all hang together..." Corpus started,
"...or we'll all hang sepreately." Gavel finished.
Silence reigned in the Star Chamber.
[Original RPG] New Quintessa
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"Oh no, Spitz, you performed quite admirably," Jhartix smiled. "You conducted yourself very well, and with the Quintex appearance goes a long way. Most of them are very superficial, on top of other qualifiers one might say about them."
Corpus' Sharkticon squire left the Star Chamber and tapped Jhartix on the shoulder. He jerked his head, indicating that the two were to follow him.
"The Quintex must have finished their deliberations. Shall we?" Jhartix said to Spitz, starting back with the Sharkticon squire towards the Star Chamber.
Corpus' Sharkticon squire left the Star Chamber and tapped Jhartix on the shoulder. He jerked his head, indicating that the two were to follow him.
"The Quintex must have finished their deliberations. Shall we?" Jhartix said to Spitz, starting back with the Sharkticon squire towards the Star Chamber.
Superficial? The dark thought rambled in Spitz's mind as he heard the door slide open and saw the Sharkticon come out. He bristled with energy and irritation, and then resumed his more collected look as he nodded and followed Jhartix into the chamber. Why doesn't Jhartix look bothered? Isn't he concerned at all? Quick deliberations are not usually good news...
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The two robots returned to the Star Chamber and stood before the Quintex.
"We have decided," Judge Gavel rasped, "to approve regime change...for the good of the Dominion. The rebellion will proceed. We do not have to tell you there is a chance of execution for us all."
Jhartix nodded, somber, and looked at Spitz.
"We have decided," Judge Gavel rasped, "to approve regime change...for the good of the Dominion. The rebellion will proceed. We do not have to tell you there is a chance of execution for us all."
Jhartix nodded, somber, and looked at Spitz.
Genuine surprise registered in Spitz's mind as the decision registered. He thought carefully in silence, trying to puzzle out the news. Everything he knew of the Quintessons, all of his experience, had shown him that they were logical creatures, and interested in what was best for them. This was good news and all the same, it didn't settle well.
He looked to Jhartix and saw Jhartix was watching him. Spitz knew better than to speak again to the judges directly without permission recurring, so he nodded in assent and then quietly asked, "Our roles, Jhartix?"
He looked to Jhartix and saw Jhartix was watching him. Spitz knew better than to speak again to the judges directly without permission recurring, so he nodded in assent and then quietly asked, "Our roles, Jhartix?"
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A security camera hummed in the Star Chamber...and filtered the image to the Inquisitor's private chamber.
"We have decided," Judge Gavel rasped, "to approve regime change...for the good of the Dominion. The rebellion will proceed. We do not have to tell you there is a chance of execution for us all."
"TRAITORS!" the able second to the Imperial Magistrate lashed his tentacles into a frenzy. "Gavel, the best Quintesson military commander, Corpus, the Imperial Magistrate's one ally...besides Delibarata, the worm. They have chosen betrayal...Quorom has no backbone...and Writ...the old fool finally decided to get his head out of a book...pity it will be the reason he will lose it!"
The Inquisitor froze the image on the picture of the Quintex, especially Judge Writ.
"I will enjoy dispensing Justice to the Brethren," the Inquisitor's oblong optics narrowed into slits. He then let out another piercing cackle, which caused his Allagatorcon guards to flee. The sound was so horrific it seemed to have been spawned from the mouth of madness itself.
****
On the docking bay of New Quintessa, a large transport ship landed.
Judge Quota himself disembarked, along with a vicious cordon of Allagatorcon guards. Quota was a very delicate creature, bristling with intellectual power. If he so desired, the Imperial Magistrate could have served him, the power through the forges of Productus was that lucrative. But Quota instead enjoyed the lavish graft the Quintesson leader gave him for his "loyalty". The Imperial Magistrate and Primacron stood on the docking bay.
"Another useless example of Quintesson technology," Primacron grumbled, though secertly the simian was delighted. The Imperial Magistrate knew it was second nature for Primacron to spew such language, so he let it go.
"Is the cargo here as promised, Judge Quota?" the Magistrate switched to his Death's Head face. Quota bowed low and said:
"It is. May I present Dark Guardian Unit One, designated, Harbinger."
The Dark Guardian clanked down the gangway, painted stark gray. One appendage bore a grappling claw, the other, a cannon. It was a perfect fascimile of Omega Supreme, though the stern visage under the blast helmet bore a frown instead of a wary neutrality. The Dark Guardian came to attention and saluted with his claw arm.
"What is your name?" Quota asked, reveling in his moment of glory.
"Dark Guardian Unit One. Creator Designate: Harbinger." The Guardian's voice shook the gangway in its sonorous evil. It was exactly one octave lower than Omega Supreme's vocal register.
"What is your function?"
"To destroy."
"Your...other function?"
"To protect."
"What do you serve?"
"The Quintesson Dominion."
"Who do you serve?" Quota asked, breathless.
"The Imperial Magistrate!" Harbinger roared, perfectly on cue.
Quota trembled from the site, overcome at the masterwork before him. Primacron had his hands clasped like a child, overjoyed. The Imperial Magistrate simply smiled.
"You do not fear, you do not know pain. Your enemies will fall before you like the Guilty, cut down by the blade of Justice. You will taste mecha flesh!"
The clustered Sharkticon and Allagatorcon troops present started a base chant:
"Harbinger, Harbinger, Harbinger, Harbinger..."
"We have decided," Judge Gavel rasped, "to approve regime change...for the good of the Dominion. The rebellion will proceed. We do not have to tell you there is a chance of execution for us all."
"TRAITORS!" the able second to the Imperial Magistrate lashed his tentacles into a frenzy. "Gavel, the best Quintesson military commander, Corpus, the Imperial Magistrate's one ally...besides Delibarata, the worm. They have chosen betrayal...Quorom has no backbone...and Writ...the old fool finally decided to get his head out of a book...pity it will be the reason he will lose it!"
The Inquisitor froze the image on the picture of the Quintex, especially Judge Writ.
"I will enjoy dispensing Justice to the Brethren," the Inquisitor's oblong optics narrowed into slits. He then let out another piercing cackle, which caused his Allagatorcon guards to flee. The sound was so horrific it seemed to have been spawned from the mouth of madness itself.
****
On the docking bay of New Quintessa, a large transport ship landed.
Judge Quota himself disembarked, along with a vicious cordon of Allagatorcon guards. Quota was a very delicate creature, bristling with intellectual power. If he so desired, the Imperial Magistrate could have served him, the power through the forges of Productus was that lucrative. But Quota instead enjoyed the lavish graft the Quintesson leader gave him for his "loyalty". The Imperial Magistrate and Primacron stood on the docking bay.
"Another useless example of Quintesson technology," Primacron grumbled, though secertly the simian was delighted. The Imperial Magistrate knew it was second nature for Primacron to spew such language, so he let it go.
"Is the cargo here as promised, Judge Quota?" the Magistrate switched to his Death's Head face. Quota bowed low and said:
"It is. May I present Dark Guardian Unit One, designated, Harbinger."
The Dark Guardian clanked down the gangway, painted stark gray. One appendage bore a grappling claw, the other, a cannon. It was a perfect fascimile of Omega Supreme, though the stern visage under the blast helmet bore a frown instead of a wary neutrality. The Dark Guardian came to attention and saluted with his claw arm.
"What is your name?" Quota asked, reveling in his moment of glory.
"Dark Guardian Unit One. Creator Designate: Harbinger." The Guardian's voice shook the gangway in its sonorous evil. It was exactly one octave lower than Omega Supreme's vocal register.
"What is your function?"
"To destroy."
"Your...other function?"
"To protect."
"What do you serve?"
"The Quintesson Dominion."
"Who do you serve?" Quota asked, breathless.
"The Imperial Magistrate!" Harbinger roared, perfectly on cue.
Quota trembled from the site, overcome at the masterwork before him. Primacron had his hands clasped like a child, overjoyed. The Imperial Magistrate simply smiled.
"You do not fear, you do not know pain. Your enemies will fall before you like the Guilty, cut down by the blade of Justice. You will taste mecha flesh!"
The clustered Sharkticon and Allagatorcon troops present started a base chant:
"Harbinger, Harbinger, Harbinger, Harbinger..."
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Jhartix frowned.
"I suppose we should begin by courting the moderate administrative Magistrates on New Quintessa. After which, the far-flung Dominion Outpost Magistrates would be another key move, such as Judge Quota of Productus."
Suddenly a large screen appeared and flashed on showing two simultaneous images: the appearance of the Dark Guardian Harbinger, and the Quintesson elite admiring him, and the wholescale battle ensuing on Cybertron.
"Gavel, look!" Corpus screamed. "The Imperial Magistrate has revived the Dark Guardians! And Quota is here, now!"
Quorom was shaking with fright.
"Yes, yes! We are doomed!"
Writ bowed his head.
"It is decided then. Perhaps if some loophole can be exploited wherein the Imperial Magistrate can still be deposed..."
"Oh, shut up Writ! The time for negotiations has ended! It is obvious that the Imperial Magistrate has decided to war on the slaves based on Cybertron," Gavel snapped. "Just look at this other feed picture. The former camps strangle each other, in front of us, in open combat. It is as we predicted. Both sides will flay themselves untill they are raw."
"And then?" Quorom asked.
"Why, Cybertron will fall, once Quota sends the remaining Dark Guardians against the Transformers," Gavel said assuredly.
"But what about the Inquisitor? He isn't outside! What if's found out! You know what a rumour-monger he is!" Corpus hiccuped.
"How else do you think that raving sycophant manged to reach his position, by destroying his rivals!" Gavel snarled. "He never took to the field as I, acquiring new planets for the Dominion. No, once the Inquisitor tells the Imperial Magistrate, civil war will erupt on New Quintessa, polarizing us against him. The winner will prevail, while the loser will be destroyed utterly."
"Our Sharkticon and Allagatorcon hordes are no match for the Guardian!" Quorom shrieked.
"And Primacron has the Techno-Organics under quarantine, those he hasn't sent to Cybertron. We can't access them," Corpus said.
"Forgive me, Brethren," Writ said softly, "My expertise in military matters is minimal, but there is one here who could challenge this Dark Guardian...harbinger of destruction." The aged Magistrate cast his sad optics at Spitz.
Jhartix saw the gaze, and shuddered.
"Judge Writ surely you are not suggesting that Spitz-"
Writ nodded slowly.
"I am indeed, Jhartix. I am indeed, though it saddens me to place such a noble unit such as your construct in jeopardy. Yet, our fates are bound together now, and there is little recourse. Can you do it, young construct? Would you challenge the Dark Guardian in combat, and defeat it, if required of you?" Writ asked of Spitz directly.
"Our very lives will depend upon it," Gavel said sincerely.
"I suppose we should begin by courting the moderate administrative Magistrates on New Quintessa. After which, the far-flung Dominion Outpost Magistrates would be another key move, such as Judge Quota of Productus."
Suddenly a large screen appeared and flashed on showing two simultaneous images: the appearance of the Dark Guardian Harbinger, and the Quintesson elite admiring him, and the wholescale battle ensuing on Cybertron.
"Gavel, look!" Corpus screamed. "The Imperial Magistrate has revived the Dark Guardians! And Quota is here, now!"
Quorom was shaking with fright.
"Yes, yes! We are doomed!"
Writ bowed his head.
"It is decided then. Perhaps if some loophole can be exploited wherein the Imperial Magistrate can still be deposed..."
"Oh, shut up Writ! The time for negotiations has ended! It is obvious that the Imperial Magistrate has decided to war on the slaves based on Cybertron," Gavel snapped. "Just look at this other feed picture. The former camps strangle each other, in front of us, in open combat. It is as we predicted. Both sides will flay themselves untill they are raw."
"And then?" Quorom asked.
"Why, Cybertron will fall, once Quota sends the remaining Dark Guardians against the Transformers," Gavel said assuredly.
"But what about the Inquisitor? He isn't outside! What if's found out! You know what a rumour-monger he is!" Corpus hiccuped.
"How else do you think that raving sycophant manged to reach his position, by destroying his rivals!" Gavel snarled. "He never took to the field as I, acquiring new planets for the Dominion. No, once the Inquisitor tells the Imperial Magistrate, civil war will erupt on New Quintessa, polarizing us against him. The winner will prevail, while the loser will be destroyed utterly."
"Our Sharkticon and Allagatorcon hordes are no match for the Guardian!" Quorom shrieked.
"And Primacron has the Techno-Organics under quarantine, those he hasn't sent to Cybertron. We can't access them," Corpus said.
"Forgive me, Brethren," Writ said softly, "My expertise in military matters is minimal, but there is one here who could challenge this Dark Guardian...harbinger of destruction." The aged Magistrate cast his sad optics at Spitz.
Jhartix saw the gaze, and shuddered.
"Judge Writ surely you are not suggesting that Spitz-"
Writ nodded slowly.
"I am indeed, Jhartix. I am indeed, though it saddens me to place such a noble unit such as your construct in jeopardy. Yet, our fates are bound together now, and there is little recourse. Can you do it, young construct? Would you challenge the Dark Guardian in combat, and defeat it, if required of you?" Writ asked of Spitz directly.
"Our very lives will depend upon it," Gavel said sincerely.
Spitz felt a quiver go through him as he looked at the tremendous dark and imposing figure of the guardian on the screen. It wasn't fear, but rather, an impending sensation of the desire to fight. He squelched it as best he could, revolted somewhat by the aggressive nature of the thoughts. Every ounce of his programming ached to defend against the threat now placed in front of them. Then he glanced over to Jhartix and the other judges as they spoke, finally locking optics with Judge Writ.
He listened carefully as the elderly judge spoke. Then Spitz stayed quiet for a moment as he thought.
"Certainly I believe that the group of Transformers on Cybertron must be brought under one rule, but this is not the way to accomplish that in my mind. Honorable Judges, I will do my best to accomplish what you ask of me. I will engage this Dark Guardian Harbinger in combat, in order to secure the best future possible for fair beings such as yourselves and Jhartix, and those of my species on Cybertron, but I cannot say what the outcome might be. Tell me where I must begin."
He listened carefully as the elderly judge spoke. Then Spitz stayed quiet for a moment as he thought.
"Certainly I believe that the group of Transformers on Cybertron must be brought under one rule, but this is not the way to accomplish that in my mind. Honorable Judges, I will do my best to accomplish what you ask of me. I will engage this Dark Guardian Harbinger in combat, in order to secure the best future possible for fair beings such as yourselves and Jhartix, and those of my species on Cybertron, but I cannot say what the outcome might be. Tell me where I must begin."
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The gangplank:
A few of the sycophantic Magistrates had already given their fawning praise to the Imperial Magistrate, who, grimly, accepted their thanks. As he floated back toward his chamber, Judge Quota and Primacron fell into step behind him.
"What is your answer?" Quota asked.
"The answer is yes," the Quintesson leader hissed. "Order as many units as necessary...the Dark Guardians will be our way to victory. You will be paid handsomely for this, Judge Quota."
Primacron cracked his knuckles.
"Even so," he whined, "my creations are ready for deployment- all they need is-"
"Fah!" Quota laughed in his dry tone. "Your work? A petty energy draining creature, and a bastardization Techno-Organic? Untested- and even when unleashed, dismal failures!"
"Insolent-" Primacron stamped his feet and wheeled on Quota, who simply smirked. "I am Primacron, creator of Unicron! And Tornitron! The universe is mine to unlock as I see fit! The Laws of Science bow only to me!"
"Enough," the Imperial Magistrate said, silencing the two courtier geniuses. Harbinger clomped behind the trio, silent as a tomb, seeing all, and missing nothing.
The Inquistior appeared outside.
"There is a matter which requires your immediate attention, Excellency. Perhaps the Dark Guardian can be tested ahead of schedule..."
"What?" The Imperial Magistrate, Primacron and Quota flicked inside after the Inquisitor, to watch the feed from the Inquisitor's security room.
****
"Attack him until he is dead," Gavel said harshly. "We have no time for strategy!"
Jhartix started to harumph-
"Judge Gavel-"
"Enough!" Gavel exploded. "We are all dead units! The Inquisitor has discovered this mechination, and now this Harbinger will be our end. Your slave is the only hope for our survival. Our meager guards will be swept aside by the Magistrate's legions. And then the Dark Guardian will come."
Corpus took a lengthy swig from his flask. Why hold back now?
"The construct is the only hope yes. He must draw out Harbinger in the open, and defeat him. If he follows inside the Star Chamber..."
"We will be destroyed." Quorom said calmly. "Jhartix, you must go. Leave now. We are doomed."
Writ sighed sadly.
"The Law will not save us. The Imperial Magistrate has abandoned reason for madness."
"Old fool!" Gavel roared. "The Imperial Magistrate has long been mad- you never chose to accept it!"
"Why would he?" Corpus said heatedly. "Always ensconced in his books. They won't save you now, will they Writ?"
Writ wilted from the backlash.
"There is yet hope. We cannot surrender in the face of adversity."
Jhartix spoke up:
"Of course, Judge Writ. Forget about the war- now we must think of survival. The Quintex should rally its honor guards and prepare for the Inquisitor's assault. At some point, Spitz will engage the Dark Guardian."
Gavel nodded.
"Go topside! Our fate does not concern you! Take that construct and destroy the Dark Guardian!"
The Quintex left their daises and levitated into their Chambers to prepare the final barricade. Jhartix, haggard, turned to Spitz.
"This is the final battle. We must go."
A few of the sycophantic Magistrates had already given their fawning praise to the Imperial Magistrate, who, grimly, accepted their thanks. As he floated back toward his chamber, Judge Quota and Primacron fell into step behind him.
"What is your answer?" Quota asked.
"The answer is yes," the Quintesson leader hissed. "Order as many units as necessary...the Dark Guardians will be our way to victory. You will be paid handsomely for this, Judge Quota."
Primacron cracked his knuckles.
"Even so," he whined, "my creations are ready for deployment- all they need is-"
"Fah!" Quota laughed in his dry tone. "Your work? A petty energy draining creature, and a bastardization Techno-Organic? Untested- and even when unleashed, dismal failures!"
"Insolent-" Primacron stamped his feet and wheeled on Quota, who simply smirked. "I am Primacron, creator of Unicron! And Tornitron! The universe is mine to unlock as I see fit! The Laws of Science bow only to me!"
"Enough," the Imperial Magistrate said, silencing the two courtier geniuses. Harbinger clomped behind the trio, silent as a tomb, seeing all, and missing nothing.
The Inquistior appeared outside.
"There is a matter which requires your immediate attention, Excellency. Perhaps the Dark Guardian can be tested ahead of schedule..."
"What?" The Imperial Magistrate, Primacron and Quota flicked inside after the Inquisitor, to watch the feed from the Inquisitor's security room.
****
"Attack him until he is dead," Gavel said harshly. "We have no time for strategy!"
Jhartix started to harumph-
"Judge Gavel-"
"Enough!" Gavel exploded. "We are all dead units! The Inquisitor has discovered this mechination, and now this Harbinger will be our end. Your slave is the only hope for our survival. Our meager guards will be swept aside by the Magistrate's legions. And then the Dark Guardian will come."
Corpus took a lengthy swig from his flask. Why hold back now?
"The construct is the only hope yes. He must draw out Harbinger in the open, and defeat him. If he follows inside the Star Chamber..."
"We will be destroyed." Quorom said calmly. "Jhartix, you must go. Leave now. We are doomed."
Writ sighed sadly.
"The Law will not save us. The Imperial Magistrate has abandoned reason for madness."
"Old fool!" Gavel roared. "The Imperial Magistrate has long been mad- you never chose to accept it!"
"Why would he?" Corpus said heatedly. "Always ensconced in his books. They won't save you now, will they Writ?"
Writ wilted from the backlash.
"There is yet hope. We cannot surrender in the face of adversity."
Jhartix spoke up:
"Of course, Judge Writ. Forget about the war- now we must think of survival. The Quintex should rally its honor guards and prepare for the Inquisitor's assault. At some point, Spitz will engage the Dark Guardian."
Gavel nodded.
"Go topside! Our fate does not concern you! Take that construct and destroy the Dark Guardian!"
The Quintex left their daises and levitated into their Chambers to prepare the final barricade. Jhartix, haggard, turned to Spitz.
"This is the final battle. We must go."
Spitz stood respectfully as the judges exited, then turned to follow his friend.
"You are right Jhartix. We shall go, and quickly - for time seems to have caught up with us. And I will destroy Harbinger or be destroyed in the process.
But tell me now before we leave, is there nothing more that we can do at the moment to prevent any harm from befalling these four?"
"You are right Jhartix. We shall go, and quickly - for time seems to have caught up with us. And I will destroy Harbinger or be destroyed in the process.
But tell me now before we leave, is there nothing more that we can do at the moment to prevent any harm from befalling these four?"
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Jhartix sighed as he began to leave the Chamber.
"If our efforts for destroying Harbinger are successful, the Imperial Magistrate will lose valuable time. And even though they all bluster, they have many, many troops at their disposal. Some of the other Magistrates may decide to throw in with them, and add their own legions for sheer sport. We should not be too concerned."
Jhartix smiled a rictus grin.
"If the Inquisitor leads the final assault to the Star Chamber, he will be in for a surprise. Judge Gavel will not surrender easily."
"If our efforts for destroying Harbinger are successful, the Imperial Magistrate will lose valuable time. And even though they all bluster, they have many, many troops at their disposal. Some of the other Magistrates may decide to throw in with them, and add their own legions for sheer sport. We should not be too concerned."
Jhartix smiled a rictus grin.
"If the Inquisitor leads the final assault to the Star Chamber, he will be in for a surprise. Judge Gavel will not surrender easily."
Spitz couldn't help a mischievious chuckle as he walked alongside Jhartix. "No, I imagine not. Judge Gavel strikes me as being quite an obst... ur... quite a stubborn Quintesson." He caught himself and grinned a bit sheepishly, before swallowing again. The excitement and nerves of being captured, meeting the Judges and the upcoming confrontation had set off a reaction he was trying his hardest to keep under control.
The burning sensation was creeping up his throat again and he quivered trying to squelch it. Suddenly, he remembered the caution he was trained to follow in the hallways, and abruptly tucked his head in obedience to the directives, though revulsion swept over him again for having to respond to slave commands. Heat immediately started radiating from his sides as his engines began to respond to the fight and battle lust that resided deep in his programming. He swallowed again, tempering the reaction with the knowledge that Jhartix was too close to him and he had to protect his Quintesson friend.
"Jhartix, is it much farther to where they are?" Spitz asked quietly after a bit. "I'm having trouble controlling the reaction between the new forms and my programming base. They're very strong. I don't know how much longer I can delay the signals."
The burning sensation was creeping up his throat again and he quivered trying to squelch it. Suddenly, he remembered the caution he was trained to follow in the hallways, and abruptly tucked his head in obedience to the directives, though revulsion swept over him again for having to respond to slave commands. Heat immediately started radiating from his sides as his engines began to respond to the fight and battle lust that resided deep in his programming. He swallowed again, tempering the reaction with the knowledge that Jhartix was too close to him and he had to protect his Quintesson friend.
"Jhartix, is it much farther to where they are?" Spitz asked quietly after a bit. "I'm having trouble controlling the reaction between the new forms and my programming base. They're very strong. I don't know how much longer I can delay the signals."
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Jhartix led them both to an open antechamber, where at a distance the Imperial Magistrate was addressing wave after wave of Sharkticon troops. Primacron stood next to him, along with Judge Quota, and behind them stood the massive Harbinger.
"...and know this, my Legions! The Quintex will attack you with everything they have. But now that your Cause is Just, your Master is Just, and the Quintex is the Enemy."
The Inquisitor, tentacles waving in a fevered pitch, levitated in front of the troops. He himself would lead them.
"All Hail the Imperial Magistate!"
The Sharkticons, in robot mode, waved their tail maces in salute, then transformed to shark mode.
The Inquisitor faced his troops.
"To the Star Chamber! The Quintex's charge: treason! Sentence: Death!"
The Sharkticons stamped, snarled, and hooted with glee. The Inquisitor clove through the Sharkticon horde and left the chamber first, followed by the rows of Sharkticons.
"The die is cast," The Imperial Magistrate rasped.
"With your superior numbers, you cannot fail," Quota said, with a sniff.
"Bah, the Quintex have manged to seize control of the Allagatorcons. Their higher intelligence may prove our undoing!" Primacron shrieked.
"Wave tactics, fool!" the Quintesson leader thundered. "Yes, perhaps Gavel's Allagatorcons have a better grasp of strategy and tactics, but led by the Inquisitor-and with the sheer numbers of Sharkticons- they will be overwhelmed..."
****
Jhartix whsipered to Spitz from the hidden alcove.
"This is a most positive sign, my young construct. If Judge Gavel has managed to seize control of the Allagatorcon database, victory might be had yet."
****
A few hundred feet away, Harbinger suddenly turned.
"Enemy detected," he rumbled. "Vital signs indicate...a Transformer," he hissed, optics narrowing.
"Impossible! What Transformer could be left!" Primacron squeaked.
"Don't you remember watching the Inquisitor's film!" the Imperial Magistrate rounded on Primacron.
"Of course- it's the rogue scientist, Jhartix's slave," Quota said.
"The warrior!" Primacron cringed.
"No matter- Harbinger- search and destroy!" Judge Quota said airily. The Imperial Magistrate scowled.
"Let us away- Harbinger, bring me that slave's head... vaporize the rest," the Imperial Magistrate commanded, and with that the three elites left the room through a back door.
Harbinger nodded, and flexed his grappler hand, and charged his massive arm cannon.
"By your command," he rumbled, and began clanking toward the door where Jhartix and Spitz were located.
****
Jhartix turned to Spitz, ashen.
"This is it, Spitz. I have faith in you. Go now, and save the Quintesson Dominion from itself."
"...and know this, my Legions! The Quintex will attack you with everything they have. But now that your Cause is Just, your Master is Just, and the Quintex is the Enemy."
The Inquisitor, tentacles waving in a fevered pitch, levitated in front of the troops. He himself would lead them.
"All Hail the Imperial Magistate!"
The Sharkticons, in robot mode, waved their tail maces in salute, then transformed to shark mode.
The Inquisitor faced his troops.
"To the Star Chamber! The Quintex's charge: treason! Sentence: Death!"
The Sharkticons stamped, snarled, and hooted with glee. The Inquisitor clove through the Sharkticon horde and left the chamber first, followed by the rows of Sharkticons.
"The die is cast," The Imperial Magistrate rasped.
"With your superior numbers, you cannot fail," Quota said, with a sniff.
"Bah, the Quintex have manged to seize control of the Allagatorcons. Their higher intelligence may prove our undoing!" Primacron shrieked.
"Wave tactics, fool!" the Quintesson leader thundered. "Yes, perhaps Gavel's Allagatorcons have a better grasp of strategy and tactics, but led by the Inquisitor-and with the sheer numbers of Sharkticons- they will be overwhelmed..."
****
Jhartix whsipered to Spitz from the hidden alcove.
"This is a most positive sign, my young construct. If Judge Gavel has managed to seize control of the Allagatorcon database, victory might be had yet."
****
A few hundred feet away, Harbinger suddenly turned.
"Enemy detected," he rumbled. "Vital signs indicate...a Transformer," he hissed, optics narrowing.
"Impossible! What Transformer could be left!" Primacron squeaked.
"Don't you remember watching the Inquisitor's film!" the Imperial Magistrate rounded on Primacron.
"Of course- it's the rogue scientist, Jhartix's slave," Quota said.
"The warrior!" Primacron cringed.
"No matter- Harbinger- search and destroy!" Judge Quota said airily. The Imperial Magistrate scowled.
"Let us away- Harbinger, bring me that slave's head... vaporize the rest," the Imperial Magistrate commanded, and with that the three elites left the room through a back door.
Harbinger nodded, and flexed his grappler hand, and charged his massive arm cannon.
"By your command," he rumbled, and began clanking toward the door where Jhartix and Spitz were located.
****
Jhartix turned to Spitz, ashen.
"This is it, Spitz. I have faith in you. Go now, and save the Quintesson Dominion from itself."
Spitz scowled at the sight of the rows of sharkticons and then clentched his fists in pure hatred as he noted the Imperial Magistrate. He tensed and then got a look that smacked of determination and a driving, but calculating- force.
The gentler nature was being forced away. Fury was boiling within his circuits and it was intensifying into a very cold and collected manner. Battle drive tempered with the need to protect, the desire to overwhelm and conquer mingling with the knowledge that to fail now would mean the cost of lives.
Take one life and protect many. Overcome and conquer for greater glory and peace. Take down the oppressor.
Spitz took a hand and without taking his eyes off the approaching Harbinger, gently rested the knuckles of it momentarily against Jhartix's side. "Go to safety Jhartix. I will do what I can here."
He stepped forward and darted to the right side of the chamber. Nothing was left of his sense of humor now. The memories of gladatorial combats and the time he had spent among the Decepticons ran rampant in his central processors and procured his battle knowledge- borne on experiences. Within moments, he began grasping the chamber layout and structure, possible sniper areas and began sizing up Harbinger.
Why couldn't they have made him small- like the M-class group? Spitz wondered to himself, even as he studied Harbinger's weaponry. Heat was radiating around him as he ran in an arc. Behind him, floor tiles steamed. Inside him, the heat was welling, brewing and boiling. For hours he had held it back, barely, and kept it in check from determination. And with Harbinger approaching, he stopped fighting the intense personality inside.
The gentler nature was being forced away. Fury was boiling within his circuits and it was intensifying into a very cold and collected manner. Battle drive tempered with the need to protect, the desire to overwhelm and conquer mingling with the knowledge that to fail now would mean the cost of lives.
Take one life and protect many. Overcome and conquer for greater glory and peace. Take down the oppressor.
Spitz took a hand and without taking his eyes off the approaching Harbinger, gently rested the knuckles of it momentarily against Jhartix's side. "Go to safety Jhartix. I will do what I can here."
He stepped forward and darted to the right side of the chamber. Nothing was left of his sense of humor now. The memories of gladatorial combats and the time he had spent among the Decepticons ran rampant in his central processors and procured his battle knowledge- borne on experiences. Within moments, he began grasping the chamber layout and structure, possible sniper areas and began sizing up Harbinger.
Why couldn't they have made him small- like the M-class group? Spitz wondered to himself, even as he studied Harbinger's weaponry. Heat was radiating around him as he ran in an arc. Behind him, floor tiles steamed. Inside him, the heat was welling, brewing and boiling. For hours he had held it back, barely, and kept it in check from determination. And with Harbinger approaching, he stopped fighting the intense personality inside.
-
Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
"Present arms!" Judge Gavel thundered, in the massive ante room of the Star Chabmer.
The hundreds of Alligatorcons put their prod lances at battle ready position.
The clanks and growls of the Sharkticons were heard down the hall.
"Brethren," Judge Writ said, face wan, "we now face the true test!"
"Oh, shut up Writ," Gavel said, smiling. "This is what life is all about! Battle!"
Corpus, with his lone Sharkticon equirry, also stood firm. Judge Quorom also stood with the line.
The door opened.
And there stood the Inquisitor and his legions of Sharkticons.
"Gavel," the Inquisitor hissed.
"Inquisitor," Judge Gavel rumbled.
"Execute them!" the Inquisistor screamed, lashing his tentacles and hurling himself upon Judge Gavel.
"Attack!" Gavel replied hoarsley as he rammed the Inquisitor with his ovoid body.
The Allagatorcons and Sharkticons flew at each other in a fury.
"Go, Gnaw," Judge Corpus said.
The Sharkticon equirry smiled, an proceeded to bludgeon three Sharkticons with his tail mace who had tried to kill his master.
"Gnaw kill bad Sharkticons," he said brightly, transforming to his alt mode and biting off another rogue's face.
The carnage began poshaste, to the sounds of shouts, screams, smashing maces, spearing lances, and slashing claws and fangs.
****
Jhartix nodded, and fled the chamber as Spitz touched him.
"May the Fates protect you, my boy," he said softly. And was gone.
***
Harbinger watched as the Enemy darted about, as if speed would pehaps save its miserable life.
He charged up his cannon nevertheless, and clamped his grappling claw in preparaion for the "struggle".
"Surrender, and your termination will be quick," the Dark Guardian rumbled, not moving yet. "Rejection of this offer means negotiations will be terminated, and you will be hunted."
The hundreds of Alligatorcons put their prod lances at battle ready position.
The clanks and growls of the Sharkticons were heard down the hall.
"Brethren," Judge Writ said, face wan, "we now face the true test!"
"Oh, shut up Writ," Gavel said, smiling. "This is what life is all about! Battle!"
Corpus, with his lone Sharkticon equirry, also stood firm. Judge Quorom also stood with the line.
The door opened.
And there stood the Inquisitor and his legions of Sharkticons.
"Gavel," the Inquisitor hissed.
"Inquisitor," Judge Gavel rumbled.
"Execute them!" the Inquisistor screamed, lashing his tentacles and hurling himself upon Judge Gavel.
"Attack!" Gavel replied hoarsley as he rammed the Inquisitor with his ovoid body.
The Allagatorcons and Sharkticons flew at each other in a fury.
"Go, Gnaw," Judge Corpus said.
The Sharkticon equirry smiled, an proceeded to bludgeon three Sharkticons with his tail mace who had tried to kill his master.
"Gnaw kill bad Sharkticons," he said brightly, transforming to his alt mode and biting off another rogue's face.
The carnage began poshaste, to the sounds of shouts, screams, smashing maces, spearing lances, and slashing claws and fangs.
****
Jhartix nodded, and fled the chamber as Spitz touched him.
"May the Fates protect you, my boy," he said softly. And was gone.
***
Harbinger watched as the Enemy darted about, as if speed would pehaps save its miserable life.
He charged up his cannon nevertheless, and clamped his grappling claw in preparaion for the "struggle".
"Surrender, and your termination will be quick," the Dark Guardian rumbled, not moving yet. "Rejection of this offer means negotiations will be terminated, and you will be hunted."
"Surrender is never an option!"
Spitz snarled at Harbinger as his battle systems activated. A pair of photon guns emerged from his forearms and he sighted them onto Harbinger with laser beam scopes and opened fire. His intensity was building. A thirst had begun which was growing by the moment, and the change so long stifled began to take place. From his back, his jet wings began to unfold and the guide flaps slid up revealing silvery metallic feathers that glowed from their transluscent shafts laden with burning jet fuel. The air around Spitz distorted the outline of his body just slightly as the heat radiating off of him stirred the area immediately next to him.
"Let's go Harbinger! You will find hunting another is not so easy when you, yourself are the one being hunted, but I promise you I will make your termination as quick as possible!"
Spitz snarled at Harbinger as his battle systems activated. A pair of photon guns emerged from his forearms and he sighted them onto Harbinger with laser beam scopes and opened fire. His intensity was building. A thirst had begun which was growing by the moment, and the change so long stifled began to take place. From his back, his jet wings began to unfold and the guide flaps slid up revealing silvery metallic feathers that glowed from their transluscent shafts laden with burning jet fuel. The air around Spitz distorted the outline of his body just slightly as the heat radiating off of him stirred the area immediately next to him.
"Let's go Harbinger! You will find hunting another is not so easy when you, yourself are the one being hunted, but I promise you I will make your termination as quick as possible!"
-
Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
Harbinger actually took two steps backward, rocking the corridor in the process, as Spitz transformed.
The Dark Guardian fought down a sense of shock. He narrowed his blood-red optics in fury at the intense amount of heat radiating off the robot. What was this a trick?
And then the lasers slammed into his torso, causing the larger robot to careen into the back wall.
Snarling, Harbinger smashed his grappling arm into the wall next to him. His beautiful chest armor was blackened and marred.
"Harbinger is hunted by none! Harbinger shall bring your doom!" And with that, Harbinger rushed forward, grappling claw open, and at the same time the larger construct fired a massive blast from his arm cannon towards the combat-ready Spitz.
The Dark Guardian fought down a sense of shock. He narrowed his blood-red optics in fury at the intense amount of heat radiating off the robot. What was this a trick?
And then the lasers slammed into his torso, causing the larger robot to careen into the back wall.
Snarling, Harbinger smashed his grappling arm into the wall next to him. His beautiful chest armor was blackened and marred.
"Harbinger is hunted by none! Harbinger shall bring your doom!" And with that, Harbinger rushed forward, grappling claw open, and at the same time the larger construct fired a massive blast from his arm cannon towards the combat-ready Spitz.
"You'll be bringing it on a platter made from your scrapped body!" Spitz retorted as the dark Guardian recovered and fired a blast at him. Spitz saw the blast and narrowly dodged the direct hit, but the blast knocked him backwards into the wall and sent steel shrapnel from the floor tiles spiking into his body. The stinging sensation infuriated him, and yet, something was wrong. He felt it. He didn't know how to transform fully, and the fury from the loss of control inside him was building and waiting to get out.
Must get control of it! He allowed himself the single quick thought as he blinked and recovered.
He got to his feet and aimed his lasers again as he saw the giant black claw of Harbinger closing in.
Must get control of it! He allowed himself the single quick thought as he blinked and recovered.
He got to his feet and aimed his lasers again as he saw the giant black claw of Harbinger closing in.
-
Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
Harbinger smirked slightly as he saw the smaller robot flung backward, and took a grim delight in the damage wrought by the shrapnel.
As Spitz recovered, Harbinger lept upward, and with claw arm outstretched, came down near Spitz.
As his claw arm opened more fully, Harbinger said:
"Prepare for extermination!"
As Spitz recovered, Harbinger lept upward, and with claw arm outstretched, came down near Spitz.
As his claw arm opened more fully, Harbinger said:
"Prepare for extermination!"
Spitz looked at the cold black transformer coming at him and then he felt a change. For the briefest moment, his optics went dark as his form shifted. His arms locked into place alongside his body in recessed areas. A long neck and a fierce head swung up from being concealed below his chest and covered his own. The jet tail swung down from his back and panels swiveled and split to reveal more metallic feathers, while his legs folded and split into raptor feet spiked with talons. He felt the form, and realized again that it felt like an almost separate entity. Without his intending to, the large bird pulled its head back and hissed, sending a plasma ball at Harbinger. Jet fuel had begun to course through the tips to the feather shafts and to the surface, giving a glossy fluid appearance to the form.
Simultaneously, Spitz felt the claw closing in and mindfully beat his wings at it, trying to take off. The wing movement sent tiny droplet sprays of fuel into the air about him as the claw closed and caught his left leg.
Below, the floor tiles had melted and steam wafted up around.
Simultaneously, Spitz felt the claw closing in and mindfully beat his wings at it, trying to take off. The wing movement sent tiny droplet sprays of fuel into the air about him as the claw closed and caught his left leg.
Below, the floor tiles had melted and steam wafted up around.