Transformers: Spacewarp's Log
January 31, 2016
Spacewarp's Log,
Cruising through space, when Foldspace detects a big space battle a couple of parsecs over. I figure, hey, why not check it out? I get into range and who should it be but my new friend Galaxy Shuttle, getting the stuffing beat outta him by Parthinian Raiders. Man, I hate those stupid flying monkeys! Anyway, always good to have an ally, so I transformed and asked my Three Amigos if they'd be so kind as to unite into the Transwarp Blaster mode. With their combined firepower, I made those Wizard of Oz rejects run for the proverbial hills.
Old G.S., he'd detoured at Parthus, drawn by unusual energy readings. He found the crashed remains of an enormous ship, hundreds of miles long, matching no known configuration. Moreover, its transwarp signature indicated that there may be trans-dimensional energy involved. He had just decided to make haste back to Cybertron to let Optimus Prime and Megatron know about it, when the Parthinians decided to get fresh.
Well, this was certainly exciting. Vector Prime noted that he was on an important mission, and couldn't be diverted from it, but asked if I'd investigate. I've kicked the Raiders' collective butts once before, during the whole Spiral Yōkai and the Lattice of Armageddon incident, and figured I could do it again if need be.
That might have been just a BIIIIIIIIIT hasty. I get to Parthus, and they've got a giant armada in space. I'm starting to think that whatever it was that G.S. stumbled upon, it's bigger than a normal salvage op. Luckily I've cut my emissions to zero so they haven't notice me yet. I figure we get a few passive scans and then I skedaddle. Except Boom Tube and Foldspace let me know that the trans-dimensional energy, it's currently undergoing logarithmic decay. Whatever it is that's down there is going to be dead in a few hours. And it's the ONLY indication of something extra-universal we've seen since this whole Shroud nonsense started.
Ok, plan, plan, need a plan. One presents itself when one of the Parthinian battle cruisers heads our way, behind their second moon (by distance from the planet, first by mass). Opportunity knocks. I nudge myself onto an intercept course, jam their signals, and sic my Mini-Cons on them in a boarding party. They take out the simian occupants, and soon I've got a brand new set of battle cruiser shaped clothes. We've still got the captain, tied up and with a weapon to his head, which is enough to persuade him to give us some landing codes. Down we go, to visit the giant tower leaning haphazardly out of the ground.
As impressive as the sensor readings are, seeing the thing up close is just breathtaking. Even swarming with Parthinians, it's like Primus came down and jammed a stake into the ground, extending on into infinity. The engineering requirements behind it just boggle the imagination. It's definitely technological, gleaming metal tubes and diodes and wires and ductwork every which way. Lights race across its surface, forming patterns that I can almost, but not quite, grasp. Whoever or whatever built this, it's clear they're operating at a level far beyond anything I'd ever encountered before.
And it was dying. I'm not sure how I knew that, but I knew it. Something in it reached out to me, and I knew I had to get inside. Fortunately, there were caverns and bays thousands of feet wide, so inside I flew. In all of the chaos of the Parthinian presence profaning this artifact, they never noticed one more craft.
Once inside, I felt something pulling on my Spark, tugging it this way and that. Might as well run with it, I figured. Truthfully, I was in awe. I could tell my companions felt the same way, even Starburst. We flew for at least eighty or ninety miles inside the superstructure before the corridors narrowed to the point where I had to stop and walk. At a couple of points, I even had to crawl through narrow openings. But eventually I arrived at what could only be the heart of the structure. It was a beautiful, flawless diamond, forty feet tall and twenty feet wide at its middle, cut and polished into a million facets. It was suffused with a gentle blue glow, and I put my hand on it without thinking.
"So," it rumbled in my laser core, "you have come. I hoped/prayed you would."
"Who are you," I asked.
"You may call me Physis. Before the multiverse/megaverse was, I was."
I felt more than words could communicate. "You're... you're dying."
"Well observed, little one. There has been a change in the underlying substrata/conception of time/space/thought/matter, and this reality I find myself in has been impacted/changed unusually vigorously. This aspect of me/myself/I can no longer touch/feel/grasp the greater whole that is me/myself/I/Physis and is thus fated to perish/expire/die."
An infinite sadness welled up inside me. "What can I do?"
"Nothing/everything. The death/fatality/termination is inevitable. But to leave behind my husk/corpse/body/derelict for these scurrying/curious/inquisitive/malicious/petty/insignificant beings to use is unacceptable/negative/unfortunate/regrettable. I ask that you hasten-my-demise/put-me-out-of-my-misery/euthanize-me/pull-the-plug."
I broke contact for a moment. The crystalline entity before me was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And a little, niggling part of me told me that it might be exactly what Megatron needed to punch through the Shroud. I touched it again. "I'm sorry... I don't think I can."
"You must. The thought/doubt/notion you encountered just now, it will occur to others. This shard/aspect of me is not me/all-of-me/my-entirety. To end this fragment would be a mercy/blessing/kindness."
I wasn't even sure if I could, physically could. "How?"
"In a moment, I shall lower/drop the energy field that protects this-crystal/me/my-soul. If your companions/partners/friends combine into their weapon configuration, I can alter/influence/reprogram their blast to make it powerful-enough/strong-enough to be mercifully fatal/lethal/deadly."
I looked to them, and each of them nodded in turn. And so, they did, and the blue glow vanished, and I swallowed, and I pulled the trigger. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then cracks started to appear, one by one, and then there was an explosion, and we were blown back. Even as it happened, the blue glow enveloped US, or we'd have been disintegrated. As it was, I felt that blow, and probably need about a week in a body shop.
The entire superstructure began to rumble, and I knew that it was going to shake itself apart in the next few hours. I got ready to run, but then the voice came back. "Thank you Spacewarp/adventurer/pirate/friend, for doing what needed to be done while there was yet time/opportunity. This is a recording/ghost/message-in-a-bottle. In five-minutes/300-seconds/299,792-kilometers, a portal will open that can take you back to your home/origin/dimension-of-record. You may take it or you may stay/remain, but this will surely be the last/final chance to depart this place/plane/reality/sphere. Use the time I've given you to make your choice/decision."
So, that's where I am. Clock ticking. And that's the dilemma. There's five of us, so we're going to vote, no abstentions. I've made some amazing friends here, and it's certainly an interesting Cybertron. But I'm not sure if I want to commit to never seeing my own again. If you don't hear from me again, it's been grand. Be safe, don't take any jobs I wouldn't take, yadda yadda yadda. Watch your afterburners, and always live life to the fullest. I certainly have.
Spacewarp's Log, out!
