Tales of the Intermezzo: AKA Primal A Transformers Universe Story copyright 1999 by Dave Van Domelen characters and settings are TM Hasbro/Takara ============================================================================ "intermezzo - n. A brief entertainment between two acts of a play." - American Heritage Dictionary "Optimus Prime, literally the 'first' and the 'best' of the Autobots. His sacrifices made sure there would still be a Cybertron for the Maximals and Predacons to inherit after the Great War ended. In memory of him, we choose the best of the Maximals to wear the title 'Optimus' as a sign of the courage and conviction they bear on the inside," the commandant said, almost unconsciously brushing the Maximal symbol he wore on his chest. "Every one of you has the potential to earn the name of Optimus," he continued. "Whether you're old veterans come back from the field to rise to the officer corps, or promising young protoforms, you have all passed the initial tests of skill and character. Even if you fail here, the very fact you've made it this far stands you in good stead and impressive company. But here is where we find you have the fire inside needed to be a great leader. If you have it, we can teach you to harness it. If you don't...well, not everyone was born to lead." * * * * "So, Cadet, what's your name?" asked a stocky green and gold robot wearing an instructor's badge. "RX-6," he replied. "I...haven't picked a regular name yet. My spark only came online a few cycles ago." "Hurm, yeah, that sometimes happens. A spark gets tagged right out of the Matrix for a leadership job. Fine, RX-6, just don't depend on being able to call yourself Optimus." Another voice from in the room barked a laugh. "Why not? He's got the face for it, look at the helmet! Someone must have thought he was the second coming or something!" "Pipe down, Big Shot," the instructor growled. "I know you're used to shooting your mouth off, not to mention other parts, but leadership's about more than shouting." The olive-colored Maximal grinned and stepped back into rank. "Okay, everyone. I'm Topkick, and I'll be instructing you in basic protocols and technical knowledge...the things you'll need to know just to be on a ship, much less command it. Since a lot of you know these things already, I'll be trying to teach you some manners. Being an Optimus is about more than fighting and flying and tactics...it's about being someone people can look up to. Some of you may make fine warriors, but poor role models," he added, looking sternly at Big Shot. "If I say you don't make the cut, best you can hope for is a commander job in the Convoy program. "Now fall in, we've got a busy day ahead of us!" Topkick ordered. * * * * "Hey, Prime!" Big Shot shouted across the practice field. "Catch!" RX-6 turned and shouted back, "I said not to call me that...!" He was cut off, however, as the dummy grenade exploded, triggering his stasis lock and dropping him to the ground, where he got to watch the rest of the small arms drill from. Afterwards, Topkick ambled over with a shimmering baton. Tapping it against RX-6, he broke the stasis lock. "I think we need to talk, RX-6." Dispirited, the young Maximal followed Topkick back inside while the others headed off to Military History class. No sooner had Topkick sat down than RX-6 blurted out, "I know I let myself be distracted, I shouldn't let Big Shot get to me like that...the Preds won't stop at taunts, after all." Topkick waved for him to sit. "Yes, that's a problem, RX-6, but it's only a symptom. If this were really about your combat reactions, I wouldn't be talking to you, your combat instructor would be." "Then...what? Have I washed out?" "No, not yet," Topkick replied, his voice low and slow and somewhat sorrowful. "But if you keep holding back, you might be." "Sir...?" "RX-6, I've been watching you these past few decacycles. You're very competent. Your datatrax contain much more in terms of skills and knowledge than the average protoform's, and you're certainly cool under fire. Most of the time, anyway," he cast a glance out towards the practice field. "But you're too controlled, just like Big Shot isn't controlled enough. Unfortunately, if you had to know which if you I thought would be the better commander, right now I'd say Big Shot in a nanoclick. He needs discipline, yes, but that can be trained into him. It might take him twice as long to earn his title, he might have to drop into the Convoy program instead, but he's going to be a leader on some level, some day. He has that fire inside, the burning drive that needs to be harnessed in order for anyone to be a great leader. Because sometimes there's no room for thinking, you have to go with your spark." RX-6 let the silence hang for a moment. "How can I get this fire?" Topkick shook his head. "I can't answer that. I don't even know if you can get it if you don't already have it...I've certainly never picked it up. Not even when my partner Skyfall died in the Great War...I just thought to myself that he would have survived if he'd just followed my advice. Changed my name, changed my body, but I'm still too much of a thinker. In fact, about the only reason I'm leading you cadets is that the Council wanted us combat veterans in training positions until things could be brought back up to speed...first chance I get, I'm signing up for a scientific mission somewhere," he mused. "My point is," he shifted back to his original track, "you're holding it in too much, whatever 'it' is in your case. You'll never know if that's a fire inside you or just an itch until you cut loose. Don't be afraid of yourself, of your own passion. It can be dangerous, yes, but it's better to know yourself now than look back with regret a million cycles down the line." * * * * Tactical simulation exercise. RX-6 and the others were all leading small squads of drones through a carefully broken section of Cybertron. "Carefully" because all the truly dangerous surprises had been removed or fixed up, and the shattered buildings were actually safer than most new structures. But it made for a good training area. Topkick had said that in later exercises there would be devices scattered through the ruins to simulate collapses and other environmental hazards, deactivating drone troops at random to give would-be commanders experience with unexpected losses. "Sweep pattern alpha," RX-6 ordered, and his drones moved forwards in staggered clumps through the open area. Careful, meticulous...controlled. He could hear a commotion up ahead where two units had come face to face and someone had decided to make it a skirmish. Too far ahead, though. Whatever the mysterious goal was, the winner of that skirmish would probably get there before him. No way to know who was in the fight, though. A damper field stopped communicators and long range sensors from working. "Cancel that. Rapid advance, all sensors sweeping ahead except units four and five, sweep right and left for ambush." There, that should get them into the mix. RX-6 dashed along behind his troops, casting an occasional glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming up behind him. The drones were pretty stupid, and if he didn't tell them to watch their backs, they'd never notice an attack from behind. Another clearing was ahead, and the light beam of the goal was in view. RX-6 accelerated his pace, moving into the middle of the drones.... "Ha! Got it!" Big Shot boomed as he burst around a corner and stepped into the light beam. His drones were nowhere to be seen...he must have left them behind to foil pursuit. RX-6 stopped abruptly, anticipating the lecture the group would get about acceptable losses and troop management. Then the wall behind Big Shot broke open and a towering figure stepped into view. Patched and scarred as it was, its eyes still glowed with a malevolent red light. "Decepticon!" RX-6 shouted as Big Shot whirled around. "Ah, fresh little Optimuses, the future of the Maximal race," the Decepticon crowed. "Well, you HAVE...NO...FUTURE!" A massive foot raised up to step on Big Shot, who was momentarily frozen by the sight of the giant. After all, who expected to see a full-sized Decepticon on Cybertron in this day and age, much less one in the heart of Maximal territory? "Attack pattern omega!" RX-6 shouted to his drones, who were already halfway to the Decepticon. He'd just ordered a suicide attack. Would he have done so if these were Maximal recruits? By the book, yes...a Decepticon here would have to be stopped at any cost, and most Maximals had nothing capable of stopping a full-sized Cybertronian. The drones flew into the Decepticon's chest and detonated, knocking it back just enough for the giant's foot to miss Big Shot. Big Shot scampered back a bit than dropped to all fours. His transformed mode had been removed at the beginning of training, since he would get a new body at the end, but he still had the massive weaponry on his back that gave him his name. A short volley slammed into the Decepticon, but had little effect. After all, they were loaded with lighter practice rounds, so the trainees wouldn't kill each other. "This is too easy," sneered the Decepticon, brushing the remains of the drones from his chest. He reached down and picked up the prone Big Shot, ignoring the second volley bouncing against his hand. RX-6 froze. His weapons were no use against this warrior. The smart thing to do would be to get out of the com blackout zone and bring reinforcements, people with real weapons who could stop the Decepticon before he rampaged further across Cybertron. But that would mean Big Shot was as good as dead. In fact, his spark would probably be extinguished in less than a nanoclick. Could he let a Maximal die in order to save the greater number? Could he even accept that the choice was a valid one? Big Shot screamed out in agony, and RX-6 knew his answer.... * * * * Topkick picked up the twisted hand in both arms and sighed. "It'll take decacycles to fix this," he looked up at the battered and broken "Decepticon" warrior. Then he looked over at RX-6, who was having his own hands replaced by the medics. "But I guess it was worth it." Big Shot looked over at RX-6 from the next medic wagon, where his legs were being checked for damage. "I've *never* seen anyone tear into something like that, Pr...RX-6," he amended, remembering what the young protoform had just done to the last thing that got him angry. "Like, it was just a mock-up, supposed to give us a scare and hammer home that the unexpected happens, but, well, it ignored everything I could throw at it. And you just tore it apart with your bare hands!" "What's left of them, anyway," RX-6 ruefully nodded at the destroyed manipulators being placed in the medwagon's recycling bin while the repaireons brought over a new set of hands. "And don't call me Prime," he smirked, his tone more commiserating than annoyed. Big Shot chuckled. "No, not after that little display of complete ape-slag insanity. Not Prime. More like...Primal!" he grinned, pleased with himself for the pun. "Here's to Optimus Primal." RX-6 grinned back. "And Big Convoy." "Hey hey HEY! Don't be giving me that...I'll make Optimus before you do, protoform!" Big Shot fired back. Off to the side, Topkick muttered to himself, "Maybe not...." ============================================================================ Author's Notes: Okay, I tackle a lot of characters here, making this installment a little more "fanficky" than most. Optimus Primal, Big Convoy, Rhinox, and the whole idea of Optimus and Convoy being ranks/titles. Of course, maybe Big Shot washed out entirely and became Sureshot. }-> This story actually came out of a title. I decided "AKA Primal" would be a cool name for a story, but had no idea WHAT story. Eventually I decided to make it the story of Primal at OCS (Optimus/Convoy School).