Tales of the Intermezzo - Night Watchman A Transformers Universe Story copyright 1998 by Dave Van Domelen based on properties owned by Hasbro ============================================================================= "intermezzo - n. A brief entertainment between two acts of a play." - American Heritage Dictionary "Wow, lookit all the cool stuff," a somewhat spaced-out voice mused as thin beams of light flashed out from a trio of figures to play over various pieces of the past. They were in the gallery of a museum, that much was obvious. "Be careful," hissed a slightly squatter figure who seemed to be the leader. "We don't want to leave any sign of our presence, or they'll know something happened and start investigating. Thanks to Gan's vandalous proclivities," he nodded to the third member of the trio, "we got enough spray paint to disguise our colors, but we can't pass a more detailed inspection." "I don't get it," whined Gan, the third figure. "I do all the hard work boosting the taggers, I'm gonna have ta cart off the junk from here, and I don't get to hide with you?" "Yeah, why doesn't he get to hide too?" asked the spacey figure. The leader sighed a sigh that said, "this is the fifteenth time I'm going to explain this." "One, there's no exhibit here he could replace. Two, he'd blow our cover the first time someone walked underneath...even YOU know he can't pass up the chance to pull a practical joke on someone." "Awwwwww, I can behave, Jack," the accused prankster whined. "No, Gan," the leader said sternly. "Your drive to play pranks exceeds your instinct for self-preservation. I'm amazed you've lasted this long, and I'm NOT going to have you jeopardize our chances of success. At least Ace can be counted on to shut down and stay shut down..." "He hardly does anything else," Gan muttered. "...but I want you out in the desert bunker. I've placed a memory lock on you so you can't betray us if you MUST go out and get caught, but at least this way no one will immediately think to look for us here," Jack firmly finished. They reached a particular part of the gallery and stopped. Jack gestured at two of the exhibits. "Careful now, pull these down and hold them steady so I can slice them up with my minitorch. Then all we have to do is stuff the pieces into this subspace container and Gan can sneak them out and dump them in the ocean." The next few minutes passed silently save for the hiss of Jack's torch, cutting the exhibits down into pieces the size of his forearm. A few times he had to shoot Gan a warning glance, or nudge Ace to keep him from wandering off, but it went down more smoothly than most operations Jack could recall the trio being involved in. "Hey, what's going...on?" A very startled night watchman had entered the gallery, hearing what he thought might be vandals...after all, nothing in that wing was really worth stealing. Nothing that could be carried out without heavy machinery, anyway. So he was quite surprised to see three Decepticon warriors standing in the main gallery of the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum.... * * * * "Check out the jets, man!" one teenager shouted to his friends, pointing up at the fuselages hanging from the ceiling. "That's one of the old 'Wobbly Goblin' stealth fighters used back in the 1990s...and there's an X-29, painted all in prototype primer white. And there's the Apollo capsule!" "Whatever, Chad," sighed one of his friends, a small cluster which had broken away from the main field trip group. "Ancient history, BOOOORING. They mighta been cool when our grandparents were kids, but, I mean, they can't even make into space on their own! What's so neat about atmospheric jets?" "Really," snorted a third. "I'm more interested in the rumors that this place is haunted." "Haunted," Chad cocked his head to one side. "Whaddyamean, haunted?" "Well," the teenager lowered his voice to a conspiratorial stage- whisper, "it all started about thirty years ago, when one of the security guards just vanished without a trace one night. Ever since then, the other guards swear they hear strange noises when they're on their rounds, and some even claim to have seen the ghost of the guard walking the gallery after midnight, on a lonely patrol he'll never finish," the boy's voice cracked, ruining the eerie effect he'd been shooting for. "Yeah, right," Chad chuckled. "There's no such thing as ghosts. Next thing you'll be telling me that the F-117 up there is actually a Decepticon in disguise, who just happened to avoid the round-up after the War and decided to hide in plain sight. I bet those security guards are just making things up to try and impress the tourists." * * Up in the rafters, Skyjack suppressed a mental chuckle. Some of Hooligan's penchant for trickery must have rubbed off on him, because he had to resist the urge to project the holographic "ghost" he had created and frighten the organic grubs. Sometimes Space Case forgot he was supposed to be shut down, and the ghost was a handy cover for the noises the dimwitted Cyberjet made before Skyjack could quiet him down. Curious creatures, these organics. They believed in the supernatural, yet were embarrassed to admit they did...which made the "ghost" such an excellent tool. Those who saw it accepted it as explanation for any strange sounds or movement, but they wouldn't report it to their superiors for fear of being thought superstitious or insane. The grubs had moved on to some other distraction, and Skyjack returned to his meditations. The ruse had worked for several vorn, during which Skyjack had managed to infiltrate this mudball's primitive communications network from his position as a museum piece. It might take several vorn more, but eventually that network would be advanced enough for Skyjack to leave his body behind. On that day, he'd place a permanent lock on Space Case's mind, to keep him quiet against the day he needed a physical ally. He could also arrange for their bodies to be placed in safer storage at that time. The Decepticons had lost the war. But while Skyjack was a rather young Cybertronian, he was a student of history...no side ever really lost the war for long. Eventually the Decepticons or their successors would be back, and Skyjack would be ready to hand the world over to them. They also serve who lie in wait.... ============================================================================ Author's Notes: The tale of the Cyberjets was requested, and while I normally don't do requests, I had an idea before I even closed the email, so I wrote this story. I realized I could cover another type of fate here...those who actually managed to stay on Earth. Skyjack seemed to be the sort who would try such a plan, sneaky stealther that he is. And he has enough contempt for his teammates to cast them aside in order to assure his own safety. By the way, Hooligan's jet form is an F-23 body with F-111 wings, so there's no way he could credibly hide in the Smithsonian. He probably got caught within weeks, unable to stay hidden, but Skyjack doesn't really care. Finally, the title of the story is a double reference. On the surface it refers to the poor security guard who got stuffed into the subspace container. However, it also applies to Skyjack himself, keeping an eye on things during the long night of the Decepticon Empire....