Silent Fish

[koilungfish]

13/1/07 - Slammers

          "Get some shut-down, lad," Kup said, as the Decepticon searchlights peered in through the breach in the wall and painted the little room white for a second. Kup was lost in the shadow on the other side of the breach; outside, night was falling quietly save for the drone of Decepticon engines criss-crossing, searching. "We're not going anywhere tonight."
          "I'll watch the other half of the night," Hot Rod insisted, settling down in amongst the wall-debris on the opposite side of the breach from Kup.
          The old campaigner nodded silently, resting his musket across his knees, looking out into the wasteground where the Decepticons watched back, waiting for a sign of movement. "Get some rest," was all he said.
          Hot Rod kept still and quiet, listening to the sound of the Decepticon patrols backtracking and re-quartering. He notched his systems down, one by one, until he was on the threshold of shutdown. One of Cybertron's moons crested the horizon and added to the dim light of three others, dividing the room into shadow, light and shadow again. At either end of the room the doorways were utterly dark, choked with debris. The ground ticked and creaked quietly as it cooled. The Decepticon patrols faded into the distance, leaving the night almost silent. Hot Rod could hear near nothing, just the background burble on the radio and the ting-crik-ping of the settling ground.
          Beneath them the ground shuddered with a raw scraping, as if a mammoth blade was being drawn along the ceiling of the room below. Hot Rod jolt to his feet with a cry, gun out, his sounds muffled by the ringing echoes of the terrible sound from below.
          "Quiet," Kup whispered, on his feet with his own gun ready.
          Below the scrape began again, long and loud and hard, ending in a sound like a heavy object falling to the floor. In the slience afterwards, Hot Rod heard a distant pounding of metal on metal, felt the vibrations coming through the floor. The room was singing with echoes, with vibrations from underground.
          "Decepticons!" he hissed, turning to the breach. The pounding was growing louder, heavier, jolting little bits of rubble around.
          "Not likely," Kup said softly, motioning him to stand fast as the walls began to shudder, making a thrumming din of their own.
          There were footsteps overhead, Decepticon voices.
          "Hear that?" said one, as the great scraping started again. Hot Rod could feel the floor flexing, feeling being pushed up under his feet, then the heavy boom of impact.
          "Oo'eck," said another. "Slammers!"
          "Slammers," Kup breathed.
          The wall behind them started to ring with a terrific din, a pounding of feet and fists and bodies and heads against a wall that had to yield, had to, because it could never hold against such a loud and terrible onslaught, and with it the screaming. It was the screaming of metal on metal, of tortured joints bending against design, a hammering rhythm of beating and shrieking and suddenly it stopped. Hot Rod back away, seeking Kup's gaze, wanting to flee despite knowing the Decepticons were outside.
          "Let's go," said the first Decepticon. "Let's - Chokehold?"
          Kup looked up at the ceiling, at where the Decepticon must be standing, almost over their heads. Below the great scraping, tearing, ripping sound came again, and again the terrible slam as of something intensely heavy falling to the floor. Hot Rod shuddered, and stepped back against the broken wall.
          "Chokehold? Chokehold, where are you?"
          An impact like a detonation hit the wall to Hot Rod's right, and all at once the pounding began again, a furious frenzied beating against the debris blocking the door. The room on the other side of the wall was full of vibration and fury, of bodies beating themselves against the wall, of angry sound trying to reach them.
          "Chokehold? Chokehold!"
          Hot Rod pressed against the wall, feeling the rabid hammering as the whole room shook, as the debris blocking the door shuddered and, piece by piece, began to slip down. Below the terrible ripping noise began again, the walls were thrumming, the floor was shaking, at the top of the doorway a dark gap was opening.
          A thin flicker of movement, something narrow whipped through the gap and groped blindly for a second.
          Hot Rod couldn't move, couldn't look away, couldn't do anything because the pounding was shaking him, was shaking his hands. The floor ripped open as the tip of a huge blade tore down the middle of the room, opening the way to a cacophony of hammering, of gibbering shrieks of metal in torment.
          "Chokehold! Answer me!"
          Kup levelled his musket with the dark in the door, where the hammering was making the whole room flex, where the beating of a thousand fists was heaviest, paused a second, and fired.
          Hot Rod saw the shot streak past like a lance, heard the shot clean and clear amongst the frenzy of sound.
          Silence fell.
          There was moonlight, and shadow, and a gouge that ran from one end of the room to the other. Overhead, the Decepticon was whimpering softly.
          Kup beckoned to Hot Rod. "Time to take your first prisoner, son."


Final Version Posted