Burnt Bridges: Epilogue
Burnt Bridges: A Five-part saga from the planet Cybertron
Epilogue: The Score at Half-Time...

“Hello Sally.”
The straw-haired girl nearly jumps clean out of her skin. Smiling behind his face grill, the speaker leans his head to one side. Sally’s heart slows a little.
“Oval! Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Clearly.” He walks past her to tap at a nearby computer bank.
“I know I shouldn’t really have come in without saying…”
“I don’t know. You are practically family.”

She looks at him for a long moment.
“No I’m not. You’re just saying that.”
He winces.
“Does it show?”
“When you say it through gritted teeth or whatever, yes. And anyway, I know you.”
His head bobs and he turns back to face her across the darkened control deck. The long view ports that encircle them let in starlight and a deeper darkness.
“Perhaps you do. Somehow you’ve always been…I was going to say ‘more bearable than your brother’ but that sounds terrible, does it not?”
A broad grin spreads across Sally’s face.
“My brother has the emotional maturity of an electro magnet.”
“He feels emotion very intensely.”
“Meh.” She makes a face. “Tell me about it. It was watching them eating each other that drove me over here.”

Oval leans his head the to the other side.
“Misha and Kicker are ‘deeply in love’, as the saying goes.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what doors are for.
“On an Arc?”
“Point. Another reason for coming here. I like the scale better.”
The orange Minicon chuckles and wanders towards the control chair. She has a point. The Autobot ship’s hallways are cavernous even by guzzler standards.
“You should have seen here before we put the extra floors in.”

He settles himself into the chair, relaxing and looking up at the stars. The human girl comes to his side.
“It was a Decep ship, wasn’t it?”
He nods.
“Yep. The Scorpio. Long story. Too long ago to bother with.”
A display lights up, red dots moving across a schematic of the pyramidal ship.
“Not many at home,” Sally comments.
“Nope. Most out helping pick you lot up when you fall over.”
“Like the primitives we are?”
“Like the primitives you are. No offence.”
“None taken.”

Another pause passes.
“I like you too Oval.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised.
“You say what you mean. Evac, Wheeljack, Crosswise, the others – I like ‘em and all that but they’re afraid to let too much slip. Mostly ‘cause it might set Kicker off. They’re careful. You just don’t care.”

He mulls that over before answering.
“I’ve never had much to hide. Not for as long as I’ve been stuck in charge around here. The Autobots mean well but they’re caught up being the great big high-tech aliens among delicate little humans. Me…well, you and I both know we’re more advanced than you lot. We could snap you planet out of the sky like that. But with enough big sticks, you could pound us flat. Primitive doesn’t mean you need protecting all the time.” Oval turns, optic to eye with her. “Why bother being careful? Who gains anything from it?”

She frowns.
“Nothing to hide?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
He sighs.
“There was someone I knew. A friend. Maybe that’s too strong a word…no. No, it’s not. He was a friend. A true, good friend. He did more than he ever knew for us. The only thanks he got was to be chained to Megatron for the rest of his life. He died.” Oval shrugs. “After that…and after we escaped the war only for it to come after us…everything, all the secrets, the sneaking, the deception…didn’t seem worth much.”
“That why you have most of the Minicons looking out for humans?”

He reaches out and ruffles her hair as if she were a toddler.
“No, you silly little primitive. That’s because my advisors are all bleeding sparks who wouldn’t stop pestering me.”
She pulls a face at him and straightens her hair.
“Creep.”
“I try.”

A window on the screen catches her eye.
“What’s that?”
Oval enlarges it for her.
“It’s…a scorecard, really. Just something to keep things organised.”
There are five columns, each headed with bold, square text:

Autobots----Decepticons:Starscream----Decepticons:?----Vector Prime----Minicons

------3---------------2--------------------------0--------------------1-------------0

“Why,” Sally asks, rereading carefully, “are there two Decepticon columns?”
“Because Obsidian and the Constructicons wouldn’t ally themselves with Screamer if he was the only other Decep in reality. They’re probably working for Shockwave or someone like that. Just have to wait and see.”
“Ok. But why put Vector separate from the Autobots?”
Oval does not answer at once. When he does, it was with another question.
“Have you spoken to that scribe of his, Roots?”
“Um, not really…”
“Well I have and there’s something…odd about him. He’s nice and polite, sure, but…” He fishes around for the right words. “It’s like he gives all the right responses but nothing more. Vacant answers. Or secretive ones. Not sure which. But odd. Vector Prime’s no better, for all his high and mighty-ness. He hasn’t even told us where he’s got the Temporal Key stashed. I’m a paranoid old survivalist. That sort of thing makes me suspicious.”

“Uh huh…”
Sally thinks about it.
“Yeah, I see... But at least he’s helping find the Keys before the Deceps get ‘em. Surely you’d rather have them in Autobot hands?”
“No. I’d rather have them in nobody’s hands. These things…they’re too powerful to be safe with anyone, ‘bot or ‘con.”
“Yeah…” The girl trails off and chews her lip. “Dad’d love this stuff. Science that’s like magic, ancient prophecies…he’d be flipping out over it all…”
“Is something wrong?” Oval looks sideways. “You suddenly sound despondent.”

She shakes her head half-heartedly.
“No, it’s just…I was thinking earlier about how long it’s been since we’ve heard from him.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“Not for you! It’s been weeks. I know he gets caught up with work but not even an email…Project C can’t be that involved, can it?”
The Minicon starts to tap at a keyboard.
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.”
Web pages spring up on top of the scorecard, multiplying and morphing with blinding speed. When the process stops, they are left looking at a page titled ‘National Security – Top Secret’.
“Isn’t this supposed to be secure military stuff?” Sally asks playfully.
“Yep. I’d be a poor excuse for an advanced alien life form if I couldn’t hack systems this simple.” He gives her a warning look. “Tell anyone and Kicker gets to know about Damian.”
Her eyes widen.
“You wouldn’t!”
“I would. With pictures.”
“That’s blackmail!”
“Sure is. Ah, got it.”

He runs a finger down the long list of names and titles.
“Jones, Claude, Dr. Xenomorph expect seconded to Section 7 of Project C. Transferred from Oregon site. Current location: Serendipity Base, Nevada.”
“That’s not much help…where’s Serendipity?”
“How should I know?” One click opens a link to information concerning the base in question. “Hm. Doesn’t exactly give map references.”
“‘Under communications lock down’,” Sally reads, “God, dad, what have you done this time?”
“Authorised by one General Franklin,” Oval adds, “and by ‘Professor Julian Acrevale’. Hm. Reasons given for order: experimental necessity.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing to worry about then.”
“I suppose not.”
“You know, I must admit that Evac got this one right. Not letting any technology go ‘till you lot get you heads round the principles behind it.”
“Dad said it could take decades.”
“All the better.”

Clapping his hands, Oval stands up.
“Well, now that’s sorted I think I’ll go and find Sideburn and why are you still looking like that?”
“Um…what do you think’ll happen now? About the other Keys, I mean?”
“Oh, I’d imagine the Autobots will start running around in a blind panic ‘till Prime gets back from Gigalonia and organises things.”
“Be serious!”
“Why? The worse that can happen is that certain bits of the universe come to a sticky end and I’ve been living with that threat for longer than your planet’s supported life.”
“Not very reassuring.”
“And?”
“Just saying.” She jumps down from the control podium. “What you going to do?”
“Advanced alien life form stuff.”
“Right… Hey, Oval?”
“Still here.”
“You forgot the key Jolt grabbed. On you scorecard. You could have put that in the ‘Minicon’ column.”
“Doesn’t count. It’s not a Vector Sigma Key, it’s done zap all since they brought it back here and Jolt likes to think he’s too good to be a ‘mere Minicon’.”
“Oh. Ok.” Oval held the door for her. “Thanks…”
“No need to sound so surprised.”
“Anytime you’re helpful, I get nervous.”
“Miss Jones, you wound me.”
“Call me ‘Miss Jones’ again and I will.”
“Ouch.”

Their voices fade away down the corridor. The stars blink down through the view ports, near reflections of the lights on the consoles. Somewhere in the distance, an engine turns over.

Suddenly, the bridge is even emptier. Had anyone been there, they may have noticed a chill in the air, or a whisper of movement. But no one is, so the increased absence goes unnoticed.

The night deepens.




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