He supposed it was a beautiful planet, in its way, even now after the battles and the energy storms had forever altered its weather patterns. What had been dense jungle replete with leafy foliage, now speared brittle and naked treetrunks toward the sky, a crystalline coating of silence having settled over the entire valley. The ground was dusted with snow, and more of it filtered down softly, like glitter in the dim gray light of evening. The stark beauty of destruction.
It was lost on Galvatron as he made his way down the ravine, toward the deepening shadows that gathered below. To an outside observer he would appear as always, a being whose self-possessed power and ominously fierce intensity was controlled and focused into every deliberate movement. Each step, each glint of the ice-blue optics, each swirl of the long blue cape, would radiate an aura of command and certainty. Yet his steps seemed to him now difficult, almost laborious, as though his own massive physical form had grown too heavy for him, as though he carried the entire weight of the universe with him.
Didn't he, though, in a sense? The little-known forces that swirled around him and sought him as a focal point, that turned him into an axis upon which the turning points of history hinged and shifted, required a conscious control, a careful handling, lest the unknown powers of the universe proliferate out of hand and harm the very cause for which he fought. It was a responsibility that he accepted, not least of all because his instincts guided him to do what must be done. But for all his awareness and understanding, for all that he was attuned to the distant harmonics of eternity, he had been blind to that which was directly before him. Was it some cruel necessity, he wondered, which dictated he should earn glimpses at the course of history before it occurred, and yet be unable to see his own brother with a clear vision?
His vision had cleared in a single horrifying instant when Megastorm lay dying - a lifetime's worth of mistakes and thoughtlessness brought into razor-edged focus. So intent on the responsibilities he bore, Galvatron had relegated Megastorm to the eternal role of the tag-along little brother, a role he had long outgrown but continued to play, for that was the position in which he was kept. Megastorm was a nuisance to be tolerated out of a sense of familial responsibility and little more. Galvatron had never denied his unspoken affections for his sibling, but in the day-to-day course of their lives, Megastorm's unbridled enthusiasm, his wavering between the quest for Galvatron's acclaim and his moments of obstinate insubordination, where elements Galvatron had little tolerance for. His brother's ideas and suggestions and innovations, he had dismissed as ill-thought-out nonsense.
Only now, shocked to attention in the most virulent possible way, could he see that Megastorm's ideas had merit. There was a passion and a dedication to the young Decepticon that should have been encouraged, not cast aside. How well Megastorm might have responded to some acknowledgement, rather than dismissal, from his older sibling. By now, Galvatron could see that Megastorm's actions grew from disillusionment. He had tried to win his brother's approval - and finding only indifference, had set out on his own to prove himself.
Prove himself he had, in his way; the Roller Force was returned to life from precarious stasis because Megastorm dared to take a chance with an innovative process, while Galvatron had considered them lost, their cores forever in shut-down and stored away in repair bay like mementos of happier times. Where Galvatron acted with careful deliberation, Megastorm dared to take risks. During Galvatron's times of incapacity here on this world, Megastorm's leadership had seen its share of successes. But also of failures. Had Galvatron been present to guide him, to center the younger warrior with his own experience and wisdom, they might have become an exceptional team.
Such was not to be. The torrent of memories was thankfully broken for a moment as Galvatron reached the bottom of the ravine, near the point where the converging cliffsides came together. Here, he had to allocate some of his attention to the exterior world and orient himself. He was near the very beginning of a rift valley that ran half the length of the continent, visible from space as a dark scar across the surface, its shadows concealing the unsolved mysteries of this world. As dusk settled further, Galvatron brushed aside a frond of brown, wilted leaves that still cascaded from the cliffside, and followed the path of the valley.
The bare rock and chipped gravel of the ravine floor crunched faintly beneath his steps. It was only a few turns before he reached his destination. Aside from the changes that had come across the whole planet, it was as he had last seen it - a towering black monolith, an ancient computer core that had been left behind by some long-extinct civilization. The first time he had seen it was from the bridge of his ship, in the form of an energy reading so powerful his instruments could not measure it. Energy readings for the whole planet were off the scale, and only random fluctuations hinted that their nexus might be here, in this rift valley - but then again they might have been on the northern continent, or near the poles. But Galvatron knew. When the screen traced out the rectangular shape and attempted to fill in details that it could not read, he knew very well that here was the source of the energy he sought - a direct tap into whatever power flowed freely on this world. He had called it "angolmois" energy, after a nearly forgotten old legend, but in fact that was a fanciful term; what they had really found was a molecularly-mutated form of energon. And the monolithic ancient structure, was the access portal into its power.
This black monolith now towered above him, as it had the first time he stepped foot on this planet. He had sensed beyond its power that it could impart to him information he would need and find useful, not only on this mission but on future ones as well. Accessing the computer, he had found himself caught up in a beam of pure information, which imparted to him a lifetime's worth of knowledge within a few seconds. The lost civilization of this world - their memories now lived within him. But it had taken some time to assimilate the multitude of data, and the waking world had provided too much distraction, too much sensory overload. He had fallen into a state of semi-awareness, almost a comatose condition, during which he was only occasionally aware of others around him. Eventually he had reawoken, but his systems labored under their new awareness still, as well as the new transformation mode that the datastream had programmed into his core. The others had undergone changes on this world also, but for him alone, they had been permanent.
As night gathered more intensely and the temperature dropped, what could be seen of the sky above shifted from gray cloudcover to deep charcoal. No stars were visible. Snow continued to filter down gently, lending an illusion of serenity. The monolith computer was now only a featureless black silhouette against the slightly less-black shadows at the bottom of the ravine. Why he had come here, of all places, Galvatron was not certain. It was not here in this ravine that Megastorm had been killed - but here, perhaps, was the last time he and Megastorm had stood together as brothers. Shortly thereafter, the sensory overload had knocked Galvatron unconscious, and Megastorm had taken the opportunity to emulate his older brother in the most direct way possible - by trying to take his place. Galvatron could not fault him. Megastorm's personal quest to step out of his brother's shadow aside, someone had to take over, to lead the others. Galvatron wished he had spent more time teaching Megastorm what he knew. He would then have been a more effective leader.
A renewed turbulence of regrets rose up from the deepest levels of his mind, unhindered by the cold dark silence of a dead world. Would it have been so difficult, Galvatron thought now, to have paid Megastorm some heed? To have provided direction rather than dismissal? A few shared words of pride and affection at the moment of his brother's death, paled in comparison to the relationship they might have had, with a little more awareness on their part. On his part, Galvatron corrected himself harshly. He was the elder sibling, he should have been the wiser. He was grateful that he had at least had the opportunity to offer comfort, to forgive and to accept forgiveness, before Megastorm's terrible injuries overcame his will to survive. And yet, there could have been so much more. And for all of Galvatron's power, the lost time could not be called back.
He searched within himself for anger. He wanted rage, something to burn away the leaden weight of loss and guilt, but all his rage had burned itself out in the retaliation, as he turned against the Autobots who had attacked Megastorm. When they were dead at his feet - LioConvoy and his simpering fools - the rage died with them, and even the sense of rightful retribution could not counterbalance the grief. Now, only a few days later, it felt as though a great cold empty stretch of years had passed, and there was no rage left to warm him with its fires.
Galvatron stood alone and motionless in the darkness, the looming obelisk of the computer having melded completely into the blackness of night. Though he sensed its presence as surely as if he could reach for it and coax it to activity with a thought. It was still alive, this computer, still active after all these millennia. It had survived the war on this world, while Megastorm had not.
He remained where he was until he was almost too cold to move. The snow that continued to drift down in silence, had begun to coat his plating in a faint glitter of ice crystals. Finally he turned and found the path by memory in the darkness, the path back up out of the ravine. Each step once again seemed to drag into slow motion, his sense of time stretching into eternities in the gulfs between passing seconds. Somewhere in the endless stretches of infinity, entire empires rose and fell on the tides of history and battered themselves to pieces against the shorelines of entropy. Throughout the universe in the galactic cores, matter coalesced into energy and ignited the fiery furnaces of newborn stars - for a moment there was a welcome flicker of rage, rage at fate, rage at destiny - and then it died again, as stars die, consuming themselves to ashes.
The ship was where he had left it, hovering just above ground level atop the cliffside. The tractor beam swept him up and back to the bridge, the only inhabitant. Quite of their own accord from long practice, his fingers traced the controls, guiding the ponderous vessel upwards into the cloudcover. Even the soft hum of the sublight engines seemed to mute for a moment against the heavy gray of the lower atmosphere - and then the ship was clear, broken free of the planet's lower realms to skim the edge of the stars once again.
He could not circle here in orbit forever around this world, he knew. It had yielded what resources it had to the Empire, and was of no further value. Meanwhile, he had responsibilities of his own, which would not kindly step aside and wait while he mourned a brother he might have been able to save. But the universe would have to wait for him just a little while longer.
Perhaps in life, he had not been a good sibling. He had never spoken of his affections, not until it was too late. He had never made a clear statement. In death, however, there was perhaps one last thing he could do.
As the ship edged away from the planet, the rest of the solar system came into view. First the two moons around the planet itself, then the two lifeless worlds further inward toward the sun. As the ship pulled back further, the outer planets came into view. In the center of it all, burned the yellow star.
Galvatron touched a control on his armrest and felt a shudder run through the ship. A moment later, a pair of bright starbursts came into view on the screen, arrowing toward the sun. Another few beats of the fuel pump, and the torpedoes impacted, sending a bright-white ribbon of fire up from their point of entry, like the arc of a solar flare. It settled again, a fountain of fire falling back on itself into the corona, and for another long moment, all was stillness and silence...
...And then the sun began to pulsate, almost imperceptibly at first, then ever more obviously. The star paused for a moment as though drawing breath in preparation for a great scream - and then exploded outward with a light so brilliant it overloaded the viewscreen.
Galvatron heard the radiation crackling against the shields, and knew he would not have radio contact with home until he was well clear of this sector. When the blank screen finally regained function and shimmered faintly back to the exterior image, the yellow sun had expanded to many times its original size, taking in and instantly devouring the four innermost planets. It spun and churned with the violent energies of a supernova, though in its artificial creation it would be stable for some time: a blazing funeral pyre that would stand as a memorial for a million years to come.
It was something Megastorm would have done, something bold and dramatic, something that would be noticed. It was all Galvatron could do for him now. It was too little - and far too late.
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