Twisted Cogs | | Bayverse | | Book 2

Chapter 9 | | Knocking On Death's Door | |

"Waiting won't get you anywhere. Neither will turning to other means of action."

★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Sand blows through the small desert town in front of them, the stony grains filtering through the narrow streets as the wind picks up. The sun glares down upon the unwatered battleground, clear of blood and lost souls in the calm before the storm. Each frond on the sparse palm trees shakes violently as the air trembles in growing power. There is no doubt that blood will be spilt.

Planes fly above the tense tranquility, dropping shoots and men with little elegance. Their target is the outskirts of the near-empty town, many of their soldiers already landing on their feet. Each man awaits careful and specific instructions from their superior, a man surrounded by mechs in a similar squadron.

Toby Hills can feel her blood rushing through her veins, every strand of hair blowing across her face, hear each individual pump of her heart. The familiar sensation is completely welcoming, the invincible feeling is one to get high on, but not today. Today it scares her. Just like two years ago, she has no idea what the result of this battle will be. Just like two years ago, she has a hunch that someone's going to die.

But today also poses another risk. In her arms, she carries her son. A sweet, innocent, untainted child in the arms of a scarred woman who has shaken hands with death. Only a few days into his life, he might lose it.

She stares at his oblivious expression, watching his big optics blink in confusion and derma quiver as he watches the planes in the distance. 'No' she decides. Not if she has anything to say about it.

The others around her frown at the distance, unaware of the bold signs that warn of the imposing battle. To them, there is only a risk of being caught in the crossfire. There is no certainty that the woman knows exists.

Despite the thickness in the air, the youngest boy walks forward, calling upon his distanced guardian for aid in arrival. His steps trigger a ripple effect on the group, each member following suit. All except for the fiery haired inventor.

She watches them crowd the yellow mech, an ancient look in her eye. Clouds billow in her mind, racing against time to get her thoughts clear and smooth. The watch in her pocket feels a hundred times heavier, its hands ticking with each passing second. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The young Autobot scout whirrs at her, his interior crammed with impatient passengers. He can see her doubts clashing against the hope in an endless battle, her eyes a window to her mind. It's frightening how quickly she changes. But one must expect loss to do that to someone.

Her glazed irises flicker up to meet his alternate sensors, what once was ice blue now as cloudy as the sea. She shakes her head subtly, so much so that he nearly misses the movement, and turns to one of the twins. The green mech's door swings open, oblivious to her state of presence.

He can't help but worry for her. The last time anyone saw her like this was the day of the battle two years ago, but even then she was more expressive. She displayed fear and anger then, but neither can be seen now. He can only pray to Primus that things will turn out well.

That is not to say that he has forgotten the inscription on her mother's ring. Oh, no. That memory is very clear in his processor, along with the moment he swore to keep his intake shut about such manners. "It would be unwise to inform her now," he can vividly remember Optimus' voice, "she must discover this on her own, without our aid."

"But, Optimus," Ratchet had been the first to intervene, an interruption expected from the mech concerning the topic of his charge, "to not tell her would be to put Toby in danger!"