Post by Solsabre on May 28, 2011 14:30:47 GMT -5
Those Who Dare to Dream
The Life and Dreams of an Autobot named Hound
As told by Trailbreaker, Autobot Brother-in-arms.
Summary: He found a new home. A chance to live again. To dream an impossible dream other would scoff at. A dream left unfulfilled, only to be later fulfilled. A tribute to one of our most beloved Autobots.
Beautiful.
Beautiful he called it, as we watched the slow rotation of the Earth on its tilted axis via Hound’s holographic projector. I reckoned I agreed with him more or less in that statement at the time. I mean the mass of swirling white gliding over the transition between the blues, greens, and browns was an awing sight to behold. Especially the blue. It certainly had shown to be far more colorful than Cybertron ever was.
We really didn’t have much time to observe our surroundings at first; we were aroused groggily from deep stasis and Prime was mustering us into formation, shouting out orders to get everyone online and up-to-date on the situation. Those first few hours after awaking were a bit of a blur, we were just going through the motions of going to our positions and duties.
Perhaps the first realization of how alien this world was when this massive expansion of brilliant blue stretched out below us as we flew to the location of Decepticon activity. For many of us, we had never seen such a thing in our long existence. It was never ending, even the shore behind us quickly receded and we saw it no more. A few of the others maneuvered to as high as an altitude as they could, as though afraid the maws of the deep blue would rise up and swallow them. At least that’s what it felt like to me.
Unfortunately, flight was much more difficult for us Autobots on this world. The planet’s atmosphere was much denser than Cybertron’s and we probably burned more energon traveling there, then at the actual fight. Any traces of uneasiness left our minds as we reached the battle field, a platform standing unhindered by the blue expanse, and faced the Decepticons once again.
Later, after the initial sets of battles, we were finally able to learn more about the planet we had awaken on. I’d say it had impact on all of the Autobots, but I think Hound was affected the most.
The earliest memory I can recall was when the two of us were out in the wilderness on some R&R after a few intense weeks; we were sitting on a small ridge overlooking the coniferous forest below us with the sun setting and the beginning of stars appearing overhead. Hound was staring ahead with a far distance look in his optics and a small smile on his faceplates. I, myself, was enjoying the colorful spectacle.
“Trailbreaker, can I tell you something?” Hound asked out of the blue, his voice soft and unusually solemn.
“Sure thing, Hound,” I said without turning my optics away from the twinkling stars.
He looked at me briefly and considered his words for a moment, “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“You know you can count on me, Hound,” I said concerned and a little off settled by he’s hesitate tone. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s just that I think I like it here on Earth.”
“Nothing wrong with that, I mean a bunch of other Autobots feel that way too.”
“No, it’s more along the lines that I’ think I’d like to stay here…forever. Don’t get me wrong I love Cybertron, always will, but this planet…it’s given me back a feeling I haven’t felt since before the war.”
“Oh, what feeling would that be?” I asked, curiosity growing during Hound’s impromptu confession.
“Alive, ‘breaker…alive,” his voice sounded, a mere whisper I almost missed. My logic chips clicked into place and realization came to me as I thought about his words.
Hound was the last of a dying breed of Transformers.
Rangers were rare even before the war. They were the few individuals who took it upon themselves to watch over the Outer Rim, a northern region of Cybertron isolated from the other major city-states mainly due its harsh environment with rugged terrain, acid pools, and radiation hotspots. Most rangers were said to be the equivalent of human hermits, preferring to be left along and refusing conversation when company was available. Of course, Hound seemed to be the exception to this rule, since for as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been fairly social and easy to get along with.
Hound’s past as a ranger was the reason he was chosen for Prime’s squadron. Anyone can use a scanner to track the enemy, but rangers… they were the best. They didn’t need special equipment, they knew instinctively were their target was by taking cues from the land and sneak up behind their query without giving away their presence.
Unfortunately, the last regions of the Outer Rim vanished as the war became wide spread across the globe. Hound was there when it happened. He was guiding a group of refugees from the equatorial cities in a desperate attempt to reach safe haven in Iacon. They had no other choice; all other routes were blocked, leaving the dangerous passage through the Outer Rim as the only option. Hound figured taking the refugees through there, despite the risks, would discourage the ‘cons from following.
In the end that wasn’t the case. The Decepticons pursued them relentlessly, never letting up pressure on the fleeing party. Many refugees died, as well as some Decepticons, there in the Outer Rim from hidden acid pools or due to over exposure in the radiation zones, but the majority made it through, no doubt from the efforts of Hound and his knowledge of the area. However, it came with a price. The fragile ecosystem that existed in the Outer Rim was devastated from the destruction the Decepticons created in chasing the Autobots. Cybertron lost its last remaining wilderness because of that trek.
It’s an awkward feeling being grateful and guilty at the same time, when you know the mech who saved your life also sacrificed something precious to him. Believe me when I say I know I was one of those refugees.
I approached Hound later to see if he was okay, since he was behaving like one of his turbo foxes out of its natural environment. He had a dazed look in his optics as though lost and not quite sure what do with himself.
I came up beside him and placed my black hand on his dark, green shoulder, “You know, you saved us out there.”
Hound let out a small sigh as he looked toward me away from his view at the window over seeing the nightlife of Iacon, “I have no regrets helping you or the others, Trailbreaker, if fact I’d do it again in a sparkbeat.” His voice became oddly hollow and nearly cracked as he continued, “But I can’t deny that a part of me died out there.”
My own spark constricted tightly at the pain that threaten to reveal itself in his voice. After that, the two of us remained together after our harrowing escape through the Outer Rim, moving from one location to another helping out our fellow Autobots until our eventual recruitment into Prime’s platoon.
Back on the ridge I thought about what my friend had said and I understood why Hound felt the way he did about Earth. It reminded him of his home in the Outer Rim.
No more words were said between us that night on the ridge, none were needed.
************************
Hound always did recite a good story. I supposed it helped he used his hologram project to illustrate particular scenes. He once told me of the time when a pack of turbo foxes invaded his campsite and ransacked his secured energon supply. Hound wasn’t really mad when he returned to find the mess, instead he laughed at how much sneakier and faster the feral turbo foxes were compared to their domesticated cousins raised by the Tower Dwellers for sport hunting.
The Life and Dreams of an Autobot named Hound
As told by Trailbreaker, Autobot Brother-in-arms.
Summary: He found a new home. A chance to live again. To dream an impossible dream other would scoff at. A dream left unfulfilled, only to be later fulfilled. A tribute to one of our most beloved Autobots.
Beautiful.
Beautiful he called it, as we watched the slow rotation of the Earth on its tilted axis via Hound’s holographic projector. I reckoned I agreed with him more or less in that statement at the time. I mean the mass of swirling white gliding over the transition between the blues, greens, and browns was an awing sight to behold. Especially the blue. It certainly had shown to be far more colorful than Cybertron ever was.
We really didn’t have much time to observe our surroundings at first; we were aroused groggily from deep stasis and Prime was mustering us into formation, shouting out orders to get everyone online and up-to-date on the situation. Those first few hours after awaking were a bit of a blur, we were just going through the motions of going to our positions and duties.
Perhaps the first realization of how alien this world was when this massive expansion of brilliant blue stretched out below us as we flew to the location of Decepticon activity. For many of us, we had never seen such a thing in our long existence. It was never ending, even the shore behind us quickly receded and we saw it no more. A few of the others maneuvered to as high as an altitude as they could, as though afraid the maws of the deep blue would rise up and swallow them. At least that’s what it felt like to me.
Unfortunately, flight was much more difficult for us Autobots on this world. The planet’s atmosphere was much denser than Cybertron’s and we probably burned more energon traveling there, then at the actual fight. Any traces of uneasiness left our minds as we reached the battle field, a platform standing unhindered by the blue expanse, and faced the Decepticons once again.
Later, after the initial sets of battles, we were finally able to learn more about the planet we had awaken on. I’d say it had impact on all of the Autobots, but I think Hound was affected the most.
The earliest memory I can recall was when the two of us were out in the wilderness on some R&R after a few intense weeks; we were sitting on a small ridge overlooking the coniferous forest below us with the sun setting and the beginning of stars appearing overhead. Hound was staring ahead with a far distance look in his optics and a small smile on his faceplates. I, myself, was enjoying the colorful spectacle.
“Trailbreaker, can I tell you something?” Hound asked out of the blue, his voice soft and unusually solemn.
“Sure thing, Hound,” I said without turning my optics away from the twinkling stars.
He looked at me briefly and considered his words for a moment, “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“You know you can count on me, Hound,” I said concerned and a little off settled by he’s hesitate tone. “What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s just that I think I like it here on Earth.”
“Nothing wrong with that, I mean a bunch of other Autobots feel that way too.”
“No, it’s more along the lines that I’ think I’d like to stay here…forever. Don’t get me wrong I love Cybertron, always will, but this planet…it’s given me back a feeling I haven’t felt since before the war.”
“Oh, what feeling would that be?” I asked, curiosity growing during Hound’s impromptu confession.
“Alive, ‘breaker…alive,” his voice sounded, a mere whisper I almost missed. My logic chips clicked into place and realization came to me as I thought about his words.
Hound was the last of a dying breed of Transformers.
Rangers were rare even before the war. They were the few individuals who took it upon themselves to watch over the Outer Rim, a northern region of Cybertron isolated from the other major city-states mainly due its harsh environment with rugged terrain, acid pools, and radiation hotspots. Most rangers were said to be the equivalent of human hermits, preferring to be left along and refusing conversation when company was available. Of course, Hound seemed to be the exception to this rule, since for as long as I’ve known him, he’s always been fairly social and easy to get along with.
Hound’s past as a ranger was the reason he was chosen for Prime’s squadron. Anyone can use a scanner to track the enemy, but rangers… they were the best. They didn’t need special equipment, they knew instinctively were their target was by taking cues from the land and sneak up behind their query without giving away their presence.
Unfortunately, the last regions of the Outer Rim vanished as the war became wide spread across the globe. Hound was there when it happened. He was guiding a group of refugees from the equatorial cities in a desperate attempt to reach safe haven in Iacon. They had no other choice; all other routes were blocked, leaving the dangerous passage through the Outer Rim as the only option. Hound figured taking the refugees through there, despite the risks, would discourage the ‘cons from following.
In the end that wasn’t the case. The Decepticons pursued them relentlessly, never letting up pressure on the fleeing party. Many refugees died, as well as some Decepticons, there in the Outer Rim from hidden acid pools or due to over exposure in the radiation zones, but the majority made it through, no doubt from the efforts of Hound and his knowledge of the area. However, it came with a price. The fragile ecosystem that existed in the Outer Rim was devastated from the destruction the Decepticons created in chasing the Autobots. Cybertron lost its last remaining wilderness because of that trek.
It’s an awkward feeling being grateful and guilty at the same time, when you know the mech who saved your life also sacrificed something precious to him. Believe me when I say I know I was one of those refugees.
I approached Hound later to see if he was okay, since he was behaving like one of his turbo foxes out of its natural environment. He had a dazed look in his optics as though lost and not quite sure what do with himself.
I came up beside him and placed my black hand on his dark, green shoulder, “You know, you saved us out there.”
Hound let out a small sigh as he looked toward me away from his view at the window over seeing the nightlife of Iacon, “I have no regrets helping you or the others, Trailbreaker, if fact I’d do it again in a sparkbeat.” His voice became oddly hollow and nearly cracked as he continued, “But I can’t deny that a part of me died out there.”
My own spark constricted tightly at the pain that threaten to reveal itself in his voice. After that, the two of us remained together after our harrowing escape through the Outer Rim, moving from one location to another helping out our fellow Autobots until our eventual recruitment into Prime’s platoon.
Back on the ridge I thought about what my friend had said and I understood why Hound felt the way he did about Earth. It reminded him of his home in the Outer Rim.
No more words were said between us that night on the ridge, none were needed.
************************
Hound always did recite a good story. I supposed it helped he used his hologram project to illustrate particular scenes. He once told me of the time when a pack of turbo foxes invaded his campsite and ransacked his secured energon supply. Hound wasn’t really mad when he returned to find the mess, instead he laughed at how much sneakier and faster the feral turbo foxes were compared to their domesticated cousins raised by the Tower Dwellers for sport hunting.