Siren Song

Chapter 2

Waves lapped at his pedes, softly caressing the rocket boosters and metal framework. The sun shined bright and alone in a cloudless sky. Striking through the impeccable blue would fly the uncommon aircraft, leaving long, thin contrails in their wake. Birds squawked and flapped their wings, and a rustle of branches would give away a prey's position.

The frame lying atop him suddenly rolled over, heaving and coughing. Saltwater dripped from their chin, and their voice sounded raw.

"What..." They coughed violently, slamming their servos into their frame a few times before continuing.

"What happened...?" They looked around, searching. It wasn't long until they spotted the frame just beside them.

"Good afternoon, Gunmax." The frame greeted them merrily, smiling.

"Deckerd! Where are we? What happened?!" Gunmax was growing visibly distressed, but the lead detective grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting up.

"It's alright. We're safe, I think."

"Hope, you mean." Gunmax grouched.

"Hope." The blue mech amended, smiling softly.

A silence stretched between the two — not awkward, but far from comfortable.

The biker seemed lost for the first time since Deckerd had met him, and it unnerved him greatly.

"It's alright, though. We'll find a way." The comfort was plain, simple, and admittedly shallow. However, it got Gunmax out of his brooding, so Deckerd counted it as a plus.

"Yeah, okay, fine. But right now, no ideas are coming to my processor. What with my low gas, dysfunctional communicator, GPS and chronometer — not to mention a distinct lack of service, the notion seems a bit stupid. Do you have any, great and flawless leader?" The grimace on his face certainly wasn't pleasant, even less so when it was being directed quite harshly at him, but the silence had been penetrated and they were finally getting somewhere.

"My frame didn't flood quite as badly as yours. Most of my internal devices are still online and running, including my GPS and chronometer. With these tools, we could start progress on a plan." Deckerd had a hopeful lilt to his tone and looked up at the mech still sitting above him with meaningful optics.

The sour downturn of his Gunmax's lips melted away, leaving only a furrowed brow in its wake.

"Well where are we, then? You said your GPS is functioning, so use it."

"We're at Onasabi island, ten kilometres from the port of Hiroshima." The response was concise; to the point.

"Damn. I'm too low on fuel to make it there, not with a payload." And there the grimace sat again, usurping the regal throne of Gunmax's lips for its own malevolent, ugly use.

Deckerd hated it when Gunmax grimaced.

Their positions remained unchanged, Gunmax still lying atop Deckerd, gazing skyward in thought. It was nearly uncomfortable, but the warmth the frame pressed up against him emanated made up for any downsides. Gunmax was larger than him when in his armour, he noted. Not a note of discontent. In truth, Deckerd found it all quite...

Nice.

But the answer to their predicament shone bright and clear to the smaller mech, and the simplicity of it appealed to him, too.

"Don't carry a payload, then." He stated.

"You moron, you're the payload." The teal mech growled.

Deckerd had known this.

"Yes, I am. Don't carry the payload, Gunmax, or you won't make it there."

The seriousness of the suggestion was beginning to dawn on the biker.

"No, Deckerd, because you are the payload."

The air carried no sound, for a while.

"Deckerd, I'm not leaving you behind." There was a warning in the low, baritone voice, but Deckerd didn't heed it.

"It's the only way." The mech shrugged, nonplussed.

"THE ONLY- mech, are you hearing yourself right now?! I'm not leaving you on this tropical hell, I just won't!" Gunmax was shouting now, and his visor glinted.

"We will both die if you don't do this, Gunmax." His optics narrowed dangerously, threateningly.

Gunmax ripped his arm from Deckerd's grip, pushing himself away. He stood up, rising to his full height above the mech beneath.

"AND HOW EXACTLY IS THAT ANY BETTER THAN JUST YOU?! YOU ACT AS IF YOU DON'T EVEN MAT-" Suddenly, his voice box broke down, hissing static and screeching incomprehensibly.

The hostile expression on Deckerd's face evaporated, replaced by one of sheer horror.

"Gunmax-!" It was in his attempt to follow the mech to a standing position that he quite suddenly realised his left leg was compromised, dragging him faceplate first into the sand.

The temporarily mute detective's optics spiralled wide, crouching down to attend to the fallen mech.

He opened his mouth and, in a panic, forgot exactly what had just happened to his vocaliser.

When he tried to speak, a harsh, piercingly shrill tone resonated through the area. Both immediately stopped what they were doing to cover their audials in pain. When Deckerd recovered, he was greeted with the pitiful sight of Gunmax lying on his back, faceplate conveying a deep misery and pain.

Deckerd pulled himself along the coarse sand scraping against his paintjob, then deposited himself beside the other detective.

"Gunmax..." His voice was mournful but empathetic.

"Gunmax, can you hear me?" He was quiet even to himself after the scream, so his expectations were distinctly cheerless. The nod in return served to rejuvenate his spirit.

"It's... it's okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. We can just lie here for a while. I'll stay with you until you can speak again, alright?" His voice was feather-light and dulcet. He laid down, stretching out against the hot surface. Deckerd shut off his optics, and was content to idle while Gunmax's voice recuperated.

-

"Deckerd..." The gravelly, rough and low voice roused him from his slumber. It was unpleasantly harsh, like a whisper-shout.

And yet, it was the most beautiful thing Deckerd had heard all day.

A gentle smile grew across his mouth, a barely-there upturn of the corners of his lips, unnoticeable from a distance.

When he opened his optics, Gunmax's faceplate hovered threateningly close to his, but only concern appeared on them.

Lean forward.

Why?

Lean forward.

No.

"Good..." His optics looked past the mech's helm, gazing shortly into the deep blue sky and setting sun beyond. "evening, Gunmax. I trust you find your voice sufficiently recovered?"

A pleasant quiet filled the silent gap, lethargic in its comfort.

"...Yes. I do."

"Do you want to explore the island?" Deckerd posed the suggestion entirely as a question. There were to be no demands for the rest of the day, he had decided.

"...Later." Gunmax laid back down beside him, stretching.

"Tomorrow, then?" Deckerd queried. A teasing lilt flowed playfully through his tone.

"Yeah." He responded.