“Do or Die”

By: Beastbot

            “Sir, our scanners detect five Maximal energy signatures slowly making their way towards us- it looks like the infiltration mission was a failure.”

            “Slag!” Rhinox cursed, wheeling up alongside K-9. “Are you sure? They may just be damaged from their ordeal.”

            K-9 held out his hand for silence as he listened to his communications headset.

            “Hrrm… nope, sorry, sir. Trample just contacted me and told me the situation. No casualties, thank Primus, but the Vehicons discovered them about about halfway through the mission. He says they barely managed to escape with their lives, although Flashfire was the only one who was gunned into stasis lock.”

            “Very well. Let them in,” Rhinox grumbled. “That’s five attempts at destroying the installation, and still no luck! Those Vehicons spot us at every turn, and it’s been proven already that we can’t face them head-on! That slagging station has been broadcasting for nearly a week now- it can’t be too long before it’s received.”

            “Sir, if I may be so bold,” K-9 suggested, “Perhaps we’re too focused on one solution to try other, less obvious, ones.”

            “What are you suggesting?” Rhinox asked.

            “Well, we could try a hit-and-run mission. We’d fire on the actual transmitter dish from the edge of the clearing surrounding the Vehicon base. Even though it would take an immense amount of firepower to actual destroy the dish, perhaps we could knock it just slightly off-course, thus sending the transmission into deep space. Just a few shots at a predetermined spot, and we’d be gone before the Vehicons would even notice.”

            “Wrong, teeheh,” replied a familiar voice behind them.

            Both of the Maximals quickly turned around, training their guns on the figure that had just spoken.

            “Taran,” Rhinox growled, “How did you get in here?”

            “Oh, please,” Taran said, waving the question aside. “I have access to incredibly advanced technology, even for a Vexoran. Do you honestly believe I can’t even do something so simple as teleport myself into your base, or render myself invisible to your scanners?”

            “I don’t care how you got in, but you’d better tell us what you want in five nanoseconds or I’ll blow you to pieces,” K-9 threatened.

            “Is that any way to talk to someone who helped hold off the Predacons when they attacked the Ark two months ago?” Taran chastised. “Still, since I’m such a nice guy, I suppose I’ll answer. I came to help you, as I always do. As I’ve said before, I share an interest in the continuation of your fascinating species, as you have much potential as a race. Unlike most other Vexorans, I am not so obsessed with having everything in the time stream staying exactly as my race thinks it should.”

            “And why should we trust you?” Rhinox asked suspiciously. “You killed my friend Cheetor, and then possessed his corpse. Give me one good reason for not slagging you where you stand.”

            “Why, because I’m the only shot you have at winning this war,” Taran chuckled. “We’ve already been through this. Nighteye may be adept at technology when compared to most Transformers, but he is nothing compared to me. Or even Scourge, for that matter. I, on the other hand, know exactly the kind of technology that Scourge is using. And I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that K-9’s little plan there won’t work. The satellite has been pre-programmed to notice if it is aimed at somewhere other than its destination. If you just knock it a little off-course, within nanoseconds it will detect the shift and automatically correct its position.”

            “Well, then what do you propose?” K-9 asked.

            “Knock the signal off-course, not the satellite itself. You Transformers may not have this technology, but I, thankfully, do. We set up a station at a point that I myself have picked out, then broadcast a “solid beam”, as I call it, right up into the air. It will intersect the transmission, and bounce it at just the right angle to send it to Cybertron. The transmission is already going through transwarp space into your time era, so we don’t need to actually alter the signal itself, just the destination. When Cybertron picks up the signal, they will see what a dire situation you Maximals in and immediately act upon it. Voila, problem solved.”

            “Hrmm… I suppose that could work…” Rhinox admitted.

            “There, you see? I essentially just helped you win this war all by myself. You should be thanking me, not pointing your weapons at me.”

            “We’ll go through with your plan, Taran,” Rhinox said, lowering his chaingun-arms, “but understand this. I will NEVER forgive you for torturing and killing Cheetor, and no matter how much you help us, that will never change. In addition to sending a team with you, I’m also going to send a few more ‘bots just to keep an eye on you. If you try ANYTHING funny, it will result in your immediate termination. Do we understand each other?”

            “Crystal clear,” Taran smirked.

            “Very well,” Rhinox said. Turning to K-9, he commanded, “Tell Blackarachnia, Torca, and Grimlock’s team to meet me in the briefing room. I will instruct them on the parameters of this mission. Keep Taran here under CLOSE surveillance until I’m done. Understand?”

            “Yes, sir,” K-9 saluted.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            “Me Triceradon no pack-bot!” the triceratops complained.

            “Me Grimlock say you quit whining and keep walking!” the dalmatian-spotted velociraptor commanded.

            “Ugh. Why did Rhinox team us up with those buffoons?” Blackarachnia whispered to Dinobot.

            “Brute strength,” Torca hissed. “Would you rather us carry all those heavy parts?”

            “I’m debating it,” Blackarachnia grumbled.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Torca said. “We are along to keep an eye on Taran. The hardcore labor is the Dinobot’s department.”

            “Stop talking, all of you,” Taran said, stopping to survey the dry plateau in his mechanical cheetah mode. “Hrrm…. Yes, this is the place. Dinobots, you can all unload your luggage here. We must start construction on this post immediately, there is no time to waste.”

            Obeying, all of the Dinobots shrugged off their luggage quickly, letting it clang on the ground. All of the assembled Maximals transformed into robot mode and turned to face Taran.

            “So, now what?” Dinotron asked. “What you need us to do?”

            “Dinotron, pick up those poles you see, over there. Triceradon, Striker, and Grimlock, you can help me assemble the main dish. Airraptor, you survey this area from the air, and keep a watch out for any Predacons. Blackarachnia and Torca, you can-“

            “We’re not doing ANYTHING, Taran,” Blackarachnia stated firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Rhinox told us to stay here and keep an eye on you, and that’s what we’re doing.”

                  “Please, you’re being ridiculous,” Taran protested. “You mean to tell me you’re just going to stand there and watch me work, without helping at all?”

                  “Yep,” Blackarachnia smiled. “Rhinox has had it with your half-truths and betrayals. You are NOT getting away with anything this time.”

                  “Very well,” Taran frowned. “Come, Dinobots, let’s begin.”

                  “Gee, this sounds fun,” Triceradon grumbled as he picked up an object that he guessed was a pole that was supposed to support the transmitter when it was finished.

                  Grimlock smacked him on the back of the head and went to work.

*                *    *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                  Under the cover of a cluster rocks, a lone weevil watched as Airraptor transformed and launched himself into the sky.

                  “Uh-oh,” Drill Bit muttered softly. “Time for this bug to go.”

                  The weevil quickly turned around and crawled back into the tunnel in the ground he had come from.

*                *    *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                  “Strika, wake up.”

                  Strika’s optics flicked on and she looked over the side of her recharge bed at Thrust, who was shaking her urgently.

                  “You could have just contracted me via comlink, Thrust,” Strika growled, pulling her shoulder away from Thrust’s claw. “What is it?”

                  “Scourge just contacted us. Seems one of his scouts detected some Maximal movement a couple sectors away. He wants you, me, Scavenger, and Mirage to take a look—according to Drill Bit’s report, the Maximals are building some kind of satellite array. Most likely to try to contact Cybertron. We gotta destroy it.”

                  Strika immediately sat up. “In that case, thank you for waking me, Thrust. How many Maximals are at the construction site?”

                  “The boss says there are eight of ‘em—including Taran.”

                  “Taran? Hmmm… then this is definitely something big,” Strika contemplated. “Still, we would be outnumbered two to one… We MIGHT be able to pull it off, but…”

                  “The boss is sendin’ Eclipse, Powerpinch, Retrax, Bloodshed, and Drill Bit along with us.”

                  “Ah. That should definitely tip the odds in our favor, then. Let’s teach the Maximals a lesson about interfering in Lord Scourge’s plans, Thrust.”

                  “With pleasure,” Thrust said, clamping his claws together in anticipation.

*                *    *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                  Torca looked up from his sketch in the dust. Yep, Taran was still there, working with Grimlock and the others, just like he had been doing for the past five hours. Torca was so bored he had started to draw a picture of a pretty fembot in the ground. And he didn’t even LIKE drawing. He almost wished he could just help Taran get this slagging project DONE, but orders were orders.

                  It was getting kinda cold, too. Slagging desert plateaus… they might be pretty hot in the daytime—which was good for the elephant part of his beast mode—but at night, there was nothing to hold in the heat.

                  “Hey, Taran,” Blackarachnia said from next to Torca, yawning. “Aren’t you done yet?”

                  “Just a few more cycles!” Taran said, obviously annoyed. “All I have to do is connect a few more relays and activate the power supply! Of course, if you Maximals had sent any COMPETENT help, I might have had it done decacycles ago!”

                  “Hey!” Triceradon said indignantly, standing up to his full height—which, admittedly, wasn’t very impressive. The stocky ‘bot was almost was wide as he was tall. “Me Triceradon doin’ plenty o’ work!”

                  “I won’t debate you on that,” Taran chuckled, turning back to his work as he talked, “You just aren’t doing it WELL.”

                  “Quit bossing Dinobots around!” Grimlock intervened. “Or me Grimlock gonna kick butt!”

                  “You couldn’t find your own butt, much less mine….”

                  “THAT IT!” Grimlock yelled, throwing down the metal beam he had been carrying. “DINOBOTS, AT—“

                  “Hold on!” Torca said, running in between the two aggravated parties. “I may want to slag Taran as much as you do, but we need him to finish this thing! It’s the only chance we have at winning this war!”

                  “Listen to your friend,” Taran laughed. “He seems to be a lot wiser than you are.”

                  Grimlock merely grunted and went back to work.

                  “Gee. This is a lot of fun,” Blackarachnia muttered to herself, massaging her temples with her claws.

*                *    *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                  “Yup, over there’s the place,” Drill Bit said, pointing with one of his front insect legs at the structure, barely visible in the distance even with all of the Predacons’ infrared vision activated. Still, it was getting closer all the time—the entourage were all running or driving at full speed, as they knew they hadn’t a moment to waste.

                  “Good! We make many fun chunks of them,” Retrax said, with a heavy Japanese accent. He wasn’t very familiar with the Transformer form of English.

                  “Er… right,” Thrust said. “So, Strika, you’re the boss… what do you want us to do?”

                  “There is little strategy involved, Thrust. There are no large areas to hide behind, so our best bet is to just charge in and take the Maximals by surprise.”

                  “Structural integrity of target considerable,” Mirage droned as the Predacons drew ever-closer to the site. “Chances of destroying the structure after one hit—twelve percent.”

                  “Yes, Taran chose wisely in that respect,” Bloodshed, the red-and-gold velociprator, acknowledged. “He established the structure’s main support beams and reinforced them BEFORE beginning work on the actual electronics. It’s going to take more than a few shots to bring it down.”

                  “The transmitter isn’t what I’m after,” Scavenger said, smiling maliciously with his jagged vehicle mouth. “It’s their pain.”

                  “All it will do is lengthen our mission a few extra nanocycles,” Strika said. “We outnumber them. Taran is still busy working on the transmitter, so he won’t be able to help defend the structure, either. So that leaves nine of us versus, effectively, seven of them. Thrust and I will focus on destroying the structure. The rest of you, pick a Maximal to attack, and be sure to keep them out of our way.”

                  All of the assembled Predacons nodded in acknowledgement.

                  “All right, then,” Strika said, smiling. “Predacons, Vehicons—ATTACK!”

*                *    *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                  Blackarachnia quickly turned her head towards the sourced of the noise. “Did you ‘bots hear that battle cry?”

                  “Finally, this mission gets interesting!” Striker said, taking out his tail-gun.

                  “Gah! I’m only a few cycles away from completing this!” Taran panicked, starting to connect wires that much faster. “Keep them away from this installation at all costs! We only need to hold out for a little while!”

                  “Piece of cake,” Grimlock yelled. “Dinobots, attack!”

                  “What are Blackarachnia and I, chopped liver?” Torca said, firing at the attackers, who had just now gotten into the near vicinity and transformed into their robot modes, splitting up.

                  Drill Bit immediately went after Blackarachnia, hoping to drill a hole through her head before she could get her gun out. Blackarachnia kicked him in the stomach, sending him to his knees with a grunt. The fembot then quickly unsheathed her large claws and cut Drill Bit’s drill-arm off at the shoulder.

                  “Do you ‘bots ever actually PRACTICE fighting, or do you just wing it every time?” Blackarachnia grinned.

                  “You haven’t finished me yet!” Drill Bit exclaimed through gritted teeth, tackling the smaller Maximal.

                  Instead of transforming into robot mode like the others, Retrax merely rolled into a ball and rammed full-speed into Dinotron, sending the pachycephalosaurus flying into a large nearby rock. Transforming, Retrax let out a cry of triumph and advanced on the downed Dinobot.

                  “Retrax, a single point! Dinotron, not competent to the point of scoring against!”

                  “Velociraptor versus velociraptor, eh pal?” Bloodshed said, grabbing his sword from subspace and thrusting it towards Grimlock, who blocked the attack with his own sword.

                  “Shut up and fight, stupid!” Grimlock growled.

                  The two began a sword fight, the metal clangs and clashes reverberating loudly throughout the plateau, even amidst the other fighting breaking out.

                  “Target acquired and locked,” Mirage droned, firing his head laser at Triceradon. The Dinobot took a hit to the shoulder panel, but this ‘bot was built to withstand heavy punishment—Triceradon hardly noticed the blast. Yelling, Triceradon transformed into his triceratops mode and charged at Mirage, but the fast Vehicon quickly stepped out of the way. Triceradon took a few seconds to realize what was happening, but by that time Mirage had rapped his hands around the triceratops’ neck, and began mercilessly pounding Triceradon’s head with laser blasts.

                  Neither of them saying a word, Eclipse and Airraptor began circling each other in the air, both of them firing torrents of bullets at their opponent. In this case, though, it seemed to be a true stalemate—neither of them were managing to inflict any serious damage on the other, as they were both too nimble.

                  “Hmm, I wonder what stegosaurus tastes like…” Scavenger said, chuckling darkly as he advanced on Striker.

                  “Me Striker think you like taste of plasma better!” the Dinobot said, firing right into Scavenger’s face. Roaring, the Vehicon fired his chest-mounted blasters at Striker, damaging the dinosaur’s right arm heavily.

                  “You pay for that!” Striker yelled, running up to Scavenger and pummeling the huge Vehicon relentlessly. Scavenger merely laughed, grabbed Striker’s fists, and kicked the Transformer away, right on top of Dinotron’s downed form.

                  “Care to share the fate of your teammate?” Scavenger asked, advancing on the Dinobot again.

                  Striker merely grunted and backed away from Scavenger at roughly the same rate the rather slow behemoth advanced, firing relentlessly at the larger Vehicon.

                  Powerpinch literally jumped on top of Torca, leveling his claw-weapon at Torca’s neck.

                  “Time to say goodbye, FORMER friend,” the earwig bug grunted.

                  “Yeah… for you,” Torca said. He brought up his gun, and, pulling the trigger… squirted water in Powerpinch’s face.

                  The bug laughed. “Spraying water? THAT’S all your weapon does?! Heh-ha, this will be easier than I—huuulk!”

                  Torca had interrupted the Predacon’s rambling by ramming his knee into his enemies’ head. The bug collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

                  “Say what you will, I think it’s more effective than bullets, as you no doubt just saw,” Torca said, smiling.

                  “A little help, please!?” the fuzor heard Taran yell from halfway across the plateau-turned-battlefield. Strika and Thrust were mercilessly pummeling the structure, and it was starting to give in a few areas. Unfortunately, Taran couldn’t fight both of them at the same time, and he apparently didn’t want to leave the structure alone to take that chance. A few more blasts, and it would collapse…

                  Torca quickly transformed into his beast mode and charged across the battlefield, ramming full-force into a stunned Thrust and taking the Vehicon to the ground. The cycle-bot growled and fired his guns into Torca’s face. The fuzor responded by transforming and punching Thrust’s face, and the two quickly became engaged in a fist fight.

                  Blackarachnia also heard Taran’s plea for help, and kicked Drill Bit in the crotch, leaving the Pred gasping for air as she hurried across the battlefield. Since Torca had already managed to distract Thrust, though, Strika was ready for her. The larger Vehicon fired her cannons repeatedly at the widow, and though the Maximal took a few shots to her shoulder panels, she was very nimble, and managed to dodge most of the blasts. Jumping up onto Strika’s shoulders, Blackarachnia extended her claws and plunged them into the base of Strika’s neck. The huge Vehicon screamed and shook her back, trying to get the widow off her, but the claws were too firmly dug in.

                  “I’ve got it! Finally!” Taran yelled in triumph. He quickly slammed down on the power button, and the satellite dish activated and began to transmit the programmed message to Cybertron.

                  “Not on my watch!” Strika said. Gritting her proverbial teeth, Strika hopped backwards and did a half-flip, making her head hit the ground hard but also partially crushing Blackarachnia under her weight. It did push in Blackarachnia’s claws, now torn from the widow’s hands, a little further, but Strika dealt with the pain and fired a few more shots at an already-damaged part in the structure.

                  “NOOO!!!” Taran screamed as the shots blasted one of the vital support rods from the satellite outpost, sending the entire structure collapsing in a heap of metal.

                  Looking around at the battlefield, Strika quickly assessed the situation. On her side, Drill Bit, Powerpinch were out cold, Thrust has been pummeled unconscious by Torca, Eclipse was starting to lose to Airraptor in the air battle, and Grimlock had skewered Bloodshed a short while ago and was now fighting Retrax. On the Maximal side, Blackarachnia and Dinotron were out, but the others were still fighting valiantly, though Triceradon apparently wouldn’t last much longer against Mirage. Much to Strika’s chagrin, it appeared the odds were not in their favor if they continued the battle.

                  “Vehicons, Predacons—the mission has been accomplished!” Strika yelled out reluctantly. “Gather up the wounded and retreat!”

                  Even though Scavenger especially seemed disappointed, the Predacons and Vehicons quickly obeyed their leader, transforming into their alternate modes and fleeing the scene. The battered bunch of Maximals watched their enemies leave, a cloud of dust trailing behind the retreating Transfomers.

                  “Come back, cowards!” Grimlock yelled. “Dinobots, we follow them!”

                  “I wouldn’t bother,” a grumpy Taran said, pulling himself out of the satellite outpost’s wreckage. “I’m the only one here who has a chance of catching up to them—the rest of you have relatively slow beast modes.”

                  “He’s right,” Torca said, frowning. “How long did that thing manage to transmit before Strika blew it up, Taran?”

                  “Only about three seconds,” Taran said, growling. “Still, signal receivers are everywhere on Cybertron. Let’s just hope they manage to pick it up…”

The End