Redux

Rated TVY7: nothing even remotely squicky here, folks. Enjoy.

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Disclaimer: Beast Wars and all characters, concepts, and other such stuff all belong to Hasbro. The Makeawish.com concept belongs to Ivyna of ivynajspyder.com. Natalia and her mom are mine. And I am just a poor college student who works retail on the side, so if you sue me you won't get anything.

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My reality check bounced. -Dilbert

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It was a dark and stormy night.

Morning, actually. It was a dark, stormy, windy, cold morning, and just to add insult to injury, it was Monday. After spinning around this psychosis-inducing sun of ours for nearly eighteen years, I have never met a person who liked Mondays. I hate Mondays. My classmates hate Mondays. My teachers hate Mondays. The President hates Mondays. Jesus Christ Himself probably hated Mondays. The only reason He created them is so that people wouldn't feel so bad about Tuesdays.

Although personally, Tuesdays aren't the greatest days for me either.

Anyway, Monday, Tuesday, or Friday, it was a school day, and therefore I had to go to school. All hail the almighty public education system, whose power doth drag me out of my natural habitat - bed - at the unholy hour of 5:30 AM five mornings out of seven. By its might I did perform the miracle of dressing myself in the correct order, with all my clothes right-side-out and frontwards, all without fully opening my eyes, and stumbled down the stairs to breakfast.

I found a note on the kitchen table when I came downstairs. "Natalia," it read, "Running late. Be sure to feed the fish for me. And have something hot for breakfast. Love, Mom." I obeyed with a sigh - you'd think my mom would have time to feed our two fish, Bubbles and Blurp, if she had time to write out a note for me, but there's my mother for you. Scatterbrained is her middle name. Fish fed, I turned to the task of fulfilling my own bodily needs. Say what you will about breakfast - I couldn't live without it. It's the only meal where you can eat vaguely dessert-ish stuff and call it the main course. Mmm, sugar.

Not that I was really paying attention to what I was eating, of course. Way too early for that. Behold, another modern miracle: I managed to not poison myself by drinking insecticide or something instead of my daily glass of milk, or burn down the house toasting my Pop-Tart. That was Pleasant Surprise A. Pleasant Surprise B was finding that, after brushing my teeth and all, I still had about fifteen minutes' worth of down time before I had to start walking to school in order to make it in time - no bus service to my neighborhood, and no car to my name, so walking it was. After a moment's chagrin - I could have had a whole quarter hour of extra sleep! - I went down to The Pit to use my time productively.

The Pit - named, for good reason, after the Predacons' version of the afterlife. My parents, poor naive people that they are, refer to The Pit as our basement, but of course, being seventeen and infinitely wiser than they, I discerned the true nature of our house's lower level quite easily. It hungers; it seethes; it devours me little by little. And even knowing what I know, I am easy prey, for The Pit holds the Two Great Temptations that are the plague of my scholarly existence - my computer, and my Playstation 2. Against these shiny sirens of entertainment I cannot stand.

My computer had not been shut off the night before, so it took only a little jiggle of the mouse before the monitor snapped to life. I settled myself in my chair and proceeded to undergo the sacred ritual of Checking My Email.

Okay, I admit it. I'm an Internet junkie. So sue me.

The Sacred Ritual turned up pretty impressive results for six fifteen in the morning. One email from my friend Katie in Florida, one from my cousin in Illinois, and no less than sixteen spams. I am a spam magnet. Behold my spammishness. Anyway, rather than my normal tactics of opening spams just to laugh at their contents, I proceeded to delete each one - I had eleven minutes of free time left, and I wasn't going to waste them on the minions of the Evil Spam Guru who directs all these things to my mailbox.

Fifteen spams gone. One left. My pinky reached for the delete key.

And stopped. "Makeawish.com? Hello." I squinted at the item in question, glared, bared my teeth, and when the spam failed to sink into deletable anonymity, I opened it. Hey, it should be good for a laugh at least.

Ten minutes left. Makeawish.com's email extolled the virtues of a Web site wherein the user - that's me, they hope - inputs a wish, any wish at all, and the Magic Makeawish Server (they didn't actually say that...) would grant it within twenty-four hours. You could wish as many times as you wanted, for as many things as you wanted.

"Well," I said, using my patented Megatron Voice. "This looks quite interesting, yess." Click. Into the abyss.

Eight minutes left.

The layout of Makeawish.com was... erm... mediocre at best. As the mistress of a mediocre website myself, and a browser of many, many more of all craftsmanship levels, I am intimately familiar with the type. A simple _JavaScript form dominated the page, and I didn't see any links to info pages, home pages, or email contacts. Text areas asked to be filled with my name, email address (like they didn't already have that..) and my wish. Two buttons sat at the bottom, marked 'Wish' and 'Reset'.

Name... hmm. Never give out your real name over the Internet, kids, especially to sites with questionable trustworthiness. "Lunarscape," I typed. Lunarscape was my handle on several message boards.

Email... easier. I typed that in without thinking. (This is where most of my problems start, incidentally. But that's a rant for another day.)

Wish... lessee... "World peace"... delete. Bad idea. Remember G1 Megatron's motto, "Peace through tyranny?" That's where America's headed. It doesn't need any more encouragement.

"An end to world hunger..." delete. It would probably be granted by cannibalism not being taboo anymore.

A light bulb clicked on over my head. "Ooh."

"I wish for the Beast Wars to take place in the present day, in my area." That oughta shake up this sleepy little white-bread prep-school town. Besides, I always wanted to catch Waspinator and tame him as a pet.

Another light bulb lit up. "I also wish to be a Transformer - non-aligned - with my current body as my beast mode, so that I can defend myself if I need to."

Three minutes left.

I sat back, contemplating, my hand on the mouse, the pointer over the 'Wish' button.

Up till now I had been operating on the assumption that there was a tiny - very tiny, but still real - chance that my wish would be granted. Did I really believe that? And was I prepared to deal with the consequences either way?

Did it matter? I had to try. Carpe diem - seize the day. Carp in denim - there's a fish in my pants.

Click.

One minute left.

The wish form page disappeared, to be replaced by another. "Thank you for your participation," it read, in even less formatting than the first. "Your wish is being processed. Have a nice day at school, Lunarscape."

"School," I repeated dully, and looked at the computer's clock.

Zero minutes left.

"Yipe!" I grabbed my bookbag and my raincoat and lit out of the house.

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Even with the raincoat, I arrived at school soaking wet. Of course. Why doezz univerzze hate Natalia?...

My jeans still hadn't dried by the time Spanish class rolled around, three periods into the day. By this time the sugar high from my Pop-Tart had just about run out, and my brain was beginning to slow. Spanish time equals nap time, according to my body, and who am I to protest? Besides, the teacher has one of those incredibly boring, droning voices that seem tailor-made to cure insomnia. Mentally blessing whichever ancestor of mine had the bright idea of having my last name start with a W, thereby guaranteeing me a back-row seat under the alphabetical-order seating system my teacher used, I curled up in my desk, head in my arms.

The edges of the world went fuzzy as I began to fall asleep. My legs were cold from my still-damp jeans, smelling faintly of water. The teacher's voice rolled like the surf in my ears. I felt as if my desk were shifting - this way, and that -

My fingers gripped the wood. I opened my eyes.

The universe shifted up - and a little to the left -

And snapped into place, and the sea was quiet. I fell asleep.

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A mighty quake and the school's fire alarms bitch-slapped me awake with such force that I nearly fell out of my chair. I did fall out of my chair when someone screamed right in my ear. Righting myself and checking my head for new bumps - no major damage - I stood and grabbed the nearest classmate by the sleeve. "What's going on?" I asked.

"Bomb!" he cried, slipped my grasp and was gone, following a stampede of Spanish students headed for the door.

[Bomb?] I stood there for a minute blinking. Something wasn't connecting. [Oh. Bomb. Bomb!] I vaulted my desk, caught my foot on it at the last minute, and went sprawling. "Owww, ow ow ow!" I was alone in the classroom now. Yells and screams sounded from the hallway outside, almost drowning out another sound -

I drew myself to my knees and concentrated. [That noise is - familiar somehow...] My eyes shot open. [Laserfire?]

Something was clearly awry. Ignoring every safety rule I was ever taught in kindergarten, I crept to the door and opened it just a crack.

Chaos met my eyes. Panicked seniors trampled panicked freshmen in their haste to escape, panicked teachers returned the favor to panicked seniors, and panicked sophomores just plain demolished everybody. Overhead, and sometimes not-so-overhead, hot lasers of all colors lit the hallways like nightclub neon, and the hallway was filled with dust. I pulled the door closed as one particularly brawny guy went barreling past, then opened it again.

The tail end of the stampede was passing now. They were all running in the same direction, away from the main entrance... hmm. That was strange. As the crowd thinned to only a few huffing stragglers, I opened the door even wider and peeked around the corner. I couldn't see a thing of the other end of the hall; there was only dust and - I ducked - the occasional burst of lasers.

I withdrew into the classroom and shut the door. [What now?]

[Okay. Deep breaths.] Whatever was firing would probably be tramping through this hallway soon, looking for stragglers, or things of value, or whatever. I was trapped in this room, and if they bothered to check it -

Bad Things would happen. I cast about for some exit. There was the other door - no good, as it opened into the same hallway. There were vents in the ceiling, but even if I were confident enough of their being able to hold my weight, how would I get up there? The windows were all locked, so - "Oh, hell," I said aloud. "What am I thinking?" It wasn't as if I'd get in trouble for breaking a window in this situation.

Now, I just needed something to break it with. Hmm...

Two textbooks, a flowerpot, and a large pair of scissors later, I had myself a nice hole in the window. Carefully I threaded one leg through, then my head -

The door banged open. "Hold it right there, fleshling."

I yelped, half in startlement and half from a sudden, sharp pain in my hand - I'd caught my palm on one of the remaining shards of glass in the window. I turned, awkwardly, to catch a cobalt-blue humanoid in my peripheral vision. [Is that metal?]

"Come on," the metalloid growled, starting forward. "Consider yourself a prisoner of the Predacons now, human."

"Of the what!?" I nearly fell out of the window. Only the metalloid's hand on my arm stopped me from completing the acrobatics. Roughly he pulled me back from the sill and dragged me toward the door.

It was then that I remembered my wish - to restart the Beast Wars, in my own time and place.

Oh, hell.

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I was having the toughest time figuring out who my captor was. He had no animal parts at all, nothing to suggest he even had another form. He might as well have been a walking protoform. I coughed as we entered the dust cloud, wiping protective tears from my eyes. Inadvertently I smeared some blood on my cheek. My hand was really gushing - I wondered idly if I'd get the chance to dress it soon.

We entered the lobby - or what was left of it. Rubble predominated, and the linoleum was buckled to such an extent that I found it hard to walk without tripping - and my captor's grip on my arm tightened every time I tripped. Where the doors should have been , there was now piles of brick and plaster and all kinds of things, surrounding the pointed nose of what looked to be a gold-hulled spaceship. Two more robots, neither with evidence of beast modes, worked at clearing away rubble from the ship's large entrance hatch, with no small amount of grumbling. Off to the left, a small bunch of human kids sat, bound by red-lit power bonds and guarded by yet another robot. A few were crying, some were shouting at their guard, and I didn't recognize any of them. My captor-bot dragged me over to the guard mech, with unnecessary roughness as far as I was concerned. "Here's another one for you, Dinobot," he said.

[Dinobot?] I thought. [What's he doing here?] Then I remembered - he was a Predacon. He only joined the Maximals because he thought Megatron had led them to the wrong planet -

A chilling thought occurred to me. [It's pretty obvious to these guys that this is Earth,] I thought. [What if Dinobot doesn't defect?]

Dinobot without his beast mode kept his cerulean-blue coloring and distinctive facial features, but little else. I didn't even see the sword. Without a word he took me from the blue-bot, wrapped me like a Christmas package in energy bonds - those things are effing uncomfortable, by the way - and shoved me away. I landed with a yelp on several other captives, who let out dismayed or angry cries of their own.

Managing to arrange myself in a sitting position apart from the others, I looked around, shifting nervously in my bonds. The two 'bots clearing away rubble were offering running commentary on the task, quite loudly. One, a white-skinned mech, had the distinctive screechy lilt to his voice that could only belong to Terrorsaur, and the other one referred to himself in the third person, and I decided he was Waspinator even though he didn't have any buzzing accent. By process of elimination, I decided the blue-bot who'd captured me was Scorponok. That left only Megatron and Tarantulas - but where were they?

As if on cue, a purple-skinned robot appeared in the entrance to the ship. "Leave off that menial work," he told Waspinator and Terrorsaur, "yess. Tarantulas has prepared our beast modes."

"All right!" Waspinator ran into the ship, with air of a kid on Christmas Day. Terrorsaur was right behind, with no less enthusiasm, and Scorponok brought up the rear.

Megatron - it could only be he - turned to look at Dinobot, who hadn't moved. "Well?" he demanded. "Come on."

"One must stay outside," Dinobot said, "and guard the humans." His voice lacked the growly undertones of his Velociraptor mode but was otherwise as I remembered it.

Megatron chuckled. "How very... honorable of you, to willingly take last choice of a beast mode in order to guard our... guests," he said, "yess. But it is a needless gesture. I rather think they could do little in the amount of time needed."

"I wouldn't count on that," someone yelled.

Dinobot spun. "Shut your mouth, fleshling, or I will shut it for you!"

We all shrank back - myself included, I admit. "If any one of you has moved when I return," Dinobot growled, his voice softer but no less dangerous, "I shall send all of you to the Pit." He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving us all silent and pale behind him.

As Dinobot disappeared inside the Predacon ship, someone said clearly, "Well, this is a fine kettle of fish."

"No kidding," someone else answered glumly.

I looked around as the other prisoners chimed in with their own assessments of the situation. The majority of the kids captured were injured or sweating or both - the weak ones, or those too slow to make it out in time to avoid the Preds. Most of them were also easily recognizable as freshmen - to my senior eyes they looked like middle schoolers. [Typical of Predacons to pick on the little ones,] I thought. My hand throbbed.

It wasn't long before the Predacons emerged, all clad in the familiar beast-parts that identified them clearly as Megatron, Tarantulas, Dinobot, Terrorsaur, Scorponok, and Waspinator. Murmurs swept through the crowd - "They changed!" "What are they?" "We're doomed, doomed I tell you..." et cetera. They all quieted when Dinobot approached. The newly-minted raptor-Pred eyed us critically, snorted, and took a loose martial stance.

I sighed and turned my attention back to the other Predacons. I'd try to talk to Chopperface later, when he wasn't looking quite so grumpy.

"Wazzpinator hate thizz!" Waspinator was complaining, hefting yet another rock. "Why Wazzpinator have to do thizz? Wazzpinator greatezzt of Predaconzzz! Wazzpinator zzhouldn't - "

"Waspinator is about to get his skidplate kicked if he doesn't shut up," Terrorsaur growled.

Megatron, surveying his domain nearby, sent a toothy grin in their direction. "While your whining is annoying, Waspinator," he purred, "you have a point, yess. Why waste your talents on such tasks as clearing rubble? Dinobot," the tyrant ordered, "choose the strongest of your prisoners and bring them here."

Dinobot looked up, a bit startled. "Very well," he answered after a moment, and turned back to us. "You and you," he growled, pointing to a couple of boys, "and you two." His eyes flicked to me. "You as well. Stand up and come with me."

I gulped and stood. The others - all boys, I noted - did the same, although one was a bit slow about it and got roared at for his pains. Then, like a barbershop quintet of sheep, we were herded over to the piles of rock where, I assumed, we were to labor.

Ick. Physical activity.

Megatron looked us over like a prospective buyer as we approached. "These creatures, Dinobot? Forgive me, but they seem much too small and - " he poked at the foremost boy, a buzz-cut freshman who shrank back at his touch - "fragile for the task at hand. Yess."

"The others are in worse condition," Dinobot informed him. "And they seem to be mere children. I believe we have invaded a... gathering place for young humans."

"A school," an older boy corrected sullenly.

Dinobot raised a hand threateningly, amid warning 'shush' noises from the other kids. "Well," Megatron shrugged, "if these are the best we have, I suppose they will have to do." He faced us, turning up his patented I'm-Big-And-Scary-So-Fear-Me scowl. "You, fleshlings, have been pressed into service under the Predacons. When your power bonds are removed, you will proceed to clear this rubble - " he gestured at the debris around the ship's entryway, " - and you will do it with all possible speed and efficiency." He paused. "Any questions?"

The boys all spoke up at once. "Yeah. What are you?" "Where do you get off orderin' us around?" "You from outer space?" "How come you look different than before?"

If Megatron had been human, there would have been a vein popping out of his forehead. [These guys are asking for a beating,] I thought. [If I can just shift his attention - ]

My voice soared above the others'. "How do you robots make little robots?" Hey, it was something I'd been wondering, anyway.

His optics found my eyes. [I'm in for it now,] I thought, keeping my face pert. [That's right, just ignore the other kids, I'm the one you want - ]

Megatron's T-Rex head clamped onto the front of my shirt and lifted. He brought me up to eye level, filling my face with a heaping helping of Heavy-Duty Glower. "I want no cute answers from you, no," he snarled. "Is that understood?"

"No cuteness," I repeated. "I can remember that."

"Good." He tossed me aside, into Waspinator. He caught me and stumbled back with an indignant squawk. "That goes for the rest of you," the tyrant announced, whirling to address the human boys. "Any more questions?"

There were none.

"Release them," Megatron commanded. "And you humans, get to work!"

Waspinator manhandled me a little before finding the 'latch' on my power bonds. A bit of fumbling and I was free.

"Thanks," I told him, reaching back to touch his hand.

"Flezzshie-bot izz welcome," the Predacon answered.

I looked back, grinned, and in one swift movement wrapped one arm around his waist and the other hand around his upper arm. Waspinator let out a yell of protest, but it never got farther than that as I torqued my waist, sending him flying over my hip to land on his head with a loud clang.

That sound echoed about the demolished lobby, freezing all activity. Dinobot, trudging back to his post guarding the other humans, spun on his heel to face me with sword out. Terrorsaur fell off his perch on an upturned bench, and Tarantulas froze over the heads of the four human manual laborers, one of whom had dropped a rock on his foot and was swearing fluently. Megatron, who'd been walking away at the time, froze in mid-step.

As he turned to look at me, I dropped Waspinator's limp form on the ground and brushed myself off with my uninjured hand. "I just wanted to see if I could," I explained with a shrug.

"You do not seem to understand your position, fleshling," he growled. "Noo."

I cocked an eyebrow. "There's a difference between not knowing something and choosing to ignore it." I set myself, in a low fighter's stance that I hoped look professional. "Now. Will someone be returning the favor?"

"Girl," Megatron growled, "you risk your pathetic life in continuing to defy me." His eyes flickered to the right and left, and Terrorsaur and Scorponok moved toward me.

I backed up to put the Predacon ship at my back. "What can I say? A girl's gotta keep her self-respect." Terrorsaur rushed me in a fast stalk, and I sidestepped away, only to come within range of Scorponok. The scorpion-bot swung at me, and I ducked to let his pincer hit the ship's hull where my head had been. As he howled in pain I ducked under his arm and scampered away.

Straight into Dinobot's claws. I yelled and twisted, reaching up to his face, but my palm only grazed his cheek, smearing it with dark blood, before he snatched my wrist. A demonstration of calisthenics later, Chopperface had me in a hammerlock, with my other arm trapped firmly by the wrist in his iron (or whatever Transformers are made of) grip.

Megatron strode up to me and bent to eye level. "You are an interesting creature, indeed," he mused out loud, as I glared daggers at him. "Yess. Your foolhardiness is matched only by your fragility. A most dangerous combination, my dear. Yes, indeed." He straightened. "And yet you seem capable of defying my troops. Dinobot, I do believe this fleshling bloodied you."

Dinobot's eyes widened. He cranked the pressure on my hammerlock, making me hiss in pain, and let go of my other arm to wipe at his cheek. "This mech fluid..." he snarled musingly, examining the dark fluid on his claws, "is not mine. It is coming from..." He inhaled, growled softly, and gripped my arm again - this time, palm up. "By the Pit!" the warrior exclaimed. "This is no human!"

"What?!" exclaimed pretty much everyone who was brave or conscious enough to talk. I said it loudest.

"The mech fluid is coming from this cut on its hand. No human secretes this manner of liquid," Dinobot explained. "The scent is unique to Cybertronian manufacture."

"That's impossible," Tarantulas protested. "No Cybertronians exist on Earth in this time period."

"On the contrary," Megatron announced. "One does. " He bent again, his face now that of a cat with the canary in its sights. "Is that not true... Maximal?"

"Max - " I protested. "What are you talking about? I'm no - "

"Then explain why," Megatron thundered, "you bleed Cybertronian mech fluid."

"Look, I - " Then something else occurred to me - my second wish, to become a Transformer with a human beast mode. "Oh, hell," I said, hanging my head.

Misinterpreting my dismayed tone as surrender, Megatron smiled and brought my head up with the chin of his T-rex head. "You are the Maximal Observation Operative, are you not? Assigned to monitor the situation on Earth, report on the humans' level of technological advancement and watch for signs of interference or sabotage from... ah... criminal elements. Correct, yes?"

"Bzzt. Wrong." I glared. "I'm not a real Transformer, I've never been to Cybertron, and the only reason I bleed mech fluid is because - " I stopped.

"Yes?" Megs prompted.

[Hell, hell, hell!] I growled at myself. I'd been about to tell Megatron about Makeawish.com! [Geez, girl, why not sell him the secrets of the Free World while you're at it?] "I just do," I finished lamely.

"Well, cling to your lies, then, Operative," Megatron glared, standing. "I will have the truth from you. Dinobot, take her to the containment chamber. I will.. interview her more extensively later. Yess."

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Dinobot escorted me (that's the polite word for it) to a bottom-level room inside the ship, whose only furnishings were a plethora of cages hanging from the ceiling. [I remember those,] I thought as Dinobot flipped a lever on the wall, causing one of the cages to slowly lower to the ground. [Megatron's birdcage fetish.]

That thought made me shudder, and Dinobot mistook the reaction as being toward cages in general. "Consider yourself fortunate," he snarled, "that Megatron did not decree a worse fate for you. He does not take insubordination lightly."

"Lucky for me I'm not anyone's subordinate," I shot back.

"Hmph." Dinobot opened the cage door, shoved me inside, and slammed it shut behind me. "A word of advice, human. Do not anger Megatron any further. He has... a taste for pain."

[Oh, he'll get pain, all right,] I thought darkly. Then something else occurred to me. "You called me 'human'..."

Dinobot, turning to leave, paused to look over his shoulder. "What of it?"

"You're the one who noticed this." I held up my bleeding hand. "Do you not believe I'm a - a Cybertronian?"

Dinobot narrowed his eyes. "Let us say... I am suspending disbelief until a later time." He made for the exit.

[That's a good sign,] I thought. [I hope.] "Hey, wait!" I called as he disappeared.

Dinobot's head appeared from behind the doorjamb. "What now?"

I blinked. "Um - nothing. Never mind."

He hissed at me, then paused. "While you are in a talking mood," he said, half musing and half mocking, "what year is this, as humans measure time?"

"Two thousand two," I answered automatically. "Why?"

Dinobot chose to ignore my query. "What of energon? How abundant is it in this time period?"

I blinked, slowly. "There isn't any."

His head snapped up. "None?"

"None. Mostly we use petroleum products for energy."

Dinobot bared his teeth and I shrank back involuntarily. "That - fool," he growled, to himself rather than me. He turned, with military precision, and stormed away.

I stared after him. [That's a good sign, I guess.] Sighing, I curled up in the cage's corner. At least now I could finish my nap.

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I don't know how long I slept, but it seemed like I'd barely closed my eyes when angry shouts, muffled by distance and who-knows-how-many layers of Cybertronian metal, dragged me by my braided pigtails back into the Land of the Living. I moaned, loud enough to drown out the sounds raining at me from above, then quieted to listen. If I concentrated, I could make out a few words -

"Do you... question my orders, Dinobot!" That had to be Megatron. No mistaking the Evil Voice.

"...are but children! How dare you..." And that would be Dinobot. His words were harder to understand.

"...fool! The children are... pawns. Your... honor is your weakness!"

I grinned. Bad move, Megs.

"And your weakness is... and gross incompetence! I will not allow... lead the Predacons myself!"

"Is that a challenge?!"

"Dinobot, TERRORIZE!"

Clangs and lasers sounded in a cacophony that would make a heavy-metal drummer swallow his drumsticks. "Wish I could see what's going on," I muttered, then shouted, "Get him, Dinobot!" I don't think he heard.

The battle noise continued for several minutes, punctuated by shouts of "Traitor!" and "Die!" and other, more foul insults and challenges. Those boys burned my poor virgin ears. Then Megatron's voice bellowed, "Now, Waspinator!" and an explosion tremored the ship. A Velociraptor scream followed the tremor, making me wince. Dinobot had rebelled right on schedule - but at what cost?

Silence reigned again, and although it was hot and stuffy in the birdcage chamber, I found myself shivering. I scowled and wrapped my arms around myself as tromping footsteps sounded outside.

My visitors numbered three - Megatron and Scorponok, with an unconscious Dinobot slung between them. Both Megs and Dinobot were looking the worse for wear - Megatron with numerous small rents in his armor and a misaligned shoulder plate, and Dinobot with a loose knee joint and evil-looking burn marks all along his right side. From the explosion, I guessed. As I watched unobtrusively, a scowling Megatron flipped a wall-mounted lever, making another birdcage descend from the ceiling, and he and Scorponok shoved Dinobot inside. Dino stirred, growling at nightmares, as Megatron slammed the door shut.

"What will we do with him, Megatron?" Scorponok asked as the Predacon leader turned away.

"A very good question, Scorponok. Yesss. Dinobot is an able warrior - but has proved himself unworthy of my trust." Megatron's voice was musing, a bit subdued. "Ah, Dinobot. You are a true fool." He turned to me abruptly, making me jump. "See for yourself, Operative," he said pompously. "This is the fate of those who cross me."

I looked at Dinobot, then back at Megatron. "They get to take a nap?"

"Maximal scum!" Megatron whanged on my cage with his tail-arm, making me flinch. "Do you think your defiance will not go unpunished?"

"Is it my fault you're easy to bait?" I shot back.

"If you wish to keep your head attached to your shoulders, Operative, I suggest you do not test me further!" Megatron gave my cage one last whack and stomped off in a huff. Scorponok spared a moment to glare at me before following.

As I made faces at their retreating backs, dry stirring noises from behind me alerted me that Dinobot was awake. "You truly are a fool, human," he rasped after a moment.

I turned to him. "This from the guy in the next cage over." Indicating his wounds, I hedged, "If you don't mind my asking, what happened up there?"

Dinobot drew himself up as much as he could. "Waspinator," he hissed, "detonated a mining explosive by remote while Megatron and I were fighting. I was caught in the blast."

"Kinda against the rules?" I guessed.

"If you were truly a Maximal," sneered the raptor, "you would not need to ask."

"If I were a Maximal, I probably wouldn't be here," I shrugged. "None of this is supposed to be happening, you know."

Dull red eyes blinked slowly. "If you don't mind my asking," he said with subtle mockery, "what brings you to that conclusion?"

I drew my knees to my chest. I wanted to spill, but... "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"And what," Dinobot snorted, "is the promise of a Predacon to you?"

I looked up, catching his optics with my eyes. "I know you live and die by your honor," I said seriously. "If you give your word, I'll trust you to keep it."

Dinobot stared at me for a long moment, then looked away. "Then," he said quietly, "you have my word. I will not repeat to anyone what you tell me of this matter."

"Thanks." I leaned my head back against the bars. "Where to begin... oh... eight years ago. A television show came out in Canada, called Beasties. It was shipped to America one year later, renamed Beast Wars, and became something of a cult classic."

"I trust," Dinobot hissed, "that all of this is relevant to the main question."

"I was just getting to that. Dinobot - this is hard to say. The television show Beast Wars," I said slowly, "followed the exploits of - all you Transformers. You Predacons, and the Maximals that followed you through transwarp space." Dinobot's eyes widened. "But - there are differences. You all were supposed to land on Earth four million years in the past, have to deal with an overabundance of energon and alien landlords... lots of things. It lasted three seasons - three years, so it ended four years ago in America." [Has it really been that long?] I shook my head. "The only reason it's different is because of me. I made a stupid, selfish wish that I didn't think was going to come true, and as a result - here you are, and here I am." I stared at my palm, which had stopped bleeding a while ago. The new scab was blue-black. "And I guess I'm a Transformer now, for the same reason."

There was a short pause, during which I didn't dare to look at Dinobot. "Let me make sure I understand," the raptor said finally. "This... show ended, for you, four years in the past..."

"Right," I prompted.

"...And because of your.. wish..." Dinobot said the word like it was hard to force out, "our fight against the Maximals has been restarted, as if the events of this show had never taken place."

"That's right."

"By the PIT!" he screamed. I winced. "Then Megatron's gamble - history can be changed after all! Destiny is not fixed - by the primal program itself! Human - " he turned to me - "do you have any records of this - Beast Wars?"

I blinked. "I have a few episodes on my computer. Bad resolution, worse sound, but they're better than nothing."

"If and when we manage to escape," Dinobot said, as close to earnestly as he got, "I wish to see them."

"If you're sure," I said tentatively. "You don't think it's insulting to have all your battles and all reduced to entertainment for children?" Besides, one of my episodes was 'Code of Hero'. I didn't know about our favorite Predacon, but I would be mildly freaked out by witnessing my own death.

He bared his teeth. "Very much so," he hissed, "but in that decision I was quite soundly overruled."

"Say what?"

He chuckled low in his throat. "Girl, I will now relate a revelation of my own, but I do not particularly care whether you repeat it to others or not. Beast mode." Now a full raptor - at least in appearance - Dinobot sat back on his haunches. "During Megatron's attempt to steal the Golden Disk, he was approached by a representative of some human entertainment company or other. In short, he wanted the right to document Megatron's exploits, as well as those of any enemies he managed to make, for the purpose of selling them as a series on Earth - in the past time, so that Megatron's mission would not be endangered." The great raptor head nodded. "Megatron accepted."

"You mean - " It was my turn to stare in utter shock. "All that time you knew you were being filmed?"

"If you refer to your version of our war, then I have no idea." Dinobot fluttered his tongue. "Megatron has already taken the liberty of erasing the knowledge of the Earthlings' documentation from the other Predacons' memory banks. He tried to do the same with me." Raptor lips curved in a smile, an _expression that, as far as we humans know, no true raptor could ever duplicate. "Fortunately, I am in the habit of backing up my memory on a regular basis."

"Oh, my..." I trailed off. Then I sat bolt upright. "Wait. Megatron already made this deal? Then - aw, hell! I'm in a TV show right now!" I banged my head against the bars. "Assuming there's not something more interesting going on elsewhere. Ye gods!"

"The knowledge distresses you." Dinobot's voice was amused.

"Well - yeah! It's just - " I shivered. Voyeurism! "Like a permanent case of stage fright," I said instead.

"You are giving an adequate performance. Perhaps a bit on the... extravagant side."

"You sayin' I'm a ham?" I glared.

Dinobot turned his head to look at me with one eye. "Interpret it as you like."

"Yeah, well... Darn you." Fresh out of one-liners, I curled up in the cage's corner. "I'm gonna take a nap now."

Dinobot snorted but was otherwise silent. I went very still and concentrated on my breathing. In... out... in... out... don't think about anything, just drift... no, it wasn't working. I was too tense. I kept going over the Beast Wars shows in my mind, Dinobot's new information making me see certain things in a whole new light. [Maybe that's why Megatron always talks to himself,] I deduced. [He's just doing exposition. And Optimus's 'die-cast construction' comment - that was straight to the camera! Who knows when he figured it out, though - and, ye gods! Poor Silverbolt and Black Arachnea, always having to worry about... ugh.] I shuddered. [I will never be able to watch Discovery Channel again.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was just about to fall asleep again when Megatron, newly healed and cleaned up, had to stomp back into the brig with all the silent grace of a disemboweled Decepticon. "Operative," he stated as I wiped my eyes blearily, "I rather think it is time to earn your keep. Yess."

I squinted up at him. "Go take a long walk off a short pier."

Rather than throw another tantrum, which was what I was expecting, Megatron just smiled through gritted teeth. "Oh, now. Is that any way to speak to your new commander?"

"My what?!" I exclaimed.

"Her what?!" Dinobot echoed.

Megatron turned his fake smile on Dinobot. "It was your decision to betray me, Dinobot. Don't act surprised when you are replaced in my ranks."

"You - " I couldn't tell whether Dino's snarl was directed at Megs or me.

"Hold it, hold it." I wanted to stand up, but the cage was too short, so I settled for sitting up straight. "One question - and I know I'm gonna regret asking - but why, exactly, should I listen to you?"

Megatron's grin turned into a cobra's. "You recall your fellow prisoners."

"Hard to forget." I didn't like where this was going.

"Well, they are my insurance against your rebellion, yess." He stepped forward, using his massive purple bulk to maximum effect. "Disobey me, and the fleshling whelps will bear the brunt of my wrath."

[Oh, hell.] I hung my head. "I knew I would regret asking."

"Be that as it may..." Megatron's voice trailed off expectantly.

I hissed to myself. "All right. All right, you win. You have my loyalty, such as it is."

"For now - very well. I gladly accept your loyalty." The tone in Megs's voice made me sick to my stomach.

"Of course," I added, "you're gettin' shafted if I'm Dinobot's substitute. Number one, even if I was a Maximal - which I'm not - I can't transform. Number two, I can't fight, or pretty much do anything you'd find useful."

"Your defeat of Waspinator suggests otherwise," Megatron countered.

"You're impressed that I threw Waspinator over my hip?" I said snidely. "A Maximal in full battle mode isn't going to stand still long enough for me to do jujitsu on him."

"Oh, I'm sure your skills can be brought to acceptable levels." Megatron bent to fiddle with the lock on my cage. "As for transformation, that is easy enough." Finished, Megs stepped back as the cage door opened. "Come out, Operative. But try nothing, please; I have you covered." He gestured to the door, where Scorponok stood with his pincers open.

"Natalia," I grunted, obeying.

"What?"

"My name is Natalia." I cleared the door and stood. "We may as well get that straight right off."

"A human name? How amusing." Megatron looked me over. I forced myself not to fidget. Okay, so maybe five feet two inches of pale-skinned, black-haired human wasn't very impressive, but did he have to look at me like I was a turkey he had to fatten up three weeks before Thanksgiving?

Abruptly I remembered the Beast Wars documentation going on. I wondered briefly what they thought of all this.

"Well, then, Natalia." Megatron cleared his throat. "Do you know the general transformation procedure?"

I glared. "No."

"Then repeat after me. 'Computer, report unit designation and activation code.'" I stared at him like he was crazy. "Well? Do it, Operative."

It wasn't a request. I sighed. "Computer," I said dully, "report unit designation and activation code."

"Unit designation: Lunarscape," said a disembodied voice, making me jump. "Activation code: transform."

Megatron beamed. "An unaligned Transformer! Well, this is rare indeed. Lunarscape. Much more fitting than your fleshling designation."

"Okay," I said, looking around, "that was freaky." I was now convinced I was going insane. First the Beast Wars, now voices in my head. "And why was that voice male?" And how had it known my message board handle?

[Oh, duh,] I thought. I'd used the name when I'd made my wish. Makeawish.com strikes again.

"It is of little import, Lunarscape." Megatron made a move to put his hand on my head. I ducked away. "Now," he said commandingly, "you need only repeat aloud your name and activation code. Do so, Lunarscape."

"Natalia," I snapped. Megatron just glared. "Oh, hell. Lunarscape," I said doubtfully, "transform. Yipe!"

That 'yipe' was my general reaction to the actual process of transforming. I didn't really catch all of the twisted convolutions my body went through, but a rough sketch of the process would be that my body just plain split down the middle and turned itself inside out - with such speed and violence that I toppled over backwards, hitting the deck with a loud clang.

Which didn't seem to hurt as much as it should have. I lay there for a moment, my mind a total blank. [You're going to have to face the music sooner or later,] I told myself after a moment. [I made the wish - now let's see what crazy stuff Makeawish did to my body.]

I got up, slowly, awkwardly, keeping my eyes closed tightly - rather, optics shut off. Once I was reasonably balanced, I allowed myself to look.

Metal. Lots of metal. Mostly it was a cool medium-gray color, spruced up with patterns in turquoise and copper. As I moved, I could catch glimpses of dark circuitry between my joints. I had calf-height boots trimmed with turquoise on the tops and soles, and odd-looking copper bracelets - vaguely Celtic, to quote Barenaked Ladies - that looked like they were attached to my wrists. A single line of turquoise circles walked their way up my abdomen, becoming progressively smaller as they approached my ribcage. I pinched the skin between two of the circles experimentally. It gave as flesh might, but I barely felt the pinch. Turquoise strips formed something that looked like a strapless bra around a chest that I knew I hadn't had when I'd left the house that morning. Granted, they weren't exactly melons, but they were definitely a size bigger than before. Ick, I'm a Cybertronian Britney Spears. The same pattern encircled my hips and thighs, framing what I could only describe as hot pants.

[Whoever designed me is a pervert,] I thought.

Turning to look behind me, I caught sight of even more weirdness. Twin tails - they looked like tails, anyway - sprouted from my shoulder blades, each one originating just under a turquoise oval lined in copper. They were thin and whiplike, but flared at the ends into vaguely triangle-shaped fin-looking things. Four turquoise circles stood in a line on each one, the largest in the center of the fin and the smallest just past where it ceased being a fin and became a tail. They were long enough for a good foot and a half of length to drag on the floor if I let them.

"Too freaky," I judged, waving the tails through the air. "Cool, but freaky." I kinda wished I had a mirror. I didn't know what my head looked like.

Then something else occurred to me. "Where did my clothes go?"

"You refer to the flimsy blue things you had covering your body?" Dinobot spoke up. I started - I'd forgotten the Transformers were there. "I assume they were stored in subspace."

"Subspa - oh." I remembered the oh-so-convenient plot device. "Well, that's all right then."

Megatron looked me up and down critically. I forced myself not to wriggle under his eyes - the way I was dressed, I felt like... forget it, it's too disgusting to say. For the second time that day I heaped silent curses upon the head of whoever had designed me. "An interesting design, Lunarscape," the tyrant commented at last. "You still hold that you are not a Transformer?"

"I wasn't," I said to the floor. "And my name's still Natalia. I've been called that for almost eighteen years, no reason to stop now."

"Ah, but Lunarscape," he purred, beginning to walk around me, "if you have lived as a human for so long with no memory of your true origins - as I suspect - then your true name is the first step in... bringing you back into the fold." I lost my non-fidgeting resolve, finally having to clamp my hands about my shoulders. "After all - Maximal, Predacon, or non-aligned, we are all robots in disguise."

"Oh, ick."

Megatron finished his circuit around me and paused. "Rather ill-suited for combat," he pronounced, sounding a little disappointed.

"I did warn you I'm not a fighter," I answered, wrapping my tails around myself. Looking down, I added, "And what are these things, anyway?"

"Hmm." Megatron grabbed one in his T-Rex mouth, just below the fin. I yelled in pain - his teeth hurt, more than they should have - but Megs ignored me, yanking the tail up to examine it more closely. "Interesting," he commented at last. "Sensory tendrils, perhaps? Yess..." He pulled harder, absently, as if he'd forgotten that I was still attached - although thanks to a certain amount of excruciating pain from his tugging, I sure hadn't forgotten.

"Okay, that's enough," I gasped out, trying to yank from his grasp. It would have worked, except for the undeniable fact that every attempt sent bursts of fire lancing through my shoulder. After the relative numbness of the rest of my body, my tails seemed to be unnaturally tender. "That's enough!" I yelled again, then my other tail snaked up under his arm to strike him across the face.

I froze as Megatron's face morphed from musing to enraged. [Uh oh.]

"Megatron!" Scorponok exclaimed, starting forward. "Are you all right? Did she - "

Megatron stopped him with a glare. Slowly, deliberately, he released my tail, then before I could react he lashed out with a purple beam from his T-Rex head that hit me right in the sternum, sending me flying into a wall.

I slid to the ground, stunned. "Consider that your only warning," Megatron growled. "I do not expect to have to discipline you again." He turned away, then glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh - and welcome to the Predacons, Lunarscape."

"Yay," I said flatly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Megatron and Scorponok led (read: dragged) me up to the bridge, the other Predacons - minus Terrorsaur, I noted - seemed less than thrilled to see me. Surprised in Waspy's case, and intrigued in Tarantulas's, but definitely not thrilled. Well, that was all right - what with a bruised head and back, punctured tail, and open sucking chest wound, I was less than thrilled in general. Megatron, of course, only made matters worse by shoving me to the fore for a good old-fashioned classroom introduction.

"Predacons," he said, "Lunarscape here will be joining us. I'm sure you will all make her feel welcome. Yess," he added as an afterthought.

"Starting with a bandage, or something," I added pointedly, indicating my chest.

"Oh, nonsense. A mere scratch." Mere scratch, my foot. "Tarantulas, what headway have you made in locating the Maximal base?"

Tarry shook his head. "None at all, Megatron. I assume they are outside radar range."

"Even with the signal booster?"

"I did think of that," Tarantulas answered pointedly. "Unfortunately, the signal booster was destroyed in the crash. Like so many of this slagging ship's systems."

"Pity," Megatron shrugged, choosing to ignore the spider's veiled insults. "Keep working. I want that ship found."

"Megatron, this is pointless!" Tarantulas protested. "If the radar has not found anything by now, it is obviously useless. Besides, the Maximals are no doubt recovering from the crash as we are."

"Do you question my orders, Tarantulas?" Megatron's voice went low and dangerous. "The Maximals alone stand in the way of conquest now. They must be found and destroyed, now, before they ally themselves with the fleshlings!" He stomped over and shoved his face into Tarantulas's. "So get to work!"

"Hmph. Very well," Tarantulas sighed, with the nonchalance of one not wanting to admit defeat.

Meanwhile, Waspinator was examining me cautiously, like he couldn't decide whether to poke me with a stick or run away screaming. "You want something?" I said at last.

"New-bot izz same azz flezzshie-bot that made Wazzpinator fall over?" the wasp asked. "New-bot not look like flezzshie-bot at all."

I smiled wanly. "Yep. And my name's Natalia."

"Megatron zzay new-bot'zz name izz Lunarzzcape," Waspy pointed out smugly.

I glared at Megatron's turned back. "That's because Megatron doesn't listen."

Waspinator buzzed around me, and I wrapped my tails around my body self-consciously. "Natalia izz strange name," he complained. "Not good for new-bot. New-bot not flezzshie-bot."

Ooh, bad move. "Oh, really."

Waspinator landed in front of me, scrutinized my face, and shook his head stubbornly. "No flezzshie-bot partzz. New-bot nothing like flezzshie-bot."

"Wise words, Lunarscape," Megatron called from behind me. "Best for you to heed them."

That did it. I darted forward, thrust my hip into Waspinator's, and tossed him over with more force than I really needed to use. He flew and hit the bulkhead with a clatter of metal and a cry of protest.

Megatron shook his head. "Lunarscape, Lunarscape. You do enjoy torturing poor Waspinator, don't you?"

I shrugged as Waspinator picked himself up with an annoyed whine. "Woulda done it to you, but you're too big for me. He was convenient, that's all."

"Spoken like a true Predacon," Megatron beamed.

I shuddered. "Don't ever say that again."

"While this is rather entertaining," Tarantulas broke in, rising from his station, "I must ask - are those sensory tendrils our new recruit is sporting?"

Megs blinked. "I believe so, yess. Why do you ask?"

"I ask," Tarantulas said smugly, "because, if they are, I believe I can patch the radar into her sensory circuits and boost our signal."

I gulped. Tarantulas plus my body? This did not bode well.

"An inspired notion, spider. Lunarscape," Megatron said, his voice taking on an edge of command, "do come here, please."

I glanced from Megatron to Tarantulas. "You're gonna do weird stuff to me, aren't you?"

"Now!"

I came, but I wasn't happy about it. "That's better," Megatron said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I flinched away, but the tyrant held on firmly as Tarantulas fished two wires from his workstation. "While I rather understand your distress, Lunarscape," Megatron continued, "I expect your full cooperation. Understood?"

I nodded reluctantly. Tarantulas moved around behind me, wires in hand. "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit," he said, mock-reassuringly. "Hehehe." Or maybe he was trying to be reassuring... if he was, it wasn't working. This was Tarantulas, after all. The only time he wasn't creepy was probably when he was asleep. And the laugh did not help.

A sharp needle of pain in my left tail brought me back to the present. Its twin flared in my right, and I realized that the spider-bot had clipped the wires to my tail fins. I shut off my optics as Tarantulas moved back in front of me. "Hmm, I don't suppose you know where your cerebral input ports are located," Tarantulas mused. I shook my head mutely. "No matter. The standard location is right - here - " Something brushed my temple and I jerked back.

"Will you hold still?!" Megatron snapped.

"I'm trying!" Tarantulas's clawed hand wrapped around my head, keeping me from flinching again, as the wire was fixed to my temple. He repeated the process for the other side, then stepped back as I let my optics light up again.

I was now officially wired. Tarantulas stepped back, chuckling. "We'll see how this works," he stated, going back to his console and fiddling with the controls. "If I got the connections correct, we should see a vast improvement in our sensor range."

"And if you didn't?" Megatron asked offhandedly.

"Well," the spider chortled, "if I didn't, I imagine Lunarscape here will get her circuits overloaded." He shrugged. "Oh well!"

I started. "Now wait a minute - "

Tarantulas pressed a button. The world went white.

It was like someone unzipped my skin and opened me up to find one big giant eye that saw everything. I could see outside the ship as if its walls were glass, see the human prisoners, their blood surging with fear directed at the lone Predacon - Terrorsaur - who guarded them. I saw their neural activity as little flashes lighting the darkness in their skulls, saw their muscle activity as a warm, sluggish burgundy glow. I could see the Predacons' insides too, all the gears and tubes and other things for which I'm sure there's a name, all crackling with the energy that made them living beings. Far below, I saw Dinobot, his central processor nearly dormant, the repair systems inherent in his beast mode already working away at the injuries he'd sustained. I saw the insides of the Predacon ship, its guts smoking and melted together from all the damage it'd taken on its way to Earth. Something glowed redly deep within it, seething with an animal fury that made my skin prickle. And I saw my own insides, with servos unmarred by use, armor burnt at the edges where Megatron's attack had scored on me, smooth coils of wires and conduits clustering at my head and belly, around -

Hello. This was interesting.

Something was demanding attention outside the ship again. I wanted to linger, explore the limits and abilities of my own body, but alien commands flooded my synapses and my robot form obeyed of its own accord. [Has to be Tarantulas,] I thought, with a mixture of anger and revulsion that sent signals skittering across my neural pathways like droplets of electric venom.

My sense turned east, acting on Tarantulas's orders, and began to systematically scan the surrounding neighborhood. I thought about resisting, knew that I could, but some part of my inner eye saw the set of Megatron's face and the hard purpose in his thoughts. That discouraged any open rebellion on my part.

No matter. As my vision took in roads and stuffy McMansions, suburbs and strip malls, a plan was beginning to form.

Tarantulas guided my search in a series of loops with the Predacon ship at their center, peaking just past the city limits in some places. I saw rivers and lakes that I'd never known existed on this overdeveloped splat-shaped parcel of land, and a tree farm whose straight rows of spruce and fir were a sad and spooky parody of a forest, but no shipwrecked Maximals. I saw our rival school on the other end of the city, strangely empty for this time of day. Perhaps the Predacons' landing had instigated a state of emergency. Hey, even the Preds are good for something.

I was reflecting on the possibility of school being closed the rest of the week - a virtual certainty, I decided - when a black splotch crossed my vision. I - or I should say, Tarantulas pulling my strings - zoomed in with a speed that made me dizzy, and the dark shape resolved into the oblong Axalon.

Far away, Tarantulas's voice hissed, "There. The Maximal exploration ship. Hehehe..."

"Well done, Tarantulas," Megatron's voice echoed back. Cold shivers went up my spine and back down, making me convulse in spite of myself. "And as you predicted, the Maximals are hard at work repairing their vessel."

Now that I looked, I could see small figures moving about the ship. Rhinox was easily recognizable, as was Optimus, but the third I couldn't identify until he looked up. Rattrap. Cheetor was nowhere in sight, which brought me to realize that I couldn't see inside the Axalon as I could see outside the Pred ship, nor could I see the inner workings of the Maximals. [Maybe that only works over short distances,] I guessed.

Megatron was speaking again. "That being the case, I do believe that now is a most opportune time for an assault, yess. Their defenses will be offline; their guard, down. Tarantulas, unhook our new recruit."

"As you command, mighty Megatron," the spider answered with more than a hint of sarcasm. He yanked at the wires connecting my head to his console.

Hot, white slashes lanced across my eyes - my actual optics, for the figurative 'eye' that I'd been seeing with had vanished. The pain traveled down the back of my head and neck, slashed through my spine, sent my tails into frantic convulsions as my knees buckled, suddenly unable to hold my weight. I collapsed to the deck, paralyzed, but unconsciousness was a little late in coming. Therefore I heard Tarantulas saying, "Hmm, so the human-bot overloaded after all."

"Pity," Megatron replied, clearly not meaning it, "but we can't spare the time for her repair. The Maximals grow more prepared as we speak. Besides," he added, contempt evident in his voice, "I rather doubt she would be of much use in a fight." [Not to you,] I thought, regretting that I couldn't even summon the strength to glare at him.

Finally, unconsciousness arrived, and in apology for its lateness, I finally got to finish my nap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I awoke to the undeniable dull pain of cramps that came from sleeping in odd positions. For awhile I lay there, motionless, trying to gather the motivation to get up and stretch my knotted muscles. My body, typically, was perfectly willing to live with it and refused to budge. I was just about to give up and go back to sleep when the memories of everything that had happened flooded my head.

[Oh, hell,] I thought disgustedly, and opened my eyes.

I was lying on a bench, my limbs arranged haphazardly, which accounted for the cramps. Looking around, I saw I was back in the half-demolished lobby, across the room from the trussed-up human prisoners. Terrorsaur sat on a large chunk of concrete nearby, his body language dejected.

Noticing my movement as I sat up, Terrorsaur gave me a toothy smile. "About time you woke up, human-bot," he said.

"Bored?" I asked coolly, stretching my neck.

He ignored my question. "Megatron left me in charge of guarding both you and your little friends while he goes off to fight the Maximals," he ranted. "I'm a Predacon, by the Pit, not some fleshling babysitter." He scowled at me as if the whole thing was my fault as I walked up to him. "Now the other Predacons will get all the glory while I'm stuck here."

"You think he'll win?" My hand dropped to the copper clasp affixed to my belt. Shaped like a stylized diamond, it seemed an innocuous if interesting part of my person. Thanks to Tarantulas's meddling, however, I knew differently. I willed my optics to stay open and steady on Terrorsaur as an image took form in my mind.

"Of course he'll win," Terrorsaur snapped. "A fool Megatron may be, but even he can't be beaten by a crew of Maximal explorers."

"I don't know about that. Look!" I pointed, past him toward the lobby entrance. Terrorsaur jumped to his feet and whirled to face none other than Optimus Primal himself, backed up by Cheetor, Rhinox, and Rattrap, all in classic 'ta-da, the cavalry has arrived' poses.

"M-Maximals!" Terrorsaur choked. "How did you - "

Optimus's only answer was to unsheath his uber-cool saber and step forward in a two-handed guard stance. The other Maximals unholstered their own weapons and aimed for Terrorsaur's chest plate. His eyes widened at the sight of all that firepower directed at him. "You - you wouldn't dare!" he hissed. "I have human prisoners - "

Creeping up behind him, I reached into subspace, letting my robot body take over the motions - it knew what to do. Metal brushed my palm and I clenched my hand and drew forth a staff, or baton as might be more accurate. The shaft was a little over a foot long and dark gray metal with copper detailing, topped off with a light-blue crystal sphere framed by twin prongs of copper. I wasted only a moment examining it before activating it with a thought command and jamming the pointy end into Terrorsaur's back.

"YeeeAAAAUUUUGGH!" Terrorsaur's back arched with painful spasms as electricity generated from my baton flooded his systems. I held the charge with half my mind, maintaining the holograms of the Maximals with the other half. The little projector at the very center of my belt clasp flared brilliantly as it generated the complex illusion.

Finally I let the baton drop. Terrorsaur held his ground for a second or two, groaning, then slumped to his knees and collapsed. His back where I'd zapped him was smoking. Gripping the taser weapon firmly in one hand, I crouched and tapped at his shoulder. He didn't stir.

"That was easy enough," I muttered.

Shutting off the holographic projector, letting the ersatz Maximals fade into nonexistence, I turned to the human prisoners. "You all okay?" I asked. It seemed like the hero-ish thing to say.

They regarded me sullenly. "Whaddaya wanna know for, robot?" demanded a pudgy blonde girl, shifting in her bonds.

"Hey, I'm one of the good guys, all right?" [Sort of,] I amended. "Just hang on a minute." I approached the nearest prisoner, an obviously freshman boy, and set the prongs of my baton against the rhomboid-shaped controls to his power bonds. A brief charge - as powerful as I dared make it with human skin so close - and the little gizmo shorted out. The power bonds faded.

The freshman stood. "Where's the girl that was here before?" he demanded as I moved to the next person.

"She's - inside," I told him, lying through my teeth. "I'll set her free after I'm done here."

"She really a Cyber - whatever that guy said?" asked the same chubby girl who'd spoken first.

"Nope," I answered. "The blue guy's olfactory sensors were malfunctioning."

They seemed to believe me, which was heartening. I didn't feel like explaining my new robot-ness to anybody.

As the last of the humans left - without a word of thanks, I might add - something shiny caught my eye. I glanced around, tensing, but the flare of light had only come from a shard of mirror lying on the ground. Carefully I picked it up and examined the face it showed me. Like the rest of me, it was sheathed in cool-gray metal; somewhat broader than my own human face, its jaw stronger and chin more stubborn. My optics were bright copper and possessed of an almond shape that I'd failed to inherit from my father's Japanese heritage. My lips and eyebrows were turquoise, matching a line of dots that crossed my cheeks and nose like freckles. A turquoise headband rested on my brow, and from it swept a strange, spiky copper crest that resembled swept-back hair. The effect was, if not exactly beautiful or intimidating, at least appropriately attractive. [Well, if I had to be a robot,] I thought, [this is as good a form as any.]

With a sigh, I turned back to the ship. It was time to free Dinobot and get the heck outta here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinobot was awake when I finally found my way back to the brig - by this time convinced that Predacon warships are designed by Escher and built by the Cybertronian equivalent of crackheads. "So you are armed after all," he observed as I approached, nodding at my baton.

"In a manner of speaking." I shorted the cage lock, feeling mighty proud of myself, and the door swung open. Dinobot came out and stretched gratefully. "I don't think Terrorsaur's dead, although he probably will be once Megatron finds him." At Dinobot's prompting, I related how I'd defeated him.

"So," the raptor mused when I'd finished, "Megatron is leading his assault against the Maximals, and Terrorsaur is offline. And the human prisoners?"

"Running like heck last time I saw them." I shrugged. "Can't say I blame them."

Dinobot sneered. "The resort of those who cannot do anything else." He glanced at me. "Although in this instance, their actions have merit. Neither of us are in a condition to challenge Megatron when - if - he returns."

As usual, I spoke without thinking. "My house isn't too far from here. We could go there, rest up, and wait for the Maximals to finish slagging the Predacons."

The raptor growled at me but otherwise ignored my jibe. "Your Beast Wars records?" he queried.

"Soon as we get there, I promise."

"Then let us make haste."

[And let them eat cake,] I thought. Then something else occurred to me. "Hey, Dinobot?"

Dinobot, halfway to the door, paused and looked back at me. "Yes?"

I winced. "Could you go on ahead? I'll catch up."

"An odd request, human." Dinobot turned to face me fully. "Why must you delay?"

"It's - it's a human thing. Just go, all right? I won't be long."

Dinobot sighed. "Very well." He left, swishing his tail irritably.

"Beast mode," I said firmly, once I was sure he was gone. I wasn't sure whether my clothes would be gone or not once I went back to beast mode, and if they were, I'd have had to crawl under a rock if I'd transformed in front of Dinobot.

Although I can think of worse 'bots to see me in my birthday suit. In any case, once the dizzying transformation process was over with, I saw with relief that my clothes were intact and in place where they were supposed to be. "Very convenient," I said aloud. I wasn't looking forward to having to hide behind something every time I transformed.

Dinobot was waiting just outside the doorway, looking quite impatient. "You needed me to leave the room so you could transform?" he asked snidely.

"I had to check something first. It's a girl thing, okay?" Dinobot didn't look mollified. "Anyway, girl and raptor walking down the street is gonna look slightly less weird than robot and raptor."

"Not to mention," he added, "that reclaiming your beast mode will activate your self-repair systems."

"Yeah, there's that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinobot didn't quite understand the concept of suburbs. 'House' he got well enough, and 'group of houses' was only mildly shaky, but a large parcel of land set aside solely to build houses on? Forget it.

Not that I didn't try to explain. "Look, a contracting company buys the land, right? Then they pay people to come in and build houses on it. Then other people buy the houses, which is where the contractors make money."

Dinobot snarled. "And this makes sense to you?"

"It's not rocket science, Dinobot. What's not to understand?"

"It is an inefficient use of space. Can humans not live in apartments? This land could then be put to better use, weapons factories, for example, or energy generation."

"A lot of humans do live in apartments," I sighed, "mostly in cities. But having a house is a status symbol. Most people who can afford it want to live in an actual house. Besides," I shot a glare at him, "most folks wouldn't appreciate an attempt to Cybertron-ize Earth."

"This parcel of land is over-developed anyway," the raptor-bot pointed out smugly.

"Point." I was saved from further comment by having arrived at the lovely little two-story house where I lived. On the outside, there's nothing much to distinguish it from any other house in the neighborhood. On the inside... still nothing much to distinguish it, except the fact that no one else lives there. Just me, my mom, and two fish.

Dinobot eyed me nervously as I fumbled for my keys. "You dwell in this building?"

"Yup." I opened the door. "Careful of the steps," I told him, venturing inside. "They're slippery."

Dinobot hesitated at the doorframe. "It seems - close."

"It gets bigger. Come on, fraidy-bot," I said, just a little teasingly.

That got him moving. Dinobot came in after me, his steps slow and cautious, his claws extended as if he expected Mom's pictures of flowers and bunnies to jump off the wall and attack him. I made a mental note to keep his agitated tail away from anything breakable. Dinobot followed me tensely through the living room, eyeing the taupe-suede sofa, and into the kitchen.

What's the proper protocol when one has a Transformer over to play? Miss Manners would have a conniption fit with this one. "You - ah - want something to eat?" I offered.

"No."

"Right." I shrugged and grabbed myself an apple. Can't blame me for trying. "Well, you'll be wanting to see my files. Come on." Munching contentedly, I led Dinobot into the Pit.

Hmm. Interesting mental picture.

My computer still hadn't been turned off when I left it this morning - what seemed like ages ago. Dinobot was a little confused by the mouse, until I explained it to him - at length. Guess he's too used to DOS prompt styles. "You humans," he told me, "are very... odd."

I couldn't help laughing. "Welcome to Earth, Dinobot."

Chronologically speaking, the first episode I had was "Equal Measures" which, I recalled as the intro played, featured Dinobot in a subplot sort of way. As Dinobot-on-the-screen persuaded Cheetor to undertake a dangerous and truthfully stupid mission, the real Dinobot snarled in disgust. "Why am I - why is he cooperating with the Maximals?"

"Well... you joined them in the second episode," I admitted. "There were mitigating circumstances."

"Which were?"

"Among other things, you challenged Optimus for leadership and lost."

"Leadership of the Maximals?" Dinobot's head shot up. "You jest."

I shrugged. "Nope."

Dinobot turned his attention back to the show, growling softly to himself.

We made it through "Equal Measures", "Power Surge" which cracked Dinobot up, "A Better Mousetrap", and "Victory" before the telltale sounds of the front door being unlocked made me start. "Shoot, Mom's home," I announced. "You gotta hide."

Dinobot bristled as I cast about for a hiding spot. "Hide?" he demanded. "From a human?" He sounded miffed.

"It's for her protection, not yours. She'll have a coronary if she sees a dinosaur in the basement." I glanced up the steps as Mom's familiar footsteps sounded in the foyer.

"Natalia?" she called.

I started up the steps, hoping that Dinobot would listen to me. "Down here, Mom."

Mom appeared in the doorway above me, looking a little disheveled. Spending the day teaching third-graders will do that to you. Seeing her there, I was reminded how much we resembled each other. I have my father's mostly-Japanese hair and skin, but my blue eyes, face shape, and petite build were all inherited from my mother - although Mom has a bit more meat on her frame. But don't tell her I said that.

"Natalia," she breathed, practically flying down the steps. "Thank God you're all right!" She hugged me - I returned it gratefully. It had been a long day. "I heard what happened on the radio," Mom went on, pulling back to check me over. "Are you sure you're okay? I was so scared when I heard about those satellites - "

"Satellites?"

Mom gave me a surprised look. "That's what they said on the radio. Two satellites fell from their orbits and one of them crashed into the school. Isn't that what - "

"Oh. Yeah." If that's what the authorities were spouting, then I wasn't going to contradict them. Made things easier. "A satellite. Yeah, boy, that was scary, all right."

"They let out all the schools in the area early because of it. It was funny, at first they were saying it was terrorists - " Suddenly Mom stiffened. Her grip on my shoulders became painful. "Natalia," she said slowly, "don't panic. Go to the neighbor's house and call the police. All right?"

I followed her eyes and turned. Dinobot was standing at the foot of the steps, in robot mode, leaning against the doorjamb casually. "Dinobot, I told you - "

"You told me," the raptor-bot interrupted, "that there would be a - problem if your mother saw a dinosaur in the basement. I am clearly no dinosaur, at the moment."

I sighed. "You're doing this just to annoy me, aren't you?"

Mom was looking from me to him, her face blank with surprise. "Natalia, you know this - gentleman?"

I sighed. "Mom, this is Dinobot. Dinobot, this is my mom. Dinobot helped me get home," I told my now thoroughly confused mother. "He looks strange, I know, but he's... well, he's okay." I couldn't very well call Dinobot 'harmless' with him standing right there. Not even 'mostly harmless.'

Although it would be funny. Mom was floored for a few moments, staring at Dinobot, who of course was staring right back. Mom regained her composure quickly, though. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Dinobot," she said firmly.

"Likewise," Dinobot answered. "Your daughter was kind enough to offer me shelter for the time being."

"I see. Natalia, can I talk to you for a moment?"

[I'm doomed,] I thought. "Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't able to think up a plausible-sounding lie by the time Mom and I got to the living room, so I settled for the truth - most of it. I didn't mention the TV-show part, but I did tell her about the Predacon ship, and the Predacons - including my brief kidnapping episode, but excluding my subsequent transformation. I gave Dinobot the credit for our escape. "So now, he's here until he figures out what to do next. He can't go back to the Predacons," I finished, fidgeting. I could tell Mom didn't quite believe me.

"Natalia, assuming all this is true - and I'm not saying it is - how do you know that Dinobot is trustworthy? If he's one of these - Pred-a-whatevers - "

"Predacons," I offered helpfully. "And he's not going to hurt us. He's very honorable."

Mom made an exasperated noise. "I've told you, all boys seem all right when you first meet them, but you can never tell their true colors until - "

"Mo-ther," I couldn't help groaning. "He's not a teenage boy, for Pete's sake."

"Exactly. Teenage boys I could handle. This - " Mom shook her head. "He can stay here until nightfall, but then he'll have to leave, understand?"

"But Mom - "

"No buts."

Mom had her 'brick wall' face on - there was no arguing with her. "All right," I said reluctantly. I got up to leave.

Mom put a hand on my arm, halting me. "Hey," she said. "I'm glad you're okay."

I managed a wan smile. "Thanks, Mom."

When I came back downstairs, Dinobot was fumbling with the mouse, his odd-shaped hands making about as much headway as I did with math every night. "Mom says that you have to - "

"I heard," Dinobot hissed, absorbed in his attempts to manipulate the mouse. "Wise of her."

I blinked doubtfully. "It's gonna be awful cold out tonight."

"I'll manage." Dinobot snarled at the screen. "How do you make this infernal machine - "

I took the mouse from the Predacon before he could throw it through the monitor or something. "Let me." I pulled my Beast Wars folder back up. "Now where were we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen Beast Wars episodes, lots of explanations, and a brief bout of Dragon Ball Z Budokai later (I won), it was dark out and Mother was clearing her throat meaningfully. "I guess this is your cue to exit," I told him reluctantly.

"Indeed," Dinobot nodded.

I led him outside into the unfenced backyard, where he reverted to beast mode. "Hang on a second," I told him as he turned to leave. "Maybe I can check where all the Transformers are before you go anywhere."

"That would be useful," the Predacon exile admitted. "Do you remember how to use your sensory equipment?"

"Won't know 'til I try." I looked around - the surrounding area was deserted, and no one seemed to be at their windows. "Lunarscape, transform," I announced.

I was able to keep my footing this time around. Flaring my sensory tendrils, I shut off my optics and tried to remember how Tarantulas had worked things. I just needed to open that 'eye', and...

Slowly, very slowly, my inner vision cleared. I saw inside my robotic self, inside and through Dinobot, and in every house on the block - although I tried not to. I turned my gaze toward the high school, expecting the Predacons' new base to fall into my sight with ease. Instead, I had to strain to find it.

[Weird,] I thought. [I didn't have any trouble seeing my house from the Pred ship. Must have been the machine Tarantulas hooked me up to.] Somehow, though, I didn't think that was all of it. The edges of my vision were cloudy and dark. Nevertheless, I could make my sight penetrate into the Pred base, at least as far as the bridge, although the image I got was blurry and indistinct.

A purple Megatron-shaped smudge was pacing about the bridge, while a smaller blue Scorponok-shaped smudge cowered near the back. Something rippled, then broke, and I could see a red Terrorsaur-shape clambering out of a shimmery white pool - the CR-bath. Megatron stomped over and grabbed Terrorsaur, shaking the hapless flier like a dog with a chew toy. I couldn't help but grin. Obviously the spiritual descendant of The Screaming One was getting chewed out for letting Dinobot and me escape. Not that he didn't deserve it - that was a pretty cheap trick I'd pulled. I didn't see Tarantulas or Waspinator. Frowning, I pushed my senses a little harder. I couldn't see any farther into the base, but what I could see sharpened. Ghostly forms appeared in the other two CR baths, one faintly green and the other definitely possessing too many legs. "Looks like the Predacons lost," I reported aloud. "Waspinator and Tarantulas are in CR, and Terrorsaur just got out. Megatron looks awfully cranky."

Dinobot was watching me steadily. It made me uncomfortable. "And Scorponok?"

"Trying to look inconspicuous."

"None destroyed?" The raptor drew himself up. "It is unlikely, then, that the Maximals truly won. Can yo