2.June.07

Ripples

 By: Razor One

Author’s note:

 

This story occurs in a slightly altered history of Beast Wars and the differences are outlined within. This story takes place in early season 3, just after Optimal Situation.

 

Prologue

 

She stood upon the dais, a look of total concentration upon her face. The process she was about to undergo was as likely to kill her as succeed, but despite that possibility she held no fear regarding what was to happen. Already she knew that each day was a blessing, each moment of life as precious as a plentiful supply of energon.

 

The situation was worsening, or at least she was sure it had to be. They would never have dared to ask her to do this… to make this sacrifice otherwise. Only she was capable of this task; no other bot held her special… abilities. She was unique.

 

Furrows of concentration riddled her face as the Dais raised to the centre of the dark chamber. Gently, the armour on her back slid out of place, revealing a delicate treasure trove of circuitry and a metallic spine. A dull reflected light indicated her spark pulsing with anticipation. Wires snaked from above and below encircling around her legs and arms, pulling them out into a star shape.

 

Her look of concentration had long since passed into a trance. She felt nothing as the wires wrapped her in a tight embrace; she didn’t bat an eye as they began to glow with incandescent light, and she didn’t so much as flinch as each one snapped into place upon her spine like a predator moving in for the kill.

 

An explosion of thought assaulted her mind. In an instant she could see the march of history with absolute perspective, feel every molecule in the room, and even dissect the thoughts of those who had deemed this desperate action as… necessary. The sensation caused her to quickly draw in a slight breath.

 

“Can you sense the cause?” echoed a voice

 

“Yes,” she whispered; already she felt as though her body only vaguely belonged to her, “The problem is worse than the Collective fears.”

 

A shocked silence filled the chamber. Time, unlike most dimensions, behaved in much the same way as water; i.e., it was chaotic, difficult to predict on a small scale but followed certain rules at larger scales. It flowed. It rippled. Ripples in time were a regular occurrence, but their recent size and frequency had caused alarm amongst the united Collective. These newer ripples were of a magnitude sufficient to create the effect of someone throwing a massive boulder into the time stream; reality could already be altering to conform to some bizarre version of history and they would be almost powerless to stop it. Almost.

 

“Recommendation?” asked a different, younger voice

 

“Displacement.” She responded

 

“You may… proceed” choked the first voice

 

The optical wires drew tighter around her body. Optical energy flowed into her spine as she prepared for Displacement. Within seconds she felt energy surge within her body. At the speed of thought her mind expanded, she felt as though her spark was floating like a leaf on the wind, and for a fraction of a second she knew what it was to be a god.

 

In a searing flash of light she disappeared. Charred cables dropped away from the centre of the chamber as the dais lowered back into its original position.

 

“What’s done is done. Let’s hope this was worth it,” said a voice that echoed the thoughts of those whom had just witnessed the event, “With luck, she will arrive at the source.”

 

“Earth,” said another

 

***

 

“Explain ta me what exactly we’re doin’ in grid Deltron again?” whined Rattrap for what had to be the umpteenth time

 

“Big green needs us to take a look at the area in case more stasis pods are buried around here,” responded Cheetor in a tone as enthusiastic as the first time he’d said it

 

“Indeed, if there are more stasis pods in this area we are bound by duty to rescue our fallen comrades before Megatron can twist them into Predacons, especially now that Megatron has been relatively quiet,” said Silverbolt

 

Rattrap could have sworn he heard a quiet trumpeting sound every time Silverbolt made a speech like that, and he inwardly reminded himself to get a virus check.

 

“Sheesh, after da last time I’ll be glad if we don’t find any stasis pods.”

 

The others silently accepted the comment as they had done for the umpteenth time, not merely because they were tired of Rattrap saying it, but also because each of them, in some small measure, hoped that no more of their friends would risk having their circuits slagged by Megatron.

 

For Silverbolt the silence was especially poignant. The last time they’d found a stasis pod he’d grown… attached to the new life… even if it was considered a “Freak” by the others. He wouldn’t soon forget the new life he’d known as “Transmutate”.

 

“I believe we can cover more ground quickly if we split up,” said Silverbolt, “Cheetor, you go east, Rattrap, you take the west and I’ll take the north.”

 

“Eh, whatever you say bowser boy, as long as we meet back ‘ere in say, uh… fifteen cycles. I ain't too keen on getting my skid plate blasted by de Preds, y’know?” replied Rattrap.

 

As the trio went their separate ways, unbeknownst to them, a red dirt-stained hand burst forth from the soil.

 

***

 

Free! At last! She could feel that her hand had finally burst through to the surface. With an effort, she withdrew her hand and scrabbled at the loose soil above her, sending it tumbling down a deep tunnel below her. Blue sky yawned above her as fresh air rushed in.

 

Though the fembot was covered with dirt, she would have made an alluring sight for any bot that had laid eyes upon her. Ruby red armour glinted still despite the covering of dirt. Her well sculpted form showed a touch of artistry that most creators wouldn’t have bothered with. Her face was long, and seemed to speak volumes about a life of pain and grim determination. Though she was slight she was stronger than most bots, deceptively so, and though she had only a thin covering of armour she had the agility that allowed her to evade rather than absorb damage.

 

She squashed her elation for the moment as she tapped her left arm. An invisible band shimmered into existence, becoming a yellowish band of metal wrapped tightly around it. Craning her head, she checked the displacement band was in full working order. According to the band, she had about a dozen megacycles before she was recalled.

 

Standard displacement procedures meant that if she was in a time for roughly several decacycles, she would be recalled to prevent too much damage to the timeline. Time she had spent unfortunately cooped up underground. She fully intended to make good what little time she had left. With a quick movement, she tapped her left arm again, forcing the yellow metallic band to shimmer back into the safety of under space.

 

“So you’re free, big whoop!” Said a black bot that poked her head over the limb of the hole

 

“Shut up! I don’t need you irritating me on this mission!” Snapped the red fembot as she dragged herself out of the hole she’d dug over the last three months

 

“Listen Delta, the mission is scrapped, just abort while you still can!” replied the black bot

 

With a movement so swift that it was a blur, she unholstered a pistol and pointed it at the black bot. To anyone that cared to observe, it appeared as though she brandished the weapon towards emptiness.

 

“The mission is scrapped when I SAY it is!” spat the red bot known as Delta

 

“Hey, you’re the boss, what would I know… apart from the fact that you messed up,” replied the black bot

 

“Stay out of my business and let me do my job. The miscalculation was a matter of spatial coordinates, not temporal coordinates. I’m at the right time, just the wrong place.”

 

“And for all you know the Source is on the other side of this hell hole.”

 

“I got out of that hell hole I wound up in. I’ll locate the Source and neutralize it. Now go away!”

 

“Sure thing boss!” said the black bot, and promptly vanished in a puff.

 

Delta shook her head to clear away the frustration. Now was the time to enjoy her freedom. Several months trapped underground due to her displacement had made her edgy and eager to do her work.

 

But first, she needed information. She had to know about this place. With sharpened senses she noted tire tracks on the ground and the telltale scent of jet fuel. With a sense beyond sense, she could almost taste who had been in the area so recently.

 

Delta smiled deviously to herself. Not long now…

 

***

 

Cheetor had quickly scoured his area with nigh ultrasonic speed. A good wind and easy terrain had definitely been a help. Having his jets burning at full throttle had also helped a good deal. The pace had drained him a little, nothing that a good rest wouldn’t fix, and he was already on top of the rendezvous point.

 

As he alighted, he noticed something was amiss… had that hole been there before?

 

“Maximize!” exclaimed Cheetor

 

The silver, yellow, and teal cat transformed in a smooth ballet of technology. Becoming transmetal had given him grace as well as power.

 

Scanning the area constantly for Predacons, he edged closer to the hole, ever wary owing to the fact that someone or something had dug the hole.

 

He approached the lip of the hole with much trepidation and spied an empty darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Out of the darkness, a red blur shot forth and smacked him full force in the neck. The blow was so powerful it knocked him off balance and dazed him at the same time. Before he could fully recover his senses, he felt more than saw the red blur pummelling into him with thunderous force, beating him with the intent not to cripple or destroy him but to force him to lose consciousness.

 

As his world faded to black, one last thing remained prominent in his vision, a pair of crimson eyes looking down on him.

 

Victorious eyes.

 

***

 

“Interesting, yesss,” said Megatron as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

 

Months ago he had detected readings so compelling that he’d aborted a foray to destroy some of the apes that would one day grow to become a troublesome nuisance to his ancient ancestors.

 

With the powers of the Golden Disk in his hands, thanks to the traitor and turncoat Dinobot, his options for success were nigh limitless. Though he had failed in his attack on the Ark, the protohumans still remained a viable and sweet target.

 

Now he began to question his judgment for the first time. Perhaps events would have proceeded more smoothly had he attacked the protohumans instead of holding back.

 

His readings indicated that an exotic energy source had appeared inexplicably beneath the surface of the earth. He’d quickly moved to set up jamming stations in the area to prevent the Maximals from discovering it for themselves.

 

Though Megatron was no scientist, even he recognized that a new and exotic form of energy could mean anything from weapons, shielding, new methods of powering their bodies and perhaps even exotic alien technology. Though the readings were nothing like the meddling Aliens, his interest was most definitely piqued.

 

At first he had reckoned the source of the energy to be the twisted form of Transmutate. Powerful though the creature was, he recognized that it was merely a by-product of the raw power that had asserted itself beneath the surface of the earth.

 

Worryingly, the energy had faded since its initial flash into existence months ago. He’d realized too late that Transmutate hadn’t been the source after all. And still the energy source continued to diminish. Soon enough it would be too sparse to take advantage of.

 

And yet… his scanners did not lie. The source was clearly moving even now. Worse still, his scanners indicated Maximals in the area, one perilously close to his coveted exotic energy source.

 

His options exhausted, he could only think of one misbegotten miscreant that had both the finesse and intellect to get him what he needed, plus the intelligence to utilize it… Loathe as he was to admit it even to himself.

 

With a disgusted look on his face, he thumbed a comm.

 

“Tarantulas, I have a mission for you… yesss…”

 

***

 

 

Incapacitating the strange metallic cheetah transformer had been utter simplicity itself. Dragging his metallic hide to the cover of a nearby cave had been even simpler. Whatever metallic alloys he was composed of made him light, but strong. She’d needed to beat the bot quite thoroughly to incapacitate him.

 

Within moments they were within the recesses of a cave system that wormed its way through cliff sides near to where Delta had emerged. They were deep enough to evade an aerial or cursory search, yet still not so far as to make progress burdensome.

 

Withdrawing power manacles from her subspace pocket, she quickly bound the catbot at the hands and feet. Utilising a natural rock outcropping, she hung him like a hunk of meat, feet just off the floor.

 

Her actions were quickly vindicated, as the catbot began to stir. He would be far easier to interrogate like this. Though she had no love for the processes of interrogation, herself having been on the wrong end of such numerous times in the past, she recognised its necessity for this situation. She knew nothing of this world. The presence of Transformers, deep within Earth’s history, was already an insane violation of the timeline as she knew it.

 

In order to get a handle on things and cease the ripples in time, she had to get information. Information she would get one way or another from the cat.

 

He woke with a start, signaling the presence of advanced repair nanites in his system, something she noted down as further information about this world and any irritants she might come across.

 

“Optimus?” He croaked.

 

“No.” She said firmly

 

“Wha? Who? Who’s there?” he said, a slight edge of fear in his voice

 

Delta realised there was almost no illumination in the cave save for her crimson optics. With a slight pause she removed a flare from her subspace pocket.

 

As the reddish orange glow filled the cave, Cheetor noted with a start that he was facing a Predacon and he had no doubt in his mind that this had to be some new comrade who'd had had the cruel glove of Predacon grasp forced upon their innocent and unsuspecting mind.

 

“And now little cat... you will talk.”

 

“Give up now Pred,” he blustered, bravado taking the place of his earlier fear, “I’d sooner be scrap than squeal to Megadunce.”

 

“Megadunce?” she said, a minor scowl crossing her face, “You mean Megatron, don’t you?”

 

“So tell me pred,” he continued, with no wish to answer her question at all, “How long since Megs popped the stasis pod on you? How long since you were last a Maximal?”

 

Delta found the youthful bot to be utterly infuriating. Still, in his bluster and bravado he had provided her with some information after all. A bot called Megatron was leading some group of Predacons here; that much was clear. Who this Megatron was she could barely ascertain, as it had become quite popular on Cybertron for aspiring megalomaniacs to style themselves as “Megatron” to enhance their image of prestige in the eyes of their unwitting minions.

 

The stasis pod jab was likely something meant to insult her. He, laughably to her, seemed to be under the impression that stasis pods were things to be found lying about, inside of which one could flip a switch and simply alter the allegiance of those within. The very idea was so preposterous to her that she was tempted to consider this bot a local whacko and dismiss any info she got from him.

 

Still... he was all she had for the moment.

 

“Got nothing to say to that huh?” said the catbot impatiently at her thoughtful silence.

 

She smiled deviously at Cheetor, which set him on edge. Predacons usually had something nasty planned when they smiled like that. Unbeknownst to him, the armour plating on the Predacon's back had slowly been sliding away, revealing a delicate treasure trove of circuitry and a metallic spine. With a smooth movement, optical cables snaked out and moved forth under their own power to face Cheetor.

 

“You’d best hold still,” she said, still wearing that devious grin, “You WON’T like this.”

 

Cheetor could only stare forward with dawning terror; he’d never seen optical cables that behaved like that. Their shining light quickly rose to replace the dying light of the flare. They snaked closer to him probingly, searching... searching for chinks in his armour. Without the barest hiss, he felt one of the cables locate an entry into his inner chassis.

 

She must have seen the look of terror in his optics; he felt as though she relished his fear.

 

“Should have spoken up while you had the chance, cat...” she said as they both collapsed.

 

Though both were unconscious in the cave, a single pulsing, glowing optic cable connected the two.

 

***

 

“Dinobot to Optimus!” the Predacon cum Maximal growled through the comms, “I can find no sign of Cheetor in sector twelve!”

 

Optimus, miles away and searching his own sector, sighed slightly. He should never have ordered the trio to search grid Deltron for more stasis pods that morning.

 

“Proceed to sector thirteen, I’ll continue to search this vector,” he said with more confidence than he truly had.

 

When Rattrap and Silverbolt had reported Cheetor missing, Optimus had left the relative safety of their Ark base to help find him. He’d ordered Dinobot and Silverbolt to search along his search route, hopefully catching up to the catbot if he was simply out of comms range. Optimus and Rattrap meanwhile back tracked to where Cheetor had likely begun his search, just in case they had missed him and he was simply on his way back.

 

In both parties, one would search from the air, whilst the other would do a more detailed search from the ground.

 

“Hey Optimus!” squawked Rattrap, “What do I gotta do all the dirty work for?”

 

“You do precious little as it is while you sleep on the job, Vermin!” shouted Dinobot through the comms

 

“Listen Choppaface, at least I ain’t passin’ around any golden disks to Megatr-”

 

“Enough! Both of you!” snapped Optimus in frustration, “Concentrate on your search patterns and devote your attention on finding Cheetor!”

 

The static-filled commlink gave Optimus some slight satisfaction; that wasn’t the first time the two had bickered ever since Megatron had reclaimed the Golden Disk thanks to Dinobot’s treachery. Though Rattrap had appeared to forgive Dinobot he still kept bringing it up like some ghoulish effigy that he could hang over the ex-Predacon’s head.

 

Dinobot meanwhile seemed to be losing faith in himself, especially since the attack on the Ark and the near death of Optimus Prime. Though it had vindicated his belief that the future was changeable and thus his destiny was his own, it had failed to deliver his lost honour.

 

Rattrap's continuous jabs and Blackarachnia's recent defection hadn’t made things any easier for the grizzled warrior, and Optimus couldn’t help but sympathise. The conflict had been growing steadily more complex as time wore on, and despite his new Optimal body, he felt the weight and responsibility of that conflict weighing down on him.

 

With a shake of his head he broke out of his reverie. He’d come to the end of his search with no luck. The ground from start to finish had... was that a hole there?

 

Optimus quickly vectored to land as near to the hole in the ground as he could. Though holes were natural features of this planet's terrain, they usually did not appear in the space of a few megacycles.

 

With a loud mechanical whirr he Maximised and stomped closer to the hole. Though he was still adjusting to his new body he found that it was surprisingly dextrous, allowing him to get quite close to the ground if he needed to.

 

Though the soil was mostly rock, what little dirt there was indicated signs of a struggle. Drag marks led away from the hole towards a nearby cliff.

 

With a speed entirely alien to his immense bulk, he thundered towards the cliff that had recently been pushed up in a series of earthquakes that had revealed Transmutate's stasis Pod not long ago. The drag marks fed right into a nearby cave... a cave too small to accommodate Optimus' size.

 

“Optimus to all units, converge on my position, I may have found Cheetor.”

 

***

 

 

Cheetor awoke with a start. This was most certainly not the cave he’d been interrogated in.

 

He was confronted with polished wood, a stone hearth, soft green carpeting, and shelves upon shelves of books surrounding the walls. Within the hearth burned a roaring fire, and near it sat a desk and chair with an open book lying upon it.

 

Cheetor picked himself up like a bot that didn’t know if he was awake or asleep. Gingerly he stepped closer.

 

Within the book was a picture, a moving picture, of him. He took a step back in surprise. The image mimicked him. He stepped closer. So too did the image.

 

Cheetor’s head span in circles. His every move was being mimicked by the book. With an effort, he propped up the front cover of the book to check the title, and noticed that it had the current date. He would have investigated further had a loud clatter not interrupted him.

 

The sound was offensive in an environment so much like a library. It sounded as though someone was tearing through books, throwing them on the floor with no amount of delicacy whatsoever and then sifting through yet more books to tear apart.

 

Unexpectedly, a book was flung over a shelf and landed with a thud at his feet. Miraculously, the book survived the impact and popped open, revealing its contents.

 

“Optimus!” yelled a pre-transmetal Cheetor as the Axalon lifted off the ground.

 

The real Cheetor gasped. That had been the day the Axalon had nearly made it into space-- the day Megatron and his troops had feigned death.

 

Then the startling truth hit him: These books he was surrounded by were visual representations of his memories. The book on the table had been a work in progress, his memories for the day still being written within it before his very eyes.

 

Another book was flung over the shelves, knocking Cheetor on the head. As he rubbed his head, the book opened up to scene of pre-beast mode Cheetor and Optimus on Cybertron.

 

“Welcome aboard the Axalon,” said Optimus, proffering a hand, “On Earth they called this a Handshake,” he’d said to a much younger and more naive Cheetor.

 

Whoever this Predacon was, she was tearing through his memories with as much regard for them as one had for the dirt beneath their shoe. He had to stop her; he had to get her out of... out of his memory!

 

He threaded through the shelves, working his way towards the sound of the disturbance. With some dim burgeoning awareness he realized that she was going for his recent memories as well as general facts and figures. How many Maximals, how Many Predacons, important recent key events, etc.

 

With a start he realised exactly where those shelves lay. The more time he spent in this imaginative construct of his the more familiar and confident he became. He strode down a narrow corner and made a left into the aisle where he knew she was, and then he stopped dead cold.

 

The Predacon flurried through the books with a speed he found utterly incredible. She would occasionally find an odd book and rip pages out before tossing the book aside. She would then stick the relevant page onto her left hand, and before his eyes the page turned a sickly crumpled black before she let the page waft gently down the floor. Upon impact the pages would gradually un-crumple and regain its former colours.

 

All this she did with lightning like speed. All this might have been fascinating if Cheetor hadn’t come to the conclusion that this Predacon wasn’t stealing his memories.

 

He charged forward and seized her arm with every intention of pulling her away from the shelves and out of his mind. Instead she merely gave him a look sharp enough to cut diamond, and then flung him with unimaginable strength.

 

Not about to be deterred, Cheetor drew his hands together and fired green bolt after green bolt at her. These did nothing more than superficially singe her and after a few more shots she flung her hand again. This time, molten rock shot upwards and hardened instantaneously, forming a solid rock wall between them.

 

“Oh Come on!” yelled a frustrated Cheetor as he punched the rock wall, “Ow!”

 

“Psst!” hissed a black bot from behind a shelf.

 

Cheetor was so on edge he would have almost jumped out of his skin, if he had any.

 

“...Who the slag are you?” said Cheetor in a tone that defined bewilderment.

 

“Unimportant! Follow me if you want to get that clutch out of your precious little head!”

 

Cheetor hesitantly followed the mysterious black bot as she tore down aisles and between shelves so quickly that Cheetor could barely catch a glimpse of her disappearing form. He managed to keep up, though the trial of doing so greatly wore down his patience.

 

And then he stopped still. The wall and floors, even the roof abruptly changed here. The familiar green carpet and polished wood gave way instantly to red brick and torchlight; it resembled a castle of sorts.

 

“Down here!” called the black bot from deeper within the castle-like region, her voice emanating from within the shadows.

 

His decision made, Cheetor thundered after her. This was a library also, but it felt... older... more weatherworn. He continued a dogged pursuit of the black bot until another abrupt change struck him: The red brick changed into darker stonework, it was nearly black. The shelves themselves seemed dusty; the imprints of books that had once been there could be seen however.

 

In the red part of the castle-like library, the shelves were filled with books, yet in this section it was as if someone had ransacked the area, leaving almost nothing. Almost, that is, except for a single book on the shelf in front of him.

 

The black bot had disappeared. He no longer heard her urging him on, nor could he see any trace that she was still here.

 

The book must have been what she wanted him to find, or at least, that was the only explanation Cheetor could perceive. Gingerly he picked the book up. The pages were dog eared and, even from the outside, they appeared to have yellowed significantly. With only slight trepidation, he opened the book.

 

“Scream for me,” whispered the memory, “Just a little, and I’ll end it quickly for you.”

 

Cheetor could barely believe what he was seeing. Two dark fem-bots stood together, one had eyes of crimson, and the other of deepest black. Both seemed to have vehicular alt modes but what they transformed into was a mystery to Cheetor.

 

Shockingly, the black eyed bot had her hand inside the others chest and was squeezing at something. With a start he realised the black eyed bot was squeezing at her spark, her very soul, everything that she ever was and would be. With another start, he realised that the memory had painted bodies all around the pair.

 

He was witnessing the end of a massacre. Cheetor was utterly horrified by the sight. He wondered for a moment if this is what colony Omicron had looked like when Rampage had finished with it.

 

“You always were the most defiant one, Nightscape. Did you not think I would foil your plans against me? That I wouldn’t know of your treachery!?” spat the dark eyed bot

 

The most that Nightscape could do was sputter incomprehensibly. By some miracle of strength or chance, she was somehow standing up to the squeeze.

 

“Go... to... THE PIT!” screamed Nightscape before spitting at the dark eyed bot

 

A look of barely contained rage filled Nightscape's nemesis. With a single ripping move, she tore the spark from her chest. Nightscape didn’t utter a single sound, and Cheetor felt the distinct impression that not screaming had been the ultimate final act of spite towards her nemesis.

 

She slumped forward in a heap. As the memory faded, the dark-eyed bot held the spark up to her optics with mild curiosity, not in the least minding the mutilated bodies that littered the arena.

 

When the memory faded completely, Cheetor heard a sound that practically chilled his mech fluid.

 

A furious roar rumbled through the library so loudly that the dust on the shelves wafted up in massive draughts.

 

Cheetor looked back down to the memory/book he had just witnessed.

 

“Must’ve hit a nerve...”

 

***

 

Tarantulas chuckled as he came upon the Maximal and the clear source of so much of Megatron's interest lying in a heap in a cave.

 

Of course! It all seemed so simple now! The red Predacon was the source of the energy signature. Megatron was deluded if he believed for a moment that either of them could utilise the residual energy of a quantum displacement field to their advantage.

 

Still... the red Predacon could be of some use. She was definitely not part of Megatron’s brigade, and would just as likely threaten his plans as well as those of Megatron.

 

With a wheezing chuckle, he fired a shot laced with powerful cyber-venom at the red bot. Though the energy that permeated her systems would be useless, she herself might be of some use. At the very least it would distract Megatron from his more nefarious plans. At the very best, he’d be able to cannibalise parts from her structure. Though she seemed to be an older model there would definitely be some componentry he could make use of.

 

As Tarantulas severed the optic cable linking the two, he considered the Maximal as another matter.  Bringing him in would definitely please Megatron... oh yes... but it would prove to be a disadvantage for him if he did so. Removing a Maximal from the fight would tip the odds towards Megatron, and despite their common Predacon heritage and past ties, Tarantulas knew that victory for Megatron would mean defeat for himself and his plans.

 

No... Best to leave the Maximal be... for now at least.

 

With intricate motions, he bound the red Predacon in his webbing and began hauling her limp form deeper into the cave system from which he had emerged.

 

If he had calculated things correctly, events were soon going to favour his incessant scheming.

 

***

 

Rattrap was the first one to get to Optimus. Rough terrain had delayed him, whilst distance had delayed Silverbolt and Dinobot. With a click and whirr, the transmetal rat Maximised and approached his comparatively gargantuan leader.

 

“So... where’s spots, pops?” he said

 

“In there I think,” said Optimus, indicating the cave mouth and the tracks leading in.

 

Rattrap didn’t need to be told what was needed of him. He launched straight into complain mode.

 

“Leave all the work for the Rat, oh sure,” whined Rattrap as he crossed into the cave mouth

 

“There might also be one or two Predacons in there!” called Optimus.

 

“I want extra Hazard pay for this!” yelled Rattrap with gusto.

 

'Two Predacons, great, just great', thought Rattrap as he quietly moved through the cave. His gun was already unholstered and at the ready. He figured he could take two Predacons at the same time as long as he had the element of surprise. After all, he’d heard that Tigatron had once taken on three Preds at once back in the day. Rattrap's ego forbade his ever being outdone by a cat, even if said cat happened to be dearly departed.

 

Switching to infrared as the light from outside became too poor to see the way, Rattrap silently followed the disturbed soil until he came upon a spent flare.

 

A furrow creased his eye-ridge. He had to be close. As he rounded a corner, he practically smacked into the hanging form of the familiar transmetal cat. He was slung from the wrists over a natural overhang. Further drag marks indicated something had hauled something else further into the cave system but Rattrap wasn’t about to risk all and head deeper in. If he strained, he could hear some kind of muttering and the odd chuckle… generally not a good sign.

 

Utilising the many gadgets he had at his disposal, he quickly deactivated the power bonds that held Cheetor's limbs upright. He slid to the ground with a quiet thud and a silent crumple. Grumbling to himself, Rattrap hauled Cheetor all the way back to the cave entrance, all the while thinking of ways to claim workers' compensation for this new menial task if they ever got back to Cybertron. Despite this rather selfish thought, Rattrap was glad that Cheetor hadn’t been slagged too much.

 

“Cheetor!” exclaimed Optimus with an almost fatherly concern, “Cheetor, can you hear me?”

 

“...Ow...” grumbled Cheetor as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

 

“Rattrap, can you wait here for Dinobot?” said Optimus as soon as he had verified Cheetor was okay.

 

“Sure thing Boss Monkey, watcha got in mind?” said Rattrap

 

“I need to head back to base with Cheetor, Rhinox says Inferno and Quickstrike were spotted in the area and they’ll need some support, I’ve already sent Silverbolt along but he may need backup. I need you two to see why the Predacons are still interested in this area.”

 

“Hey, uh, boss monkey, about that hazard pay...”

 

“...shut up rattrap,” said Optimus, as he lifted off in the air with a limp Cheetor.

 

“I know I know... Shut up Rattrap...” he sighed as he sat down to wait for Dinobot.

 

***

 

Tarantulas chuckled. This would work out even better than he'd anticipated!

 

Oh yes! If this prize could be presented to Megatron in the correct manner, it could only mean a boon for him in far more ways than one.

 

A panicked writhing in his web caught his attention. Looking at the red fembot squirm in his net made every cruel inch of his transmetal body prickle with anticipation.

 

“Let me go!” she yelled with force.

 

“Now what would be the fun in that? Hmm?” Tarantulas inquired before chuckling to himself.

 

“You’ll find out just how “Fun” I can be if you don’t!” she hissed.

 

“We’ll see how much fun you’re in the mood for when Megatron sees you for himself.”

 

“You know, I’ve never known Tripredicus agents to work so willingly for lower-caste Predacons.”

 

“It comes with the jo- HOW DID YOU KNOW!?” Tarantulas yelled.

 

“Comes with the job,” she said smugly.

 

“No Matter,” said Tarantulas, “Megatron will likely want to know how the United Collective tracked him down here.”

 

Delta’s optics darkened. He knew she worked for the United Collective.

 

“How do I know?” said Tarantulas, mirroring her smug tone from earlier, “Oh, it comes with the job I assure you!” he said, chuckling all the while.

 

“Tell me, how is it that the Tripredicus council can afford to siphon energon away from the Predacon populace in the name of a war that will never happen nor be won?”

 

“The Tripredicus council has... plans... that will ensure the future of all our... kind…” said Tarantulas, cryptically.

 

“And that justifies murder, starvation, and censorship, huh?” snarled Delta.

 

“As if you would know!” snapped Tarantulas.

 

“I’ve lived long enough to know. I’ve seen it happening and I’ve been trying to stop it my whole life,” she said passionately.

 

“So sad that you’ve wasted so much effort,” he said, eyeing her with a degree of avarice, “Imagine the things you could have accomplished with a body like yours.”

 

Deltas optics darkened further.

 

“What the slag do you mean?” she practically spat.

 

“Only that I recognise good work on the part of your creator.”

 

“Let’s leave my creator out of this,” she said acidly.

 

“Or what?” challenged the nefarious spider.

 

“Or you’ll share her fate.”

 

Grumbling, Tarantulas increased his pace as he traversed through the bowels of the earth.

 

The sooner he got this piece of slag to base the better.

 

***

 

Optimus walked into the remains of the Axalon within the volcano that housed the Ark. The attackers upon the Ark had been driven off with the arrival of Optimus Primal, leading to a rather uneventful trip to the CR Chamber for Cheetor.

 

“So... how is he?” asked Optimus

 

“He just got banged up,” said Rhinox, “He’ll recover-- but the interesting part is this…”

 

Optimus looked at the object Rhinox held; it wasn’t very long, it had been torn, but it was still nonetheless recognisable.

 

“An optic cable?” hazarded Optimus.

 

“Yup,” said Rhinox glibly, “Whoever banged up Cheetor was also trying to extract information from him.”

 

“Hmmm... this doesn’t seem to be Megatron's style,” mused Optimus.

 

“Definitely not, the cable is too old.”

 

“Old?”

 

“It’s an older specimen that was used in transformer body parts and ships systems about a hundred stellar cycles ago. They were phased out when better more flexible and higher capacity optical cables came into usage.”

 

“So what does an old optic cable, beating Cheetor, and trying to get information from him and Megatron have to do with all this?”

 

“Now that’s the four million energon cube question,” said Blackarachnia as she walked in with Silverbolt in tow.

 

“Is Cheetor alright?” asked Silverbolt.

 

“We’ll be able to find out in a few cycles when he comes out,” said Optimus.

 

***

 

“So, Lizard Lips, have you always been dis slow or are you startin’ to rust on us?”

 

“Wretched vermin! I shall enjoy the look on your face when I rip it from your shoulders!” roared Dinobot.

 

“Temper temper!” teased Rattrap, “We got a job ta do y’know!”

 

Regaining his composure with amazing swiftness, Dinobot agreed.

 

“Yes... I shall save your long-overdue dismemberment for a more convenient time and place, vermin.”

 

“Apeface says we gotta check the area out and see why de preds are still snoopin' about.”

 

“Hmmm,” considered Dinobot, “Megatron has no further use for this area, presuming there to be no further stasis pods... he would only consider deploying further troops in the area if there was Energon to be had...”

 

“Oh, brilliant deduction Sherbot Holmes!”

 

“Silence vermin! Do you feel that?”

 

“Eh... feel what?”

 

Dinobot couldn’t place his finger on it. He felt odd, as though there was a roving tingle moving throughout his body, and every time he tried to locate it, it moved as if it were purposefully eluding him.

 

“Optimus to Rattrap, what’s the situation there?”

 

“Dis is yer roving robot reporter here, we ain't found slag and Dinobutt is feeling himself startin’ to get a terminal case of Rust-I-tis”

 

Fortunately, Optimus couldn’t hear the extremely insulting and expletive laden thought that Dinobot had chosen to express to Rattrap.

 

“There was an unnatural hole near the area that looks like the area where Cheetor might have been ambushed, check it out.”

 

“Eh... what about the caves?” asked Rattrap

 

“I don’t want you going in there without a little more backup, Rattrap, it could be an ambush.”

 

“Oh Sure, NOW he says it might be an ambush,” muttered Rattrap.

 

Whilst Rattrap had been whining, Dinobot had been following the drag marks back to the hole from which they had seemed to originate. Every step closer increased his odd feeling; he also began to feel uneasy.

 

Controlling what little fear he admitted to having, he edged towards the lip of the hole. To his enhanced sensors it appeared to go fairly deep.

 

“Wonder how deep dat goes?” pondered Rattrap, who had come up to Dinobot's side.

 

Dinobot grinned rather evilly at the thought, “Let’s find out,” he said, before shoving Rattrap over the edge.

 

“Yaaaaaah!” yelled Rattrap as he fell... and hit the bottom only fourteen feet down.

 

Rubbing his head, he gave a death glare to Dinobot.

 

“Veeeery funny!”

 

***

 

Blackarachnia studied the optic cable carefully. She’d swiped it of course, beneath the very noses of the Maximals and without permission. Only Silverbolt knew she had it, and he wasn’t about to dob her in.

 

Few things could stop the Predacon female when it came to a mystery that piqued her interest. Though she had once put her technical knowhow into plans for increasing her power, there would be time enough for that later. For now she had to earn the trust of the Maximals that had taken her in. If anyone was going to survive the Beast Wars it was going to be her, but to do that she needed to placate the Maximals for long enough to get back to Cybertron. For now she needed them to trust her and what better way than to get some answers about this mystery optic cable?

 

Ulterior motives aside, she was genuinely interested. How did an archaic optic cable end up in the middle of nowhere thousands of years before its own invention? To facilitate this, she was “Borrowing” Rhinox's lab. She was almost positive he wouldn’t mind when she had the results. Almost.

 

Rhinox, meanwhile, was attending to Cheetor.

 

“Cheetor,” said Rhinox in his gentlest tone, “Can you tell us what happened?”

 

Cheetor had finally emerged from the CR chamber. Though the damage had appeared superficial, a few critical components had been damaged when he had been assaulted. He was sitting in one of the Axalon’s bridge chairs and was still gathering his wits.

 

“Something hit me... some kind of new Pred...” he managed to stammer, “It... she... was fast...”

 

Cheetor winced. The cat clearly had a major head surge from his recent fight. He was also desperately trying to remember something of vital importance.

 

“Are you sure... she was a Predacon?” asked Rhinox.

 

“Definitely,” said Cheetor.

 

Optimus and Rhinox exchanged an uneasy glance. If Megatron was locating and activating stasis pods before even the Maximals could detect them, then the Beast Wars as they knew it might be drawing to a quick close.

 

Cheetor quickly cued in on the glance.

 

“No way was she with Megatron,” said Cheetor instantly.

 

“What makes you say that?” asked Optimus.

 

Cheetor shook his head with frustration. Logic told him that any new Predacons on earth would be working against them if not with Megatron. Then... why did his gut instinct tell him that for some impenetrable reason she was here to help? It made no sense...

 

“A regular pred would have slagged me... she was asking questions... trying to get answers... she didn’t even know who Megatron was.”

 

***

 

Megatron was pleased. The scurrilous spider had come through for him, for a change. Though Megatron fully expected to be stabbed in the back by the spider sooner or later he, for the moment at least, relished the fact that the spider had brought him the source of the mysterious energy.

 

The red bot was definitely the source. Scanners confirmed that.

 

There only remained the difficulty of... extracting that energy.

 

Such a shame... her creator had clearly gone to great lengths to build a masterpiece of technology and what Megatron could only refer to as art. The bot had a shapely, ruby red body. Sections of rotor blade stuck out where her shoulder blades would have been, evidently this bot transformed into a helicopter of some kind. Her left arm was slightly larger than the right, for what purpose he could scarcely imagine, and despite the asymmetry she carried herself with the gracefulness of a dancer.

 

Megatron was not in the slightest impressed, of course. What mattered, more often than not, was a mind capable of making rational decisions. And if he was right... this miscreant possessed nothing in that regard.

 

“Ah! A representative of the United Collective! Do come in and be welcome!” said Megatron sarcastically, “It’s not often we have traitors to our entire race in our midst!” he spat with entirely more venom.

 

“Megatron...” she said with recognition, “You’ve made quite a stir on Cybertron.”

 

“Me? Oh Do Tell!” said Megatron, eager to have his ego stroked.

 

“Where do I start? Because of your antics and stunts on this planet the Predacon people have suffered! The diplomatic repercussions on the Predacon populace has been nothing short of taxing,” she said with passion.

 

Megatron only gave a mock clap and a smile.

 

“Ah yes, you think you’re no traitor at all! In fact, you think that because you work with Maximals to... pacify our people that you’re some kind of patriot after all, yes? NO! You betray the very destiny of what it is to be Predacon!”

 

In the brief silence, Inferno, whom had been standing near Megatron, stiffened at his queen's moving speech. Quickstrike merely ogled the new red fembot; he hadn’t even listened. Rampage took it with utter indifference.

 

“You betray the spirit of our people.”

 

“Enough of this philosophical rhetoric!” yelled Megatron in frustration, “When Tarantulas is through with you, there won’t be enough left of your precious body to fill even a single recycling bin!”

 

“With respect, Megatron,” said Tarantulas without even the slightest sliver of respect for the tyrant, “The energy is useless in its present concentration... she’s only good for... spare parts…” he said, suppressing the urge to chuckle maniacally.

 

“Oh well... I do so hate to waste a good Predacon... but for you I shall make an exception!” spat Megatron, “Rampage! I think it’s time we put some of that delightful rage of yours to good use... scrap this... loyal Predacon... yesss...”

 

Rampage didn’t need a second urging. Ever since the loss of Transmutate he’d be very bitter towards the world and any chance to inflict just that little bit of pain would help ease his own. Much as he was loathe to do Megatron's bidding, he already felt the familiar feelings beginning to well up within his dark spark. This act promised to be the most fun he’d had since emerging from his stasis pod months ago.

 

He approached Delta with a lust for death caressing his face.

 

Delta’s optics brightened until two glowing pinpricks of white could be seen in their centres. With barely an effort she snapped the spiders webbing that had kept her hands bonded together and punched Quickstrike, whom had been nearest to her.

 

Inferno had his flame cannon ready within seconds but it was already too late. The red bot had bolted for the nearest air duct and had dove in head first.

 

Megatron was not in the slightest bit pleased at this rapid degeneration of events.

 

“Find her!” he bellowed with rage, “Find her and dismember her!”

 

Knowing better than to argue or delay with a furious Megatron on their hands, his troops went into high gear instantly.

 

***

 

“Chronophase,” said Blackarachnia simply, “This optic cable is saturated with it, not in any useful quantity but enough to register on a scan.”

 

“Rhinox?” queried Optimus

 

Though Optimus felt he could trust Blackarachnia for this judgement call, he knew he’d feel a little more confident on the verdict if Rhinox could confirm the result. Like it or not, Blackarachnia had only very recently defected to the Maximal side, and even then only after her future was put in jeopardy and Megatron had nearly slagged her.

 

Deep furrows of concentration crossed Rhinox's face as he stroked his chin.

 

“Yes... Chronophase...” he murmured, “I remember reading about it in a journal once... they saturate and object with chronitons and shunt it back through time...”

 

“Whoa,” said Cheetor, now practically back to his chipper former self, “I thought we could only travel through time in Transwarp?”

 

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” said Rhinox, “It was interesting stuff, with some major stumbling blocks preventing it from being practical... guess they figured out a way around that.”

 

“They?” queried Silverbolt

 

“Who knows,” said Optimus, “If it was the elders then they would have sent someone other than a lone Predacon.”

 

Blackarachnia cleared her throat to gain the group's attention.

 

“My scan also revealed a higher germanium to silicon ratio in the optic cable,” noting Silverbolt and Cheetor's blank looks, she added a small explanation, “Optic cables are made from these materials, usually exclusively. The only time a composition of the two occurred was when there was a critical shortage of these materials on Cybertron.”

 

“The only time any shortage of that kind occurred on Cybertron was about a hundred and fifty stellar cycles ago,” added Rhinox

 

“So... you mean?” said Cheetor incredulously

 

“Yep,” said Blackarachnia with a smirk, “You got beaten by an old timer.”

 

***

 

“Who gets all the work? The RAT gets all the work! Why I oughta give the-”

 

“Be Silent Vermin!” bellowed Dinobot down the hole.

 

“Come down here and make me!” yelled back Rattrap.

 

“Optimus to Rattrap, come in,” squawked Optimus over the radio.

 

“Hooo Optimus you owe me BIGTIME for this!” said Rattrap.

 

“Rhinox wants you to adjust your visual sensors to the following frequencies,” said Optimus as figures were relayed to Rattrap.

 

“And uh... just what exactly is big green looking for?” whined Rattrap, “Crushed Diamonds maybe?”

 

“... Shut up Rattrap.”

 

Begrudgingly, Rattrap went to work adjusting his optics to “See” in the spectrum Rhinox wanted to look into. While Rattrap worked, Dinobot paced above the earth, both as an effort to present a more difficult target should he suddenly come under attack and as a method to vent his utter boredom. Perhaps he should have gone down the hole instead...

 

“Okay Big green!” piped up Rattrap with a good deal more enthusiasm than Dinobot knew he had, “What does de rat have to sniff out?”

 

“Look for anything that glows brightly in your vision,” explained Rhinox.

 

“Hoho! No need to dig deep den! The whole area is brighter den a laserworks!” exclaimed Rattrap.

 

“Are you sure?” asked Rhinox

 

“Is Optimus Large and in Charge?” asked Rattrap rhetorically.

 

Dinobot, bearing silent and especially suffering witness, gave serious consideration to burying the rat alive.

 

“Can you trace it back? Find out where it originated?”

 

“Uh yeah...” said Rattrap, “looks like it comes from the bottom of this hole... it don’t go no further den dat. Say, when can I get outta here?”

 

“Head back to the surface and await further instructions,” said Optimus.

 

Rattrap, for once, was glad of this, and quickly scrabbled his way back up towards daylight.

 

The final leg was a mildly difficult climb up nearly a dozen feet of loosely packed dirt; eventually the transmetal rat got a hand on the edge of the hole that had granted him access. With a suddenness that cost him his handhold, the dirt gave way... but he did not fall...

 

Three long, brown, slender reptilian fingers held him fast from falling back from whence he came.

 

“Ah, vermin,” said Dinobot, “As usual your stench precedes you.”

 

***

 

They flushed her out of the air ducts with practiced ease. Clearly, a few of these Predacons had had to deal with intruders within their air ducts before. As flame belched forth from behind her she launched herself through the thin grating into the ambush she knew awaited her.

 

She sprawled out onto the floor as flames shot forth above her. She promptly tried to get up but was just as promptly shot in the back by a green bolt.

 

“Well howdy sugah bot! Yer quite the slippery snake!” complimented Quickstrike, “Now, I’d love to get ta know ya better but old Boss-Bot gave orders to kick yer keester!”

 

Delta span around with profound rapidity and kicked out Quickstrike's legs from beneath him, sending the fuzor tumbling backwards to land on his head.

 

Hearing other Predacons approaching, she quickly picked up Quickstrike by the chest whilst he was still seeing stars and rammed him with deceptive force into the wall. The metallic wall caved in to accommodate his form, leaving the fuzor trapped.

 

Her work done, Delta quickly dashed down the corridors of the Darksyde. She was lost. She had no clue how to get out of the ship. For the moment she was going on pure gut instinct, using all her talents to survive the Predacon onslaught brought to bear against her.

 

“Just like old times,” she thought absently.

 

She darted around a corner just as a panel slid into place behind her. She tried to head left but was intercepted by another sliding panel. They were rounding her to some part of the ship like a rat in a maze… Definitely not good for her.

 

“Buzzzz-bot will face Wazzzpinator!” said a buzzing voice from behind her.

 

Delta slowly turned around. Why this Predacon hadn’t shot her on sight became immediately apparent to her. The hand that held his dartgun trembled with barely contained fear. She personally doubted the wasplike bot could hit the broadside of a planet, let alone her slender form.

 

With instant inspiration, she smiled at the wasplike bot. This served only to increase the trembling and jitteriness of Waspinator.

 

“Come now Waspinator,” she said in a voice that dripped like honey, “We don’t have to be enemies,” she said, slowly stepping towards him with a walk deliberately calculated to be enticing, “Why... we could be far more…”

 

“Zzzztay back!” cried Waspintor, brandishing his weapon threateningly… Which did nothing to deter the ruby red fembot. Just as she had calculated, both fear and shock at her actions had rendered him almost paralysed with dread.

 

It was at this moment --within the pinnacle of fear, shock and proximity-- that she chose to calmly reach out and wring the wasp's neck. She squeezed with only one hand as the green bot jittered and yelped in pain. Her grip was strong enough to crush parts of the neck, preventing Waspinator from even controlling his lower body.

 

Instead, he spasmed and yelped in pain as sparks flew from his rapidly crushing neck. The whole time Delta had a look of utter glee on her face until finally her enemy's optics darkened and he sank into stasis lock.

 

With a hint of contempt she dropped the mere speed bump in the way of her escape aside... only to come face to face with the fully-fledged roadblock.

 

The imposing red, crablike form of Rampage blocked any passage beyond. He practically filled the corridor and Delta instinctively knew that any attempt to push past the large transformer would only end in a painful death. There was something curiously ominous about this particular bot as well; it brought a mental shiver to her.

 

“Oh such brutality! Such pain! You relished his pain almost as much as I did! It’s such a shame that you didn’t prolong his suffering, because nothing will stop me from prolonging yours!”

 

***

 

“Well, Rattrap says the tunnel is coated with Chronophase particles,” said Rhinox, “That means she had to have emerged there”

 

“Tunnel?” asked Cheetor

 

“There’s a hole near the cave where we found you,” explained Optimus.

 

“I think I remember what happened to me,” said Cheetor, “I went to check out that hole. Never can be too careful, right? This new pred jumped me... and tried to hack some info from my net core.”

 

“Makes sense,” said Rhinox as he looked the optic cable over, “These cables are usually used to transfer information to and from bots.”

 

“Thing is... I think I got some info from her too,” said Cheetor

 

“What is it Cheetor?” asked Optimus, “You can tell us.”

 

A furrow of concentration appeared on Cheetor's face as he tried to sift through the information in his mind. Images of the massacre he witnessed interspersed with great piles of Transformer bodies and burning buildings filled his mind, disturbing him to no end. Gradually, however, he came upon the information he needed. Words he’d been unfamiliar with began to crop up.

 

“Something about... displacement... ripples in time,” struggled Cheetor, “Some kind of crisis in the time stream?” he ventured more to himself than his audience, “The point is... I think she was sent here to help... by an organisation called... U.C.” he struggled, “That’s all I have. I don’t know if that’s an acronym or what.”

 

“The United Collective?” Hazarded Blackarachnia.

 

Cheetor’s eyes widened in recognition, “Yes! That’s them!”

 

Silverbolt, who had been hovering about in the background, piped up.

 

“Who or what is the United Collective?” he asked, hoping the question was not a stupid one.

 

“The United Collective, Bowser, is a radical group of Predacons opposed to the Tripredicus Council,” said Blackarachnia.

 

“They’ve been linked to several bombings and raids on High Security Predacon interests on Cybertron and beyond. It was believed that they were eradicated in the last great purge forty stellar cycles ago,” said Rhinox.

 

“Purge?” queried Silverbolt.

 

Blackarachnia drew a claw across her throat whilst imitating the look of a bot drooling oil at the same time to indicate precisely what “Purge” had meant to those on the receiving end of the purging.

 

“Looks like not all of them got purged,” said Cheetor.

 

“Apparently so,” said Optimus, “It’s also apparent that we’ve got to rescue her.”

 

***

 

“WHAT!?” yelled Rattrap loudly enough to scare birds some distance off

 

“I said we may have to prepare a rescue mission for this new Predaco,n” said Optimus.

 

“Explain to me EXACTLY how the words ‘Pred’ and ‘Rescue’ fit together!” said Rattrap with every bit of incredulity he could muster.

 

“Rhinox says that this United Collective agent wouldn’t have been sent without a means of getting her back,” said Optimus over the commlink.

 

“And dis means we gotta rescue her how?” said Rattrap with as much ichor as he could muster.

 

“It means, you repugnant rodent, that we can give her a message to deliver to the council of elders for support!” snarled Dinobot angrily.

 

“Dinobot is correct. Like it or not, Rattrap, when her organisation comes to retrieve her it could mean our best hope for ending the Beast Wars... of seeing Cybertron once more.”

 

“Oh you HAD to say the ‘C’ word didn’t ya? Oh all right!” relented Rattrap.

 

“Hold your position until we get there, Rhinox and Silverbolt are staying back at the base, do not engage the Predacons if you can avoid doing so, Optimus out.”

 

“Man, rescuing damsel Preds in distress! What’s next? A tea party?!” cried Rattrap in frustration.

 

***

 

Delta stared down the long black barrel of Rampage's triple-barreled missile launcher; indeed, she found herself unable to look away, for the weapon filled most of the corridor with the ominous, imminent threat of death, destruction, and devastation.

 

“So glad! So sad! So long!” cackled Rampage as he pulled the trigger.

 

The next few fractions of a second passed very, very slowly for Delta. The flames from Rampages triple barrelled weapon exploded forth ahead of the encroaching missile, which Delta noted had an atomic symbol etched upon it.

 

She quickly moved to hit the deck, and as she did so time seemed to accelerate to her perspective. As she sprawled upon the ground the missile careened overhead and struck the wall she’d been backed up against.

 

Pain shot through her as the explosion tore metal asunder and sent fire shooting through the narrow corridors and airducts of the Darksyde. The entire ship shuddered with the force of the blast. The flames seemed never to cease as they charred Delta’s back and legs. Of Rampage she could make nothing, flames obscured her vision utterly.

 

Quite suddenly the flames ceased. Delta picked herself up and had to shake off a large metal panel that had collapsed upon her. Evidently it had borne the brunt of the explosion for her, but that still hadn’t left the ruby red fembot unscathed. The entire section that had been facing upwards towards the flames had been charred badly, and in certain places she could sense where the flames had licked and burnt until they had poked holes in her relatively thin armour.

 

Rampage, much to her relief, had suffered far worse. With no fortuitous panel to buffet the flames and with no other path to take, he’d taken the amplified full force of his own destructive concoction. Delta painfully stepped towards the blackened heap of the once menacing crablike bot. As she did she noted that the blast had blown the walls clear out, revealing the innards of the ship and offering her more avenues of escape. Noting this, she looked down to the heap that had once been Rampage.

 

“Good riddance to bad scrap,” she said as she turned away... only to find that her leg refused to let her depart.

 

She turned to find Rampages blackened hand gripping her leg with a hold of iron. Much to her horror, the charred blackened armour was slowly regaining its reddish hue... repairing itself before her very eyes.

 

“Leaving so soon?” he croaked.

 

Fear as she had never felt filled her. This... thing, for she believed that no “natural” transformer held the same regenerative powers she had just observed, appeared to be utterly unstoppable. It had taken the full force of a blast from its own undoubtedly impressive weapons and was even now repairing the damage as she would a minor paint chip. Such a thing, she reasoned, was nothing to be trifled with and so she decided to do the smart thing.

 

Delta wrenched her foot free and ran like hell, yet despite the furious pace she set charging through the unfamiliar Predacon ship she could literally feel Rampage on her tail. In desperation, she turned towards the narrow regions between bulkheads, weaving between them in an effort to force the bulkier terror to give up the chase. To her surprise, and continued horror, he merely charged through the bulkheads with the power and ferocity of a rampaging bull, rending metal and circuits with complete disregard. Despite the apparent strength of the metal it seemed as nothing to the monstrosity that chased her. She could only imagine the twisted minds that had brought it into existence, the destruction it was capable of. Somehow Megatron had to have an ingenious method of controlling it.

 

Noticing a change Delta stopped running momentarily and looked back. Yet upon seeing nothing, she became puzzled. Just ahead of her, the bulkhead crashed in as Rampage tore through the bulkhead to her right and smashed on through to the other side and beyond. Had she continued running, the red maniac would have undoubtedly collected her on his express trip to pain.

 

Acting quickly again, she began climbing up the wall towards a vertical airshaft. Making the chase like this would probably make things more difficult for the crab bot, she hoped.

 

She happened on an opening in the air shaft and greedily made for it... only to be confronted by another red robot that resembled a red ant who didn’t hesitate to fire a shot squarely in her chest.

 

“For the glory of the royalty!” cried Inferno as Delta fell sprawling backwards.

 

She lost all grip on the airshaft and tumbled first into a wall, then into another, before finally hitting and warping the floor. Coughing and spitting up mech fluid, Delta decided she wasn’t having the best of days.

The towering form of her tormentor merely confirmed this notion in her mind.

 

“Mmmmm,” he said, as though salivating over some delicacy, “Your fear, and your pain! It is exquisite! I haven’t had this much fun since I last parted ways with my former playmate!”

 

“He must’ve been one masochistic creation of a clutch” she managed to splutter.

 

“Oh that he was!” he immediately agreed, “I wonder... perhaps you could replace him...” he said.

 

Delta very much didn’t like where this was going. She tried, despite her damage, to drag herself away. Wracked with pain as she was however, her limbs only begrudgingly obeyed.

 

“Oh don’t leave yet!” yelled Rampage with glee.

 

With a simple kick he flipped her over so that she was lying on her back. An evil grin entered his face, clearly the precursor to some new torture. He raised his right leg as if to crush her, but Delta acted first. Cutting through her pain, she thrust her right leg up as fast and as hard as she could, smashing her shin right where the coils were.

 

Despite her slight frame, Delta was incredibly strong. Rampage’s optics brightened as he doubled over with admiration at his foe showing the presence of mind to act and astonishment at the level of strength she had displayed, not to mention pain. Delta dragged herself up to hobble away but was restrained by Rampage, whom evidently, his ability to cut through pain rivalled her own.

 

“I’ll FLAY YOU FOR THAT!” he roared

 

With one swift move he single handedly picked up the struggling form of Delta Scion and hurled the ruby red fembot through several walls. Rampage was definitely enjoying himself, as more mess would mean more for Megatron to clean up at the end of the day.

 

Delta found herself at the edge of a platform. Beyond her the jagged edges of where she had punched through the final wall resided, and behind her... a sheer fall into a pit of lava. She was severely damaged and she didn’t need an engineer to tell her that. Her right arm had ceased to function; her back definitely had shrapnel sticking through her armour and to make matters worse she was losing mech fluid, both through the amount that had dribbled through her many wounds and internally, and she was beginning to lose feeling in her legs, no doubt due to a piece of shrapnel sticking into one of her metallic vertebrae.

 

As she completed her damage assessment, Rampage stepped through the entry she had unwittingly forged when he had thrown her. With a supreme effort, she yet again stood, albeit unsteadily and slumped to a side. Her tenacity must have impressed the menacing maniac; Rampage seemed to look at her with some... approval, for she clearly must have interested the crab.

 

“Light Armor, Light weight,” he commented, “High strength, high tenacity...” he continued.

 

With a start, she realised he was judging her like a piece of meat...

 

“Too bad you couldn’t stand up to our first play session!” he said with an ominous tone.

 

Delta somehow sensed that this meant that the “play” was over and that soon... very soon... she would be nothing more than torn limbs thrown in a frenzy of bloodlust and violence. Dreading what she had to do, she knew that she no longer had a choice but to use the weapon that she had forever sworn never to use unless faced with the direst of evils.

 

With effort, she raised her left hand menacingly, “I think... I have... more play... left,” she managed to pant.

 

Through cracked optics, she saw the manic killer, smile. There was not a doubt in her mind that this crazy bot had killed before, she’d seen the look in his eyes, the enjoyment with which he derived from unnecessary punishment.

 

“Oh... I don’t think so...” said Rampage as he stomped towards her.

 

Without a shred of resistance, he let him grab her, lift her up. Surprisingly his touch was gentle, evidently a precursor of the pain and torment that would follow.

 

“Any last words?” he asked as though he wanted to put Delta out of her misery.

 

The ruby red fembot, battered, burned and certainly worse for wear, only managed to croak something inaudible. She appeared to be weakening, to Rampage’s eyes she seemed to experiencing a slow death. Indeed, he did feel her beginning to fade; this was the part he especially relished, the dying. Every death he witnessed seemed to bring him that much closer to the death he so fervently desired but would forever be denied.

 

Wanting to hear her final words, he brought her that much closer.

 

“Die!” she suddenly yelled and thrust her left hand right onto his chest where his spark lay

 

At first Rampage felt nothing... and then he roared with pain as he felt the life energy from his spark weaken. He looked at the red fembot who had a look of triumph and ecstasy in her eyes and to his horror saw what happened next.

 

She was repairing herself. Before his very eyes her armour knitted itself back together, mech fluid flowed back within her body. For Delta the feeling was glorious. It had been so long since she had extracted the life energy of another’s spark. But suddenly a new feeling assaulted her... a kind of darkness... before her eyes flashed images of carnage, of pain and destruction and torment and what was once ecstasy turned instantly into pain and anguish.

 

Roaring in torment, she tore her left hand away from the monstrosity’s chest, tearing away part of the chest plating that housed the spark of evil. It pulsed as though chastised, even the thing’s rate of repair seemed to have slowed significantly.

 

Startlingly to Delta, she found herself to have been repaired. Dawning astonishment covered her face as she realised that absorbing part of the things spark had given her, temporarily at least, to repair herself with the same speed and tenacity as the insane crab.

 

Rampage began to stir. Like as not the fraction of spark energy she had removed had only been enough to stun him. Sooner or later that relative safety would wear away and he would be after her... more so than ever before.

 

With no time to contemplate the full consequences of her actions she quickly rushed back into the corridor and up the vertical airshaft. This time she thrust her hand through the once treacherous opening and yanked the fire ant down, hurling him into the airshafts walls and leaving a satisfying crunch. She pushed herself through the opening and saw something that made her spark pulse with joy.

 

Daylight.

 

***

 

Megatron was not in the slightest bit pleased. He had been sitting in his throne room watching all the fun unfold and had to pat himself on the back for getting such a good asset as Rampage, even if he had the cleanliness of a scraplet.

 

Things however had gone badly awry. Who could have suspected that witch of a transformer had had a spark extractor built into her left arm. Spark extractors were so outlandish, so downright illegal on Cybertron that they warranted deconstruction of the bot crazy enough to have it built in. They were one of the forbidden accessories, even non-working mock up models were looked upon with derision fear and suspicion.

 

There was only one course of action to take of course.

 

“Quickstrike! Inferno! Rampage! Tarantulas! Waspinator! Regroup at the main entrance! NOW!” bellowed Megatron.

 

That festering wench had hardware he could make ample use of. He could only begin to imagine the uses that he could apply to that Spark Extractor. Using it he could annihilate the Autobots and merge his spark with the greatest of his Decepticon ancestors! He could become the greatest Predacon to ever live!

 

But it would all go to pieces if that damned fembot reached the Maximal base. She seemed to know the way as he watched her on sensors. Broodingly, Megatron cursed the red fembot and swore that she would definitely pay.

 

***

 

Delta charged past the autoguns that rose to fire at her. She could feel the hot blasts of plasma as they raced after her on trajectories designed to intersect hers. Knowing this, she kept her movements chaotic, darting, and especially unpredictable.

 

Finally, beyond reach of the autoguns, she collapsed in exhaustion, for the last few hours had been interesting to say the least. She’d been captured, dragged off, hunted down, beaten to a pulp, thrown through walls and had had to absorb part of a monster’s spark simply to survive.

 

As her systems struggled to get Energon to her deadened limbs, a new threat arose. One she feared she no longer had the stamina to face up to. She simply sat there as the orange, silver and blue robot whirled about in transformation, becoming...

 

“I am Optimus Primal, leader of the Maximals,” he said.

 

She looked up at him, finally recognising him from the pilfered memories of Cheetor. He looked very much like his ancient ancestor, Optimus Prime, even his very body had to have the essence of Optimus Prime about it.

 

As she observed the powerful Maximal Leader, more Maximals arrived. All told these Maximals looked a very odd bunch. One was a strange racecar/rat hybrid, another was a gigantic spider, another still was a brownish velociraptor.

 

To her surprise, the metal cat had arrived with the bunch. She half expected to get blasted by the entire party simply for what she had done to the cat. Instead... they transformed and waited, looking from their leader to her with something approaching expectation.

 

“Delta Scion,” she said weakly with her returning strength, “They’re... coming...”

 

With sharp eyes, the Maximals quickly saw what she had meant. Megatron and his gang of Predacons were bearing down on their position and had already started firing shots, one of which narrowly missed the towering Optimus Primal.

 

“Maximals! Roll out!” cried Optimus, mirroring a greater Prime’s famous battle cry.

 

Within moments the area which Delta had chosen to rest was a battleground, with Maximal and Predacon alike shooting bolts of death at each other. Delta had managed to drag herself to some ample cover. Though she was still weakened by both her fight and her flight, she fervently desired to join in battle against the Predacons. She now understood why they were here... why the Maximals were here... and the terrible consequences if they failed

 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the battle, Megatron cursed his terrible luck. Those interfering Maximals had ruined things for him again! And Tarantulas, the scurrilous spider, was nowhere to be seen! All things aside, he was outnumbered, but thankfully Rampage seemed to be pulling his weight for a change. Indeed the crab was living up to his name as he fired dozens of low powered missiles at the Maximals to force them undercover.

 

Rattrap however managed to shoot the weapon out of Rampage’s hands. Angered, the fearsome crab picked up a boulder and hurled it at the sneaky rat, who was forced to scatter as his cover was crushed.

 

Roaring with fury, Rampage picked up and hurled another boulder directly at Delta’s position. Delta, still exhausted couldn’t get out in time. The boulder crushed her covering boulder to dust and horribly mangled her legs, causing her to choke off an involuntary scream of pain.

 

That was the point that Tarantulas scurried out of hiding, making straight for the stricken fembot. Whilst the other Maximals battled the Predacons tooth and nail, none noticed exactly what the spider was up to.

 

The expression of agony on the ruby red fembot’s face was utterly beautiful to Tarantulas. He would definitely have liked to disembowel her spark right here and crush it with his bare claws, but doing so would take too much time, require too much effort, and would likely gain the attention of the Maximal fools.

 

Knowing exactly what to do, he tapped Delta’s left arm. Out of nowhere shimmered a yellowish metallic band... her recall device. It was how the United Collective had intended to retrieve her... it was why she was soaked with the exotic energy... it was all an effort towards retrieving her once she went back to her own time.

 

One he intended to rob her of.

 

With little effort, he tore the band from her arm. Instantly the red fembot was alert and furious. Despite her mangled legs she clawed her way to him, climbing up his chest and began scratching the living daylights out of the sneaky spider.

 

Tarantulas, unable to suffer further delays, beat the insane female from him, transformed and scurried away with a hurried anxiousness that hinted of deeper and darker plots to come.

 

Upon witnessing this, Megatron cursed his traitorous “Ally”. The damn spider knew something that he didn’t and that made the tyrant uneasy. Weighing his options, he knew he had to retreat now or suffer defeat.

 

Thinking quickly, he fired shot after shot in rapid succession, all the while yelling “Retreat! Retreat!!” at the top of his voice. The Maximals, forced under cover as they were, couldn’t give chase until the Predacons were too far to be worth it.

 

The Maximals had won the day.

 

***

 

Rampage was furious. He had been so close... so VERY close... just another few meters and he would have had her... he could have squeezed the life from her and regained what she had stolen from him!

 

Even now he could feel it... a part of him was missing... and he could hear it, screaming, crying out to rejoin him. In frustration he punched a nearby wall in, caving it in and likely damaging any electronics behind it.

 

No doubt Megatron was carefully watching him. He knew he didn’t have the trust of the tyrant, nor did he want it. For all Rampage cared Megatron could watch him until he rusted away, in the end he would be free... free to exact Vengeance upon both the tyrant lizard and that cursed ruby red fembot.

 

“Delta Scion...” he uttered, tasting the words, “I will kill you... slowly... and painfully!”

 

***

 

Optimus and Cheetor stood beyond the CR Chamber. The rest of the Maximals had been sent to other parts of the base. Like as not Optimus had a suspicion that things weren’t going to be the rosy ending he’d imagined when he had figured out this ruby red fembot had had a return ticket to Cybertron.

 

With a hiss and a click, the CR chamber popped open, and Cheetor finally got a good look at the fembot that had bested him. Her ruby red body caught the eye, whilst her well sculpted form arrested it. From her back protruded twin blades evident of a helicopter transformation. In the darkness of the cave Cheetor had presume her to be a former Maximal that had emerged with its loyalties twisted to that of a Predacon.

 

Looking upon her now, Cheetor knew she could never have emerged from a stasis pod. The lack of a beast mode precluded any doubt, she had come here from Cybertron... as she would soon be returning there, hopefully with a message to bear to the council of elders.

 

Gradually she awoke with the Maximal CR Chamber, her dim optics gradually brightening. She looked to the walls of the CR chamber as though she gazed upon an old friend and for the first time since arriving on Earth, smiled.

 

Noticing the two Maximals watching her, she quickly wiped the smile off her face and approached the two.

 

“Optimus Primal and... Cheetor,” she said without preamble, “I’ve had time to absorb the situation... get to grips with the information I... borrowed from Cheetor.”

 

Cheetor wished he could say the same. The images and memories he had gleaned from her mind in the strange and ultimately confusing adventure through the library had only continued to confuse him. He simply couldn’t make sense of it, and could hardly imagine such horrific events occurring anywhere in Cybertron’s history. Three hundred years of peace he’d been taught, three hundred years of cooperation. All he had got from her was evidence to the contrary. It shook him to the core.

 

“Then you know our situation,” said Optimus, “If we don’t get backup soon, despite our outnumbering Megatron we’ll be overrun given time”

 

“I understand,” she said sombrely, “But I cannot help you. During the battle my recall device was damaged and stolen by Tarantulas. What he wants with it I can scarcely imagine... but it means I’m stuck here.”

 

Both Maximals looked downcast. Their one major hope of getting a message to Cybertron had been dashed. It brought back bitter memories of the probe and the transwarp wave... every opportunity had been thwarted and the bite stung both Maximals.

 

“I also understand now the events that led to my being here...” she said as she turned to face the Ark, “Megatron tried to kill Optimus Prime... that was the catalyst. That’s what set the ripples in time roaring. I’ve arrived too late to prevent the incident... but perhaps I can help safeguard the future.”

 

“We could use your help,” said Optimus, “The more we fill our ranks with bots willing to defend the Ark and all those therein the more chance we have of stopping Megatron and protecting our future.”

 

“I’m flattered... but I can’t accept your offer. As much as I am used to working with Maximals... for the moment I don’t think I can tolerate living amongst you. But... you can count on me to defend the Ark.” She said

 

As Delta Scion moved towards the exit, Cheetor piped up.

 

“What’s with her?”

 

“She’s a proud Predacon,” said Optimus in a low voice, “Perhaps she’s too proud. She owes us her life and she knows it... living and working with us would be adding insult to injury, at least at the moment. Just give her time”

 

***

 

Tarantulas was ecstatic! The yellow metal band, though simple on the surface, had a depth to it that was astounding! His head swelled with possibilities! Oh the things he would do with the band!

 

The damage to the thing was a superficial matter. Given time and patience he could easily repair it... and alter it... change the device to suit his purposes and not those of the dim-witted United Collective.

 

Setting the device aside, Tarantulas stretched out and settled back for a nap, every bit the happy little spider he was...

 

Unbeknownst to him, a hidden camera watched his every move.

 

Megatron watched as the treacherous spider fell asleep.

 

“Ah yes... Spiders spin their webs...” he said, grinning evilly to himself, “But I spin them larger... yes...”