Blade of Steel, Blade of Glass
Part Two
Rattrap was having trouble getting through the Predacon base. Although the guards weren’t hard to sneak past, the security system was rather better than he had anticipated. The vents were the best place to pass unnoticed, but they were difficult to navigate and he was no longer certain of his location. He couldn’t risk being caught, but he could never put up the transmitters if he didn’t know where he was.
He took a side tunnel in the hopes of finding a grate and regaining his bearings. There was an opening ahead, he could tell from the air currents.
The vent led to a small room, entirely deserted and, oddly, without any doors to the rest of the ship. Checking for signs of traps, Rattrap cautiously clambered out of the opening and looked about.
Covered in dust and blinking random numbers from the display, a badly damaged hibernation pod sat in one corner of the room, apparently occupied. Immediately suspicious, Rattrap examined the room more carefully yet, but still found no signs that the Predacons had ever been in here.
Either the Predacons didn’t know about this or it was a trap. Rattrap was fairly certain it had to be the latter. With all the orbiting stasis pods already down, though, and destroyed or lost, he couldn’t pass up the chance that this was what it appeared to be: a hibernation chamber for one of the original inhabitants of the stolen Predacon ship.
He couldn’t open the pod here. Quite apart from the possibility of a trap, his own experimental signal-damper could never cover two active Transformers. Far safer to get it out, into Maximal territory. It wasn’t so very large, far smaller than a normal stasis pod; he could probably carry it.
The pod was barely able to fit through the vents and made a great deal too much noise for Rattrap’s comfort. Still, he was able to leave the base without anyone aware that he had been there. He had only placed two transmitters, but felt that he had already wasted too much time. According to the one near the control center, Waspinator and Quickstrike were still playing poker, but he didn’t know when someone might get back from patrol.
It wasn’t safe to contact Optimus until he was back in Maximal territory, and he didn’t want to do anything to the pod until he had instructions. Quietly but with as much speed as was feasible, Rattrap shifted to vehicle mode and secured the pod as best he could.
While the rat was slowly moving towards the Maximal base, Inferno was flying back from his patrol. Rattrap was being quieter than usual and might have escaped the ant’s notice--except that he ran directly into the Pred. This of course meant that after they had picked themselves up of the ground Rattrap wheeled away madly while Inferno screamed at the top off his lungs that the Maximal would BUUUUURN. It felt as though his tail was singed--which it probably was. This spurred the speedy rat to go even faster.
Rattrap decided that his best bet was to go to the nearest Maximal for backup. If he weren’t already out of the area, Depth Charge would be closest in quadrant Delta, near the ocean.
Rattrap was soon at the edge of the cliffs above the ocean, with the ant not far behind. The path was narrow, and with a drop on one side and rocks on the other, he had to go slower than he would have liked so that he could stay on the path. This meant that to avoid the ant’s flamethrower he had to swerve. The rugged terrain didn’t help much.
Preoccupied with dodging Inferno, Rattrap failed to notice until almost the last second that the cliff had turned, and that he was about to drive off the edge. Quickly making a sharp turn, he barely kept from falling. It took the rat a full three seconds to realize that the pod wasn’t on his back. He didn’t have the time or energy to worry, though, because both were being used to avoid the Pred hot on his heels.
He hoped that he would soon leave the area that jamming towers covered so that he could call for backup.
By this time the pod had almost reached the bottom of the ocean, not especially deep so near the shore and covered in soft sand that cushioned its landing. A group of curious dolphins approached, trying to figure out exactly what this object was that had invaded their territory.
From the pod’s side, a beam of light scanned across the surrounding area and the dolphins, who scattered. A computer voice came out of the settled pod, “Releasing hibernation.”
The pod opened, and out of it came a transmetal dolphin, gray-blue and shining in reflected sunlight. Breaking the surface, she shifted slightly to activate the jets beneath her fins and continued up, following the sounds of battle at the top of the cliff.
“Seablade, maximize!” she called, but paused uncertainly for an instant.
Startled, the two warriors looked towards the new voice. They saw a female Maximal, colored a metallic blue-gray with bright copper shadings. Two sharp blades extended from her wrists.
Rattrap wondered what she was waiting for, then, suddenly realizing, he yelled, “I’m a Maximal!”
After that the newcomer wasted no time; her two wrist-blades spun out toward the ant. One hit his head and the other hit his gun. Weakened as he was by his race with Rattrap, he and his gun were blown two different directions.
“So you just...found her there,” Optimus said, sounding faintly skeptical.
Rattrap shrugged. “I know how it sounds, fearless leader, but that’s really all there is to it,” he sighed. “And she says she doesn’t know anything.”
“And there isn’t anything against her except where she was found,” the Maximal leader continued. Rattrap nodded his agreement.
“So I can stay,” Seablade said, relief in her voice.
“We’ll have to watch you at first for safety’s sake, but yes, you can stay.” Optimus smiled down at her. “We can hardly turn you out, after all.”
She smiled back, shyly. “Thank you. I understand if you’re suspicious of me, but--well--I’m as confused as anyone. Whatever data tracks were in the pod must have been wiped out before I woke up.”
“If you do remember anything, let us know,” Optimus directed her. “Meanwhile--Rattrap, why don’t you show Seablade around a bit? Introduce her to everyone.”
The shorter Maximal grinned and tugged her out the door. “My pleasure. Beats monitor duty.”
Since the interior parts of the Ark were wholly off limits and the rest was a little monotonous at best, the tour consisted mostly of Rattrap’s near-constant wisecracks. However, they didn’t get far before a streak of golden fur came dashing around a corner and slammed full-tilt into the delicately built femme.
Disoriented momentarily, Seablade reached instinctively for a weapon before noting that the blow had come from a tall but very obviously youthful Maximal, currently blinking at her from his own position on the floor several meters away. He grinned broadly at her, scrambling to his feet. “You must be Seablade! Ultra gear! I was just coming to meet you!”
“Slow down, kid,” Rattrap advised, extending a hand to help Seablade up. “No need to knock the poor girl over. You’re gonna make her think we’re a bunch of unmannered toughs.” The rat winked at her. “Not that we’re not, but still.”
Seablade laughed, and gratefully accepted the assistance. “So you know who I am--what’s your name?”
“I’m Cheetor,” the warrior introduced himself, with the painfully contrived dignity belonging only to the young. “Land scout and warrior.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Cheetor,” Seablade acknowledged, smiling.
The cat stared at her for a long moment in open admiration, then shifted his feet abruptly in embarrassment. “Ah--it’s almost my duty shift, I gotta go,” he mumbled, and dashed off.
Seablade looked after him a moment in bemusement. Following her gaze, Rattrap chuckled. “The kid’s impressed,” he commented, and gestured down the hall. “Next stop, the front door. Featurin’ powerful cannons, armor, assorted other defense systems, and the always-entertainin’ Silverbolt and Blackarachnia.”
She’d already seen that area briefly, of course, when she came in, but having been in a fairly turbulent state of mind had failed to notice either the defense cannons or the pair manning them. Now, Rattrap waved up at one of the two platforms guarding the door, and added, “Blackarachnia there used to be a Pred, but she fell in love with Silverbolt and defected. Sappiest story I ever heard.”
The indicated black-and-gold spider looked down, an eyebrow raised. “Ignore the rat,” she advised Seablade. “He’s spent too much time in the garbage pile--it’s rotted his brains.”
Rattrap snorted in indignation, but for once chose not to respond.
“It’s nice to see another femme in the place,” Blackarachnia continued, with a smile. “You can help me teach these boys some manners.”
Seablade grinned back. “Looks to me like you’ve done a pretty good job of that already--except maybe with this one.” She jerked a thumb toward Rattrap.
The shorter bot folded his arms sternly. “’Ey, if ‘manners’ means actin’ like the Bird-dog there, I don’t want any.”
The dolphin glanced over, to the second platform and the silvery bot watching the bickering with a tolerant smile. “Silverbolt, isn’t it?”
He bowed slightly. “It is. A pleasure to meet you, my lady. I don’t believe I’ve heard your name?”
“I’m Seablade. The pleasure’s mine,” she responded politely, understanding what Rattrap meant. Manners wasn’t a strong enough term for his already-evident elaborate courtesy. She wondered how he’d managed to hold onto that, in such a violent situation as Rattrap had described to her on the way here.
It seemed an unlikely pairing, Silverbolt and the sharp-tongued Predacon, but a deep love and affection was clearly evident in Blackarachnia’s face when she looked at the winged Maximal. Seablade hid a smile--yes, Rattrap would undoubtedly find that very sappy. Maybe she could get Blackarachnia to tell her about the cross-faction romance in more detail later.
From behind them came a sudden clanging noise, and a rumbling voice let out a muffled yelp. Seablade spun, startled.
A very large green-and-brown Maximal she’d failed to notice slowly extricated himself from a mass of sparking wires beneath a console. He grinned ruefully at her. “Shorted out in the last attack,” he explained. “Sorry if I scared you. I’m Rhinox--resident technician and scientist.”
She smiled back, at once liking the calm competence she could sense about him. “And I’m Seablade--as I suppose you’ve already heard.”
Before more than the brief introductions had been exchanged, there was a sharp beep from one of the screens near the defense cannons. “Sir, Depth Charge is approaching,” Silverbolt reported crisply, activating the comlink to the bridge.
“And in a bad mood, as always,” Blackarachnia muttered.
An audible sigh came through the channel. “At least he listened this time. Please request that he come to the command center. And send Seablade up, too, if she’s down there.”
Before either could respond, a tall blue warrior pushed his way through the outer doors, scowling fiercely. He glanced cursorily over the gathering, and stormed on through with no sign of curiosity for the newcomer.
Rattrap cleared his throat. “Well, there’s your introduction to Captain Minnow,” he said grumpily. “Depth Charge has this obsession with revenge. Doesn’t take notice of much else.”
“You cannot blame him for wanting justice,” Silverbolt put in. “Rampage did destroy his home.”
“I can blame him for bein’ so slagging unfriendly, though,” Rattrap countered.
Seablade stared after the warrior. Something about him struck a chord in her damaged memory, something in the face...
Rattrap grasped her arm and tugged lightly. “Optimus wanted you back on the bridge, remember?” he reminded.
She let him guide her back up, the momentary sense of familiarity fading. Probably just a coincidence anyway.
They could hear Optimus’s angry voice from some distance down the corridor. “I don’t care whether you think you need to meet her--you’re going to. Like it or not, I am the leader here, and--”
“Leader,” Depth Charge snorted. “You’re the leader of a pathetic group of half-trained, untalented warriors--which is probably as it should be, since you have no talent at leading!”
That was uncalled for, Seablade thought with a surge of anger. She outpaced Rattrap and burst into the control room.
End of part two