27.May.06

Part eight

Leaders' Little Worries

By: Syntia13

The auto-gun grated against its base, before settling on it. Optimus turned it this way and that to make sure its movement weren't limited, and glanced at Rhinox and Rattrap, who were wiring the bases for other guns. The Axalon, thanks to Rattrap's hitherto unknown docking skills, had landed in one piece, but few hundred meters down the river from its previous location, and the whole perimeter defense system had to be installed anew. Optimus tracked the events that had led to this and shook his head.
"Rhinox, I need to ask you a favor," he said.
Rhinox made a questioning sound, clicking the breakers in place.

"Next time I have any bright ideas just after leaving the CR-Chamber, tell me to shut up."

"Yea, especially if it involves sendin' me to da Preds. I started seein' a pattern dere." Rattrap added, unwinding few more meters of a cable and passing it to his friend. Rhinox smiled, stripping its end. "I'll keep that in mind," he assured them. "Wouldn't like to suffer any more 'treasons'. "
Optimus groaned inwardly. "Will you two ever stop rubbing it in? He came back all right, didn't he?"
"Dat's just b'cause my superior survival skills are unmatched. Dere ain't a corner so tight I can't wriggle out of."
Optimus and Rhinox just exchanged smiles, letting him gloat. A gust of wind blew their way, taking the rat's words with it. It tossed them here and there playfully, to finally whisper them in the ears of a lone patroller.

"...my superior survival skills..."
Dinobot rolled his eyes. "This rat has no grasp on reality whatsoever," he said to no one in particular. A slight purr came in agreement. The raptor jerked his head in its direction and frowned. She was supposed to be helping with repairs, not wandering around and interrupting his patrol. He told her so. She snorted and started sniffing at something, pretending he wasn't there. Interrupting? Who's interrupting? I just happened to be hunting nearby.
Dinobot snarled, shrugged and went on. After a few paces he stopped. He checked the sky for a potential aerial attack. He scrutinized the trees for a probable land attack. He looked at the Axalon to make sure Rattrap hadn't blown it up yet. Kittar finally gave up the sniffing and gained on him. They resumed the patrol, and Dinobot reveled in silence. After being stuck with a ratty chatterbox, having a silent company was truly refreshing.
Some small furry creature crossed their path, almost getting a heart attack when Kittar snapped at it. She only did that for the sake of it, as the pray was way to small to be of any interest to her. She didn't follow when it squeaked and ran away.
The animal's small heart was beating fast, as it raced out of harms way, the image of unknown predator burning in its mind. And as it happens, running away from one danger, it practically bumped into another. Fortunately for it, this predator was a pacifist.

Tigatron looked after its quickly disappearing fluffy tail, gently rubbing his sore nose. He was a bit depressed. Part of him wanted to rejoin his 'blood sister' in the mountains, and part of him wanted to stay here and be a part of the team, but so far, he wasn't doing a great job of it. His problem was, that he didn't really feel too comfortable around people. He was a loner, but not in the same way as Kittar, who had 'leave me alone' written all over her, or Dinobot's 'been there, done that, killed it,' way. He was a shy type of a loner who just didn't really know how to behave in social situations. Example?
Here it goes. When three solars back Dinobot announced that he's going to stay, Tigatron decided that he could stay too. But, contrary to the raptor, he didn't know how to break the news to the rest, so he just tried to sneak away on the sly.
Example number two: when he saw Kittar jumping down the lift shaft, he assumed that she was doing exactly the same. He was extremely confused when she went back in.
Example number three. He then wanted to a) ask her about that, b) explain himself, but he wasn't sure how to start, so he just bolted sheepishly.
And example number four: today he tried to talk to the medic again, but he choose the moment when she was chewing on something, and the first thing that escaped his mouth was a protest against unnecessary violence. The effect was being the target for said violence.

He rubbed his nose again. He would have never suspected that a single punch from the small cat would hurt for so long. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice a shadow that flew over his head.

The creator of the shadow didn't notice Tigatron either. He was to busy thinking bitterly that there are some things flyers shouldn't be forced to do. For example, they shouldn't be forced to serve as messenger boys just because the radio system went off whack after changing ship's decor. They also shouldn't be sent out alone near the enemy's base, where all kind of accidents could happen. And most of all, they shouldn't be sent alone near the enemy's base where all kind of accidents can happen to check on the person who was recently really pissed off with them.
Terrorsaur hovered above the patch of jungle his tracker had detected Rust in and surveyed it suspiciously.
**Get down, slaggit, you're giving away my position!**
The flyer started at the voice coming from his comlink. "Where are you?"
**Let me put it this way - if you crap, I'll get dirty. Come down.**
Yeah, right. "I'm perfectly fine up here." Down there, I may not be.

**Listen, bird, you are a red spot on a clear blue sky. You're more visible than dirt in the optic. Get DOWN!**
They argued about it some more, and finally Terrorsaur grudgingly terrorized and lowered his altitude, still scrutinizing the bushes for any wolfish activity. He stopped and hovered when he reached the first branches. If Rust thought he was going to land, then he--

A tree near him suddenly sprouted with hands, and the red flier disappeared, swallowed by a branch. His suddenly cut-off screech rung throughout the jungle.

"Surprise!" Rust chuckled in an audio of a bot he was holding in a death-lock. A white face screwed up in effort, as its owner managed to move his head, freeing his mouth. "Let go of me!" snapped a robot-full of terrified bravado. "Your stupid fur tickles! And I'll be spitting with it for a month!"
"Only if you'll make it to the next week, my dear treacherous flyer." The last four words were spoken in deep, cultured voice, and Terrorsaur craned his neck to look at the speaker with such confused expression, that Rust almost fell of the tree of laughter.

OoooooKeeey.... good mood phase. It's probably safe to stay here. As long as he doesn't break the 'don't annoy the crazy person' rule. Terrorsaur made himself relax, and took a look around. They were on the highest branch of the highest tree, and the reason why they were practically invisible to outside viewers was a blanket of twigs and leaves entangled in-- "Is this one of Tarantulas's webs?"
"Yup. Now be a nice little armrest and hold still. And take this and type in the coordinates I give you." Rust shoved a datapad in flier's hands and rested his elbows on his shoulders and binoculars on his head, paying no attention to grunted protests. He watched the Maximals for a while, and recited a row of numbers. Terrorsaur wrote them down, muttering something unflattering.
"What was that?" Rust inquired.
"You're fragging heavy," Terror growled. "And what is this scrap anyway?"
"Exact location of auto-guns Maxis are fixing right now."
"What? What do you need that for?"

"Well, they've finally thought of masking them. The ones they've put up on the north are practically undetectable. If I didn't see them working on 'em, I wouldn't know they're there." That's because you're not the brightest of bots, the flyer said in the private chamber of his processor. And then he let his thoughts wander into the area of 'maybe if I pushed him of the branch, shot him few times and flew away, the Maxis would finish him off for me'. He toyed with the idea for some time.

"O'right, I think they're done." Rust straightened up to subspace binoculars, and Terrorsaur immediately jump at the occasion of getting away. Unfortunately he didn't take into consideration one factor. The factor being the viscosity of arachnids' products. Translation: spider webs tend to be sticky. With a mischievous chuckle Rust tugged at the makeshift camouflage net, yanking the flyer back to the branch. "You know, I was wondering how did it happen that your blaster was set on full power back there. Why don't we discuss it while you fly me back home?"
Terrorsaur gulped.

_________________________________________________________________________

The green energy blob enfolded Axalon, while auto-guns moved, locking on few fictional targets. Green fingers typed in new coordinates, and barrels moved accordingly. Rhinox nodded contently. "We're on," he said, shutting down the system. Then he moved to the self-inflicted duty he'd neglected lately due to a large amount of more urgent matters. The space radar flickered and showed a long row of small, artificial satellites. "All pods still in orbit," he reported.
"All remaining pods," Optimus corrected sourly. He still couldn't get over loosing three crew members. Four, if you counted Blackarachnia, which he did.
Rhinox didn't need to be told what was bothering Optimus. "We still can find them," he said consolingly. "If undamaged, the pods can sustained them for two or three decades."
"That's a rather big 'if'. Remember Tigatron's pod. And Kittar's must have been damaged too."
"But, according to Rattrap, Blackarachnia's was untouched."

"Rattrap's not a mechanic."

Rhinox frowned and crossed his arms. "He may not have a CT-University diploma, but--" "I know, I know. I'm sorry." The lack of formal education was a sore spot for both friends. Optimus scolded himself inwardly for poking it like that. He must have been more tired than he thought. The view on the screen gave him an excuse to change the subject, though it wasn't much of an improvement. "It's a small mercy this one is still up there."
Rhinox glanced at the radar. It was currently locked on a pod of a design different from the others. It was the only 'this century' piece of equipment they'd had on board. "I'd call it a very big mercy." "It would be big if it weren't there at all. Why did I ever agree to take this onboard?" "Because the Council wouldn't give you the deep space flight license if you didn't." "Right. I forgot."

_________________________________________________________________________

Somewhere on the plains, one bot was enjoying himself, and the other was not.
Rust had somehow managed to convert the camouflage net into a flyer-stuck hammock, and was riding in it, questioning his mode of transportation on the way. The mode of transportation found both things highly uncomfortable.
"So you just forgot?"
"That's right"
"We were talking about it for about five solars non stop, Megatron told you about this five times in my presence only, I reminded you about it just a solar before, and you still forgot?"
"Er... yes?"
"You should have your databanks examined."
Terrorsaur dropped a few meters in surprise. The wolf was actually buying it? He must be even dumber that he looked!
"AND," Rust added, stretching luxury in the net, "I believe that to compensate for your... memory lapses, I should put an extra energy in remembering everything." And he grinned that wolfish grin of his.

...or not...

The rest of the way they were silent.

_________________________________________________________________________

Optimus looked at the data and sighed. He'd tried to kill the time and relax a bit by doing something absolutely pointless and harmless, and what do you know, it turned out to be just as frustrating as anything else. "I don't get it. Where did we get Kittar from?" "From da lowest circle of da Pit. Why?" Optimus started at the accented voice. He didn't noticed when Rattrap came in. "I was looking through our crew's data, and she just isn't there. Our medic officer is a male, and no femme has a medical background, even as a second profession or a hobby." "Dat settles it. She's a Pred. Can I shoot 'er now? HEY!" The last part was a protest against being whacked upside the head by Rhinox. "She might have had a case of professional burnout and picked a less stressful profession. It happens." "Maybe. Well, it's not like it's important." Optimus closed the files on a technician assistant, who must have been Blackarachnia, and two ethnologists, whose psychology profiles showed vague resemblance to Tigatron's.
It was important, or at least, it could have been important, but it was enough that he was troubled with it. No need to worry the others.

_________________________________________________________________________

"How come you're not pasted with this stuff?!" Terrorsaur tugged at the net with disgust, to no avail. Every time part of it came of his torso, it stuck to his hand and vice versa.
Rust chuckled viciously, walking through the corridor backwards, so that he could observe the disgruntled flyer trailing behind him. "The thing about cobwebs you should learn is that some of threads are sticky, and some are not." Which he himself discovered after effectively tangling himself in two of Tarantulas's webs and tearing apart other three.
"But how do I get this off me?"
"No idea. Go ask Tarantulas." For him, the high temperature bath did nicely, but he was not about to share this particular piece of knowledge. "OR Blackarachnia. Maybe she won't shoot you this time."
GAH! How did the wolf know about it?!!
"Or at least she won't call you... what was that again... a molten piece of sickening slag?"
Arghhhh!

The door to the control room bulged and gave up under the weight of a package of red/blue aggression. The bot on monitor duty stirred. The day had been so boring until now!
The speakers in the control room squeaked with static, and then filled the room with mocking, feminine voice.
**I'm not going to date any of you, no matter how much you fight over me**
"Dream on, widow," Rust snapped unconcernedly, continuing banging his opponent's head against the floor. And then he suddenly released him with a delighted gasp.
"He made it!" He jerked up, snapping few web threads that stuck to him, and rushed to the thing he'd spotted, forgetting about everything else.

Terrorsaur picked himself off the floor, (leaving a bigger part of the net on it,) feeling almost insulted. He eyed critically the thing Rust was fussing over. It didn't look like much. Just a floater with modified control handles. And a jet engine attached. And an aerodynamic front plating. And few small stabilizing jets... The flyer tilted his head thoughtfully. Actually, the thing looked suspiciously similar to racers from Beta-Nova Tournaments.
The similarity grew when the wolf-bot hopped on board and kicked the engine to life. He made a few rounds and danced in the air to get the feel of it, and grinned provocatively. "Wanna race? From here to the lowest level and back?" Terrorsaur edged to the relative safety of a corridor. "No thanks. I've already seen you hovering through the base, and I don't want to see it ever again."
"Aw, come on, it will be fun!"
"No! And the corridors are to narrow anyway!"
"You're just scared."
"I'm not!" And he was not going to be baited either. There were some things he wouldn't do under the pain of death, and flying at high speed in narrow spaces was one of them, along with walking willingly into the room smaller than his quarters, which wasn't big enough for his tastes anyway. He backed away.
"Wimp!" Rust called after him, feeling thoroughly disappointed. Oh well... Competition could wait.

_________________________________________________________________________

Megatron growled. He was trying to work here, and something - or someone - was interrupting his concentration. What on Cybertron could have been making sounds like a jet parade inside the base? Pushing away from the console, he went through the ship in search for the source of distraction. Instead, the distraction found him.

Something zipped out of the corridor, yelped in surprise at his presence, made an improbably acute turn, succeeded in loosing most of the speed, brushed against the wall, the ceiling, and another wall, lost control, and split in two parts. One of them drifted for few more feet, then hovered calmly in the air, while the other crash-landed, skidded for a few meters and finally stopped at Megatron's feet.

Rust reflexively rolled and tried to get to his feet, decided it wasn't worth it, and blinked a few times to remove the static from his vision. The static disappeared, revealing a purple face with all too familiar frown on it. Ouch. Something most probably needed to be said.
"I didn't do anything," his reflexes provided helpfully.

_________________________________________________________________________

There were some things predacon leaders shouldn't be forced to deal with. They were meant for much more important issues. And yet here he was, glaring at a delinquent scientist, with a very displeased look on his face. The recipient of the look shuffled his feet in discomfort. Megatron stroked his dino-hand thoughtfully. When he spoke, his voice was very calm. "I really would like to understand, Scorponok. What exactly had prompted you into building this... thing... for Rust?"
The gray bot reset his voice-box nervously. "Well, he, ah, ask-- asked for it," --several times, over and over again-- "and me thought he deserve it, cause, he," --saved your life-- "pulled you out of a river, and..." his voice trailed off. The silence reigned the room. Reminding a Predacon, especially Megatron, that he owed someone, was a very bad idea. Scorponok tried to erase a big mistake with a smaller one. "He kept asking for it," he said a bit lamely. He just wouldn't shut up about it, until I blocked my comlink, and he was talking through the comlink because he spent almost entire two solar-cycles sitting in front of your CR-tank, with blaster across his knees, to make sure nothing funny would happen to you, and he had a point there, cause Terrorsaur had that look on his face again, and I wasn't so sure about the spiders either...

But he knew better than say it all out loud. He just waited in tense silence, until Megatron dismissed him. Phew...

_________________________________________________________________________

Rust entered his room rubbing at the fresh scorch and sulking. It wasn't fair to confiscate his racer, he didn't even destroy anything yet... He was about to snap angrily at his roommate, when his processor registered the way the wasp's arms and wings were dropping. The kid was concerned about something...
"Yo, what's up, wasp?"
"Flower dying," Waspinator murmured. He shot Rust a look, half expecting some mocking remark, but the blue bot's face showed concerned, as he came closer to take a look at their pet plant. It didn't look so good, its shiny leaves sported few matted patches, and the pelts were wilted. "Maybe it needs feeding?" he asked uncertainly. "How do plants eat anyway?" Waspinator shrugged. How should he know? He only knew that the flower needed to be kept in dirt, because he spotted the rhino and the cat collecting plants that way.
Rust tapped his chin thoughtfully, then shut off his optics. He stayed like that for a cycle or so, and growled impatiently. "Prime, just prime. The animal section was done by a novelist, and a plant one by some freaking cone-head!" He looked at the wasp-bot with irritation. "Do you know anything about chemistry?"
Waspinator's wings fluttered anxiously, as he buzzed a cautious "Yezz?"
Rust blinked. "You do?"
Waspinator had to suppress the urge to stomp angrily. "Yes!" I'm not stupid just because I talk like that!
"Ok, gimme an empty data-pad."
"Not have."
Rust sent a pointed look toward the ledge above wasp's bunk, toppling over with pads. Waspinator moved to shield his treasure. "They're full!"

Rolling his optics, the wolf-bot walked up to the shelf and pulled a pad out of one of his boxes, pulled out a cable and connected it to his temple. Downloading the file only took few nanos. He tossed the pad at the other bot, and watched as he spectacularly failed to catch it.
CRASH
Rust put a hand to his face, inspected the ceiling, inspected the floor, shook his head, and took out another pad, this time putting it on the table after the download. A bit ruffled, Waspinator picked it up, glanced at it and put it down. "What this marks?"
"What? Oh, maxi alphabet, sorry." Rust took the pad back and downloaded the file again, this time putting it through the translator first. "It's from Maxis' Museum's databank," he said as an explanation.
Waspinator read through the data and shifted. "Plants making food themselves," he said eventually. "And this formula how plant do it. This part izz water, and this what comezz from dirt... But Waspinator not know these symbols." He pointed few letters in the middle of the formula. "Maybe scorpio--nok or Tarantulas know?"
Rust grinned and tapped his comlink. "Tarantulas, are you here somewhere?" The voice that filtered through was highly annoyed. **I'm busy!**
"Really? Well, I was wondering if I should tell our leader to take a stroll to the grid orion, walk past that weird looking tree, turn a bit to the east, and look for that group of five boulders--"


Tarantulas interrupted before Rust could describe the entire way to his lair. He'll have to block that entrance and make another. Blasted wolf. How did he know?
"What do you want?"
**I Have a problem with some chemical symbols, can you read them for me?**
Grumbling, Tarantulas ordered the blue pestilence to load the formula in ship's main computer, looked at it thoughtfully and his mandibles formed a mischievous smirk. "These symbols haven't been in use for over a century, but the formula itself is very simple, really. It's a synthesis of simple carbohydrates, exploiting external sources of photons to attain the energy necessary to break and reestablish molecular bonds," he said, and waited for a dumbfounded 'huh???'

Rust gaped at the console. HUH??? But out of the corner of his optic he saw Waspinator nodding enthusiastically, so he said a sweet "Thanks" instead, and closed the connection. Then he gaped at his roommate. "You understood what he'd said?"
Waspinator beamed and translated. Rust blinked. "So, basically, it just needs some light and water?"
"Yezz"
"Couldn't they write it that way?!!! What's the slaggin' point of putting in all that science-jabber if it could be said in one sentence?"
The beep from his comlink interrupted his ranting.
**Rust, report to the control room**
_________________________________________________________________________

Dinobot was coming back. And he was licking at his lips every now and then. And that most probably meant that he'd been eating something. And that meant, he'd been hunting. And that meant, he wasn't alone. And that meant... Optimus turned from the visual monitor. "Where's Rattrap?" he asked urgently. Rhinox checked the radar, a bit surprised by an alarmed note in Primal's voice. "He is--"

"I don't CARE if yer BACK! Get OFFA me!!!"

"--outside. Oh."
Optimus was in the corridor already. "If anyone asks, I'm not at home."
_________________________________________________________________________

Whistling quietly, Rust searched throughout the ship's databanks. He'd gotten a special task, 'since he now had a mode of transportation', and he needed some info. Energon storehouses, energon storehouses... Oh, come on, there had to be something... Ah, here it is! Optimal capacity, maximal accumulation, safety measures, optimal temperature, common designs... perfect. He connected to the computer and downloaded it all.

***

Watching the blue bot over surveillance system, Megatron smiled. He'd given an order, and the kid just said 'aye, sir,' and went to prepare for the mission on his own, not bothering him with hows or whys. Perfect. When he has Dinobot back, these two will be put together as a team, and the old warrior will be made responsible for keeping the young bot's temper under control. It will be a pure pleasure to command them. Oh yess.

_________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________

"Why do we all have to be here again?"
"In case we found energon, and Predacons found us." Which was happening a lot more often than he liked. So far, about half of their mining trips had ended with (@#%$) Megatron ($#@&) getting the (^&#@$$) candy, as Rattrap eloquently put it.
"Really? Well, ah, hate ta worry ya, but I think they've found us already," the small bot with the way-too-big mouth said, glancing at the person behind him. Dinobot snarled in response to his gaze, and after a nano they were deep in one of their 'genealogical disputes.' Optimus felt like banging his head against the cliff. And here he was hoping that the rat would break his record of not picking on raptor for a reasonable amount of time. Silly him...
"Hey, what was that?" the young voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What is it, Cheetor?" "I thought I saw something over there!" the spotted cat was looking at an opposite cliff's edge. "It was big, but it moved too fast to see it clearly." "Probably just an animal," Dinobot stated. "No way! It was ultra fast, and it gleamed like metal, and..." The young bot noticed the dubious expression on other's faces, and insisted all the harder. He was absolutely sure he saw something. Optimus transformed and took to the air, to come back after few cycles. "I didn't see anything. It could have been a shadow of some bird." Cheetor bowed his head dejectedly. "Yea, guess so..."


Up on the cliff, several hundred meters from where Primal had been looking for him, Rust shook off the thin layer of gravel he'd hidden himself under. He checked if his racer was all right, and reached for comlink.
"Rust to base."
**What, barely out of radar range, and you've got lost already? Poor doggy.**
"Keep trying, Widow, maybe you'll insult me before the century's over. And push off the line, I wanna speak with Megs."
After a moment's pause, Megatron's deep voice asked what do you want?
"The Maximals are on family trip, sir. They're all here minus the cat and the tiger, and if I recall correctly, the ledge they're moving on is a dead end."
**Excellent, yess! Relay the coordinates and continue your task.**
_________________________________________________________________________

Rust continued his task. Behind him, a few interesting things happened.
_________________________________________________________________________


In a properly run universe, rockslides shouldn't happen. Or at least that was the opinion of bots digging themselves out from under one. Highly annoyed, Megatron brushed himself off. "Flyers, check--," he fell silent and counted to ten. Waspinator was off-line, and with the way Terrorsaur's jet covers and wings were bent and dented, he wasn't flying in either mode anytime soon. "Scorponok--"
The scientist reflexively stood to attention.
"--check the Maximals' positions."
A cyber-bee was launched, and after few cycles Megatron was given Maximals' coordinates and the formation they were moving in. The rhinoceros was guarding the rear...
_________________________________________________________________________

It was amazing, how easily one was settling back into old patterns.
Take target's bearings. Pick the spot. Prepare the syringe. Wait for the right moment. Strike. Go away as if nothing happened. Don't turn around to watch as an insignificant air-car waiting nearby picks up the stumbling target. Mission accomplished. Yet another inconvenient bot disappeared from the streets, never to be heard from again.
Tarantulas stifled a chuckle, crawling along almost vertical cliff wall. Some changes were of course necessary. Never before he was able to incapacitate the target with a bite (that was an improvement), and the role of air-car was taken by Blackarachnia, coming right now from the base with a floater (that was a drawback). But he pushed the thoughts aside, because now was time for his favorite part.

A strike.
_________________________________________________________________________

Rattrap had been the first to notice Rhinox's absence. He was also the one who found the spot where something bad must have happened. He was also the one who was now messing with his comlink with a determined look on his face. "If I could just patch in..." he murmured, trying to force the small communicator to work the way it wasn't designed for. "Got it!" He was about to say something more, when he heard the last voice he'd like to hear right now. Or anytime, to think of it. _________________________________________________________________________

One level of Rhinox's processor was spinning wildly, in search for a way out of this slag situation. The other was busy talking to Megatron. And small, but not insignificant part of it was trying to decide whether Megatron smiling politely was less or more annoying that Megatron speaking politely. And then all of his cognitive functions dispersed, fleeing from the alien force that invaded his circuits, and when they came back, they were in different shapes entirely.

Rhinox was an extremely patient bot. The mild annoyances of everyday life could sail for days through the seemingly infinite ocean of his patience, without finding even the smallest isle of reaction. And the source for that ocean was a lurking deep down below the conscious levels of confidence. He knew that there were no problems - or persons - that he couldn't beat, whether by physical or intellectual means. And because he knew that, he didn't have to prove that. What would be the point?
But coming in a flash, in a nano-kliks when he was activating his optics, was an old/new, nagging question.
Why the Pit not?
If he knew better, if he was better, and could beat the slag out of anybody who didn't want to acknowledge this, then why the Pit not? What, was he too weak or something?
"Rhinox, terrorize!"
_________________________________________________________________________

Rattrap and Cheetor were staring at the comlink with matching grimaces of utter horror.
**This a private club, or can anybody join?**

-Rhinox? Rhinox, buddy? That's you? That doesn't even sound like you!

-Rhinox??!!?!?!? As a Predacon!??!??!?!???

-Most ominous. We are badly outnumbered now.

-That voice! I know that voice! Oh Primus, we're in trouble now, we... We... are... NOT in trouble at all! Ha! A smile slowly crept onto Optimus's face. I almost pity Megatron!
_________________________________________________________________________

Megatron growled silently, tapping the keys. This should not have happened! And even if it would happen, then HE shouldn't be dealing with it. Where were those blasted spiders when they could actually be useful for a change?
"There must be a malfunction in the image decompression protocol array," he said for the sake of the other bot present.
"Gee, hope it's under warranty."
Megatron narrowed his optics. The tone of voice was just a nano-slit from being disrespectful.
You shouldn't scrap him just yet, he's still too useful, he reminded himself. So to resist the temptation, he sent the green bot away.
But before he could focus on the problem again, the buzzing filled the air. Megatron shut his optics. It was so, so, so very tempting...
No, you shouldn't scrap him either.
The wasp, oblivious to tyrant's thoughts and shorting temper, buzzed a cautious request for permission to install a high-photon lamp in his quarters.
Though on the other hand...
"Yes, yes, do it," Megatron snapped impatiently, to get rid of the little nuisance, and opened a link to his second. "Scorponok, what's taking you so long?"
...
...

"Scorponok?"
Slag! Megatron stood up abruptly. Scorponok was the only bot he was absolutely sure would never deliberately neglect answering him; his silence could only mean one thing.
There were troubles.
With Waspinator trailing behind him like a puppy, the predacon leader went to find the gray bot, while his processor concocted a quite long list of possible disasters, and a very short list of suspects.
That flyer had better not have anything to do with that, he thought grimly. He'd better not.
_________________________________________________________________________

'That flyer' was in awe. In little over a megacycle Rhinox had managed to disable half of base's systems, get rid of two Predacons and... 'acquire'... the help of one. Wincing slightly, Terrorsaur rubbed his neck. Blasted ex-Maximal certainly had a grip. Why everyone insisted on practicing violence on him? Well, at least this time he was getting his revenge on Megatron. If everything went right, that is.

"Hey! What are you doing here!" Blackarachnia glared at him with hostility. Terrorsaur shrugged. "You don't own the laboratory, I can be here if I want." He passed by her, picked up a random object from the desk and turned. She was still glaring at him, with her back to the door. Terrorsaur didn't bother hiding a smirk. It could only help. "And actually, I don't believe you have any reason to be here either. Didn't Megatron tell you to repair the monitor systems?" He walked up to her, and she backed away. "This is none of your business!"
"I think it is. What would Megatron say if I told him you're plotting something behind his back?" It was a shot in the dark, but the change on her face told him he'd scored. He smirked again. "Of course, I could forget to tell him that..."
Blackarachnia didn't even wait for him to finish. She knew, or at least she thought she knew, where it was going. She took two more steps back and raised her launcher. "I've already told you to slag off, you null-processored freak! You have ten nanos to get out of my sight, or you'll be spitting cyber-ve--"

A large hand grabbed her neck from behind and lifted her off the floor, while the other snatched the weapon out of her hand and fired it at her chest in one fluent movement.

"Now for Tarantulas," Rhinox said, dropping the limp body to the floor.

"Whatever you say," the flyer agreed nervously.
Megatron had created a monster.

Tarantulas proved to be trickier than any of them expected. He didn't let Terrorsaur maneuver him like Blackarachnia did, he quickly got suspicious and kicked the flyer out. They had to ambush him in the corridor, after he left his lab, and even then he didn't go down easily.
He somehow wrenched himself free from Rhinox's grasp in split nano, and opened fire at the green bot without hesitation. Fortunately for them, he didn't notice Terrorsaur aiming at his back with Black's launcher.

"You've just earned yourself a very special piece of programming, spider." Rhinox growled to the unconscious form on the floor. Then he moved his gaze to Terrorsaur. "I must repair myself. You make sure spiders don't cause trouble and keep an eye on Megatron while I'm off." "Sure," Terrorsaur mumbled, shifting nervously. _________________________________________________________________________

It was like a scene from a bad horror movie. The bots disappearing one by one, the lone survivor gone insane ("There's no one as fast as me-me-me!!!") and now this. With optics burning furiously, Megatron examined two spiders dangling from the ceiling in their own webs, incapacitated with their own cyber-venom. Seething, he shot the threads sustaining them and dragged them both to the CR-room, peeking suspiciously round every corner on his way.

Almost all tanks were silent, and it didn't look like anyone - or anything - was lurking among them, but he kept glaring around as he dumped his burden into repair liquid and checked the readings on the tank that was active when he came in. The readings weren't right. This should be Scorponok, right? And he was damaged almost four megacycles ago. So why the CR insisted that repairs had only been going for forty cycles?
Megatron frowned and typed in an identification command.

Unit unknown?

...

Rhinox.
Megatron mouthed few words he wouldn't allow himself in normal circumstances.
But if here was Rhinox, where was his second?

He started activating all tanks, and one failed to come on line. A brief inspection showed that someone had disconnected the power wires in it. Megatron remedied that, in the meantime thinking up the most unpleasant things he was going to do with the bot responsible. But first things first.
BEEP "Waspinator, come in," a moment of silence. "Waspinator, are you functional?" No sound. "SHRAPNEL!" This time, the response came immediately.

**What do you want, Megatron-tron-tron?**
The combination of wasp's voice and this speech pattern was a killer.
And I thought he couldn't get any more annoying, the tyrant thought gnashing his teeth.

_________________________________________________________________________

*Click*
The muddy-colored rat fell to the ground, mouthing a curse. Stupid clamps, did they have to be so loud? What were they trying to do, get him killed? He crawled a bit further, and attached another bomb to the hull. All right, that should be enough. He looked back with an OK gesture. A big clod of mud uncurled into a muddy-colored raptor, who nodded, and directed his attention at the nearest movement/organic detector. When it was turned away, he gave a sharp signal, and the rat darted away as fast as he could, until a beep of his comlink told him he should freeze. He looked back, and now it was his turn to signal Dinobot when it was safe to move. They've changed the roles three more times until they were safely out of auto-guns range.
"You've had a great idea, Dinobot," Optimus praised quietly.
"It wouldn't have worked if anyone was watching the monitors," Dinobot said matter-of-factly. Megatron is getting worse by the day. He weren't making such obvious mistakes when we were working together.
"Yea, yea, great idea. How am I supposed ta transform with all dat stuff on me? It will silt up all my circuits!" Rattrap wiped some of the mud off his face and flicked it to the side.
"Hey! Watch it!" "Sorry, kiddo. Didn't see ya dere."
Optimus hushed them. Rhinox's comlink was still open, and so close to the predacon base they were getting a pretty clear signal. When it had barked with gunfire, he and Dinobot had to forcibly stopped two younger bots from darting headlong to the rescue. It had been quiet for some time, but now he thought he heard something... It could have been a brief conversation and a clang of feet, but it could have been as well just a bizarre interference. Optimus shook his head. "False alarm."
_________________________________________________________________________

Scorponok stared at his feet. As soon as he'd woken up in CR-tank, he was told to report to Megatron by Waspinator, who seemed to be speaking even weirder than usual, though he couldn't be sure, not being a linguist himself. He'd obliged, of course.
Megatron ordered him to sit down, which was a rare privilege, but it did nothing to boost his morale as it was supposed to, because he knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't dare to look his leader in the optic. He screwed up, he screwed up badly. He should have foreseen how reprogramming would affect Rhinox, it was so obvious when he was thinking about it post-facto. And how stupidly he let himself to be maneuvered under five tons of steel crates... He felt a rare wave of anger coiling inside him. Wait till he got his hands on athe bot who made him fail his leader so badly...

_________________________________________________________________________

How on Cybertron could have things gone so badly? And what the Pit got into Scorponok? What hit him? Where did the Maximals came from? What was that explosion? Where was he? Why he couldn't move? And just as he started to panic, a large piece of metal covering him was hurled aside, and then he had something to really panic about.
Towering above him, covered in dents and singes, with energon trickling down his chest and optics burning furiously, was Megatron
"Terrorsaur, there is something I'd very much like to share with you, yesss," he hissed, picking the flyer up.

_________________________________________________________________________

The smell of smoke was the first bad sing. Following it, Rust found the second one, a.k.a. a trail of blown up auto-guns. At the end of the trail was a big hole in the wall. And behind it was...

"WHAT??!!!! (*%$%*) ($#*%*$) (*$^@**)(#$@&#$)!!!!!!! I WANTED to USE this thing!!! Who blew it up?!!!"

No culprit volunteered his guilt. Growling like a chain saw, the blue bot steered his racer into the corridor and to the nearest spark detectable.


After a few cycles he had to admit he was baffled. Waspinator was in a CR-tank (again), Blackarachnia just snapped something about Maximals and scurried away looking extremely nervous, and Scorponok hid in his lab and refused to talk to him. What was WRONG with these bots? Scowling in disgust, Rust decided to find Megs. Halfway through the ship he detected two sounds. Tarantulas's cackle didn't move him, but Terrorsaur's screams did. Where the Pit were they, and what was going on? The 'where' was easy. One deck up, three intersections to the left. He zipped to the place where he knew there was a big chunk of a deck missing, he left the racer hovering just a few meters above the lava and climbed up the wall. Once on the correct deck, he set off on padded paws to find the source of disturbing noises.


Tarantulas was leaning against the wall, cackling maliciously, with his optics locked on Megatron, standing few meters away. They never noticed a shadow among shadows approaching them, because their attention was entirely on a thing the screams were coming from.


Wolf's eyes lit up at the sight before him. An infamous predacon Torture Chamber. Wow. He didn't even know they had one on board. So... Sarge and Widow were most probably cowering, imagining they were the one inside, and Chuckles was laughing, probably imagining he was the one at the controls. How limited of them. Rust sank to the floor with all his senses locked on the T-Chamber, and started imagining both.

***

Oh Primus, how long had he been in here? It seemed like an eternity. There wasn't even a single circuit in him that didn't hurt, and every time he thought it couldn't get any worse, Megatron was turning another switch, proving him wrong. And his claustrophobia didn't help. Every time the pain subsided, he was passing out of fear, only to be snapped back on-line by another wave of pain. He'd screamed, he'd apologized, he'd pleaded, he'd begged, he'd sworn his undying loyalty, and all of this had been ignored. Now he didn't even have the strength to scream anymore-- A pain stabbed him, and he screamed. The sound was weak and ten times as scratchy as his voice normally was, and apparently Megatron found it satisfying, because needles retraced back into the walls, and the hatch opened. Terrorsaur leaned forward and gratefully fell on the wonderfully cool floor. Something poked him, and he groaned.
"You may return to your quarters. Report to your post at dawn," boomed a voice above him, shortly followed by a spider's cackle. The flyer did his beast to mumble a confirmation, and continued lying, listening to the retreating footsteps. What he heard next was the worst sound he'd heard in his life. The footsteps were coming back.

No!

He scrambled to get away, and yelped at the surge of pain it caused.
No, no more, please...

Large hands picked him up. "No, please!" he managed to croak.
"Easy, it's me," a strange, gentle voice said soothingly.

Me who? Despite his circuits protesting at every movement, he tried to get a look at the bot holding him. His arm brushed against the fur, and he caught a glimpse of a blue light above. "Rust?" he asked uncertainly, trying to process it. "Wh-t -re yo- d-ing?" Slag, the strain didn't do anything good for his overheated voice box.
Above him, Rust snorted. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked in his normal voice.
How the Pit could he know how it looked like? He could barely think at the moment! He let his head fall back and focused on the way before them. And then he struggled violently, when he realized Rust was carrying him towards the lava pits. "WHAT -RE YOU -OING?!!"

Rust stopped at the edge and looked down at him. A red glow from below added a purplish tinge to his optics, when he grinned like a fiend. "Guess," he said. And dropped him.
______________________________________________________________________


All in all, this day could have ended worse, even though Rattrap claimed that surviving Kittar's tender mercies spoiled it entirely. (The femme became unusually talkative when she saw what state they came back in. Though scold-ative would be a better word. And the fuss she made over Rattrap's and Dinobot's muddied joints was exaggerated even in Rhinox's opinion.) But lying near their favorite pond, under a blossoming bushes and watching the sunset, he felt like he was in... "Heaven," Rhinox sighed contently.
Optimus smiled, not opening his eyes. Rattrap nodded in lazy agreement. Even Dinobot didn't counter; curled in a ball, he looked almost relaxed, maybe thanks to the fact that Optimus was lying between him and Rattrap, so the two didn't have an occasion to begin a quarrel.
Rhinox inhaled the sweet smell of flowers and smiled. Life was beautiful.
______________________________________________________________________

They say that when a bot is about to die, his databanks go crazy and disgorge all his memories in one go, and when he is actually dying, one random image from his past life hovers behind his optics, dominating his private universe.

Terrorsaur's private universe was dominated by one intense image, but if it was from his past life, he didn't recognize it. It was red. It shone. It was hot. It had a spot of a strange shadow on it. It was rushing at him at a terrifying speed. His jets were out, and all he could do was screech in helpless panic. And then the surrounded with a red glow shadow expanded, filling his entire field of vision, and hit him.
The flyer groaned, gathering his wits. What happened? He was lying on something metal, and that something was rocking slightly. He moved, the thing rocked harder and he started slipping off it. With a clang, something landed next to him and a hand grabbed him.
"What are you shouting about?" Rust asked innocently, pulling him back to the safety of racer's platform. Terrorsaur blinked tiredly few times.

"----ate you."
Rust chuckled. "No you don't. Not yet." And he kicked the engine.
"Aa-aAArgh- Ha-e you--ate-y-o a-aaGh -ate you -ate yo- aAAAaa-agh hate -ou -ate you both!!!!!"

______________________________________________________________________

"Din-dong. Quarters level. Thank you for choosing 'Rusted Racers' for your travel needs."
Terrorsaur slid off the platform with one last, weary "-at- you."
"You know, I believe you do," Rust agreed, picking him up. He carried the unresponsive heap of red metal to Terror's lodgings. "Sweet dreams," he said, closing the door. And then he headed back.

The air still spoke of the flyer's torment. Rust marveled at the smell of overheated metal and various chemicals for a moment, then terrorized and went over to the control panel. He ran his fingers across the switches. What's it like, to hear someone's screams and have the power over these screams? He's optics dimmed dreamily.
And what's it like to be the one at the wrong end of it?
He brushed the correct button, and the hatch hissed open. He traced his hand from controls to the Chamber itself, and slipped inside. Something like the skeleton of an armchair occupied most of the space. Rust sat in it carefully. The air was dry, and the stench of hot metal was overwhelming. He clenched his hands around armrests, and smiled. Lots of bots must have been doing that before him, 'cause the metal was dented where his fingers touched.

The hatch suddenly closed with a thud, and energy bonds snapped in place, binding him to the chair. "Hey!" he protested. Someone was going to be very sorry! He was going to-- he yelped when a set of needles shot out of the walls, puncturing his metal. The next moment, he felt some foreign substance being forced into his fluid system, and the needles placed in the strategic spots of his neuronet started to heat up. Ah, so that's how the thing works... He growled, consulted his scanner, and scowled. Having fun, Megs?
He apparently had. The pain increased, and Rust howled, putting an extra effort in it, just for Megatron's benefit. After a few cycles the hatch opened, and the dark silhouette appeared in it.
"I believe you are the first bot ever who entered that machine willingly, yess" a deep voice said. In the darkness of chamber, one optic lit up. "That's possible."
"And may I ask why did you do that?" The second blue spot joined the first one. In their mild light corners of Rust's mouth twitched. "I was curious." "I trust your curiosity had been satisfied." "Yup."
In one fluid movement the young bot stood up, but since there wasn't enough room for him to straighten up fully, and Megatron was blocking his way out, he had to grab the hatch edges and freeze in an extremely unsteady position. It would only take the slightest push from the bigger bot to send him back into the world of pain. Rust grinned at his leader, and his optics brightened with a wayward daring. Will he, or will he not torture me further?

Megatron took a step back, letting Rust out. "I will await your report," he said, "AFTER you take this thing outside, yess." He pointed at the racer, hovering nearby. "You are forbidden to use it inside the base."
"What? Why? I didn't even crush into anything!" The tyrant's face twitched, and Rust's self-preservation took over. "Aye sir," it said with a half-decent salute. The rest of him scowled at it inwardly. Aft-kisser...

Megatron departed, and Rust started towards the racer. His overheated circuits protested, and he stopped. He took a few deep breaths in this special, practiced way he had, that made the cooling process more efficient, and looked back at the T-Chamber. It could make a bot scream himself off-line, but didn't inflict any true damage. A good coolant could probably remove any aftereffects in a matter of cycles, and freshly disciplined bot could be sent into a fight right away. Nasty, truly nasty thing. But...
"I've had worse," he murmured, starting the engine. He breathed again, feeling the throbbing pain fading away. "I've had much worse."

_________________________________________________________________________

His report put Megatron in a good mood (though the double T-Chamber session might have helped), and he wasn't given anything new to do. And since Scorponok was busy designing something again, he neglected to change duty roster. As a result, Rust found himself with an undetermined amount of free time at his disposal.
***

Running a standard check-up on his troops (Tarantulas missing again, this spider was just asking for trouble) Megatron stopped to stare at one monitor. After a moment he opened a link.

BEEP**Rust, what are you doing?**
The blue bot looked at the soldering iron in his hand, then at a patched up wall, and then at the camera. "Is this a trick question? Sir?" After a moment's silence a calm voice responded. **I intended to leave this particular chore for Terrorsaur.**

"Oh." Rust looked at the wall again and grinned. "I can blow it up again if you wish," he said hopefully. He could steal some point charge's from Tarantulas, place them in a pattern and detonate them so it would look like--
**No. Finish your work.**

Awww...
"Aye sir," he sighed, disappointed. "But I'm done already."
**As I recall, this wall was painted, yess. You would do well to restore its original appearance.**
This was a pure maliciousness on Megs part, but it was lost on Rust, because he actually liked painting. Especially that he'd found himself a set of spray cans, and the only problem he had was to suppress the urge to 'improve' the original decor. Actually, he thought, watching the paint dry, why restrain himself?

***

"Oy, wasp, you're here?"
Waspinator raised his head, reflexively hiding a datapad.
"What Rust want?"
"Oh, nothing. I just thought that this room is a little boring. Didn't you?"

_________________________________________________________________________

It was dark. Really dark. So dark he couldn't see anything. Where was he? What happened? Why was it so dark?
Just as he started to panic, his optics flickered on-line. Oh. Right. He stared ahead.
A ceiling. Non-descriptive. A wall. Non-descriptive. A poster of 'Stellar Killer IV'. Ah, his own quarters. So far so good.
No hangover. Even better.
Wait. Why was he expecting a hangover?
...
...
...
Oh shoooot.
Terrorsaur groaned, as the memories of the past day waved, beaming at him happily. Ok, a resolution. Never, ever again try to kill/overthrow/double-cross Megatron if you're not ABSOLUTELY sure it won't backfire. And sabotaging the Torture Chamber may be in order. Anything else?
...
Rust. Ugh. Slag, slag, slag. He gave him a fright of his life, but if it wasn't for him, Terrorsaur would have spent the night on the floor in front of the T-chamber, and it wasn't exactly the place he'd like to wake up, especially if Megatron happened to be near. Rust spared him that experience. Manipulative wicked bastard! Of all the bots to own a favor to... But if he didn't want Rust to call it at the worst possible time, he should clear it straight away. Reluctant and ruffled, he headed to the hellion's lair.

_________________________________________________________________________

"Thizz Wazzpinator'zz wall!"
"I just need a little bit, push off."
"Rust can do his splashes on ceiling. Wall's Waspinator's!!" A small poke. "Are you criticizing my graffiti?" A back-poke. "Waspinator paints better" A push. "Oh yea?" A back-push "Yea" Push. "Says who?" Push. "Sayzz me". Push. Push. Push.

It was hard to say which one of them reached for the heavier weapon first, but once it was used, there was no coming back...
_________________________________________________________________________

The lock on Waspinator's and Rust's shared room's door was permanently broken, because Rust was too impatient to meddle with codes every time he was going in or out, so Terrorsaur just pushed the door aside and stepped in. The sight that met his optics made the grumpy question die on his mouth.
Primus! What happened here?!!! A carpet-bombing over a paint factory was the first thing that sprung to mind. Only after a moment of shocked silence he managed to perceive two familiar shapes among the colorful mayhem on the floor. He approached the inert bodies carefully. None of them reacted, and Terror felt a surge of horror creeping into his processor, as he stepped into something wet and sticky.
If they'd somehow killed themselves... And if anybody spotted him on the spot... After yesterday...
He started backpedaling very slowly, and just then two pair of optics shone below.
"Waspinator seezz single-color!"
Two armed hands rose off the floor.

"DIIIIEEEE, single-color!!!"

"GAH!"

_________________________________________________________________________

Some indescribable noise was coming out of the corridor again. Megatron turned his floater-chair to observe it, charging his weapon, thinking mildly, which would he get to shoot this time, a blue-gray nuisance, or a red-silver pain in the circuits?
And then his jaw dropped slightly in surprise. What were these things that barged into the control room? He was absolutely sure that they weren't his troops, because he knew his troops, and none of them were this shade of... rainbow.
One thing, laughing madly, had four paws.
One thing, giggling madly, had a set of insectoid wings.

And the thing hot on pursuit after the first two, screeching death treats could be recognized as Terrorsaur, save for two big patches of green and pink on his sides.
Shaking off the shock, Megatron raised his dino-hand.

The multicolored wolf yelped in surprise as a laser hit the metal floor in front of him, jumped over the next shot and terrorized, coming to a halt. The next nano two other bots bumped into him, and all of them landed on the floor in a tangle. They scrambled to their feet, the flyers noticed the cause of distraction, and it was amazing just how silent they became.
Megatron just glared, though the effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that he dimmed his optics to minimize the assault on his sensors. How did this shade of pink made its way to his ship?
After a moment of awkward silence Rust stepped forward and saluted. "Morning, sir," he said brightly, even though technically it wasn't morning yet, and the situation wasn't very bright either.
Megatron narrowed his optics, not entirely in anger. Those colors were a killer. Was this green? He didn't know that green could be an offensive weapon...
"Would you care to explain your appearance?"
And this shade where pink and yellow met, he didn't even want to think about.

Rust glanced down at himself.
"Well, I've been repainting our room--"
"Wazzpinator painting too," buzzed the flyer behind him, and Rust smiled slightly.
"Yes, and we argued about it a bit." He looked at himself again. "A lot," he amended.
"I see." Though I'd rather not. "And what was Terrorsaur's role in this?"

The mentioned bot cringed under tyrant's gaze. Rust glanced at him over his shoulder, as if a bit surprised to see him there. "Oh, he just got caught in between us."

The purple bot's gaze slid over the trio and skipped to the side in self-defense.
There were some things he just shouldn't have to deal with. Why was he even bothering?
"Clean yourselves and report to your duties," he snapped and went back to the things he was working on. Behind him the gruesome group retreated quietly. Gritting his teeth, Megatron opened channel to Scorponok's lab.
"Scorponok, make sure that when Rust isn't needed for specific appointments, his roster is full, with only three mega-cycles break for recharging. And preferably, use him for tasks outside the base."

***

"Ruzzt?" "Mhm?" "Tubs can clean wall paint?"
It turned out to be a very good question. Especially that the answer was negative.

***

Beep**Hi sarge, do we have something to remove a wall paint off a transformer?**
Scorponok scowled. "Solvent is in closet, you kn--"

**I've found it, but it's not enough.**
"Not enough for what?"
**Check the bathroom screen**

Frowning, Scorponok switched on the monitor, and choked. A multihued rust-shaped specter grinned and waved.

_________________________________________________________________________


"What do you want?" It was more a demand than a question, and was beyond any doubt directed at once again blue Rust.

"Huh?"

Terrorsaur crossed his arms. "You've helped me yesterday. What do you want?"
For a split nano Rust looked confused, but then he grinned broadly, and his optics gleamed.

In just a split nano Rust managed to direct a long row of curses at his own carelessness and forgetfulness, at Waspinator's presence, and at Terrorsaur's bluntness. And then he decided to have some fun.
"I want you to go to Megatron and tell him what a wonderful leader you think he is."
"WHAT?"
"What, too difficult? Ok, so you can write a poem for Blackarachnia and recite it through the intercom instead."
Waspinator giggled. "Rust make terror-bot be test subject for Tarantulas." The spider had recently asked for a flyer volunteer.
Terrorsaur growled and turned to leave. "Screw you, freaks."
BLAM
In a sudden silence Terrorsaur contemplated a deep hole in the wall in front of him. He could feel a scorched paint on his helmet, where the shot seared past his audio. If that was a warning shot, he didn't want to know what a serious one would feel like. He turned around slowly.
Rust was watching him above the smoking barrel. His mouth was smiling friendly, but his optics were not.
"Lets get serious. What I want is you to stop having stupid ideas, and to concentrate on fulfilling that service warrant you've singed. And as long as you're on your best behavior, I'll be making sure you're not deactivated." Sparkles of a mischievous smile came back to his optics. "Neither by me nor anybody else. Deal?"
Terrorsaur glared at him, trying to look impassive. Stupid idea, huh? Rust was going to pay this one... but what the heck, he'd only just decided to drop it himself... for the time being... so he was loosing nothing and gaining someone to guard his back. He shrugged.
"Deal."