25.11.06

The Fearful Transport

We all live
We all die
That does not begin to justify you

-“I Must Be Dreaming”, Evanescence

By: Katalina

________________________________________________________________________

It had been almost two weeks since the crash. For Cordelia each day seemed to fly by. She figured time go by much faster as she spent most of her time in the Mirrorwave, checking on defenses and power levels. On her time off, she explored around the swamp, with Crocnix or another Maximal as her own personal guard. (Stoneroar point-blank refused to be with Cordelia that involved anything with mud.) While she knew this is for her own well-being, it never stopped her from being irritated from the lack of privacy.

But what an alien can do?

Was Cordelia an alien?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes she was.

Rattrap called her the resident human to the others when everyone knew she was the resident alien in reality. The Maximals told her of the protohumans, but they don’t count. They were related, evolution speaking, but the fact remained that she was the alien on her own home planet. 

She hated the irony. Hate hate hate hate. And triple that by twice, please.  

She was outside of the Mirrorwave, wading around in the murk, observing the wildlife. Cordelia was hoping to catch a fish, any fish, so she can kill it and preserve it when they can finally get off. A collection of DNA from prehistoric Earth? She can see universities and companies would go on their knees begging for even for the tiniest of a DNA sample.

The very thought made her giggle. A little.

But still, it was a shame that they were not in the Cretaceous period or before. Dinosaur DNA would worth more than prehistoric fish just because of the sheer mythology of those terrible lizards.

Movement caught her eye in the water. She raised her own net.

Here fishy fishy fishy.

Cordelia threw the net. She waited for it to sink for a minute and then pulled it to her slowly. When the net finally went to shore, she checked on it. Cordelia sighed in disappointment. No fish. Damn, how does a marine biologist get bad on a simple fishing trick? Space-travel must have done something with her brain.

“Trying to catch dinner?”

Cordelia didn’t bother to look up. “No, more like trying to catch cash.”

Crocnix quirked his lips in amusement. “How so?”

“Do you have any idea that fresh DNA from long-extinct animals would have some potential million-dollar use?” It almost sounded like a rhetorical question.

“Ah,” The reptilian Maximal nodded. “That’s smart.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t tell Stoneroar. You know she’ll try to find any sort of profit from this.”  Cordelia swung her net again. “Already she’s been trading with the other Maximals with her own servant drones and God knows what.”

Crocnix chuckled to himself. “Wouldn’t put it past her,” he commented. “I’ve seen her and Rattrap arguing over what I think might be black market scrap. Before I left the other base, I saw Stoneroar kicked Rattrap in the shins while hollering bloody Pit.”

“The moment the two first meet, I knew sparks will fly.”

“From each other or from the guns?”

                                                                        *

Submerge in swamp water, Devivile was observing the two. Well, more of the human than the bot he learned was named Crocnix. Megatron was very vague on what he wanted from the human. “Observe the human on her behavior and her coordinates,” the High and Mighty Megatron ordered. If Devivile was a loyal soldier, he would consider Megatron’s  order the strangest he ever received in his entire life.

The past week was just that: observing. The human woke up presumably a few hours after sunset, as she was seen outside, walking around. The Maximal Crocnix followed her, apparently aware of the danger. Then she went back inside and stayed there much of the day. In the evening she went out to fish and catch insects for some strange reason. Occasionally she'd visit the Maximal base just for the sake of visiting. The mentioned Stoneroar was always there to manage their ship while the human visited. It took Devivile two days to learn the human’s name, which happened to be Cordelia.

Behavior-wise, there was nothing much really interesting at first. She had the habit of chewing her lower lip until it bleeds, the first thing he noticed. She’s spends most of her time inside, not bothering to spend her time alone in the swamp. When she is outside, she’s almost never alone. Crocnix or another Maximal would be beside her side.

But then, in the rare moments when she was truly alone for Devivile to observe, he saw something off in her. When in company, she was witty, thoughtful, and tends to look over her own interests as seriously as she done with others. But when alone, the opportunist remains with only a sense of sadness that she had never shown to the Maximals. But when a Maximal appears, the sadness vanished like smoke, all cheeky again.

She’s a liar. She lied to everyone, Devivile can see that.

But why the lying? What was she hiding?

                                                                        *

“Say,” Crocnix began. “Cheetor is coming over for bringing in some Energon cubes for the Mirrorwave. I thought he could give you a lift to the base.”

Cordelia frowned. “For what?”

Crocnix shrugged. “Well, you haven’t visited the base for a few days. I think the Maximals feel more relaxed when they see you, you know, all in one piece.”

“That’s nice of them to consider of me like that. Except Blackarachnia, of course. That femmebot did not like me one bit.” Cordelia withdrew her net. Seeing nothing caught, she snorted in annoyance and tossed it away.

“She’ll just have to get used to it,” Crocnix replied, suddenly grumpy. “We’re here, and not even she can change the fact.”

Cordelia raised her hands in a defensive gesture. “Geez, Crocnix, no need to get all ticky. I have no problems with her. Sheesh.”

“I’m sorry,” Crocnix apologized. “It is just that you seem to adapt so well in such a dangerous situation . . .”

Cordelia gave him an ugly look that made him trailed off. “Did you really think I haven’t realized that? Did you really think that I thought I was in some wildlife preserve? Damnit, Crocnix, two weeks ago I ordered the autoguns to fire on Predacons. I felt like slag doing that. I never fired a damn gun in my life, but now I have to check the defenses because some Pred might attack us!”

She took in a breath and continued, aware of the sound of blood rushing to her ears, aware the intense look on Crocnix’s regal face, as though he considering every vowel she makes. “I’m scared, Crocnix. But I have . . . I have to adapt. That’s life, Crocnix. Nothing can change it.”

We born, we live, we die. That’s all there is. We just have to make the best of living, Crocnix, even though I treated the last four years like shit.

Cordelia sighed. “Look, I just don’t need people to look over my shoulder every time, okay?”

Crocnix dipped his head in thought, optics dimmed. “I . . . It is just that, Primus help me, I’ve seen first hand what Predacons can do to their enemies. I’ve witnessed the civil war in Triopax and . . .” he trailed off and swallowed. He closed his optics for a brief moment before opening them.

“I was once a soldier, long ago, Cory,” he said softly to Cordelia by her old childhood nickname. “As I mentioned, I’ve seen what Predacons are capable of. I don’t want you to suffer that fate.”

Cordelia felt subdued. She knew Crocnix was once in the Maximal military long ago, before her birth, but he never told her of his experiences. She felt so selfish, now Crocnix hinting of what he is afraid of. A nice, big hint. Smooth, Cordelia, that’s real smooth. But damn, it was so uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” she muttered. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, both in their own worlds.

“Well,” Crocnix started, shaking himself out of his funk, “Do you like to visit the base, anyway? It’s all right if you don’t want too.”

“No, no, I’ll go. I have no problem of going. Lack of plumping over there, yeah, that’s a PITA.” She accepted Crocnix’s hand as he let her piggy-ride him.

“PITA?”

“Pain In The Ass.”

“You seriously need to reconsider your language, young lady . . .”

                                                                        *

Devivile wasn’t the only one who was spying on the Mirrorwave’s occupants.

Tarantulas was listening in the discussion with his own arachnoids, another viewing the crashed Maximal ship, all the while leaning back in his chair back in his lair. Repairing the Nemesis was difficult work, not to mention a strain on supplies on tools and resources. So he took the chance immediately when Megatron and the new Predacons left the crashed Predacon ship to salvage whatever he could.

Before he went to work, he noticed the Maximal rodent taking off after Megatron. This gave Tarantulas an idea as he dismantled the bridge. When he was done, he ordered the ship to self-destruct. The blame would be, hopefully, on the rat, so Megatron wouldn’t start sniffing around. But anything was possible.

The speech the human gave was amusing at best. Really, it was very modest for a human to acknowledge her own vulnerability. If he wasn’t so consumed by the mammoth task of repairing the Nemesis, he would have fun in toying with the human before feasting upon her defenseless flesh.

But still. Business first.

Before he went to his spy mission, he was asked by Megatron to infiltrate the Mirrorwave. Why couldn’t Megatron do the task himself, Tarantulas had his doubts. In exchange, Tarantulas’ will have certain equipment to have for him to use. But if the Mirrorwave has anything to value to Tarantulas, Megatron added, then Tarantulas will be free to plunder the ship under the condition that Tarantulas will help him in his super-secret project of his.

It was a strange request, even for Tarantulas, but he accepted nonetheless, fully aware of the irony that Megatron just lend a helping hand in his destruction.

Tarantulas decided to lend his talents the moment Megatron suggested it. What he saw Megatron’s latest project, it was most definitely the more complicated of his schemes. Given with the limited information provided by Devivile, trials proved that the project could not function by itself. Too little definite data. With Dinobot, it was more due to the fact Megatron knew the traitor personally. But with the target, it would be much more difficult, as she spends most of her time inside the ship. 

Tarantulas could only think up of one reason why Megatron would be focused on the human: easy prey for any Predacon to snatch her to woods, kill her, and then send the fake human back among the Maximals.

It was a good plan. A simple plan, if it wasn’t for the program inside the mechanical human keeps on malfunctioning. Of all the people, it was Inferno who’d suggested of remote controlling the droid. The question of who is controlling the droid has yet to be answered.

Tarantulas shrugged off his musings and started focusing at the job at hand. He knew the Mirrorwave would have better equipment than the unnamed Predacon vessel, as a transport ship. What equipment, he had no idea, but there must be something Transformer-worthy. One would think if you can infiltrate the Axalon, you can surely infiltrate this heap of junk.

Two things were wrong with this assessment.

For one, while not having a program like Sentinel like for protection, it was obvious this ship guarded by other means. The human tended to stay there, but when she was off visiting somewhere else, a few Maximals would stand guard. How they managed that with their own stasis-locked ancestors to protect, Tarantulas had no idea.

And second, Tarantulas had no idea what other defenses the crashed ship contained. For all he knew, there could be a protecto-droid inside to protect the human in case any Predacons infiltrate the Mirrorwave. Or maybe the ship has just as powerful defenses inside, like an inside-out Sentinel.

But with Crocnix and the human planning to leave the Mirrorwave gave Tarantulas the opportune moment. He ordered several of his arachnoids to drill a hole inside the Mirrorwave to investigate. When finally finished in drilling a hole, three of his mindless minions went inside, cameras in full view. In one of his screens he saw the bridge, a tiny, cramped room. Tarantulas ordered his two other drones to go to the hallway, as the one is in the bridge explored the computers.

By the Pit, this ship was pathetically tiny. It had four quarters, two suited for Transformers, two suited what appeared to be humans, judging of what appeared to be human-suited recharge beds. It seems the ship was supposed to house two humans, but the human-less room is stocked to the ceiling of parts, distilled Energon, and other oddities.

Tarantulas found the ending room at the hallway, the largest of such seemed to be a storage room. Like the empty human room, it was stocked almost to the ceiling of Transformer repair equipment and, from what Tarantulas could decipher, human medicine.

Well, well. Tarantulas finally figured out what this ship is: a medical supplies ship. Why a human and two Maximals were actually living together was beyond Tarantulas’ comprehension, but he knew as a well-known fact that a human with a limited supply of repair equipment wouldn’t last very long if it was either adventurous or in a dangerous situation.

Tarantulas very much doubted that this paticular human was particularly adventurous.

 Before the Transmetal spider could begin to order his arachnoid to destroy much human medicine as it could, a shriek pierced through his computer’s audio receptors.

“SWEET PRIMUS ON A HOLO STICK!”

Tarantulas jerked back in surprise. The bridge arachnoid managed to capture the face of the Maximal Stoneroar before the screen went blank with a crunch of metal. The other two screens, one in one of the Transformer’s quarters and the other in the storage unit.

“Slag!” Tarantulas swore. He ordered the two survivors to go back outside, but then he saw one enormous hoof in front of the screens before another crunch of metal. Tarantulas swore again and found his remaining arachnoid also destroyed.

Tarantulas sat there, Energon pumping though his systems still as he mulled over Stoneroar’s surprise-but-not-likely-so visit. He was so enraptured in his spy mission he completely forgotten that the fuzor was supposed to guard the Mirrorwave.

Well, at least it was not in vain. The Transformer repair equipment could be used as substitutes for the Nemesis. Shame he couldn’t get to the engine room: he could find other uses there too.

This also proves that infiltrating the Mirrorwave is just as easy as a defenseless Axalon. Maybe even more so.

Ah well. At least he knew the insides the Mirrorwave, and what holds it. But he needs to do it quickly—he had just made the Maximals suspicious. Tarantulas had a hunch the Mirrorwave won’t be standing in the swamp for long.

He turned on his communications link. “Tarantulas to Megatron . . .”

                                                                        *         

“Ugh.” Stoneroar daintily held what she thought to be some insect-like droid. “Disgusting thing.” She pulled her lips up in revulsion. But a yellow insignia caught her eye: it wasn’t a Maximal or Predacon sign, but something entirely different, as though in a form of a spider. How strange. She grabbed an empty box inside the human room/storage and placed the three destroyed droids inside.

She traded one of her own with Rattrap for two of his own hand-sized bombs (she planned to give these to Cordelia---gotta have the human protect herself than have her own guard), but she still had five, non-active bubble droids. Not insect droids.

Slag. Slag slag slag.

Stoneroar turned on the Mirrorwave’s comm. link and alerted the scramblers.

“This is Stoneroar to Maximal base, come in.”

Some static. Then, the most cheery voice in a good century: “Hey, ‘Roar! What’s up?” Stoneroar decided to ignore the impromptu nickname for now.

“What’s up, Pussy-cat? I’ll tell you the long and short of it: I found the ugliest droids that ever bothered to grace anyone’s optics. They had a funny insignia on their shells, though. It was not a Maximal nor a Predacon signature”

A pause. Then, a different voice. “Stoneroar? What did you find?”

“You tell me, Optimus. Three droids were crawling all over the place. I squashed them when I saw them.”

“Description?”

Stoneroar gave out an aggravated sigh. She hated it when she had to repeat herself to those who are not her patients. “Like insects.”

There was silence. Stoneroar wondered what on Cybertron were they doing? Exchanging incredulous looks, or snickering at the joke? Optimus voiced in again, this time sounding all leader-like, “Cheetor is heading over there right now, Stoneroar.”

“Okay,” Stoneroar replied mutually. “So . . . what is it? What is this thing that had the indignity to grace my optics?”

“One of Tarantulas’ arachnoids. He used them as spies, generally.”

“Who’s Tarantulas? Wait, never mind. You think this guy is interested in the Mirrorwave?”

“It’s possible. To be honest, I’m surprised none of the Predacons have attacked the Mirrorwave ever since you all arrived.”

“That’s a nice thoughtl,” Stoneroar said dryly. Out the corner of her optics, she noticed a familiar silver-and-gold shape flying above the ship. “Cheetor is here. Stoneroar, out.”  Stoneroar sighed. Damn, just when everything about to be peachy, it falls apart.

Well, no need to cry over spilled Energon. It all depended on if you had a really good rag.

                                                                        *

Depth Charge emerged from his own quarters from a recharge when he overheard a loud conversation down at the hall.

“Rattrap, you suck.”

“What?” An accented voice protested. “I did a fair trade . . .!”

“And not giving me any notice of it? I can give you a better deal than that lunatic!” Depth Charge frowned. It was a female voice, but it wasn’t Blackarachnia.

“Hey, now,” the mouse said. “It ain’t my fault if you missed the memo.”

“What? WHAT? Memo? What slaggin’ memo? You considered Crocnix seeing your shiny ass kicked by Stoneroar as a goddamn memo?”

“Wait, he saw that?”

“He had.”

“Eh.”

“No, not ‘eh’!”

“Well, what do you want? I’m a busy mech, and time’s a-wasting.”

Silence.

“Girl, you are a piece of work. You and the goat both.”

“You still suck Rattrap.”

“I like to be reminded. Is she still sleeping on your bed at any chance?” 

There was an angry shout followed by a large clunking noise and a protesting voice.

“Man, what is this? Let’s-All-Hit-Rattrap-‘Cause-He’s-A-Piñata-Day?”

Depth Charge shook his head and rolled his optics. He continued down the hallway, knowing he might have to run into the rat and hope to Primus that he wouldn’t bother him.

Instead of Rattrap, a much smaller figure practically ran straight into his knees without looking.

“OW!” She nursed her cranial ridge and looked up—and up—to meet the blood-red optics of Depth Charge.

Depth Charge was taken aback. He heard of new Maximals and Predacons crashed into the Beast Wars, but he didn’t particularly believe that there was a human in this mess. But there she was, lying on her organic skidplate and strands of red organic wire—hair—over her faceplate, partly covering her vivid green optics.

She glared at Depth Charge. “Who are you?” The human demanded as she climbed to her feet.

Depth Charge narrowed his optics. “Who are you?”

“I asked first,” the human replied flatly, folding her arms.

He subconsciously mirrored her movement. “Depth Charge.”

“Cordelia.”

Depth Charge narrowed his optics to slits. “How did you get here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” she replied blandly.

Years ago, Depth Charge would have grudgingly admitted to himself that he admired any tough underdog.

But that was years ago.

Depth Charge scoffed and brush past, not caring when one of his lower wingtips smacked her in the head.

                                                                        *

Rhinox leaned back in his chair. “Well, Optimus, what do you think? It must be Tarantulas.” Blackarachnia, summoned from her duties to give her opinion in the subject, gave the rhino a withering look.

“It must be,” Optimus agreed. “To be honest, I’m a bit relieved now we detected more Predacon activity, even it is Tarantulas. With the occasional half-hearted attacks on us, Megatron has been quiet. Almost too quiet.”

“You think he might be planning something.”

“Megatron always plans for something.”

Crocnix gave Optimus a sideways look. “What are your suggestions, then, Optimus? If those are spy droids inside the Mirrorwave, then we have to assume the Predacons are after something inside.”

“Or Tarantulas wants something for himself,” Blackarachnia added. She ignored Crocnix’s disgusted sneer. “Tarantulas is aligned with Megatron, but he doesn’t work for him. Not since announcing his double-agent role with the Tripredicus Council.”

“So Tarantulas could be interested in the Mirrorwave for himself, or is spying for Megatron’s benefit for whatever payment,” Rhinox surmised.

“What concerns me more is how much this Tarantulas discovered,” Crocnix said, optics glued to the Maximal commander. He sat on the table, his feet barely touching the broken, unleveled floor. “If he found the medical supplies, he might find some use in the Transformer parts, which are expandable.

“But it is the human medicine I’m concerned about. He could use the medicine to make a bargain, or worse, he could destroy them. Destroying those medicines will drastically limit Cordelia’s survival if she became ill or mortally injured.” He coughed. “To be honest, the probability of her getting injured or sick is very much high, given the circumstances.”

Optimus nodded. “Are you considering of moving into here?”

The crocbot ground his crocodilian teeth. “Looks like no other alternative. But moving the Mirrorwave to here might be difficult, not mention dangerous.”

Blackarachnia gave him an affronted look. “Why do we need to move a five-ton ship?”

“Technological advancement,” Rhinox explained. “We’ll probably going to need every scrap of the Mirrorwave to make things move more smoothly, and to add extra defenses.”

Blackarachnia snorted. “Then why not break it apart? Take all the stuff that is needed the most, like weapons and the human medicine, then divide the ship into smaller parts.”

The three Maximals look at each other, surprised. Why hadn’t they thought of that before?

“Would it work?” Optimus asked to Crocnix.

Crocnix scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It could work. The more I think about it, the easier it would be for all of us if we moved it. Of course, plumbing might be a problem, but I believe we can fix it.” He ignored Blackarachnia’s own disgusted sneering noise.

Optimus nodded. “Agreed. We’ll start moving our spare equipment around to make room for the Mirrorwave parts. Crocnix, you better send Cordelia back to the Mirrorwave and get ready to pack up anything that you need. Rhinox, contact Stoneroar and Cheetor and relay on what we just decided. When the Mirrorwave is finally empty, Blackarachnia, I want you and Rhinox in charge of dismantling the Mirrorwave.”

Optimus paused. He knew placing Blackarachnia in charge would be a major trust-issue. Optimus has his doubts, and didn’t completely trust her despite Silverbolt’s assurances. Even so, he knew Blackarachnia can do the job. But Rhinox’s skills could rival her also, so placing the two together would not only fasten the process, but Rhinox would also act as his insurance for Blackarachnia’s behavior.

Blackarachnia said nothing, but the invisible mistrust was still in the air. Optimus suspected she knew what the intended partnership fully meant. 

Crocnix, pretending to be oblivious of the subtle hostility, had left the command center to find Cordelia.

                                                                        *

Megatron did not like it when he had to hasten anything in his plans. Thanks to Tarantulas’ incompetence, Megatron had to move quickly to subdue and kill the girl before the Maximals even noticed her disappearance.

He’d also to make the quick decision on who would be controlling the human mech. He finally chosen Devivile, since he was the one who knew more of the human than any other Predacon.

He, along with all of the Predacons except Devivile, were in the jungle, close by  the swamp in beast mode.

“Rampage, Inferno, Jezevant, I want you three to attack the Maximal base as a distraction when I give the order. Inferno, you are in charge.”

Inferno transformed into robot mode and saluted Megatron. “As you command, Royalty.”

Jezevant also transformed and allowed Inferno to pick her up. Rampage could only grunt as he reverted into tank form and lumbered away.

Megatron raised his mighty head to the trees, where Carrion was perched on the highest treetops. “Anything to report?”

The black vulture, camouflaged in the shadows, look down at the Transmetal tyrannosaur. “Nothing yet. Are you certain the human would return to the ship if the spider’s spies were discovered there?”

“I am certain of it. And am I hear you question my orders again, you will have your own voice box cut out!”

Quickstrike cut in, also in beast mode. “When the girl comes back, what next?”

“Carrion will take out the humane task of killing the weakling, as he is the only one who can fly a quick getaway, other than me and Waspinator. We attack at the same time, camouflaging Carrion’s abduction.”

“Aw,” the arachnoid fuzor sagged in disappointment. Clearly he wanted to have the fun part of the mission.

Megatron continued on. “I will activate the human droid when Carrion completes his mission. Devivile will then blend in with the Maximals, sabotaging them long enough to effectively weaken them. Then we launch a full-scale attack with all the power we can muster. Victory will be ours!”

“Speaking of which,” Carrion called down. “The human and the Mirrorwave captain have arrived!”

Megatron’s predatory optics gleamed in excitement. “Predacons, TERRORIZE!”

                                                                                              *                                                                                            

“Depth Charge, huh?” Crocnix frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember his name. He heard of that name before . . .

“You know him?” Cordelia squint her eyes against the howling wind.

Crocnix felt a sudden pang of guilt and regret as he finally remembered the name. “No, not really. I’ve heard of him,” he said hesitantly. He didn’t really want to bring it up, now that he remembered who Depth Charge is.

But Cordelia was not a person who is put off easily. “Who is he?”

“He . . . he was the survivor of the Omnicron explosion.” Crocnix mentally braced himself.

But there was only silence. Crocnix felt Cordelia’s hands on his shoulders tighten, the only reaction she’ll ever give.

Cordelia and Crocnix were quiet for the rest of the trip. As he landed on the soft earth of the swamp, Cordelia got off of him and determinedly stared at the water, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey, Cordelia! Crocnix!” Cheetor waved at him, with Stoneroar next to him. Cordelia suddenly beamed, looking as though nothing affected her.

“Hey, Cheetor, Stoneroar. I heard you guys had a bug problem.” Cordelia managed to laugh her bad joke.

Stoneroar could only grunt. “Yeah, well, the exterminator already got ‘em. At least you don’t have to touch them. Primus they’re ugly.”

Just as she said those words, a large boom blasted above their heads. Cordelia howled in surprise and pain as flaming shrapnel from the destroyed autogun rained on them. Crocnix tackled her, his body protecting her from the hellish shower.

Crocnix looked up and saw the two familiar Predacons he saw two weeks ago, this time with a spiderbot and another with a snake head as an arm. He pulled Cordelia up, intent of shoving her back to the Mirrorwave when a black bot landed in front of the two, wings spread wide.

Cordelia gasped in shock. It was her first personal encounter with a Predacon.

The feathered Predacon smiled briefly before jumping at the two. His fist connected with Crocnix’s face, the other grabbing Cordelia roughly away from his grasp. A clicking noise, a loud BANG then a sharp pain, Crocnix found himself in midair and landed in a sharp thud.

The punch made him dizzy. Confused, he lifted his head and saw both Cheetor and Stoneroar firing relentlessly at two Predacons, one named Megatron and the other with the snake-arm.

But no sign of the birdbot and Cordelia.

“NO!”

Thinking more clearly now, he saw the Mirrorwave still open. He lunged inside, hoping to see Cordelia somehow escaped. Instead, he saw down in the hallway a transmetal spiderbot (he assumed to be Tarantulas) inside the room where the repair equipment are stored. Subspacing certain Transformer equipment. 

Roaring in rage, Crocnix tackled  him on the spot, striking repeated blows to the head. Tarantulas yelled in pain and tried to turn around to face him, but Crocnix pinned him down with both his feet and one arm. Withdrawing one of his pistols, not aware of his own guttural hissing, he aimed at the spider’s back and fired.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

Not entirely though the spider, Crocnix stepped away from Tarantulas’ quivering body and transformed to beast mode. His massive jaws clammed down on one of Tarantulas’ robot legs.

Tarantulas shrieked in pain. He writhed from the blasts on his back and kicked feebly at Crocnix’s snout.

Without warning, Crocnix shook his head, making Tarantulas slam from one wall to the other in the cramped hallway. His beast mode’s instincts slowly taking Crocnix’s rational mind, he battered the Transmetal spider until he stopped moving.

Still in beast mode, he dragged the spider to the bridge. When he did so, he transformed back to robot mode and kicked the offline spider out of the Mirrorwave. He turned on the Mirrorwave’s weapons, only to find them destroyed. He went outside to look around and found Cheetor and Stoneroar still fighting rigorously. He noticed the wounds they sustained, yet the continued fighting.

He looked around desperately, hoping to see Cordelia.

To his dismay, he didn’t see her.

“Cordelia!” he bellowed in vain.

A wasp-like Predacon swooped in out of nowhere and suddenly fired at Crocnix. He rolled to the ground, summoned his pistols and fired at the offender. The insect fell to the ground, apparently easily taken by enemy fire.

Two down, he thought grimly. He turned to Megatron, who was firing relentlessly against the two Maximals. Crocnix turned on his communicator. “Crocnix to Maximal base, come in!”

“What?” Rattrap’s voice came in, sounding slightly frazzled.

“We need back-up! The Preds are killing us here!” He yelled. He needed someone to yell to.

“We’re under attack too, ya crazy lizard! We’ll try to---”

Crocnix lost it. “She’s gone! They took Cordelia! WE NEED BACK UP!” He screamed the last sentence and promptly turned off his comm. link. He glared at Megatron, who was too busy to notice Crocnix.

He will soon.

Crocnix bared his teeth.

“JETS ON!”

                                                                                              *                                                                     

Rattrap was sat in the control room, alone. In the booms and shaking foundations, Rattrap was stunned.

But only briefly.

Rattrap turned on his communications. “Rattrap to Optimus!”

In the screens, he saw Optimus firing upon Inferno. “What is it?” Optimus grunted between shots.

“Crocnix requested back-up. He said de Preds took Cordelia!”

Optimus groaned. Rattrap couldn’t tell if it was from a lucky shot from Inferno or from the situation. He could tell he was torn between protecting the Ark and coming down to bring back-up himself.

Rattrap surveyed the scene. Along with Depth Charge, Rhinox, Silverbolt, and Blackarachnia are already outside defending the Ark. If Rattrap added his firepower . . .

“Optimus, you better go ahead to give Crocnix some back up. We’ll take it from here.”

Optimus didn’t like the situation, but what other choice did he have? “I’ll come back soon,” he promised as he transformed into flight mode and took off after the Mirrorwave.

Rattrap grabbed his own trusty gun and ran toward the blast doors. Crocnix’s last message was in his mind, a cry of fear and despair that could’ve even unnerved Dinobot if he was alive. 

Even with all the bullets and lasers and bombs whizzing past him, even with all of his friends’ yells and screams, he could still hear Crocnix’s despair echoing in his head.

                                                                                              *                                                                                                                                             

The human was not the more submissive of captives.

One hand firmly over her mouth, the other wrapped around her upper torso, Carrion flew as hard as he can toward his destination. It was one thing to hold somebody while flying, it is completely different when that somebody almost your size fighting you.

Carrion managed to not to vocalize his discomfort as she managed to kick him viciously in the shins.

Seeing his rendezvous point, he narrowed his wings and dived. He went past the treetops, ignored the constant wiggling and---

PAIN.

Carrion howled in surprise as he felt repeated stabs of heat in his left chest plate and shoulder. To his horror, his left arm stopped functioning. The girl slipped from his gasp, covered in mech fluid, holding triumphantly an Energon blade. She struck again, this time at his other hand.

Carrion let go of his hold before the blade sliced his hand off. With his good arm, he grabbed a branch and hung there, watching the human falling to the forest floor. He let go and landed on a branch as he heard a satisfying splash below. Carrion touched his lame arm gingerly. Sparks sputtered violently. He winced.

He hoped she drowned, but that’s hoping a little too much.

Carrion originally intent of killing the human with his silent fusion-rifle: a quiet, clean death to the head. But with his important arm maimed, he had to rip the body to pieces with his automatic wing guns.

The avian bot sighed. Unlike Jezevant, he didn’t have the love of engaging the enemy and ripping him to pieces while still functional. It wasn’t that he was sentimental, he merely preferred of doing things more quickly with less mess.

Carrion jumped off the branch and plunged to the jungle depths below.