Beast Wars Anonymous:

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 1
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

To Airazor's eyes, the night sky looked like something straight out of a gothic horror novel-- inky and bottomless and black. It was traced here and there with struggles of gray and silver which might, perhaps, be dawn... or maybe just the fading light of sunset. Strangely enough she couldn't remember what time it was supposed to be, and even stranger still she didn't really care.

As the falcon cruised through the darkness, everything around her was swathed in night. The bleak cliffsides below were no more than faint crouched outlines, and the forests and rivers couldn't even be seen. What stars there were were barely more than pinpricks, and their dusting of faint light did nothing to soften the blackness. Nothing at all stirred, except for Airazor herself, cutting her way into the night.

*Something is definitely wrong here,* Airazor thought to herself as the air rolled silently over her wings. *Being alone is fine, but this is just a little too alone.* Nervously she dipped her head, cruising lower, straining to see where the sky ended and the earth began. Something was beginning to shift inside her, something nasty and frightening. Something like a warning.

It was at about that moment when laughter slipped across her world, a light and inviting sound that shattered into a thousand pieces of sunlight and scattered her unease. She turned her head, drawn to the laughter, hope building inside. *I know that sound,* she thought in delight. *Everything will be okay.* Drawing her wings in close, Airazor wheeled about and set her sights on a small, thin patch of trees below, where that fantastic laughter still echoed.

Excitement and joy filled Airazor's mind, and she could not tell if moments or hours had passed before she cruised through the sparse pines, looking about her with barely concealed eagerness. And just as suddenly as laughter had scattered the night, a copper-colored robot was standing there in the grassy clearing, arms outstretched, a beautiful smile beaming out at her. She flew towards him, her eyes shining.

But she had moved too soon; far too soon, it seemed, for night pounced in an invisible leap and once again swallowed the world, swirling around and inside her friend. His laughter turned harsh and ugly as Airazor threw herself back, struggling to stop as the laughter twisted, contorted, and reached for her again, this time without the tender promises of love and caring but with the cackling threat of insanity. She wanted to go to him, oh how she wanted to help him, but not like this, not with that disease inside of him, because if she touched him now it would seep into her too, and somehow that thought was just too terrible to comprehend. She tried to turn away, pumping her wings frantically to escape, as that hideous laughter rang in her head and the blackness reached out to consume her--

Airazor woke up in the darkness of night to the sound of own heart racing in her ears and what must have been the dwindling echoes of a cry fading into nothingness. Gasping for breath, she sat up on her bed, pressing her hands against her face. "Oh, man," she whispered, willing herself to calm down. Getting shakily to her feet, she walked around her quarters slowly, letting her hands glide over the familiar surfaces and objects which served as reminders that she was now solidly in the real world. "A dream," she whispered, "Just a dream." Yet she could still hear that laughter so clearly inside her that she pressed her forehead against the wall, willing herself to think of something else, anything else.

A soft tap on her door startled her, and she straightened, swallowing hard. "Go away," she said in what she hoped would sound like an authoritative order, but instead came out as a squeak.

The door opened slowly, and as soon as Airazor got a glimpse of Rhinox's troubled face, she turned away. "Are you all right?" Rhinox asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone," she snapped, careful to keep her back to him so he couldn't see her face.

Rhinox walked into the room slowly, unsure of how to proceed. "When someone wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, it's a concern," he said gently.

"It was nothing."

"This is your fourth 'nothing' in a row."

Airazor closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I just need to get some air, okay?" she said tartly. "Excuse me." Airazor turned and brushed past Rhinox on her way into the dimly-lit corridor, leaving him standing in the doorway to stare after her in confusion.

Airazor walked briskly down the hall, anxious to reach one of the outer hatches. *I have to get out of here,* she thought nervously. *Get outside... clear my head.* Rounding a corner, Airazor jumped again as a yellow blur skidded to a stop before her with a wild scrabbling of claws on metal. Heaving a sigh, she ran a hand down her face. *Gotta get a hold of myself.*

The cheetah sat back on his haunches, panting for breath. "Hi Airazor," he managed to wheeze, but before he could say more Airazor stepped past him, rubbing her optics as she continued distractedly on her way. Cheetor scrambled to catch up, quickly falling into step beside her. "Airazor, I heard you scream," he explained, staring up at her. "Are you okay?"

"Not you, too," she sighed. "Look, I'm fine. Can't I please just get some peace?"

He ducked his head. "Well, I'm kinda the resident expert on nightmares," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I thought maybe I could help."

Airazor continued to stare straight ahead, avoiding his pleading green eyes. "No, Cheetor," said said firmly as she stopped and opened one of the hatches, allowing a warm night breeze to drift inside. "Thanks for the offer, but you wouldn't understand. Beast mode." As her body reshaped itself into the form of a beautiful falcon, she took to the sky. "Stand down, Sentinel," Airazor ordered as she glided into the air, and with an iridescent shimmer the invisible shield guarding their base disappeared.

Cheetor stood in the hatchway, watching his friend until she had blended into the night. "Airazor?" he said a final time, frowning in puzzlement. What in the name of Cybertron had gotten into her?

Airazor flew straight into the wind, trying in vain to outrun her thoughts. The air blasted against her eyes and she closed them in despair. It was hopeless. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, there was no way to outrun a nightmare. "Lightcrasher," she whispered, shaking her head. With a small sigh she pulled her wings in close and swung low in the sky, never noticing the streak of light arching down from the stars in the distance.

Midnight breezes continued on, stirring the air and causing the endless stretches of golden grasslands to sway in unison. They raced over field and forest, meadow and mountain... and the ice cold metallic surface of a stasis pod.

Silent, the pod lay facedown among the grasses, the violence of its fall apparent in its scuffed and cracked exterior. Bits of metal surrounded it in a glittering halo for thirty yards, as though it were the center of a astrological map. A thin, hairy leg reached out to poke the stasis pod carefully, then was jerked away with a sharp intake of breath. "Cold," the huge spider mused. "Air cold. Tarantulus, terrorize!"

A whir of gears, and the black spider reshaped itself into an equally hideous black robot, sneering down at the pod. "Let's get this flipped over," he muttered. "Scorponok!"

Several feel away, a hulking gray robot turned slowly at the sound of his name. He stood with shoulders slumped; having been lost in his own thoughts, he looked back at Tarantulus with wide, blank eyes. The spider motioned him over, and together they struggled to lift the pod.

"This is... a lot heavier than it looks," Scorponok gasped, glancing over the smooth surface for a good place to clamp his pinchers. The pod slipped from his grasp and one end bounced against the ground, causing the silver chamber to jump like a dog that had just been kicked. Scorponok swallowed and rushed to lift the pod once more, grunting with the effort.

"You know, Megatron COULD help us with this," Tarantulus panted.

Scorponok shook his head emphatically. "Megatron has more important things to do."

"Hurry UP!" A voice growled from the darkness, causing the two Predacons to startle. A Tyrannosaurus Rex loomed over them suddenly, sharp teeth gleaming. "Idiots! This shouldn't have to take all night!"

"Oh, what does it matter?" Tarantulus snapped. "Look at this; the homing beacon is destroyed. The Maximals won't be able to find it."

"Not unless they saw it fall like we did, dolt! Now get the pod turned over, so we can see what's wrong with it!"

Scorponok's claws suddenly latched on to the edge of the pod, and with a mighty grunt he pushed it over, right side up. Almost immediately a gassy, sweet smell filled the air as smoke escaped lazily from the thick cracks in the pod's casing. When the rich smell hit Scorponok, his eyes bulged sightlessly and he grimaced, stumbling away on a gagging search for fresh air. Tarantulus merely narrowed his eyes and crouched down beside the pod, clearing away the mud and ice from the status panels.

As Megatron waited impatiently for the stench to subside, he studied the pod before him. Clearly, it had suffered profound damage, but he felt that it would survive. The stasis pods and protoforms were strong. They had to be; they were too valuable to be any other way.

Scorponok coughed dryly next to him and Megatron shot him a glare of light disgust. *Loyal, perhaps. But no class. No class at all.* Of course, class wasn't really what mattered on the battlefield... strength mattered. Intelligence mattered. Through Inferno and Blackarachnia, the first two protoform-to-Predacon recruits of his army, they had both. So what if Inferno was not all that smart? His loyalty was unending, and his fighting techniques lethal. Blackarachnia had a lust for power that clouded her vision, but her talents had proven valuable enough to balance it. For now.

As Tarantulus gently attempted to coax information from its circuits, Megatron stepped closer to the pod. *What secrets does it hold? What talents?* This would be a much-needed warrior. It was the fourth pod to fall in as many weeks, and the Maximals had taken the first two to increase their numbers to nine. The third pod had been recovered by the Predacons, and now this one would become a Predacon soldier as well.

Provided it survived.

Scorponok's curiosity finally got the better of him and he inched forward, coughing. "Could the protoform have survived this?" he wondered aloud, as he peered closer at the dented and warped metal.

"I don't know," Tarantulus replied. "I can't get any information from it at all."

"Preposterous!" Megatron sneered, knocking Scorponok aside to look at the controls. "Why hasn't the replication process begun?"

"I don't know," Tarantulus confessed nervously. His eyes roamed the pod, searching for something, anything-- and there it was, firmly locked onto the side. He touched it lightly, frowning at the red and gold lights blinking on the small box. "Wait-- this device--"

"Yes?"

"I must admit I'm a bit unfamiliar with these--"

"YES?"

"--but it appears to be a locking device," Tarantulus finished, and Megatron's eyes began to gleam in the darkness. "I've never seen something like this on a pod. It seems to be preventing all replication." Tarantulus paused, then turned to look at Megatron. "It's a safe bet that the pod won't replicate until we enter the proper code."

Scorponok sneered. "Why bother?" He sank heavily to one knee beside the pod and leaned close to it. The others stared in puzzlement at this display until the scorpion began to carefully line up the deadly missile encased in his claw with the locking device.

Megatron reached over briskly and smacked Scorponok hard with his tail, knocking the Predacon asprawl. "What are you thinking?" he demanded impatiently. "You could destroy the protoform." His eyes traveled slowly back to the pod, caressing its ravaged exterior with a gentle gaze. "And if the Maximals would put a security device on a pod, that is NOT a protoform we want destroyed, no."

"But how can we break the--"

Megatron turned, his red eyes glittering as brightly as the summer stars above. "I'm sure you can figure something out, Tarantulus. And if not, perhaps Blackarachnia can put her skills to use."

Tarantulus' face snapped when he heard the name. "The witch?" he spat. "I think I can handle this."

"Indeed." Megatron smiled. "Let's go. The less time wasted, the better." He turned and stalked off silently, with the others struggling along behind.

Scorponok peeked over the unwieldy pod to smile at Tarantulus. "What do you think is in it?" he asked teasingly. "Perhaps another female for your enjoyment?"

"Silence, dullard," Tarantulus muttered.

"Oh, that's right-- Blackarachnia isn't exactly smitten for you, is she?"

"Silence!" Tarantulus yelled sharply.

"Shut up," Megatron warned from ahead, and Scorponok closed his mouth so fast it made an audible snap. Shaking his head, Tarantulus fell silent as well as they began the long, exhausting walk back to the base.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 1 continued
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

Tigatron paused at the edge of the beach, enjoying the sensation of heat baking into his paw pads. It was still early and the skies were a weepy slate gray, but here at the foot of the ocean it was as beautiful as the clearest morning. Waves broke gently against the shore with soft, endless roar, and gulls cried and spun above. Even without the sun, the ocean still sparkled with the life of a million shades of green and blue. Normally, Tigatron could spend hours here, warm in the sand, lulled by the rushing water, hypnotized by the beauty of nature.

But not today.

This was the patrol route he wished he had-- along the shores of the water, through the rocky cliffs and crevices. But only a flier could adequately cover such terrain. That was why Optimus had assigned Airazor this route, and that in turn was one of the reasons he frequented it. She was strong and beautiful, intelligent and brave... he was almost in love with her, and it was a thought so amazing he could barely acknowledge it at all.

Tigatron moved forward, smooth muscles rippling under his soft coat. He padded silently across the white sand, picking his way with careful grace around the rocks and driftwood cast upon the beach by generations of storms. It was impossible to enjoy this today, impossible to think of anything but Airazor. She had to explain to him what was going on. He cared about her too much to think of her in pain.

A brown and white falcon perched up ahead caught his attention, and he continued softly on. The large bird sat on the scraggly branch of a weather-beaten tree, face turned out to the ocean, back turned to him. It had its wings pulled in tight around its body, as though the faint breeze blowing off the water chilled it.

Tigatron stopped underneath the bird and said simply, "Airazor."

The falcon let out a scream and lurched headfirst off the branch, opening her wings to catch herself and spin about. She stared at Tigatron, her gaze a mix of surprise and anger. "You scared the hell out of me!" she yelled, finding a slightly higher branch to settle herself on.

Tigatron smiled up at her as she shook out her feathers. How in the world had it gone from friendship to love? And where would it lead? "I apologize, my lady," he said gently. "And what were your quiet thoughts here?"

"Oh, nothing special," she replied. *Just wondering if the ocean will ever look the same to me again.* "And what brings you out here to the back of beyond?"

The tiger sat back in the sand, fixing his eyes steadily on her. "I went by the base this morning to check in."

"Mmm hmmm?" Airazor busied herself tending to the feathers in her wings, pointedly avoiding the cat's gaze.

"The others were worried about you-- said you'd had some sort of a scare last night. I understand this has been going on for a while... Airazor, please look at me."

She looked at him. His broad face was gentle, eyes pleading to be let in. His features, she felt, would never reflect the sensitivity inside. *White tiger,* Airazor thought. *Should've been a deer or an antelope or something.* Airazor bit down on her tongue to keep the giggles inside. Granted, the idea of Tigatron-- Bambitron?-- galloping across the countryside was humorous, but she didn't want to laugh at him.

"Airazor, please tell me what's been going on. I'm your friend. I want to help you."

Airazor frowned lightly. Where had she heard those words before?

*I think you know.*

Could she trust Tigatron?

*Of course.*

Could she trust Tigatron with the bane of her dreams?

*No.*

Airazor agreed with that last thought. What happens when you get burned? You learn to stay away from the fire. She had learned that lesson the hard way, and was not anxious to add another wicked scar to her collection.

"Sorry, Tigatron," she said briskly. "You can't help me."

Tigatron's eyes seemed to dull, and he looked away for a moment. "You know you can trust me, Airazor."

"I know."

"So why can't you talk to me?"

"I just can't."

"That's not a good answer."

"It's the only one I can give you."

"Airazor!" His voice was sharp; sharper than she could ever remember hearing it. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Why can't you respect my privacy?" She offered Tigatron a hard, thin smile that he blinked at just a bit.

"Fine. If you're going to be so hard-nosed about this, that's your business. I only care about you, Airazor. I only want to help."

The gentle sorrow in his voice squeezed at her heart, and Airazor turned away. God, how she wanted to tell him everything! But what good could it do? This wasn't something she could talk about, and it certainly wasn't something she could tell Tigatron. It would remain inside, within her. She would have to be a fool to let herself care again.

Airazor sucked in her breath. She was a Maximal scout, a WARRIOR, for Primus's sake, and she wasn't going to sit in a half-dead tree crying her damn stupid eyes out. Especially with Tigatron standing there. Time to finish this.

"Tigatron," she said evenly. "I appreciate your concern for my well-being. Maybe sometime I can talk to you about this, but not now, and I would appreciate it if you could give me what I need. If you'll excuse me, I have to finish my patrol."

Airazor opened her wings, talons leaving the branch as she launched herself skyward. Tigatron stared at her as she rapidly ascended, leaving him there on the beach, alone and bewildered. The scent of ocean salt was strong, like bitter tears. Airazor closed her eyes. *Don't look back. This will end, Airazor. It has to end.*

*Just whatever you do, don't look back.*

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 2(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

The day simply had not started off well.

For one thing, he had a throbbing, queasy headache, and that always made working more difficult. The Airazor incident had left him sleepless, not to mention concerned... and the argument going on behind him at the moment wasn't helping his concentration, either.

"Look, it's my weapon, and I'm gonna take care of it!"

"But I want to do it! I never get to do anything with guns around here."

"Yeah, and there's a reason for that! Don't ya remember ya nearly shot my head off last time?"

"I'll be more careful!"

"I ain't gonna take the chance!"

"Will you two shut up?" Rhinox snapped, turning from his workstation to glare at the pair. Cheetor and Rattrap looked around from the weapon they had been arguing over, surprised. Rhinox frowned at them darkly. Part of him wanted to laugh at their antics and shrug it all off; another part of him wanted to storm across the room and throttle the both of them.

"Problem, Rhinox?" asked Optimus Primal, walking into the command room.

"I'm all right, Optimus," he sighed, rubbing his head. "I've got a few things I need to talk to you about, though. And I would appreciate it if I could have a little quiet?"

Optimus glanced over at the duo. "Cheetor, let Rattrap do what he needs to do." Rattrap grinned, victorious, and snatched the weapon out of Cheetor's hand. "Why don't you go try to figure out where Tigatron took off to this morning?"

Cheetor nodded gratefully. "Finally, some action!" he exclaimed in delight, transforming down to his beast form and wasting no time in skidding out of the room.

Rhinox shook his head as Optimus turned back to him. "So?"

"Here's the first problem." Rhinox's fingers moved nimbly over the keyboard before him, and a brightly-colored grid of their planet came to life on the screen. "These are the stats on stasis pods remaining in orbit as of yesterday evening... and here is that information as of a cycle ago."

Optimus leaned forward, frowning at the glowing figures. "We're one short?"

"I've run the scan three times; it's not a mistake. We've got a pod missing from orbit, but the computer is reporting nothing new on the ground."

"How's that possible?" Rattrap called from behind them, not bothering to look up as he polished the barrel of his gun. Rhinox could see the same question mirrored in the eyes of his commander.

"Don't know. The pod probably burned up in the planet's atmosphere; that or the homing beacon was knocked out."

"Maybe if it did land, the Preds didn't see it, either," Rattrap offered.

"Possible, but not likely."

"Well, we missed it," Rattrap said with a grin.

Optimus ignored him. "Ground scans show nothing?"

"Nothing. So, it was either destroyed, or--"

"The Predacons have already recovered it." Optimus rubbed his optics.

"Hey, the last protoform the Preds got died," Rattrap shrugged. "Maybe this one did, too."

"That's real sweet of you, Rattrap," Rhinox snapped.

"We don't know for certain what happened to that pod," Optimus commented. "It's not smart to make any hasty conclusions."

"Some of the orbits are starting to deteriorate," Rhinox muttered, studying his figures. "That's why we've had four pods crash in the past month."

"Yeah, and we recovered the first two of those; two pods that didn't have any problems." Rattrap paused and grinned. "Well, granted, Tungsten and Singspiel have got problems, but they survived."

"But if the Predacons recovered the pod that crashed last night, we've lost our advantage. Because that will be two of the four they've gotten."

Rattrap rolled his eyes. "Optimus, the third pod is dead! It practically came down on the back doorstep of Pred HQ, and according to the ol' computer here it was nearly split in half on impact regardless. I mean, since we haven't seen any new Predacons around since..."

"It probably died," Optimus stated. "But not definitely."

"Yeah," Rattrap snorted. "Kinda like the pod that crashed last night. Look, I'm not rootin' for ANY new Preds to be around. We got enough already. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go recharge this here weapon to make sure the next Pred I meet don't see his next birthday either." Slinging the gun over his shoulder, Rattrap strode cockily from the room.

"Finally, some peace," Rhinox sighed.

Optimus smiled. "Well, there's nothing we can do about the pod now. I suppose we'll find out for sure the next time we run into the Predacons... and we'll deal with whatever happens."

"Sure. We always do."

Optimus sat back in one of the chairs, putting his feet up on the command table. "Speaking of which, what's all this I've heard about Airazor lately?"

Rhinox sat back, rubbing his head. It was getting awfully hard to think past his headache. "That was the other problem. She's been waking up everybody in our deck for the past three or four nights with her screams. She keeps having these nightmares but won't tell anybody about them. I think Tigatron went off to talk to her about it this morning."

"It's not like her to be so closemouthed about things that are bothering her."

"I know. Maybe Tungsten's rubbing off on her?"

Optimus groaned. "Tungsten. Let's not get started." Both were silent for a moment. The commander then turned, squinting at his friend. "You feeling all right, Rhinox? You seem a little tired."

"Just a headache, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit swamped."

"I understand," Optimus sighed, getting to his feet and stretching. "Things have been crazy around here lately... of course, they always are. Think we'll ever get a smooth day?"

Rhinox smiled ruefully. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"Stand down, Sentinel." Airazor's voice rang out sharp and clear as she dove in towards the Axalon, flattening her wings against her body. The shield sparkled into nothingness as she dropped through, transforming in the air and landing gently on the dusty ground in robot mode. She stepped onto one of the ship's elevators and tipped her head back to watch as it bore her silently upwards into the inner workings of the headquarters, drawing her towards the low-lit, always-a-little-too-cold interior.

The clear doors of the lift opened with a sigh, and Airazor stepped out into the command room. Optimus stood nearby, leaning against the table. Rhinox was sitting across the room, rubbing his temples. A computer screen behind him hummed busily, flashing with red dots and green lines. Both of the Maximals' eyes were fixed on her.

Airazor froze. *What in Cybertron are they staring at me for? Oh yeah-- report.* "Ah, nothing new to report," she said quickly. "All's clear."

"Good," replied Optimus. "Anything else you'd like to discuss with us?"

Something inside of her hardened. "No sir," she said, almost a little too sharply.

"All right, then."

Airazor paused for a moment more, and when it became clear that Optimus and Rhinox were not going to stop looking at her until she left, she spun on her heel and sought quick escape through the nearest hallway. *Geez, the two of them looking at me like I'm some sort of criminal. They've no right to go prodding into my life! All anybody around here wants to do is help, be a friend, be a shoulder to cry on-- Primus, don't they have lives of their own?*

"Um-- Air-Airazor?"

The voice was so soft for a moment Airazor thought it might have come from within her own head. She paused in the corridor and looked towards the shadows, where she saw faint movement. "Cheetor?"

"No... it's me." The figure inched out of the darkness slowly, the hall lights falling across its soft silver fur. The wolf looked up at her timidly, its frightened demeanor a startling contrast to the powerful muscles and shining fangs. She recognized him as one of two recent additions to their team, delivered safely via stasis pod. Airazor clicked her tongue against the top of her mouth. "Tungsten?"

His face broke out into a lopsided smile; he seemed greatly relieved. "Yeah. You remembered."

"Well, you don't make it easy," she replied, looking into his friendly, dusky gold eyes and finding it impossible not to return the grin. "You've been here two weeks, and I can count on one hand the number of times I've seen you."

"Well, I'm-- I'm a little shy," he confessed.

"I noticed," Airazor returned gently.

"I was just won--wondering, um... are you new here, too?"

"Me? Nah, I've been down here for quite a while. What makes you ask?"

"You just seemed-- I don't know, kinda quiet. Kinda like me."

"I've just had a lot of things on my mind lately," she admitted with a sigh.

"Oh, I know it!" Tungsten nodded. "Me, too."

Airazor studied him. Funny that a 'bot so timid should end up with such a beast form. *Yet another Bambitron,* she thought, and smiled on Tungsten compassionately. "Well, I can remember what it's like to be new around here. There are a lot of faces to get used to."

Tungsten winced and shook his head. "It-- it's not that. It's just... the--the situation, Airazor! This is insane!"

She looked at him blankly.

"An exploration ship crashed here? No way to contact home? Fighting a WAR, with the Predacons? Not knowing where we are; not even knowing WHEN we are? This doesn't strike you, or anybody else as completely insane?"

"It was a mission gone wrong, Tungsten. But we're soldiers; we're used to insanity." *He loses his stammer when he gets upset. Well, with characters like Dinobot and Rattrap around, he'll lose it altogether before too long.*

"Uh uh, uh uh, that's where you're wrong." Nervously he stood and began pacing in quick circles. "I'm no soldier. I was a researcher on Cybertron. I didn't sign on to this mission to engage in hand-to-hand combat!"

"Oh, you can do it."

"Airazor--" his voice grew desperate-- "I don't want to do it. I don't care about the Predacons; I don't want to fight them! And even if I did want to, I can't! I'm terrible!"

"Maybe you should talk to Optimus about it."

Tungsten's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Talk to OPTIMUS? The commander? Airazor, you do jest." He was panting now, apparently exhausted from his outburst.

"Well, I can't knock you for that. I don't particularly feel like spilling my guts to anybody, either." She sighed and looked back down at the wolf. "So where you headed?"

"The command room, I guess," he shrugged, standing and beginning to walk down the hall. "Maybe I can talk to the computer."

Airazor did her best to keep the smile off her face. "Optimus is in there."

"Never mind." The wolf turned without breaking stride and began heading in the opposite direction.

She laughed. "Come on, Tungsten, he won't bite. Optimus is a great commander, and with time he'll become a good friend, too."

"Yeah, with time," Tungsten panted. "Maybe a few centuries. Did you know, this is the longest conversation I've had with anyone other than myself since I got here?"

"Well, proud to be on the receiving end of it, Tungsten."

He smiled hesitantly. "So what are you going to do about all that stuff on your mind?"

"Dunno. What about you and your problem?"

"I've no idea."

"Well, glad I could help." She smiled. "I'll see you later, Tungsten. Maybe we can arrange a support group or something."

"Deal." Tungsten smiled gratefully at her as she continued on her way, before he slunk quietly into the shadows once more.

Airazor strode on to her quarters, not thinking much about Tungsten but more on her own situation. After all, how could she not think about it? Something that big just wasn't easy to gloss over. And she wasn't sure she wanted to, anyway.

She pressed the entrance code for her quarters with practiced hand, and the door gave a soft pneumatic hiss as it slid back. As always, she headed straight for the corner, where she had everything set up-- the chair, her stand and containers, the window so that she could gaze out for inspiration. Briskly, Airazor settled down and reached into the nearest container with eagerness. Slowly she lifted her hands, smiling at the thick, transparent substance that coated them. True, sculpting semi-liquid glass wasn't one of the more accepted art forms, but it was a hobby she loved. Taking a blob of shapeless nothing and using her body and spirit to transform it into something beautiful-- it just didn't get any better than that. Tigatron had his oceans, Rhinox had his computers, Rattrap had his guns and gadgets, and she had this. Gently, Airazor let the glass slip off her fingers onto the stand and she began to knead it tenderly.

With her body finally beginning to relax, her mind wandered. Primus, those nightmares. She knew that something needed to be done, and although she hated the idea of speaking to anyone, keeping it inside these past four days certainly hadn't improved things. Perhaps... perhaps she should talk to someone. A different perspective. But who? Nobody around here, that was for sure. She needed a third party. Granted, no one knew the story, but she just couldn't stand facing anybody she knew.

Tungsten?

*Lord no. He's sweet enough, but he'd shake himself to pieces halfway through.*

And definitely nobody around here.

*Out of the question.*

Singspiel?

Airazor paused in her kneading to consider. Perhaps Singspiel would be the best choice. He could be ignorant, and he was certainly dorky at times, but he would not be afraid to offer his opinions. And he could keep a secret. She knew that because Optimus still hadn't heard about the little Dinobot versus the trash compactor incident of a while back, and she and Singspiel had been the only witnesses to that mess.

Airazor gave a last, regretful look down at her glass, then carefully slipped it back into the container. There would be time enough later. Now... time to end the nightmares.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 3(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

It was a cycle past noon, but it might as well have been midnight inside the Predacon base for all the light that filtered through. Why Megatron had ever insisted on doing this in the command room instead of the med bay was beyond her, but after nearly a year of life with her oddball team, Blackarachnia had become used to the various eccentricities. She could stand the hovering platforms, and she could bear with the heat rolling up off the lava below. But she had to drawn the line somewhere, didn't she? "And you expect me to work in this?" Blackarachnia snapped. "I can't even see my own hands! Get me some light, Megatron, if you expect me to try and repair your precious--"

Floodlights overhead suddenly snapped on, and Blackarachnia winced, shielding her eyes against the unexpected brightness. She blinked slowly as the command room came into focus around her-- an exhausted Scorponok and Tarantulus resting on the walkway near the far wall, Megatron's looming presence at her side, the other Predacons crowding curiously around the examination table, and-- The spider leaned forward in surprise, staring at the shattered remains of the stasis pod before her. "This is what you recovered?"

"What was left of it," Scorponok sighed.

"Move back, you buffoons!" Megatron snapped suddenly, scattering his troops. "Do not touch the pod! Give the spider room to work."

"Work?" Blackarachnia repeated, slowly moving around the table to give the pod closer examination. "What do you expect me to do? This pod looks even worse than the last one-- and we barely saved IT."

Megatron offered her a smug grin, and the spider's eyes narrowed-- she never hated him more than when he looked that way. "Look closer, Miss Arachnia, and tell me what you see."

She sneered at him but turned to the status panels regardless. Yes yes, hull breech, power fluctuations, damage ratios-- all to be expected. Some sort of device she didn't really recognize was fastened onto the side, but...

"Stupid witch!" Tarantulus snapped suddenly from across the room. "Don't you see it?"

"Of course I see it, if you'd give me half a cycle to look," she hissed back. She was frightened, so profoundly frightened that she hardly dared admit it. Something was not right about this protoform, and while she could not put her finger on it, unease coursed through every fiber of her being. "Since when have locking devices become standard issue on Maximal pods?"

"They have not, and therein lies the treasure," Megatron purred, stepping around to the stasis pod's head and touching the metal gently, almost lovingly. "This could be a very... special addition to the Predacon forces. What can you discover on the protoform's condition?"

As Blackarachnia began to warily coax information from the battered pod, Tarantulus narrowed his eyes and considered a vocal protest. After all, hadn't he been the one who originally examined the pod? It was his place to finish the job, not hers. Oh, let the she-spider examine the pod... it means little. I am far too exhausted to be bothered with it... besides, there are other concerns. "Permission to retire to quarters, Megatron?" Tarantulus asked. Impatiently, Megatron motioned the spider dismissively from the room.

Tarantulus hesitated a moment, studying his teammates. While Megatron and Blackarachnia continued to bend over the pod and Scorponok slept, slumped against the wall, Inferno and the other Predacons hovered on the edges of shadows. Their eyes were full of questions as they strained to get a better look at the pod, but not one dared move closer for fear of their leader. Fools! Don't they know fear is the rot of the soul? He shook his head. To the Inferno with them all-- let them drool over their new toy. I have more important businesses than these.

"I thought you were leaving, Chuckles," Blackarachnia said suddenly, breaking the silence as she cast him a wry smile over her shoulder.

He retuned the smile, but not the insult. "Indeed." With a simple thought his body folded and flowed down into the smooth lines of his beast form, and he slipped from the room without a sound.

Gah, the idiot,Blackarachnia thought to herself in disgust as she turned back to the pod. The sound of Megatron drumming his fingers on the metal table with growing impatience reached her suddenly, and she glanced up. "There is already a beast form stored in the pod's memory, surprisingly," she reported. "Switching the programming chip from Maximal to Predacon won't be a problem. The problem is this." She tapped the locking device with one claw.

"Surely we can get it off without bothering with codes," Terrorsaur sneered, snaking forward to fiddle with the device. As he reached to touch it he heard a menacing growl, and looked over to see his commander's face inches from his own.

"Touch it, and your head becomes the latest addition to my trophy case," Megatron said pleasantly. Swallowing, Terrorsaur quickly moved back a safe distance from the pod. Touchy, touchy, he thought darkly. Since when does Megatron care so much about a stupid stasis pod anyway?

Blackarachnia leaned against the table, folding her arms. "We need the codes," she said simply. "This thing is barely viable as it is, and I can pretty much guarantee that if we try to break into it without codes, it's as good as dead."

"Then our mission becomes clear," Megatron said, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. "The Maximals have the secret to give this protoform life, and we shall... entice it from them. Yes."

"What are your commands, Royalty?" Inferno asked eagerly, stepping into the light.

"Yes, 'Royalty,'" a voice suddenly snickered from behind. "What ARE your orders?"

It was Hyaster. The Predacon sat arrogantly in the doorway, his black eyes glittering. He was in beast form, as usual-- you would almost think he didn't even have a robot mode, he tromped around on all fours so much-- a slobbering, ravenous hyena. And somehow, it fit him perfectly.

Megatron made an involuntary face of disgust and wished, not for the first time, that they had not wasted such precious hours and supplies on saving the mutt's life weeks earlier. He was hardly worth it.

Hyaster walked into the room with his muzzle snuffling along the floor, ignoring the glares of distaste his teammates directed his way. "What is that awful smell in here?" he demanded, sniffing at the air. Suddenly he grinned. "Waspinator," he said with an accusing smirk.

The wasp jumped. "Waspinator not smell!" he protested. "Giggle-bot smelling own stink!"

As Hyaster and Waspinator began trading insults, Megatron stepped to his throne and slouched down, pressing his hands together thoughtfully. His mind began to drift, mulling over the last few cycles. Where was the solution? How could he and his team butt heads with the Maximals for so long, never quite able to get the upper hand and never quite falling, no one advancing, no changes made, and suddenly have what might very well be the key to defeating his opponents delivered to him out of the blue? Pure luck, of course.

He crossed his arms, vaguely aware of the continuing arguments around him. Such stupid fighters... idiots, who wouldn't know victory if it jumped up and sank its teeth into their behinds. All of his Predacons knew how to win, of course, but he alone knew how to make use of those victories. Slowly a plan began forming in his mind; nothing tangible at first, just thoughts and possibilities mixing together in a hazy world of reds and golds. But details would emerge, as they always did, and then he would have the key. Victory... in his grasp.

Blackarachnia glanced over at her leader and saw him with eyes half-closed, practically meditating. Deep in his schemes again, she sighed. "Hyaster," she said aloud. "I believe Megatron called you to the command room half a cycle ago?"

Hyaster looked towards her, a faint and rather foolish grin on his face. "And here I am."

"Very impressive."

"I'm just an impressive-kinda guy," he replied. "Now, what's this I hear about commands? Hope it involves getting out of this crypt."

Megatron opened his eyes suddenly, and the other Predacons could see the ideas and plans that were rapidly forming behind his blood-red optics. "Blackarachnia, is the stasis pod in danger of further deterioration?"

"No," she replied. "It is stable. For now."

"For how long?"

"Six megacycles... maybe eight. We'll need to act soon."

"Then listen carefully, all of you. I have a plan... and later we shall celebrate its success with the birth of our newest member."

As the other Predacons moved in closer to their leader, Blackarachnia remained by the stasis pod. Leaning over it, she peered into one of the cracks and thought she could almost make out the blue-gray shimmers of the protoform inside. What was so special about it that Megatron was willing to go to all lengths to recover it? Why did he protect it as though it were gold?

... and why did it alarm her so?

As soon as Cheetor made the jump from the dusty ground onto the smooth rock shelf that jutted out from the cliffside, he relented to his body's overwhelming need to uncoil and relax. Tired... so tired. The outcropping of rock was just wide enough to accommodate his slender frame and he yawned, letting his worn paws hang over the edge. What a morning-- the skies were sullen, and the whole world looked ugly when the skies were gray. On top of the depressing atmosphere, his trek to find Tigatron had been unsuccessful-- but that was no surprise. After all, when Tigatron did not want to be found he was not found, and that was that. Well, he had gone after Airazor, no doubt. And maybe that was an affair that Cheetor had no business being involved in anyway.

Reclining against the cool rockside, Cheetor glanced over at the hull of the Axalon, looming up nearby. He supposed he should at least go in, make a report, but he was just too tired. Better to lay here, rest. They would come looking for him soon enough.

The crippled transport's dark copper hues blended in perfectly with the landscape. Like it was built to crash here, Cheetor thought wryly. He turned his head so that he wouldn't have to look at it, sighing softly. He had come to dislike the ship lately, with its dim corridors, cold steel surfaces, cramped rooms and tiny windows. So many times he would feel the warm embrace of claustrophobia wrap its fingers around his body, to caress him gently, and then to squeeze-- and then the darkness intensified, the walls were falling in, the air thinned. He would feel an overwhelming urge to strike out, to escape, as if he were a protoform sealed inside the coffin of a stasis pod.

He shuddered. Primus, how horrible that must be. To be in a pod, unable to move, just locked in darkness, blackness, you can't see, you can't think, you can't breathe... but protoforms were unconscious while in stasis, weren't they? And what in the world was he doing laying outside the Axalon thinking about protoforms, anyway?

Well, he knew the reason to that one snappily enough-- there had been a regular downpour of pods lately, and with each successive drop he felt more and more uneasy. Cheetor's mind began to drift, wandering away as his eyes slipped shut against the lonesome whistle of the breeze. The pods had come with a vengeance a month ago-- first Singspiel, who appeared as wilderness-happy as Tigatron, and then Tungsten, whom Cheetor knew little about. Both down in Maximal territory, both healthy. Two more warriors, two more chances for victory.

No, the unease had probably begun more recently, with the descent of the third pod. As the sun had risen the pod crashed, coming down so near to the Predacon base it was all but lost to their team. The others seemed convinced that the protoform had not survived its violent entrance into the world, but with the Predacons, who knew? Anything could happen on this planet...

Airazor, with her nightmares, seemed to have the same misgivings as Cheetor himself. What about the fourth and latest arrival, from the night before? The amazing vanishing stasis pod, it had come down and disappeared. Of course, the Predacons had no doubt obtained that pod as well. Why not? The Maximals weren't lucky enough for anything else to have happened. Another soldier delivered to the enemy.

Was that what was really bothering him? He couldn't pin it down with much accuracy. As lost as Airazor, really. She woke up shrieking night after night and though she remained closemouthed, could the stasis pods be the reason? Could they be the reason he lay awake night after night, staring into the blackness, his breath catching in his throat, wondering if the ceiling was really getting closer? He was at a loss to explain how it could be so... and yet it was.

It was...

Somebody was poking him.

Cheetor jerked, then sat up. A bolt of hot pain flashed through his cramping shoulders and he winced, turning. Rattrap stood in robot mode, frowning at him.

For a moment Cheetor blinked, slowly coming back to reality. Rattrap...

"Kid, whataya doin' sleepin' out here?" he demanded. "This ain't the place for forty winks! Get ya lazy hide inside the base."

Cheetor yawned deeply as the fire in his muscles subsided. "I couldn't find Tigatron," he said slowly.

"Eh, the boss-monkey caught him on the comlinks. Ol' Stripes sounded mighty pissed." Rattrap leaned against the shelf and frowned. "That's becomin' a regular epidemic around here." He glanced back at Cheetor, who still had the fog of sleep clouding his eyes. Sheesh, the kid was too tired to even make it inside? Rattrap frowned. Or perhaps there was something else there, too? "Somethin' botherin' ya, kid? Not that I care, mind ya--"

"No, no, I'm fine," Cheetor said quickly-- a little too quickly, but Rattrap figured it was best to let the matter drop. "Why did Optimus call Tigatron?"

"He's supposed to meet me and Chopperface for patrol." Rattrap converted to his beast form and shot a nasty look towards the Axalon. "That is, if Dinobutt can ever find his way out of the base."

"Patrolling? Where?"

Rattrap waved one of his paws in the air. "Eh, y'know... southern grasslands, coastlines... nowhere good."

Cheetor's ears lifted at the words. "Haven't scans been turning up Preds in that area lately?"

"Don't remind me. That's all I need, to go head-to-head with a couple 'a uglies today."

"Can I come?"

Rattrap frowned, glancing over at the cat with narrowed eyes. "You want to go? Ain't this supposed to be your day off?"

"Believe me, I'd rather go on a hundred patrols than have to hang around the base all day."

"Heh, speak for y'self. If you want to stand in for me that's fine; I'll just change my plans to include major catchin' up on shuteye today."

A dark snarl caught the attention of both Maximals, and they turned. Dinobot stalked towards them, his face twisted in its customary sneer of disgust. "All you ever do is sleep regardless, vermin. A fine excuse for a Maximal you are."

"Oh, like you're one to talk, Mister Ex-Predacon!"

Cheetor frowned and carefully left his perch for the rocky ground. If I don't say something soon, these two will never shut up! "Look, can we just go?"

Dinobot turned to look at Cheetor with an expression of faint surprise, as though he hadn't even realized the young Maximal was there. "You plan to join us, cat?"

"Correction," Rattrap snickered. "He's goin' instead of me."

The velociraptor rolled his eyes. "I don't know which is worse-- the babble of an insufferable rat or the whining of a prepubescent feline..."

"Don't worry, Dinobot," Cheetor snapped. His voice, sharp and loud, filled the terrain with fresh echoes. "I don't feel much like talking anyway."

Glowering, Dinobot seemed about to break off another comment, but then sneered and walked away, lost to view quickly amid the rocks and cliffs. After a moment's pause, Cheetor followed. Rattrap heaved a sigh. Thank Primus I got outta that one-- patrolling with the kid, Dinobutt, and Stripes the way those three have been lately would be like a night with the Three Stooges.

Chuckling to himself, Rattrap skittered towards the Axalon.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 4(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

It was late afternoon when Airazor dove low into the heavily forested terrain, flattening her wings tightly against her body and narrowing her eyes to slits. Tree-dodging, she thought with a sigh. Not a sport for amateurs. Ignoring the branches and leaves which batted against her, she focused on a quiet clearing up ahead and carefully slowed her descent in perfect timing to wrap her talons firmly around a tree branch. Whew-- gotta love these beast instincts.

The clearing was a large one, covered with a soft carpet of grass. She idly watched a herd of deer grazing quietly, enjoying the brief peace of the moment. At this time of day the light took on a special quality that she loved, the same way it looked after a fresh rain. It slanted gently through the canopy of trees, casting patterns of shadow on the forest floor; here in the clearing, the rolling knolls were awash in it. Moments of peace such as these she had to cherish. They came few and far between.

Airazor cleared her throat. "Singspiel!"

Her voice shattering the quiet song of nature, the deer flipped up their white tails in alarm and sprinted off on toothpick legs, losing themselves among the trees so quickly it was easy to believe they had never been there at all. All, that is, except for a solitary buck a short distance away, grazing near the treeline with his back to her. At the sound of her shout he looked around, spat out a mouthful of grass, and yelled with a grin, "Hey, Raze!"

Airazor sailed over near him, transforming to robot mode and sitting down heavily on the grass nearby. Drawing her knees up to her chest and folding her arms on top of them, Airazor put her head down and tried to clear her mind of the shadows and cobwebs which crowded it. Singspiel stood beside her, watching her uncertainly. Finally Airazor sighed and glanced up at the deer, whose face was now only inches from hers. "Sing, what are you doing?"

"I was trying to figure out if you were still on-line," he explained with a shrug, stepping back. "But if you mean in general, I like to think of it as getting back to nature."

Airazor glanced to the south, where the deer had disappeared. "Sorry about scaring off the herd."

"Well, they can be a fun crowd to run with sometimes, but talk about a lack of conversation." Singspiel resumed grazing and Airazor narrowed her eyes, watching him. He was unusual for a Maximal-- for one thing, he didn't have a predatory beast form. The only thing even remotely threatening about the large deer was the set of wicked antlers protruding from his forehead, and they just seemed to get in his way more than anything else. Airazor didn't know a lot about him, but from the few times they had spoken she knew she liked him. He would often ramble on, moving from topic to topic, with his voice soft and mesmerizing. She knew he was a good storyteller. And she knew he would listen.

Now, however, he was quiet. The silence of the meadow was broken only by the sweet sighs of the forest and the twittering of songbirds, who were more tolerant of Airazor's presence when she was in robot mode. Stretching her legs out, Airazor leaned back on the grass and looked over at Singspiel, who nibbled daintily at a patch of clover as he watched her.

"What's on your mind, Raze?"

She waited, listening as even nature seemed to grow quiet, waiting with bated breath for her answer. "I've... ah... been having nightmares lately."

"So?"

Airazor looked up sharply, and Singspiel offered her an innocent shrug. "Look, this is hard for me!"

"Okay okay, sorry. What have these nightmares been about?"

She gave him a hard gaze. "Promise this will stay between us?"

"Scout's honor." He transformed to his robotic mode and sat down near her, the muted silver and deep green tones of his armor gleaming dully as his clear optics pierced her own.

"It's all about something that happened ages ago," Airazor explained slowly, picking at the grass. "Right after the Great War. I had someone that I was very close to."

"Tigatron?"

She smiled faintly. "No, I didn't even meet him until we ended up here. No, this was long before." She paused, took a breath. It's now or never, doll, she told herself. "His name was Lightcrasher."

"Lightcrasher?"

"Yeah. He was one of the technicians in the Gamma branch of the Maximal army on Cybertron; specialized in weaponry and defense systems and the like. He was excellent at his job-- had a lot of inside knowledge. He was a very valued member of his group."

"Your boyfriend?"

Airazor gazed off into the distance, blind to the world around her. She let herself be encased by the memories as Singspiel's voice drifted through. "No... it was never romantic. But he was my best friend-- the best friend I've ever had. We did everything together. I started a sentence, and he finished it. Nobody ever understood me like Lightcrasher. Nobody has since."

Singspiel tipped his head back to look at the sky. "When Zeno was asked what a friend was, he replied, 'Another I'."

"Zeno?"

"Never mind. Go on."

"Well, do you remember the Shalimar incident?"

"Vaguely."

"It was a brief flareup between the Maximals and Predacons on the Shalimar moon, right after the Great War ended. The Predacons stumbled across a weak point in our defenses, and even with the war over, they decided it was just too good to pass up. Thankfully it was capped off quickly. But Lightcrasher ended up with a whole lot more work to do, developing new systems and weapons and the like with the other engineers. He started... growing away from me."

"Too involved in his work?"

"Yeah, definitely. After a while, it was like I didn't even know him anymore. I finally confronted him about it, and I laid it all down-- told him how much our friendship meant to me, how much I missed him... how much I....

"Cared about him?"

She nodded.

"What did he say?"

"He said-- he said that of course he cared about me too, but he didn't know how I could make him choose between his work and me. We just got angrier and angrier with each other..." Airazor lifted her eyes to meet Singspiel's; he was surprised by the desperate expression in them. "We had never fought like that before, ever! And I started to wonder if maybe he didn't care about me, maybe I wasn't important anymore, because how could anything like that ever be friendship--" She paused, catching her breath and trying to keep herself composed, ever aware of Singspiel's eyes on her. "As soon as I thought that, it was just like, everything fell apart. I knew-- even if he had cared once, he had changed and I wasn't important any longer, not compared to his work, and not compared to anything else... my best friend, my-- only friend, and he didn't care..."

Her voice broke. Inside she felt the ugliness of her fears and doubts, pain and sorrow break their restraints and she let it out in one gasping rush-- she began to cry, sobbing and hating herself for doing it in front of him.

Singspiel shifted over close and put an arm around her shoulders, waiting quietly and gazing off into the distance as she cried. When the tears finally tapered off, he looked down at her. "It is sweet to mingle tears with tears; griefs, where they wound in solitude, wound more deeply," Singspiel said gently. Airazor gave him a funny look. "Seneca," he explained.

"You've been reading Bartlett's Familiar Quotations again, haven't you?"

"Maybe."

She rubbed fiercely at her face and Singspiel watched her, acutely aware of the flaring pain hidden behind each of her words. He remained startled by the strength of her emotions. How long has she been keeping this inside? "And so you parted," he said carefully.

She looked down at her hands. "Yes... in fact, I never saw him again after that. It took me so long to get over it all, Sing... and even then I still cared..."

"But you got over it. You picked up and went on."

"I thought I did."

"The nightmares?"

"Yes... all of a sudden everything's back. All these nightmares, they're just like the ones I had after... well, after. It's like it just happened, like it's happening all over again!"

Singspiel stood up as Airazor took slow, deep breaths. The shadows had grown longer. "Beast mode," he said, transforming back into a buck. "You know, Airazor... you're a good storyteller."

Airazor's breath caught in her throat and she looked up. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't believe me?"

"I didn't say that," he replied, dropping his head as he began to sharpen his antlers on a tree. "I just mean you're a good storyteller. I hope you keep a journal or something so you can publish your memoirs someday. I mean, assuming any of us actually lives to make it off this planet and publish."

She sighed, collecting herself. As much as she hated her tears, as much as she hated bearing her soul to someone-- she couldn't deny that it felt pretty damn good to get some of that weight off her shoulders. "A positive thinker, then."

"A realistic thinker, my dear."

"So, what's the verdict?"

"I think you're just having a hard time letting him go, Raze. A relationship like that, it's not hard to imagine."

"But why are the feelings so strong again? Now? It doesn't make sense!"

Singspiel looked over towards her and started to speak, but with the motion his antlers became entangled in a thicket. Casting the bush a look of distaste, he braced his legs and, after a few unsuccessful attempts, managed to rip his horns free. He straightened, bits of leaves and a stick or two dangling from his antlers. "Beast forms," he sighed. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em." Remembering Airazor's question, he looked at her thoughtfully in the dusklight. "Think about it some," he said. "All this was gone, deep inside, and suddenly it gets pushed back to the surface again. All the pain is back. All the regret is back. And that means..." Airazor shook her head in confusion, but suddenly something inside of her lurched.

She was at a loss to explain how it could be so... and yet it was.

It was.

"Lightcrasher is back," she whispered, hardly daring to speak the words.

Singspiel remained silent, but the sad smile he offered her said enough. As the sky faded to lavender with the approaching sunset, crickets began to hum.

His face tense and focused, Hyaster dropped his head low.

As the sun gave up its last tenuous hold on the sky, light was sucked rapidly away and a cool dimness settled around the terrain. As that light disappeared it took with it color, clarity, and a million other things Hyaster wanted, needed. He cursed the sun under his breath and moved closer to the small, fire-colored wildflower blooming in the cracks of the cliffside on which he crouched. How was he supposed to find the memory that color sparked if the sun was gone and he couldn't see?

Disgusted, Hyaster sat back on his haunches. What a crummy place this was... well, no, actually. It was a beautiful planet; of that, he was sure. He just felt the need to be pissed at something. At least he was alone, finally. He hated the arrogant facade he always carried around the other Predacons, but he had no choice. If he was not thoroughly distasteful, they would smell the fear on him. And they would be merciless.

That was one of his memories. He clung to it, repeating the phrase over and over in his mind. Just one of the few clues he had to who he had been before... before this. Before he crashed on this planet. Before the Predacons narrowly managed to save his life. Before he became a member of their alliance.

He supposed he should feel confused. After all, if what Tarantulus had told him was correct... he had been Maximal, and that was where these pop-up memories came from. However, they had reprogrammed him as Predacon, and for that he was grateful. Who wanted to be Maximal, anyway? Goody two-shoes, fighting for "peace"... he spat into the dirt.

And what sort of memory was that, anyway? He didn't even know if that was something he'd said, or something he'd heard... it just clanked around in his mind, back and forth, over and over until he wanted to pound his head into the wall to make it stop. He was Predacon. The Maximals and the south wing and his memories and everything else could go straight to the Inferno; the sooner the better. If his old life was Maximal it wasn't worth remembering anyway.

His eyes were drawn back to the small flower before him. Carefully, he placed his front paws on either side of it.

Once more he paused, straining... he tried to break through the gray fog draped about his mind but it was useless. Only a phrase, a color or two, drifted through. Ghosts of the person he used to be; ghosts of a person that was no more. Ghosts that carried with them an air of fear.

Hyaster's comlink crackled importantly and he hissed as he activated it. "What is it now?" he snapped impatiently.

"This is Megatron," the deep voice on the other end of the communication said. "Are you in position?"

Hyaster glanced over his shoulder. Below him, flush against the cliffside, a dark shape hunched in the darkness. "Yes, I'm directly above the Axalon," he reported.

"The signal damper is functional?"

"Well, I'm still alone out here, so I'm guessing yes."

"Excellent. You know what to do."

Hyaster cut the comlink and looked down beyond the Maximal headquarters. Squinting, he could make out the forms of two small animals approaching the base below. Well, only small from this distance-- the bird alone was probably large enough to lift him clear off the ground. He didn't know her name, but he knew she was Maximal. That was enough. The deer that accompanied her was Maximal, as well. Enemy.

Hyaster inched forward to the very edge of the cliff, trusting the darkness to cloak him from the pair below. Tensing his muscles, he waited.

"Sentinel, stand down!" Her voice reverberated off the cliffside behind him. The shield surrounding the base suddenly glowed bright green in startling contrast to the night, shining as brightly as Hyaster's own eyes. Then it was gone.

Instantly Hyaster uncoiled, leaping from the edge of the cliff. It was only a short fall to the hull of the Axalon, but his eyes opened wide as he fell, the wind ripping through his bristly fur. He reached out with his paws-- damn hull has to be down here somewhere-- and suddenly slammed hard against the unyielding metal with his chest, hoping even as he crashed that no one would hear. His jaws clicked together, narrowly missing his tongue. "Terrorize," he growled. He had only been a hyena for a few days, but he already knew it would be much easier to hang on as a robot than as a klutzy four-footed dog.

Quickly, Hyaster edged left along the side of the base, his feet resting precariously on a line of bolts that couldn't protrude much more than an inch. "Panel 422-J," he muttered, running his hand over the smooth surface. There was nothing to indicate whether he was at the right spot or not but... yes, this was it.

He shook his head clear. Right now he had a mission to accomplish. Nothing stepped in front of that. Working his fingers in underneath the access panel, Hyaster flipped it up expertly, finding the wires and circuit boards inside almost comforting. Aware of the time-- and his foothold-- slipping away, he broke through two of the wires with his bare hands and spliced them rapidly, twisting the tiny cables together. For a moment he paused, marveling. Who would have guessed that it could be that easy to tame such an imposing beast as the Axalon? Just gotta know where to strike.

Hyaster pressed his hands against the hull and pushed off, once again freefalling towards the ground. "Beast mode!" he snapped, and his transformation completed scant seconds before his paws landed safely on the hard-packed dirt. Wasting not a moment, he broke towards the relative safety of the forest nearby. Gonna make it-- whew, what a rush! Leaning against a tree, he activated his comlink. "Mission accomplished, Megatron," he said with a grin as he stared up at the Axalon.

"Good work, Hyaster. Now go! I need you in position."

The hyena paused for a moment longer, staring at the craft which might have been his home. The cards have been dealt, Maximals. Time for this Predacon to finish the game.

Taking a deep breath of night air and with a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth, he disappeared into the blackness.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 5(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

The air was stale and almost antiseptic as the lift carrying the two Maximals rose flush with the command room floor. Singspiel peered into the room cautiously, still unfamiliar with the layout of the ship. At this hour it was quiet. Optimus stood near one of the command stations, watching a readout screen. Rattrap was asleep in a chair, his head propped against one armrest while his legs dangled over the other. Singspiel felt a strong and guilty impulse to turn tail and run. Leave this creaking mammoth of a base in the dust and live in nature, where he felt at home. Forget the Maximals and the Predacons, forget the pressure and responsibility...

Airazor brushed past him, transforming to her robotic mode even as she stepped into the command room. Singspiel followed, his small hooves sliding on the metal floor. "Yeesh, now I remember why I try to avoid this place," he sighed. "Maximize."

"Optimus!" Airazor cried anxiously, moving towards him.

Optimus turned his head a little to acknowledge her, but his eyes never left the screen. "Sentinel isn't responding," he muttered, and pressed a fast sequence of buttons at the station. "I don't like this."

"Have you called Rhinox?" Singspiel asked.

"Optimus--" Airazor tried again.

"In a minute," he replied, giving Airazor an impatient look. "I just called Rhinox... look, Singspiel, wake up Rattrap. I want you and him to go outside the base, and keep your eyes peeled."

Singspiel nodded. "Wakey wakey, Rat-boy!" he yelled over his shoulder. Rattrap gave a startled snore and sat up, blinking. "We've got us some business to attend to."

"Aw, man..." he groaned. "Can't ya see I'm tryin' to sleep here?"

"This is serious, Rattrap. I need you outside the base now. Let me know if you see anything suspicious."

Rattrap, unable to think of a convincing lie quickly enough, reluctantly dragged himself to his feet and moved sluggishly towards the lift. Singspiel turned to follow, and caught Airazor's tense eye. He looked at her questioningly.

"Go," she replied. "I'll be okay."

This time, Optimus did glance up at Airazor, but his attention was distracted by Rhinox, who hurried into the room. "What is it, Optimus?"

"Sentinel. It dropped on voice command to let Airazor and Singspiel in, but it hasn't gone back up."

Rhinox's frown deepened, and as he bent over the computer, Optimus turned to the team's lone female. "Airazor, what did you need?"

Her eyes were bright, almost feverish. "Optimus, we've got to get those pods back!"

"What pods?" he asked blankly.

"The last two that crashed! The two the Predacons got!"

"What are you talking about?"

Airazor pressed one hand against her forehead. "I talked to Singspiel, Optimus. These nightmares-- everything lately-- I know what's causing it! It's Lightcrasher!"

"Who?"

"Lightcrasher, he was-- a very good friend of mine, very long ago. I know that he's in one of those pods, Optimus. I know it; I can feel that he's here."

Optimus couldn't keep the doubt from creeping into his eyes. Of course he was concerned about Airazor, but this made about as much sense as the strange meanderings Cheetor got sometimes. "Airazor, try to be realis--"

"Optimus." She placed her hands on his arms, her optics boring into his. "I KNOW he's here. We have got to save him... we're going to have to storm the Predacon base, and--"

"Airazor, Airazor, calm down! We cannot storm the Predacon base!"

"Why not? They storm ours all the time!" Optimus started to speak, but Airazor stopped him with her expression. "I know it's him; believe me, I do."

Before he could reply, Optimus was startled by the sound of Rhinox slamming his hands, palm-down, against the keypads in frustration. "I don't know what the problem with Sentinel is," he rumbled. "But I'm on it."

"Rhinox," Airazor said, "What do you think?"

"About Sentinel? I don't know."

"About the protoforms," she snapped impatiently.

Optimus frowned. We have a serious problem with this ship... Rhinox has work to do; he doesn't need to be bothered with this. But Rhinox answered, before Optimus could speak. "If that is your friend in one of those pods, don't get too excited. One of the first things Predacons do to stasis pods they recover is reprogram them, and we don't have the knowledge to convert them back to Maximals."

"But there's still a chance," Airazor said firmly. "We haven't seen any new Predacons lately."

"As Rattrap would point out, that's probably because the protoforms didn't survive," Optimus sighed.

Airazor shook her head. "No. I know he survived. I can feel him, now."

The overhead speakers crackled with an incoming comlink transmission. "Optimus, come in!" Rattrap yelped, not sounding the least bit sleepy.

"Go," Optimus replied.

"We've got two uglies closing in on our position fast," he reported. All eyes snapped to the three-dimensional grid display in the center of the room, where the tiny icons representing the pair of Predacons could clearly be seen moving towards the ship.

"Sentinel is still down," Optimus replied. "Try to keep them distracted from base!"

Rattrap acknowledged and Rhinox looked towards his leader, the lights from the computer screen reflecting eerily off his face. "I'm willing to bet we've been sabotaged."

"If the Predacons could do that, why haven't they done it before?"

Rhinox did not answer. "Airazor, I need you with me to work on weapons array, all right?"

Airazor did not respond. She was staring at the grid display, her eyes drawn to the Predacon base. Lightcrasher... how did you ever end up in a stasis pod? What are you doing back in my life?

"Airazor!"

She jumped. "I'm sorry, Optimus."

Optimus' voice was cold and stern. Quite cold, actually; even a little scary. "I know you're worried about your friend, Airazor. But don't forget that first and foremost you are a Maximal. We need you on your toes."

Airazor took a deep breath. Duty to the Maximals comes before duty to friends. That was part of my pledge of allegiance years ago. If being a Maximal means anything, I have to stand by it. "Don't worry, Optimus," she replied, sitting down at one of the stations. "I got this."

Terrorsaur flapped his leathery wings, his face twisted into a scowl as he cruised over the rocky terrain on a direct course towards the Axalon. "This is IDIOTIC!" he screeched, unable to control himself. "The shields are down! We should attack the base and destroy the Maximals while we have the chance!"

Below, Scorponok ducked behind a large rock and Terrorsaur dropped beside him, avoiding the first laser blasts aimed their way from the position of the Maximals. "What is in the pod could be worth missing this chance," Scorponok said flatly, testing the missiles within his pinchers.

"Oh, sure," Terrorsaur snapped, rolling his beady eyes towards the sky. "With our luck, it'll turn out to be another protoform like Inferno-- with the intelligence of a pinball machine!"

Scorponok glared at his comrade for a moment, then smacked him hard with the surface of his claw. Unprepared for the blow, Terrorsaur fell back against the rock, stunned. "What was THAT for?!" he demanded harshly, rubbing his face tenderly and staring at the scorpion.

Scorponok's eyes glittered dully in the starlight. "Obey Megatron," he stated flatly. "Obey your commander."

The large pterodactyl looked at Scorponok for a moment, judging him carefully. Is he stupid? Definitely. Is he nuts? Yeah. Is he dangerous?

Scorponok smiled at nothing in particular.

Terrorsaur cleared his throat nervously.

Standing close to a base support, Singspiel squinted forward, trying to make out the forms of Terrorsaur and Scorponok. He held his weapon at his side, loose in his hand. "I can't even see them anymore. What do you suppose they're doing?"

Rattrap cracked his knuckles. "Who cares? If the shields are down, we need to keep these two clowns away from the base. Let's go!"

A series of red lights flashed on and off steadily on the computer panels. A quiet beep accompanied them. The computer screen displayed Predacon symbols scattered across the grid, like one of the countless video games Rattrap had installed into Axalon's main computer system. Tungsten had the sudden insatiable urge to mop his brow, although he knew he didn't sweat. "Ahh-- Optimus, the computer shows two P- Pr- Predacons in our immediate vi-vicinity!" He continued to stand hunched over the computer station, shoulders rounded, trying in vain to convince himself that nobody was really staring at him. Paranoia, just paranoia. And for God's sake, stop shaking!

"Computer, identify." Booming with authority, Optimus' voice sounded far too large for the command center.

"Subjects Blackarachnia and Inferno identified," the computer replied smoothly.

Optimus turned to the computer closest to him, activating the comlinks. "Rattrap! Singspiel!" he said sharply.

The response came, marred by static. "We got our hands full, boss! Terrorsaur and Scorpo are keeping us busy... but we're pushing them back from the base!"

The Maximal leader disconnected the comlinks and looked towards Tungsten, who seemed to be trying his hardest to disappear into the floor. "Tungsten, you come with me."

The robot spun around, flattening himself against the computer. His optics were wide but he spoke smoothly, as if rehearsed. "I don't know if we should."

Optimus looked closely at him, and shook his head impassively. "If you have problems with something, we'll talk about it later. Now is not the time. According to computers there are Predacons in the area, and we don't have any defenses. You and I are going outside to try and get this knocked. Airazor, you stay up here; monitor our progress and get on the weapons systems as soon as they're up."

As Optimus quickly charged his weapons, he offered Rhinox a cynical smile. The science officer returned it. Optimus didn't have to speak; Rhinox already knew the immensity of his task. Tungsten, however, seemed none too eager to join his leader as he remained frozen by the computer terminal, rubbing his hands. "Tungsten?" Optimus asked carefully. He didn't really know a lot about the newest member of his team... but there were only four of them inside the base and he had to have backup. "Come on. I need your help."

Tungsten took a shaky breath and stepped after his leader automatically, moving as though in a dream. His mind reeled with fear.

Hearing her voice inside his head, Tungsten turned to look back at Airazor for support. She was bent over one of the computers, focusing in hard on the strings of data and flashes of information presented to her. She doesn't have time for you. But you're a warrior now, whether you like it or not. Time to prove it.

Tungsten wished he felt as upbeat about all this as the little voice inside of him.

Rhinox glanced over his shoulder as Optimus and Tungsten moved out of the base, then darted down one of the hallways, jogging towards the central computer core beneath the decks. Surely it had to be a glitch. That in itself was amazing, though; with the ship's many backups a spontaneous failure seemed impossible. Perhaps the Predacons had been behind it... but if they knew how to strike a blow as damaging as taking down Sentinel, why in the world hadn't they used it before?

Lots of questions, no answers,Rhinox told himself. Figure it out later. They're counting on you.

The night was hushed, and Optimus stepped off the lift into the darkness, his weapons humming quietly with energy. Remaining close behind him, Tungsten stumbled off the platform as well, holding his pulse rifle up across his chest defensively. Skies remained overcast, and the lack of a moon or even faint starlight made the dark all the more strangling. The faint scent of sulfur hung in the air, silent testimony to the firefight which had taken place here moments earlier. With a harsh swallow Tungsten activated his infrared vision and relaxed a little as the underside of Axalon and the nearby mountains and scraggly pines were outlined. No monsters with evil eyes. At least, not around here.

Stepping out from underneath the ship, the Maximal leader narrowed his eyes. "There!" he shouted suddenly, and Tungsten caught a sudden startle of movement on his scanners, something large disappearing into the forest. Optimus activated his comlink, scanning the treeline carefully as he did so. "Airazor, we just saw Blackarachnia out here. She's out of the ship's weapons range."

The comlink crackled to life. "Well, the ship is certainly in HER range!" the falcon returned.

"Don't worry, we'll get her. Tungsten, let's go." Weapons at the ready, the pair went after Blackarachnia in the direction she had darted, towards the woods.

It was quarter past midnight, and dark pressed evenly down across the ocean as Tigatron walked slowly along the beach. Occasionally breaths of moonlight stirred weakly through the clouds, but they revealed nothing new to the practiced lookout. The grainy softness of the sand reminded him of the conversation he had had that morning with Airazor, and his stomach rolled at the thought of it. Why couldn't he forget? The idea that she had things she couldn't tell him... experiences he could never touch... a heart that, perhaps, belonged to another... made him absolutely sick.

Slag,he thought to himself darkly. Women.

Of course he was supposed to be on patrol, and that meant watching and looking and listening. They had gotten such a late start on this run through the coastline that they were still plodding along, even this late. Well, they were almost to the cove up ahead, and they could pack it in for the night there. It was actually called the Gold Cove; Airazor had named it that because when the sand...

Airazor.

Tigatron shook his head violently to clear it. Focus on your patrol, Maximal. He let his eyes fall closed for a moment, and concentrated on the gentle lapping waves of the nearby ocean and the location of his teammates. Dinobot trailed behind him; Tigatron knew he was there by the snorts, the loud tramping, and occasional snapping of jaws at who knew what. Cheetor had long since bounded ahead. The little cat was, pure and simple, bouncing energy. To have only half of his enthusiasm... but Cheetor had seemed odd tonight; subdued, which was not like him.

Up until this point Tigatron had more or less ignored the faint droning noise that reached his sensitive ears, but it now grew louder with each passing second and was becoming more and more difficult to block. He lifted his head and stared into the thick blackness. Not really so much a drone anymore as a buzz...

"Waspinator!" Cheetor's voice broke the silence and Tigatron started at how close he sounded.

Overhead, the clouds cracked once more, and the shores filled with a wan, blue-tinted moonlight. Tigatron saw Cheetor standing beside him, his eyes glittering, staring up at the fast-approaching Predacon. But the tiger's own eyes were drawn to something over the cat's shoulder, something large and hairy and cackling madly.

"Maximize!" In an instant Tigatron transformed from animal to robot, bringing his pulse gun up rapidly and squeezing off a series of shots in the direction of the Predacon spider.

A short distance away, a third Predacon stood on a gentle knoll overlooking the beach and shore. He smiled faintly as he watched the Maximals transform and engage, and his own comrades retaliate, beginning a midnight struggle of life and death. It was like watching a slow-motion ballet, with the two sides firing and dodging under the clouds. A ballet with murderous intent. Swan Lake during bird-hunting season.

Hyaster cocked his head as he noticed the largest of the Maximals, a bloodthirsty warrior named Dinobot, suddenly tense, as though in pain. Crackles of white-hot energy flashed across his metallic body, and the croaked order, "Beast mode!" floated to the hyena's curious ears. Rapidly his body reformed into that of a large dinosaur, and he lifted his reptilian head with a jerk, his eyes full of a concern that Hyaster could see even from a distance.

"Looks like lunch is having a problem," he murmured under his breath. Of course, he knew very well that within moments all of the warriors would begin to experience the stabbing effects of stasis lock. But the Predacons knew this would happen. The Maximals did not. "Advantage: Predacons," he grinned.

Heart hammering in his ears and slightly wild with alarm, Dinobot looked towards his two companions and found them both in beast mode as well. Waspinator buzzed threateningly overhead, and Tarantulus crouched nearby, venom dripping from his fangs. "We must be near an energon concentration," Tigatron hissed through clenched teeth.

Behind Tarantulus, Dinobot could see what appeared to be a third Predacon slowly moving towards them, emerald-shaded eyes gleaming through the darkness. "Well..." Dinobot growled, "This just became.... very interesting."

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. VI(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

The battle finally began in Omega quadrant, subsection jade-- right next to the sapphire section of Theta quadrant, where many of the area's powerful waterfalls ran. Singspiel put up the best fight he could, decking Scorponok in the face while Rattrap took shelter behind a stand of pines, trying his best to take Terrorsaur out of commission while protecting himself as well. Singspiel was hopeful of the outcome. After all, these were not two of the Predacons' more esteemed fighters, and Scorponok, for one, seemed quite surprised at the amount of resistance being offered by the Maximal. Singspiel smiled to himself. Nobody ever expects a serious fight from the herbivores, he reasoned.

Then Scorponok caught him fast around the throat with one of his massive claws, strangling his breathing. Stomping forward through the undergrowth with Singspiel dangling from his hand like a netted fish, Scorponok slammed him hard into the tree. The Maximal felt something inside his shoulder crack. Closing his hands around Scorponok's arm for leverage, Singspiel brought up his feet and struck out, trying to free himself. But the Pred was so thick-- in mind, of course, but apparently in body too-- that the blow hardly phased him. Struggling harder, Singspiel clenched a fist and drove it straight into Scorponok's optics, starring the protective covering that shielded them.

Screaming with rage, Scorponok released his hold on Singspiel, and the Maximal wasted no time in stumbling out of his immediate reach, coughing. Gotta remember these guys play rough. He leaned against a tree for support and glanced back. Even through the stars breaking across his vision he could see the hulking shape coming at him again.

Rattrap peeked up from his cover and fired a well-aimed shot that blasted away a good section of Terrorsaur's lower leg. The Predacon's body dipped, looping, and he hissed with pain as he went down to his knees. Rattrap seized the moment to stand and look across at Singspiel, who was just a black shape in the night, desperately fighting hand-to-hand with the monstrosity that was Scorponok. We gotta do something, Rattrap realized. Singspiel hasn't been in the field enough, and I can't handle both of these guys alone.

On a whim, Rattrap holstered his weapon and moved closer to his partner as Terrorsaur struggled to regain his footing. "Hey, Sing! Follow me!" Without waiting for a reply Rattrap dropped to beast mode and disappeared into the underbrush.

Singspiel quickly reverted to his own beast form, catching Scorponok by surprise. The deer took advantage of the moment to violently smash his antlers into the Predacons' already-battered face, then sprint off after his partner.

Optimus slowly eased into the woods near the Axalon. It was dark, but he had experienced darker. He found it disturbing that there was absolutely no sound; no night creatures rustling or crickets tuning up. Just the sounds of twigs and leaves crushing under his feet, and the noise behind him as Tungsten struggled to keep up. Though he tried to stay focused on scanning the blackness for the Predacon he knew lay in wait here somewhere, he couldn't help but wince at the sound of a good-sized branch thwacking against metal. "How're you doing back there?" he asked softly.

Still quite nervous, Tungsten drew in a faint breath to reply. Before he could speak, a powerful forearm pressed down into his throat, cutting him off in mid-gasp. Eyes wild, Tungsten clawed uselessly at the arm as Inferno yanked the Maximal before him as a living shield.

Optimus spun around and aimed his laser cannon at Inferno. The fire ant was lit in red on Optimus' scanners, and the scrawling lines made him appear to be, literally, wrapped in flames. Tungsten looked absolutely terrified as he struggled to free himself. Optimus didn't need infrared to see Inferno's smile.

Tungsten's mind was raw with fear. Captured-- gotta fight-- he couldn't see who was holding him, but he knew it was big. He didn't like the sight of his leader standing before him, weapon leveled, either. But then, as quickly as the night breeze carried away the clouds, all coherent thought left Tungsten's mind as he felt the barrel of a weapon being pressed firmly against the side of his head.

"Drop your weapon, Maximal, or he dies," Inferno said coldly, his face still twisted into a ghoulish metal grin.

"Release him, Inferno," Optimus ordered, feeling anger and tension build inside. Hostage negotiation was not something he had ever expected from the Predacons. Primus, what next?

"My orders come only from the Royalty," Inferno snapped, pressing his weapon harder against Tungsten's head. "Drop your weapon. I will not ask again."

"Shoot him, and you're dead. You'll never hit me in time."

"I die..." Inferno continued to smile, "And the wolf comes with me. A noble sacrifice for the Royalty."

Optimus hesitated, silent. Inferno was not afraid of losing his life, but Optimus could not, would not, allow Tungsten to die in this way. Hating himself as he did it, Optimus dropped his gun to the forest floor and stepped back, his fists clenching in anger.

"Good," Inferno cackled. "What is the code for the locking devices on stasis pods?"

Tungsten could hear his commander gasp, and his own eyes widened involuntarily as he realized the implications. He might be the worst warrior on the planet-- on a place like this, probably not an exaggeration-- but he was a scientist, a damn fine one, in fact, and he understood what a locking device on a stasis pod meant. Especially if said stasis pod was in the hands of the Predacons.

Deep trouble.

If he were looking at the situation from any other point of view, he most certainly would be against Optimus giving out this codes for the pod. Better to let the protoform die than fall into Predacon control. But, seeing as how he currently had a lethal weapon pointed at his head and a Predacon with an itchy trigger finger holding it, his opinion was a bit different. "Optimus--" His voice stopped short as Inferno increased the pressure on his throat.

"Don't worry, Tungsten," Optimus replied reassuringly. "I'm not saying a word."

Through the hazy glow of fear and bright panic in his mind, Tungsten heard Optimus' words and his stomach flipped.

Inferno took a menacing step forward. "Now," he intoned flatly. "Or you will watch him die screaming."

Optimus hesitated-- his mind fought. Don't tell Inferno! Let him shoot Tungsten; that's what CR chambers are for. The Predacons canNOT have such information!

Tungsten whimpered softly in the darkness, and Optimus' heart lurched. I've got to protect him. He's one of my own; nothing is more important than that.

"Fine," the Maximal leader snapped. "Access code glass-two-six-alpha, backslash-eighteen-zero-one, tango-alpha-seventy-three-niner. Now release him!"

Inferno nodded and removed his weapon from Tungsten's head. In the time it took Optimus to finally stop holding his breath, Inferno shoved the Maximal away from him. Tungsten stumbled, hands flying instinctively to his raw throat. As he fell back, Inferno lifted his weapon smoothly and fired.

Tungsten felt shivers of pain drive deeply into his stomach and he dropped to the ground, curling up into a fetal position. Sharp bladed fingers seemed to caress him as he gasped soundlessly for breath. No more... please, no more...

Inferno was able to dive for cover in the second it took Optimus to flip up his shoulder cannons and completely obliterate the spot where the Predacon had been standing. Inferno then rose up suddenly, his flamethrower at the ready. He gave it a threatening wiggle, then looked up at the canopy of tree branches overhead. Hissing, Optimus smothered the urge to fire. Primus, first Tungsten and now the forest. How many things was Inferno going to take hostage?

"You are no match for me, Maximal," Inferno chuckled darkly, stepping forth. Behind him, Optimus heard a faint groan as Tungsten remained on the ground, writhing in pain. Pain that Optimus had been utterly helpless to save him from. Pain that he did not deserve.

Rage struck Optimus with all the suddenness of shattering glass, and his red optics narrowed to furious slits. "Try me."

Breathless, Singspiel broke through the forest, following Rattrap's path. Trees, trees, and endless trees lay behind him, but this-- he had never seen it before. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Shielded by forest on both sides, the clear-cut river flowed at rapid pace before him. A dull roar echoed to his right where the water dropped off into what was surely a beautiful waterfall. Delicate wildflowers grew along both banks, and erosion had exposed the mighty roots of several of the powerful trees. A brief thought occurred and Singspiel frowned, offering a quick prayer that whatever battle they were about to engage in would not scar this beautiful scene too badly.

"C'mon, hurry!" Rattrap yelled. Soaking wet, he stood on the other side of the river, gesturing. "An' be careful! Currents are fast here."

As Singspiel plunged into the river, Rattrap quickly maximized and scanned the opposite shore. No Preds... at least, not yet. Rest assured they were coming.

Singspiel emerged from the water and quickly trotted to Rattrap's position, converting to his robot mode as well as the pair found shelter in the treeline. "If we can expose some of their circuitry and get them in the water, they may short out," Rattrap said, quickly explaining the plan that had formed in his mind out of sheer desperation.

"Yeah... some of their circuitry for a change, and not ours," Singspiel muttered, examining a wound on his arm. He glanced up at Rattrap carefully. "So this is the real stuff?"

"You got it," the Maximal replied, shaking the water off one of his weapons. "But I hate to think that this, of all places, could be where it ends." He sighed, shaking his head at the thought. "That it could ever end."

"I know," Singspiel said quietly. "But we'll make it."

"Heh, that's what they all say," Rattrap chuckled. "'Cept for me."

"Aw, c'mon! The good guys never die."

"Wish I could believe that one."

Something crashed through the underbrush on the other side of the river, and the two Maximals immediately put up their weapons, eyes narrowing and focusing on the threat. Scorponok trudged out from the trees, and Rattrap grinned when he saw the shattered visor. Maybe Singspiel was tougher than he had guessed.

A screech from above; Terrorsaur was swooping in. As the Pred transformed to robot mode, Singspiel closed one eye, squinted along the length of his weapon, and fired a well-aimed shot. For a moment he cursed himself-- the brightness of the energy blast against the night was a clear giveaway to their position-- but the shot was true, striking Terrorsaur in the back. His jets sparked and sputtered, and with a squeal of rage the Predacon plunged headfirst into the river below.

Go over the falls, go over the falls,Rattrap intoned silently.

The Predacon surfaced, thrashing about angrily as he fought to reach the shore. Scorponok stepped down to the edge of the river, hanging onto a tree with one hand for balance as he extended the other to his teammate. Terrorsaur spat and struggled out of the water on his own. "What are you WAITING for?" the pterodactyl shrieked at his teammate. "Get out there and fight!"

Terrorsaur smacked Scorponok, and the electric charge from his open circuits raced through the scorpion's body. Yelping, the Predacon jumped into action, firing wildly at the position of the Maximals.

Singspiel and Rattrap ducked immediately, watching as the missile blasts exploded in the trees and dirt around them. Branches crashed to the ground and explosions of dirt covered them as the Predacon fire lit the forest, bright as day. "Well, that sort of worked," Singspiel shrugged, as Rattrap groaned and wracked his brains for a plan B.

As Inferno and Optimus clashed in hand to hand combat, Blackarachnia watched from the shadows and smiled to herself. What an incredibly pleasant way to spend an evening... a violent struggle between forces to her right, and the moans of an injured Maximal providing a lovely serenade to her left.

Silently making her way around the conflict, Blackarachnia reached the edge of the forest and looked up at the Axalon, wrapping her arm around a pine and leaning against it thoughtfully. She supposed she didn't really NEED to sneak inside the base now... Inferno had the codes; plan A was successful. Raiding the files was plan B, but what an opportunity! Sentinel down, only minimal forces inside. What the heck?

Silently, Blackarachnia pulled herself away from the tree-- crap, forgot these things are covered in sap-- and accessed a low service panel, carefully letting herself inside. After all, who was guarding the place? That lug Rhinox was probably trying to repair the shields, and that just left the stupid chick, Airazor. And what kind of a fighter was SHE?

Cheetor heard the laughter from the darkness, but he couldn't pin it down. He stood in beast mode on the shore, his back to the ocean, scanning the terrain. Who in the heck--

Suddenly a figure raced past him, snapping with steel jaws at his front legs and knocking Cheetor off his feet. Relieved that he was uninjured-- for the moment-- Cheetor struggled back up and looked about, trying to pin down the Pred's location before he could attack again. Guess I was right-- one of the pods survived after all.

Nearby, the buzzing laughter of Waspinator could be heard; Cheetor chanced a glance back and saw him hovering just out of reach of Dinobot's jaws. "Come down here and fight, coward!" The raptor screamed in frustration. Beyond him, Tigatron appeared to be having a difficult time avoiding Tarantulus' snapping bites and the venomous effects they promised.

Something smashed into his shoulder, and Cheetor dropped to the sand once more. Stunned-- gotta WATCH-- he looked up and saw a spotted hyena standing over him, an insane grin on his face. "Hello, lunch," he chuckled.

Cheetor glared and kicked at Hyaster with his hind legs, knocking the Predacon off-balance and allowing the cat time to scramble upright. The hyena struck out like a snake, snapping his jaws, and Cheetor sprang back in alarm.

Nearby, Tigatron caught Dinobot's attention. "I've got an idea!" he called. "Switch off!" Even in the darkness Tigatron saw Dinobot grin, and the dinosaur dropped his head and raced towards the suddenly frightened Tarantulus. Turning his attentions to Waspinator, Tigatron galloped forward and sprang into the air, snagging the insect and dragging him down to the sand.

Cheetor wished ruefully that he had someone he could switch fights with as well. Hyaster was now making a game of rushing at Cheetor, then diving away before Cheetor's counterattack of swipes and snaps could do any damage. The Maximal's night vision was surprisingly poor, and he had no idea where the Predacon would strike next. Quickly he fought down the urgency to transform. While using his infrared to blow the hyena into the next quadrant would be nice, he would most certainly end up in stasis lock before he could even draw his weapon.

"A beautiful night, isn't it?" the hyena chuckled from the darkness. "A lovely night to die, too... eh, lunch?"

I've got to try practicing fights in beast mode more,Cheetor thought as his paws began to sink down in the wet sand and the ocean lap at his ankles.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 7(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

The jarring wail of a new alarm startled Airazor and she leapt to her feet in the command room, pressing her hands against the computer. Tungsten's power levels were already very low, and she couldn't believe how fast the energon locking chips of Dinobot, Tigatron, and Cheetor had been saturated. She hated this, she hated everything about it-- her teammates were struggling, Lightcrasher was out there somewhere, and here she sat, in the base, waiting for the automatic defenses to come online.

She sneered and smacked the computer in frustration. "Rhinox," she called into the comlinks, "We've got to--"

Airazor stopped short as, in the reflections of the screen before her, she saw a svelte shape moving in the shadows. "Got to what, Maximal?" Blackarachnia laughed as she moved forward, weapon at the ready. "Help your friends? Get the shields up? It doesn't matter."

Airazor remained motionless at the computer as Blackarachnia spoke. Spider thinks she can just waltz in here and have everything her way? she thought darkly. Not quite, sister. Slowly, imperceptibly, Airazor began to move her hand across the the control panels. "This ship is mine," the spider continued, "And you, birdy, are about to be scrapped."

The falcon turned her head, looking at the smug Predacon out of the corner of her eye. "What do YOU want?" she demanded aloud, while inside a very different phrase echoed through her mind-- keep talking, keep talking...

"Well, Inferno already wormed the codes we needed out of your hapless leader..."

"So I don't really need anything. But I figured, hey, I'm in the neighborhood... what the heck."

Airazor's thoughts were interrupted by the uncomfortable feeling of a weapon being pressed against the back of her neck. Fear threatened to well up, but was quickly squashed by growing anger. Who the hell does she think she is? My friends are in trouble and I'm not going to let her screw this up! "Aren't you forgetting something, spider?" Airazor hissed.

Blackarachnia snorted. "No."

"Oh yes you are," Airazor chuckled, turning her eyes down as her finger brushed the corridor weapons override button. Rhinox, I hope you're not in there, she thought fleetingly, and gently depressed the button.

The staccato sound of weapons fire ricocheting off the hallway walls caused Blackarachnia to jump and turn; Airazor took the opportunity to slam her elbow back, catching the spider square in the stomach. Barely thinking but moving on instinct and oceans of anger, Airazor spun as the spider's weapon went off. She did not feel the blast as it grazed her side.

Blackarachnia sneered and stepped back into one of her karate poses, ready to inflict her brand of damage. This shouldn't be too hard, the Predacon thought smugly. But Airazor was not in the mode. Seething, she threw up one arm to block the spider's assault and drove her other fist into the Blackarachnia's stomach. As the Predacon doubled over, Airazor leaned close. "You're forgetting that you're on my home turf," the falcon snapped, then caught her under the chin with her knee.

The blow was hard enough to knock Blackarachnia back several feet. She lay sprawled on her back, optics blacking out as an expression of amazement remained frozen on her face. Airazor stepped over to her and sighed. She couldn't even feel good about having trashed Blackarachnia; too many other worried clamored inside her.

Grimly, Airazor kept one of her wrist-missiles trained on the spider as she activated her comlink. "Rhinox, come in!" she called. "You okay, big guy?"

"Yeah-- the shields are almost back up."

"Forget the shields! They don't want the ship!" Her eyes turned to the inert form of Blackarachnia. "Get up here, now!"

"You will burn, Maximal!" Inferno chuckled. Optimus grimaced at the words as he fought with the huge fire ant, struggling to get his hands around its throat. Can't give him the chance for that. Keep him from reaching his guns... keep him on the ground.

Nearby, out of battle range, Tungsten watched the clash through eyes bright with pain. It seemed only fitting that the fire of hell scorching his body should be caused by Inferno... he reached towards the wound, trying to see just how bad it really was, but gritted his teeth and gave up. Too much pain... can't do it...

He could hear the struggle between his leader and the Predacon beginning to move away. A particularly meaty thud sounded, but he did not turn to see who had been struck. It didn't matter... he felt consciousness slipping away, and through the haze of frustration and fear in his mind, words...

Primus, he had been ready to beg, hadn't he? Inferno caught him around the throat, and he had been ready to beg Optimus to give Inferno whatever he wanted to know. He knew what a locked stasis pod meant, and he had been willing to throw that to the Predacons. Hell, he would have thrown ten of the pods, plus the Axalon with Dinobot included, just to save his own hide.

And on that single, horrible thought, Tungsten slipped thankfully into unconsciousness.

Inferno was finding Optimus to be a worthy opponent, and he relished the challenge. They fought hand-to-hand for what seemed like ages, neither able to quite get the advantage. The Predacon was enjoying himself until he remembered his mission. Retrieve the codes. Bring them back safely to the queen. Time, then, to end the fun.

For the Royalty,Inferno thought joyously, and smashed his fist into Optimus' face.

The Maximal leader nearly collapsed but grabbed hold of a tree branch to prevent himself from falling completely. Swaying drunkenly, he looked up and saw the dark figure towering over him. The moon slipped out from behind the veil of clouds and washed the forest in eerie blue light. The trees were sparse here; Optimus could catch glimpses of the Axalon looming up behind Inferno. The ant favored Optimus with a frightful and merciless grin as he reached back over his shoulder for the flamethrower.

The Maximal commander struggled to clear his head and stand. Can't let him do this... And yet somehow he could not launch himself at Inferno, he could not retaliate with his own swords and blasters. All he could do was stare in abject horror at the Predacon. Airazor, PLEASE...

Without warning, Inferno's body jerked forward and he froze, one arm still reaching back behind him, that grin still spread wildly across his face. Optimus stumbled back, away from him, as smoke began wafting up from the Predacon's back. My God, did he set himself on fire?

Inferno's knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground, face-first into the dirt. Stunned, Optimus stared down at him and at the large, gaping hole had been torn in the center of the Predacon's back. Inferno's arm remained poised up over his shoulder, looking as though he was struggling to grope at the wound. Lifting his head, Optimus saw one of the Axalon's outer defense guns slowly rotating away, tendrils of smoke curling from its barrel.

His comlink belched, then relayed a voice. "I know that was a cheap shot, Optimus, but given the circumstances," Rhinox rumbled over the communicators.

Optimus couldn't help but smile as he willed his pounding heart to slow down. "Don't worry, Rhinox; all's fair in love and war."

He turned quickly and made his way back through the forest, illuminated by moonlight. He found his fallen comrade lying sprawled at the foot of a pine, like a scarecrow that had tipped over in a high wind. The wound in his stomach was gruesome, but not life-threatening. "Tungsten's hurt; I'm bringing him in now. Did you get the shields up?

"Not yet; I'm manning the front desk here while Airazor goes to help Dinobot and the cats. She just took off."

Gathering Tungsten in his arms, Optimus stepped back out of the forest and peered into the sky. He thought that he could make out the form of a falcon soaring off into the south, but... what in the world was that hanging from her claws?

Singspiel squeezed off a last volley of shots, then sank back down behind the protective trees and undergrowth, resting his back against one of the pines as he checked his weapon. Scorponok is currently playing Rambo and trying to take on the both of us at once; Rattrap's doing a pretty good job of holding him off so far. Singspiel risked another peek back at the battleground. Terrorsaur is too busy sparking and twitching to do much fighting.

"Hey, Sing!" Rattrap yelled from his his cover several feet away. "Get on the offense! We've got a Pred headed this way, twelve o'clock!"

Singspiel turned in surprise and saw Scorponok charging across the river, holding his weapons high overhead to protect them from the water. As Rattrap grinned and let loose with another round, Singspiel narrowed his eyes. This is getting us nowhere-- Scorpo will be on top of us soon. He tapped his teeth together thoughtfully, then smiled as a plan-- not a very clever one, granted-- formed in his mind. Well, it's that or nothing. "RT, I'm still not as familiar with these guys as I should be-- Scorpo can't fly, can he?"

"Heck no," Rattrap snorted as he fired at Terrorsaur in the darkness, aiming at the electric sparks. "That tub o' lard? Please."

"Good," Sing replied. "Beast mode."

Rattrap did a double-take. "Sing?" he called, sounding a little frightened. "What-- what are you doing?"

"Just back me up, partner," he replied, standing.

"You're gonna get vaped!"

"That's why I need you to back me up!"

Scorponok was as confused as Rattrap when Singspiel burst from the undergrowth, charging forward with his head low. A quote flashed suddenly, unbidden, across the buck's mind-- fortune favors the brave. He could only hope fortune was watching now as he smashed his antlers into Scorponok's chest, not piercing the armor but forcing the Predacon to stumble perilously close to the waterfall.

Grunting fearfully, Scorponok flailed and reached out, searching for something to grab onto. His claws snagged in Singspiel's antlers and he grabbed tight hold of them. "Push me over and I take you with me, deer," he growled. "Your head will make a nice trophy."

Alarmed, Singspiel shook his head roughly but was unable to dislodge Scorponok as the Predacon tipped closer and closer to the water. Singspiel soon found himself bracing his legs just to keep himself on level ground as one of the claws fell away-- thank goodness, he's slipping! But then the deadly clicking reached his ears, the sound of a missile preparing to launch.

He's going to kill me,Singspiel realized. So then, this is how it ends. Crap! Damn these beast forms!

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden weight slamming down on his back; the small figure's arm quickly grabbed his neck to stay balanced. Singspiel lifted his eyes and saw Rattrap leaning forward over his antlers, bringing up his weapon in the darkness in one smooth motion. The flash from Rattrap's blast illuminated Scorponok's face for a millisecond, right before the concussion blew it to pieces. Singspiel was aware somewhere in his mind that it was not a picture that would be easy to forget.

Scorponok's grip relaxed, and he fell silently as Singspiel scrambled back from the edge. Oh, I love these beast forms, he thought gratefully as Rattrap jumped to the ground. "Do-- do you think he's dead?" Singspiel asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Nah, we ain't that lucky."

"Hey, and... thanks."

Rattrap smiled, but before he could reply their attention was diverted by the heavy sparking on the other side of the river. "I've followed orders long enough!" Terrorsaur screeched. "I'm not stupid enough to go up against the both of you alone!"

"Smart move, leatherbutt," Rattrap grinned. The moonlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the trees, river, waterfall and endless valleys below.

Terrorsaur converted to beast mode and instantly was lost in the night. "I've done what I needed to do! I've kept you busy; the mission should be successful," he jeered, then took to the sky, soaring down in search of Scorponok.

In the faint light, the two Maximals looked over at each other. "What do ya suppose he meant by THAT?" Rattrap wondered aloud.

Singspiel shook his head. "I don't know... but we'd better get back to base. Hop on!"

Pumping her wings powerfully to stay airborne, Airazor struggled to increase her speed. Tough to break any airspeed records when I'm carrying something as heavy as I am, though, she reasoned, and glanced down to check on her passenger. Her talons dug into Blackarachnia's shoulders; the spider appeared to still be unconscious. Hey, that must have been a pretty good hit. "Just too sweet," Airazor murmured with a smile, but then turned her mind back to business.

Her job at the Axalon was complete. Rhinox was covering the base, and she knew what the Preds were really after. Most importantly, Lightcrasher was safe! She knew she couldn't take the Predacon base alone, but she had a different scheme in mind. Scanners showed that the Maximal patrol down on the southern coastline was being attacked by three Predacons, among them Tarantulus. Blackarachnia was already her prisoner but if she could nab the male spider as well, there would be no one to reprogram the pod. It was all about buying time, of course... but it just might be enough to save Lightcrasher's life.

In the distance Airazor could hear the sounds of battle over the gentle crashing of waves, and she headed in that direction. As she neared the sight, she gasped as her feet began to sting, then burn. Glancing down she saw Blackarachnia beginning to suffer the effects of energon overload. Oh, perfect! Gotta get rid of her somewhere...

Airazor folded her wings in close and swooped down low over the impromptu battlefield up ahead. The moonlight helped illuminate the scene, and she saw to her amusement that the mighty Predacons-- and, to be fair, the Maximals too-- had been reduced to fighting in their beast forms. Well, makes for a lively evening, she reasoned to herself. It appeared that among them, Dinobot, perhaps, needed the most help. He was having a difficult time avoiding Tarantulus' lightning-fast bites.

Struggling to keep the grin off her face, Airazor cut sharply through the air towards the Predacon's position. "One spider by air mail!" she called, and released her deathgrip on Blackarachnia. The female Predacon fell in a heap squarely on top of Tarantulus, catching him more than a little off guard.

"Ugh... what hit me..." Tarantulus muttered, dazed.

Dinobot grinned as he looked up to Airazor. "I am sure there is a perfect pun which could be said here," he mused, and she smiled. True, she and Dinobot had never been the best of friends, but it was nice that they could occasionally share a moment of camaraderie.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 7c(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

"Keep an eye on those two for me, Dinobot," Airazor requested, then drifted over closer to Tigatron. The tiger lay crouched on the ground, working on something pinned underneath his front paws. "You okay?"

Tigatron turned and spat out a piece of wing. "Airazor," he said with a note of relief in his voice. "I haven't seen Cheetor in--"

Without warning the creature Tigatron held erupted beneath him; both Airazor and Tigatron moved back in alarm as Waspinator transformed. "Waspinator DEZZTROY Tigerbot!" he shrieked, flying straight up into the air and firing crazily down at the shore.

Tigatron moved back a step, surprised by the display of temper. I can't face him in beast mode-- but I'll have to make this quick. "Maximize," he snapped, and removed his own weapon, firing several shots over Waspinator's head. The wasp zoomed back instinctively, and Tigatron grinned. "Perfect," he muttered, and with a quick volley of shots was able to strike one of Waspinator's jets that kept him airborne in robot mode.

Spiraling down towards the water in a crazy tilt, the Predacon continued to buzz angrily. "Maximal DIE!" he shrieked, but his threat held considerably less menace... especially when he noticed the ocean rushing up to meet him.

Chuckling to herself, Airazor began to move forward to help subdue the Predacon. She heard someone else laughing, laughter that matched her own... Lightcrasher's laughter.

A dream, I'm dreaming,she thought immediately. But the sea breeze against her feathers was real, and the world was real, and...

"Lightcrasher!" Airazor screamed aloud, turning and flying towards the sand. Below, Cheetor was sitting on his haunches in the wet sand, looking exhausted. The waves steadily washed in around him, and carried away the mech fluid and blood which leaked slowly from the bite marks covering his legs. Something had been gnawing on him, although who or what she had no idea... "Lightcrasher?" she called again.

Below, Hyaster pricked an ear and glanced up as Airazor transformed in the air in front of him, her eyes full of caution and a faint hope. "Another Maximal," the hyena sighed with a chuckle. "You guys just can't get enough, can you?"

Airazor dropped heavily to the sand. That's him. Great Primus and God Almighty, it's him... I would know that voice anywhere. But they've already gotten to him somehow; he's a Pred... "Do you remember me, Lightcrasher?"

"Why do you keep calling me Lightcrasher?" he asked, shaking his head. "The name's Hyaster." He looked at her and his laughter was quick, with no softness hidden inside. "You must have me mistaken for some other fine fellow, babe."

Babe?"You don't remember... anything, do you?" she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. "You remember something you think I would care about?"

Airazor gazed at him. Same voice... same eyes. God, how I used to drown in those eyes. "I remember... the smell of jet fuel. Mooncrest. Tarnished silver angels. The south wing--"

"The south wing?" Hyaster looked shocked, frightened, and hateful all at once. Who the hell is this, anyway? he wondered. Lightcrasher... is that me? But I can't trust a Maximal!

"Terrorize," Hyaster growled, and Airazor fell back. Primus-- his face, too? "Look bird-girl, I don't know who you are or what your story is, but this conversation stops now!" Drawing his lips back in a fanged smile, he charged blindly at her.

Silently, ignoring the cries of alarm from the other Maximals, Airazor lifted her arm and shot a wrist-missile straight into Hyaster's throat.

The Predacon's eyes bulged for an instant, then blacked out as he collapsed to the sand. Airazor stepped up to him slowly, tracing her fingers along the planes of his face. His face... his eyes... his voice... but it's not him. They've got him now; we can't bring him back. She felt a familiar tightness in her throat, but swallowed it back. Tears later, girl. Gotta keep up a tough face for the boys. After a moment's hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed him gently. You'll never know how much I still love you, Lightcrasher.

Airazor forced herself to stand and turn; she saw behind her what she knew she would see-- Tigatron and Dinobot staring at her, agape. Tigatron, especially; there was a pain and hostility in his eyes that she chose to ignore. Lord knew she couldn't deal with him and his sensitivity right now. Cheetor alone had ignored the scene; he slowly walked onto the dry sand, trying in vain to limp on all four legs. She forced herself to walk away from Lightcra-- Hyaster, it's Hyaster, don't start mixing the two up-- Hyaster, and Dinobot moved to help support the cheetah. "We need to get back to base," Airazor said flatly.

Tigatron stared at her, then turned back to the fallen Predacon. Slowly he stepped up to the robot, staring down at him with amazement and some anger. What in Cybertron did Airazor see in this creature? She had even... kissed him; and who was he?

The white tiger twitched his nose. A feeling he was unaccustomed to was rushing through his body, forcing logical thought out of his mind, pushing its way into his heart. Jealousy... he was jealous of this creature, this Predacon, that he should enjoy such attentions from Airazor. And this animal had tried to kill her-- what--

"Tigatron." He turned and saw Airazor hovering above in beast mode, her face a mask. "Leave him be."

Tigatron stepped back, away from the unconscious robot. "Airazor--"

But she was already gone, disappearing easily into the night. Tigatron clenched his jaws and moved to help Cheetor back to the Axalon, his mind whirling.

1998 Readers' Choice Awards Winner
Best Tearjerker (tie)
Best Drama

Away and Flying, pt. 8(PG)
by Jennifer C. Stevens (followmyshadow@hotmail.com)

Optimus collapsed gratefully into one of the med bay chairs. Generally the team's post-conflict meetings were held in the command room, but enough of them were banged up to where Optimus had thrown tradition out the window and had everyone gather in the medical area. Rhinox, who was pretty much the resident nurse of the Maximals regardless, was busy tending to the pair of CR chambers occupied by Tungsten and Cheetor. Rattrap, Singspiel, Tigatron, and Airazor were scattered across the room in various states of disrepair.

"All right, team," Optimus said aloud. "Here's how we come out of this mess... Cheetor and Tungsten took some damage, but they should be all right. The Predacons also somehow managed to get Sentinel offline."

"It's pretty much back to normal," Rhinox sighed. "Although I still haven't figured out how they went out in the first place."

Optimus smiled faintly. "Let's wait for daylight before we worry about that. I think Predacon attacks are done for the night."

"I should hope so," Singspiel sighed. "I know I've had enough of them for a while."

"On to the matter of the stasis pods," the Maximal leader said. "It looks as though both of the protoforms the Predacons recovered survived."

"What?" Rattrap demanded. "That can't be right!"

"It is. Dinobot, Cheetor, and Tigatron encountered a new Predacon named... what was it?"

"Hyaster," Airazor interjected, before anyone else could speak. "Hyena beast mode."

"Um... right," Optimus replied, studying her. Was this Hyaster her friend, then? Well, one look at her face and Optimus could tell this would not be the ideal time to ask. "And from what Inferno said, the pod that landed last night is still in decent shape."

"Really?"

"Yes. But unfortunately I was forced to give him some information which he then escaped with... and we may have a very powerful Predacon on the horizon."

Tigatron looked up with a frown. "What's inside that pod, Optimus?" he asked, and Dinobot shook his head.

"Whatever it is, I am sure it is not something that needs to fall into the hands of the Predacons."

"You've got that right," Optimus sighed. "It's a seer."

"A what?"

"A seer... they are protoforms which also have psychic abilities."

Rattrap chuckled. "Ahh Optimus, that's all a bunch of crap. There ain't no such thing."

"Rattrap, of course there is! Everyone has a little of that seeing ability, to reach out with their minds. To feel what someone else is thinking... to know things that are just impossible to know."

"Sure, a LITTLE! But nobody can have as much as those old 'Seer' legends claim. Nobody's mind is that powerful."

As the pair continued to argue, Singspiel ignored the banter and walked over to Airazor. "So?"

"Hyaster," she said with a sigh. "He's Lightcrasher, Sing. They got to him, and he doesn't remember me or anything else. He's gone... for good, I think."

Singspiel sighed and put a reassuring arm around Airazor's shoulders. "I'm sorry about all that, Raze."

"Thanks... but I'll be okay. I have my answers."

Singspiel nodded as Airazor stared off into the distance, sighing. How am I going to handle it the next time I see Hyaster? she wondered. I imagine getting over him isn't going to be as easy as it sounds...

Rattrap noticed Airazor leaning her head against Singspiel's shoulder. He smiled to himself faintly, but did not speak. Across the room, Tigatron noticed the gesture, as well. He did not say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes. Without a sound he stood and padded out of the room.

Nobody really noticed.

Sealed inside the darkness of the restoration chamber, Cheetor floated in semi-consciousness, the faint sound of tinny voices reaching his ears. It was dark... but he wasn't afraid. He knew the light was coming, that this chamber would soon open. His consciousness was as narrow as a pencil beam. What had drawn him from sleep?

Seer,he thought to himself groggily, catching the word. He really wasn't sure why, but for some reason something in his mind grabbed hold of that thought and refused to let go, even as he slipped back into the serenity of unconsciousness.

At this point, Megatron was finding it necessary to hold his temper with both hands. How many of his troops had been carried back to the base in pieces? How many others had dragged themselves in, sparking and with sputtering optics, offering him wan smiles and empty excuses? He ground his teeth, a bad habit he had developed on this forsaken planet. They all occupied the restoration tanks now; all except for a handful. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he turned back to the examination table in the command center.

The stasis pod remained, broken and silent, in the center of the room. Unchanged. Megatron placed a gentle hand on its scarred surface as, nearby, a woozy Tarantulus tapped into the memory banks of Inferno. "Will you be able to extract the necessary information, Tarantulus?" Megatron growled.

Tarantulus blinked and glanced up. "Yes, Megatron... just... in a moment."

Inferno, who had been dubbed "unconquerable" by some back on Cybertron, sat frozen in an upright position, his optics black and his body smoking and stinking with damage. He was alive, most certainly, but was also most certainly offline. Megatron considered the ant, one of his most loyal troops. Well, he had managed to drag himself back to the base; that showed a good amount of determination and grit on his part. And he had, from what he had gasped out, been able to access the codes for the stasis pod. Megatron smiled; it seemed Inferno deserved a promotion. After all, his other troops had been utter failures in this mission. Perhaps it was time for some training drills.

Across the room, several lifts hummed to life, and Terrorsaur cruised into view, looking sour. Behind him, Blackarachnia approached, gnawing on her lip and frowning deeply. Hyaster lay at her feet in beast mode, his nose leaking as always. "Ah, my dear functional troops," Megatron chuckled. "Perhaps you agree that before our next battle, some preparation is in order?"

"I was prepared!" Terrorsaur shrieked in protest. "I was--"

"Terrorsaur," Megatron said patiently, "Shut up."

Terrorsaur obliged, looking much put upon. Megatron turned back to Tarantulus. Of course, he should be ready to toss all three of the ingrates to the pit, but he was just dazzled at the moment. His new Predacon was about to come to life. Perhaps it could aid him in snapping his group of lowlifes and criminals into a fighting force.

Tarantulus pressed a thinly-wired device against a circuit deep inside Inferno's neural core, frowning. The spider turned his head aside suddenly, coughing and struggling to stay focused on his task. Must get this information... Megatron will rip me apart if I don't. The device hummed, and suddenly beeped. Tarantulus withdrew it, studied it, then leaned down heavily against the support that was Inferno's stiff body. Perhaps, one day, he could incorporate pieces of the cursed ant into a footstool. He snickered at the thought, which was really rather comical. "I have it, Megatron."

The commander straightened, his breath quickening. The other Predacons also looked up with interest. "Yes?"

"Access code... Glass-two-six-alpha, backslash-eighteen-zero-one, tango-alpha-seventy-three-niner. Did you get that?"

Megatron's fingers had flashed rapidly across the pod's access panels as Tarantulus spoke, and he ignored the question as the pod suddenly, rapidly, came to life. The room fell silent as the pod's internal computer slowly warmed. "Access code acknowledged. Programming chip identified."

Megatron looked up at Tarantulus, his eyes flaming. Before he could speak, Tarantulus raised his hands and nodded enthusiastically. He knew the question on his leader's lips. Of course he had changed the programming chip. The last thing they needed was a Maximal as the result of all this work and pain.

"This had better be good," Terrorsaur grumbled.

"Programming complete. Protoform fully functional."

The Predacon leader stepped back from the pod, and around the room ever warrior able turned curiously to view their newest teammate. Slowly, the beaten cover of the pod cracked open, and brilliant daggers of light flashed into the darkness of the base. Gasping, Tarantulus shielded his eyes. Gah... room has never been so bright.

Hyaster and Megatron both turned away as the cover slowly rose, spreading more light across the room. Blackarachnia alone stared at it, her optics struggling to adjust for the brightness, transfixed. It had been her experience that protoform Predacons had little class, and even less brains. Nothing to write home about. But in all her experience, she had never seen a pod so... threatening.

Megatron smiled a little. He knew it-- he knew this pod was special...

The lid finally creaked open completely. The light seemed to intensify for a moment, stabbing and sparkling with whiteness. And then--

Nothing.

Silence.

The Predacons turned their heads, blinking to reaccustom themselves to the darkness. Terrorsaur was the first to recover; he turned eagerly towards the pod and saw--

It was a squirrel.

Sitting back on its haunches, the creature had its tiny forelegs drawn up to its chest, working its nose around. It seemed calm as its large, dopey dark eyes flicked across the room. Smooth fur of cream and oak colors covered its body, and a huge bushy tail arched up over its back.

Terrorsaur blinked, then looked at Tarantulus, anxious to confirm the sight before him. The spider's wide-eyed expression was all the assurance he needed. "It's no bigger than Waspinator," he mouthed in disbelief.

A bright, sparkling laughter broke the silence, and all eyes were drawn to Hyaster. He giggled incessantly, unable to restrain himself. "All this for an oversized rat," he chuckled aloud. "Man, you don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Megatron's jaws clenched so tightly he felt he might snap off a tooth. "I know exactly what you're going to do," he hissed, approaching with a menacing dip of the head. Hyaster scrambled to his feet in alarm.

Footsteps on metal sounded behind Megatron, and what he saw out of the corner of his eye halted his attack. Stepping smoothly out of the stasis pod, the squirrel transformed into a small, radiantly white robot. The face was older, careworn with time, and decidedly female. She folded her arms across her chest, optics a lucent blue. But what no one could tear their eyes from was the mark seared into her forehead-- an unmistakable blood-red symbol.

"My God..." Tarantulus whispered. "A Seer! Perhaps our losses were worth it after all."

"I am Cryptomystic," the form said evenly. Her voice splintered, as though she were speaking around a throatful of glass shards.

His mouth hanging open, Hyaster looked up at Blackarachnia. The spider had developed a tic under one eye, as she seemed unable to look away from the robot. Her face was ashen. He turned his gaze to Terrorsaur, who was staring at Cryptomystic oddly. Hyaster got the sudden uncomfortable feeling that Terrorsaur might begin screaming at any moment.

Megatron's eyes were shining almost as brightly as the new Predacon's, and he slowly extended his hand to her, palm up. "I am Megatron, the commander of the Predacons," he said smoothly.

Cryptomystic dropped her hand into Megatron's. "I know," she whispered.

Megatron regarded the female with a smile slowly curling up the corners of his mouth. His hand tightened around Cryptomystic's; he could feel the live power rushing through her. Tarantulus' words echoed in his brain: Perhaps our losses were worth it after all.

Cryptomystic lowered her gaze directly into his own. The diamond symbol on her head seemed to pulse with energy.

Indeed.