Beast Wars Anonymous:

Beast Wars and all related belong to Hasbro. The story, its original contents and ideas, and any original characters belong to the author and cannot be used or reprinted without the author's permission.

New Arrivals
by Neale Davidson (tfneale@home.com)

ACT ONE

In the dark curtain of space, the Maximal starship Gung Ho soars on patrol duty, skirting around the bluish glow of a wormhole. It’s Captain, LIO CONVOY sits in the command chair of the bridge. In front of him are his recruits, BIG HORN, APACHE, SCUBA, DIVER, and KID. Their leader looks over them, judging over them.

LIO CONVOY: The past three months have shown a lot of growth from each of you. But your overall performance is still lower than what the Maximal Elders expect from you.

KID: How can we prove ourselves stuck on idle patrol duty, Lio?

BIG HORN: He’s right. All we’re doing is routine button-pushing and simple drills. Nothing happens in the dead sectors.

SCUBA: Yeah. Why did we get stuck on this assignment? My grandfather would have had something more interesting to do than push buttons and look at scanners all day.

LIO CONVOY (calmly): That’s enough complaints. We’ve got three more months to go in your training. When that’s done, your final evaluations will be turned in for approval. Right now I’m not sure any of you would qualify.

APACHE (scowling): Lio!

LIO CONVOY shoots APACHE a dirty look, causing the smaller commander to back down for a moment. The Captain looks over his troops once more, shaking his head. KID, SCUBA, BIG HORN, and DIVER exchanged a worried expression, but quickly snap-to.

LIO CONVOY: For the next week, we’ll double our drills.

SCUBA: Sir?

LIO CONVOY: You have a problem with that, Scuba?

SCUBA (worried): No sir.

LIO CONVOY: Good. We’ll start this evening.

As LIO CONVOY readies another round of dressing down, an alarm sounds on the bridge. The tone repeats until KID rushes over and links up his head gear to the console.

APACHE: What is it?

KID: Hyperpulse transmission. I’m not getting a good fix on it yet.

LIO CONVOY: Scanners didn’t show anyone else near here.

KID (worried): It’s a distress signal.

LIO CONVOY: Whose?

KID: It’s Maximal, but it’s very faint. There’s something about Predacons but I can’t quite make it out.

APACHE: Where is it coming from?

KID (hesitant): That’s just it. It’s coming from inside the wormhole.

APACHE: Inside?

LIO CONVOY: We have to check it out. Maximals could be in danger. Apache, Big Horn, the two of you come with me. The rest of you just keep the ship where it is.

SCUBA: Yes, sir.

SCUBA, DIVER, and KID each nod and head to their stations as LIO CONVOY, APACHE, and BIG HORN all head out of the bridge area. KID watches them leave carefully, leaning over in his chair to make sure that the larger trio are gone.

KID: Primus, what crawled up Lio’s tailpipe today?

DIVER (scowling): He just wants us all to be perfect.

SCUBA (quietly): He just wants to be sure we can handle ourselves when we get real assignments.

KID (snorting): If he had his way we never would see a real assignment.

The Gung Ho sweeps along the wormhole’s outer rim, and opens it’s landing bay. Three single-man fighters slip out of the hold and head farther into the wormhole. All three remain in formation, and slip into a graceful arc.

BIG HORN: Sensor sweeping the wormhole now. I can’t see anything out there.

LIO CONVOY: Be careful. The gravity stresses from the wormhole are pretty strong. Skirt around the edges until we spot something.

BIG HORN: Yes, sir.

APACHE: Lio. You were a bit rough on the troops. Why are you pushing them so hard?

LIO CONVOY: They’re reckless and irresponsible.

APACHE (sighing): They’re trainees, Lio. They’re like that.

LIO CONVOY: And it’s my job to be sure that they’re not like that.

APACHE: You’re pushing too hard, Lio.

LIO CONVOY: And you shouldn’t be questioning my methods in front of them, Apache.

APACHE sighs, and is about to retort when something blips across his monitor. He looks over his readings, wondering what it was.

APACHE: I’ve got something. It’s high energy, but in the wormhole I can’t make it out.

BIG HORN (skeptical): I’m not getting anything.

LIO CONVOY: Can you track it?

APACHE: I didn’t see it long enough.

LIO CONVOY: Swing around and cover me. Big Horn, join up.

BIG HORN: On my way.

APACHE: Wait, I got something again.

LIO CONVOY (impatient): Swing around.

APACHE: I think I can get a fix –

APACHE looks over his scanners as BIG HORN pulls his fighter over to join LIO CONVOY. APACHE grumbles and tries to work his controls to get a better fix. Within seconds, however, it no longer matters. The wormhole erupts, spilling out a large black winged shape. Violet traces can be made out glinting from it's points. APACHE’s gapes at the large form.

APACHE: Lio, incoming!

LIO CONVOY: Get over here and cover. The fighters don’t have the firepower to engage in battle. Move it, mister.

APACHE: On my way.

But it comes too late. The beast’s maw opens, letting out a white-hot blast of energy into the lead fighter. LIO CONVOY growls out, but in vain. His engines rupture and explode, spinning the craft down towards the wormhole. BIG HORN turns and fires on the beast, but the fighter’s blasts do little more than anger it. As it gets hit more and more, the dragon form of GALVATRON reveals itself.

BIG HORN: Lio!

APACHE (stunned): No. I didn’t –

BIG HORN (worried): Apache, my weapons aren’t doing anything.

APACHE (stammering): Lio, I’m sorry.

BIG HORN (worried): Apache!

APACHE (stammering): All right, all right. Big Horn, just try to keep him busy. I’m taking my fighter in after Lio.

BIG HORN: His fighter’s too far down already.

APACHE: I have to try. Just keep that thing off of me.

BIG HORN’s fighter arcs around again, and fires. GALVATRON sends out another bolt, and it’s all BIG HORN can do to pull away from it. APACHE, for his part, rushes down, catching only the glint of metal from LIO CONVOY’s wrecked fighter. His fighter begins to shake from the stresses of the spatial distortion.

COMPUTER: Warning, hull stress extreme.

APACHE: Just a little more, computer. I can get him.

GALVATRON, however, has other plans. Though BIG HORN does as much as he can, the beast is simply too powerful for fighters, and opens opts to attack APACHE’s fighter. Another blast rushes from his maw, and slams hard through one of the fighter’s wings. APACHE screams out as his fighter goes out of control. GALVATRON moves in for the kill.

BIG HORN: Apache!

APACHE (panicked): I can’t. Lio. I can’t get him. I can’t control my ship.

BIG HORN: You’re in his sights. Bail out, eject.

APACHE: I won’t survive the wormhole. Get out of here, Big. Get to the ship.

BIG HORN: I won’t leave you.

APACHE (insistent): That’s an order!

APACHE takes in a nervous breath, and tries desperate to right his craft. It seems too late as the daunting form of GALVATRON rushes down on him and rears back to attack again. However, a massive blast from the Gung Ho slams into the Predacon first, sending him spinning. The bridge of the ship is alive with activity as SCUBA, DIVER, and KID man their stations.

SCUBA: Direct hit!

KID (smirking): You doubted me?

SCUBA: All the time.

DIVER: Get the tractor beams on those fighters now, and bring them aboard.

SCUBA (worried): All right. I can’t get Lio’s. He’s too far in the wormhole.

DIVER: Save who you can.

SCUBA (surprised): But, sir -

DIVER (insistent): Do it, Scuba. Taz, provide cover fire against that thing.

KID: On it, and firing.

GALVATRON turns back to see the Maximal cruiser bearing down on him. He rushes forward and fires off another blast, causing the ship to rattle once. As the cruiser nears, two beams of light rush out and connect to the fighters, beginning to pull them in. GALVATRON tries again to attack them, but the Gung Ho’s main cannon proves discouraging. GALVATRON retreats back into the wormhole’s core as APACHE watches on helplessly.

APACHE: He’s retreating.

SCUBA (on radio): I’ve got solid contact. You’ll both be aboard in a minute.

APACHE: Can you reach Leo?

SCUBA (quietly): No, sir. We’ve lost him.

APACHE looks out sadly to the center of the wormhole then lowers his eyes. The glow of the tractor beam continues to surround the ship as GALVATRON disappears fully from view into the nothingness at the center of the whole.

APACHE: I’m sorry, Leo. It’s my fault.

The commander stares again at the wormhole, clenching his fists in anguish and frustration. As waves in space ripple out from the center, we gently fade to black.

ACT TWO

The bridge doors slide open. APACHE and BIG HORN both step in somberly. SCUBA, DIVER, and KID all look at them quietly. No one is too sure what to say just yet. The main screen still shows the wormhole spiraling ripples in space.

SCUBA (softly): Commander –

APACHE (quietly): It’s all right. Thank you all for saving us.

BIG HORN: What attacked us?

DIVER: A Predacon. He was using firepower unseen since the Great War. Truth is, we’re lucky the Gung Ho scared him off. We really couldn’t have taken him.

BIG HORN: And he went back into the wormhole.

DIVER: As far as I can tell.

APACHE: So there’s something on the other side?

SCUBA: The signal came from the wormhole itself. Maybe so.

APACHE (quietly): Then Lio could be on the other side as well.

SCUBA: I wouldn’t –

APACHE: It’s all right, Scuba. Wishful thinking, I know. Is the distress call still being broadcast?

SCUBA: Yes, sir. Just like before.

KID: It could be a trap.

BIG HORN: We’ve already walked in it.

APACHE: Scuba, divert all power to shields. We’re going in.

SCUBA (stunned): Say again?

APACHE: Someone needs help in there, probably from the Predacon that we saw. We have to go in.

SCUBA (fearful): Yes, sir. Understood.

BIG HORN: Are you sure about this, Apache? Even if we make it through, we don’t know what’s on the other side. We could be flying right into a black hole or dark star.

APACHE (softly): That Predacon came from somewhere, Big Horn. And if he’s attacked us, he may have attacked more Maximals as well.

APACHE sits in his usual chair, aside the now-empty command chair. BIG HORN sighs and takes his station, as do the other Maximals. APACHE stares at the screen a bit longer, and finally makes his decision final.

APACHE: Turn us into the wormhole. Maximum power to shields. Let’s see what’s in there.

The Gung Ho kicks in its engines and starts to move deeper into the wormhole’s currents. On another screen monitoring the whole, a blip appears. STARSCREAM and MEGASTORM both look over at it, shaking their heads.

MEGASTORM: There he is again.

STARSCREAM: Right through the transwarp rift. Or what’s left of it.

MEGASTORM: What do you think he’s up to?

STARSCREAM (sighing): I don’t know. Nothing about him has made sense yet. He may just be trying to find someway to leave the planet.

MEGASTORM: Why would he want to do that?

STARSCREAM: How should I know? I’m not exactly his keeper.

MEGASTORM (accusingly): You knew his name.

STARSCREAM: That that’s about all so far. His programming may not be complete. Just keep our sensors on him for now. He may he decide to come visit us when his systems come fully online.

MEGASTORM: Right now he’s attacking everything and everyone that comes near him. Are you just afraid that he’ll attack you too?

STARSCREAM: If it is Galvatron, I have reason to fear him. You should as well.

MEGASTORM (sighing): It’s impossible, Starscream. There was no CR chamber. There was no joining of sparks.

STARSCREAM (resigned): No, there wasn’t.

MEGASTORM (accusingly): How could this Galvatron of yours be created? Tell me. What are you hiding? What do you know, Starscream?

STARSCREAM: Not enough. I just know that Galvatron is here. And, sooner or later, he’ll want command of the Predacons.

MEGASTORM (grumbling): Over my rusting carcass.

STARSCREAM (flatly): Yes.

STARSCREAM turns, looking over the partially rebuilt command center of the Nemesis, and shakes his head. DIRGE, THRUST, and BB are each working on makeshift repairs, trying to get some of the basic ship functions going again. MEGASTORM and STARSCREAM, for now, both stand in the command area, looking down over them.

MEGASTORM: What of the Jointrons?

STARSCREAM: The scanners aren’t picking them up. Of course since most of the scanners are busted on this heap, that’s not a surprise.

MEGASTORM: Thrust, Dirge, see if you can spot them from the air. They couldn’t have gotten far with those beast modes and their injuries. And, as of now, they have no way of getting proper repairs.

THRUST: Do you want us to kill them?

MEGASTORM: Yes, but radio if you need help.

THRUST: We’ll find them, and bring you back their scrap for trophies.

THRUST and DIRGE rush out and transform to their jet modes, departing from the NEMESIS with haste. BB very quietly continues working, not even caring that the others have gone. STARSCREAM, for his part, steps forward, shaking his head.

STARSCREAM: They’re not the most reliable of fighters.

MEGASTORM: You have other suggestions?

STARSCREAM: Not yet. Not until we can recharge the CR chamber, anyway.

MEGASTORM: Well, let’s just hope that they’re good enough to deal with our only real threat.

Far above, the Gung Ho fades from the wormhole’s other side. Shaking and pitching a bit, the ship does remain in one piece. Below them, and somewhat distant, the planet Earth lies waiting for them. SCUBA, on the bridge with the others, looks over the scans in disbelief.

SCUBA: We are not supposed to be here.

APACHE: Is that?

DIVER: Earth. It looks like the history discs said it would.

SCUBA (confused): The scanners match up the critical data. But –

APACHE: But?

SCUBA: There’s no sign of advanced civilization. There’s a few points of pollution here and there, but nothing major. There’s no civilized society there, nor any evidence that there has been one.

DIVER: That’s not possible.

SCUBA: Through a wormhole it is.

APACHE (dawning): Time travel.

SCUBA: Looks that way.

APACHE: This couldn’t have been an accident, then. Are you still receiving the distress signal?

SCUBA: Yes, sir. There’s something else. We just avoiding getting scanned as well. There’s an old-style sector scanner operating in what will be Central America.

BIG HORN: Predacons?

SCUBA: That would be my guess.

APACHE (quietly): What about Lio? Or that thing that attacked him?

SCUBA (worried): I lost the bogey when he moved into the atmosphere. I never had track of Lio at all.

APACHE: First things first. Home in on the distress signal, before the Predacons here discover it.

Streaking through the air, THRUST and DIRGE continue their scans for the missing Jointrons, the two jets stay at each-others wings as the lower down to look over the broken jungle terrain beneath them.

THRUST: Hopeless. The terrain is too thick. My scanners can’t penetrate the canopy.

DIRGE: They’re here. They’re afraid to come out. They fear us.

THRUST (scowling): Great. That just means we can’t find them.

DIRGE: Wait, signal detected. It must be them.

THRUST: I’m not sensing anything, Dirge. You’re getting my shadow.

DIRGE: No, it’s on an interplanetary band. It’s a distress signal!

THRUST (gleefully): We have them!

DIRGE and THRUST rush forward through the trees and transform. The duo draw out their weapons and land, crashing through the canopy before hitting the ground. They step forward, looking around.

DIRGE (confused): Beast modes or not, I should be able to scan them at this range.

THRUST: Where is the signal source?

DIRGE: We’re almost on top of it.

DIRGE and THRUST take a few more steps through the jungle. As they pass a few more brushes, they emerge into a small clearing. A stone pillar stands, etched in an ancient, though impossible, Aztecan style. On it is a mechanical device. The Autobot symbol is displayed on its side.

THRUST (confused): An Autobot transmitter?

DIRGE: The Jointrons are not in range. I cannot detect their energy. Where are they?

THRUST: Why would they send a distress call and not stick around in case it’s answered?

As the two ponder what’s just happened to them, the air shimmers above. The Gung Ho ripples from it’s cloaking device and back into existence above them. The two Predacons look up with shocked expressions and leap to the air, transforming, as the decloaking ship powers up its guns.

KID: Cloaking field disengaged. Shields and defenses powered up.

SCUBA: Two Predacons, they’re engaging us.

BIG HORN: Only two? What about the Maximals?

SCUBA: None on scanners.

APACHE (snapping): They destroyed them! We’re too late!

DIVER (quickly): We don’t know that, Apache.

APACHE: It doesn’t matter. Taz, open fire.

KID (hesitant): Yes, sir.

The Gung Ho turns and faces the two jets, and opens fire. As THRUST and DIRGE arc around and start to return fire, we fade to black.

ACT THREE

THRUST and DIRGE arc around and open fire, bringing their weapons to strafe on the Gung Ho. The light cruiser turns and starts to return fire, hovering above the canopy, engines flaring. The two Predacon jets continue to circle around, resorting to strafing tactics.

APACHE (impatient): How come you keep missing them? You’re supposed to be a gunner?

KID: I’m trying. This ship wasn’t designed for point-defense.

DIVER: Shields are slipping, down to eighty percent. The atmosphere is interfering with them.

APACHE: Keep them up. Taz, hit those Predacons, for once.

KID (snapping): You want to do this?

BIG HORN: Stand down, Taz, just concentrate. Apache –

APACHE: Scuba, keep scanners peeled for any reinforcements.

KID shakes his head, and continues to try and shoot THRUST. Sadly, the jets move quickly and constantly keep evading. The gun turret strains and tries hard to lock on, but to no avail. Blasts riddle all over the sky, but THRUST twists easily to avoid them. DIRGE, for his part strafes the side of the ship.

THRUST: They’re guns cannot lock onto us.

DIRGE: Then keep on them.

Both the jets circle around again and open fire. The Gung Ho shudders from the blasts. Small trails of smoke appears from the burn points on the ship’s armor. SCUBA and KID exchange worried looks, but both keep to their duty.

SCUBA: Shields down to fifty percent.

DIVER: No Predacon can take down our shields that quickly.

SCUBA: It’s not them, it’s the atmosphere. The shields can’t maintain cohesion with that much air.

KID: Targeting is no good, sir. They’re too fast for these guns.

BIG HORN (quietly): This is stupid. Apache!

APACHE: I won’t lose this. Taz, try a crossfire.

KID (insistent): That’s what I’ve been trying to do.

The ship shakes again, and SCUBA looks up with worry. A few panels start to spark and the lights flicker. THRUST and DIRGE have just completed another pass. The damage is finally starting to mount up.

KID: I can’t hit them sir.

SCUBA: Shields just collapsed.

APACHE (angrily): Raise them!

SCUBA: I can’t within the atmosphere, sir.

APACHE (angrily): Slag! What are you good for? Raise those shields.

SCUBA (snapping): It’s useless. They weren’t meant for this, sir.

BIG HORN (firmly): Scuba, stand down. Apache, that’s enough. They’re doing what they can.

APACHE (disbelieving): They’re not getting away. This is a light cruiser. They are only two fighters. This shouldn’t be a contest. We have the firepower, the strength.

BIG HORN (forced calm): The Gung Ho is out of her element. She wasn’t meant to fight planet-side.

APACHE (calming): We –

BIG HORN: If we stay here, we’ll lose. We’ve got no shields left, and our guns can lock on. How exactly are we supposed to fight?

APACHE (distantly): We can’t lose, Big Horn. We can’t lose now. I can’t fail again.

DIVER: They’re coming back around.

BIG HORN: Shields?

SCUBA: It’s not going to happen.

DIVER: Brace yourselves for it.

THRUST slips back under the ship along with DIRGE. The two jets open fire on the underbelly, and strike the engine housing. As they pull out, the damage is telling. Sparks appear under the ship first, then finally a larger burst of energy as part of the engine housing explodes.

SCUBA (scowling): Dammit, lucky shot.

KID (quickly): Weapons just went off-line.

APACHE: What happened?

DIVER: Engine hit. Power systems are on secondary. Not enough juice for all weapons.

APACHE: Divert power and bring them around.

BIG HORN (calmly): Let it go, Apache. It’s done.

APACHE: We have to get them. Lio –

BIG HORN (firmly): Can’t be saved like this.

DIVER: He’s right. We need to pull out. The engines can still get us away without any problem.

APACHE falls very silent, and sits back in his chair. Finally, he nods his assent to the rest of the crew. SCUBA and BIG HORN betray relieved looks as DIVER steps over to the helm.

DIVER: Pulling out now.

The Gung Ho lifts up and turns its nose up. THRUST and DIRGE don’t realize right away what’s happening as they arc around to open fire again. A few more shots slam into the rear of the ship, but with little effect. The main engines power up and flare to light. Slowly, the ship stars to gain distance.

THRUST: They’re pulling away!

DIRGE: Keep up your fire. We must bring them down.

THRUST and DIRGE continue and push in their afterburners, but neither is fast enough to keep up with the retreating ship. They keep up firing but soon it becomes futile. The ship starts to disappear over the horizon, leaving the two Predacons to simmer in frustration.

THRUST: Dammit. They’re gone.

DIRGE: We better report back to Starscream.

THRUST and DIRGE arc away, leaving the scene. In the ship, SCUBA waits until they disappear from the scanners and finally breathes a little easier. The other Maximals aboard are still manning their stations. APACHE, however, has let his head fall between his hands.

SCUBA: They’re gone. We’re free of sensor sweeps.

DIVER: Find a good place to set down for repairs. When those two report back, the whole lot of them will come looking. However many there are of them, anyway.

APACHE (quietly): I screwed up, Maximals. I nearly got us killed.

BIG HORN: You just lost your temper, Apache. You lost control for a moment. It happens to all of us. Just be thankful that it wasn’t worse.

APACHE: I won’t let it happen again.

BIG HORN (quietly): Sure you won’t.

BIG HORN pats APACHE on the shoulder and steps over to SCUBA, who is looking over the local terrain. Finally, SCUBA spots a suitable spot of land, and lowers begins to set a new course to set down. The Gung Ho sets down, letting it’s lowering struts in a grassy clearing, surrounded by lush trees and overgrown stone. Only the trails of black smoke coming from under the hull mar the beauty of nature here. Inside, the crew assesses their situation.

DIVER: Well this isn’t what I signed up for.

APACHE: Status?

KID: Weapons have no power. Starboard engine damage. We can’t leave the atmosphere without some repairs. Cloak and impulse drives are fine.

DIVER: All scanners are up. With a few days, we can get her back up and running.

KID: I might be able to rig up some point-defense in the meantime, if I have the chance.

BIG HORN (aside to Apache): Not a bad idea.

APACHE: Not a bad idea.

SCUBA: There’s one problem. Local energon levels are pretty high. Hours of work out there and we’ll get overloaded. Not too much of a problem, but we can

APACHE: Your thoughts.

SCUBA: Well, we’re not going anywhere for a bit, and the Predacons will know we’re here eventually.

KID: And we can’t leave without finding the Maximals. Someone sent out a distress signal. Those Predacons were surprised to see us.

DIVER (sighing): It was my grandfather’s dying wish that I not go on wild quests. We have no idea where to begin looking, guys. We’re not suited for the planet. We’re not even fully trained.

KID: What do you want to do?

APACHE: We adapt.

APACHE steps over to the command console and trips the scanners. As the other Maximals look quizzically over, the Gung Ho begins to throw out its DNA scanners, catching a number of local animals. After several hours, the ship’s computer finally announces the end of its work.

COMPUTER: Replication complete, you may emerge.

APACHE steps out of the RC chamber in his new beast mode, followed by DIVER and BIG HORN in their new adopted forms. SCUBA steps out next, in his robot mode, grumbling a little. Behind him, TAZ, in his aptly chosen mode, snickers.

SCUBA: I’m stuck with a beast mode I can only use in water.

KID: Sucks to be you.

DIVER: It could come in handy. Over two-thirds of this planet is water.

SCUBA (grumbles): Right, and the ‘cons are going to have an underwater base, right?

DIVER: It could happen.

APACHE shakes his head at his charges and heads outside of the ship. As the group of Maximals take in their surroundings, APACHE turns back to them. The trees are lush green. The sky is bright blue, marked with only a few wisps of clouds. Small flowers line the clearing.

DIVER (awestruck): It’s beautiful.

SCUBA: Absolutely beautiful.

APACHE: Maximals, welcome to Earth.

The Maximal part take in their surroundings and draw in nervous breaths. As they start to look over their battered ship, we fade to black.

FINISH