Plays of Shadow

By: Amber Dawn

Chapter 11: Rising Tides

PG-13

Language

Disclaimer: Beast Wars belongs to Hasbro. Lucky Hasbro.

Blackarachnia peered around the corner and, satisfied that the coast was clear, snuck down the hallway to her personal quarters. She pressed the door release and the hatch hissed open. Once she had slipped inside the door closed automatically behind her.

Crossing the room, the spider femme slumped down on her recharge bed and groaned. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and she needed to rest. It had taken her a while to get from Tarantulas’ lair back to the Darkside, and now it was way past daybreak. The rest of the Predacons would be rising soon and she wouldn’t be able to get out of her regular jobs. With any luck Megatron would put her back on monitor duty for a while; she didn’t think she had the capacity for more than that right now.

And yet despite her physical exhaustion, her processor refused to shut down. Everything that had happened in the past day kept running through her mind, exhausting her even further when she tried to think it all through. Not to mention she was frustrated at feeling so many things that she shouldn’t be feeling.

Tarantulas was right: she was becoming emotionally attached to Fleetshade. She hadn’t known the neutral femme for a week, and yet she felt some inexplicable bond to her. Why? Fleetshade obviously had her uses and would serve her well as a potential ally, but that didn’t explain why the spider felt so protective of the small former slave. And why had she backed down from that fight with Airazor last night?

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Blackarachnia told herself, ‘you know you backed down because you didn’t want to put a rift between you and Fleetshade.’

After listening to Fleetshade’s story, Blackarachnia had half-heartedly toyed with the idea that the deer femme was lying. But it had answered so many of her questions so perfectly that she hadn’t been able to hold to the notion long. Besides, what reason did Fleetshade have to lie to her? Blackarachnia had been nothing but kind to the girl, despite her Predacon nature.

So if what Fleetshade had said was true, then Blackarachnia shouldn’t be ashamed of saying anything in front of Airazor. Of course she would never admit it out loud, but she had always had a grudging respect and a sort of admiration for the Maximal female. She was also jealous of the falcon-bot for obvious reasons: Blackarachnia didn’t know what went on behind the walls of the Maximals’ base, but if Silverbolt was any indication of Maximal males then Airazor certainly didn’t have to install a security monitor outside her bedroom door.

Things sure were different for Maximals, Blackarachnia thought whimsically, activating her bug scanner (Primus only knew what Tarantulas might’ve put on her while she was in his lab). An image rose unbidden in her mind again: an image of wide, guileless golden optics.

“…You were originally a Maximal protoform…”

“…Just admit there is a spark of goodness deep inside you…”

“Ugh!” Blackarachnia cried, “Primus, what is my problem?!”

Disgusted with herself, Blackarachnia stood and started pacing the length of her tiny room, remembering what she had said to Fleetshade the night before. “I guess when you have enough people believing the best in you, you start to believe it too.” It was true.

She loved being a Predacon, not bound by the restrictions of honor or inhibitions. She was her own ‘bot and she looked out for number one.

‘Then why did you save him?’ a nasty little voice in her mind asked. ‘Why did you agree to help Fleetshade? What has she ever done for you?’

“I saved him because there may have been other creatures in the woods I couldn’t defend myself from,” Blackarachnia snarled aloud, “not to mention he’d be pathetically easy to twist into handing me Maximal secrets. And Fleetshade may prove useful in the future. Wouldn’t do to have Tarantulas get his hands on her and use her against me, now would it?”

But she and the voice both knew that was all bull. She had saved Silverbolt because she couldn’t stand to see the disappointment and disillusionment in those innocent, naïve optics of his, couldn’t stand to know that she had dashed his hopes that she was a better ‘bot than she was. She was helping Fleetshade not only because she was a handy source of firepower but because Fleetshade had given the she-spider something she could never remember having: a friend, a confidant, somebot completely unbiased who would listen to her sorrows and understand. Somebot who would tell her how it was without hurting her or sucking up to her. Somebot she could go to when she just couldn’t be strong for herself anymore. Like last night.

And Airazor? Airazor was in the bargain simply because she would help Blackarachnia protect Fleetshade. Much as the spider hated Fleetshade being in the hands of the Maximals, she knew it was the only safe place for the girl.

And for some odd reason Blackarachnia trusted Airazor, at least for now, mostly because Airazor seemed as eager as she to protect Fleetshade. Why she didn’t know, but unless Airazor was a better actress than Blackarachnia herself, she seemed to have Fleetshade’s best interests at heart. And for now that was all that mattered.

Now that she had finally admitted to some of that, it seemed the weight on her mind was a bit lighter. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?’ the voice inside her mind asked.

“No,” Blackarachnia replied aloud with a wide yawn, “No, it wasn’t.”

Now that her processor wasn’t working a parsec a minute, Blackarachnia felt more tired than ever. She activated her security camera and stretched out on her bed. She shut off her optics, thinking ‘Slag it. Megs will send someone to wake me up if he misses me.’

And with that Blackarachnia fell asleep, the image of soft golden optics and strong feathery wings following her into her dreams.

Fleetshade followed Airazor into the control room, a bit worried about what the two of them might find.

Rattrap was leaning back in his control chair, hands behind his head, listening passively to his commander’s lecture. Silverbolt and Cheetor were sitting at monitors and watching the exchange. Rhinox was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Optimus was standing in the middle of the room, facing Rattrap.

“You should have known better than that,” Optimus reprimanded the smaller ‘bot. “We all knew she was damaged, and you’ve witnessed what she’s capable of when she’s distressed.”

Airazor scowled and started to step forward, but Fleetshade pulled her back into the shadows of the hallway. She wanted to hear what the males were going to say about her while they couldn’t see her. Airazor glanced at the neutral femme, nodded, and shrank back into the shadows as well.

“Yeesh, I was just kiddin’ around,” Rattrap whined. “No need to scorch my tail about it. So I offended her delicate sensibilities. I’ll stay away from her if that’s what she wants. Heh, she ain’t gonna be stayin’ long anyway.”

Optimus frowned. “How can you be so sure? We don’t even know why she’s here, let alone how long she’ll need to stay.”

“You really think it’s a good idea to let her stay here for long? I mean she could be a Pred spy for all we know. Just ‘cause she don’t have an energy sig don’t mean Megs hasn’t messed with her head.”

Out the corner of her vision Fleetshade saw Cheetor clench his fist. The young ‘bot was visibly restraining himself from commenting, having taken Airazor’s warning to heart. Even so, he looked ready to attack Rattrap if the spy said another word.

“It’s a possibility,” Optimus sighed, “but an unlikely one based on what we know. I think she’s asleep in Airazor’s quarters now. When she wakes up we’ll get her to explain who she is and why she’s here, and we’ll have to be satisfied with her answers. Just make sure you don’t offend her anymore, Rattrap. The last thing we need right now is for her to get upset and cause some sort of damage.”

Having heard enough, Fleetshade pulled away from the shadows with which she blended almost seamlessly and stepped into the control room. All heads swivelled to face her. Optimus had the grace to look embarrassed, but Rattrap rolled his optics.

“See?” the rat-bot said, rising from his chair. “She’s already eavesdroppin’ on us. Next thing ya know she’ll be stealin’ files and buggin’ our comlinks.” The rodent turned to grace Fleetshade with a mocking bow, his voice dripping sarcasm. “I believe I’ll take my leave now, to prevent any further offence to your sensitive nature. Excuse me.”

With that, Rattrap made to brush by the females and proceed down the hallway. Fleetshade bit her lip against a biting comeback, remembering what Airazor had said about Rattrap’s personality.

Instead the deer-bot caught Rattrap’s arm as he went by her, shocking him enough to make him stop dead and stare at her.

“Don’t go,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry I acted the way I did earlier. I-I wasn’t aware that you were joking . I’m…unfamiliar with your customs of humor and I overreacted. I’m-I’m sorry, Rattrap. You don’t have to leave.”

Stunned and slightly embarrassed, Rattrap cringed and pulled away from Fleetshade. He was sure for a moment there that the girl had been ready to kill him if he came near her, and then suddenly she had grabbed his arm and apologized? What did she have to apologize about, anyway?

Rattrap glanced at Airazor, who narrowed her optics at him as if to say your turn. The short spy glanced around the room and sure enough, everyone was watching him. Silverbolt raised his optic arches expectantly. They wanted him to apologize as well? Hah! Forget that.

Rattrap looked away from their prompting stares. He knew he needed to apologize, but not in front of everybody. He had an image to upkeep, after all!

“Apology accepted,” he replied coldly to Fleetshade before continuing on down the hall. He heard a series of sighs and Optimus’ voice saying, “That’s as good as you’ll get from him I’m afraid, Fleetshade, at least for now. He’ll warm up to you eventually. Now, since you’re awake, why don’t you….”

But the rest of what Optimus was saying was drowned out by the sound of clomping footsteps following Rattrap down the hall.

“Hey!”

The rat-bot swung around to see Cheetor snarling at him in true catlike fashion. The spy groaned and leaned against the wall, bracing himself for the onslaught.

“What’s your problem?” Cheetor demanded as soon as he was close enough to get into Rattrap’s face. “Why didn’t you just apologize to Fleetshade back there? You’ve already made yourself look like a total jerk in front of her, and now you’re making a bad name for the rest of us.”

“’The rest of us’ bein’ you,” Rattrap shot back, not in the mood for the youngster’s ignorant prattle. “You’re only worried that if I scare her away you won’t get the chance to make your move on ‘er.”

Cheetor froze for a nano, the look on his face one of stunned disbelief which quickly returned to anger. “I resent that. Just because you need to make yourself feel big by being rotten to Fleetshade doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

Rattrap was stung that Cheetor would think that of him, but he covered it with a snort. Trying to sound disdainful, he replied, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about kid, so why don’t you stop before I’m forced to hurt ya?”

Cheetor was silent for a few nanoklicks, fury and confusion warring in his features. Finally he snarled and said “Just watch your step, Rattrap. You’re right: I do care about Fleetshade. From what I hear she’s had a hard time of it, and she deserves for somebot to look out for her. So don’t mess with her. Or you’ll have to answer to me.”

Without another word, Cheetor turned on his heel and stalked back toward the command center, the words of his hollow threat echoing in Rattrap’s audios. Oh, Cheetor meant what he said: he would protect Fleetshade from getting hurt as best he could. The young ‘bot was also full of indignant steam at the moment and needed to blow it off with empty threats he never intended to carry out.

Which didn’t make Rattrap feel any less hurt or angry. He sighed and turned around, heading for the supply room. He needed to do something with his hands.

Half a megacycle later Rattrap was in a hall of the Axalon, tinkering with a faulty wall console that Rhinox had discovered earlier in the week and nobody had had a chance to fix. His mind was still in turmoil, which may have been the reason he welcomed a chance to snap at the first ‘bot that crossed his path.

Who, naturally, was Dinobot. The ex-Predacon brushed by Rattrap on his way to the command center and didn’t even make a snide comment, which was suspicious enough for Rattrap to glance up. Dinobot, it seemed, was trying his best not to let his exit be noticed.

“Well,” Rattrap said suddenly, causing Dinobot to jump in surprise, “if it ain’t the irascible raptor.”

Dinobot snarled in response but didn’t stop walking. “The base remains infested with vermin, I see,” the warrior growled.

Rattrap, undaunted, turned back to the console. “Yeah,” he muttered just loud enough for Dinobot to hear him, “not much changes around here. ‘Cept maybe the occasional allegiance.”

This got the swordsbot’s attention. He stopped short and turned toward Rattrap. The smaller ‘bot grunted.

“Found any golden discs lately?” Rattrap pressed. “Passed ‘em on to any Predacons?”

Dinobot hissed, but Rattrap recognized the slightly affronted look in the taller ‘bot’s optics: the barb had hit its mark. “I don’t need to explain my actions to you, Mouse,” Dinobot snarled.

Rattrap snorted, realizing he had been wanting to say this since he had seen Dinobot hand Megatron the golden disc. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he was unable to stop, driving the verbal knife in deeper and deeper.

“That’s right,” Rattrap returned, “ya don’t. ‘Cause they pretty much speak for themselves!”

Rattrap was oddly satisfied with the hurt look that crossed the warrior’s expression before fury clouded it over and the bigger ‘bot got right in his face.

“Go ahead, rodent. Push it one. More. Inch.”

Rattrap hesitated a moment. This exchange had just crossed the invisible line between the pair’s usual banter and the possibility of being genuinely hurtful. Before now the two had hardly ever crossed that line; did he dare now aggravate the raptor further?

Yes, he told himself, the saurian deserves to hear it straight from someone.

Rattrap took a deep breath and let all the hurt, confusion, disappointment and anger he had felt at the ex-Predacon’s betrayal find release through his words.

“Y’know, I used to figure I had you pegged. ‘He’s a slag-spoutin’ saurian, but at least ya know where he stands.’” Rattrap paused for a moment and flipped the tool he was holding in his hand, considering his next words: “Guess we live and learn, huh?”

Without another word, Rattrap slammed the repaired console closed and stalked off without looking back.

And somehow, hearing Dinobot’s enraged hiss from down the hallway, he didn’t feel as satisfied as he’d thought he would.

Blackarachnia hung uncomfortably from Waspinator’s dangling legs, flying toward the valley Megatron had given them the coordinates for earlier in the day.

She had fallen asleep that morning not five cycles before Inferno had begun pounding on her door, informing her ‘the Royalty’ required the presence of all his troops in the command center. She had emerged groggily into the main chamber a few cycles later and listened to Megatron’s orders: Rampage was to accompany him to a point specified by Megatron on the Predacon base’s main map, and the others were to prepare themselves for battle and follow. The tyrant had then left with Rampage – and the golden disc.

Megatron had obviously found some use for the relic, but what? Blackarachnia frowned as Waspinator buzzed along, wondering what the cause of the impending battle was. She welcomed the chance to blow off some steam on the Maximals, but would she be forced to fight Airazor? Blackarachnia didn’t consider herself an especially honourable ‘bot, but she didn’t want to break the truce the two femmes had established the night before, if only for Fleetshade’s sake.

Blackarachnia glanced at Quickstrike hanging beside her, carried by Inferno. All four Predacons were in beast mode, and all four were pumped for battle.

“Yee-haw!” Quickstrike exulted. “Hurry up! I’m itchin’ to inflict some damage!”

“Patience,” Inferno silenced the fuzor. “We have arrived.”

Blackarachnia looked ahead and sure enough there was Megatron, standing with Rampage on the lip of a forested valley not unlike the one Fleetshade had crashed in. Waspinator deposited her wordlessly on the ground next to the tyrant, then landed himself. Inferno and Quickstrike did the same, and all four transformed to robot mode, weapons out and fully loaded.

Blackarachnia looked around, confused. Where were the Maximals they were supposed to be battling? Had Megatron been mistaken?

“What’s the deal, Boss-Bot?” Quickstrike asked, “Where’re all the Maximals?”

“Ah, there will be no fighting Maximals today, my dear Quickstrike,” Megatron answered. “No, I have something much simpler for you to shoot at.”

Puzzled, Blackarachnia took a closer look at the valley, searching for what Megatron must mean. A group of animals, hunched and looking like some sort of primate, were traveling in a pack along the forest floor. A few birds flying around in the canopy, some squirrels chittering in the trees. Definitely nothing that looked like it was worth shooting at.

“What?” she asked.

“Those,” Megatron answered, pointing. “Those primates there. Those are the early evolutionary stage of humans, the race that was instrumental in the victory of the Autobots in the Great War.”

Raising his voice so that it carried in the still, warm air, Megatron continued: “Destroy this valley and everything in it. The human race will never have existed!”

Blackarachnia stared, dumbstruck, at the purple ‘bot. Was he insane? He intended to wipe out these proto-humans in an attempt to change the future? That was what the golden disc was all about?

Her comrades started forward into the valley, unloading their ammo into anything that moved. Not wanting to be left behind, Blackarachnia followed them, but made sure to miss any living creature she aimed at.

‘What are you doing?’ a part of her mind asked. ‘Shoot! You’re a Predacon, for Primus’ sake! You’re evil! You should have no problem with destroying innocent creatures.’

‘No,’ Another part of her responded. ‘This is different. I have no problem with taking out the Maximals; they’re my enemy and my job is to defeat them. And if I attack them they shoot back. Well, except for Silverbolt, but he could if he wanted to. But these creatures are defenseless and have done nothing to any of us. I may not have Maximal honor, but even I know that’s wrong.’

Berating herself for showing such a pathetic weakness, Blackarachnia caught Megatron looking at her. In light of her actions in the past few days, Megatron had constantly been watching her for some sign of rebellion or defiance. She didn’t want to try his patience again so soon, but she refused to follow his orders. The she-spider stared back at Megatron and he turned away with a “hrumph”.

Suddenly, Blackarachnia heard a screech behind her and to see Inferno engaged with – Dinobot?

‘Now that’s something I have no trouble shooting,’ Blackarachnia thought with a burst of relief; she was actually almost glad to see the Maximal. She opened fire with her arm-mounted machine guns, but Dinobot was quicker and swung Inferno up in front of him, blocking her shots. The ant-bot screamed as her ammo hit him, and she was just powering up her blaster for a better shot at the Maximal when she saw Inferno’s inert arm twitch.

Blackarachnia paused for the tiniest moment, undecided. She could dodge if she wanted, but it would suit her much better not to. In a split second, she decided to stay where she was, bracing herself for the hit.

Inferno’s blaster fired and hit her square in the chest, knocking her backwards through the air. She landed hard and felt her head connect with a sharp rock. ‘At least I won’t have to fake unconsciousness,’ she thought as she started to black out.

She had just enough time to wish the Maximal a silent good luck before her body shut down and there was nothing.