Plays of Shadow

By: Amber Dawn

Chapter 5: Not My Day

PG-13

Language

Disclaimer: I don’t own Beast Wars, Hasbro does.

Megatron was fuming, and to make things even worse, there wasn’t anyone left at the Predacon base to take it out on. None of his troops that had gone into that forest had returned, and radio contact was proving impossible. The energon storm had finally cleared up a few cycles ago, so the only other explanation for their continued lack of communication was that they were all off-line.

“There is something very wrong in that forest,” Megatron mused to himself, bringing up a visual on his view screen. “And I want to know what it is, yessss.”

“Computer,” he commanded, “scan the area around Sector Gamma for Maximal energy signatures.”

“Complying.”

There was a few moments' pause before the cool voice of the base’s computer answered, “Three Maximal energy signatures detected in Sector Gamma. Identities are unit: Dinobot, unit: Rattrap and unit: Optimus Primal.”

The view screen changed, splitting into two. Both halves zoomed in on areas of the forest. One showed the traitor Dinobot, barely online and severely damaged. Behind him Megatron could see the shadow of the crashed spacecraft. Megatron frowned, wondering what had caused that damage to the traitor. Was that what had happened to his troops as well?

The other half of the screen showed Optimus Primal in flight mode, closing in on Dinobot’s coordinates. The vermin rode aboard Primal’s hoverboard, clinging on for dear life. A rescue no doubt.

“Computer,” Megatron snapped after a few beats, “attempt to locate any unit with a Predacon energy signature in that Sector.”

Again, there was a few moments pause before the computer’s calm voice responded.

“Units: Inferno, Tarantulas, Quickstrike and Waspinator found. All units offline.”

The viewscreen changed again, but it wasn’t split. It was one picture, showing a pile of scrap that somewhat resembled his troops. This wasn’t the work of some mysterious force, no. This was the work of the Maximals.

With a roar of frustration, Megatron slammed his fist into the arm of his control chair.

“Damn them!” he shouted. “Why must I be surrounded by incompetents?”

Then a thought suddenly struck him.

“Computer,” he ordered, “attempt to locate unit: Blackarachnia.”

Megatron fumed while the computer searched. That scheming female had defied him once already this morning. What was she up to now?

“Unable to comply,” the computer stated. “Unit: Blackarachnia’s energy signature cannot be found in the immediate area. Expand search?”

“Don’t bother.” Megatron sighed. “She’s probably masked her signature somehow.”

The viewscreen returned to normal, and Megatron stared for a few nanoklicks at the moving blip that was Optimus Primal. He and the rodent were heading for Dinobot – and the wreck of that strange spacecraft.

“Today is just not my day,” Megatron complained as he rose. Exiting the Predacon base, he transformed to vehicle mode and rocketed away toward the forest.

Fleetshade woke suddenly, her optics already wide open. She raised her head, wondering what had awoken her. Was it time to work already? No. Something was wrong. Where was everyone? What was that strange light? Was it some new torture device the Masters had devised for them? If so, it wasn’t working: it was actually very pleasant. And warm. But where were her fellow slaves? Had she been taken to solitary confinement again? Or.…

No! Not that!

She sprung to her feet, ready to fight them this time. She would not be used again!

Then her optics came into focus and she saw the trees around her, felt the soft moss she stood on. And the fact that she was no longer a robot, but a deer. Everything that had happened came flooding back yet again and her thin legs buckled under her, causing her to sit hard on her rump.

She was free. She didn’t have to worry about the Masters and their tortures any more. She never had to be used again. She was free!

Fleetshade stood up again, a giddy laugh flowing from her. She couldn’t stop it; it just came and wouldn’t quit. She laughed for the pure joy of it, wondering when the last time had been that she had actually laughed just for the sake of laughing.

When was the last time she had felt soft, warm sunlight and a cool breeze as compared to the burning desert heat of Marajo? When was the last time she had woken up in a soft bed surrounded by the smells of the forest, rather than squashed on the floor between her fellow slaves in the dingy reek of the slave compound?

Not since she had been captured, that was for sure. And now she was free. An era of her life had passed, and she was beyond it. She could start anew, and if anyone told her otherwise she was more than willing to fight to the death to prove them wrong!

She took a deep breath, the deer’s keen sense of smell picking up every scent that was carried on the breeze. The sun was almost at its zenith, marking the midpoint of the day on this planet. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, but she was confident that it hadn’t been longer than three or four megacycles. That meant the days here were much shorter than the days on Marajo, which lasted 40 megacycles. The long days had meant long shifts working in the mines, up to 30 megacylces at a time. Fleetshade suspected that a whole day here wasn’t even that long.

Her beast mode also had an acute sense of hearing, and the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves and the sound of a nearby stream trickling over rocks reached her audio receptors with crystal clarity.

Still laughing uncontrollably at her newfound freedom, Fleetshade took a step forward. Then another. Then another, longer one. Before she knew it, she was running. The full speed and agility of her deer form became clear as she flew through the forest, leaping and bounding and dodging between trees and over fallen logs, in and out of the dappled forest shadows.

She broke suddenly through the trees on the edge of a small meadow and kept running. She didn’t worry about being exposed; Blackarachnia had told her that she couldn’t be detected. And besides, what was so strange about a deer dancing about on a glorious summer day?

And dancing was exactly what she was doing. She leaped and bucked, twisted and circled, rolled and pranced around in the long meadow grass, soaking up the sun and the air and the sweet gift of freedom she had waited so long for.

Fleetshade’s childhood had been cut short, stripped away by the harsh realities of the mines. But now, leaping around so light-footed she seemed to be flying, she felt like a child again: innocent, pure and free to dream. The dark memories of her time as a slave seemed to fade in the bright noon light, not gone for good but dimmed to nothing by her jubilation.

A laugh still poured forth from her, augmented by her increasingly labored breathing as she worked her new body to the limit. Finally, out of breath and dizzy from circling around, she flopped down in the long grass and closed her large deer optics – or eyes, as they were called.

Only a few moments passed this way before Fleetshade’s large, pointed ears perked at the sound of something approaching.

She tensed: the deer wasn’t a predator, and so she assumed it was pretty low on the forest food chain. In her good spirits, she had forgotten about the danger of exposing herself not just to other Transformers but to natural forest predators.

“Fantastic show,” said a high-pitched voice from a few meters away.

Relaxing and getting to her feet, Fleetshade blushed slightly at Blackarachnia’s comment. The spider had obviously seen her dance and had waited until now to show herself, letting Fleetshade work out her emotion before ruining it. Fleetshade was grateful for this, and surprised at the she-spider’s sensitivity.

“Hey,” the deer-bot greeted. “Thanks.”

Then she noticed the web sack attached to Blackarachnia’s hindquarters.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Blackarachnia sighed and transformed, detaching herself from the webbing.

Fleetshade stepped up for a closer look and stopped suddenly, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. She recognized the parts from the ship she had stolen. They were vital pieces of the ship’s mechanics, which meant….

“It’s totaled, isn’t it?” she asked quietly, the reality of her predicament settling in like a lead weight.

Blackarachnia nodded gravely.

“I looked, I really did. There was no way it was going to fly again. I salvaged what I could, but this was about it. I’m sorry.”

“Then I really am trapped here,” Fleetshade whispered as the implications of her situation struck her spark like arrows.

She wasn’t going to find her family. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was stuck here on this strange planet in the middle of a war she knew nothing about, and she had no means of leaving. Suddenly she didn’t feel so happy to be free.

“I’m sorry,” Blackarachnia repeated, her head lowered. Fleetshade couldn’t tell if the spider was being sincere, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t possibly understand what Fleetshade was feeling anyway.

They passed a few cycles in silence.

“So what’re you going to do now?” Fleetshade finally asked, looking up and catching Blackarachnia’s optics. The spider cringed and shrugged.

“I’d better head back to base,” she said sourly. “I’ve blocked my energy sig from Megatron for a while using this little gizmo-” Blackarachnia produced a small bug-like contraption from inside a subspace compartment, “-that I stole from Tarantulas. But considering all his other troops are down for the count thanks to the Maximals, Megatron’s gonna be looking to sear someone’s skidplate. And you can bet that someone’ll be me if I don’t report in and help him salvage the rest of them. In fact, he’s probably on his way now.”

With that, Blackarachnia reverted to beast mode again and shifted her weight, hesitating as if she wanted to say something more but was unsure how to phrase it.

Fleetshade didn’t bother asking who Tarantulas was; she assumed it was another Predacon. From what she had gleaned from Cheetor and Quickstrike, this Megatron guy was the leader of the Predacons. And he didn’t sound too pleasant.

Now that Fleetshade thought about it, she wished she had got to listen to more of Cheetor’s story. Maybe he would have provided a few more answers about where exactly she was and what was going on.

‘Too late now,’ Fleetshade thought. Instead, she looked the web sack over warily. “What are you going to do with that?” she asked.

“I was hoping you’d hide it for me until I can find a permanent place to set up shop,” the she-spider sighed, looking relieved that the subject had come up. “Think you could do that for me?”

“I suppose,” Fleetshade agreed amiably, “That’s what trees are for, after all.”

Blackarachnia gave her a spider grin, but the expression was strained.

Fleetshade took a closer look at Blackarachnia for the first time and realized the spider’s beast form was riddled with burns and scorch marks. She was breathing a bit heavily and she favored a few of her eight legs.

“You okay?” Fleetshade asked concernedly, picking her way through the tall grass to look Blackarachnia over more closely.

“I’m fine,” the spider snapped. “Your ship was still a bit on the hot side, and I was attacked while I was searching for spare parts. I’m just a bit overheated, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Something about the way Blackarachnia had said “I’ll be fine” didn’t sound like the spider expected to be fine, but Fleetshade didn’t push it. After all, she had only known Blackarachnia for a few megacycles.

“Okay,” Fleetshade said quietly, moving toward the web that held what remained of her ship. She wondered if the rest of it would be destroyed or simply left in the forest to rust. She knew she couldn’t go back to it, or she’d risk being found by either the Maximals or the Predacons. She didn’t like the idea of being forced to reformat, so she figured it was best to stay in the woods for a while.

Blackarachnia interrupted Fleetshade’s thoughts by clearing her throat. Fleetshade looked up and saw Blackarachnia preparing to depart. The spider femme lifted one leg in a salute.

“See ya around, Fleetshade. And a word of warning: don’t let your guard down again. Most enemies won’t wait for you to finish prancing before killing you – or worse.”

Fleetshade nodded, embarrassed, and watched Blackarachnia leave.

When the spider’s frame had disappeared into the forest shadows, Fleetshade sighed and wondered just what she was going to do now. She was trapped, stranded here on this planet. Oh, it was sure as the Matrix better than the Marajan wasteland, but it mattered little as she was just as far from finding her family here as she had been in the mines.

For the first time since the crash, Fleetshade allowed her mind to wander to what might be going on at that moment on Marajo. Had the Masters been completely destroyed? What had become of her fellow former slaves? What had become of 28-H5G, the closest thing to a friend Fleetshade had had during her time as a slave?

Primus knew, she decided, and that was good enough for her. She sent a silent prayer of well-being to those she had shared most of her captive life with, wishing them the best of luck in whatever it was they were doing now.

And as for herself…Fleetshade sighed as she started to push the web sack into the cover of the trees. She would need all the luck she could get.

Optimus sighed and wondered why of all people he had chosen to take Rattrap with him on this rescue mission. His logic circuits must be crossed this morning, the ape-bot thought direly as Rattrap’s claws dug into his leg.

“Y’know, I can’t understand why Cheetor gets all hyped about this flyin’ gig,” the transmetal rodent whined, balanced precariously behind Optimus on the Maximal leader’s hoverboard. “It’s not really all it’s cut out ta beeeeyaahh!”

Rattrap squealed as Optimus banked a sharp right, causing the Maximal leader to smile despite himself.

“You could have gone on the ground,” Optimus reminded Rattrap, “but you agreed that this way would be faster.”

“It is!” Rattrap defended himself. “That don’t mean I like it.”

Just then, Optimus’ comlink crackled to life.

“This is Rhinox to Optimus. We’ve got another problem.”

Optimus squeezed his optics shut and sighed. Not again.

“Prime,” he replied. “What now?”

“Well, it seems like we might not be the only ones who figured out that the newcomer is partial to females. Dinobot said he found Blackarachnia, and that she got away into the forest. Silverbolt thinks she may be trying to find our newcomer and convince her to join the Predacons.”

Optimus heard Rattrap groan from behind him, and felt like joining him in the sentiment.

“We’ll keep our optics peeled for her then,” Optimus said into his comlink. “That’s all we can do until Airazor arrives. Let’s just hope she gets here as quickly as possible.”

“Okay,” Rhinox responded slowly, “Maybe Cheetor could…Cheetor?”

There was a pause.

“Slag,” Rhinox said, with feeling. “Cheetor’s gone. He’s probably heading for your location. Might wanna keep an optic out for him, too, while you’re at it.”

“Will do,” Optimus said stonily before breaking the link.

“That kid can’t just stay put and follow orders, can he?” Rattrap asked, echoing Optimus’ own thoughts. Although the Maximal leader refrained from mentioning that Rattrap had hardly ever set a prime example for following orders.

The rock face fell away below them, revealing the jungle valley where the strange ship had crashed. The burned, blackened swath the ship had cut in the trees was visible even from this distance. Optimus slowed and began to descend toward the ugly scar on the valley, keeping his optics roaming over the trees.

The crashed ship loomed like a beached whale in the scorched forest, its blackened metal finish looking distinctly out of place among the lush trees and ferns. As they drew closer, Optimus’ optics were drawn to movement in the clearing where they had fought earlier.

“Looks like ‘ole Megs has finally come outta his hole to round up the troops,” Rattrap chuckled.

Optimus nodded, zooming in on the clearing. Megatron was indeed there, and he didn’t seem happy. He was in robot mode, yelling at someone who was blocked from view. Optimus didn’t want to get close enough to find out who it was.

“Hold on,” he said to Rattrap before peeling into a steep dive. Rattrap gasped and clung to the larger Maximal’s leg, and the ape-bot was glad the wind blocked most of what Rattrap was muttering from his audio processors.

Optimus slowed as they neared the ground, coming to a smooth halt a few hundred meters from the clearing. Rattrap slid off the hoverboard and fell the few feet to the ground, landing sprawled in some moss with a heavy sigh of relief. Optimus transformed to robot mode and landed with a faint thump beside him.

“We’ll approach the ship from the other side,” Optimus instructed quietly. “I don’t want to run into Megatron right now, especially if he managed to get some of his troops back online.”

Rattrap nodded silently and transformed to robot mode himself, pulling out his gun. Together the two Maximals trudged forward as quietly as possible, following the sight of the ship sticking up through the canopy but keeping its bulk between them and the clearing where Megatron was.

As they approached, Optimus spotted Dinobot lying in beast mode a few meters from the ship, which had a large hole blasted in it. The few strands of blue webbing clinging to the hole confirmed Dinobot’s report: Blackarachnia had been here.

Optimus trudged over to the fallen ex-Predacon as quietly as possible, hearing Megatron’s livid roaring from the clearing. Ignoring the shouts, the Maximal leader bent down to examine Dinobot.

The warrior was in pretty bad shape. He was badly overheated and looked to have sustained some heavy damage to his face. His optics were leaking mech fluid and he was out cold.

“Rattrap,” Optimus hissed. When he got no response he sighed and turned to see Rattrap raise a hand for silence, a finger to his lips.

Frowning, Optimus strained to listen. What was jamming Rattrap’s circuits? Optimus didn’t hear anything. Birds chirping, a woodpecker pecking…nothing but the normal forest sounds.

Wait! Optimus’ optics widened. Nothing but the forest sounds! Megatron had stopped shouting, and heavy footsteps could be heard coming their way.

Before he could react, Megatron’s voice sounded from the other side of the ship.

“You’re sure nothing could be recovered?”

Glancing down at Dinobot’s prone form lying in the moss, Optimus thought quickly. Beckoning for Rattrap to help him, Optimus hoisted Dinobot from the undergrowth, cringing when the warrior’s joints creaked. But Megatron and his companion didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes, I’m positive. You’ve asked me a dozen times! I’m telling you, it’s scrapped. Better to just destroy it before the Maximals find some use for it!”

Optimus and Rattrap traded looks. That voice had belonged to Blackarachnia. Well, that was one search completed. Dinobot had probably been mistaken, and she hadn’t moved from the clearing after all.

Optimus looked around, wondering about the she-spider’s last comment. Dinobot had been assigned to look for useable parts in the ship, but if he had encountered Blackarachnia he might not have had any time to look around. Maybe they should….

No. Optimus didn’t want to get in a fight with Megatron over the ship right now. It didn’t matter if the spider was telling the truth; their first priority was to get Dinobot back to base for repairs. Optimus would question him about what he found afterwards. Now, to figure out how to get out of there.

There was only one thing for it, he thought. Use the element of surprise for as long as they could.

“I can’t carry the both of you,” Optimus breathed, so quietly he wasn’t even sure if Rattrap heard him. “You’re going to have to go by land.”

Rattrap looked relieved, to say the least.

“Fine by me,” the rat-bot whispered back. “So we just make a break for it and hope we can be outta here before Megs can get a clear shot?”

“Basically, yes,” Optimus responded, preparing himself. “Optimus Primal – flight mode!”

He transformed as quietly as possible, shifting Dinobot to his shoulder for better maneuverability.

“What was that?” Megatron’s voice asked.

“Rattrap – vehicle mode!”

Rattrap’s transformation was a bit louder, and then he was revving up for a fast retreat. Suddenly, Megatron's head came around the ship, looking surprised to find a trio of Maximals within laser range. But by that time, Optimus had risen up over the canopy and was speeding away as fast as he could with Dinobot slung over his shoulder. Looking down, the Maximal leader could see Rattrap burning out on some moss before finally getting a good start.

Optimus banked left as a laser shot from Megatron came barrelling past him. The chase was on.

Optimus waited for the inevitable pursuit, but it never came. He looked back and saw nothing. Rattrap roared along on the ground below, a ways behind the transmetal ape, but also free of pursuit. It seemed Megatron was more interested in securing the ship and repairing his troops than giving chase.

Optimus activated his comlink, remembering one more order of business that had to be completed.

“Optimus to Cheetor,” he commanded. “Come in, Cheetor. Where are you?”

No response. Well, that was just Prime. Shaking his head in exasperation, Optimus switched frequencies.

“Rattrap, come in.”

“Yo. Is it just me, or was that way too easy?”

“I think Megatron’s more interested in getting his troops back online than in chasing us right now. I tried contacting Cheetor, but he won’t respond. Would you-“

“Aw, come on!” Rattrap interrupted. “This is the second time today I’m getting’ sent out after that kid! I’m getting’ sick of this. Can’t we just leave him out there?”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say. If you had let me finish, you’d know that. I was going to ask you to-WHOA!”

Optimus was suddenly blown roughly forwards by a wave of heat that sent him plummeting toward the ground below. Dinobot flew from his grasp and fell as well. Rattrap’s garbled shout of surprise and pain flowed out of Optimus’ comlink before the connection went dead, drowned out by the roar of an explosion.

Optimus cried out as he fell, his hoverboard spinning out from under him. He hit the ground and skidded with a screech of metal on stone. Raising his head and turning back toward the jungle, the Maximal leader saw his fears realized: the place where the ship had been was now a burning crater. Nearby trees were aflame, wafting plumes of black smoke into the air. Debris littered the ground for miles, large chunks of metal and other materials visible even from Optimus’ vantage atop the rock cliff.

“Well, that puts a damper on my plans for a tree fort,” Rattrap quipped as he idled to a stop a few feet from Optimus. Dinobot lay a few meters away, unmoving and looking the worse for his fall.

Optimus wasn’t feeling so good either, but he managed to stagger to his feet.

“Let’s just get back to base,” the Maximal leader groaned, picking up his damaged hoverboard. “This is just not our day.”