Plays of Shadow

By: Amber Dawn

Chapter 6: Transformation

PG-13

Language

Disclaimer: Beast Wars doesn’t belong to me

Cheetor raised his head and groaned. He felt like he had been stuck into one of Megatron’s lava pits. His whole form was practically glowing with heat, and his internal systems felt melted.

“Woah,” he rasped. “That was some explosion.”

The transmetal cheetah had been flying over the jungle, attempting to locate the new femme when the ship that she had arrived in had erupted into a massive nova of heat and flying wreckage.

Cheetor pushed himself to his feet, examining his beast mode for signs of injury. One of his back legs was singed and his tail appeared to have melted in places; the explosion had caught him from behind. His injuries hurt, but they weren’t life-threatening. Yet.

“Aww, man,” Cheetor complained, “this stinks. I’m in no condition to be searching for anything but an ‘R chamber right now. Optimus is gonna kill me when he finds out I ran off.”

Just then, realization struck. Optimus and Rattrap had gone out to look for Dinobot, who had been posted near the ship! What if they hadn’t reached Dinobot in time? Or worse yet, what if they had reached him in time, and they had all been caught in the explosion?

Preferring not to think about it, Cheetor shook his head to clear it and took a tentative step forward, putting some weight on is back leg.

“Yeowwrr!” he growled as his leg buckled in pain. “Not a good idea. Well, if I can’t walk, I can’t run. And if I can’t run, I can’t fly.”

In desperation, Cheetor tried to engage his jets, only to be rewarded with a whirring, grinding noise instead.

“Flight systems severely damaged,” his internal computer informed him unnecessarily.

“Great,” Cheetor griped, and activated his comlink.

“Communication systems also damaged. Circuitry overheated. Stasis lock will commence in ten point three cycles.”

Cheetor let out a cat grumble that sounded like a growl.

Just then, he heard a noise like a sharp intake of breath from behind him. Swinging around, his optics caught sight of a deer peering out at him from the shadows of the forest. The creature took a step toward him, as if it were curious.

‘That’s funny,’ he thought, ‘deer are prey animals, and I’m a big predator. You’d think it would run away.’

The deer stopped a few feet from him, large eyes shining warily and its muscles tensed and ready to flee.

‘Too late,’ Cheetor thought. ‘If I decided to attack now, it wouldn’t be able to outrun me. I wonder if it knows I’m injured? Or maybe I look funny, since I’m a transmetal, and not a normal cheetah.’

As he was thinking this, the doe lowered her head and cocked it inquisitively, those large, shining eyes looking straight through him.

Those eyes reminded him of something. Or was it someone? Cheetor shook his head. His circuitry must be more damaged then he thought. Who could he possibly know with eyes like that?

“Cheetor?”

Cheetor squeezed his optics shut then opened them again. That deer had not just spoken to him. This was getting stupid; he really needed repairs. He growled at the creature, and it took a few hasty steps back.

“Guess not,” it muttered, and turned to leave.

“Wha-?”

It really had spoken! And there was something familiar about that voice. And the eyes….

“It’s you!” he gasped, and the deer turned around again to eye him frightfully.

“It’s you,” he repeated, wondering if he had just imagined it and he was now talking to himself. “The pilot! I didn’t know you had a beast mode! Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I should have told you I had reinforcements coming, I - don’t hurt me.”

Cheetor suddenly remembered about the femme’s energon-beam weapon and cringed, waiting for her to attack. Although she didn’t look so menacing in full light, and as a doe.

The deer gave him the equivalent to a sympathetic grimace.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she said, “and you don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have reacted so much like a…girl. I was a bit flustered, and I didn’t know who to trust. I still don’t....”

The girl trailed off, seeming to realize she had said too much.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he replied, trying to reassure her and keep her talking. “No hard feelings. I would have done the same.”

She remained silent for a few moments, seeming to hesitate.

“Do you want to reprogram me?” she blurted, then looked away.

Confused, Cheetor frowned and shook his head. “No. Why would I want to reprogram you?”

She relaxed visibly and looked at him again, most of the fear gone from her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Silly question. Can we just start over?”

“Sure,” Cheetor replied. “My name’s Cheetor.”

“Hi,” she replied, bending a front leg and extending the other in a small bow, “My name’s Fleetshade. You’re right, I didn’t have this beast form last time we met. A – friend - helped me get it.”

A friend. Unh. Cheetor thought he had some idea who this ‘friend’ might have been, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to go and insult the girl again now that she had given him a second chance.

“Nice to meet you, Fleetshade. That’s a pretty name.”

“Uh, thanks.” Was it just the light, or did the deer look embarrassed?

“So where-Agh!” Cheetor cried out as sparks erupted all over his feline frame.

“Stasis lock will commence in one point five cycles.”

“You’re hurt,” Fleetshade cried in alarm, “what happened?”

“I got caught in the air when your ship exploded. My circuits got pretty melted, and I can’t contact my base.”

“Stasis lock will commence in twenty nanoklicks.”

“Fleetshade,” Cheetor gasped as his legs gave out, landing him sprawled on the ground, “help-“

But he couldn’t finish, for at that moment his internal computer put him into stasis lock and he blacked out.

Blackarachnia sneered at Quickstrike, who had just emerged from one of the Predacon Base’s CR tanks.

“Megatron wants to see you,” she spat, not giving the fuzor a chance to say anything. “Now.”

Quickstrike paused, giving the she-spider an inquiring look. She hissed at him and he left for Megatron’s ‘throne room’, mumbling something about female mood swings.

Blackarachnia paced the large room that contained the CR tanks, waiting to deliver the same message to the others as they emerged.

She had arrived back at the clearing after seeing Fleetshade just in time. No sooner had she had a look around than Megatron had showed up, ruining her plans to destroy the ship and make it look like Dinobot did it.

The tyrannical t-rex had treated her to a furious tongue-lashing regarding not following orders, which consisted of the usual slag.

“I will not tolerate any further disobedience from you,” he had snarled. “And I don’t even want to know how you managed to block your energy signature from me, no! This is the last time you defy me, Blackarachnia!”

Of course, he had told her that countless times in the past. She was confident that he would never destroy her, as she was a huge advantage for him both in battle and as a spy. Not to mention he obviously lusted after her, but Blackarachnia was careful never to point that little fact out.

However, that didn’t rule out other, more painful punishment, and Megatron had been absolutely livid. So she had nodded and played the remorseful spider. “I’m so terribly sorry I didn’t contact you, I was battling Dinobot inside the ship. No, there was nothing of value to be recovered. Best to simply destroy the ship before the Maximals or worse, Tarantulas, find some obscure use for it.”

She wasn’t sure if Megatron believed her, but that didn’t matter. As long as she could keep him away from the ship so that he couldn’t discover the missing parts she had stolen, she would be fine. Thus, she had tried to convince him to destroy it.

Then the Maximals had showed up. Catching sight of that vermin Rattrap, Blackarachnia had got an idea. She had dug around in her subspace compartment for the emergency charges she always carried with her, for just this sort of occasion. Finding them, she had glued them to the ship’s hull and set them to explode in three cycles.

Megatron had wanted to go after the Maximals, but Blackarachnia had batted her optics and convinced him that a battle would be useless now, and that their priority should be getting their comrades repaired. He had caved, and together they had dragged Quickstrike, Inferno, Waspinator and – after a slight hesitation – Tarantulas away from the ship just in the nick of time.

The charges had blown the ship’s remains sky high, knocking them all to the ground. Blackarachnia had innocently pinned the explosion on Rattrap who, everyone knew, was a demolition expert.

The forest was thankfully much closer to the Darkside than to the Maximal base, and they had managed to get back to base and dump their comrades into CR vats before too long. Megatron had left promptly for his command center, leaving Blackarachnia under orders to send the rest of them on once they had been repaired.

So far Waspinator, Inferno and Quickstrike had emerged, leaving only Tarantulas. The spider had taken quite a beating from Dinobot, and his repairs were taking some time. That was fine with her; she didn’t want to deal with Ole Gruesome any sooner than she had to.

As if the thought had summoned the ‘bot, there was a soft whir as the platform of the last vat rose, revealing a sparkly new Tarantulas.

Though the same could not be said for his mood.

“Megatron wants you,” she said flatly by way of greeting as the transmetal spider got to his feet.

“Nice to see you too,” Tarantulas sneered, jumping on a hoverboard. “And I’m afraid Megatron will have to wait. I have more important things to attend to.”

“Not a good idea, Legs. Grapeface is pretty steamed, and I’m responsible for getting you in there. I suggest you go give your report, or it’ll be my skid on the line.”

“Precisely the idea,” Tarantulas stated nastily as his hoverboard started away in the opposite direction.

“Not so fast, creep,” Blackarachnia replied and pulled out her missile launcher. Aiming it at Tarantulas, she lassoed him with her grappling line and gave it a good yank, pulling the trapped spider off the hoverboard and back toward the platform she stood on.

“Witch! You’ll pay for that!”

“You know what, I’m sure I will. But for now, how ‘bout you tell me what’s so important that you have to be rushing away so quickly?”

“None of your business!” he sneered, untangling himself from the line.

“Aw, but I thought we were partners,” she purred. Though she hated to admit it, Tarantulas scared the living spark out of her. During the time they had shared minds, she had picked up on a lot more of his thoughts than he was probably aware of. She knew what sort of sick fantasies brewed in that ugly processor of his, and just thinking about them made her shiver.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t taunt him. In fact, she loved playing with him. She loved seeing how far she could push before he reacted, often violently. There had been a few close calls with his temper, but she could defend herself. Of course it had occurred to her that her luck might run out one day, but that was the whole fun of it! Dancing with Tarantulas was a delicious game of chance, one she enjoyed immensely – within reason.

“I am not your partner, witch,” he replied, stepping in close so that he loomed over her, his face inches from hers, “I am your creator and while we may no longer share minds, I still know how to control you. So tread lightly, or you may find out just how serious I am.”

Deciding the situation had just gone beyond reason, Blackarachnia stepped back and lowered her gaze, allowing him to leave. Once he was safely out of weapon range, she activated her communicator.

“Just remember, partner, I can be serious, too.”

There was no answer, but she wasn’t expecting one.

Dinobot woke up to the sound of the CR chamber hissing open.

Opening a bleary optic, Dinobot affirmed that he was indeed back at the Maximal base. Optimus, Rhinox, Silverbolt and Rattrap were all there, and Dinobot could tell that something was wrong. He had no recollection of anything beyond losing his sight in the battle with that wretched spider female. An embarrassing defeat, to say the least. He thought he remembered radioing for help, but he couldn’t be sure.

Rattrap was the first to notice Dinobot’s emergence. The rodent looked over his shoulder and narrowed his optics at the raptor. “’Bout time you got outta there.”

“What’s happening?” Dinobot asked the room at large, pointedly ignoring the vermin.

Optimus turned to him with a sigh. “Cheetor’s missing. He ran off shortly after you called in. Rattrap and I went looking for you, and on the way back, that ship you were guarding blew up. By the time we got you back to base we thought Cheetor would have shown up, but no such luck. He’s not answering his comlink and it’s been over seven megacycles since he went missing.”

The Maximal commander looked positively stressed. Glancing at a viewscreen, Dinobot noted that it was already evening. He had spent most of the afternoon in the CR chamber, then.

“If you’re so concerned,” Dinobot pointed out, “Why didn’t you send someone out to find him?”

“We did,” Optimus said, “Silverbolt flew out as soon as we got back, but he didn’t find him. Not a trace.”

“You think the Predacons have taken him hostage?” Dinobot hazarded.

“Maybe,” Optimus replied, “Or maybe not.”

Dinobot didn’t like to think that Cheetor had been killed in the explosion. He had never been especially close to the young Maximal, but it would be a pity to lose a comrade in such a way. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“I see,” Dinobot said slowly, but before he could go on there was a crackle and the base’s central comlink came to life.

“Hey, base,” said a voice that Dinobot had thought he wouldn’t hear again for a long time, “I’m just approaching your coordinates. Mind opening the roof hatch for me?”

“Sure thing, Bird Lady,” Rattrap replied, tapping a few buttons. The roof hatch over the command center hissed open.

Surprised, Dinobot frowned. “I thought Airazor was with Tigatron searching for stasis pods, far east of here.”

“Yeah,” said Rattrap, “But we called her back this mornin' to help us deal with the problem that landed in that ship. But of course you wouldn’t know that, ‘cause you was out getting’ your skid kicked by a girl!”

“Why, you little-“

Dinobot was halfway through his lunge at Rattrap when a shadow passed over the room and Airazor came soaring in through the open roof hatch to land with a click of talons on the floor. Optimus held out a hand to stop Dinobot, who growled at Rattrap. Rattrap stuck out his tongue. Trust the vermin to take the mature approach.

Airazor transformed to robot mode and looked around at them all, a smile creeping to her lips. Dinobot saw her take in the scene before her: Rattrap cringing in his chair, Dinobot snarling at him, Optimus standing between them, and Silverbolt and Rhinox looking on with amusement.

“Bad time?” the female asked glibly.

“Actually, you couldn’t have come at a better time,” Optimus replied with a warning look at Rattrap, who shrugged.

Airazor immediately sobered. “Right. So what’ve I missed? And where’s Cheetor?”

Optimus took a deep breath and proceeded to fill Airazor in on the day’s events, right up to the explosion of the ship and the ensuing, unsuccessful search for Cheetor.

“So,” Optimus finished, “This new ‘bot said some pretty strange things. For example, she appears to have a severe case of amnesia. She doesn’t remember her own name or her allegiance. She also appears to have a deep-seated fear of the opposite gender. Perhaps bad experiences. But we thought that, as a female, you could help find her and bring her around to our cause.”

Everyone was silent for a few nanocycles.

“So,” Airazor said slowly, “You called me up for this mission for the sole reason that I’m female?”

There was something dangerous in the falcon-bot’s eyes that Dinobot didn’t like. He automatically reached for his weapon.

Optimus cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “We did. Please, don’t mistake this as some sexist-“

“Oh no, Optimus, why would I think of this as sexist?” Airazor interrupted, her voice dripping sarcasm, “I see what you’re all about now. And what if this poor girl doesn’t react any differently to females than to males? What if she really doesn’t have an allegiance?”

“What?” Rattrap blurted, “No allegiance? You’ve gotta be joking! Everybot knows that you’re either a Maximal or a Pred, no in-betweens. Well, except for Choppafa-”

“No,” Optimus sighed, holding up a hand to silence the vermin as Dinobot growled, “She’s right. There’s always been talk of neutral colonies in distant systems, that support neither faction. It’s a popular rumor, but even if they did exist, surely they’ve all been raided or destroyed by now.”

Airazor shrugged, still looking angry.

“Who knows? But it’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

A heavy silence prevailed.

“I’ll go find your pilot, Optimus,” Airazor finally said quietly, “But not for you. For her, because she’s probably scared out of her mind right now. And if you’re right, and Blackarachnia’s got to her…” Airazor shivered, “Then she might be worse than scared. I’ll keep an optic out for Cheetor, too.”

With that, Airazor transformed and flapped out of the still-open roof hatch, clipping Silverbolt with her wing on the way out.

“So,” Rhinox stated heavily as Silverbolt rubbed his shoulder indignantly, “That went well.”

“Ugh,” Airazor grunted disgustedly, “Just figures. The one time I think maybe I might have earned some tiny measure of respect…right back to this. ‘Go find the female, Airazor ‘cause you’re a female, too. She’s bound to listen to you.’ That’s great. That’s just peachy.”

Airazor flew over the forest, gliding on the thermals from the last of the sun’s heat. Her sharp falcon optics zoomed in on the forest floor as she soared along, canvassing the forested valley. The middle of the forest looked like a war zone. The place where the ship had been was a large, blackened crater and the trees had been scorched for hundreds of meters on both sides. The morning’s rain had prevented the fire from spreading, but the explosion had still done some serious damage.

Airazor was angry. Of course she was angry. She had a right to be angry. She hated to admit it, but when Optimus had called her in personally, without Tigatron, she had felt a surge of pride. She had thought maybe he needed her flight skills to foil some aerial plot of Megatron’s, or maybe he needed her sharp eyesight to do some long-range recon. She had assumed, not without reason, that Optimus had called her back because of her skills and prowess. Not because of her gender disposition!

In her fury, Airazor almost missed it. Zooming in closer, Airazor did a double take. There among the trees, glinting in the last of the sun’s rays, was something that looked like blue metal.

“Hmmm,” Airazor hummed to herself, “Looks like I may have found Cheetor.”

Banking sharply, Airazor turned and wheeled downwards to get a closer look. It was definitely Cheetor, and he was lying sprawled half-hidden under a rock overhang. If she hadn’t had her heightened falcon vision and if the sun hadn’t been shining at just this angle, it would have been impossible to spot the transmetal form glinting in the light. No wonder Silverbolt hadn’t found him.

But what was that leaning over him? It looked like a deer, and its jaw was moving. But what was it eating? There was no low-growing vegetation in that area of the woods.

“Unless it’s not just a deer,” Airazor thought out loud, coming in for another pass, “But that’s ridiculous. Optimus said that she didn’t have a beast mode when they found her. And yet….”

Airazor took a final swoop downwards, perching on the top branch of a tree above where Cheetor lay. The doe was still moving her jaw, but it was now apparent there was nothing in her mouth. Straining her audios, Airazor heard that the doe was indeed talking, but not to Cheetor. To herself.

“Oh, this is useless! It’s been seven megacycles. He should have started self-repairs by now! Oh Primus, Cheetor, hold on….”

Airazor started at the strained sound of the deer-femme’s voice. This must be the pilot everyone was looking for, and it sounded as if she had found Cheetor shortly after he had disappeared. Had she been here all afternoon, just standing there looking at him?

Making a split-second decision, Airazor lifted herself from her perch to flap quietly to the ground. The deer saw her coming and gasped, but like any deer she was frozen with fear and simply stood there staring as Airazor came in for a landing a few meters away.

Airazor folded her wings casually and waited. After a few moments the doe blinked and took a few steps back, but didn’t flee. She peered curiously at Airazor for a few beats, as if trying to decide what to make of this large bird that had just intruded on her space.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively.

“Hi,” Airazor replied. The doe jumped about a foot in the air and fled back another few steps, then seemed to collect herself. She turned around again to face Airazor, taking a defensive posture over Cheetor’s prone form. ‘Interesting,’ Airazor thought with a smile, ‘She’s protective of him.’

“It’s okay,” she assured the girl, “I don’t want to hurt either of you. But I would like to take Cheetor there back to base for repairs, and you too if you need it.”

“I’m fine,” the girl snapped too quickly, then cocked her head. “You’re a M-maximal, then? Like him?”

“That’s right,” Airazor said politely, “My name is Airazor. May I ask yours?”

The doe paused for a few seconds. Airazor recalled Optimus saying the girl couldn’t remember her name.

“Fleetshade,” she finally said, “My name is Fleetshade.”

Airazor would have smiled, if birds could smile. Fleetshade. Fleet shadow. It suited the deer form well, but the femme herself? She’d have to see.

Taking the introduction as a good sign, Airazor transformed to robot mode. Fleetshade’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move.

“Maybe you should transform too,” Airazor suggested gently. Was the girl really that addled, that she didn’t have the sense to return to a more powerful form?

Fleetshade looked down. “That’s the problem,” she said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Airazor frowned. “You don’t know how? All you have to do is speak your activation code, like I did. I’m a Maximal, so I say, ‘Airazor, Maximize’.”

“But I’m not a Maximal,” Fleetshade responded patiently, “and I’m not a Predacon, either. When she gave me this beast mode, I didn’t think about trying to get out….”

“She?” Airazor asked, already knowing the answer.

Fleetshade started. “Um, nobody. Just talking to myself. Forget it.”

Airazor decided to let it go. Fleetshade had just said herself that she wasn’t a Predacon, so even if Blackarachnia had tampered with her, the spider hadn’t reprogrammed her. Airazor glanced at Cheetor’s still form, and for the first time she grew wary. For all she knew, Fleetshade could have shot Cheetor, and was now waiting for her to let her guard down. She glanced around the trees; the forest was growing darker by the cycle. Was this a trap, an ambush?

“I’m alone,” Fleetshade said acidly, bringing Airazor’s attention back to the girl. The falcon-bot blushed.

“I-I’m sorry, Fleetshade,” she stammered, “But you can never be too careful.”

“Mhm. Can you help Cheetor? He’s been like this for a long time now. I didn’t know what to do, so I dragged him under here. I would have taken him back to his base, but I didn’t know where it is, and I couldn’t transform, and-“

“It’s okay,” Airazor assured the girl, who seemed on the verge of tears. How old was Fleetshade, anyway?

Airazor moved forward and knelt down beside Cheetor. His back half was badly burned, but otherwise he looked okay. No signs of shooting.

“What happened to him?” Airazor asked.

“He was caught in an explosion,” Fleetshade answered, “His internal systems were badly damaged. I know enough about emergency repairs to probably fix him, but I’m useless in beast mode.”

Airazor raised her optic arches. “And where’d you learn that?”

Fleetshade fidgeted. “I…lived pretty rough for a while, and had to learn to repair myself.”

Airazor tamped down her curiosity with effort and turned back to face the girl.

“He should be okay until I get him back to base,” she said, gesturing at Cheetor, “But first we should see about programming you an activation code.”

Fleetshade tensed. “No way. I’m not getting reprogrammed. I’d rather stay this way.”

“I wasn’t talking about reprogramming you,” Airazor assured the young femme gently, “But since you’re neither Maximal nor a Predacon, you need to program some sort of activation code.”

“Oh.”

“How about something simple,” Airazor suggested, “Like ‘robot mode’ or ‘battle mode’?”

Fleetshade laughed shortly. “I’m not a battle bot,” she said, “But the first one sounds okay.”

Airazor showed Fleetshade how to program the activation code into her internal computer.

“Try it out,” she urged.

“Fleetshade, robot mode,” the girl intoned, and there was a whirring noise as the deer form unfolded to reveal Fleetshade’s robotic form.

She was still small and slim, with an obviously feminine figure. She still had the thin, skin-like mottled black armor that resembled overlapping shadows. But her beast form had made small changes, such as the large, back-swept deer ears that remained on her head and the deer-skin colour that covered the back of her head, coming to a low widow’s peak between large, shimmering optics that glowed like a deer’s in headlights. The deer’s back legs folded at the back of her thighs, the front legs doing the same with her upper arms. The deer head, minus its ears, rested on Fleetshade's back. Her fingers were long and thin and came to sharp points. A large swatch of deer-skin colour ran obliquely across her chest like a cross-shoulder shirt. Another large swatch ran over her hips and upper thighs. She also sported knee-high boots and wrist guards in a deep green colour.

Fleetshade gasped and look down, examining herself.

“Not too bad,” she muttered. Airazor smiled.

“Thanks,” Fleetshade said, “This is – fantastic!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Airazor replied with a smile, “I should really be getting back with Cheetor.”

“Right,” said Fleetshade, stepping aside.

Airazor scooped Cheetor up, staggering under the cat-bot’s dead weight. “Oof. Are you coming with me, Fleetshade?”

The deer-bot shook her head. “Sorry, but no. I’m more comfortable out here. I’ll be fine.” She smiled, an oddly bitter expression. “I don’t usually talk to strangers.”

“I understand well enough the need to be outside the confines of metal walls,” Airazor replied.

There was a pause as Airazor changed back to beast mode and maneuvered Cheetor so that she could carry him in her talons.

“What will you tell them?” Fleetshade asked suddenly. Glancing at the young femme, Airazor noticed that the girl was scared again.

“I’ll tell them you’re not interested in coming back to base,” she said, “And if they have a problem with it, they can deal with me.”

Fleetshade looked for a moment as if she might weep with relief.

“Thanks, Airazor,” she whispered, then smiled. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.”

The invitation, such as it was, startled Airazor, but pleased her as well. “Alright,” she agreed, “And Fleetshade…be careful. Not everybody is as trustworthy as they appear.”

Fleetshade’s expression clouded over, but she retained her smile. “And not all prejudices are justified,” the deer-bot replied, “If there’s something I’ve learned in life, it’s that no matter where a femme comes from or what she looks like, we’re all built of the same stuff where it counts.”

And with that, Fleetshade transformed to beast mode and bounded nimbly away into the forest, leaving Airazor with nothing more to do than flap into the air, bearing Cheetor in her talons and a lot of unanswered questions buzzing around in her processor.