Red Clouds

4.Nov.06

Red Clouds

You held my hand
and were instant to explain
the three rings of danger.

-Anne Sexton

Like Carrion suspected, being under Megatron’s ranks did not help a Predacon much. As an escaped convict who’d escaped prisons more than once, he immediately noticed the security cameras following every movement. There were camera-drones flying all over the territories, in both Predacon and Maximal grounds. It wouldn’t have surprised him at all if Megatron listened to all of his minions’ discussions. It was like living under the Maximals’ suppression; only this time by Predacons.

Carrion slammed his knuckles together in frustration. This is the very thing that he despised: the idea of suppression. Freedom was a luxury no one should give up, not even lowest of Predacons. It was one thing to be a leader; it was entirely different matter to be a tyrant.

Primus knows that there was nothing more than Carrion hated than tyrants.

He barely made out of the screen he was supposed to watch over in this night of duty. Within twenty-four hours Carrion was given sentry duty, which suited him fine. He looked down at the lava pit below him. He stared at the sluggish movements of melted rock, mesmerized. The heat did not bother him at all; his vulture instincts told him the heat would create wonderful thermals to fly.

The avian bot continued to stare at the fiery depths. It was strange how Carrion feared the torturous depths of the Pit, yet be in a place very much like itself. But then again, since when did a Predacon ask for the guidance of Primus? Might as well be a Maximal.

Carrion knew Predacons were at best atheist by nature, nihilist at worse. Only he was the true, unique exception by actually praying to Primus. Silently, of course, or otherwise other Predacons would think of him as a Predacon-come-Maximal. Which he wasn’t. To be honest, he did all those prayers for a sense of comfort. He wasn’t too sure if he believed in Primus, but he did those prayers to feel justified and comforted.

Comfort in prayer should never be confused for believing in prayer.

But what could he do with Megatron? As a bot who fought for the freedom of his own people, Carrion despised Maximals—and Predacons—who deny freedom to others. He noticed Megatron’s crew did not treat him or his crewmates lightly. In fact, they seemed to conceal their suspicions but did not act entirely friendly. Ah well. He didn’t expect anything better.

A beep awoke Carrion from his musings. He tore his face away from the lava pit and turned to the computer screen. It was Devivile. What was he doing outside of his quarters?

Carrion narrowed his optics as he saw the yellow Predacon signature traveling out of the Darkside and into the darkness. He observed his crewmate, not bothering to alert Megatron or bring Devivile back.

Devivile’s signature made a steady pace away from the perimeters of the Predacon base. It paused for a few cycles.

“Why are you hesitating?” Carrion muttered to himself. As soon as he said that, the signature continued westward.

“Hmmm.”

Devivile continued onward. Soon he picked up pace, slowly gaining speed. He was heading westward, in the direction of their opponents’ crashed vessel. But then Devivile soon changed direction and headed southward. He then stopped at Sector Sigma. It looked like he was at his destination, his was signal still.

Carrion racked his processor for what was in Sector Sigma. He recalled he was with Megatron, trying to come into contact with the other Predacons. They soon found Inferno dragging an unconscious Jezevant, his rotor shot from being exposed to the water. Megatron soon left the three continue onward to the Predacon base, not considering how much time it would take them back to base. It took quite a while to find Devivile because he wasn’t replying in his comm. link. He finally found him nearby Sector Sigma. Devivile’s comm. link. was damaged, thus couldn’t sent any help . . . according to Devivile. Carrion suspected there is something more to this, but couldn’t figure out what.

Well. Whatever it is, it is in Sector Sigma. For what purpose? Maybe there was a lake or a river of sorts: as an aquabot, Devivile perhaps wanted to be underwater. Or perhaps he wants to establish his own lair. Or maybe . . .

Carrion shrugged to himself. Who knew? Devivile was a bot of solitude, more so than normal. He rarely voiced his own opinions, and if he did, Carrion had the hint that there was more to the truth than what the eel let on. But Carrion didn’t mind: he knew Devivile considered Carrion a respectable companion, the closest thing to what a nihilistic person might consider as a friend.

For several cycles Devivile went in circles in the sector, perhaps looking for something. But then he turned around and started his way back to the Darkside. Carrion made a mental note to check out Sector Sigma himself, just in case there was any thing he could use to his own personal advantage.

But back to tyrant topic: yes, Carrion despised tyrants on both sides. Megatron hoarded all the power to himself, not really concerned for his people at the whole. Take Rampage for example: almost immediately he was told about the truth of Omnicron (oddly enough from Waspinator, a rather interesting individual), on how the killer came here and how Megatron now controlled him.

It took every ounce of his power to keep the look of disgust from crawling over Carrion’s facial plates as he heard the story. It was all vile, from the creation of X to the enslavement of Rampage. If it was Carrion and not Megatron who had encountered the insane crab, he would take the energon blade and stab that vile spark. Better be dead than live as a slave. Or live as a potential threat.

This particular yarn alone made Carrion to understand this: Megatron, alone, cannot save his crew, let alone his own people. No wonder he was betrayed more than once! It was so stupid! What were they doing? Trying to get inside the Ark so they can destroy Prime again? What good can come out of that? For all they know, that could strengthen the Autobots, and not weaken them.

The past alone cannot save the Predacons. Not by itself, anyway.

So first things first: Megatron had to die. Inferno too, since he was so loyal to Megatron Carrion guessed he would die too.

But the best way to kill a tyrant was to be close to him. (Carrion hated the irony.) Oh, Primus. His internals are now rattling in disgust. Stop that, you blasted parts. Thank you.

Risky, Carrion knew that. Despite his brutality and his close-minded form of thinking, Carrion can see Megatron’s shrewdness, the clarity in the cleverness. It was his greatest weapon. But Carrion had his weapons too.

After all, Carrion was a Predacon.

Devivile was aware Carrion was on night duty, but knowing the avian bot, he knew Carrion wouldn’t stop him. He would probably think Devivile was out on a midnight stroll for a bit of peace. True, Devivile cared less of having any companions, but this time it was far from the case. In retreating from the battle with the Maximals, he found a convenient pool of water to cool his injuries. He stayed there for a while until he saw an underwater cave entrance. Curious, he went inside and discovered a submerged cave with raw Energon. He left, knowing Carrion or the new Megatron would be suspicious of his whereabouts. Just as soon as he left the pool’s perimeters, Carrion discovered him and brought Devivile to the base known as the Darkside. He was only trying to revisit the cave just in case it was truly undiscovered beforehand.

After spending time in the CR Chamber, he found himself in the midst of Predacons, including Carrion and Jezevant. Megatron introduced his minions to the three newcomers.

Devivile paid no attention to what they said and observed the other Predacons. Clearly the only bot who seems truly concern with another is Inferno, the antbot who considered Megatron as his . . . well, as his queen. Devivile snorted at the memory as he left the base. If Megatron found out that he left the perimeters, he can easily tell on Carrion for his lack of attention.

He continued on to Sector Sigma but then he heard a loud hissing noise. He looked around, looking for the source before looking down. Under the cover of dry bushes lay a snake. The nape of its head was flatten, making itself look bigger. Devivile stepped back in surprise, but the snake misinterpreted the movement as a threat and struck.

Devivile jerked back as he felt the bite, but he wasn’t too worried. Organic venom didn't affect Transformers. Still, he admired the snake’s determination to survive. He stepped backwards, giving the serpent some space. The snake, still hissing its warning, slithered backwards and made a quick getaway. Devivile watched the creature retreating until he couldn’t see it through the shrubbery. He continued onward toward his destination.

Devivile was much like that snake. He preferred isolation over company, and if anyone tried to take that away from him, warnings damned. He wouldn’t hiss a warning like the snake kindly did; he’d attack all right. Carrion knew this. Jezevant knew this. Megatron would not care even if he knew.

Devivile could tell by the morning morrow, it will be Megatron not Carrion that would give out orders to him and Jezevant. Carrion was the only bot Devivile could stand, more to fact that the bot was smart enough to give another’s personal space. Jezevant didn’t care about personal space; if it could invoke a fight that she desired, then she’d press those buttons. Loud, rude, and abrasive, she'd fit right in with the other Predacons.

The whole situation irritated Devivile. He knew Carrion was helpless at the loss of power due to Megatron’s status as a master criminal . . . and the amount of backup the megalomaniac had. If Carrion refused, then they would be slagged. That or Jezevant would join the Predacons and THEN they would slag the both of them. The bitch is not subtle in anything, even in betrayal. He knew she was a danger to them both the moment he met her. But Carrion only considered her tricks of the trade, to say it mildly. At soon as he heard the soft crashing of the waterfall, he felt his stress being lifted. He didn’t even realize he was jogging to his secret cave. He slowed down and walked his way leisurely to the pool. As he finally arrived, he looked down at the water. His reflection was distorted by the ripples. Devivile sighed. His face had significantly altered ever since he arrived on this Primus-forsaken planet. But then, there was no Primus, was there? There was only himself. Nothing else mattered. Like Devivile, the snake was concerned with only with itself.

It had to. He had to. They had to, if they were to survive.

With those thoughts in mind, Devivile dived into the depths and transformed into beast mode. He slithered into the darkness of the deep.

Several hours later . . .

In the sleeping quarters of the crashed Mirrorwave, one occupant was having difficulty falling asleep. Stoneroar was in her quarters, trying in vain to go to sleep. After coming online in the CR Chamber, her first reaction was embarrassment. Here she was, a Transformer only useful in human surgeries, only now have to be repaired herself. The attack launched by the Predacons took her totally by surprise, but was further surprised on how she quickly reacted and started firing before she even realized she even had a gun. She was doing wonderful herself, before being knocked out by a shot between the shoulder blades.

She'd cursed the bot who shot her just before she went into stasis lock.

Stoneroar’s embarrassment turned to annoyance. Just when she was proving to herself there was more than just being a human doctor, she got careless and got shot. Well, she’d be more careful this time, and would track down her unknown assailant and reduce him to scrap.

The fuzor sighed and look up at the ceiling. What a ratty situation she’d been dragged into. If they weren’t left behind by the fleet, she would be in a pricey club by now, hanging out with her drinking buddies. Cordelia would be in some second-class apartment while studying on her aquatic-evolution-algorithms-whatever with equally poor scientists and students as they study the ocean on planet Tetra. Crocnix would be in the center of attention, like always, with the oh-so-disturbing-trend of turning humans into Transformers.

In Stoneroar’s humble opinion, she didn’t see what the fuss was all about. If humans wanted to turn into something as fabulous as Transformers, then they are free to do so. No one’s is stopping them. Or at least, no one should. No one should be denying the freedom of being fantastic, or becoming fantastic.

Dammit, I can’t sleep. I hate sleeplessness. It always manages to make things worse. Like energon cramps.

She tossed on her recharge bed. Stoneroar wondered what it is like to sleep on a human bed.

She sighed and got up. No point in trying. Might as well have some use in the lack of sleep by getting a drink. Her energon levels were high, but extra liquid distilled energon couldn’t hurt.

As Stoneroar walked out and went to the extra quarter unit for her energon, she noticed a familiar flash of red in the bridge.

So. She’s not the only one awake.

After shoving some rubbish aside and found her energon, she poured herself a glass. She then approached the bridge, where Cordelia sat. The human stared at the wilderness blankly, drinking slowly from a water bottle. She wore a simple nightgown that went down her knees, the blue-colored silk clinging to her body.

“Yo,” Stoneroar said in her usual greeting. “What’s going on?”

Cordelia slowly spun her seat around. “Hey, Sill—Stoneroar.”

“Ha! Nearly called me by my old name, did you?” Stoneroar said, sitting down. “Don’t like my new one?”

“Well, no—”

“Good, because my new name gonna permanent.”

The human rolled her eyes and took a sip of her water. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sleep? What? I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to sleep.” Stoneroar said in mock offense. She paused as she took a swing of the energon. Cordelia nodded and looked back at the screen.

Outside was still dark, the half-moon barely giving light to the swamp around them. It gave the wildlife a dark, dangerous beauty to them. A sudden gush of wind disturbed the trees, branches waving to the Mirrorwave in a menacing manner. Both Transformer and human sat there for a while, observing the weather outside.

“What did we get ourselves into, Stoneroar?” Cordelia asked her eyes glued to the window. “This isn’t one of those situations when we made up crap and got ourselves into trouble, relying on Crocnix or some other higher-up to get us out.”

“No, it isn’t,” Stoneroar admitted. “This time we are stuck for good. But hey, at least this time it wasn’t our fault, right? It’s those Preds, right?”

“Oh, Christ, don’t remind me of the Preds,” Cordelia muttered. “I’m paranoid they might, I dunno, jump at us like they did last time. To be honest, I think we should take what is most valuable on this ship and join the other Maximals. Out in the open, exposed . . . I think it is driving me nuts.”

“We’ve been here for a little over twelve hours and already you going crazy? Where’s the straightjacket when you need it?”

Cordelia snorted and drank the remnants of her water bottle and cringed. She placed a hand on her stomach, as though feeling a cramp herself. She looked down at her nightgown and straightened it a bit. “You know, if you weren’t in stasis lock, I think you would like Rattrap.”

“Who?”

“One of the Maximals. He arrived after the fight.”

“Nice timing he has.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious! Even a drone knows how to be punctual.” To prove her point, she swiftly made another swing.

Cordelia rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose. Stoneroar hated when she did that. Human noses are the least attractive features they had, and wrinkling them did not help. She was surprised none of their various past and present cultures used nose-cutting as a cosmetic feature. They cut off their own beautiful hair but not their own noses? At least Cordelia was blessed with the more pleasing of human noses—the ones so small it almost looked like she didn’t have one.

The human sighed. “What are we going to do here, Stoneroar? Crocnix said that all of our engines are not worth repairing and our communications are shot. We are stranded here on prehistoric Earth.” She placed the last word with heavy emphasis.

“Well, I hadn’t gone that far yet,” Stoneroar admitted, not answering Cordelia’s hidden question. I don’t have the answer to that, honey, not yet. “Right now all I care about is getting back at the idiot who shot me in the back.”

“Y’know, if your mate is only concerned with her pride at a situation like this, you know you are in trouble.”

“You might be, human. I’m not.” Stoneroar gave her a shrewd look. “Anyway, what do you have to worry? Just go inside the Mirrorwave; activate the weapons and shielding and have a merry time blasting Predacons. No problem-o. Crocnix and I, on the other hand, will be outside, offering our skidplates to the Predacons as scrap.”

The red-head sneered. “Offering protection, Stoneroar?”

“Don’t have to. It was part of the Tetra Colony Agreement: Transformers protect humans, humans protect Transformers. It’s simple as that.”

Cordelia looked at Stoneroar, a strange expression on her face. She then shrugged.

“Can’t see how I’m any use now, other than managing the Mirrorwave. What does a marine biologist can do?” She said, trying her best to sound casual. It was true, as a human she was pretty worthless in combat situation involving Transformers. (The notable exception was the Headmasters.) She never fired a weapon before. The fact that she had to bring the remaining weapons online and order to shoot anything with a Predacon signature bothered her. Yes, Predacons were the enemy, but it bothered her nonetheless.

Cordelia suppressed those thoughts. In a war, you could not afford the luxury of doubt. It would only get you killed.

Stoneroar seemed to be reading her thoughts. “Listen,” she said in her gentlest voice possible. “I cannot lie that you are vulnerable now. I cannot deny the fact that you have to be extra careful when you walk outdoors. I bet right now you trying to figure out how to be useful since you function on bone and blood, not on superstructure and energon. My advice: don’t think that way. You are more of an asset than a hindrance. I don’t know how or why, but I know you will be a great help for us and the other Maximals. You’ll see.”

“But I don’t know how to work a weapon—”

“Slag. Neither do I. And yet I fired on those Predacons yesterday. You alerted the Mirrorwave’s weapons. That’s what I call working a weapon.”

“But—” Cordelia started to protest. Stoneroar frowned and dropped her sweet-talking voice.

“Shut up. You are gonna have your uses, whether you know them or not. Maybe not now, when you are up in the middle of the night moping around in your nightgown, but you will.”

Cordelia glared. Stoneroar glared back. They gave each other a silent battle of ugly looks before they both cracked up quietly, both snickering at each other. Stoneroar took the opportunity to drink the final dregs of her liquid energon and stood up. Primus, talking in the middle of the night really did it for the sleeplessness.

“Well, thanks for cheering me up, Stoneroar,” Cordelia said, also standing up. She stretched, bending her back a little, but stopped as another cramp took her stomach again. “For a while I thought I’d never go to sleep.”

“I know. Isn’t sleeplessness contagious or what? Next time, do everyone a favor and quarantine yourself.” Stoneroar retorted while turning her back to Cordelia. She had the sneakiest feeling she did a rude hand gesture.

“I sensed that, human.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“And I know you too well to not to resist to roll those disgusting eyes,” Stoneroar continued, walking down the hallway. “See you in the morning.”

Cordelia waited until the fuzor went inside her quarters. She sighed to herself. “She’s right,” she muttered to herself, examining her hands. They were small and ridiculously long and skinny.

Cordelia looked up at the heavens and closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but wished she could be as spiritual as her Crocnix. She tried, God knows, she tried, but it was always hard. Hard to have faith in something you can’t see, taste, or feel.

She walked down the dark hallway, going past Crocnix’s and the spare quarters to her own when she realized Stoneroar’s was empty. Cordelia frowned at the empty room. She shook her head and went inside her own room.

When she entered, she let out a strangled cough of surprise. Stoneroar was on her bed, fast asleep.

The sun rose above the mountains, its radiance coloring the sky with red clouds and purple-orange sky. The Maximals would have enjoyed the view, if it wasn’t for the wake-up call the Predacons graciously gave to them.

“Man oh man,” Rattrap groaned as he nailed another board across a hole. “I just wish Charlie Tuna had avoided us just for that one time. We would have Sentinel here to take the work load off.” The fact never failed to irritate him. He kept taps on making his thoughts known.

Fortunately, Depth Charge wasn’t there to hear Rattrap. He left in the middle of the night, during Cheetor’s night watch. He knew better than stopping Depth Charge.

Rhinox shrugged at his companion’s complaining. “We have to make best of it, Rattrap.” he said wisely, rewiring the severed wires in the blast doors. The medic suddenly remembered. “What is going on with the new Maximals and the girl?”

Rattrap considered his answer thoughtfully. “Nothin’ much right now. Right now dey just want to get situated, repairing the weapons an’ all that. To be honest, though, I dink dey are better off in the base here dan in a useless transport ship, ‘specially now dey gotta keep an eye out for the Preds. We could use dere help.”

Rhinox nodded. “Optimus told me such sentiments. Who knows? Maybe they will. Speaking of which, Rattrap, what was going with the other ship? More Predacons?”

“Looks like it, from what I saw. Dey’re just a bunch of Preds on the run, like Megaboob and his crew. More to worry about, den,” Rattrap muttered. He stepped back and observed his handiwork. Satisfied, he picked up the box of equipment and walked back inside the base.

Just as he placed his toolset down, Optimus came up to him. “Rattrap,” he said. (Rattrap had to crane his neck to meet his optics.) “I need you to go to Sector Delta, to see how the newcomers are.”

“Already?” Rattrap asked, surprised. “It’s barely sunrise!”

“I know, Rattrap, but if they are not active yet, I just want you observe the place. Just for their security. If they are, maybe you can help them out with their defenses.”

Rattrap nodded. “Yeah, sure, though it wouldn’t surprise me if dey aren’t active. If ya askin’ me, dat’ll be their first mistake.”

“Then you should correct them if they do so, Rattrap,” Optimus said.

Rattrap nodded. He transformed into vehicle mode and revved off to Sector Delta. Optimus look at the disappearing form of Rattrap before a voice broke him away from his thoughts.

“Hey Big Bot, Silverbolt has taken over monitor duty for me. I’m getting ready for some shut eye.” Cheetor said. Optimus look down at the catbot and nodded. “Sure thing, Cheetor. Found anything on the scanners last night?”

Cheetor frowned as he looked back. “Yeah, I did saw one of the new Preds hanging around Sector Sigma. He stayed there for a while then came back to the Pred base.”

“Sector Sigma?” Optimus asked, interested. He went over the sector before. There was nothing but a waterfall and a lake there. “Well, we’ll just send someone else to check it out. Go and get some sleep.” Satisfied, Cheetor went back inside, exhausted.

On his throne, Megatron was looking over his visual feed, brooding. He sent the new femme along with Rampage (who had finally returned) and Quickstrike to attack the Maximal base. Carrion retired to his new quarters, with nothing to report about. Of course, Megatron doubted that might be the case, but he had other things to worry about. The one thing he was looking for was the recording of the crashed Mirrorwave. Just before attacking, he thought he saw something that shouldn’t be here.

A human.

At first he didn’t consider it; from his aerial position he thought it was another Maximal, but looking closer, the Maximal was a fully-evolved human. The human fled back inside the ship the moment Inferno started firing at the Maximals.

His expression brightened when one of the camera-drones managed to capture the image of the crashed Maximal ship, apparently after the battle. Optimal Optimus and his two Maximals strayed behind, wasting their time on the new Maximals. Megatron immediately regretted that he didn’t attack the Maximal base, but all of his back-up were damaged or missing.

The camera feed showed the human with the rat and the cat, talking excitedly to them. One of the new Maximals was hauling his stasis-locked companion back to the ship. Megatron paid no heed to neither Maximals, only to the human standing nearby. She was short for Transformers standards, but tall for a human. If he really had to compare sizes, she would meet barely to his elbow. Her hair was long and red, tied together by some sort of a rope. She wore some sort of a garment that covered her entire body, with a vest across her chest. He took in all the physical details carefully as a plan soon deviated from his mind.

He opened a comm. link.

“Megatron to Inferno!”

The reply came immediately. “Yes, Megatron?”

“I want you to spy on the Maximal ship. Do not reveal yourself at any cost. Be sure to keep on a close eye on the human girl.”

“As you command, Royalty.” The Predacon cut the connection. Megatron turned to one of the monitors and watched Inferno’s yellow Predacon signal leaving the Darkside. The more he thought of this idea, more appealing it became. But it would take time to take in all the vital information, since Megatron knew the Maximals would take extra precautions on the human’s supposed whereabouts, therefore more difficult to gain the information.

He pulled up a logistics chart on the screen. It’s not very unique idea, he’d done it before, but this time it would be different. This required experimentation, trial and error.

But it would succeed. He knew this.

Cordelia woke up on the bridge, her back sore. She could sleep on Stoneroar’s recharge bed by turning off the power, but the idea of sleeping on a Transformer bed did not sound comfortable. But then, the bridge wasn’t exactly comfy either.

She went out of the bridge and went into her own room, seeing her friend still sleeping on her bed, this time in beast mode. All of the blankets and the pillows lay on the floor, apparently kicked off. Cordelia sighed as she went to her drawers. Withdrew several articles of clothing, she went to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she splashed water on her face, trying to wake up. The cold water helped. As she took off her nightgown and put on her outdoor clothes on, she started to think of what Stoneroar had said.

Maybe she’s right. Surely I can do SOME good, right? I mean, what about those humans during the Great War?

Somehow, the thought did not comfort her.

After putting her boots on, she went to the kitchen. In one of the pantries she pulled out a small slab of beef jerky. God knew she was a horrible cook, but she had to learn how to do it properly now she was on this dustball. But now, she’d take the easy way. Besides, she reasoned to herself as she bit off a piece. I’m not much of a big eater anyway, so I won’t do much when comes down cooking.

That in mind, she took another water bottle along with her beef jerky and went to the bridge. Crocnix would have his scales in a wad if he found out she was eating on the bridge, but there was nothing in beef jerky to make a mess of.

She sat there for a long there, pensively chewing on her breakfast and occasionally sipping her water while watching the sunrise rising up. She admired the almost violent streaks of red against a sky of purple and orange.

She check the scanners every once in a while. Cordelia almost gagged on her jerky when she saw several Predacon signals light up across one of the smaller screens. To her immediate relief, they went far north of them and stationed there. Cordelia could only assumed they were in some sort of a fight, as soon as the scanners soon declared one of them disabled the signals retreated back somewhere south. They soon blipped out of sight.

Dammit, Cordelia thought furiously, as she felt her cramps coming back. If I die and reincarnation exists, I’m totally coming back as a man.

She sighed as she realized she was holding her breath. Cordelia was far too aware of the social and political clashes between Maximals and Predacons. Being with the Maximals now made her an enemy of the Predacons, and that alone made her jumpy.

Cordelia took a deep breath, then another. In twenty-four hours, she became more jumpy than a mattress spring. Was she always like this? Actually, she was pretty shitty when it comes down to thinking around her surroundings. After all, why bother to look at the pretty paintings inside a house when the house is good in the first place?

Then again, she stopped paying attention four years ago . . .

A sudden beep came through her muddled thoughts. She looked up and saw a Maximal signature heading towards the Mirrorwave. Cordelia wasn’t that far in the systems to tell her which signature belongs too. She sighed. They were probably checking up on them, to see how well they are doing. She fancied it might be one of the Maximals they encountered yesterday.

Cordelia got up and watched the signal coming closer. She peered into one of the smaller exterior views and watched a familiar bot come into view. She recognized it as Rattrap. Cordelia smiled grimly. She wasn’t too sure if she made a good impression on the ratbot. While she was talking to Cheetor and Rattrap, he could only grunt and asked a few questions for clarification.

She opened the hatch.

Cordelia got out just as Rattrap transformed. “Hey,” she greeted.

The silver and blue bot nodded. “Yo, Redhead. What’s up?” Cordelia winced at the nickname.

“Nothing much,” she said, walking down the platform. “I’ve noticed some Predacon signatures up north some time ago, but they soon left. I almost considered contacting you guys about it before you showed up.” Not completely true, but she wanted to look responsible.

“Just bunch of Preds givin’ us a nice little wake-up call. Noticed a new one the way they fired. Amateurs.” Cordelia chuckled. “Imagine they would,” she said, biting off another piece of beef jerky. She looked at the environment around her. “Came here to check on us, didn’t you?”

“Nyeh, Optimus wanted to check up on ya. Anythin’ needs fixing, other dan the obvious?”

Cordelia shrugged. “I’m a scientist, not a mechanic. Crocnix has the better knowledge than I do, speaking in technical jumbo that I can’t understand.”

Rattrap smirked. “And Stoneroar?”

“Man, forget Stoneroar,” Cordelia made a mock prayer with her hands. “She’s a surgeon for humans. I doubt she would know anything else other than drinks.”

Rattrap raised an optic ridge. “Never heard a Transform performin’ surgeries on humans.”

Cordelia shrugged as she finished off her beef jerky. “The idea is not exactly new, but then if you were from Cybertron, the concept would sound a little weird wouldn’t it?”

“It would. It does,” he agreed. They both stood together in silence for a nano-click, both studying each other. Rattrap broke the silence.

“Say, what do you dink of visitin’ de base?”

Cordelia was taken aback. “What?” she asked surprised. The rat smiled. “Why not? Come and meet the others. I dink it would do you a lot of good, being the resident human an’ all.”

Cordelia shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I dunno . . .” She said uncertainly, trying to ignore the bitterness she tasted when Rattrap called her ‘the resident human’. It tasted like bile.

“Awr, don’t worry about Scales and Stoneroar,” Rattrap said with a wave of his hand, as though he could read her mind. “Just wake them up and tell ‘em you goin’ to check out de Ark.”

“Wait . . . the Ark?” Her face was distorted in incredibility. “I don’t recall any mention of that yesterday.”

“Slipped of my mind,” Rattrap replied lazily. “So! How about dat trip?”

Cordelia paused, idly tapping her chin. Remembering the Predacons that apparently attacked the base, she wasn’t too sure if it was safe. But then, she can’t be holed up in the Mirrorwave forever. She had to come out sooner or later. Better safe than sorry, a voice in head said. Better stay behind and be safe.

But goddamn, the Ark! They really must be on prehistoric Earth then. At that moment, she made her mind. “Alright, I’ll go, but I’ll notify Stoneroar, if the crazy femmebot gets off my bed.”

“Bed?” Rattrap repeated, amused. Cordelia instantly knew what he was thinking.

“It’s not like that,” She said irritably and stomped back into the ship. She could hear Rattrap chuckling to himself.

She went down the hall and peered into her personal quarters. Yep, still sleeping in beast mode but this time sleeping on her back, good Lord. Her leonine and goat legs were twitching in the air, tail curled into a tight circle. She snorted and muttered “Naw, sweet bot, didn’t mean . . . Jointsnap, shaddup . . . .” Cordelia continued to stare at the sleeping fuzor, muttering in her sleep.

Cordelia picked up a pillow.

WHACK!

“Wake up.”

Stoneroar didn’t move. Cordelia raised her weapon.

WHACK!

“Wake up!”

The fuzor bleated weakly and opened her yellow goat eyes. Not feeling an inch of remorse, Cordelia swung the pillow down again.

WHACK!

“Blaaaaaaa-aaaaa!” Stoneroar yelled, struggling to come back on her feet. Unfortunately, she turned too quickly on the bed and promptly fell off. “Sleeping Beauty has come to,” Cordelia said smoothly, dropping the pillow and folded her arms in a haughty manner. Stoneroar looked up at the human in disdain. “Upset that you have to sleep in the bridge?” she sneered.

“Actually,” Cordelia countered. “Yeah, I am. Rattrap’s here, you crazy goat. I’m heading out to check out the Maximal base, so I thought I would tell you. Be sure to tell Crocnix when he wakes up. I don’t want him to shed scales when he finds out that I’m gone.” With that, she spun on her heal and left. She could feel Stoneroar’s eyes widening.

“Wait a minute there, missy,” she said. “Stoneroar, Maximize.” With the creaking of a transformation, she stood proudly on her two legs. “You ain’t going anywhere. What if there is Pred---” She stopped short when Cordelia gave her a look.

As a doctor for humans, Stoneroar was well experienced in recognizing human expressions and could tell double meanings behind them. This time however there is no needing to see any double meanings behind this expression: pure aggravation.

“I trust Rattrap as a Maximal,” Cordelia said, not turning her body to truly face Stoneroar. Her expression softened to a cocky, coy look. “Besides, I want to see what’s going on with their base. Think of me as an impromptu scout for the Mirrorwave.”

“Hmmpf,” Stoneroar snorted. She lowered her head, optics dimmed as she thought. She doesn’t like the idea of Cordelia out in the open— they don’t know just how many Predacons there are. Primus knows Crocnix would be on her furry hide for letting Cordelia run off without his say-so. But Cordelia was a big girl, and so was Stoneroar. Stoneroar can handle the geezer. Besides, now that she was thinking about it, Cordelia might be safer where there are more Maximals than here. Safety in numbers, after all. Stoneroar’s optics light up. “Alright. But hang for just one thing.”

Stoneroar walked past the human and into her own quarters. “I could give you my own gun,” She explained lazily as she rummaged around in her drawers. “But to be honest, that would diminish my own role in this conflict. Here,” She handed a small, but long handle.

“What is it?” She observed the handle. It was silver, with a black button.

“It’s an energon blade,” Stoneroar said. “That’s the closest thing I have to a weapon right now. Useless against bullets and lasers and stuff like that, but it could cut off a hand cleanly if somebody tried to grab you. No, don’t hold it like that, you idiot, you’ll slice a hole in your palm---”

“Ahem.” Both human and Transformer spun around and saw Rattrap, leaning against the doorway.

“Who the Pit are you?” Stoneroar demanded, the both her lion and goat instincts inside her aching to rear up and just show the intruder just who the boss is.

“De name’s Rattrap,” the bot said smoothly, looking at his digits. “And you must be Stoneroar.” His red optics looked evenly at Stoneroar’s sky blue.

“The one and only,” she stated. She went behind Cordelia and shoved the human. “Go on then, have fun at the base. It wouldn’t surprise me if it is in decrepit condition.”

“Yeah, and a busted ship isn’t any better.” Rattrap retorted. “C’mon, Redhead, you comin’ or what?”

“Sure,” she said, pocketing the blade in one of her breast pockets. She looked at Rattrap. “Let’s hit it.”

Below the bushes and groundcover, a dark shape blended perfectly in the dark shadows made by the sunrise and the leaves. Pinchers clicked pensively as the transmetal rat transformed into vehicle mode and gently guided the human to properly riding him. With a roar of his engines and the joyful squeal of the human, they both took off.

The shadowy form stood still for a nano-click before turning on his comm.link.

“Inferno to Megatron.”

Static. Then, “Megatron here.”

“The rat has visited the crashed vessel. It seems as though the human is visiting the Maximal base for the first time. Should I follow, or observe the vessel still?”

A pause. And then, “No, return to base immediately. Notify Quickstrike’s team to avoid the rat, I don’t want them to scare off the human.”

“Understood.”

The whole place was still from activity, but that soon changed when the fuzor femme came out and looked around in her surroundings. She looked around the trees, a frown on her face.

“Well,” she said out loud to herself (or so she thought), “better get those defenses running.”

Fearing that the ship’s defenses would instantly discover him, Inferno backed away in beast mode, unnoticed by Stoneroar.

After several cycles, Rattrap broke the silence. “So, Cordelia,” he began. “What exactly brought you to a fleet?”

Cordelia couldn’t shrug while clinging to Rattrap. “More of a whim than anything else. Crocnix and Stoneroar were qualified to join the fleet because of their jobs. Me, I just graduated from college with a marine biology major. I wanted out, so Crocnix and Stoneroar managed to pull a few strings to put me into an assistant scientist position on the Marine Expedition of Planet Tetra.”

“Huh. Why did you want to leave Earth?”

“I got bored.” she said shortly. She looked back at the patch of forest they left. The greenery slowly shrank back into the distance.

“Well, we’re almost dere,” Rattrap announced. Cordelia looked forward and saw a looming volcano. She felt a pang of worry. “Um, is that a volcano?”

“Nyeh, but don’t worry about it erupting. It won’t in a million years or so.” Cordelia did not felt reassured at all. She firmly kept her fear to herself. She can’t go back now.

“So what’s going on with the base anyway?” Cordelia attempted to talk. She needed the distraction. “I mean the situation before we landed on the welcome mat?”

Rattrap snorted. “Loads of things, sister, but Optimus can explain it better dan I can.” She could only nodded as the mountain grew bigger and bigger, until she saw a huge metal door. She could barely see the Maximal insignia on top of the doors. Rattrap weaved between the boulders, finally slowing down to a stop. Cordelia got off, allowing Rattrap to transform.

“Here we are, Redhead. Home of the brave, the young, the restless, the handsome . . .” Blackarachnia, on her turn for sentry duty turned the autoguns on the two. “And yer Predacon traitors.” Rattrap finished as Blackarachnia trained the autoguns on the two.

The spider narrowed her already-narrow optics at the transmetal rat. She turned from Rattrap to Cordelia. She gave her a hard look, as though thinking Cordelia might bring fire and brimstone to the base.

Cordelia glared back. No way would some Pred should tell her of her place.

Rattrap was all too amused of this silent battle. Past twenty-four cycles, and already there was tension. He was betting on Cordelia, just for being the newbie. Both females glared at each other. Blackarachnia’s spider legs twitched. Cordelia shifted her weight slightly. Rattrap grinned even wider. He could feel the tension between the two femmes surging. This is more fun that watching Preds getting slagged!

The blast doors opened. Startled by the noise they made, Cordelia broke eye-optic contact to the spiderbot as Optimus came out. Blackarachnia sneered at the human as she returned to her duties.

“Cordelia,” Optimus said. “Good morning. I hope the Predacons didn’t made any surprise attacks?” He ignored Blackarachnia’s scoff of contempt.

“Nah, it was quiet. Nothing to report with, though I did pick up Pred signals around here, but Rattrap told me about the wake-up call the Preds gave you.”

Optimus’ optic ridge went a little higher. “So your sensors are functional then. That’s good.”

Cordelia resisted the temptation to shrug. “If you say so.”

The Maximal leader looked around. “Where are Stoneroar and Crocnix? Back at the Mirrorwave?”

Cordelia nodded. “Yeah, I told Stoneroar I’m here.”

Optimus gave a small smile. “Does Crocnix know?”

“Not when I left. Stoneroar will tell him, when he wakes up.”

“I can’t believe this!” Crocnix yelled. His arms were up in the air, agitated. His kingly face was transformed into an expression which Stoneroar thinks is akin to an angry god. Primus, that mech have such a stature! Too bad he was too busy taking care of Cordelia back on present Earth.

“Hey, calm down, Crocnix. Take deep breaths,” Stoneroar said smoothly, her fur-lined hands trying, and failing, to keep the crocodilian Maximal’s arms down. He jerked away from her, frothing the proverbial oil at the mouth. Key word proverbial. If he really was frothing oil, then he wouldn’t look handsome at all. And that’ll be a damn shame.

“I am breathing deeply. I’ll be breathing even more deeply when I pulverize you and when I see Cordelia with all four limbs attached and unscathed,” Crocnix snarled at the fuzor. He pointed an angry finger at her direction, a fantastic gesture on his part. He pointed that finger many times during Cordelia’s rowdy teenage years, when she would sneak out of the house to see a boyfriend or go to some illegal party.

Stoneroar missed those years when Cordelia was actually alive. She knew when to party and where to get good booze. She was sneaky and very much a devil while looking good at it.

But then Cordelia fell in love.

And that destroyed everything that made her alive.

Suddenly thrust back to reality, Stoneroar gave herself the gall to look annoyed. Daydream later, Stoneroar. “You of all people should know the dangers of what is going on here! You, of all the lunatics in this universe, KNOW that Cordelia cannot survive without a guard on this planet! This isn’t one of your upper-class games here, Stoneroar—”

That did it.

She shoved him down at the captain’s chair and prodded his chest with a finger. She bend over, her face close to his, her optics staring deep into his.

“Listen, you neurotic lizard. Cordelia safe and sound in the Maximal base, checking it out for us. Sending her over there is as hell safer than being here. They got bigger guns and more back-up. We don’t. As a big military man yourself, you can see the logic behind that.” She paused and savored her dramatic moment. It really did pay to play the so-called opposite role: the logical female over the emotional male.

“Your kid is fine at the moment. She’s safe. I’ve been checking the monitors ever since she left, and you know what? Before you woke up, I got the message from hers truly that she didn’t seen any Predacons along the way. Her trip was uninterrupted by Predacons. But let me fill you in on something else, High and Mighty Crocnix,” her voice went from annoyance to a coolness she knew Crocnix never heard from her. She loved the thrill of what she was feeling. Doctor versus doctor, the true battle of the gods! “Don’t you dare assume me as a drunk. I knew the risks of sending her out, but I figured, hell, she’s safer there than here. And you know what? I’m right, and you know it.”

She leaned in closer to the captain, her hands resting on the armrests. She loved every second of her life as she watched Crocnix’s optics becoming wider. He shifted uncomfortably at such invasion of personal space.

He had it coming.

“And don’t think you are the only one who truly cares for her. Because honey, you’re not.” Knowing she is coming down to the conclusion of this argument, Stoneroar stood up straight and folded her arms.

“And there you have it, Crocnix. That’s why she there and not here. Anything else?”

Crocnix shuffled in his chair uncomfortably. Looking at it in a different light, it did make sense, but that didn’t stop Crocnix from hating the situation. And feeling like a high-class fool. Damn her and damn him.

“Yes, there is one,” Crocnix grumbled. “Why didn’t she tell me before she left?”

“Same reason I waited for you to wake up,” Stoneroar replied airily. “We both knew you needed the sleep. She also didn’t want to be here to see your scales in a wad, the coward.”

Crocnix snorted and shook his head. “I just don’t want her to get killed.”

Stoneroar rolled her optics. “Who doesn’t?” First Cordelia, then Crocnix. Primus, had she become the Mirrorwave’s psychotherapist all the sudden? The other Maximals better not go to her for their problems, or she’ll show them the human phase “It’s a hard-knock life”.

Crocnix sighed. “Well, then, let’s see if we can repair the weapons. I’m still amazed they’re still operational, even though it was few of them.”

Stoneroar gave her now-trademark snort. “Wish I could’ve seen the fireworks.”

“It was quite amazing,” Crocnix commented as he exited the ship.

“‘Avoid the rat?’” Jezevant demanded. “What the Pit is that order? I can easily slag him. One less Maximal to worry about, one more to my collection of heads.”

Much to Jezevant’s aggravation Quickstrike was in stasis lock, so he couldn’t reply. Rampage didn’t even bother to look at her, never mind speaking to her.

She was in beast mode, walking along with Rampage in tank mode. Jezevant knew of the Omicron explosion, and was absolutely astonished to hear it was actually more like an Omicron massacre, with the murderer over at the Predacon side. When Megatron assigned her with Quickstrike and Rampage, she practically kneeled over and died. She took back the curses she gave to this planet as she skipped out of the base with her companions.

It didn’t take long for her to realize that the Omnicron killer won’t do anything with her, or anyone else for that matter. Very antisocial, apparently. What a disappointment. He could tell great tales of killing the Maximals over there.

While Quickstrike was a great bot to be with, as he shared similar tastes and personality quirks, he was taken down by both autogun and Maximal fire much too quickly for Jezevant to fully enjoy his company. That alone took some away from her good mood, so she took it upon herself to run full tilt across the field; jump at one of the guns in robot mode and turned into beast mode as she ripped the offender apart with her claws and teeth. She then transformed and blasted it with an arm-cannon blast for good measure.

Unfortunately, the giant flying ape came at her with his more powerful firepower. Outraged at the memory of him grabbing her yesterday, she was about to jump on top of the flight-mode commander before another autogun took her sprawling to the ground below.

With both body and pride damaged, she rolled to her feet and started to fire on the Maximals before she found herself again on her knees as another autogun took her by the small of her back. While she loved nothing more than getting back on her feet and pummel Maximals, she knew a losing fight when she sees one. By the Pit, even Immortal Rampage was taking some serious blows.

Why did Megatron sent only three of them? Jezevant fumed. She yelled at him for retreat, and was surprised to see that the cannibal obeyed her orders. He didn’t bother to grab Quickstrike however, so she took the task of hauling the fuzor to safety. Normally she’ll leave anyone who falls behind (and give those who are great pain a rather merciful death), but she was so charmed by the scorpion that she had to retrieve him.

Miraculously, she managed to catch up with the tank-crab and unceremoniously dumped Quickstrike’s prone form on top of Rampage. Rampage started growl at her, but she cut him off.

“Don’t start. I’m damaged; I have to go back to beast mode for internal repairs so I can’t haul this pretty mech by myself. This will make it easier on both of us, so shut it!”

Whether or not he agreed with her, she didn't care. Already she was in a foul mood. He was taking on the Maximals while she had to deal with some stupid autoguns. Nice, real nice.

The two Predacons trudged on in silence, both fuming and deep in their own thoughts. They were walking along the cliffs of a dried canyon. Jezevant squashed an insect morosely. A good day gone. That is all she cared about.

Jezevant paused when she heard a distant revving. Rampage went along, ignoring her. The revving noise grew louder in the echoes of the canyon. Jezevant narrowed her eyes and went to the edge of the canyon and looked down. What she saw was incredible.

She saw something that was like a miniature car going down the path, with something on it, recognizable with its red mane. She increased magnification of her optics and was absolutely shocked to see a human riding on top of some kind of a mouse with wheels. A human, riding on a Transformer like a beast of burden!

It must be the rat Megatron was talking about. But why is the rodent has a human riding on top of him? Where is he taking her? The Maximal base seems like a possible answer.

But even if that is the case, why did Megatron order her not to attack them? Here are two exposed Maximals (technically one, but Jezevant was not a bot who cares for technicalities). One shot and the human’s head would roll. Another would send the rat sprawling. With Rampage the Omicron Killer, they can make the rat’s head roll along with the human.

There was nothing more satisfying than seeing heads roll.

But still. Megatron’s orders. She didn’t care much for Megatron, but he’s the one who’s paying the bills, so to speak.

Before rejoining Rampage, she gave the two disappearing Maximals one final look and smiled.