Desperate Measures

That was the gentle wake up call Jason got from Joe. He gradually awoke, mainly to the stench of very foul smelling breath.

Joe smiled as Jason sat up on the bench. He’d been sleeping for hours after they dragged in the discarded lump from the ashen floor of Jalen. For a while he thought Jason must have passed out, but all it took was a gentle gust of air to wake him.

Jason sat up, complaining, and rubbed his eyes, his groans sounding like a chicken laying a hedgehog.

“We’re on a ship heading towards a city called Vixadonia. It is under heavy attack from Predacon fighters and some have leaked into the city. They’re in need of foot soldiers in case the lines break. We are being sent there.”

“I told you all that so that you wouldn’t pester me with your irritating questions of when, where, how and why. If you weren’t listening, go back to sleep or ask someone else.” Joe snorted and stood up, his suit half done up and hanging limply around his waist.

“I’m going to look for an onboard dispensary,” Joe growled and started walked out. It was strangely silent and Jason noted that most of the soldiers were asleep. He suddenly wanted to wring Joe’s neck for waking him, but he contained the act of rage and simply asked a question, which he knew would irritate Joe anyway: -

“Yes, well, I’ll be sure not to befriend any more journalists in the future. And, to answer your question, I’m going to get a pee-constraint. I almost lost it when a laser beam whizzed an inch away from my ear,” Joe explained and carried on walking.

Jason decided that he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again and that he might as well find something to do.

They eventually found a dispensary and Joe bought a pack of them (He actually had to use Jason’s money. Joe never brought any cash, as he didn’t think dollars were going to come in use up here. He was proved wrong). Afterwards Joe found himself with nothing else to do. However, his body gave him a suggestion when his stomach bean to growl. It had been a while since he had last eaten.

“No Joe. I doubt it. But we could ask one of the sergeants or ‘awake’ soldiers,” Jason suggested.

“Oh Joe! I saw Louis at Jalen! From what I gathered, there were very few casualties, so he should still be alive! I know Lou always has food stashed away, maybe we could get some from him?”

Joe felt an incredible urge to punch him and wipe that smirk off his face, but merely sighed.

“I don’t really feel like a three week old anchovy sandwich, so, I say we go and find the place where we get our rations.”

The sergeant’s eyes were bulging out of his head and the veins in his forehead seemed to pulsate.

“Yes sir!” Jason squeaked and like a little mouse, scampered down the hallway.

The sergeant pushed Joe latched into Joe’s arm, muttering and mumbling about how undisciplined people had become. Joe was dragged off to a cabin.

When he got there, the sergeant gave Joe a little push, but because Joe was feeling a little weak, and had a terrible sense of balance, he stumbled forward and fell in. He landed with a thump and skidded and hit the wall, head first. The sergeant moaned in annoyance.

“You’d better watch it, soldier. There is no room for clumsiness and disobedience in warfare!”

Yet Joe did not hear the advice the sergeant gave. All he could hear was his ears singing and all he could feel were thunderous waves of pain, ripping through his head.

Someone pulled him over so that he was lying on his back, though he still could not see.

A few moments later, which could be hours, minutes, seconds, he really could not tell, he felt cold-water splash onto his face and his vision came back. It doubled and then cleared.

“Jeepers, soldier, what did you do to anger the sergeant like that?” one questioned.

“Food. I just…wanted…food,” he moaned, making the sergeant look like the wrong doer.

“I’m afraid there wasn’t enough to go around the ship. Another cock up by the EA management. Sorry,” the first informed.

Joe felt his stomach growl and he shakily lifted his hands to open the pack of peanuts.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

He didn’t expect it to happen so soon. But then he didn’t expect half of the things that had happened recently.

He had a feeling, in the very pit of his stomach, that this was it. That this little device was what he had been waiting for and that it was finally complete.

He switched off his computer and the room fell into darkness. Not that he minded the dark; in fact he quite preferred it.

He would decide where to test it, although Tarantulas quite liked Kiulist as a practice ground. And why he liked this was because thanks to some strange twist of fate, all the Maximals from the Beast Wars were either there or heading there.

He wasn’t crazy for revenge, no, that was Megatron’s game, but he did like getting a treat after days of hard work…

“Scientist #47 wishing to speak to General Pernicious. It’s urgent,” he said coldly.

Tarantulas sighed. He knew that he could be holding for a long time. Especially in these high security places.

He gasped as he saw an unfamiliar form creeping towards him. He transformed into beast mode and shot up a tentacle of web onto the roof and swung away.

He swung towards the entrance/exit and with one of his eight legs, hit the switch.

The lights flickered and he landed gently on the floor, all eight eyes looking about wildly.

Tarantulas was not easily creeped so this little encounter merely aggravated him slightly.

Another rustle. He transformed into robot mode and eyed the room warily. Blank screens lined along the walls greeted him and he realised that there was in fact nowhere to hide.

Another ominous rustle from behind made him stop and swing around to find himself face to face with a female.

“Blackarachnia!” he exclaimed, shivers of shock and, Matrix forbid, slight fear travelling through him.

“Isn’t life just full of surprises?”

He took a step backwards and narrowed his optics.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she sneered, moving back a bit. Tarantulas squeezed away from her and put his COM to his ear. Happy music was playing and he was glad he was still on hold.

“I’m the Predacon army’s top scientist, and I was just about to contact a General to tell him of a fancy little device I’ve developed. And you? What task of great importance did you temporarily leave to come and annoy me?” he asked.

She smiled half-heartedly.

“It’s not what I’ve left, but what I’m going to do,” she answered.

He scowled at her.

“Oh? And what is it you are going to do? I don’t have all day to talk to treacherous females,” he muttered, refusing to show any emotions at seeing her after 17 years.

A tingle of energy ran through his shoulder guns, he was ready for an attack. She eyed his new form thoughtfully.

“You developed a transmetal up grader. I can see its effect, and I have to admit, you don’t look too shabby,” she commented.

He snorted.

“I’m not interested. Now go away you desperate femme!” he exclaimed and headed towards his chair.

She grabbed him and spun him around.

“Desperate femme?” she hissed, her face inches from his.

“You seem to have forgotten who you are talking to! The only thing I’m desperate for is power. The transmetal up grader, where is it?” she asked maliciously.

Tarantulas pulled away from her grip and shook himself.

“Females! Why are they always after me? You know, you’re the second femme who’s come in here wanting to use my equipment! Where are you all getting in from? This area is supposed to be protected!” he raged irritably.

Blackarachnia’s eye widened in surprise.

“Another femme works here?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No! She doesn’t work here and what do you mean another?”

Blackarachnia smiled sweetly.

“I’m your new lab partner!” she exclaimed, taking out a laboratory pass.

Tarantulas stared at her in horror and took a step back.

“No. No!” he exclaimed.

Just then, the general came on over the COM link.

"What are you protesting about this time?" asked the general.

A flicker of glee spilled over Blackarachnia's face.

"Oh look Tarantulas! General Fart for Brains is on your COM at last. Isn't he the general you were telling me you hated so much?" she asked loudly, knowing that this background comment the General would hear would get him into major trouble.

Tarantulas gasped and slapped a hand across her mouth.

“Sorry about that sir, my lab partner’s daughter hears nasty, untrue things about you from her MOTHER, who is also here looking very FOOLISH as you have undoubtedly heard what she feeds to her child. I apologise on her behalf,” he explained quickly, somehow manipulating the situation possibly in his favour. Blackarachnia frowned and bit his hand. He pulled it away with a squeal and pushed her outside and slammed the door. He quickly locked it.

“What on Cybertron are you talking about, lieutenant?” the general asked.

Tarantulas turned deathly pale.

“Uh…um, nothing. I’ve finished the device, shall I teleport it to Captain Balium for a test run on some of the troops?”

The general snorted in agreement.

“Yes.”

Tarantulas rubbed his head in relief.

“Thank you, sir. It will be teleported in a few moments. I trust the captain will keep you informed?”

“Yes. General Pernicious out.”

The link died and Tarantulas slid down into his chair.

He watched the door open and Blackarachnia slipped inside, a spare key in her hand.

He sighed and his shoulders drooped as she smiled vindictively.

“Why me?”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Ok, listen. I’m going to ask the captain to stop this ship. I’m going to fly you and Luna down; you can transform and ride into the city in robot mode, Luna on your back. You’re too small a target for the Predacon bombers to worry about. We’re not going to be able to get this scout ship close without being shot, so afterwards I’ll fly Tourmaline in, hovering as close to the ground as possible. That ok?” Optimus asked hurriedly.

Rattrap realised the risks involved but Primus, this was a war and everything had high risks.

“The scout ship will fly me to Aswade where I’ll arrange an air force to help you, if there are enough planes available.”

“Meet your taxi driver,” Optimus said quickly, before turning and running towards the bridge to alert the captain of his plans.

“I’m ridin’ you in on my vehicle mode. We can’t fly in coz we’ll get scrapped if we do.”

Optimus hurried to the bridge and was quick to explain to Tourmaline and the captain of what needed to be done. The captain agreed and stopped the craft in mid air, still a considerable distance from the city.

“I’ll be back for you. I’m going to fly Rattrap and Luna down now,” he explained and turned to leave.

Optimus scooped the smaller bots under his arms and placed them on his hover board. They flew to and through the escape hatch and glided through the cold air.

“Mmm. I could just fall asleep standing on this hover board,” she muttered, closing her eyes.

“Pregnant females get incredibly tired, Rattrap. It’s because they use so much energy nurturing the growing spark inside of them,” he explained.

“Heh! Well I certainly wouldn’t wanna be her patient. She just might fall asleep on da job!” he exclaimed.

They landed softly and stepped off the hover board. Rattrap transformed into vehicle mode and Optimus slumped Luna over him.

“See ya soon, boss monkey!” Rattrap cried and watched for a few moments as Optimus flew up to retrieve Tourmaline.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Megatron was mildly impressed at his office. It was nothing fancy, but it contained all he needed to make a battle plan, and of course, other things…

There was a central console ahead of him and next to it were numerous screens, all showing scenes from different cities under attack. He sat down at the console and switched on the main computer. No doubt the General could watch him on another screen working, drawing up plans etc. So Megatron’s other plan would have to be worked out in his head, at least there it was safe. Well, relatively. They could always link him up to a thought extractor and extort the information out by force...but there really was no reason for them to do so.

He sighed as he loaded up reports from Tylexia. The small Maximal town had fortified itself well. It was mainly where all the Maximal universities were situated, and some lovely little curio shops he remembered seeing years back. But that was beside the point. The point was that the universities were holding a large amount of Maximal future scientists, technicians, architects etc. and that the Predacons couldn’t have clever bots like them developing things behind their backs. There was no way they were going to let a Maximal scientist work for them, because even if they were forced to, they would design whatever it was they had to design in such a way that it would break down the instant a Predacon used it. No, Maximals were not to be trusted and though it was a shame to terminate so many young, innovative minds, it was quite necessary.

“Let’s see,” he muttered as he started homing in on the little city. His scanner/camera could only get in as far as a half a kilometre from the sentinel shield before it hit the image -jamming zone. He couldn’t get a close up from scanners, but if he got a ship to fly over and zoom in, maybe that would be better. But just where was he going to get a ship? He minimised the Tylexia cam image and stared at his desktop. There was an icon on the screen marked ‘Your Air Force’.

He opened the program and immediately a list of pilots rolled down his screen. At the top of the list were the names of the captains and lieutenants involved. Beside each name was a mini description of each pilot and their co-ordinates, which were forever changing. He clicked the main captain and immediately a picture of the captain and his various qualities and a brief profile came up. He clicked ‘contact this unit’ and a little while later, he had arranged with the captain that a scout ship would be sent to scout the area and send images to him.

Once that was done, Megatron found himself with a half hour to spare. He sat in his chair, tapping his rex head up and down thoughtfully. He wouldn’t be doing this very long. In fact, he may not ever complete his battle plan, for in his mind he had bigger fish to fry. This whole uprising was about deceit, treachery and the need to rebel.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

“We’ve arrived. It’s time to get off the train,” he informed her, looking into her eyes worriedly. The contempt was now flushed away by the fear.

“Yes, I’m ready,” she whispered. The train doors opened and she stepped out shakily. A horrible sense of knowing of what was to come and incredible déjà vu gripped her throat. Frightened passengers offloaded and were off hurried to get armoured. They were still underground, but she could already see SS climbing up the ladder through what looked like a manhole. They’d built this secret railway in an old sewage system?

A voice from behind them made them turn to see an unfamiliar captain, walking towards them.

“Lieutenants, there is a bot called Malachite who will direct you your positions and troops,” he called to them.

Diamond climbed with the odd and frightening sensation of ‘sweaty palms’, even though that was for her, physically impossible

The continuous thump thump, thump thump of her ‘heart’ banged in her ears as her world became like a dream, like a nightmare.

She clambered up into a dark building. They were on the ground floor, the doors ahead of them were shattered and loose pieces of glass were continuously falling as explosions rocked them to the floor. Bots crowded the room, all charging up their weapons and running outside into the thick, smoggy black clouds. The building was lit with temporary lamps causing an eerie, ominous, dull light. A sense of fear and urgency filled the room and she felt as if she was going to faint right then and there.

More so when as she took a step forward something dropped off a small shelf beside her. Something small that rolled along the floor and came to rest by her foot.

A marble had fallen from a broken jar, and thanks to the impact, it was cracked.

“You lead that group over there,” he said, pointing to a group of about thirty poorly armoured, terrified soldiers to her right.

“And you,” he said, gesturing at Scarlet, “take those twenty medics across to the medic base at co-ordinates 17, 43,” he instructed.

Scarlet hardly had time to answer before she was moved over briskly to the group of frightened medics. Diamond jogged over to her group.

“Take them to the Energon bank! Do you have an installed signature screen?” he called. She nodded. She’d had hers installed during the Gitrix war.

She switched it on and it immediately displayed images of the area. She could see the faint outline of buildings, the important ones marked clearly. She turned to face her new troops.

“Ok men, follow me and keep your eyes peeled for Predacons!” she ordered. They followed her without hesitation, but the fear never left them.

Everything was happening so fast, she didn’t know what she was doing. What the situation was. Were the scanners working in all this cloudy chaos? How far exactly was the medic and energon base and where was everybody? She could hear gunfire but when she stepped outside the area seemed almost deserted. But then again, she couldn’t see very far into all this ash. Her troops assembled behind her.

She watched her flickering yellow signature on her screen turn so that she was running in the direction of the energon banks. She had guessed they had needed her to help defend the obvious target.

She could feel some kind of physic force calling her. Someone was nearby, someone she was close to…

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ulextra had to admit that she felt the first real grip of fear clutch her throat when she saw that building crumble. She had been so blinded by revenge and anger that she had almost disregarded the risks and terrors of warfare. Someone grabbed her arm and she turned to see a lieutenant marked boldly ‘Standing Lieutenant’ on a badge on his chest.

She nodded and rushed over to where she could see her team assembled, holding the line around the perimeter of the medic base. The medic base was situated on the outside of the city. It had previously been quite well inside but thanks to numerous bombings it stood away from the main city and marked a kind of entrance into Kiulist. Why it was still intact she wasn’t sure, the Maximal fighter ships must have really defended the tiny area over the medic camp very well. But as she gazed up she could see less and less green marked Maximal ships and more Predacon Stealth Fighters.

She stood beside one of her comrades and lifted her gun and aimed it blindly. She couldn’t see in this ash, even this far out of the city. She glanced at her screen on her wrist and saw that is was flickering on and off. She could vaguely make out a few nearing Predacon signatures and she held her breath. Gunfire screamed around her and one by one the three red signatures disappeared and two of the greens. She was glad she was in the back line.

Suddenly the gunfire ceased, the explosions stopped, the rumble of collapsing buildings died and no more followed. A deathly silence filled the air. There was nothing except the ghostly wail of the wind and the crunching of feet in the rubble. A few confused cries were heard as the Maximals looked about wildly for their opponents. It was like a hazy dream. Nothing seemed real. Grey forms ran through the thick brown clouds and soldiers were ordered to be on full alert. She crouched there, trembling with fear and the choking feeling of terror and suspense overwhelmed her. The most frightening thing was that there were absolutely no signatures in the upper part of her screen, which marked the air. There were no ships. Her screen started flickering, as did everyone else’s. She could tell by the cursing under their breaths.

She shook her head slowly; there were countless things that were indeed very bad at the moment so she couldn’t really think of a ‘worst thing’.

“It’s that the Predacon jets are all stealth fighters. Stealth means no noise, no warning for us. Apparently they have sound proof engine rooms,” he explained.

Her eyed widened in fear. She knew little about the military, especially the air force. She realised that they now had Cyber Cars that could fly in absolute silence, but it never occurred to her that was what the air force had done.

There was a sudden hiss from the otherwise very quiet soldiers and some started banging their wrist screens angrily.

Now there was no way to tell where the enemy was, both in the air and on the ground.

The troops relied heavily on their wrist screens to see approaching Predacon signatures. She had a gut feel that this was no ash interference, especially since it was now clearing. This was a plot by the Predacons.

There was the distant sound of a vehicle and a moment later it stopped. There was no alarm so she realised it must be an approaching Maximal entering the city from the desert. She was right.

After about four minutes of terrifying silence she heard someone trudging up to her.

She turned and to her surprise she saw Rattrap, armed and ready, looking about confusedly.

“Da Lieutenant told me you were here. Say uh, where’s Cheetor and why is dis place so quiet? I thought da lines were broken,” he asked, a little anxiously.

“Can’t say much for Cheetor. The last I saw of him was running under a collapsing building. I don’t know if he made it. And I also don’t know why there is silence. One moment there are explosions everywhere, the next…well, I think we can guess this is a Predacon plot.”

“Rattrap,” Ulextra began “the Predacons are jamming our signature readers. For all we know we could have Preds walking in and out of the Medic base! I’m afraid that it’s a case of wait and see,” she explained to him.

“Hey, I got an idea! I could go in ta deir ground in beast mode. Dey won’t pick up my signature and I can see what dey are up to, ” he told her. She frowned and bit her lip.

Ulextra watched him go with mixed feelings. She wanted him to find out what they were up to; it could very well save their lives. Yet at the same time she didn’t want him to go, for she really couldn’t stand losing any more friends.

Her thoughts were quickly drawn back to watching out for enemies as the red bot beside her swore again and pointed anxiously at the clearing ash cloud ahead.

Rattrap explained his plans and his background of being a spy, his beast mode and any other important things to the lieutenant. He was glad that the lieutenant was a reasonably clear thinker and without much hassle Rattrap was assigned to the job.

Rattrap was there at the time that the lieutenant received news that the Predacon air force had been defeated, but the Maximals had as well. The air forces had basically cancelled each other out. Now it was up to the infantry, but the Predacon infantry for some unknown reason had withdrawn. And that certainly wasn’t because they were losing. The Maximals were at a loss as to what to do and this idea was the best they had at the moment.

Rattrap transformed and set out in the direction of the Predacons, or at least, where they were last seen. He was very quiet, his little rat feet hardly making a noise in the carpet of ash. He travelled through the dusty clouds at a slow, cautious pace, his spark vibrating with suspense and the transformer equivalent of adrenaline soared through him. He hadn’t travelled far when the thought that this could be his final mission hit him. And he wasn’t leaving on a very good note.

What’s wid’ you, man? You gone all soft. Leave her, she clearly wants nuthin’ ta do wid’ ya no more.

With a gentle grunt he carried on forward, all emotions tucked away and his former get-the-job-done self returned. A vague feel of déjà vu from the spy missions he carried out in the Beast Wars accompanied him.

He crept in closer, his eyes narrowed to slits in concentration. Slowly, grey forms appeared. First one or two, then a few more, then suddenly…there were hundreds.

His spark shuddered in shock as more and more soldiers crept along the shadows and when he saw a Predacon lieutenant walk past him, only metres away, he knew there was trouble. He watched, lying close to the ground behind a piece of debris blown here by explosions from the city. He was thankfully unseen by the approaching Predacons as tank hovercrafts began to emerge from the shadows. Tank hovercrafts were basically heavily armoured and very powerful crafts that hovered only a short way off the ground. They were absolutely silent and hovered in slowly until the point of attack, where they would shoot a building or the front line of a battalion, etc. then speed in, darting through soldiers and medics and slag the lot of them while support troops rushed in and assisted with the massacre. They were very powerful, and very deadly.

Rattrap watched in mute horror as the Hover Tank Squadron of about five hundred that he estimated, or could see, drifted in like a parade of death angels.

He slowly backed away and then scurried on back to his faction, glad that the Predacons were advancing so slowly.

He got back to the Maximals with moments to spare and exploded in a hoarse whisper the information he had gathered. The lieutenant he had spoken to kept a surprisingly straight face. He nodded at the end of Rattrap’s report and commended him briefly before turning to alert a sergeant. Rattrap watched him speak quietly to the sergeant and he could see by the expression on the Sgt’s face that what he had been told was not uplifting.

The lieutenant finished speaking to him and walked past Rattrap muttering, “Two can play at this game.”

“Follow me, soldier,” he commanded. Rattrap did as he was told, but the nagging worry as to what had happened to Tourmaline left him unsettled and nervous.

He followed the lieutenant to the medic base and waited outside like instructed. A few moments later, patients were carried out quietly and soldiers from the back line appeared behind him and entered the camp, helping carry out the sick and wounded. Some carried tools and medicines, others dragged out shredded bodies. Rattrap looked away, feeling a little sick after he had glanced at a bot whose neck had been slit open and who’s spark cage was visible through his shoulder, torn circuits and spilled fluid littered in his gaping chest. Someone had physically opened his chest and had ripped the spark cage four inches above its original place. Who could do such a thing?

Finally, the lieutenant came out after the base had been emptied and the patients had been carried off into the desert somewhere.

“Our troops have been ordered to retreat, but we’ve little time. So I’ve arranged a distraction with the sergeant that a small group of soldiers be left. When the squadron arrive this group will draw back and sound the sirens of retreat so that the Predacons think we’ve only retreated then. They will attack the medic base and try and kill the few soldiers that are there, but as I said, there will only be a few. There should be enough time for them to scatter and run in a different direction than to where we are headed. Hopefully this will create a temporary diversion. I’ll send off a few soldiers in back- up cyber cars to report to Aswade and arrange some ships-”

Rattrap felt that he had to interrupt the lieutenant and that the officer would not be angry when he heard why.

“Sir, I’ve arrived from a scout ship and a captain friend of mine stayed on da ship. He’s goin’ ta get ships ta come down here so dey are probably on dere way. Maybe sir, if I may suggest, you should send da cyber cars to intercept da approaching ships and warn dem ta pick us up in da desert instead,” Rattrap explained.

The lieutenant blinked as he absorbed the information, thankfully not furious at being interrupted.

“Yes, well, your job here is to watch from a distance and report to us, we will be north east of the camp, and tell us when the Predacons start to advance. And once they have realised the trick,” he told him.

Damn! He hated behaving like this. Grovelling to officers who were just normal bots behind it all…

He transformed into beast mode again and waited behind one of the millions of pieces of scrap. He watched them all retreat and hoped that Tourmaline wasn’t any of the ones that had to stay behind.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

He felt air rushing over him. He could feel hands gripping his arms and ankles and he could hear distant cries and shouts.

But that was all he could do. He was blind and his chest felt as if Rattrap had crawled in there and deposited an army of fleas. He also had the most incredible waves of nausea.

He had since registered he was alive, but barely. Occasionally all the pain would go and he’d feel at peace, like he was floating, the obvious movements of his spark towards a beckoning Matrix. Yet some unknown force was stopping his spark from leaving his torn and useless body, and this frustrated him. His time had come, and some mortal was trying to stop it. He felt himself being lowered and splayed on the ground. He could hardly feel it and realised it only by the little shudder his body made when he came into contact with the hard earth.

Yes, it was a medic camp; he could see other, injured bots being rushed in from…from a city. His progress towards it was slow. Someone was leaning on his shoulder…some…one

Hyra. He remembered now. He remembered making it inside. Then passing out. A good thing he did too, as he didn’t want to be awake to see what they’d do to him to restore him. It made sense now. The doctors were preventing his spark from escaping.

Saving his life, as they put it. Yet this time, he wasn’t too decided if he wanted to be saved.

Another jolt and he was lifted again. Where were they taking him? Why were they moving so quickly? Where was he? Kiulist? Did he actually make it that far?

………………………………………………………………………………………….

While tension was building up at Kiulist, a single ship travelled through smoggy air over miles of smoking cities. And, on this ship, there were not transformers, but humans.

“So I asked the sergeant, very politely mind you, whether there were any rations left. He got real angry for no reason and…well, the rest is history,” he told the group of curious soldiers around him.

“I swear, they must go to a course on how to be ugly to people,” one female soldier remarked.

“Wish I’d saved some of mine so I could give you some,” one remarked from the back of the room.

“You had food? Why didn’t you tell us?!” a particularly fat soldier screamed.

“Yeah,” another one began, “why didn’t you save any? Are you that selfish?”

The scared little soldier backed away, holding up his hands defensively as some advanced towards him.

Joe sensed a fight coming on and in order to save himself a further headache he stopped it.

“Fellas, fellas. There’s really no point now. When you’re as hungry as I, you can’t even think straight! All your body does is eat, eat, eat! Leave him be, he probably couldn’t help it,” Joe cooed.

The three angry men stopped and gave a final scowl at the scrawny soldier, before sitting down and grumbling.

A large, ugly man who’d originally taken no interest in Joe stood up and shuffled over to him.

“You,” the red faced man said, pointing down at Joe, “are in the wrong cabin.”

The man looked increasingly malicious and Joe decided his body wouldn’t withstand another pummelling.

“You haven’t eaten, right, so that must be heartburn,” Joe said and he then started shuffling in his pockets.

“I think I might have a few ENOs,” he muttered, but he was cut short when the big man lifted him from the neck part of his suit and breathed his foul breath down on him.

Joe counterattacked with his own foul breath and he had to admit, he had the man startled for a moment.

As he’d anticipated, the man dropped him to wipe away the eyelash and Joe ran away.

He ran down the hallway and stopped in front of an elevator to catch his breath.

No sooner had he got there than a sergeant appeared on the floor across to the right. Joe squealed and banged on the elevator controls. The door slid open and he darted inside.

He descended a few floors and later stepped out onto another windowless, badly lit floor, almost identical to the last, except dead ahead of him were toilets.

Without thinking, he rushed into one of the bathrooms and hurried to the sink, where he started slurping water desperately.

For some unknown reason, she had a handbag…and he’d had enough experiences to know that when ladies hit robbers in cartoons and they shrieked in pain, it was no joke.

Jason pulled Joe outside away from the beady-eyed women and slapped him on the face.

“Honestly Joe, you’re like an old man. In fact, you look like one. How come your face is all wrinkled like that?”

Suddenly the ship jolted and Joe fell and skidded across to the top of small flight of stairs. He toppled over the edge and slid down, on his stomach, and hit his head on the lower part of a door.

Jason rushed over to him, but he lost interest in the groin-clutching thing below as sirens started to wail.

“Arrival at Vixadonia in ten minutes, all soldiers ready yourselves and head to the exits,” a man yelled over the loud speaker.

“Come on Tinkie-Winkie, before someone opens that door on your head. It’s time for battle!!”

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Kismet turned to see Chimera, who was prancing around like a tribal dancer on a bed of ash.

They were at the edge of Kiulist and Kismet could feel the presence of her sister strongly.

Chimera floated up. That was one of her powers. She could float on and through everything, once she had her amulet.

She smiled foolishly and pointed at her burnt red feet. Usually she wouldn’t feel it, but in transformer form her body could sense pain.

“I was trying out my fire mode, and I forgot to send the cool effect throughout my whole body when
I switched to transformer mode. I forgot my feet,” she told her, expecting some kind of reprimand.

“Hurry, I sense danger is coming her way. She is but a mortal at this stage. I must change all that.”

Kismet was about to continue into the ash filled city of Kiulist when Chimera asked her a question.

“Our brother,” Kismet began, “is in no danger at present. He’s working in a station outside of Cybertron. If he’s got any sense he’ll know to stay up there, if he values his mortal spark. We will come for him once this task is complete,” she explained.

Chimera nodded and strode on forward, her eyes lit with excitement and fear. Fear. Why do they feel it? They are in no danger. The only danger for them was in fact each other, and both knew that to live the lives they were supposed to, neither of them must be harmed. So why the presence of this annoying emotion?

Chimera shook her head and watched Kismet become the wind itself and disappear into the city. Chimera followed closely behind in the same mode. Except her wind was just that much more bitter.

To Kismet’s dismay, Chimera’s powers were beginning to equal hers and soon would be greater.

And if the little fantasy child ever found out, if she ever lost interest in the whole ‘return to your roots’ idea, who knew what fate would befall her.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Whodunits had never been his favourite kind of books, which was a pity because they really could come in handy right now.

Megatron was in another dimension. Travelling through thoughts and possibilities, drifting through his mind like a cloud. He was in deep thought.

So when the harsh, piercing beep from his computer split the air, it was no surprise that he jolted and knocked his knees under the table, making the coffee mug fly and deposit its contents onto the floor and on his feet.

“I know battle plans can be frustrating Megatron, but could you keep it down in there? These walls aren’t soundproof!”

General Pernicious was a powerful bot, but if he were anything below a Megatron’s rank, Megatron would have squashed him by now.

He glanced at his computer, and to his mixed delight and weariness (if there ever was such an emotion, this was how it would feel), images from Tylexia were playing across his screen. His computer was conveniently recording it.

“This is Mercury 709 reporting twenty thousand feet over the central area of Tylexia. The images you’re receiving are exactly three seconds off recording time and are of the city itself. Do you copy?”

Megatron pressed a button on his keyboard that allowed him to make verbal contact with the pilot.

“Yes. Try and view as much of the city as you can and continue sending the images. Over,” Megatron said, his burning feet making his voice a little scratchy.

The images he saw were of a quiet, sunny day in Tylexia. It was a lovely sceneof universities. Surrounded by plants and flowers under one of the only oxygen shields in Cybertron. The universities seemed closed, but he knew that they were there. Around the perimeter of Tylexia, were industrial cities that were already under Predacon control. Should they (the Maximal occupants of the universities) want to escape, they would have to get through these cities without being detected, which was virtually impossible. So, like rabbits, they were hiding in their dorms, waiting for their great Maximal army to come and save them.

Megatron had earlier learnt that the universities were not to be bombed. Valuable educational equipment was stored within and the buildings were to be used for the Predacon youth once the uprising was over.

So it was a simple matter of sending a few troops, asking the Maximals to leave the buildings, line them up against a wall-

“Not now Captain, I’m watching important country viewing,” Megatron scolded, snorting at this strange but true comment.

“We’ve lost Hashlyn. Guerrilla warfare. We never rid ourselves fully from the Hashlyn citizens. They came out,” he said shakily, his voice choked as he relived a nightmare.

“Out from every corner. They flooded the station from trap doors under the tracks themselves. Some had been hiding in cupboards in buildings for days, surviving off energon storage they had kept during the Gitrix war. The Maximal…the Maximal…”

“The Maximal air force came back and just bombed the railway station flat.Bomb after bomb. They were all shot down, but we were baseless and then the guerrillas came. They shot everyone, then hid and reappeared again somewhere else. They captured and killed Lieutenant Xintrol...and they have…they have-“

Asphyxiate never had time to finish his tale of woe when another, Hashlyn-accented voice came on.

“Have yer captain captured. And you know what, Mr Major Megatroll, we’re not so nice an’ sweet an’ innocent an’ all that slag ya thought. Coz when ya come in here slaying our women and children, we show no mercy in our vengeance. Would ya like to hear some proof?” snarled the Maximal aggressively.

Megatron was dead still, his face turning paler and paler as the mech fluid seemed to freeze inside of him.

Megatron remained silent, staring at the images on his screen, but not actually seeing them.

“Ahh! Haaa! Please…please no,” the captain begged, his voice so full of fear and pleading that Megatron felt a shiver go through him. And he’d seen and heard of worse in the Great War, but this was real, this was now and although he could not see the events unfolding, his imagination tortured him more than any visuals could.

“You’re one captain less, we’re one city stronger. You may have thought dat we were defeated, but we was never gone. We’ve been around long enough ta know what ta do wid’ bastards like you, Megatron. And no one’s hesitating to end your temporary rule over buildings and land, coz one thing I know is, you’ll never rule us.”

His hand stroked his rex head gently and he eyed a gun hanging on the wall to his right.

He stared at it long and hard and if one were there, gazing into his eyes, they would have been stunned into silence by the dead, cold look on his face.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

Silence shrouded the air. Slowly, grey forms appeared in the smog like shadows of a nightmare. The Predacons had arrived.

It was the siren for retreat and, as the few soldiers ran away in fear, the Predacons let loose their war demons.

Rattrap watched carefully as missiles were fired at the fleeing bots, then the medic camp.

He didn’t know how long it would be before they figured out the trick, but knowing the stupidity of Predacons, Rattrap figured it’d be a while.

He spotted a few tanks going into the city to scout and he shook his head worriedly.

There were bots in there who knew not of the escape plan, and were as good as dead.

“Ha joy. Half a megacycle of watching rebels without a cause blowin’ up empty buildings...dey’ll probably take dat long anyway. Humph. By da time dey’re finished, da ships would have left without me.”

Inside he was a little anxious being out here. Alone. With a squadron of enemy hover tanks.

“Call me a pessimist, but frankly, I don’t see how I’m gonna get back in time. My goose is cooked.”

In an attempt to get into a comfortable watching position, he accidentally rolled and fell on his side.

“Ngah! Oh great, now I’m stuck!” he exclaimed as his feet flapped wildly in the air. An explosion rocked him and he skidded forward an inch or two.

Grunting and swearing, he waved his shiny feet about. He’d been turtled in this mode. It had happened to him numerous times before, and he’d always managed to get up. Yet for some reason, he just couldn’t drag himself over.

He stared at the scene ahead in a sideways view. The medic camp was gone! The soldiers gathered around the spot were yelling in confusion.

“I can just see my gravestone now. Rattrap Vermox...died in Predacon Uprising of energon deprivation cause he was stuck on his side!”

With this fit of vexation, he flung himself over (at last!) and stared at the advancing soldiers.

He spotted large, faint shadows on the ground and looked up to see ships gliding above them.

He sped off, without using his blasters so as not to attract unwanted attention and when he finally got to his group, he saw that the ships had already landed and soldiers and medics were jogging up the ramps into them. Rattrap looked about wildly for the lieutenant.

“Sorry ta break it to ya, MR Lieutenant sir, but da Pred’s figured us out and saw da planes. You better tell yer men to haul deir buts up into dem ships quickly, coz we’re outta time!”

He looked about for her, but there were streams of soldiers pouring into ships and she could be on anyr of them.

An angry corporal (was it just him or were corporals and sergeants always angry?) grabbed him and hauled him up a ship. Rattrap gave up trying to look for her and let himself be dragged into the over grown tuna fish, or at least that’s what it looked like.

There really was no point in looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

It was a small building; most of the energon was stored below. Surely the Predacons would not destroy these precious resources. It was more likely they would send in raiders, who would kill and take. And if watching Cybertron War videos was any proof, she knew the Predacons were pretty ruthless.

She looked up the line of soldiers, lying low with their weapons aimed. All looked nervous, and some weren’t even holding them correctly. Some were babies, she could see by their naive, inexperienced faces and the shivers that went through them.

The Maximals surrounded the energon banks and waited. They waited for what felt like eternity. Where were the Predacons? Where were the non-commissioned officers? Why was she the only commander here and where were the rest of the troops? More had been promised. How was she supposed to defend it with just fifty soldiers?

Crazy, disorganised-

A scream brought her attention to approaching dark shadows in the ash clouds. Shadows she knew could only belong to Hover-Tanks.

“From what I can see, there are lots of them. A squadron that has most likely take out the outer defence. There are about fifty of them we can see, each one capable of taking out a building and 30 men before you know what hit you. There are fifty of us. Most inexperienced, scared, confused or just downright tired,” she explained, walking up and down her line of troops, knowing that the squadron was approaching slowly, for now.

“Our options? Surrender and die, the Predacons have made it clear they want Cybertron rid of Maximals. Run away? Where to? There’s a desert one way and behind us another city that’s under current Predacon rule. Fight? Unless there’s a miracle, we’re going to perish. Hide? Not going to work. Grab a batch of energon cubes each, stand in front of the reserve like tree huggers and say ‘you’ll have to shoot me first and destroy half the energon before you take this –”

“Ah screw the long speech, fire at will!!” she screamed and turned and aimed her weapon at the now active tanks.

Her attentive, but indecisive men were slow to react, but they soon began firing at the tanks.

The front line of tank drones were advancing rapidly and not one had gone down yet. Either her troops couldn’t aim, or the tanks had improved their armoury since she last fought…

She took up arms and fired repeatedly at the closest tank. They were soaring in like swordfish, gracefully, powerfully. And they were the prey. Within seconds they’d be on top of them and it’d all be over.

They were out of the ash now, and their ugly spiked heads were revealed. They reminded her of floating hedgehogs, though this thought was hardly comforting.

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Digging your way out of tons of rubble was never pleasant, but it wasn’t the first time. He’d been buried under trees, boulders and other transformers in the Beast Wars and the Gitrix war. It may have taken a while, but he was out, scratched, bruised and filthy.

The scene before him almost made him topple back into the hole he’d just dug through.

Dead ahead were hundreds of tanks, moving at rapid speeds towards the energon banks. There was a tiny defence firing in vain, and only one officer by the looks of it. He focused his vision. Transformers can focus on distant targets, which was handy.

He sprinted towards the scene, not sure what he was actually going to do once he got there, but thinking frantically as he approached. He skidded to a halt, still undetected, and hid behind a pile of rubble. He watched as a shot moved towards her, almost as if in slow motion. It was going to hit her. Behind her, there was virtually no one. At least thirty were out already.

Tyrax-laser fire was faster than the carefully planned neutrobullet of the tank. He aimed his weapon and fired it, running towards her as he did so. The yellow of his laser fire streaked across in a millisecond, and hit her on her side. She fell; the green flash missed and hit another soldier behind, killing him instantly. His bullet had hurt her, certainly, but it had saved her, for now.

She had let out a shocked, terrified scream that hurt him probably more than it did her.

She lay on the floor, holding her side and tried to get up. Like a starling hit by a pellet gun, dazed but alive.

Another huge roar and Cheetor was about to give up when he thought it might be the squadron letting out their full force of fire, but a dark shadow made all halt and look up. A ship hovered in the sky, a bright purple light forming in the centre of its underbelly. Grandly silhouetted in the centre was the Maximal signature. He smiled with utter relief. Cheetor had not known that the air force was gone and he never understood the full miracle of this lone ship. It was a rescue ship, but nowadays all rescue ships are armed. The purple light focussed on the squadron and in an instant there was a bright flash and pieces of tank went flying.

He opened his eyes again and realised that the ship hadn’t destroyed all, but had weakened the front offensive drastically. It was now lowering itself and from the bottom centre, a metal pod was dropped. An enormous metal pod. It opened on impact and the soldiers rushed in after a shriek from their commander gave them the orders to do so.

Diamond still lay on the floor, struggling to rise. And not a single soldier stopped to help. Like terrified rabbits, they scrambled inside the pod and Cheetor knew what he had to do. He jogged over to her, in clear view now, but the squadron was too busy regrouping to bother. He came up next to her and realised he’d badly scathed her left side. Her eyes were squeezed shut in pain and she cursed and moaned. He bent over and picked her up and she looked at him through tired eyes.

He smiled faintly and stepped into the pod. Moments later, a magnetic beam hauled the pod back into the ship.

A rescue ship was here because Kiulist was history. They had lost the city. But somehow it seemed unimportant as he gazed down at the dirty, but still beautiful femme in his arms. So young, yet she’d already seen more than some twice her age.

……………………………………………………………………………………..