Troubled Times

By: Zucca

Silverbolt sighed softly, looking across the plains as he stood on a tall pinnacle. He and Blackarachnia had recovered the stasis pods that had fallen, and both had become fine new Maximals.

His mind was focused on the three that had not been recovered.

Try as he might, he could not remember his former identity before his crash landing on Earth alongside his ‘brother’ Quickstrike.

He knew that they were comrades, Maximals pure and true, and that the three that landed in Predacon ground by now have undoubtedly been sequestered by Megatron’s wiles.

He felt his powerful new Transmetal 3 senses reaching over the landscape. He felt so in touch with the world around him, it was as if it were an extension of himself.

These abilities however, seemed to come with a price. It took focus to get his head out of the clouds of higher sensory awareness and into the moment. He had been diligently training to master his senses and attain his center again, but it wasn’t easy.

Meanwhile, Rhinox had been performing experiments on him, trying to find out if there were any side effects that might occur.

True enough, he often woke up at Blackarachnia’s side in beast mode, feeling strange, alien urges. He’d look at her and feel a surging of desire, but it was the kind of desire that was based off pure lust.

It took only a few moments to ease his loins, transform and take a breather, realizing that his beast mode was becoming a great deal more dominant.

He’d shake his head, rub his metal-plated muzzle and wake up fully, chastising himself for such impure thoughts.

He always dreamt too…

Strange dreams that didn’t seem to make any sense, and by the time he was fully awake, he’d forgotten them.

Silverbolt sighed and looked into a mirror he carried. The face that stared back was very wolven, with a long snout and tall ears. Where he deviated from a typical wolf was the feathers sweeping back from his jaw to behind his ears, as well as the long, silvery hair that began on his brow and swept back to his waist. A coating of shiny silver metal covered the top of his head from the start of his snout to the point where his hair began, the lower jaw of his muzzle was organic. He retained his expressive, golden eyes still.

Silverbolt took another deep breath and sighed, focusing on the here and now again. He swiftly withdrew his senses, drew his new carbine rifle with lightning speed and fired a blank at a target set up four hundred yards away.

“88.40 percent accuracy.” His internal computer piped up.

Silverbolt groaned in irritation.

“Not good enough… that could mean the difference between life and death.” He muttered. He extended his senses again, letting his mind become absorbed into the landscape again.

He repeated his exercise, firing his rifle again.

“84.20 percent accuracy.” The computer said.

Silverbolt growled in frustration. Getting used to a new weapon was a challenging prospect. His fists clenched in anger and he punched out a section of rock from behind him, uncharacteristically violent.

“Slag! How in the name of the pit am I to adapt to this?!” He roared, his wings curling behind him and pointing over his shoulder, clenching as well. “I’d give anything to have my wing missiles back…” He mumbled in frustration.

Swearing wasn’t indicative of his behavior either. Waspinator watched the Transmetal class 3 Fuzor and noted this. He buzzed up next to him. “Doggy-bot having trouble? Wish you had different weapon?”

Silverbolt nodded glumly. “Yes… I’m used to just looking where I want my shots to go. I keep hitting the target, but not the center. These blasted senses keep interfering with my focus!”

Waspinator nodded. “At least you hit target. Waspinator not very good shot.” He said, taking aim at the target and launching a dart missile.

“30.6 percent accuracy.” The computer said.

“See? Doggy-bot not so bad. Just need to get used to hand-held guns, that’s all.” The wasp said helpfully.

Silverbolt nodded slowly. “Yes… thank you, Waspinator. I have… not been in the best of moods lately. That may have something to do with my… grouchy behaviour.” He said, still disappointed in himself.

“Doggy-bot been at shooting range all day. Spider-bot sent Waspinator to get you.” He said.

Silverbolt looked up. “My dear one requires my presence?”

Waspinator scratched his head, then nodded. “Yup, what you said.”

Silverbolt transformed and stood up on all four legs. His shaggy silver fur suddenly tucked itself against his skin, his wings curled up, forming jets. His legs tucked up as his tail spread while he rose off the ground, launching off at the speed of sound.

Waspinator’s eyes went wide before he too transformed and flew after the fuzor. “Waspinator think doggy-bot really love spider-bot.” He said, giggling to himself and flying along back to the ark.

Rattrap was keeping close watch on the monitors, having gotten into the habit of drinking a cup of coffee before his watch to help keep himself awake. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun. He played a game of solitaire in between glancing over the monitors.

“This is Silverbolt to Maximal base, please come in.” The white knight’s voice asked over the comms.

Rattrap leaned up. “Dis’ is Rattrap. What’cha need, bird-dog?”

“Could you open the gates for myself and Waspinator please?” He asked.

Rattrap yawned, thumbing the main gate switch and waiting for his friends to come into the base.

Rattrap heard the jets of the class 3 Transmetal fade just behind him.

Silverbolt came up behind Rattrap and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s good that you’ve improved your monitoring habits!” He exclaimed.

Rattrap shrugged. “Just don’t want any Preds givin’ us an unhappy wake-up call.”

A tall female Maximal walked into the command center, stretching as if she’d just woken up. “Ah, hello Silverbolt’n Rattrap.” She said, brushing a hand through her long mane of wine-red hair. Her beast mode was that of a horse, a quarter-horse to be exact. She was a Transmetal, but for reasons even Rhinox couldn’t explain, kept her fur. Her normal mode was quite curvy and slightly Amazonian, as opposed to Blackarachnia’s small, almost petite frame. She had bright blue, luminescent eyes, her metallic parts mostly gunmetal gray, blue and red. Her face had very fine features, pouty lips and an almost elven look to her ears which protruded from the helmet she wore.

Her beast mode was a solid chestnut furred horse with a long mane of red hair that carried on to her normal mode.

Rattrap looked to her and grinned widely. Silverbolt couldn’t tell if the rodent had a crush on the busty Maximal, but had a sneaking hunch.

“Heya Thundermare! Ready fer’ your shift?” He asked, his scarlet eyes tracing her each and every curve.

Silverbolt noticed this and elbowed him. “Have respect for a lady, Rattrap.” He muttered under his breath, much to Rattrap’s relief. He’d have been humiliated if Silverbolt made a big deal out of it in front of the new Maximal.

The Maximal equine grinned and nodded. She had been chief of security for the Axalon, and was a marine in the Maximal Navy back on Cybertron. They’d all been relieved when they discovered that her memories were intact. “Of course, Rattrap.” She said in a perky dialect that had a trace of British in it.

“Could’ja use some company? I dun got any other jobs that Big-Banana assigned,” Rattrap asked.

Silverbolt shook his head slowly. Rattrap was the Cybertronian equivalent of fifty years of age. He hadn’t asked Thundermare her age, but she seemed fairly young for an adult. Though another part of Silverbolt reminded himself not to chastise. He had bridged a gap with love between Maximal and Predacon, so surely age wasn’t an issue, right?

She let out a soft nicker, a habit of her beast mode, and sat down at her station. “I’d be honored, good sir.”

Rattrap looked like a little boy who’d just gotten his first bicycle, a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Silverbolt chuckled softly and went back to the quarters he and Blackarachnia shared. He found his beloved at her workstation, typing something on the terminal.

“Hello Silverbolt.” She said, smiling up at him. Transmetal 3 sat next to Transmetal 2, the two of them leaning against each other.

“What, if I may ask, is that you are working on?” Silverbolt asked.

“Plans for blowing up Optimus. Wanna help?” She said with a grumble.

Silverbolt’s wolven ears stood up before relaxing down again. “What did he say this time?”

She growled. “It’s not what he said. It’s what he did. He had that butt-kissing Inferno, who by the way is now a Transmetal, under his foot and instead of crushing him like he should have done, he kicked him away! How’s that ape figure us on winning this war if we don’t get some kind of upper hand?!”

Silverbolt nodded slowly. “I understand my love. I have had… similar concerns. Optimus had friends in the pods, you must understand. Crushing Inferno may mean putting someone who put his life in Optimus’s hands to death. He is trying to exhaust the Predacon’s options. Frankly, I believe success in our grasp for now. Megatron’s having an increasingly hard time finding energon to use, and as soon as we find out where Tarantulas’s lair is located, we can remove that resource from Megatron’s list permanently.”

Blackarachnia looked at him, her eyes wide with both concern and unpleasant shock. “Fine to kill a Predacon and not a Maximal, huh? Silverbolt… I thought you knew better…”

Silverbolt felt his spark skip a pulse. He knew he said it, but didn’t know why. “I-I am sorry. I was mistaken… we should take him prisoner then and seal him in stasis. No, all of them. That way the Maximals who’ve been converted can be turned back and the true Predacons can be given a fair trial back on Cybertron.”

She smiled, stroking his muzzle softly. “There ya’ go. Looks like we both had a little brush with violence.”

Silverbolt looked down in shame. “Yes… let us speak of other things, shall we?”

Blackarachnia grinned. “Like how your new body’s doing. How do you feel? Waspinator said you were at the weapons range again. What’s your latest accuracy?”

Silverbolt sighed. “Nothing above ninety percent. It was 88.40%.”

Blackarachnia blinked. “What’s wrong with that? You shoot better than Cheetor.”

Silverbolt raised a brow. “What’s his accuracy?”

“85.66%.” She said, patting his shoulder.

Silverbolt rolled his eyes. “Was he boasting it to gain your favor?” He asked, his voice edgy.

Blackarachnia frowned. “Silverbolt! What’s gotten into you? You’ve been on that kid’s case ever since he looked at me sideways! Give it a rest, will ya? I’m your girl, and the sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better!”

Silverbolt clenched his fists, then sighed, relaxing a bit. “I… I apologize…” He said.

“Accepted, but why do you have your feathers in such a bind? You’ve been a major-league grouch ever since you went Transmetal.” Blackarachnia said, hands on her hips.

Silverbolt turned away, head hanging. It began when he noticed Cheetor getting particularly close to Blackarachnia. He felt torn between camaraderie and love. He’d worked so hard, gone through so much, and unknowingly risked the existence of every Maximal and Predacon alive for his beloved. He didn’t want to see her become charmed by the youth and leave him.

Indeed, he had risked much. When Optimus had returned from the wreckage of the Axalon after Rampage destroyed its foundation and sent it plummeting, he’d given Silverbolt an enraged lecture. The Transmetal Fuzor winced, remembering his leader’s harsh words that day. While Optimus had inherited his ancient ancestor’s power, compassion and abilities, he also inherited his conviction.

“You fool! You stupid, delusional fool! Do you have any idea how close we all came to being erased from existence?! Not just the Maximals here on Earth, but ALL of them, period! You helped dig to the Ark! If you had just brought Blackarachnia back as you were supposed to, our base wouldn’t have been destroyed and we all would not have to go through this!!”

Silverbolt looked at his feet, his heart heavy. He knew Optimus’s every word was true. The Maximal/Autobot fusion gave him a greater wisdom, and now all it was focused on what Silverbolt had done.

“Do you have any idea how close we all came to oblivion?!” The towering Maximal General bellowed.

“I-I do, sir… Please, forgive my actions. I did not realize what Blackarachnia was after here.” The Fuzor said meekly.

Optimus glowered. “Exactly. You didn’t think ahead. You were so distracted by the she-spider that you never stopped to think about what she might be after!” He shouted. The colossal Maximal leaned down, getting his face as close to Silverbolt’s as possible. “You listen good, Silverbolt. When I give an order, it’s not because I enjoy power or making you do something you’d rather not. It’s because I have placed trust in you to fulfill the pact you made back on Cybertron, remember it or not. We’re in a war for survival and until it’s over, I fully expect you to keep your emotions to yourself and stick to your duty. Am I clear, Maximal?”

Silverbolt’s head hung in shame and guilt, his leader’s words hanging heavily in his mind. “Y-Yes, sir.” He said.

“Dismissed.” Said Optimus.

Silverbolt turned back, shoulders slumped, heart heavy.

“Oh, and Silverbolt.”

The Fuzor turned around.

“Thank you for going through Hell to add another member to our ranks.” Optimus said, his tone having softened. “You may spend time with her on your off-hours.”

Silverbolt shook his head. “No Blackarachnia, I am quite alright. I have just felt… strange since my transition.”

“Maybe you should see Rhinox.” She suggested.

“You are correct, my lady.” He said, walking in the direction of the lab.

Blackarachnia looked in worry to her lover. Something was wrong with him. Physically, mentally or emotionally, something was just plain wrong.

She went to their quarters and logged into the terminal under Silverbolt’s name and hacked his password. “Aww Bowser, it’s my name backwards.” She commented, noticing what the code ended up being.

She dug until she found his journal datatracks. “If he catches me doing this, it’ll be an hour-long trust lecture. Of course I’d deserve every second of it…” She muttered, looking up the entries since his Transmetal ascension.

“Entry date 20/5/2374. My dreams are becoming more bizarre, haunted by images of aliens that are as mist is to air. They speak, and I understand them, but I can never remember what they say. What are they trying to tell me? Why are they appearing now? It is part of my new form. I know it. It is almost maddening, being able to sense as much as I can now. I know I should ask Blackarachnia for help, she surely went through such a transition when she became a Transmetal 2. Or did she? Did Cheetor for that matter? Or is it just me? I would ask her, but I mustn’t appear weak in front of her. She cannot know of this weakness in me, lest her faith in my protection of her wane.”

“Oh Silverbolt… you don’t have to hide anything from me.” Blackarachnia thought.

“I have had little time to think about it, instead working to hone my skills. These blasted enhanced senses interfere with my accuracy. I am hardly used to hand-held blasters. I have found that my new form bears wing-mounted missiles as before, but my new weapon seems far more powerful. I have discovered that my new form also has a pair of swords that will prove useful in melee combat. I have no clue as to what my other capabilities are, but rest assured, I shall discover them. Hopefully through safe circumstances.” Silverbolt’s log continued.

“Other thoughts, I grow tired of this war and tired of the stalemate. Megatron will not stop. I should have destroyed him when I had the chance… He has caused too much suffering already. Many of the stasis pods holding our comrades have been destroyed upon landing, and others, like poor Transmutate, suffered from mutations that ultimately led to the prejudice that destroyed her. Curse those fools for not listening to me, and curse me for returning fire on Rampage… had I seen Transmutate descending to put herself between our weapons, I’d have never fired, and in my heart, I believe neither would have Rampage. As for most of the others to come from the pods, we have lost our memories of who we were on Cybertron. I try not to let it bother me, but the curiosity always comes up. Optimus and the other original skeleton crew cannot help, as they did not meet most of the crew before the launch of the Axalon. So many things on my mind, yet so few solutions…”

“What’s with you, Silverbolt? Why’ve you got such a chip on your shoulder?”

“Megatron’s wiles must be stopped. I believe that with my new abilities, I can help us accomplish this endeavour. Whether destruction or capture, I will stop him. I sense something large is coming. I just wish I knew what… Well, I must return to the shooting range to continue my training. Keep your hopes of a better future alive, Silverbolt. It is closer than you know. Keep Blackarachnia in your heart. She is everything to you.”

“Oh Silverbolt… you’ve got a way with words even in your datatracks. But what are you hiding from me? What are you hiding from yourself?” She thought to herself. She heard heavy footsteps outside the door and swiftly withdrew from the terminal.

In walked the Transmetal 3 Fuzor, looking tired and unkempt.

“Rhinox found nothing wrong. Then again, he has no idea what to look for in this… new form.” He mumbled, sitting down on their bed.

Blackarachnia considered telling him about digging into his journal datatracks. She knew he’d be very upset. On the other hand, he’d appreciate her honesty. Or would he? He’s been having strange mood swings. He’s uncomfortably unpredictable. She sighed to herself, wishing she had the Silverbolt she’d met that day when they fought over the energon station destined to be Tarantulas’s new lair.

No… she didn’t. Part of her wished to return to blissful innocence, while an older, wiser part, reminded her that everyone changes, and when it comes to those you love, you have to do your best to help them through their change.

Tarantulas changed once, and Blackarachnia swore off ever trying to pull seductive tricks on him. That was even before she became a Maximal.

She gently laid a hand on his chest from behind, kissing his neck. The avian lupine turned, wings curled up and he took her in his arms, kissing her lips with a fiery passion she’d never before felt, as if his very lifeblood flowed from her.

She panted softly, looking into his gentle golden eyes. “Silverbolt…” She whispered.

“My love…” He whispered back, a hand cupping her face tenderly as he returned her gaze. “You are uneasy. What troubles you?” He asked.

She looked away, not wanting to tell him what was really on her mind. “You’re… different, Silverbolt… You’ve changed since you’ve become a Transmetal.”

Silverbolt chewed his lower lip apprehensively. “Rhinox said that the changes weren’t limited to the physical…” He said.

“I know. It’s scaring me, Silverbolt. I’ll be blunt. It’s scaring me. It’s like a piece of you died when you became Transmetal. Know this, Silverbolt. I loved you just as much then as I do now, but you’ve got to talk to somebody about what I know you’re hiding.”

He looked confused. “What I am hiding?”

Blackarachnia looked away. “I… looked in your journal datatracks… I’m worried for you…”

If Silverbolt was mad, he didn’t show any signs of it. “I see… what prevented you from asking me how I felt?”

Blackarachnia got up and off the bed. “Because I was worried you would lie to me.”

Silverbolt gently put a hand on her shoulder, the soft breeze of his words caressing her raven hair. “I have never lied to you before, Blackarachnia. Never do I intend to.”

She nodded, standing up. “I know… but I was afraid. I just wanted confirmation.”

Silverbolt stood up and looked down in disappointment. “I need to be alone.” He muttered, walking out of the door slowly.

“Silverbolt…!” She called after him.

“Leave me alone. You have made your lack of trust in me clear.” He said, a stinging bitterness and sadness in his voice.

Blackarachnia stood there, her knees feeling weak beneath her. “Why did I tell him?” She asked herself, sighing as she laid down, not wanting to pursue him and make things worse.

Rattrap sat at the security station, looking over what looked like a piece of yellow metal.

Silverbolt came, sat down and sighed. “What is that?” He asked, trying to get his mind off the incident moments past.

“Dis’ here, Bird-dog, is my last hunk’a Waspinator. Optimus told me to get rid of my collection since he’s part a’ da’ team now.”

Silverbolt was about to scold him when someone came up behind him, clasping a hand on his back.

It wasn’t Thundermare as he’d hoped, but the other new Maximal. A female who named herself Bounder, who like her comrade Thundermare, recalled her life on Cybertron due to the stability of energon on the planet.

Bounder was a former Predacon who joined the Maximal exploration corps to prove herself worthy of joining the military, taking it one step at a time. She was one of the soldiers assigned to keeping an eye on Protoform X.

Her beast form was that of a kangaroo, and not surprising. She spoke with a light Australian accent.

Bounder’s beast mode looked like a towering, glossy blue Transmetal kangaroo. When maximized, she stands at full seven feet tall. She had deep, deep blue eyes, her metallic skin being blue through and through. Marring that was reddish metallic plating over her chest and legs. Her face looked gaunt and rough, like her face rarely knew a smile and was just recently learning to do it more often.

Bounder clasped a hand over Silverbolt’s shoulder. “Oi! What’s the ruckus? Is that there one of that bloke Waspinator’s parts?”

Silverbolt was about to speak when Rattrap spoke up. “Yeah. Da’ little guy used to be a Pred before he joined us. I used ta’ collect his parts when he got blown up. This ‘ere is da’ last piece in my old collection.” He said, then tossed it into the recycler. “He’s a Maximal now, so it ain’t right ta’ keep his parts around.”

Silverbolt was momentarily surprised by this, but recalled that Rattrap had gone through great lengths to try and restore his old friend, Dinobot’s personality, so he seemed more tolerant than Silverbolt expected.

Bounder smirked. “Good on you, mate.” She quipped, then started walking off. “I’m gonna find that big hot-bot Optimus and see if he has any plans for this evening. He keeps turning me down, but I’ll get to him.” She said, grinning.

Rattrap smirked. “I’ll bet ya’ he’ll give da’ usual answer.”

Silverbolt frowned. “Milady Bounder, it would not be right to pursue Optimus in this situation. As our leader, he is burdened with great responsibility and…”

Bounder raised a hand, stopping him in mid-sentence. “Bloke, you’re a sweet guy and your heart’s a might’ in the right place. But your bloody sermons make me real cross.”

Silverbolt sighed. “It is not about me, I speak of Opti-“

“Grr! If I throw a stick, lupine, will you run away?” She snapped, stomping off to find the captain of the Axalon.

Silverbolt shook his head slowly. “She is bound to be in for a disappointment. Optimus is not one to enter such things in wartime.”

Rattrap snickered. “You’re the ideal model of dat’ arent’cha bird-dog?”

Silverbolt felt a surge of anger, clenching his fists. He let out a breath, shaking his head slowly. “I do not have the responsibility of leading us on our hands, Rattrap.” The TM3 said softly.

Rattrap shrugged, turning in his chair back to the monitors. “Pfeh. Let’s face it. I’d never want that job. I think you’d be good fer’ it if you got your feathers outta da’ bind.”

“No, I would not.” Silverbolt said softly, then turned away, walking to the other monitors to gaze into them, trying to distract himself.

Rattrap looked over at his comrade. The light from the screen flickered on his wolf-like face. “What’s eatin’ you, Bolt?”

Silverbolt sighed. “Normally I would not complain about things, but I suppose I need to relieve my burden… Blackarachnia and I got into a… fight.”

Rattrap shrugged. “Oh, who won?”

Silverbolt groaned, shaking his head. “Not that kind of fight. We had an argument… she dug through my personal journal datatracks…” He murmured.

Rattrap gasped. “I thought that nutty floatin’ ball cured her o’dat! Ain’t she supposed to be a good girl now?” Rattrap asked, verbal stress tones rising as his mind mulled over possibilities. What if she broke into HIS records? If she found some of the things he said about her, Maximal or not, she’d be pissed.

Silverbolt nodded slowly. “Have I become that untrustworthy? Can I not even keep her?”

Thundermare walked into the bridge, yawning. “Cripes, looks like I’m not the only one who can’t get any sleep around t’ere.” She asked with her Southern twang.

Rattrap smiled upon seeing her. “Hey ‘dere Thunda’.” He greeted, waving to her. “You got insomnia too?”

Thundermare shook her head. “Nah. I’m just an early riser. Gets the worm and all that.” She said with a blithe wave of her hand. It was obvious that it wasn’t the truth, but Rattrap uncharacteristically left it alone.

Silverbolt sighed. “I suppose I had best go back to my quarters and see how Blackarachnia is doing.”

The Transmetal 3 avian wolf walked back, his mind clouded.

Megatron smiled fondly, seeing Inferno stand as a Transmetal, his whole body of shiny red metal and antflesh. He let out a scream of exhilaration that almost brought a tear of mirth to Megatron’s eye.

An array of jets on the ant’s legs sent him flying at incredible speeds around the lab. He let out his maniacal laugh. “HA! I am surely far greater than before! I may serve the royalty even better!”

Megatron smiled broadly, seeing the three new Predacons emerging from the stasis pods. Two females, one male it would seem. The male was a large horned-toad with giant metal spikes. His black hide was glossy, hinting his Transmetal nature. He chuckled softly. “Loco, Terrorize!” He shouted, the Predacon activation code echoing in the chamber. Seconds later, a Predacon stood. He was quite handsome as Cybertronians go. His robotic components were pale in color, contrasting the black of his beast mode shell. He grinned, his beast mode’s claws had pulled back on his arms and could be drawn as weapons. He felt a pair of blaster pistols at his sides and grinned. “Nice. Who’ja wanna kill?” He said in what seemed to be a Mexican accent, his green eyes looking over his surroundings.

Megatron smirked. “Eager to destroy even before knowing where he is. Tarantulas may be untrustworthy, but his Predacon shell programs are pieces of art. Yeeess.”

 Loco looked to Tarantulas. “Hey, are you who I work for, man? Mr. Eight Legs?”

“If only…” Tarantulas thought angrily to himself. “No. You now serve Megatron.” Said the conniving spider in his raspy voice. “What a shame I cannot dissect these specimens. Though none would ever compare to her…” He thought. Blackarachnia, the once and future Maximal who he had tried to use to ease his loneliness, still plagued his thoughts to this day.

“The witch doesn’t deserve to survive. All because of that lapdog of hers. Him of all Cybertronians! The first Transmetal 3! This alien technology has altered nearly all of us. We would be strangers back on Cybertron. Each stage of Transmetalization has infused increasing amounts of power into us. What has it done to that Maximal?” The sadistic spider thought to himself.

Loco came up behind Tarantulas. “Yo senor spider. What’s the deal? You lookin’ a leetle preoccupied. Aren’t ya’ gonna show us around the casita?”

Tarantulas growled in irritation. He already knew Megatron was watching and understood the consequences of disloyalty.

“Err, yes. Right away.” He mumbled.

“Awright, amigo! Tha’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

The two females were speaking under their breath. Tarantulas looked back at them suspiciously and snorted.

The first of the two females was a small framed vixen, currently in beast mode. She was quite Transmetal, but unlike most, still bore fur. Her coat was mostly dark red, her underside milky white. Her paws were metallic, and black in color. Upon transforming, her body turns upright, forelegs folding into subspace to reveal her slender arms. Her legs remained beastial, but extended a full foot. Her tail remained out and was usually held high. Her face resembled Airazor’s, but her nose was more defined and the top of her beast mode head folded over the top, looking like a shaman’s fox-head cap. The rest of her pelt was draped over her back, and long, wine-red hair spilled over her smooth shoulders. Should she decide to arm her weapons, a missile launcher would slide out of either wrist like double-barreled shotguns.

The vixen, whose name was Felony, transformed and leaned against the bulkhead nearby. “Yeah, I’d like to have a look around this place. What’re we up against?” Felony asked Tarantulas as the four walked through the dark corridor out of the lab.

Tarantulas snorted. “Maximals.” He said. “In some cases, aliens as well.” He said.

Loco sniggered. “Aliens? As in ‘Beam me up’? As in little green men?” He scoffed in his Mexican dialect.

Tarantulas sighed. “No, as in beings with the power to create pure energon.”

A gasp came from the back where the other new Predacon female walked.

“Create it? Create energon? That would explain why the stasis pods had trouble, why I couldn’t remember my Predacon heritage.” She said matter-of-factly.

Tarantulas snickered to himself. “My shell program also helped you ‘remember’.” He thought.

The new Predacon bore the beast mode of a German Shepard. Her partially Transmetal nature left her beast mode looking like nature had thrown a German Shepard and a helicopter into a blender on liquefy.

In beast mode, she looked mostly like a dog, though the area along her back had armored rivets, the top of her head was armored and her feet were metal, with equally metal claws. In vehicle mode, her legs became ski-like struts that unfolded from the metal parts of her legs, and the metal plating on her back slid open to unfold into a rotor. Her tail opened up to become a vertical rotor and she became a helicopter.

She was one of the scientists assigned to the Axalon, less of a soldier and more of a researcher. She was highly skilled in geology and high-end sensors, such as the kind the Axalon had before it’s demise.

Her name was Alluvia.

She didn’t have any onboard weapons to speak of, but Tarantulas gave her a quasar gun similar to Cheetor’s old weapon. Her other form was smooth and graceful, colored primarily with brown and black, her beast form folded up on to her back while her legs emerged from her belly, her rear legs unfolding to become her arms, much like Dinobot’s transformation. She looked conservatively armored, and her face was brownish colored with thin lips and big eyes that were black with blue light.

Tarantulas showed the trio around base, introducing them to the crew. All of them swiftly became wary of Rampage, and became even more nervous when Tarantulas explained the immortal’s unique standing. He advised they avoid him, for Tarantulas still bore scars on his mind from when he was torn apart by the menacing titan. 

When all four Predacons came to the command center on hoversleds, Megatron himself welcomed them.

Megatron smiled magnanimously, confident that since they had newer shell programs, they could not defect.

He knew that the shell program, Tarantulas’s greatest invention, would be a turning point on Cybertron. When he returned, in the event of failure to alter the timeline, he would use the spider’s innovative technology to turn the Maximals into Predacons, whether or not they liked it. That way, rather than another bloody war breaking out, killing many on both sides.

“Greetings my new Predacons. I welcome you to my ship, the Darkside, yeees. Well, it is more of a fortress now. This is Earth, four million and six-hundred years ago, that is. We Predacons are in a desperate plight against a force of Maximals who have also made planetfall here. They have holed up in a volcano and use it as their base. Ah, and not just any volcano, yeees. It is the volcano that houses the Autobot Ark that holds our noble Decepticon ancestors!”

Alluvia gasped. “No! That can’t be! They’ll alter the timeline! Our ancestor’s are in danger!”

Felony chuckles softly. “Life’s a bitch, to be sure. Wonder if they have access to the Ark already?”

Loco scratched his head, obviously not as well read as his comrades.

Megatron chuckled softly. “My dear err.. Loco, the Ark is a great ship that houses our ancestors, the Decepticons. The Maximals could choose at any time to destroy them, and end our existence just like that. Yeees.”

Loco shrugged. “Well then let’s go git’ them, ah?”

Megatron rolled his eyes. “That is part of our problem, my dear Loco. They are a ruthless lot who have fortified that cavern and hold our ancestor’s hostage. We are not just in this war for survival, noo. We are in it for our very existence, yes!”

Loco groaned. “Dangit man… why couldna’ it be jus’ aliens or jus’ Maximals?”

Megatron turned his command chair to a viewscreen. “Because, Loco. The universe is unkind. It favors the strong. Strong, we shall be. Yeees.”

Loco found himself doing recon duty with Alluvia, the two of them keeping tabs on the Maximal base and reporting activity. They perched up in the same place Rampage and Inferno had staged their attack the day Depth Charge arrived. So far, they had seen the Transmetal 3 wolf/eagle leave on a patrol of some sort. A TMII spider seemed to want to go along, but they had some kind of argument outside the gates to the base and the wolf/eagle went alone.

“Damn man, that there’s a fine lookin’ lady.” Loco said softly.

Alluvia snorted. “Looks slutty to me.” She said.

Loco smirked. “What’s wrong with that, ya’?”

The geologist sighed. “Keep your voice down, we might be spotted.”

“Like this?” Came a voice from behind them.

They both spun around to see the powerful TMIII, Silverbolt, both his wings pointed at them, cluster missiles at the ready, his carbine rifle in hand.

“Please do not insult my lady,” he said, though his voice quivered with anger. He turned to Loco. “And you sir, that down there was my lady, Blackarachnia, and off-limits to you. State your business. Are you friends or foes? Did Megatron sequester you?”

Loco tilted his head. “Uhhh… what’s tha’ mean, man?”

Alluvia sighed. “Stolen, shanghaied, brainwashed.”

Silverbolt nodded. “She is correct. Have you encountered that wretched tyrant?”

Loco shrugged. “Ah dunno man. You dun’ look very trustworthy to me.”

Alluvia gulped. “H-He has guns, Loco… let’s tell the truth… Y-Yes, sir. We’re in his care.”

Silverbolt snorted contemptuously. “The only care that madman has is for his own wicked shell! What if I told you that you weren’t Predacons, that you were instead truly Maximals, part of a good and noble heritage that has become endangered by the threat of those Predacons who want to destroy the Maximal ancestors?”

Loco rolled his eyes. “I’d say you’re outta your cabesa, man.”

Silverbolt sighed. “Please… we mean no harm.”

Alluvia eyed his weaponry warily. “I can see that…”

“Please… I assumed you would attack our base.” Silverbolt said.

“Yeah! They sure should’ve!” Came a Western drawled voice from behind. Silverbolt spun around to see Quickstrike standing on a boulder. “Howdy tinhorn!”

Quickstrike shot out with his weapon, the green bolt of cyber venom heading directly for Silverbolt’s head.

Time seemed to slow down suddenly… Silverbolt stepped to the side, the bolt striking Loco square in the chest. Alluvia screamed, covering her face and ducking to the ground, squealing; “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

Silverbolt frowned. “That was terribly poor shooting, old friend. I suggest you power down and lay belly-down before I reciprocate your attack with greater accuracy.”

Quickstrike spat on the ground. “What’s all that hooey you’re flappin’ jaws ‘bout?”

Silverbolt gave him a look that could melt titanium. “Shut up and sit down.” He said slowly, speaking each word carefully.

Quickstrike scratched his head. “Dyin’ sure gave ya a chip on yer’ shoulder, wolfie.” He said, raising his snake-head gun again.

Silverbolt shot his carbine, which now revealed itself to have multiple uses. A long cord wound around Quickstrike’s neck and retracted back into the gun, pulling the Maximal turned Predacon up close.

Silverbolt lowered his head close, eyes staining red. “On the contrary, snake, it is the most liberating thing that has ever happened to me.” He said with a predatory smile.

Instantly, Quickstrike became afraid. This wasn’t like Silverbolt at all. Quickstrike had him pegged a big wuss. Now he was more terrifying than that crab-bot.

“N-Now partner, I didn’t mean to do wrong by ya’. I’ll just holster it and walk outta here reeeal peaceful like.” This time, unlike any other time, the scorpion/cobra fuzor meant it.

Silverbolt was not convinced however. “No… I think I’ll take you back. It is high time we Maximals began using dirty tactics you Predacons are so proud of. A taste of your own medicine if you will.”

Quickstrike’s fluid pump began beating faster, his eyes going wide with fear.

“Does he mean slaggin’ me fer’ good? Like boss-bot wanted?” He wondered in terror.

Silverbolt’s eyes went wide briefly. “Primus! I can feel his fear! He is actually afraid of me!”  He mused.

Part of him swelled up in pride. “It is about time too! I’m tired of being regarded as the fool of everyone.” He thought.

Then another part, his older, deeper, core self bumped into his chain of thought. “But is resorting to such things proper and right? Is it good to relish in the fear of others? Silverbolt… you have become no better than that fiend, Rampage. Do as you will, but do not indulge in the fear of others. Such pleasure is reserved for the mad.”

Silverbolt sighed. “Come with me.” He said, holding the weapon to Quickstrike’s neck and looked to the other two. “You are free to go. Not this one. I have… matters of importance to see to, namely his imprisonment. I hope you both are able to see through the madness of that tyrant. If not, Primus help you.” He said numbly, walking Quickstrike towards the doors of the Maximal base.

Alluvia shivered, having been rather petrified for the time. Loco was too busy discerning what Silverbolt was saying, and the whole experience left him confused. “Wait a minute… this guy here, he says Megatron’s a bad dude. But Megatron said he and others are bad dudes. Who’s right here?”

Alluvia sighed, shaking her head. “There are no right sides and wrong sides in war. That’s what’s so wrong about it. But judging from the recent actions, I’d say we know where we stand.” She said firmly.

Loco rubbed his chin. “I dunno senorita… that guy could’ve killed alla’ us. He just took that guy prisoner. Sounds to me like they got some bad blood ‘tween em’, ya?”

Alluvia grunted, getting to her feet. “We must report this to our leader. He must know one of our friends has become imprisoned.” She said.

She transformed into her beast mode and let her rotors extend out. She picked Loco up by the shoulders and took off, her blades thup-thup-thupping as she sped off towards the Predacon base.

Optimus Primal paced back and forth, too furious to think of anything to say. Silverbolt stood before him, all other Maximals gathered around. Finally the titanic Maximal General stopped and looked Silverbolt dead in the eye.

“How could you do this, Silverbolt? How could you? By bringing a Predacon into our base, you’ve endangered us all! Megatron will come for him!”

Silverbolt sighed, not backing down. “He didn’t come for Waspinator.”

The wasp looked down, his feet shuffling closer together.

“Waspinator defected! He wasn’t taken hostage! What can we do? He’ll try to take one of us hostage now to use as a bargaining chip.” Optimus said. “This isn’t the Maximal way.”

Silverbolt’s eyes flashed red as he looked up at his leader. “Have you considered, even after we lost our friend Dinobot, that the ‘Maximal Way’ is no good on this world? You said yourself that we’re in a war for survival. If we do not start capturing them one by one, sooner or later, they will find a breach. Besides, we cannot wait forever for the Autobots and Decepticons to wake up.”

Optimus wanted to say something, but he knew it would end up being nothing but a retort. Silverbolt was right, even if it conflicted with his morals.

“What kind of turmoil must be going on in his heart?” Optimus thought to himself.

“Silverbolt… if you wanted to start capturing Predacons, we should have begun with Megatron himself. Now he can organize a rescue mission for Quickstrike,” Optimus said.

Rattrap piped up. “Ya’ know boss-monkey, I think da’ bird-dog’s right here. We gotta make a stand against Megs.”

Cheetor stepped forward too. “Hey Big-Bot, you know I wouldn’t stomp on your toes or anything, but I think so too. I want this war to end as much as you do.”

Optimus would have felt a lump in his throat, had he one. “But do you all want blood on your hands just to get home?” He asked dryly.

Silverbolt sighed audibly. “No, I do not. That is why I captured Quickstrike. I could have more easily destroyed him than capture him. That is how we end this. We capture them all, Predacon by Predacon.”

Optimus sighed, not wanting to appear weak before the Maximals, but acknowledging that this is the best way.

“Very well…” The gigantic Maximal/Autobot hybrid said. “But we do it peacefully.” He said.

Silverbolt nodded slowly and walked back to his quarters.

Blackarachnia entered, looking around for Silverbolt. “Bowser? You in here?” She asked, entering the dark room.

A soft churr came from the corner where the White Knight sat on a stool, his elbow on his knee, his chin on his fist.

“What’s wrong?” She asked softly.

Silverbolt sighed. “You mean besides losing the trust of my beloved, the faith of my commanding officer and the friendship of my comrades?” He replied, his voice tinged not with brooding, but with a deep loneliness.

Blackarachnia winced. “You didn’t lose my trust, Silverbolt… I was worried and… curious…” She whispered softly.

Silverbolt made no reply, trying to avoid eye-contact.

“As for Optimus, I’m actually proud that you stood up to the big ape. He could use some grounding. Just because he’s leader doesn’t mean he’s right all the time. You, Rhinox and of course myself are the only ones I feel have a leg to stand on when offering alternatives to Optimus.” She said, her tri-fingered hand resting on his shoulder.

“And regarding everyone else, don’t get your feathers in a bind. As far as they’re concerned, you died and came back a different Maximal. I went through the exact same thing, and look at me now.” She said, smiling.

Silverbolt sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You, my lady, are so much stronger than me, however. I have had so many difficulties dealing with this… THIS!” He exclaimed, gesturing to his Class III Transmetal body, riddled with alien power.

Blackarachnia gently draped an arm around his shoulder and leant her head against his. “You’re stronger than you know, Silverbolt. You’ve always been the most courageous. I… read your earlier journals too. Back when I was a Predacon. I read of how you tried to stop Inferno from beating up Quickstrike, even though Quickstrike picked a fight with you earlier. You have a heart of gold, Silverbolt. I see it, Optimus sees it, Waspinator sees it. Even Megatron saw it. That’s why you ultimately joined the Maximals off your own conscience.”

Silverbolt looked at his feet, his wolven ears drooping.

Blackarachnia sighed. “You’re the only one who hasn’t seen it,” she whispered before kissing his muzzle and stepping into the refresher unit.

Silverbolt pondered her words, his fluid pump beginning to pick up its pace.

“She is correct. You have been lacking self-esteem as of late. It is one thing to be humble, but another entirely to think so low of yourself that your lady and your friends worry for you.” He told himself.

By the time Blackarachnia had prepared for the evening, Silverbolt was waiting. He embraced her, his lips meeting hers as fiery passion erupted between their sparks.

“Looks like I’d make a good shrink on Cybertron.” She said after their lips parted.

Silverbolt just smiled, stroking her cheek lovingly, golden eyes gazing into hers of crimson. “I love you, Blackarachnia. You will be exquisite in whatever you do when we return home,” he whispered.

They again embraced, moving to their bed. The dawn came all too soon.

The following morning, Rattrap was looking for a way to keep himself entertained. He’d considered programming a game to play, but he’d felt uninspired. Besides, he felt too lazy to make one. He amused himself by picking through Optimus’s belongings and came upon a book with the Autobot symbol on the cover. He opened it and grinned widely.

“Hey, if it ain’t da’ ol’ Covy of Primus!” He exclaimed. “Weirdest poetry eva’, but if it starts a religion, there’s gotta be some fact in it.” He mumbled, propping his feet on the security console, reading the text that scrolled over the cyber paper.

Optimus was sitting in his quarters, which was really a large section of the cavern that Rhinox and he had hollowed out, remembering that nothing they did in the cavern could possibly affect the future since the volcano was going to explode violently anyway. The Autobots and Decepticons wouldn’t find the equipment and Maximal technology even if they’d be looking for it.

Optimus had, at first, given up privacy due to his new, massive size. However, after some consideration, he decided that rank had its privileges and he deserved some kind of relief.

The mighty mech was contemplating on his ‘thinking chair’. A seat taken from one of the Ark’s many, vast rooms.

Silverbolt was right, as far as Optimus was concerned. He wasn’t troubled by the fact that the Transmetal III Fuzor had a better plan than he did. What bothered him was the fact that he himself had been wrong for so long.

He had entered a tract in his log as captain of the Axalon. To put his mind to different matters, he began entertaining the idea of selling his log as a book back on Cybertron.

“That is, if the Maximal High Elders don’t put the mission and everything that happened here under wraps.” He thought.

He began thinking that he could perhaps change names and release it under a different title, but that train of thought was de-railed as Rattrap and Thundermare raced into the massive chamber, the shorter of the two waving a book around.

“Optimus!” Thundermare cried. “We’ve made a discovery!”

Rattrap nodded voraciously, his jaw slack. “Yeah! I-It’s da’ bird-dog! It’s gotta be!”

Optimus saw the Autobot symbol on the book and felt a flash of anger. “Rattrap! How did you get that?”

Rattrap shrugged. “Ain’t important, beryllium-banana. What is important is this little tid-bit I found in ‘ere! Check it out!” He exclaimed, tossing the big book to Optimus.

He caught it, opened it and looked to the cyber paper where Rattrap had left off.

“Paragraph six.” Thundermare said helpfully.

Optimus read aloud: A mighty warrior came down from the sky, and a rainbow was upon his head, and his feet were pillars of fire. The warrior was not completely welcome, but his actions led to the end of the fear.

Optimus looked to Rattrap. “What are you getting at, you two?”

Rattrap rushed out of the chambers and towards the great entry door. “Follow me, we’ll show ya’!”

They all stepped outside, seeing Silverbolt flying high in the sky, sending energy bolts at targets Blackarachnia was launching at random. He never missed a single one, even when he had to reload his carbine with a new charge, he never let a single flying target touch ground.  His long, silvery hair had a prismatic effect, catching the light and throwing it in all directions… like a rainbow.

Rattrap pointed at Silverbolt’s feet where fiery jets kept him aloft.

“I’m thinkin’, Optimus. I’m thinkin’ that the book is… more than meets the eye.”

Rattrap looked to Thundermare, who looked to Optimus, who looked up at Silverbolt.

“It couldn’t be…” Thundermare murmured.

“I’ve been around long enough to say… heck, this still surprises me!” Rattrap exclaimed.

Optimus shook his head slowly in disbelief. “Does this mean the Beast Wars were pre-ordained? That all of this was?” He said softly.

Rattrap snickered. “Any other time I’d say you were outta your processa, Optimus. But dis’ time, I’m thinkin’ that you just mighta’ pinned the tail on the donkey.”

Meanwhile, light-years away in a distant world, many alien beings communed.

“The timeline is interrupted again. Nexus Earth has come to our attention again!”

“Nexus Earth? The Project was terminated. Our machine was supposed to cleanse the nexus.”

“It apparently did not. This species of living machine has somehow destroyed our machine. Perhaps it would be best to avoid that nexus from now on.”

“No! To ignore it is to invite catastrophe. We must send agents to the planet.”

“But how? We severed our portal with that nexus when we left it behind.”

The microscopic tendrils of the alien the showed the most ingenuity probed the two prisoners who had been taken, and the other two who had accidentally come into their ‘care’.

“We will fashion suitable vessels from these creatures. They need to be enhanced before we travel in them.”

The tendrils began weaving and coursing through the four captive, unconscious Cybertronians. The clawed one and the beaked one were too damaged to be sent back as a whole, so their bodies were fused into one creature. The striped one and the feathered one were in perfect condition and needed no such fusion. Still, both could stand some improvement.

After a compressed century of work, the trio of Vok-enhanced Cybertronians, possessed with the living spirits of three Vok emissaries, left Nexus Zero in a wave of energy, bound for Nexus Earth…