Disclaimer: I do not own Beast Wars or its characters and stuff. That's Hasbro.
Detailed Summary:
Depth Charge's past experience as Security Chief of Omicron comes back to haunt him when his motley team of allies look to him for leadership on an Ancient Earth devoid of Cybertronian presence besides their own. They are survivors of the Beast Wars, thought dead by Optimus Primal and his aggrieved crew, and they are left picking up the pieces the Maximals unwittingly left behind.
Taxed with managing a bunch comprised mostly of highly dangerous Predacons, including his nemesis Protoform X, Depth Charge aims ultimately for one goal - to escape the planet by revitalizing what's left of the Axalon. It's an ambitious undertaking, and with the Vok becoming ever more involved with their mysterious experiment and taking on powerful frames of their own, both Maximal and Predacon lives are at stake. Luckily, when backed into a corner even Predacons make good teammates, and, with help from unexpected sources, they just might make it off this dustball alive.
~~A story focused on developing further some of our favorite Characters, comparing Predacon and Maximal cultures and behavior, and tackling the tricky subject of Redemption.~~
December 2012, Update:
This is a rewrite of a fic I stalled on well over a couple years ago. Unfortunately as much as I love to come up with story ideas, I suck at writing them down. I have imagined this fic to death, especially what I want to happen in its planned sequel, but haven't written a word. But I do want to see this thing written, I really do, and seeing as the Beast Wars fandom is slowly petering out, I absolutely do not want my story to end now.
The following is a rewrite of the original Beast Wars: Deep Impact. I have renamed that one to Deep Impact: The Archives. And following the long hiatus since I last updated this version, I have decided to reboot it once again. I haven't changed much, but I am rewriting a couple scenes, rewording things, and doing grammar checks. This time around, I plan to only update if I have the next chapter already written, although I do not have a schedule for when new chapters are uploaded. I will also be uploading to Archive of Our Own, and updating the fic posted on FFN. I am Deepclaw on both sites.
Finally, for this Prologue, I begin my tale in the thick of Beast Machines, where I tie my first thread of webbing before diving into the weaving of the tapestry that will become Deep Impact. Regardless of your feelings towards Beast Machines, a terrible sequel but a good story in its own right, the following helps ground my story into canon and I hope to eventually come full circle.
The prologue occurs some time in the middle of the second season; after Botanica's arrival but before the Maximals are able to progress in their fight against Megatron's totalitarian grip of their home planet. We start with a quiet atmosphere and a meditating gorilla…
Beast Wars: Deep Impact
~Prologue~
"The seeds of the future…lie buried in the past…"
Optimus Primal stared blankly into the void before him, almost expecting the Oracle to appear again. Maybe its wisdom would be a little bit more comprehensive than before.
He waited in vain...
It seemed like eons ago that he and his crew had landed on a desolate Cybertron with no idea what had happened to them or how they'd ended up as wanted refugees in their own home city. But even now, after fighting endless battles, securing heaps of scraps of data from an insane Megatron's archives, and delving into the deepest parts of the planet chasing myths for a chance at freedom, he and his Maximals were reaching a stage in their guerilla war that didn't seem to advance.
Like Rattrap had once said, referring to his old video games, "Look, Boss Monkey. We're on the hardest level yet and we ain't even found the dungeon key."
Nightscream had heartily agreed.
The somber gorilla lifted a hand, his beast mode a small dark blot on the wide abandoned road that functioned as the catwalk over their current secret base. He hadn't moved for megacycles, the small technorganic seed he'd collected for consideration looking a little bit more lifeless than when he'd first plucked it from their wilting crop. He shook his head, his eyes closing as a small inner voice reminded him that the only reason these plants were still alive was Botanica's expertise. And despite even that, the seed was losing its vitality the longer he kept it away from the fertile soil down below.
That was the thought that pushed him to his feet and he walked to the lift that would take him to the crops.
"If we just had a larger sample of the organic core and more reliable circuitry - "
"But we don't! Everything we have is salvaged from the best we can find and that's either ancient technology from all the way down here, or the good stuff from the surface. And the only good stuff up there is, ironically enough, Megatron's product. Foraging for his scraps isn't only demeaning, it's dangerous. And it's only getting more so all the time."
Cheetor's mature voice rang from behind a boulder, the Earth-like rock looking out of place in the hallowed halls of ancient Cybertronian construction. How long had the planet's inhabitants claimed the entire planet was metallic only for his small band of Maximals to discover the blip of natural material at its core. It made one wonder who built these ruins, and why they'd been forgotten. Optimus considered himself a lifelong history student, and he'd never heard anything about the type of architecture he and his group encountered on a daily basis while exploring this far from Megatron's territory. The ape continued forward, his ears and mind now tuning in to his comrades' concerns.
Botanica was quick to reply, not giving up on her campaign to make more frequent forays into the drone infested regions of the planet. "Then we can start with finding more goo. We know from controlled experiments that it surfaces more easily with the right electrical pulse to its matter. While we have plenty enough of a reserve here, it is not enough to expand the crops into new locations."
As Optimus reached the quarreling group, he found Cheetor shaking his head.
"I still don't think we should expand, at least no further from this tunnel. If we do, we'll be too spread out. We could be detected easier, or the plants made more vulnerable without the right supplies to support them. There'd be too much to do down here and we'd spread ourselves thin trying to fight Megatron at the same time. Besides, Megatron's security is getting better and his grip on the planet is getting stronger. What we have is enough for research purposes, but we need to advance militarily."
"I gotta agree with Cheetor, here, Sprouts," Rattrap interjected, nodding his pointed snout. "We can't get the circuitry we need for the crops or our other projects so easy anymore. Megatron's livin' it up in his Penthouse o' Evil and we're sittin' down here cultivatin' a farm! If we just head up there to collect drones and slag for parts, we're askin' for trouble. We should focus on weakening his defense and takin' out his best Generals."
"But the crops are dying," Botanica protested with a note of desperation, gesturing to the steel plated pool of green they had stored for the plants. The liquid was duller, the shine less noticeable, and the plants around it were healthy, but less lively. Their imminent demise wasn't noticeable to anyone but the plantbot, but the Maximals had long since learned to trust her when it came to flora. "We can make no progress at all if we don't at least have them. We need to make them flourish, and we need to give them more space. Besides, our other projects will need new hardware as well."
"I think we can settle for a bit of a compromise…Sort of," Blackarachnia stated, hanging lightly from a pipe. Nightscream was nearby, listening, and the other Maximals turned towards her. "We know Megatron's tightening the noose on this sector. That means that nothing we do down here is safe. They're drilling their way down, click by click, and eventually they'll find us. The bigger our footprint on this soil, the easier it will be track us down. And yet," she raised a leg like she would a finger. "Our research on the technorganic plants is just as important as surviving this apocalyptic mess, and defeating Megatron. You won't want to hear this, but I think we need to move base to a better location so we can all complete the tasks we've got on our plate with less interference from upstairs."
Both Cheetor and Botanica looked ready to protest, but they were also considering the she-spider's suggestion with morose acceptance. Optimus Primal got the impression that all of his Maximals had been leaning towards the same conclusion regarding their situation and only now that it was voiced were they regarding its potential reality. As the drone armies expanded, and Megatron grew wiser to Maximal tricks, their operations down here were in jeopardy. And it certainly didn't help that while Megatron's choice to thoroughly investigate various sectors of Cybertron's inner structure at random, the search was hitting dangerously close to home.
He stepped forward, his face sad. His presence drew his friends' attention and they quieted to hear his words.
"I don't think any of us want to admit it," he said, once again glancing at the technorganic seed in his hand. "But Blackarachnia may be right. We can't hope to beat Megatron and his armies before they find us. We can't afford such a risky race. Our only option is to move out now before it's too late."
"Ugh. Isn't there another way?" Nightscream asked, perturbed. "After Thrust found our last base, we had to move and start over. We only just got here and it took forever to set it up! And now we have to go and start over again?"
"Unfortunately, our only other option is to stay and risk another confrontation with the Generals or Megatron himself. I don't think he knows where we are, but I do have a feeling he has a hunch, and he will pursue us with everything he's got," Optimus explained, his voice taking on a slight edge. "If we weren't in one of the sectors he's searching, we'd be able to continue our operations with less desperation. In fact, I think we would have made progress. Here, he'll crack down on us soon enough."
As the faces around him turned thoughtful, Optimus heard the tell tale chortling of a condor and his eyes met the form of Silverbolt as he alighted on the boulder with predatory grace, fresh from patrol. The solemn bird of prey looked as ornery as ever, but now there was a hint of worry.
"Optimus. We have Vehicon activity approximately six clicks north." The condor shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his blue feathers slightly ruffled. "They just breached the door to the subway system, near the ruins of the Autobot dojo. They look unhurried, but they've never come down this far before."
The once heroic mech's dark voice made the news even more haunting, and Primal's spark sank in response. Everyone exchanged serious glances, a list of things to do before they could make a break for another sector already lengthening in their minds. Now the question of moving was solved. Six clicks would become five, and then four, and so on until they were discovered. They had to get moving, and fast.
Optimus approached the small vat of the organic liquid they'd managed to tease from the core of the planet and lifted his hand to reveal the seed once more. As he looked at it, the proximity to the goop made the seed shiver and split, a small metallic leaf appearing from within.
"The seeds of the future lie buried in the past…" he said thoughtfully for what seemed like the millionth time since the Oracle first whispered the words into his processor.
"Ai. That fraggin' phrase!" Rattrap exclaimed with annoyance, rearing on his hind legs and crossing his arms.
The rat wasn't the only one who'd gotten sick of the statement. They all knew its importance, and they knew Optimus's faith in the Oracle was strong. They also knew that it gave them direction, and drive to succeed. But the exact meaning behind it continued to elude them all, and it occasionally drove them all crazy; even Primal himself. Pursuing the truth behind the Oracle's repeated phrase had led them a long way in their war against the dragon tyrant, but sometimes it led them into trouble. And it was enough to cause doubt among in the group.
"I understand your frustrations, friends," Optimus replied, watching as the leaf continued to bloom into a new plant. "But it's the only clue we have in our search to discover what the Oracle, and by extension the Matrix, has in store for Cybertron."
Nightscream was silent, but then he dropped from the overhead pipe and landed upright next to the Maximal leader. He sounded somewhat hesitant to voice his opinion, but barreled on anyway. "Hey, I was thinking… maybe we're interpreting it wrong. I don't doubt what you believe, but what if there's more?"
"What do you mean, kid?" Blackarachnia asked, her spindly form suddenly standing near Silverbolt.
"Well, you said you guys went back in time, right? And you fought on Ancient Earth, and after you guys needed to leave you gathered up whatever materials you could and high tailed it back here. But what if you left something behind? What if these seeds to the future are still there? Literally buried in the past?"
"So we mighta left half a ship and a bunch of scraps behind," Rattrap shrugged. "What are we gonna do? Get a new ship and go back to Earth to search for nuts and bolts? If the Oracle's expectin' that, it's got another thing comin'. We're in no position to build or repair a slaggin' ship." Cheetor nodded in agreement. "And really. Are the scrap parts of our tech gonna change the course of history so much that we can't win our war against Megatron here?"
"Okay, then what if these seeds of the future are people? Is it possible you left someone behind? Maybe they're trapped in the past, and them being there is screwing up our future." The bat thought he had a point, but the Maximals shook their heads.
"We scanned for life signs - Rhinox scanned for life signs - before we left. We found nothing," Cheetor supplied.
They'd been there, the Maximals standing beside Rhinox and helping him with the scans, hoping to uncover a lost comrade from a hidden stasis pod, or detect the return of a friend thought dead. The rhinoceros had complained and grumbled continuously about the difficulty of getting Maximal and ancient Autobot technology to cooperate with each other, but the scanners seemed to be accurate and they came back to Cybertron disappointed and grieving. Then again, it was possible the controls were faulty, despite Rhinox's expertise. It was possible, but the cat and everyone else present still disagreed with the theory. Rhinox would have predicted and compensated for margin of error and any possible anomaly they detected had been investigated before they left.
"Besides, kid," Rattrap spoke, his voice subdued. "We saw people die in that war. If there was any chance of them comin' back, we woulda known about it." No, they couldn't grab all their old materials and supplies, and they couldn't recover the bodies of some of their comrades, but they were sure they were gone, forever. Dead.
Nightscream, faced with the negativity of his audience, sighed and shrugged the theory off. He still thought it was possible, and he was seeing it from the eyes of a bot who wasn't scarred by the emotional trauma of the Beast Wars. It was strange thinking that after all this time chasing the vague concept of technorganic revolution that the phrase's meaning might be something as simple and logical as the undeath of old war buddies. He supposed whether his little hypothesis held any truth didn't matter so much with the encroaching Vehicons just shy of stumbling upon their front door. To him, the present matters were far more important than the possible fate of bots who might be stuck far in the past and he was ready to help pack up and hit the road.
Optimus Primal, however, was feeling differently. As he stared into the petals of the small flower he held in his hand, he felt the stirrings of an idea, of a revelation, of a vision.
Slowly, the world around him seemed to black out into a perfect spiritual replica of deep space, a white film-like energy encircling him as he began to move like a feather on the wings of a mighty breeze. Far away, and growing more distant, were the voices of his comrades, now concerned at their leader's silence. The flower petals grew bigger surrounding him and engulfing him in their colors, each hue taking on the familiar appearance of planets, stars, and moons that rocketed past him at light speed. And then suddenly there was Earth, its blue-green shape against the back drop of the bright Sun a welcome and mystifying sight. In his spark, Primal felt a familiar presence, and then another and another and another. He could not identify them, though he tried, one at a time, to ask for their names, but they moved behind an alien veil he couldn't quite see through. They were mere shadows just beyond his reach.
Except one.
Through the expanse of time and space, Optimus felt the unmistakable sensation of ocean waves on his body. The cool embrace of the sea was as unfamiliar to him as it was normal to the spark he could feel beating just across from him, just behind that strange veil.
He knew this bot. The mech's spark was hard, angry, and sorrowful. It was as guilt-ridden and restless as the mind it was connected to, as the body that bore it. Something was different about it, like it had been ripped apart and put back together again with the wrong parts, but it was him, nonetheless.
"Depth Charge!" Optimus exclaimed in surprise.
As if hearing him, the spark jolted into a maelstrom of activity. It was online.
"He's alive!" Optimus whispered in shock, realizing that the other presences he'd felt must have been other survivors.
Then the vision faded, the gorilla's consciousness zooming backwards into itself, images of flowers, stars, and Cybertron's fate flashing before his eyes.
"Optimus Primal…" the multilayered voice of the Oracle suddenly echoed around him. "The seeds of the future…lie buried in the past."
Somewhere off the coast of a battle scorched Earthen beach, deep under the rolling waves of the Pacific, two ruby optics flashed back to life.