Disclaimer: The Transformers and related suchness do not belong to me

Author's Note: Wee! My first multi-chapter action fic. Thanks go to Pivot for looking over this and pointing out my typos and such, you are my hero.

Rout of Survival

I am a Decepticon warrior of the air. In my domain, I reign supreme.

A flare of laser-fire whizzed by a fingerbreadth from Thrust's wing.

And if I don't watch myself, I'm not going to be in it much longer.

Thrust dove and strafed the Autobot who had been shooting at him. The groundcrawler fell, only to be replaced by two more while a third dragged their injured comrade away.

This was getting to be too much. Thrust pulled up and flew up into the dirty yellow clouds, searching for the rest of his unit. He could pick out two or three of his comrades in purple still down on the ground, but they were scattered all over the battlefield.

This battle was supposed to have been a massacre. Instead, there were twice, no, three times as many of the enemy as they had been led to believe. Everywhere Thrust looked, ground and air, there were Autobots. There should not be this many Autobots; where were they all coming from?

Ahead of him, Thrust saw a fellow Decepticon fall out of the sky, screaming out in terror as he desperately tried to engage thrusters that weren't there anymore. His Autobot attacker, a powerful looking shuttlecraft, now turned his attentions on Thrust.

Enough was enough, he was getting out of here. The battle was as good as lost, and he was no idealist to die for no reason at all.

Thrust swerved to the side, and a bolt of laserfire from the ground hit him on the nosecone. Another shot hit his wing, going right through it. The air was exploding all around him and Thrust didn't know which way to turn.

Then he was hurting, falling, screaming, then nothing.

888

The first thing Thrust noticed was that he hurt. There was a dull pain all over his body, but his wings hurt the most. There was also a wet and sticky feeling on the bottom of his fuselage, and Thrust wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know what it was. He transformed and immediately regretted it, gasping in pain as his wing struck something hard beside him.

He was lying facedown in a pile of mud, the view broken up here and there with plants and small rocks. Outside of that, he had no idea where he was. Judging by the dim light and the height of the sun, several megacycles had passed since he had been shot down.

A cursory scan showed injuries in his left leg and rear thrusters. As well, he had sustained severe damage to his wings, although whether it was from getting shot or the crash afterward, he didn't know.

Grounded. My first off-planet mission and I've been grounded. I am never going to forgive myself.

"What happened?" Thrust groaned, rolling over to rest on his elbows and holding his head. The mech seated on a rock next to him gave him one-quarter of a glance, and then went back to repairing an arm that was barely attached to his body.

"We lost."

Thrust held back a caustic response to this unhelpful information. He was in no condition to be taking on a mechanism twice his size, even if he was in the mood for it.

"I can tell that much," Thrust said as graciously as possible. "What is our status?"

"There are twenty-two of us left. Most are injured."

Twenty-two. There had been over a hundred Deceptions in his unit at the beginning of the battle, which should have been more then enough to handle a small Autobot resistance. Whoever had provided Cloudcrest with his intelligence data needed to spend a few cycles in a torture chamber. Ideally, their commander himself would be in there too, for sending them out into battle so badly informed and unprepared.

Someone was shouting, sending waves of unpleasantness through Thrust's head. Thrust wanted to go over and tell them to stop, but that would require actually getting up, an idea that he was on unpleasant terms with.

"How did…how did I get here?" he went on, trying to ignore the noise.

The other Decepticon grunted in annoyance. "You fell on me while I was in vehicle mode. I didn't feel like transforming to shove your pathetic shell off, so I took you along. We're by Sludge Swamp now."

Sludge, Sludge, where was that? Thrust went over his mental map, but found it hard to think, with all the yelling going on.

There was a clank and a sudden sharp pain in his side. Thrust looked up to see Cloudcrest glaring at him, the intensity of his fiery red optics somewhat dampened by the large dent in his cheek. The commander kicked him again, though not as hard now that he had the other's attention.

"On your feet and get going. We're marching around the swamp to meet Shatterbomb at Cascade Point."

Cloudcrest moved on to do the same to the other Decepticons. Thrust scrambled to get up and trailed after him as he walked away.

"Going around the swamp, that's over ten thousand sions from here. We'll never make it on foot without—"

The protest came at exactly the wrong time for the frazzled Cloudcrest. He'd been dealing with disobedient Decepticons ever since he'd given the order to move on, and Thrust had just gotten on his last nerve. He cut Thrust off with a blow across the face, sending the younger Decepticon sprawling.

"I have had enough of insubordination from my troops! I am your commander, you listen to me!"

Cloudcrest turned back around to argue with the other Decepticons. Despite the blow, Thrust's head was beginning to clear now.

From the ground, he said, "If we go around the swamp in our condition, it will take us at least eight terracycles to reach Shatterbomb's forces, if we even last that long. We're between Autobot lines, and out there in the open we'll be easy targets."

Cloudcrest's wings raised slightly and his arms stiffened as he slowly pivoted to look at Thrust. Barely on this planet ten terracycles and already the rookie wanted to make a bad situation worse. Well, fine then. He would make an example out of Thrust, and maybe that would inspire the rest of the group to obey him.

"I'm sorry, did you have something to contribute, novice?" Cloudcrest punctuated this by jabbing his heel into the exposed circuitry on Thrust's left wing.

Thrust found out abruptly, and quite reflexively, that his weapon systems did still work. Cloudcrest fell back, a large smoking hole through his right shoulder. The other Decepticons watched in sudden interest as Thrust rolled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his leg. Cloudcrest snarled and got up as well, positioning himself in a fighting stance.

Something about this whole scenario struck Thrust as very familiar. He'd seen images during his studies at the Academy of organic predators fighting for domination of their herd or pack. The stronger one would gain leadership, while the other was pushed into submission, exile, or death. From the way things were shaping up, Cloudcrest wanted Thrust to take the second option.

"Stand down, novice, you've got no place talking here," Cloudcrest snarled.

Thrust didn't move. Why hadn't Cloudcrest attacked him yet? The older Decepticon was obviously much stronger and more experienced then him, he should have the advantage.

Because he knows I'll win, Thrust realized. His weapons systems must have been damaged and no one is willing to lend him a gun. But mine are working perfectly and he knows it. I have the advantage here. I play this right…

"If we go through the swamp, we'll be well hidden while we travel," Thrust said as calmly as he could. "Chances are we can slip through the Autobot lines unnoticed, with such a small group."

Cloudcrest made a burst of static, the equivalent of snorting in derision. "You must have taken that fall too hard. We'll be walking right into their arms."

"It's better then marching ourselves to death! Look around; does anyone here look like they're in condition to handle that sort of thing? My way is shorter, and better!"

Thrust risked a moment's look to the side. The other Decepticons were gathering, watching. None were interfering just yet for either party. The pack was waiting to see which predator would come out on top.

The shift of attention cost him. Seeing control slipping away from him, Cloudcrest cut his losses and tackled Thrust, knocking him to the ground. Thrust flailed around, trying to get out from under him as Cloudcrest's fist slammed into his face. Thrust managed to free one arm and blast Cloudcrest in the chest once, then again as his commander reeled and fell to the side. He stood over Cloudcrest as the other tried to push himself up. He allowed Cloudcrest to make it onto his knees before pushing him down again.

Thrust turned to the gathered Decepticons. He disliked having to turn his back on his former commander, but any display of fear or weakness right now would be like sticking a "Shoot Me" sign on himself and warping into the middle of Autobot City.

"You, you and you take first watch," he said with as much authority as he could muster as he indicated several Decepticons with relatively mild damage. "The rest of you repair yourselves as best you can and recharge. We can move out when the sun comes up."

Now was the moment of truth.

The other Decepticons murmured back and forth, pointing and whispering things that Thrust would give his nonfunctioning wings to know right now. He tried to look confident, but internally he was getting the surges. If the crowd scorned his plan, he'd be as good as dead. If, however, they supported him…it would be glorious.

Finally, a titanic battleship whose name Thrust couldn't quite remember—something Wave—made a deep rumbling sound and nodded. Thrust took this as a good sign and stepped toward them, arms wide and welcoming to any new followers.

"Would rather go down fighting then walking," said another, rising to his feet. Others, stimulated by the realization that they would not be acting alone, came forward and voiced their support. Thrust was suddenly seized with a sensation he had never felt before. He was in command. The other Decepticons were looking to him, him, for leadership and guidance.

There was something simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying about this.

Cloudcrest groaned and glared up at him, still on his hands and knees. He looked good in that position, Thrust decided. He kicked Cloudcrest and knocked him over onto his side.

"Same goes for you," he smirked.

"If you think I'm—"

Cloudcrest shut up as Thrust crouched beside him and pressed his gun, still warm from having fired moments before, to his former commander's forehead.

"You will do what I tell you. The Decepticons are under my command now, and you are lucky to still be alive. Now behave like a good little Decepticon and maybe you'll stay that way."

Thrust chuckled softly, then rose and left Cloudcrest sprawled out on the ground. As the last bits of natural light fled, the Decepticons squished about looking for a place to rest.

Thrust walked behind a group of boulders and sat down abruptly. Safely out of sight, he dropped his head back against one of the rocks and deactivated his optics. He hadn't realized just how drained he was until this moment.

Thrust did not go into recharge for a long time after that, hearing every tiny sound as a danger. However, his autonomic functions eventually overrode his paranoia and he too rested.

By sunrise the next day, their numbers had dwindled to twenty. With no one to support or repair him, Cloudcrest had gone offline during the night along with one other. Their bodies were quickly scavenged for spare parts and useable weaponry, then left to rust.

Under Thrust's command, the survivors slowly pulled themselves together and walked off into the swamp.