Disclaimer: I do not own Beast Wars or anything Transformers except the DVDs.

December 2012 Update: I have updated the following chapter. I don't think anything's noticeably different but I double checked it to make sure it's how I wanted it! I rechecked grammar, diction, and altered some of it to adjust for the beginning of Part 2. As a general rule, I am writing this fic in Episodes. Each episode has a name, and has 3 Parts, or 'chapters.' I am attempting to add depth to the world of Beast Wars and its characters while simultaneously keeping to the show's episodic, and scene based, format, so you can think of the end of a chapter as a commercial break, if you like. I think that's it for notes, so enjoy!

Beast Wars: Deep Impact

~Episode 1~

A New Agenda: Part 1

They were dying.

Two sparks, bodiless, holding on to life by mere threads as the harsh physical environment around them threatened to wear them away into nothing. They weaved and ducked between and around the trunks and branches of the arboreal sea-side landscape, their path indistinct but hurried. Once…Twice, they melded together, creating light like a silver lamp before falling apart again. Like injured comrades supporting each other with a shoulder and a strong arm, this was the only way to maintain their energized state and continue forward.

Together, Tigatron and Airazor had been kidnapped, their sparks depolarized and removed from their bodies by mysterious alien beings and their frames molded together to form Tigerhawk, emissary of the Vok. There, in the Vok's strange plane of existence, they were held prisoner, unable to leave and unable to regain control of their bodies. They'd gotten their chance to escape when the Vok unleashed Tigerhawk upon the Earth – the pair followed, slipping from the Nexus and into the physical realm of existence once more.

Depolarized sparks could live for a time without a spark chamber to sustain them, and could even possess others or sparkless frames – they were something like ghosts, but with the obvious presence of their shining orb-like constitution. Soon, however, their sparks would be torn by the wild atomic environment into tiny pieces, like water eroding rock to sand, until they would finally extinguish and join the Well of All Sparks in their death.

In this form, the depolarized spark was a sensitive thing, and this sensitivity could be used by the formless Airazor and Tigatron to seek out help. They could not see without optics, or hear without audio receptors, or speak without vocalizers, but they could still seek, listen, and communicate.

Together they sensed someone close by. Two someones.

One possessed such a dark and malicious tint to its intelligence that the pair would do better to stay away. But the other…

It was not a Friend, but it was not an Enemy either. It was damaged and so full rage it glowed like a beacon, and yet it was strong and righteous. This someone could help.

Nearing the end of the forest, the two sparks' sightless vision found the sparkling crystal waters of the open sea. The Sun's rays glistened at the peak of midmorning, no clouds to impede them, their light causing the pale sand beaches to burn white. Massive sloping rock framed the scene with dirt brown and terracotta red, the natural formation of cliffs creating pathways down to the water that anybot would find useful.

Tigatron and Airazor of course had no interest in these paths. With the silence of phantoms, they wobbled their way weightlessly over a ledge and down to the water's foamy edge. They merged again, their light wan in the harsh Sun, and waited.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A rush of déjà vu woke Depth Charge with a start, his optics' light startlingly like fresh blood in the azure deep.

Shining down from the surface were the rays of the high Sun. Their source was broken by the ocean waves, a white circle overhead chopped into uneven slices that glowed like hot coals. It was blinding, and the Cybertronian's systems had to adjust to filter the brightness down to a tolerable level. His optics dimmed.

For a moment, maybe longer, he felt detached from the swaying universe around him. He felt like a shadow, like the slight graying of color under a herring's tiny fin. Insignificant, unmotivated, and, for a flash, almost… normal. Then the touch of a swimming stingray brushed lightly against his own fin and he snapped into a slightly foggy focus.

The sand under him was kicked up in a swirl as he moved, the nearby wildlife darting into shallows and coral caves that they instinctually thought ought to stop him from finding them. He stood slowly, dizzy as his systems compensated, feeling sluggish. He considered setting himself back down, taking a break to regain some strength, but he mentally waved that off with conviction - he couldn't afford that.

X was still out there.

A blinding flash and the crystal in his hands grew hot. The energon deposits around him began to sing and arcs of electricity danced over his frame. X was still slagging laughing, the sound both amused and painful. Then the noise of metal being ripped as his body was torn apart cut the laugh short - and he was hit with a wave of intense agony, so thorough in its ravaging of his mind that he went numb. And then nothing.

He didn't know how he knew he failed and it troubled him, causing his optics to narrow into slits. Casting a garnet glare over the soft sands around him, he found no sign of the crab in his immediate area. His scanners detected nothing either. There should be evidence of the devastation of the explosion, but however long it was that he'd been knocked out, it had been enough time for the ocean's waves to cover the place in a new blanket of sand. He checked his chronometer – two weeks. He'd been out for two whole weeks.

It was possible that Protoform X's shell was buried here, somewhere, and yet Depth Charge knew better.

He shook his head. He couldn't dwell on this now. Even he knew when he needed to recuperate, so whether the crustacean was in the grave or not, Depth Charge's next step was to head back to the Maximal base for repairs.

Lifting a hand for inspection, the ray was momentarily surprised to find no damage (he was fairly certain he shouldn't even have hands) but he was sure he was experiencing lag in his system's self diagnostic. He definitely felt the heavy lethargy that accompanied extremely low energy reserves, so he'd have to refuel as well. Once his onboard computer was repaired and reset, he could conduct a run down on the undoubtedly extensive list of damage he wasn't currently feeling. Hopefully, he'd make it into the CR chamber before his pain receptors came back online. For now, he felt perfectly fine. Thank the Matrix for that.

He moved slowly, every step a fight against the ocean currents that kept pulling at his fins. The uneven sand was an annoying hindrance to his progress as well. He briefly pondered entering beast mode and cruising through this mess with more ease, but the shore wasn't as far away as he'd thought.

It took a good quarter of a megacycle to push himself through the waves and pull himself onto the beach. It took him another fifteen cycles to adjust to the change in gravity, which usually only took him moments. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so critically low on energon, and it only occurred to him now that he could have transformed and eaten something in the water. The thought was quickly dismissed, though – consuming organic material for energy produced very little to go on in comparison to actual fuel. He'd had to have eaten a lot and plankton, while plentiful, would have taken time for him to process. Maximal base had enough stored that he wasn't in that much danger, assuming he didn't run into Megatron's cronies on the way back. So, he'd continue as planned. He'd determined by now that he barely had enough to fly back which meant he'd be walking. In case he did run into trouble, that energy would be better used in a fight.

Ready to begin his journey back, he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of the coast as he strategized his route. His gaze wandered, his form pushing off the ground and settling into its usual tense posture. Then his optics suddenly caught a glare from the Sun and his filters scrambled to adjust again.

When he saw spots anyway, he completely rebooted his optics.

They were still there.

"What the frag?" he croaked in surprise.

There were two sparks, not sun spots. They looked faint, like the sparks of the sick and weak, but they moved frantically about in the air. They seemed to reach out for aid, frightened, desperate, and determined to keep living; understandable considering their position.

The manta ray took a moment to wonder at his sudden emotional insight, but he moved swiftly onwards.

Depth Charge didn't know much about medical stuff besides basic field repairs, but he did know that these two had very little time. One might think he should be shocked, and he could think of a few medics he'd known in his past who would have fritzed and gone into emergency paramedic mode at the sight, but he wasn't them. Like many times before, he found himself faced with highly unusual circumstances and he immediately molded to accommodate. He had to get these two help. His only problem was that he had no tech to do so, and no way to transport the sparks without taking them into his own body; and that was just unacceptable.

As if sensing his resolve and perhaps his confusion, the sparks began to snake their way up the beach towards the cliffs in a way that suggested they were aware of the ex-Marshall's presence, and Depth Charge hesitated a mere second before stepping after them.

He couldn't help but think, who had done this to them? How long had these two been like this? And who were they? With dread he considered the possibilities and a pang of guilt travelled through his core. He couldn't help but feel that maybe the pair wouldn't have found themselves in this state if he'd done what Optimus had asked him to instead of going after X.

But with a forceful shudder, he willed the guilt away. He'd seen an opportunity and he took it to rid the world of that murderous menace. There were plenty of Maximals ganged up on Megatron, so they could handle him. X was his to fight and, whether he'd eliminated him or not, he was sure Rampage was out of the conflict for the duration.

The ray had no idea what the current situation was in the Beast Wars, but he knew he needed Maximal help now. He'd have to deal with the inevitable lecture Optimus would lash him with, but this predicament he found himself with was worth it. Although these sparks seemed to have a better idea of their situation than he did, it was still risky just following after them. They could die any moment, and the only person Depth Charge knew could help them was a certain rhinoceros Primal had tethered inside a cave somewhere northeast of here.

He lifted his arm, speaking clearly over the gentle crashing of waves on the sand behind him, "Depth Charge to Primal."

Static answered him.

He tried again, "Depth Charge to Maximal base."

Nothing.

This did not bode well. Either the Maximals were staying silent on the airwaves for some reason, or something very bad went down while he was out. He'd have to handle this on his own. Assuming he could lend any useful kind of aid, he'd check up on Primal's bozos later. He had no choice at the moment but allow the pair up front to lead him to where they seemed to think they should go.

He sighed and checked his energon reserves again, just to double check. It wasn't the small Preds he was worried about, but the big ones, with the brains, well…

Marching his way into the forest at the top of the cliffs, he kept a wary optic on his scanners.

-00-00-00-00-00-00-

"Run that by me again?"

"Diagnostic Scan Complete: Zero Damage. Complete functionality restored."

"How is that possible?"

The manta's low voice was the only sound in the forest that didn't come from wildlife. He squeezed himself between the narrow trees, the glowing orbs he tailed just ahead of him and slowing down.

It had taken him two megacycles to realize that his self repair systems were unglitched, and that his diagnostics had nothing to report because there was no damage. He was completely, one hundred percent, whole, as if he'd just emerged from a CR chamber undisturbed. This bothered him immensely, seeing as there was no logical explanation for it. The only thing he could come up with was that the energon blast was smaller than he'd thought, his body was tougher than he'd thought, and he'd been unconscious for longer than he'd thought, his self repair doing a fantastic job of healing even if he did lose a ton of mech fluid and energon in the process. His chronometer was his only clue but even with two weeks down time at the bottom of the sea, he shouldn't be walking upright, if at all.

As far as he could tell, the world wasn't exactly imploding on itself, so Megatron must not have succeeded. Why, then, were the Maximals silent?

By the time the Sun had just reached past its peak, Depth Charge could no longer see the ocean as the broadleaf forest around him turned into pines and oaks. He entered a clearing, the grass grown high enough to reach his knee plating and wildflowers in bloom, all swaying in the light salt-less breeze. The sparks picked up in speed and began to circle a pile of dirt near the other side of the meadow.

"I have to dig?" he asked, more thoughtful than contemptuous. The pile was preceded by a long streak of debris that cut through the plantlife and – he looked up and saw it – an unnatural cut in the treeline above, as if something crashed through them on the way down. The implications were obvious – he'd been led to a stasis pod. He didn't know how the sparks had found it, but he couldn't exactly ask them and expect an answer, so he hurried forward and got to work.

He stuck his hands in and pulled away the dirt in clumps. It was slightly wet, as if a light rain had passed through some megacycles ago. He worked for a while before glancing up again.

Not two yards away, the sparks dipped dangerously before merging into a shining orb. They did that every once in a while and Depth Charge had assumed it was something to look away from, until it occurred to him that they might be doing it because it was keeping them alive. He didn't know much about the nature of sparks or anything. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd let anyone anywhere near his own. But now it seemed to him that this was the manifestation of the only way they knew how to stick around. They must have been very close before…

With a minute pause - he couldn't afford to stop – he wondered again if he knew these two.

"I guess I'll find out soon enough," he grunted out loud, lifting a stasis pod from the hole and setting it gently on the damp pillow of soft dirt next to him.

The sparks seemed to revitalize as Depth Charge looked over the pod.

It was beaten and part of the control panel was seared away. The crevices were caked with dirt and the outside was covered in a thin film of clay. Placing his hand on it he discovered that no pulse of a spark was inside. Somehow he had known it was a blank before he even touched it, but he paid no mind to that thought. More important matters were at hand.

Like trying to get two bodies out of the thing.

He sighed, and mentally batted his frustration away. He knew only one spark could go in there. Trying to find a way to split the blank into two was a feat best reserved to the science types, if it was even possible. So, only half of his present company was coming back.

He turned to tell them that, hoping they'd understand, but found no need.

He had no idea sparks without shells could argue but that's what it looked like. The one was rather animatedly shaking and moving in circles, angry and incredulous, and the other was moving frantically towards and the pod and back, trying to herd the other in, entrusting its life in the other's hands. Doubt nibbled at his circuits again and his newfound tendency to project emotions on naked spherical souls, but he shook his head in dismissal. He was just being logical. He knew an argument when he saw one.

The raybot looked away from the sight and moved to open the stasis pod to let the winner, or loser, in. Failing to detect energon in the area, he figured it was safe to open.

After the dirt was scraped away the pod's lid lifted with a hiss, revealing a liquid protoform. It was likely still liquid-like because the pod was functioning perfectly, even though the Maximal had no spark. That couldn't be helped now, however, and despite how wrong it felt to be relieved that the Maximal inside was dead, the manta ray couldn't help it. He wasn't sure what he'd done if it was alive and he still had two sparks to rush through the forest to base along with a new bot to look after. The thought also occurred to him then, as he watched the protoform slosh around on itself, that with all the unknowns in his situation, he shouldn't try his radio again unless it became absolutely necessary. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention in such a delicate instance. Not having reached the point of emergency yet, and with a potential ally about to come online again, he decided to wait until he was much closer to base before calling for back up. For now, he had this under control. One spark would come online, the other spark could be stabilized using the pod's life support functions.

Finally, it was decided and one of his mute companions glided over unsteadily. The Other wasn't looking much better, settling resignedly near a purple bloom as if slumping. The 'chosen' one settled inside and the pod reacted immediately. With a snap the lid shut, the pod shook, and the scanner popped out, fritzing on its little golden port. It broke off, useless, and Depth Charge stepped away as the glade was filled with white light.

The pod then abruptly settled and went quiet. A cycle passed, then another, before a light knocking came from inside.

The ray didn't move, astonished at so normal – domestic? sentient? communicative? – a sound coming from a thing that was, just a moment ago, such an importantly lifeless heap of metal.

The knocking got louder and a muffled feminine voice called out from inside, sounding a little more desperate. Depth Charge blinked and walked forward to peer inside.

A pair of teal optics looked back at him, framed by a red crest that glinted a distinct Transmetal shine. She looked functional and alert, if a bit sheepish at her predicament.

With a swipe of his sharp edged tail, Depth Charge popped the seal along the lip of the stasis pod lid. Soon, a stately bot climbed out, her severely shaped blue wings swept to either side as she stretched and took in the sight of the sky above. Hovering towards her, the defenseless spark nearby was welcomed with open gold plated arms which curled protectively around the orb. Then her ruby helm tilted, and she looked the large sea-going Maximal over, taking in his haggard appearance. He was in pristine condition, but his shoulders and large fins dipped in a way that suggested his exhaustion. She graced him with a relieved smile and a playful smirk.

"You look like scrap."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Soft earth shivered and quaked, the sand falling aside as languidly as fluid as the massive crab that was Rampage sifted himself to the surface. The blue light of the sea deepened the red curves of his form and eerily highlighted the acidic green of his optics.

No, Protoform X wasn't dead. It was quite a disappointment to find himself still among the living. He'd figured himself free from his torment the moment his old friend pushed that shard straight through his spark. Alas, that wasn't the case. He'd thought, at first, upon waking, that it was Depth Charge who had gone offline for good. He was, after all, mortal, but the crab quickly found this to be false and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Instead, he'd found the manta ray sprawled on the coral-littered floor of the ocean unharmed. Unusual.

That had been less than a day ago.

It wasn't until Depth Charge stirred that the beginnings of a revelation came to him. Weakened, Rampage had tunneled, as many crabs do, to escape detection. He shimmied into the sand deep enough that he knew his old playmate's scanners wouldn't find him and waited.

The ray stood, confused but determined as always, and ultimately, to X's surprise, left.

And with the ex-Marshall online and aware again, Rampage felt a twinge in the region of his chest. He then emerged from the sand to sense the Maximal growing distant, and he reflected on this revelation. It pulled at the fringes of his mind like mice nibbled at the edges of a block of cheese. The conclusion eluded him but the facts and evidence revealed themselves to him slowly. A thought crossed his mind and it amused him, but as quickly as it came it went – he was left with the impression of irony that he couldn't understand. The answer was just out of reach. What was this that was so strange? What was different about the manta ray? About himself?

"What is this I feel in my spark?" he mumbled to the quiet current. A claw arced slowly, coming to rest under his mandibles. "Is it you, old friend?"

Suddenly, the distinct feeling of recognition zipped across his frame and electrocuted his spark. He froze as his focus turned inward and prodded at his spark, this thing he had wanted to be whole again for so long now. It was certainly whole now, and such a wonderful feeling that was! But the void was not filled with his own essence. The void screamed another life-force; it vibrated with the energy and vitality of the one he'd long hunted. It was Depth Charge.

Rampage transformed in his surprise and maroon hands clutched at his chest. He glared at the plates that hid his spark chamber with horror and rising fury.

Fighting his anger off, he steeled himself and thought. He hadn't known this kind of thing could happen. Did Megatron know? What plans had the tyrant had in store for him if he did? He supposed it didn't matter now, because the Rex's hateful and insane spark wasn't on the planet anymore and the other half of his spark was no longer with the twitchy Transmetal raptor. So, Rampage then had to wonder if Omicron's guardian knew. It had to have been an accident; he doubted the ray would pull such a move on him. The manta's goal was to execute him, not attain the precious 'gift' Cybertron's favorite research facility had bestowed him. Could his healing abilities be passed to another through his spark like this? He was sure it could – it healed Dinobot, why not another?

What did this mean? Rampage could not answer himself this. This was new knowledge to him. Depth Charge's life force beat with his own, not next to it but as a part of it, as if they'd been mixed together. The thought made him queasy and although his systems craved for energon, he couldn't stand the thought of consuming anything at the moment. His rage reared its ugly head again and it felt strange to him, because it wasn't only his rage, but the rage he'd felt in the raybot's spark time and time again. They were angry together, no longer two separate lives, but a single entity in two bodies. They were new; reborn. And it was disturbing.

Rampage stumbled towards the beach, finding his bearings as he went. His – their? – anger swirled inside him and he found himself foolishly denying this was happening. However, he wasn't stupid enough to let this natural psychological response interfere, and he forced himself to face this. He had to know if Depth Charge knew. He had to know if it was possible to get his spark back, even – especially – if he had to wring it from the Maximal himself.

He continued to fume until he found the Guardian's footprints in the sand of the brightly lit shore. Ever plotting and planning as he was, the change of scenery inspired a new perspective, and he reevaluated his situation.

The crabbot's brilliant mind pushed past his chagrin and whirred with keen interest before he gazed down at his hands with a new outlook, trying to understand these unfamiliar twists in his game – was there a game anymore? A treacherous thought supplied. He ignored it.

Where was the other half of his spark? He could feel it as it continued to moved away from him with two others, but at the same time he couldn't. That was what was so different about Depth Charge when he'd awoken. He felt different, and now Rampage knew why. It was kind of like feedback. And, furthermore, there was something else… a connection. A very…strong connection, he thought, to his dear friend. The thought almost sent him reeling again with what did this mean?

Again, he steeled himself and with only the vaguest bits of a plan in mind, he set out up the beach, away from Omicron's Guardian and his weakening companions, to find some…leverage.

This was a… disconcerting …frightening….aggravating…and very…

very…

interesting development.