Beast Wars: REBIRTH Volume Two Chapter 4: Things Fall Apart, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Beast Wars REBIRTH

VOULUME 2

Chapter 19: Things Fall Apart

A small blip appeared briefly on the scanners on Earth before it disappeared under a cloak. A glint appeared in Megatron's eyes as he gazed upon the detestable blue and green marble that he had grown to know and resent.

"We'll be landing shortly," Flux announced, pressing a few buttons on his console.

"Excellent. Now, let us get down to business…" Megatron began with a wry smile.

But he was interrupted when, very suddenly, several loud bangs emitted from above their heads. Every unit on board stared up at the ceiling with a confused look on their face. The bangs seemed to travel from one end of the command centre to the other, occasionally pausing, and possibly wandering in a different direction.

After several minutes of banging and clanging, a shot was fired through the ceiling. Everyone covered their heads to prevent any debris to cause any damage. When they looked up, a tall, lean figure landed on the floor through the hole he had blown apart.

"Well, not much of a ship, but it's my ship now. I'm commandeering you, savvy?"

The bot stood tall and confidently, squinting through his red optics at every bot on board with a slightly crazed expression. His alt mode was not Cybertronian. In fact, he appeared to have a bird-like beast mode.

"Who are you?!" bellowed Megatron, standing his ground to confront this stranger.

"Ah, the question is mate, who am I to you. But who would you be to me, a stranger on your ship asking such a question as who am I, but what you really want to know is not the who is it of me but who are you, in terms of me, savvy?"

The bot received a full house of blank stares. He raised his hands.

"Alright, I understand this may be new to you, big strong Predacons, never seen a hijacking before. But I have a gun, and if any man has an objection to my taking over as captain, commander, whatever please you…do remember that I am in fact holding a gun."

As he spoke with barely a pause, he withdrew a pathetic looking single-fire photon pistol that ran on rechargeable energon capsules. At the conclusion of his sentence, he was smarmily waving his weapon in front of the crew…who then immediately aimed their own superior firearms at him.

"Ah…" the stowaway uttered tensely, "…this is an interesting predicament…" He smiled awkwardly and tried to cosy up to his oppressors, "Completely my fault gentlemen…oh, and lady," he added quickly when Firewire hissed at him, "very pretty…in a very scary sort of way. My kind of woman. Anyway, gentlepeoplebots, I am in fact not here to commandeer your ship by any means, in fact I…"

"You what?" Megatron sneered in a deadly whisper, leaning his face in closer to the amateur usurper, "By what miracle of the Matrix did your tiny little mind believe that you could outwit and overthrow the power of two Megatrons?"

The colour left the bot's face and his mouth opened as if to speak, but an invisible plug temporarily impaired his speech.

"Oh, this is Megatron's ship, is it?" he laughed jauntily, "I must be in the wrong quadrant," he said as complacently as if he had picked up the wrong parts for his hovercraft. "In which case gentlemen…and lady…" he gingerly pushed the guns pointed at him away with one finger, "I shall be heading off. Turrah. I'll be sure to stay in touch."

He attempted to tip-toe-flee to the hole he had basted in the ceiling, but Coppertop intercepted him and took him to face Megatron, who had an amused expression plastered onto his face.

"You are quite an amusement," the dragon mused, pacing around the bot in circles.

"Ah, that is very flattering your lordship, never have I heard a voice such as yours project such eloquence,"

"Ah, flattery. A common tool for the common thief." Megatron replied snidely, keeping his bemused tone. "But every thief must have a name. Well, do you?"

"Ah!" the stranger held up an interjecting finger, "There is another question in that as to identity. Can one be identified by his name, his face, or even his actions in which case I can be classified as unidentifiable. Because to attempt to identify and unidentifiable identity would be classified as madness, savvy?"

Megatron glared at him.

"Name?" he growled slowly and deadly.

"Ah, my name," the bot said proudly and dramatically, "is Captain Sparrow-Jack."

Megatron's mouth curved into a twisted smile. "I don't see your ship…captain," he placed a cruel emphasis on the last word.

"I'm in the market…as it were," Sparrow-Jack responded leisurely, indicating the ship that now had a large hole on one if its decks.

"And what are your intentions, dare I ask?" asked Megatron, getting more amused by this space piratical buffoon by the minute.

"General tomfoolery, piracy, pillaging, anything that involves shooting things," Sparrow-Jack answered nonchalantly, "Plus any opportunity I get to take over a ship…granted, I'm not always successful, but what defines a man other than identity than the loots under his belt?"

"Can I please shoot him?" Flux snarled, charging his weapon.

"Tempting, but I think he may be of some use to us," Megatron answered, though he did consider it.

"What possible use could we have for this pirate?" scorned Firewire, looking the invader up and down with a distasteful look.

"Well madam," Sparrow-Jack swaggered over to her with a wide smile, "I can think of several uses I could have for you,"

SMACK.

"…I might have deserved that…" the sparrow mumbled, rubbing his cheek.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot more you deserve for damagin' our ship!" Coppertop bellowed.

"True sir, but it is my understanding that this isn't actually your ship either, am I right?" the pirate asked cunningly, causing everyone to go silent. "Aaah. So you are, in a way, pirates yourself. Which brings us back to our identities, right? Are you, like me, an opportunistic fellow looking to strike a good deal and a good time, or possible mercenaries who are not in the wanting to being found, so their initial want is to not want to be found, eh? But what other want for wanting is there, what?"

"What?" the crew chimed together. Megatron grew ever more impatient.

"Now listen here, my good fellow," he said conversationally to Sparrow-Jack, "I will forgive this little trespass if you agree to do one thing for me…"

"I honestly will agree to whatever it is you say, oh great one. By the code, an' all…"

"Yes, yes. There is an escape vessel floating along not too far behind us. You are to 'commandeer' it, and apprehend the occupants of said vessel…Savvy?"

"And just how do you propose I do that?"

…

……

…

"You know gents, I have come to realise that my question did not need an answer!" Sparrow-Jack stammered as he was forced into an escape pod by Coppertop and Firewire.

"No need to be so afraid, my dear brooding buccaneer," the original Megatron said with his yellow optics glowing, "sure a task as simple as this will be like making a one-legged saurian walk the plank."

"Aye, true. But even that one legged saurian had to be forced on there in the first place…" the pirate replied hopelessly as he was crammed into the small space.

"How about a kiss for luck, sweetheart?" the sparrow charmingly cooed to Firewire.

"How about, instead, I give you lunch to go?"

WHACK.

"Tasty…" the pirate mumbled from behind his hand as he rubbed his nose from his farewell knuckle sandwich.

The pod door closed and made a hissing sound. The computer then announced: "Ejection in three, two, one…"

With another loud hiss and small explosion, the pod ejected from its holding and drifted out into space, awaiting its quarry.

"Can we trust him?" Flux asked lazily as he watched the small craft sail through the vacuum.

"Not at all." Megatron answered simply. "Never trust a pirate. But he who wastes not, wants not."

…

……

…

"Are you sure that's what they said?"

"Positive. I can play it back if you want, I recorded it just in case…"

"No, that won't be necessary. You can go now Quickstep. Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Whitefang."

Quickstep nodded and the canine femme nodded respectfully, and both left their leader's chambers. Before the got out of the doorway, Quickstep said, "I really do hope I'm wrong…"

That conversation was still playing in her mind as Jagna read and reread Signia's report on their mission from the other day. They were ambushed at the very moment they were scheduled to finish, and at the exact location.

She called in Greyback for his opinion, and his optics remained glued to the report file as she cautiously revealed the potential situation.

"How?..." she kept saying to herself, pacing frantically in her chambers. The situation was beyond serious. The Predacons were one step ahead of them each time, but she couldn't bring herself to consider the possibility of one of her own betraying her.

Greyback, on the other hand, had his optics on everyone. His first suspicions were one of Optimus' crew, including Optimus himself. Things had gotten worse since their arrival, no one could deny that, but at the same time…he had warmed to them. Optimus seemed far too genuine to be a spy. Plus, his and his team's past with Arachnikahn was evident.

He stood in the doorway of his commander's office, watching her wear a hole in the floor.

"You know, we could be reading too deep into this," he commented lightly. She stopped and looked at him with a raised brow. He shrugged and continued, "They've infiltrated us from the outside before, Jag. He could easily do it again."

She huffed. He was right. Kahn was unbelievably smart, and was perfectly capable of subtle espionage. But something was nagging at the back of her head.

"I just can't shake the feeling," she said, continuing to pace. "It's just too perfect, isn't it? It's almost like I've debriefed him on our missions myself!"

Greyback nodded grimly. "It could be a communications hack. Now that they know where our bases are, they'd have no problem erecting a hacking tower…" He raised his shoulders defensively when she caught his eye, "Anything's possible."

She tried to consider this eventuality, but her frustration took over very quickly. She turned away, leaned against the wall and hung her head. A few seconds later she felt Greyback's arms wrap around her waist. He leaned his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck.

"We'll figure this out. Okay?" he whispered reassuringly.

There was a cough from behind them. Greyback pulled away and they turned around to see Dragonstail in the doorway, cowing the floor as usual.

"Is this a bad time?" the stallion asked timidly.

"Is that a trick question?" Jagna answered with a light chuckle. "Nah, come on in, DT. What's up?"

"I, uh, just wanted to let you know I finished my scan of the northern quadrant. All clear," he answered, keeping his optics fixed firmly on the floor.

"Right," Greyback said, folding his arms trying to think, "well, that's that sector covered. You're relieved of your duties for today, Tail. Go get some rest."

"That's great. Thanks Grey, Jag…" he nodded to them. As he left, he squinted his eyes tightly shut and bit his lip. Greyback noticed this, but only briefly.

"What's with him?" he asked Jagna, who shrugged.

The minute he was outside the base, Dragonstail galloped to the other side of the mountain, out of range of cameras, and buried his face in his hands.

Slowly, after two whole cycles of heavy breathing, he withdrew a strange looking communications device. Making sure no one was around, he activated it. A hologram produced itself in front of him. The face it projected sickened him, especially when it smirked.

"Dragonstail reporting…" he said slowly and painfully, "…next mission will be announced in the morning. You'll get more info then…"

"Excellent work!" Arachnikahn's obnoxiously gleeful voice sneered through the communicator. "And might I add, you did a superb job today. I've never seen that miserable cat so gut-wrenched,"

"Yeah, I'm sure it was just dandy," Dragonstail replied resentfully, "Just remember our deal!"

The hologram of the Predacon leader smiled cruelly. "I will if you will…"

The Maximal spy huffed and quickly shut off the communicator. He resented what he was doing and had been doing for nearly two stellar cycles. His thoughts wandered back to his comrades. He was ashamed of himself for even thinking to call himself their comrade, their friend…

"Tails!"

He jumped and spun around, quickly and clumsily shoving the communicator back in his subspace.

"Oh, hi honey," he said sheepishly as Saddleback cantered jollily towards him. "What's up?"

"What's up?" the mare repeated in an offended tone when she transformed. Dragonstail raised his brow ridge, and she continued, "I haven't seen you for four days, Tails. Where've you been hiding, I've been trying to contact you…"

He stared into her big, innocent optics, trying to ignore her playfully pouting lips. "I'm so sorry, hun, I've been unbelievably…"

"Busy?" she cut in, folding her arms and shifting her weight onto her right leg, "I've been doing monitor duty all day, and your shift was only two megacycles…this morning…" Her suspicions were confirmed when he didn't respond. "What is going on?" she asked a little more desperately.

"I, uh…" he cowed his foot and wringed his hands. He knew it was his calling card, but he couldn't help himself. He shook his head and faced her. "How long have we been together, Saddleback? 11 stellar cycles?" She coyly smiled and nodded, and he continued, stuttering every now and then, "I know I've been a little….y'know, lately, and I uh, I have my reasons." He gazed deeply into her optics, and suddenly he forgot about everything else. He took her hands in both of his and bent onto one knee. He smiled when he saw her stunned expression, "It would honour me greatly Saddleback, if you would allow me to make up for this, for the rest of our lives…"

She said nothing, the same stunned expression fixed on her face.

"What do you say?" he asked gently, gripping her hands in his.

Her answer was simple. His audio receptors nearly ruptured as she squealed and threw her arms around him, knocking them both onto the floor. Laughing, they squeezed each other tightly, smiling from ear to ear.

"That was a yes, by the way," Saddleback giggled. Eventually they got up, still grinning. "I gotta tell Slapstix, do you mind?" Her excitement was flowing through her, and he couldn't say no to her.

"Make sure he doesn't make fun of me," he joked as she kissed him and trotted back towards the base.

As he watched her happily saunter away, his smile disappeared. He was reminded of earlier, how disgraced he felt, and despite the overwhelming joy of the last 10 cycles, he slumped back into his self berating.

"You wretched piece of slag…" he scorned himself, digging his fingers into the back of his neck. Then he whispered, with the utmost self hate, "You slagging spy…"

…

……

…

Later, the stallion was trotting along his patrol, brooding. How could he even begin to think he was worthy of her? He was a wretched traitor, se was too good and pure for him. He would have to tell her. Even if it meant she would hate him forever, he couldn't go on like this. She was his only friend…He had made a point to alienate himself from the others when he started working for Kahn against his will. But there was something about Saddleback. She was so kind to him, so understanding, that he couldn't stay away from her. Both at once he wished he had stayed well away from her, but also would never have given up their time together for anything in the universe.

As he was mulling through his head how he would tell her (there were many version, and none sounded at all good), there was strange humming sound coming from above him. At first, he disregarded it as a bird or something, but as it grew louder, he looked up, ears raised.

An enormous cloud was moving at an irregular speed towards the desert. He immediately followed it. As he galloped closer to where it disappeared over a large rock formation, he heard what sounded like a soft crash. What could it be?

A few minutes later, it was now completely dark. He arrived at the so-called crash site, but there was nothing there. He Maximised at once, bracing himself for anything…

…but he could not prepare himself for this.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" said a loud, echoing voice from behind, above and all around him. He started to panic.

"Who's there?" he demanded, drawing his gun.

"Now, now there's no need to get excited," the voice said calmly, "I merely wish to talk."

He wasn't being fooled by the friendly intentions. Something about the tone suggested otherwise.

"What do you want? Who are you?!" the stallion panicked, turning in every direction to identify where the voice was coming from.

All of a sudden a strong pair of hands grabbed his from behind and yanked them behind his back. He yelled, but another strong hand punched him hard in the stomach, winding him.

The darkness was overpowering, if only he could see his adversaries perhaps he could defend himself.

The laugh returned. But it sounded more like two voices. He looked up, gasped in horror as two burning red optics glared down at him.

"I require your services, Maximal. Yesss…"

***