Tumbleweeds

Having an altmode of the SUV variety, Swindle possessed the ability to fly over the rough terrain leading to the Combaticon base, just like the way the desert antelope sprinted over the same ground alongside him. The limber creatures darted out of his way, long before he reached their small herd, a few of them bounding lightly and gracefully in the direction he was heading, keeping up with him for only a few paces. They turned their attention back to the golden patches of field grass when he was out of sight.

Swindle went faster. He knew this trail well already, it was a relatively clear and smooth way back to the base. As long as he minded where the small heads of cactus sticking out of the ground on either side of him were, he could make it home without any serious damage to his tires.

There was a slight crosswind this afternoon, and every few miles, a strong gust would come and push him to the side. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, it was more of an annoyance rather than a hindrance, but sometimes the wind carried sudden surprises for him.

"Ouch!" A hulking mass of dry, thorny desert foliage smacked into his front fender. He hated those things. The slagging plant carcasses splintered upon impact and the small fragments got themselves wedged into his joints and undercarriage.

It was a very unpleasant feeling to say the least.

The jagged stone formations that marked the entry way into the base loomed on the horizon before him. Once home, he was intent on going straight to the washracks for a nice long shower where he could let the water strip away all the dirt that matted his frame and pick out the annoying splinters from the dead rolling hunks of weeds out of his joints.

This planet was a mess. Never before had he come back from a simple business trip so filthy, until he ended up on this world. He could have just flown home, but he couldn't really spare the energy right then, and he didn't feel like having Onslaught get on his case about wasting valuable energon.

The rocks that marked the rim of the base were close now, and he decreased his speed to begin his way down the steep slope. At least below the rim there was less wind, and he didn't have to worry about being pushed around by the stray gusts. All seemed quiet as he reached the bottom, and he thought he would make it to the washracks without being bothered to report or whatnot. Until he saw Onslaught step out from the shadows in the doorway.

He halted in front of his brother, sitting in altmode a few seconds longer than usual before transforming. As he shifted, he could feel numerous pinpricks under his armor...

"Hey Ons," he muttered. Onslaught arched his brow at his brother's unusual weary tone of voice. Swindle picked up on it. "Don't worry, I'm just tired."

"Even so," the Combaticon leader began, "You're the only one who is here, other than Rainburn and I. So I'm sorry to say that you'll have to help clean up this mess."

Mess? Swindle was going to ask him just what that mess was when he stopped to look around him.

A sound like a long-suffering sigh escaped his vents. All along the perimeter of the base were piles and piles of those fragging rolling masses of dead foliage. Everywhere. The wind must have blown an entire field of those things and their base only acted as a big catching pan. Primus must be hating him today...

"Do I have to do it now?" Swindle whined. He didn't usually fuss with Onslaught, unless he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, but he thought the situation called for it. He really wanted a bath right now, not to be given some menial task that could surely wait for another time. "Hey, you know I picked up a new military strategy game from the humans," he forced himself to perk up to cast the bait to his offer, "I could show it to you if you want."

Onslaught was unfazed. "Rainburn has already started. Now go and help him." And with that, Onslaught turned away to go back inside.

Swindle glared after him. He was tempted to just go inside, slip quietly into the washracks, and then lock himself in his quarters. But a startled "Ouch!" made him turn.

He scanned the pile of weeds to one side of him. It shuttered oddly before a small, dark blue buggy burst out from under it. Rainburn spun on his wheels and faced the pile, seeming to glare at it menacingly for poking him.

If he wasn't in a sour mood, Swindle would have been amused. "What are you doing, Rain?"

The little vehicle jerked, and then transformed. Once on two legs, Rainburn kicked at the pile of weeds, and then ran over to his uncle. "The stupid things don't stack up right!" he said, sounding a little exasperated. "They keep falling on top of me!"

"Why don't you carry them by hand?'

Rainburn didn't answer him, and Swindle could tell by the look the sparkling gave him that in his head, he was saying, "Because it's not as fun." Swindle vented out a sigh, and glanced around, looking for an easy way to get it all over with. He spotted an area that was fairly clear of any important equipment and pointed the place out to Rainburn. "Tell you what, move them over into a new pile over there, and we'll burn them."

Rainburn gazed up at him hopefully. "Do I get to start the fire?"

"Sure."

The sparkling clicked happily and went back to the mass of dead brush. He carefully grabbed two of the weeds by hand, holding them lightly by the stem, well away from his joints. He was about to move them, when he glanced up and noticed Swindle just standing there, watching him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm supervising," Swindle answered off-handedly, picking at a few thorns in his fingers.

"You have to help too," Rainburn scowled. "I'm not doing it by myself. Besides, I heard Father say you had to help."

Swindle glared at him. "I don't have to do anything," he said, turning his nose up in the air.

Rainburn frowned at his uncle. He sighed and picked up the weeds again, starting to drag them over to the burning spot once more. "Not like you could do much anyway," he muttered snidely, dragging the weeds away.

"What's that?" Swindle fixed his gaze hard on him, the remark not slipping under his audios.

Rainburn looked over his shoulder as he went past, his best smirk plastered on his faceplates. "You just don't want to make yourself look bad."

Swindle knew he was being baited, though he wasn't going to back down from the challenge. "What are you saying?"

"You know I can do much more than you."

"Really?" Swindle smirked back at the sparkling.

Rainburn nodded. "Yeah. Especially since I'm not old, like you."

Swindle wasn't expecting that. Why you little... "I'll have you know that I was the kid here until you came along."

"So, you're jealous then?"

Ok, he walked right into that. "Why would I be jealous of a snobbish little punk like you?"

Rainburn shrugged, and dragged the weeds all the way to the desired place. Then he turned and went back for two more. He made sure to give a sly, toothy grin to the jeep on the way.

Swindle supposed the kid was picking up things a little too well from his uncles. That grin just said 'You know I'm right'. Rainburn had started dragging two more bunches across the base grounds, still making sure he had Swindle's eye contact as he walked by him. The jeep watched the sparkling throw the weeds onto the pile and then turn back to get two more. Again, Rainburn gazed at him when he passed.

He picked up another set and started on his way back again, but this time he stopped in front of Swindle. The jeep stared at him. "Why'd you stop? You were doing such a good job," Swindle sneered.

Rainburn just stared at him blankly. Then he smirked evilly, and Swindle couldn't help but tense...

"SWINDLE!"

The jeep nearly jumped out of his shell at Onslaught's roar. He whirled around at gazed up at his brother's towering form. "Uh, hey Ons-"

"I told you get this mess cleaned up."

Swindle stepped back involuntarily. "I-I was. I mean, we were."

"Really?" Onslaught moved forward, looking around Swindle's shoulder at the heaping pile that still remained.

"Yeah, we're doing fin-"

"Daaaad!"

Both Swindle and Onslaught stared at Rainburn at his sudden call of distress. The sparkling was sitting on the ground, holding one leg awkwardly in his hands, the weeds he'd picked up tossed to the side for the moment.

"I think there's a sticker in my knee!" he whined pitifully. "It hurts!"

Onslaught pushed past Swindle and crouched down besides Rainburn. "Let me see."

Rainburn complied, letting his father take his 'injured' leg in his own hand. Rainburn gave a slight twitch as Onslaught looked over the limb. "What if you wash it out?" he asked Onslaught timidly.

Swindle was fuming already. He could see where this was going.

"That might be the best solution," Onslaught replied. "Come." He reached for Rainburn, the sparkling wrapping his arms around his neck as he was picked up gingerly. Swindle couldn't help but notice how Rainburn made sure to whimper and rest his head sadly in the crook of Onslaught's neck.

Onslaught turned to go back inside. Rainburn twisted in his arms to look over his father's shoulder at his furious uncle. Swindle's glare was broken from Rainburn's gaze when he heard his brother. "Swindle, finish clearing up the base."

There was no room for argument in Onslaught's voice. Swindle accepted his defeat, glaring daggers at the sparkling that was being carried away. He was riled even further when Rainburn threw a triumphant smirk back at him.

Little slagger...