-Hate triangle-
Technically Counter Balance shouldn't have felt this nervous. With all the datapads scattered about haphazardly and the many knickknacks and exotic trinkets the small, chaotic office looked outright cozy. It couldn't be less fitting for one of the most powerful mechs still online on this planet. And yet, the former senator seated in the chair behind the ever crowded desk was radiating power, control and wisdom that even the Prime would have had a difficult time competing with.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" He asked respectfully, standing at full attention.
"Yes Counter, there is good news. Our persistence during the negotiations with the science and tactical division finally paid off," Alpha Trion announced, however, he seemed all but happy about the new development. In fact it had been ages since Counter had seen his superior in such a downcast mood.
"That is … surprising, sir," he carefully responded. "I got the impression that especially tactical wasn't willing to trust us after our last blunder."
"I managed to remind them that your troupe was the only one which managed to bring us any warning of the attack at all, no matter how clumsy in the execution."
The old mech exvented heavily. He looked extremely tired, not only of the orn long haggling and bickering the negotiations had doubtlessly consisted of, but of the overall situation and the whole damn war as well.
"It is a sad thing it needed a tragedy like Crystal City to convince the remaining parties that the device is no longer safe on Cybertron."
Both mechs fell silent for a breem until Alpha Trion finally spoke:
"I entrust you with arranging everything, I don't have to tell you that the safety of the artifact is of utmost importance."
"Yes, sir!"
~I only wish we actually had competent agents to handle it... Speaking of which, what the Pit is keeping those damn femmes?~
oOo
They still hadn't taken off. After making sure the hiding place of their cargo hadn't been compromised and then scavenging the wreck of their own ship, Vault had insisted on checking the engines and the holds of the bountyhunter ship as to make certain that 'the scrapheap doesn't explode below our afts'. True, they were far away from basically everywhere so that the escaped Copter-Con would have to be extremely lucky to pick up any reinforcements to be back with within five orns but then luck hadn't exactly been on their side regarding this planet ever before and Temper would have preferred not to linger any longer.
This was not the real reason she was agitated though. No, said reason was currently shackled up in a locked cabin on the other side of the ship. The damned Con wasn't even locked up in one of the holding cells – no, of course not! She was enjoying the luxury of one of the crew cabins. The only precaution Vault had taken was slapping some energy cuffs on her and making sure the door couldn't be opened from inside by crushing the control panel. Temper couldn't grasp why Vault would do something like this and so far the taller femme had shrugged all and any of her questions and accusations off.
"Dammit, Vault! Stop ignoring me! Or isn't it just your cpu that finally rusted over but your vocalizer too?" Temper snarled as she followed the other tank deeper into the bountyhunter vessel. Vault however seemed to have enough of that now, as she glared at her and pulled Temper into the storage hold, which was basically stuffed with heaps of garbage – the bountyhunters hadn't bothered about cleaning up once in a while it appeared.
Even though there was no way that the damn Con could possibly hear them here, the black tankformer kept her voice low.
"What is that with revenge bent bots losing all of their processing power when it comes to dealing with an enemy? Seriously Temper, you still haven't figured out why to take her along? Or why not to speak about it in front of her? It is slagging obvious!"
"Whu… what?" The smaller femme managed to stutter.
Vault took a deep calming vent before she continued in an infuriatingly lenient tone, as if speaking with a youngling: "She. Escaped. Shockwave's. Prison. I haven't heard of anyone accomplishing that within the last ten vorns, and definitely not of anyone doing so without outside help."
"If what she is saying is the truth! It could be all… some big Decepticon plot! She gains our trust, learns all about our mission and then…" Temper mimicked the gesture of cutting somebot's neck-cables.
Vault pondered that for a moment, which actually seemed to sooth her partner somewhat, as her concerns were not just brushed aside. It proved clearly that even now for Vault the mission came first.
"Possible but very unlikely, I doubt she is that a brilliant an actor. Still if she is lying, she will sooner or later slip up, even the best do. We need to keep an optic on that, so more friendly interrogating is in order," she finally decided. "But not just about that. Do you remember what she was tasked to do when we first met her?"
"Looting a shipwreck." Temper slowly pondered and yet she was sure the black tankformer had something more specific in mind. "Rescuing the energon!"
"Exactly! She was overseeing the Vehicons constructing an energon depot, and from the looks of it, it wasn't the first time she did that. Then there is the tidbit of information that Mayday hasn't been back to Cybertron even once since enlisting, which makes you wonder why, as she looks like easy cannon-fodder for the frontlines – so the Cons needed her for something else. Now considering that the only one energon vein we discovered offworld was guarded by something that was later identified as a Predacon from the footage we brought back, we can conclude that…"
"… the Cons are storing huge amounts of energon supplies all over this sector of space and have been doing so for vorns already!" Temper finished for her. "And our little glitch knows where most of those stashes are, because she created the depots." A glint shimmered in her optics as she flexed her servos. "We only need to make her talk."
"Finally getting my drift. It will be difficult, no two guesses about that. She completely believes all that Decepticon propaganda slag. So… You up for 'good Autobot, bad Autobot'?"
Temper shook her helm: "There is one big problem with that plan."
As Vault cast her a questioning glance she added:
"Where do we find a 'good' Autobot out here?"
oOo
"You know this would be a lot easier, if you hadn't trashed the regeneration pods when you blew up our ship. And your selfrepair is gonna be down for another couple of orns, since I doubt you'll be able to recharge with the amount of anti-freeze I had to inject you with. Funny thing that, I wondered forever what was keeping Upgrade out of stasis, and it was there, written out in bold letters right on the bottle. Just never took the time to read about the side effects before applying it to him. You know? Upgrade? The orange Autobot?"
Mayday stared hatefully at Blackbox not answering, as the black tankformer was wrapping more ducttape around her damaged plating. She would have liked to protest this treatment, but Not-a-drone and Blackbox herself sported equal makeshift repairs.
"Anyway I still haven't figured out how you did that either, destroying the regen pods I mean. How much explosives did you use there?"
Mayday still ignored the traitor as the tankformer kept talking.
The chatting felt forced and the friendliness was definitely faked. Blackbox was babbling for Primus' sake.
~She only repairs me so I won't deactivate before they can torture me.~ she concluded and Mayday's friends agreed completely with her. Blackbox was up to something.
"I have to say, I am impressed. Well, so is Shockwave apparently. You know, the bounty he's offering for you is actually double as high as the one Megatron put on my helm?"
That got a reaction as Mayday shot halfway up from her seat in outrage before a pang from her injuries stopped her. Fighting back a pained groan, she sank down again.
"Well if that is what unwavering loyalty for Megatron gets you, I guess I can be glad I never joined up for his cause."
And there finally was the expected mockery and … ~Wait what?~
"You are a Neutral?!" Mayday couldn't help but ask incredulously.
The tank glared at her looking almost insulted now. "Why is it so hard for anyone to believe that I might be an Autobot by choice?" Blackbox asked but didn't care for an answer. The repairs on the cycle being finished with, the tankformer rose to her pedes and left the room without another comment.
~I would have never… Is that even possible? Her an Autobot?~ she tried to imagine Blackbox with the Prime's insignia and failed.
:She is lying!: both her friends insisted.
:She doesn't have any faction symbol.: The nice voice started off with.
:Autobots are the weakling marionettes of the senate!: The mean voice was fast to add before it continued: :And all Neutrals are cowards, too afraid to get their servos dirty.:
:Decpticons are the ones who don't mind betrayal and backstabbing to reach their goals.: The nice voice declared with some pride. :We know that from experience after all.:
~No that isn't true, remember Skyquake? Never met a more honorable mech.~
:Hah, that's just Skyquake's 'holier than you'-attitude, even commander Makeshift made fun of that. Everyone said he was too soft sparked to be a true Decepticon.: The mean voice sneered.
~So Blackbox is mean, she is a traitor, she is a sparkles killer… she must be a Decepticon.~ Somehow this logical reasoning and proof that Blackbox was lying once more didn't make Mayday feel better. It was as if she was missing something important here and just couldn't see it. And the more she was trying to, the more it made her helm hurt.
oOo
Temper entered the prisoner's cabin about three joors later. Vault had called it: 'Giving the Con enough time to steam in her own oil.'
The scouttank really hoped she would do this right. Aside from the one time she had been on the wrong side of an interrogation table herself, she had no experience with this.
Vault had used the time to explain their strategy to her in detail.
Threats wouldn't get them very far with a stubborn prisoner like Mayday. For a successful interrogation they needed more subtle tactics. It was important to coax the prisoner into sharing information with the 'good' Autobot, just to spite the 'bad' one that had aggravated them. On top of that Mayday needed to believe that whatever she told them was so unimportant it wouldn't cause any harm to the Decepticon cause. This might lower her guard and loosen her glossa.
Since Vault's instructions about the interrogation methods were already complicated enough, Temper had shoved away the idea of checking what the script had to say about that topic. So far there hadn't been a single thing in there that she had been able to do right anyway.
If nothing else the extended briefing had given the scouttank time to cool down so she could think with a calmer processor now.
However, as soon as she opened the cabin door and her optics fell on the prisoner's purple insignia the anger and hatred came rushing right back at full force.
At least she didn't have to play nice.
oOo
Vault wasn't sure how it happened, she had checked the fuel before they launched off. Yet the computer insisted that the tank was empty and that the ship was left running on fumes only. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she had to admit to herself that they wouldn't make it back to Cybertron, not without a refuel. The risk of a collision was far too high and it would at least triple their traveling time, if they just went drifting, not even to mention how difficult landing safely would be with both tanks completely dry. Just where the Pit was she supposed to find an open fuel station in this Primus-forsaken sector of space?
However as soon as she had started pondering about it, her optics spotted a strange echo on the radar. The device signalized close proximity of an unidentified object coming their way. Vault's energon froze in her cabling. If that was a Decepticon warship, they were doomed!
Quickly, she checked the main screen. She was able to see it already, even without a zoom. The 'thing' was huge but it wasn't a warship. It was a gigantic transgalactic cruise liner – a 'flying city' as some bots liked to call it. Before the war spacecrafts like this had been used by rich Cybertronians to travel around the universe. Nowadays, the only purpose for those giant ships was to evacuate civilians to the offworld colonies. This meant that there was nothing to be afraid of, the cruise liner wouldn't attack them but it might actually help them. A big spacecraft like this needed a lot of fuel, so maybe she could talk its captain into sharing some with them? What kind of mech wouldn't offer a helping servo to a ladybot in distress? And if it was a femme captain or they really didn't agree... Well, they probably wouldn't notice, if a few deka-cubes of fuel disappeared.
Decision made, Vault sent a message. Soon enough, the cruise liner responded with a permission to dock. Strangely, as the ramp of the bountyhunter ship touched the hangar floor and she climbed out, nobody showed up to welcome her aboard. Of course, she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, however she had never expected a hall this big to be so lifeless. Where were the security mechs to escort the unknown visitor to the officer in charge? Where were all the mechanics or maintenance workers? This was more than a little suspicious and asked for an investigation.
Feeling her anxiety growing, Vault wandered off as quietly as possible. Not a single bot crossed her path when she climbed up the stairs and took the first door to the right. The narrow corridor greeted her with a dim, greenish light. Slowly, she moved on, even though her instincts told her to turn back as long as there was still time. This place reminded her of an old-school ghost town from a cheap horror novel. But if there were no living bots aboard, who had given her permission to land? She had to find out.
With a nervous ex-vent, Vault activated her plasma-guns and prepared herself for whatever might await her.
She jumped out from behind a corner ready to shoot, however, there was no enemy – only the second part of the grim corridor that seemed to be endless. She kept on walking until she finally saw the exit on the other side, faint light flowing out from the doorframe. A tiny bit of hope filled her spark, she rushed to the door. Then her damaged pede locked up again. This unexpected malfunction slowed her down to the point that she was barely moving. Supporting herself with a servo on the corridor wall she limped forward.
It took her a while to register the low vibrations running through the stale atmosphere and identify them as music. The tune was something old and classical from Tarn, familiar but she had never bothered about learning the name of the composition. With it came a sense of foreboding and 'not-right' but Vault didn't hesitate, and pushed on. She didn't know how long she had struggled but in the end she managed to reach the exit. Exhausted, Vault pushed the 'open' button.
Unleashed noise and light washed over her like a tidal wave. It was a vast ballroom, where hundreds, maybe thousands of mechs and femmes were crowding in, laughing, chattering and dancing.
Out of the corner of her optic she spied a bright frame among the duller grey ones of the crowd, she turned to get a better look, and her vents stalled as she recognized the self-confident posture, the voice and the gestures of the mech.
"White-Lie?" she called out but he didn't react, obviously unable to hear her over the din. Vault tried to get closer, but a group of dancers swirled in between her and the other. Once she had made her way around them what appeared to be her caretaker had already disappeared into the crowd.
She didn't even have time to dwell on her disappointment before she registered another flash of color, this time it was a spindly green mech dancing to the melody with far more grace than anybot would have given his lanky frame credit for.
"Verdigris," Vault muttered, this time not even trying to lift her voice as she moved towards him. Absorbed into his dance her brother mingled into the crowd without even noticing Vault was there. By the time she had reached his position, he had completely disappeared from her sight.
It didn't take Vault long to spot more members of the Grey Servo Syndicate: her other brother Red Mace, the two eldest creations Arsenic and Quicksilver and the helm of the family Greyscale, who was watching the ball from the sidelines, plotting and scheming as always. Then there were some strange bots she was sure she had never met but their violet frames seemed oddly familiar. It didn't matter who she tried to approach though, whenever she came close they just disappeared between the other guests, completely ignoring her. It was incredibly frustrating! Her engine growled lowly.
~What's going on here?~
"I would ask you whether you come here often but I don't want to deactivate this young."
The snarl died in Vault's vocalizer as she whirled around to the speaker. He looked exactly how she remembered him with one exception: his new, bright orange paintjob couldn't be called anything but gorgeous.
"I didn't expect to see you this soon again, Upgrade." Despite her best efforts she couldn't help her lipplates curl up into something that resembled a smile.
The mech in front of her smiled as well albeit a bit sadly.
"Remember, Upgrade is offline. So that is no longer my designation."
Of all the times the mech had to be complicated was now, as if Vault wasn't already quite annoyed by the hide and seek games her sparkrelatives were playing with her.
"Wouldn't it be prudent then to introduce yourself first to a ladybot?" She asked maybe a bit sharper than she should have.
The orange truckformer just kept smiling, now a bit mischievously: "You are absolutely right, how rude of me to withhold my designation. Come a bit closer," he beckoned her, "so I can whisper it into your audial."
Vault would swear the mech was actually purring the words. She could feel how her annoyance melted into nothing and she had to forcefully keep her cooling fans from activating as her core temperature suddenly kicked up.
Slowly, she leaned into his smaller frame bringing her faceplate closer to his. The music was still playing, now softer than before, the dancers and their chatter fading more and more into the background, unimportant.
The mech's optics dimmed as he inched closer as well. She could pick up the faint smell of machine oil and fresh polish coming from him. Their lipplates were almost touching, Almost... Vault shuttered her optics completely, waiting. Just one more astrosecond and...
A loud metallic 'thunk' jerked her back up. She fell back into the pilot chair as her damaged pede protested the strain put on it by her sudden movement.
~Where…?~
The insistent beeping of the radar brought Vault completely back to her senses. There was a huge piece of space-debris right in front of the ship. Wasting no time, she grabbed the steering and gave it a rapid jerk just avoiding to crash right into the floating rock.
She had fallen into recharge while piloting and with the autopilot off! Her whole frame felt overheated too, she must have been in far worse shape from the Tox-en and the system damage than she had though. ~Such a stupid, stupid mistake!~
Still upset, she checked the monitor readings. Everything seemed to function just fine, the ship was on its course again and the fuel gauge was showing the tanks were still half-full. But what had startled her awake then? First there had been something… orange? And then there was that sudden loud noise and …
"I should have offlined you first chance I had!" Someone shouted, the angry, high-pitched voice coming from the cabin further back. That voice sounded like Temper. But Temper was supposed to be interrogating the prisoner, so why would she...
~Scrap!~
The black tankformer jumped to her pedes at once, ignoring the pain in the wedged leg components and made a dash for the door, praying to Primus that the situation wasn't as bad as it had sounded.
Seriously, couldn't she take a break even for a single joor without those two glitchheads starting to go crazy?
oOo
Five breems earlier:
Mayday startled as she heard pedesteps from the corridor outside. Hastily she pulled back from the remains of the door's control pad she had been fiddling with and moved as silently as possible back to the berth to sit on. She barely managed before the door opened and Not-a-drone stalked in. The violet tank cast her a poisonous look as if the cycleformer was a virus infected petrorat.
Deciding not to show any weaknesses Mayday puffed up her armor to appear more massive and snarled: "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Drone-clone? Has Blackbox decided not to dirty her servos by torturing me herself?"
The Autobot growled lowly from deep within her engine in response.
"Torture you for what? Information? You are flattering yourself! You have no rank, you weren't even stationed on a base or at least an outpost. You must be the most useless and unimportant Con in the galaxy."
:What a surprise, I have to agree with the Autoscum,: the voice Mayday had started to identify as 'Meany' snickered, much to her annoyance.
:Don't listen to that. Who cares about her opinion, besides if you were really so unimportant, why would they bother taking you with them online?: The nice voice by now dubbed as 'Cutie' added hastily.
Meanwhile the tankformer ranted on, apparently oblivious to the quick exchange between Mayday's two friends: "Even if your sob-story about being Shockwave's prisoner and escaping should be remotely true – which I doubt – the mech would have long since changed any passwords or security setups in his fortress."
If the Autobot was trying to aggravate her, she would have to do better. And the tank still hadn't given a cause for her presence in Mayday's cell as of yet.
~Waiiit. Is this already supposed to be part of an interrogation?~ Mayday had been through enough of that scrap already at the servos of her own faction. Compared to that Drone-clone's attempts to put pressure on her were pitiable.
Instead of listening Mayday resumed her actions from before the tank had interrupted her. It had been luck they had actually thrown her into a cabin and not into a real cell or a cage. After making sure there were no monitoring devices in the room, the cycleformer had looked for anything that could be used as a weapon. Her captors had searched the room only sloppily as she had managed to acquire quite a little selection of small metal pieces, remnants of broken tools most likely.
After that she had worked on the energy-cuffs with a thin steel needle and by now a tiny piece of the cover that protected the cabling inside had given way. Just a small cut and the energy blockers would go offline. And the door to the room was still unlocked. Actually the only thing separating her from freedom was that annoying violet nuisance blocking the way out.
:All the better, then you don't have to offline her and Blackbox at the same time,: Meanie provided.
:You just have to trick this dronehelm, you can do it!:
~Yes, let's see how difficult it is to provoke her, and when she gets closer…~ she agreed as she hastily pulled a plan together.
"Apparently I'm not the only useless mechanism here then, if you have so much free time to waste it with me," Mayday hissed through gritted denta. She didn't even have to put on much of an act, snarling at the Autoscum came natural.
"Hardly, I'm just here to drop off an energon ration for you," the tankformer countered. To prove the truth of her words she pulled a sealed cube out of her trunk compartment.
Mayday could barely stop her tank from giving a rumble at the display of the fuel. All low-energy warnings she had so far successfully managed to ignore popped back up in her cpu violently.
"But seeing how pathetic you are I think it is wasted on you," Not-a-drone suddenly smirked.
Mayday frowned, the Autoscum wouldn't… she did! The tankformer had unsealed the cube and now was chugging its contents down herself.
That was… evil, that was…
:PERFEKT!: Both her friends shouted.
As if she had only waited for their signal, Mayday brushed off the cuffs and charged at the wide open femme in front of her.
Mayday felt her claws extending. She raked them at the damaged abdominal plating that was only covered by a thin layer of ducttape. Simultaneously she shoved the other femme's arm with the energon cube in the tankformer's faceplate.
The other let out a sharp cry as the energon splashed into her optics. It took just one more shove and the path was clear.
Mayday slipped out of the door and put her fisted servo right through the outer control panel.
The door hissed shut right in front of Not-a-drone's faceplate.
There was a loud thump as the scouttank threw herself into the sealed door, then servos hammering on it.
"I should have offlined you first chance I had!" The other screeched from inside.
"You? Hah! Not in a million vorns!" Mayday sneered back. Now only to find Blackbox. She would have to be quick, with that much noise Drone-clone was making, the traitor would be alert already. First off she'd have to find her, though, and preferably some big-aft cannon or explosive to offline the traitor for good.
She darted down the corridor, not sure where to look for either.
:Try the doors!: Cutie was encouraging as usually. And she followed the advice, frantically trying each control panel she was running by.
~How can every damn door be code locked?~
:Stop wasting time, just run!: Meanie soon had enough of her vain attempts.
As there were no more doors anyway but the one at the end of the corridor, Mayday set to bolting. Unfortunately that door did open, as Blackbox hurried through.
There was no way for either of them breaking in time.
With a resounding bell like 'clank' the two femmes collided forcefully. And Mayday found herself clattering to the floor.
The cycleformer tried to get up but wasn't fast enough.
With wide open optics Mayday had to watch how Blackbox's damaged leg crumbled under her and the tank tumbled forward as if in slow motion. The whole corridor shook as the huge, heavily armored femme went down, almost crushing Mayday under her sheer weight and the force of the impact.
Through the haze of a forming processor concussion Mayday heard Meanie's voice dripping of sarcasm:
:What a spectacular escape that was! Brilliantly thought through and executed. No way you'll get that pile of junk to move without the help of a crane-former.:
~Oh, I'll so get her to move!~ Mayday countered, firing up her welding torch. The flame spluttered once and then died completely, the fuel supply shutting off as Mayday's energy level finally caved, shunting off all non-life-support systems.
However the tank seemed to have trouble as well as one leg gave under her as she tried to get up. The result was a very unhappy Mayday flattened even more into the unyielding floorpanels, with a black elbow joint squishing more of her internals.
"What the Pit is your damn weightclass again?" Mayday managed to wheeze out from under the tank. "Cityformer?"
The answer from the other femme was a low hiss, which somehow managed to carry over the din still coming from the cabin and sent shivers running down the cycleformer's spinal plating.
For once Meanie, Cutie and Mayday agreed on a sentiment: ~:Oh scrap!:~
oOo
"That must have been your worst plan ever so far. You as the 'good' Autobot? I have seen garbage-drones putting up a better act!"
"At least I didn't get locked in by my prisoner!"
"No, you just fell on her and weren't able to get up again for a full joor."
"I was sitting on her so she couldn't run off!"
"And it was impossible to let me out of that locked room during all of that time, why exactly?"
"I had assumed you'd be able to hack that broken lock in less than a breem. Not my fault if you don't live up to expectations."
The loud screechy voices ringing in her audios did nothing to soothe Mayday's growing helmache.
"Will you two just shut the Pit up?!" She yelled. "And let me down here while you're at it!" She added after an astrosecond.
The here was the ceiling. Apparently Blackbox had seen it fitting to wrap her up into a cocoon of ducttape and suspending her pedes over helm from a support strut, like some sort of punching bag.
"You already had your chance to talk!" Not-a-drone less than pleased to be interrupted during the argument, took the roll of ducttape, ripped off a piece and plastered it over Mayday's mouth.
It barely muffled the stream of insults and curses that came in reply.
The two tanks watched their prisoner struggle for a while quietly.
"We really suck at this interrogation scrap!" Blackbox finally remarked.
"Yeah," Not-a-drone deadpanned, letting herself fall into one of the passenger seats.
Blackbox was rubbing the scar between her optics.
"You know what? Counter can sort this out. That's what superiors are for," she grinned and poked Mayday lightly so the Cycleformer's suspended frame started swinging.
"I declare you being his problem now!"
