Author's Note: I know this chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but if I started on anything else, it wouldn't be finished for a while. Mainly this is a wrapping up of chapter 6 and confirming certain things. The stage is pretty much set now for the real action to start. Enjoy and please review! Don't just fave it or add it to story alerts (though that's also nice), but please tell me how I'm doing. Thanks!
Chapter 7
Fear
Humans would call it a panic attack. That inexplicable sudden fear that grips a person and squeezes all the breath out of his body. That was exactly what Silverbolt felt as they walked through the dimly lit corridors of the structure withing and under the dam. He realized within seconds that the feeling was not his own. The two humans who lead the way had not noticed his sudden intake of breath or the way his jaw tightened, but his companions did.
"Tell me," Cheetor said in a low voice.
Never comfortable with sharing any information he got from the bond, Silverbolt growled under his breath and uttered a single word: "Fear."
"I hope that doesn't mean she ran into the third spark," was the younger man's only response.
"That I cannot tell you," Silverbolt's expression was solemn, "but she is not a woman easily frightened."
It was an understatement. In fact, he rarely felt this kind of borderline terror from his mate. The woman who had single-handedly sent Rampage, one of the most feared monsters in Cybertronian history, sailing into a canyon wall was rarely truly afraid. She took everything, even near-death situations, with determination and acceptance. Irrational fear was completely out of character for her, and yet here it was.
If he'd ever compared notes with Cheetor on what being a kid in a war was like, Nightscream would have discovered that the two of them had completely different experiences. Cheetor had been slightly older at the beginning of the Beast Wars than Nightscream himself had been when Megatron's virus hit Cybertron, but that was a minor difference. The biggest was that up until the first time Optimus died destroying the alien moon, war had been a game for Cheetor. He never seriously thought he could loose anyone. Sure, a few Preds might get blown up, but none of his friends could ever be seriously hurt, because after all, they were the good guys.
Nightscream knew better. He knew that death didn't discriminate Predacon from Maximal. It was a little difficult not to accept and expect death when it looked like he was the only spark left on Cybertron. For countless time, before the others arrived, he'd fought tooth and claw to stay alive, stay one step ahead off the drones. He may have butted heads with the other Maximals more than a few times, but he honestly didn't know what he would have done if he lost them. Waking up alone on Earth had been a nightmare all over again and being left alone while the humans spoke to Blackarachnia hadn't helped.
He'd paced the floor of the infirmary, glanced at the medical charts that went completely over his head, and finally settled on flipping through an old magazine from several years ago that had an announcement of the construction of the first – and as it turned out only – Autobot City on Earth. There was even a faded photo of the human president posing with Optimus Prime and looking rather ridiculous next to the thirty foot tall Autobot leader.
When Blackarachnia returned a full hour later, he tossed the magazine aside and jumped off the bed, ready to demand why she'd left him, but all thoughts of that disappeared as he watched her begin to pace the length of the room, hands firmly planted on her hips.
"What's wrong?" he finally asked carefully when he worked up the nerve. Nightscream had no desire to be on the wrong end of the black widow's temper.
She stopped pacing and turned to look at him for such a long moment that he had the strongest urge to run and hide.
"When they were running all those tests on you," she jerked her hand towards his medical file, "did they ever hurt you? Did you ever feel like they were doing something... something they shouldn't have been?"
"They shouldn't have been doing any of it," he snapped, remembering all the prodding and probing the humans put him through. "But if you're asking did they torture me, then I guess not. They always told me what they were gonna do before they did it and stuff like that."
She nodded and then resumed her pacing, which made him even more nervous. A sudden frightening thought popped into his head, and he stared up at her wide-eyed.
"Why?" he didn't want to sound afraid, but was hiding it badly. "Did they torture you? Are they going to torture us?"
"No one's torturing anyone," she snapped, but he was not at all assured of her certainty. "Was there a Dr. Khan in the room with you at any point while they were running these tests? About this tall, black hair, glasses."
He frowned but quickly made the connection. "Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about. The guy who always hung out on the side lines, but looked like he was really running the whole show. Gave me the creeps."
"Me too," but she said in a way he guessed he wasn't meant to hear it.
She sat down heavily on the nearest bed, hands gripping the edges. Nightscream was at a loss. He didn't know what to do when one of the people he'd always counted on to have all the answers looked so distraught. I'm just a kid, the thought came to him not for the first time. What in the Inferno am I doing?
Fortunately for him, the door to the infirmary swung open to admit the two S7 humans and, to his everlasting joy, followed by three men who he would have recognized anywhere, new bodies or not. It took him all the dignity he could muster not to run to them and tackle them into one big group hug. As it was, he managed to just stand there and grin.
Next to him, Blackarachnia also rose to her feet. She didn't look so much surprised as relieved to see their teammates. Banachek, however, did seem surprised.
"There you are," he said in Blackarachnia's direction, "I thought you'd still be looking at the artifacts with Dr. Khan."
"I saw enough," she replied coolly. "Now I need a moment with my friends. Alone."
"Fine," the human agreed. "Tell them what you saw, so they'll know we're not lying, but don't take to long. Simmons and I have other things to see to, but we'll be back soon, and I'll expect you all to be ready to discuss matters."
When the humans left, Blackarachnia took two steps forward and silently wrapped her arms around Silverbolt. He wasn't sure exactly what kind of silent communication passed between the two, but he didn't have time to wonder before Rattrap swept him up in a hug as well.
"Hey, kid!" the rodent was beaming. "You're lookin' good for a lab rat." He held him out at arms length for a better look. "And someone's finally shorter than me."
Sad but true, Nightscream thought. His new body had not yet come with a growth spurt.
"Are you both okay?" Cheetor's gaze shifted between him and Blackarachnia. Both nodded. "Good, then you can tell me how humans know about us when Maximals don't even exist yet in this time frame."
"No, but we left plenty of evidence for them to find," Blackarachnia replied, one of her arms still wrapped around Silverbolt's back while her mate held her to him by the waist. "They have a piece of the Golden Disk, fragments of our technology, and stuff they pulled from the Axalon wreckage. I'm not sure how they know about us in detail, but if I had to guess, I'd say Optimus, Megatron, or whoever else kept records, and they got their hands on them. So probably the only one they don't know about is Nightscream."
"Awesome," Cheetor's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Be grateful the humans didn't find this before the end of the Great War or didn't share this with the Autobots," she pointed out. "That would've really messed with our time line."
"So what do they want with us?" Nightscream asked.
"I don't know," she sighed. "Depends on how much they know about the aliens."
"What aliens?" the boy frowned.
"Oh, kid, you're in for one hell of a story," Rattrap quipped.
"Later," Cheetor interrupted. "We've got bigger problems. I don't want to discuss this in front of the humans, but like I told Rattrap and Silverbolt, there's a strange spark here. I want to know what, if anything, they know anything about it, and I'm not going to even listen to anything else until I do."
"There's another spark here? What do you mean by 'strange'?" Blackarachnia repeated. Her hand grasped Silverbolt's shoulder tightly, and through their bond, he felt her fear rise again, though this time it was laced with a hint of something else. Was it... realization?
"Yeah," the golden haired man confirmed. "I don't know how else to explain it."
"There are mutant sparks," Rattrap offered. "Ol' crab legs for one. That Decepticreep Starscream for another. They don't exactly give them out at every local electronics store, but they ain't unheard off."
"Maybe," Cheetor didn't sound convinced. "Neither of those are very comforting perspectives though."
"Now's your chance to ask 'em," Rattrap nodded his head towards the glass slits in the door, and at the now three humans approaching.
All five took a step back as the doors swung open to admit the humans. Simmons remained at the door while Banachek and the man Blackarachnia and Nightscream knew as Dr. Khan stepped forward.
"I hope you've all had a chance to talk," Banachek said. "If you want to see the artifacts for yourselves, I can arrange it."
"Maybe later," Cheetor's demeanor straightened, and everyone who knew him could tell he was in commander mode. "Blackarachnia's told us what she's seen, and we trust her."
"Not hiding behind fake names anymore, are we, 'Miss Stark'?" Simmons quipped from his place near the door. She simply glared at him.
"Fair enough," Banachek agreed. "Whatever will give us a chance to talk openly. I have to be honest, I don't know why you're here, but I'm glad you are. We could use your help."
"In what?" Silverbolt asked.
"In dealing with the aliens."
The team exchanged a look.
"That answers that question," Rattrap commented.
"Why should we do anything?" Cheetor folded his arms across his chest nodding his head to indicate Blackarachnia and Nightscream. "After the welcome wagon you humans rolled out."
"It's kind of your mess to begin with," Simmons noted. "Didn't Primal ever teach you to pick up your toys, kid?"
A mixture of a roar and a hiss that no human could have ever made erupted from Cheetor's throat, and Rattrap and Blackarachnia had to physically grab his arms to hold him back. Simmons didn't look phased.
"Speaking of toys," the rodent interjected, attempting to divert the conversation back to safer ground. "Did you people happen ta see my Pred parts collection in all that stuff you dug up?"
To everyone's surprise it was the doctor who burst out laughing. He took off his rectangular glasses to wipe the corners of his eyes before replacing them.
"None of you have changed at all," he said, still amused.
The room grew silent for a moment as all eyes turned on him. Rattrap's mind raced to understand. The human knew them? How? The obvious answer was that the good doctor wasn't human at all. Doctor... not human... Entirely forgetting Cheetor's warning about an unusual spark, hope surged in him.
"Rhinox?"
The man raised a single brow, then laughed harder. "Rhinox? Wherever did you get that idea from?"
"Dr. Khan came to us a little over year ago," Banachek explained. "At that point we had some evidence of your presence on Earth four million years ago, but we didn't know what they meant, or how to decode the encrypted tracks. His help was invaluable in learning more about the Beast Wars and warning against the aliens' return."
"Tom," the doctor turned to the two humans, "could you give me a moment to get reacquainted. I don't think they understand." When the men were gone, his attention returned to the Maximals, a smirk on his face. "Tedious, aren't they? Humans, that is. Can't say you people are much better. Though, I'm surprised at you, Blackarachnia. I thought I taught you better than that."
At that moment Silverbolt became so accurately aware of his aware of his mate's emotions that they seemed to nearly override any of his own. The first was that her initially minute feeling of understanding suddenly turned to outright denial, followed by slowly growing acceptance. Her emotions were in a state of tremendous turmoil, and when he thought the confusion was over, everything pooled together and blossomed into full grown terror.
"What's wrong with your spark?" Cheetor asked point blank.
The question was mostly to divert attention from his two friends who looked uneasy to say the least, but he also wanted to know what he and his team would be dealing with, and he was tired of riddles. The man frowned and cocked his head to the side, as if he was genuinely surprised by the question, then his earlier smirk returned.
"Why don't you ask your new sister?" he suggested, keen eyes returning to Blackarachnia. "You must have known or, at least, suspected."
The woman swallowed hard and took a shallow breath, her eyes vacant and focused entirely on the floor. Silverbolt's own gray-blue orbs widened in alarm when he felt her flood of emotions disappear entirely, as if he was suddenly on the other side of an enormous dam. All input from her through their bond suddenly flat-lined.
"The reason why his spark looks strange to you," her voice was so quiet that even the people right next to her strained to hear it, "is because he's not Cybertronian. Maximal or Predacon, we all have the same origins. He's not like us. He's the spawn of Unicron."
Everyone started at them in horror, but the man just shrugged.
"A bit long-winded, but correct," he agreed. "I am Tarantulas, descendant of Unicron and emissary of the Vok."
