Part X

Tyl raced after her comrades, barely waiting for Rattrap, Silverbolt, and Cheetor to follow. "Such strange names," she reflected idly. "Then again, what would I expect from such strange creatures?" She turned her head slightly to make sure they were keeping up and almost cried out when she saw not their three guests, but three unfamiliar animals chasing after her. She was about to draw her weapon when the smallest of the creatures suddenly pulled even with her, its wheels kicking up clods of dirt.

"So how far away is this camp o' yours?" the thing asked in Rattrap's voice. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments before she found her voice again. Very strange creatures indeed.

"A―Actually we are probably directly above part of it now. We reside in a series of tunnels beneath the surface of the planet. The rock shields us from the Overlord's scanners and trackers. One of our entrances should be just ahead." Rattrap nodded in satisfaction and craned his neck around to face his comrades, who had evidently just caught up.

"Hey Silverbolt, Cheetor, ya hear that?"

"Yup. Good thing, too—this really hurts," Cheetor replied with a slight hiss. Tyl nodded sympathetically.

"The Bleeders are a favorite weapon of the Elite Force, probably because they cause such painful wounds." Cheetor's ears pricked up at the mention of "bleeders" and an expression not unlike alarm spread across his face.

"Bleeders?" he repeated softly. "Those gun-staff… things are called Bleeders?"

"Yes. They siphon off energy from the very environment and condense it into those plasma-like bolts. In other words, they "bleed" the surroundings for energy."

"Which is why you call them Bleeders," Silverbolt said, his interest piqued despite his lack of trust in their hosts.

"Well, that and the fact that it is much easier to say than Series Four Automatic Siphon/Discharge Weapons." That startled a chuckle out of Rattrap and Tyl grinned broadly. Cheetor smiled as well, but his mind was racing too quickly to really dwell on the joke.

Oh man. Ohmanohmanohman. What's happening? What is happening! I… I knew, I knew what those weapons were called. That's impossible. This whole situation is just impossible! Whoa, whoa, calm down, Cheets. Stay together, stay cool. You can deal with this. You will deal with this.

"We are here." Tyl's voice interrupted his near-panic. Their hosts had stopped and were clustered around a large boulder. Two of the aliens stepped forward and grasped the rock firmly… then heaved it up like a hatch. Tyl touched his shoulder and grinned at him. "The Overlord and Garlach would have fits if they knew how close our base is. Parts of it run almost directly under their own base!" Cheetor returned the grin, albeit a bit weakly, and glanced over at Rattrap and Silverbolt. Judging by the fact that neither of them had suddenly began jumping and screaming at voices in their heads, Tyl hadn't "spoken" to them. Tyl followed his gaze and evidently figured out what he was thinking about. "By the gods, you know they would not be able to hear me." Her "voice" had a mildly chiding tone.

"No, I didn't know. Why not?" he asked quietly, not wanting his teammates to overhear. Tyl seemed puzzled and more than a bit surprised by the question.

"What do you mean, 'why not'? They are not of my kind, and they are not possessed of the Sight. Of course they would not be able to hear me, or any of my people for that matter. Forgive me Cheetor, but that is a rather foolish question."

"Oh, yeah… right. Silly me." Tyl took note of the Maximal's troubled expression and mistakenly took it to be a response to her light scolding. She gave herself a mental kick in the posterior for speaking so harshly.

"My apologies, Cheetor. I did not mean to upset you. I am sure that burn is… distracting to say the least, and after everything that has happened to you and your friends today… how could anyone expect you to remember every nuance of telepathy?!"

"Uh, yeah. Hey, don't worry about it; I think we're all pretty stressed."

"Stressed? My, you certainly use interesting expressions. I have a friend who would be thrilled to meet all of you—he loves to study alien cultures." Cheetor nodded absently as he watched the aliens file down into the dark tunnel beneath the rock/hatch. Rattrap hesitated on the edge and resumed his 'bot form. A few of the aliens stumbled back in surprise, but seemed more fascinated than frightened. Silverbolt and Cheetor followed his example. With a shrug, Rattrap slipped into the dark tunnel, and Cheetor heard a dull thud as he landed—apparently, there was a slight drop to the ground. Silverbolt was next, followed by Tyl, and then it was his turn. For a moment, he was seized by an irrational apprehension; given the turn his thoughts kept taking, he wasn't sure he wanted to see more shadows right now.

"What's the matter, Pussycat? Afraid of the dark?" Rattrap's laughter-tinged voice floated up from the gloom.

Yes, Rattrap. I am, he thought silently, before dropping into the cool embrace of the darkness. The tunnel was constructed entirely of hard rock, and was lit very dimly by what appeared to be some kind of luminescent moss growing on its walls. Tyl was waiting for him just below that hatchway, her fiery eyes glowing even brighter in the dimness, and he could just barely make out Rattrap and Silverbolt a bit further down the corridor. For the time being he ignored Tyl, still more than a little disturbed by the turn their conversation had taken a few moments ago.

What would I know about telepathy? I didn't even know it really existed until I met the Guardian! She seemed to think I ought to be some kind of expert! And why can I hear these guys when Rattrap and Silverbolt can't? I mean, I talk to the Guardian, but that's all Its doing… it can't have anything to do with me. It can't… And that word… again that word. What the slag is 'Sight'? For a moment, he wondered if he had been right to trust Tyl and Aaylor. They seemed nice enough, but what if Rattrap and Silverbolt were right? What if he had simply led his friends into another trap? He was playing with their lives based only on a feeling for crying out loud! But as soon as the thought occurred to him, it was banished by the same overwhelming feeling that had caused him to lunge at Rattrap and prevent him from firing upon Tyl. She could be trusted, her friends could be trusted—none of them meant him or his comrades any harm. Boy, did I ever buy a one way ticket to wacky-land, he reflected, a small not-smile stretching his mouth. All right, fine. He'd play along with whatever Tyl said for the time being, pretend he knew exactly what she was talking about. It'd be… safer that way. And who knew? Maybe if he listened to her long enough, he'd be able to piece together exactly what was going on. Hopefully.

Valdin listened intently as Megatron briefed several of his troops on the defensive capabilities of the "Maximals". These "Predacons" had proven to be useful—instantly providing information that might otherwise have taken his troops days to gain. While he had no doubt that they could simply overwhelm the Maximals with their numbers, there would certainly be casualties, and he had no particular desire to see any more of his troops injured or destroyed than was necessary. Still, as useful as the Predacons were, Valdin sensed that they were leaving out as much as they were telling. Not that he blamed them. Megatron seemed a shrewd and intelligent being, and he surely knew the dangers of outliving his usefulness. It was exactly the sort of thing Valdin himself would have done had the situations been reversed.

It was still quite annoying, though.

Valdin realized with a start that Megatron had stopped speaking, and his troops were staring expectantly at him. He quickly replayed Megatron's words in his head, recalling every detail perfectly despite the fact that he hadn't really been paying attention. It was a useful skill.

"I believe this Sentinel will be the biggest threat," he said at length, speaking out loud for the Predacons' benefit. "We should be able to break through the shield, but there is no telling how long it will take. Are there any other opinions?"

"Commander, what of the other Maximals? They were skilled warriors, and we have no idea how many of them there are, or what they are capable of." Valdin nodded at the question, and made a mental note to keep an eye on the young warrior who had asked it; such foresight was an excellent quality. He glanced up at Megatron and indicated that the Predacon should answer.

"Actually, we are quite familiar with the ranks of the Maximals, as well as their fighting skills. However, you have indicated that you have already disposed of one or more of them. If you could tell us who?" Valdin was hesitant to give away such information. He had had much experience with beings such as Megatron, and he knew from that experience that it was best not to reveal all your information to them. Still…

"Three of them were transported to our home base via the Gate."

"Really? And would you describe the, ahem, unfortunate victims?" There was an odd light in Megatron's eyes, one Valdin did not like at all. But he was a soldier above all else, and he could not allow personal suspicions to stand in the way of a possible advantage. He described the three Maximals in as much detail as he could and watched as Megatron's expression settled into a confusing mix of pleased disappointment. "Hmm, I had rather hoped Primal had been among them, but I suppose it will be more satisfying to destroy him myself, yes. So, we are short a white knight, an annoying vermin, and an adolescent feline? Bah, they are of little consequence on their best days. That leaves only three Maximals at the Axalon, but they are the three most threatening."

"Of little consequence? I would not want to go up against a Seer on his worst day!" one of the younger warriors whispered to the one next to him.

"Silence! Do not speak of that matter again!" Valdin ordered sharply as he noticed Megatron paying close attention to the whispered conversation. His expression betrayed a confusion that suggested he had no idea what the young one had meant, but knew it was important. Could it be that the Predacons did not know of the Seer? One would think that such a powerful adversary would be of much interest. But the Maximals themselves hadn't seemed to know of their comrade's talents. Strange, that the Seer would hide what he was in a situation where his Gift would obviously be a tremendous advantage. Very strange, indeed.

Valdin listened as Megatron described each of the three remaining Maximal warriors and their abilities, taking in every detail. Very soon, the information would be put to use as they attacked and crushed their opponents.

Rattrap had seen many things in his life: some amazing, some mediocre, and some he'd rather forget. What he saw before him, however, quite literally left him redefining the phrase "awe-inspiring". After nearly an hour of following the twisting path of the dim tunnel, the space began to lighten, and a breath of fresh air drifted in. Abruptly, the tunnel ended, and opened up into an almost impossibly immense cavern. It was easy to see why Aaylor and his followers had chosen this place as their base. Rattrap couldn't even see the top of the cavern, and the floor was at least twenty meters below them. The walls were riddled with entrances to tunnels similar to the one he was now standing in, and the cavern seemed entirely lit by more of the glowing moss.

"Ultra gear," Cheetor whispered from behind him. One of these days, he really was going to have to ask the kid just where he had picked up such an inane phrase. Now, however, he had more pressing things think about. Such as…

"Um, I really hope you don't expect us ta jump down there," he said, searching in vain for some kind of elevator or lift.

"Gods no, friend Rattrap," Aaylor said, chuckling a bit. The imposing alien shouldered past a few of his troops and stepped up to the edge of the tunnel, then leaned out and firmly grasped a handful of the moss. Upon closer inspection, Rattrap could see that the stuff had been cut away from the wall of the cavern and braided into a thick rope. As a matter of fact, he could make out several such ropes trailing down the walls around him, each near the tunnel entrances. Aaylor swung out onto the moss covered wall beside the tunnel and began rappelling down to the floor with practiced ease.

"Cool," Cheetor remarked.

"I hope this growth will be able to support our weight," Silverbolt said worriedly. "We may grab hold of it and find it ripping right off. Which would mean a very fast trip to a very hard landing."

"Hmm, you're right. Cheetor, you go first." Rattrap had meant the words to be a joke, and he turned to ask Tyl just how strong the moss really was. But as soon as Aaylor had reached the floor of the cavern, Cheetor quickly leaned out and gripped the rope the alien had used. Rather than carefully rappelling down the way Aaylor had, though, he simply got a loose grip on the stuff and proceeded to slide down, picking up a frightening amount of speed in a very short time.

"Yeee-ha!" he shouted in exhilaration, slowing his descent only at the last possible second. He dropped to the ground lightly after reaching the end of the moss rope and waved up at Rattrap and Silverbolt. "C'mon, it's great!"

"Oh for the love of— I tell ya, that kid is the worst adrenaline junkie I've ever met," Rattrap grumbled good-naturedly. "Well… after you, Rover."

Some time later, Rattrap flopped down on a handy seat and wished that this would all turn out to be a very bad dream. Oh, Aaylor and his band were nice enough, and they had for the most part put to rest any lingering doubts he and Silverbolt had harbored about their trustworthiness, but he still wanted to get back to the Axalon. Silverbolt sat down beside him a moment later and it was obvious that similar thoughts were playing out in his mind.

"Quite an impressive set up these guys've got goin'," Rattrap said, hoping to strike up a conversation. The silence was starting to get to him.

"Impressive is something of an understatement," Silverbolt replied, and Rattrap had to agree with him. What had first appeared to be simply a very large war-camp had turned out to be a miniature city in actuality. Aaylor had proudly told them that at any given time there were about three hundred Tenari, which was what the aliens called themselves, living and working in the cavern. The place had its own hydroelectric power planet, set up on an underground river, numerous schools, medical facilities, and living quarters. The inhabitants were mostly rebels, like Aaylor and Tyl, but there were also many families who were simply fleeing the tyranny of someone called "the Overlord." Rattrap wasn't exactly sure what the situation was on this strange planet, but he was determined to find out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. In the meantime, he contented himself with watching a group of children (at least, he assumed they were children, since they were much smaller than all of the other Tenari he had seen thus far) play a game that seemed to involve several floating balls and a series of goal posts while he waited for Aaylor to return with someone who could hopefully tell them how they could get back to where they came from.

"Aaylor said Cheetor should be fully repaired within 30 "marks," whatever that means. I believe 'marks' are a unit of time similar to our 'cycles'." Silverbolt murmured at length, flexing his own newly repaired wing.

"That soon? Those goons really messed 'im up; I thought he'd be down longer than that."

"Apparently it was only a surface wound; enough to incapacitate, but not to kill, thank the Matrix."

"Yeah," Rattrap said absently. Something about the earlier attack had been bothering him ever since Aaylor and his troop had appeared. Rattrap was, arguably, quite experienced in many things, including the ways of fighting, with instincts and skills honed to a sharp edge by the years. And now, that experience was setting alarm bells off in his head. He replayed the aliens' strategy in his mind, growing horror and realization dawning on him. One thing they had learned from Tyl on the way to the "city" was that they had been attacked by the Overlord's Elite Force—the very best, the cream of the crop as far as enemy soldiers went. Cheetor had fought three members of said Elite Force, had been shot by the Captain of the task force at almost point blank range, and all he had sustained was a surface wound? He had been lucky.

Incredibly lucky.

Too lucky.

"Oh man," Rattrap breathed.

Rattrap and Silverbolt had been reluctant to split up, but, in the end, they had allowed Aaylor to guide Silverbolt to one of the medics while Tyl took Cheetor down to one of the more extensive repair bays, as the burn on his back was much worse than Silverbolt's midly singed wing. Rattrap had muttered something about "finding some answers" and stalked off after Aaylor and Silverbolt, tossing a quick, "Try not to get lost, Kiddo" over his shoulder.

Tyl led him down yet another dimly lit tunnel on the ground floor of the cavern-city to one of the most advanced repair facilities Cheetor had ever laid eyes on. Some of the equipment was fairly similar to what he had seen in the Axalon, but most of it was totally beyond his comprehension. A Tenari was bent over one of the more confusing pieces of equipment, but quickly straightened when he and Tyl entered.

"Tyl! You made it back safely! And what the tra'ach is that?" the being asked as soon as he laid eyes on Cheetor.

"That, is Cheetor. He and his companions will be staying with us for a while. Cheetor, this is―"

"My name is Korinai. My friends call me Korin, everyone else calls me something I won't repeat in polite company." Korin said matter-of-factly. Cheetor laughed a little and decided he could get to like this creature. "So you are the―"

"Korin, for the gods' sakes, he has a Bleeder burn! Talk later," Tyl scolded mildly, guiding Cheetor over to a flat surface and indicating he should sit down.

"Bleeder burned, huh? Ouch. Hurts like the nine hells, does it not? Ah well, let me see what I can do. So, how is it that you came to be here?"

"I must warn you, Cheetor. Once you start him talking, it is almost impossible to get him to stop!" Tyl sighed, shooting her friend a mock glare. "I am going to get out of this battle gear. I will be back in five marks or so. Korin, try not to talk him to death."

"Whatever you say, milady. So, Cheetor, you were about to tell me how you got here?" Tyl shook her head slightly and headed for a small doorway at the back of the repair bay.

"My liege, I―"

"If this is not good news, Garlach, be prepared to suffer the consequences," the Overlord interrupted darkly, glaring at his Captain. Garlach met his gaze steadily and actually smiled.

"Oh, it most assuredly is, my lord. Excellent news."

"What is it, then?"

"We were able to intercept another of those pathetic groups of refugees, fleeing to Aaylor's encampment," Garlach "spoke" proudly. The Overlord was unimpressed.

"And? We have intercepted many such groups over the past few months – that is hardly worth my attention."

"And if I told you we also managed to capture the rebel who was supposed to lead them to Aaylor's base?" The Overlord sat straight up and stared at the Captain.

"Do you mean to tell me―"

"Indeed, I do. We now have the means to attack Aaylor and his band in their own base."

"And where is the prisoner now?"

"Awaiting interrogation, my liege. No matter how strong he is, we will have the location of Aaylor's base within a day. And then…"

"Let the slaughter begin."