Author's Note: Want a bit more of what kinda crap runs rampant in my AU? Yeah. Read on.
And before this chapter starts, another clarification: I am an author. Just because I write something doesn't mean that I believe it with all my heart. I'm telling a story. Just because I have a character say something doesn't mean that it's accurate. My apologies to those who may have been offended by something Sam said in the prior chapter. This is an Alternate Universe. It is not our universe. Their history is not our own.
You have your rights to be offended, to not agree with opinions stated in this story, and to not like the story at all. I write because I love to write, and I'm writing on these subjects because I'm enjoying the process. If you like/love this story, then cool. I'm glad! Otherwise, I'm just doing what I want to do. I'm not putting this up here to please anyone. And if you're offended at this Author's Note, that's your prerogative, too.
Also, if you can't be civil in anonymous reviews, I will turn that function off. It is on primarily for non-FFnet member friends of mine IRL to comment if they have the time to do so.
.o.
Megatron loved the heat that rose from the Serengeti. He loved the smooth way his systems moved when they weren't chilled. All his time in the ice had caused damage to most of his hydraulics and to some of the neural paths in his limbs, but those were systems that would need localized overhauls to repair. Ratchet just hadn't had the time to work on those problems when Megatron had been in North America. And while he could, and did, work around his problems, he still didn't like the cold, which blanketed the Northern Hemisphere of this blasted globe in February. He settled himself on several cargo boxes that had been brought down from the Ark's wreckage, watching the strange Earth creatures that roamed the grasses.
Several months had passed since he had spoken with the Autobots, and still no help had arrived. Every so often, however, there was an anonymous ping from someone, a courtesy stating that someone was either entering or exiting his area. Because he didn't know who or what their direction was, he continued to act the same, regardless of their presence or not.
Starscream fell out of the sky with gracefully elaborate movements, landing in a crouched bow. "My Lord. There is word from Barricade at last."
"Oh?" Of course there was finally word from Barricade. He had received a transmission several days ago that he was fit for duty again, after a long and well-deserved time of rest and healing from his ordeal. It had relieved Megatron that the once-mechling he had mentored didn't hold his time of convalescence against his leader.
"He has been tracking Bumblebee across the Northeast United States."
Scooping up a shrilly wailing hatchling, Megatron soothed the creature with expert touches. Perhaps he would give this feline to Soundwave to replace Ravage. It was not similar to the other feline symbiont that had been deactivated in Egypt, and because of that, it could not be considered a true replacement. "Considering that those were my orders for him in the first place, I don't see why this merits a report from you."
"I have a concern to voice, my liege."
"Very well."
Starscream wrung his hands, straightening and loosening the joints of his wrists with the nervous gesture. "I fear that he may not be as loyal as you once was."
Well, this was interesting. Megatron knew that Barricade's loyalty to the Lord Protector was unquestionable. His loyalty to the Decepticon cause, however, had been under question since Mission City. He knew, for a fact, that Barricade and Bumblebee were exploring their first tentative steps back into a relationship. That relationship, ultimately, may be what they could begin to build their civilization upon once the war was over.
"Well, pray tell what gives you that notion. Certainly, anyone with your unfailing loyalty would see the lack of it in others."
Wincing at the clear notes of distain, Starscream crouched lower. "I mean—it is to say—I have seen him with the Autobot Scout."
"Oh, really? What were they doing, sniffing some colorfully-flowering weed together? Skipping through the forests hand-in-hand?"
"They were fighting, only . . . it was as if it were a light sparring session. They would back away, discuss something or another, mime a move, and then go back into the fight."
Well, that was troublesome, and clearly something that neither expected to be spied upon for. Megatron huffed a long sigh. "I will have words with him when I decide to return to that wretched continent."
"But, my Master—"
"Do you not remember Barricade's past with the Scout? They grew up together. They trained together. I trained them together. Let them spar. Barricade will learn something from the scout."
"They interfaced afterwards!"
"Oh, so he did learn something from the Scout! Good."
"The Scout initiated it! He was the aggressor!"
"Hn, so it was the opposite, then?" Now Megatron was just baiting Starscream. Primus, he enjoyed this. "Well, good for him. Do you have anything of importance to report?"
"My Lord, if I may, Barricade can become a security problem with his attachment to Bumblebee." The Arial Commander was in a true hissy fit at this point, agitated and frustrated. "He could be compromised! With the right coding, he could be offlined!"
Good Primus, that mech just didn't know when to shut up. "Have you never had an interface, Starscream? Well, in case you haven't, allow me to explain that there are involuntary protocols in place to prevent such an occurrence for a casual interface. Interfacing between Sparkbonded, however, is a completely different topic altogether."
"I am no virgin!" the Seeker spluttered angrily.
"Clearly, since you have interfaced with half of my officers, as well as various other mechs of questionable origin, both with and without your trine."
Spluttering, the flier finally was out of words. Megatron surged forward, pinning his Second-in-Command under him, his free hand curling around his neck. "You forget, Starscream, that I have been in your mind as well. Let Barricade try to woo Bumblebee, or vice versa. The attachment may one day prove to end one of their Sparks. The weaker shall perish." He straightened and released his minion. "Return to the Nemesis."
"But, my liege—"
"I want a full inventory taken. And while you're up there, make sure that you either interface or have someone overload you. Your spying on others during the act is disgusting and just makes it more noticeable that you've been having a lack of partners. Get out of my sight."
Snarling a "yes, my Lord," Starscream backed away and took off with a hiss and the whine of powerful turbines. Megatron watched the contrail angle sharply upwards before looking down at the feline asleep in his arms. He stroked one long finger down its back before walking back to the other hatchlings, kicking aside the babysitter drone and growling at it to go into shutdown mode. It did, and he settled himself down, basking in the harsh sunlight for a light doze, keeping his sensors up and running.
Rustle.
Movement?
He lifted his head and looked at one of the plains animals with its thick hide and steady gaze.
Unusual.
Whatever.
He rested his head back down against the tree, the feline draped over his chest. If the local fauna decided to try to get friendly, he would have something for the hatchlings to play with later on.
"Well, well, well."
Wait. What?
"I never assumed that the mighty Lord Protector would let his guard down like this."
His head snapped upright and he stared in shock. His thoughts were precisely the following:
What-the-frag-talking-rhino-who-the-slag?
The creature . . . transformed. Nanobots and nanites that made up skin and hair receded into their reservoirs under plate armor in streaming rivulets. The armor split and reconfigured itself to show a face that Megatron had never expected to see again, then angled downwards artistically to provide ample coverage for a stocky nine-foot-frame. Green, brown and gold lined his frame's features, and deceptive red optics graced his broad-featured face.
Walking over and resting hands upon hips, the former scientist quirked a good-natured optic ridge upwards and then crouched down to keep his gaze below Megatron's. "It's been many years since we've last met."
"Spinox. You still live?"
"It's Rhinox, now. Been on this planet since before Sentinel and Terratron went missing, some seven thousand years ago. I suppose you could classify my team as part of the Seekers, for all the work and research we've been doing here."
"But . . . how?"
"Solar-to-Energon converter works well for making Energon."
Shaking his head, Megatron waved that aside. "No. How are you here?"
Rhinox chuckled and shook his head before reaching over and gently examining the feline hatchling, stroking facial features and testing sleeping reflexes. "I've been with a science team, and our commander was contacted by a certain femme to send me to check on your status."
"But . . . you . . ."
"Yes, yes, I know. I shouldn't be here."
"You're smaller. Your optics aren't the same color as before. Why did you adopt the red optics of Kaon?"
The scientist-turned-warrior blinked slowly, optics irising slightly wider in shock before he whispered, "Have you lost any memories, Megatron?"
"No."
Rhinox indicated the damage to the side of Megatron's head. "What damage remains?"
"I only retain sixty-two percent of my immediate processor. Memory banks are completely intact."
"That's better than what I had to deal with for another repair a couple centuries ago. By the by, if you start seeing strange animals or strange behavior patterns from any animals, don't draw attention to them. The scouts usually will keep themselves hidden, but will signal that they're watching by revealing themselves to you." Pulling out a kit, he began a general scan over the warlord's frame, noting the ill repair it remained in.
"I'm surrounded, aren't I?"
"Yep. They don't trust you with me, and for good reason."
"Wonderful." He rested back and rubbed at his face again, sighing.
"Sure is. Mind you, they like the hatchlings, and tell me that they will continue to watch the hatchlings if you are off the continent again. One almost was trampled by an elephant herd. It took some creative dissuasion to get the little one back here safe without the Babysitter seeing us or noticing."
"Fragged drone. Thank you."
"Of course. Oh, and one word of caution? We have a kid on the team. Still in his Youngling frame-set and maturity. If he slags you off, just let me know, and we'll take care of it when he returns." Standing, Rhinox turned to leave.
"Wait!"
Pausing, looking back over his shoulder, the small-but-bulky mech asked, "Yes?"
"What are you doing performing the medic's duty? You only have scientific training."
"I may be Wheeljack's son and protégé, but Ratchet forwarded me a lot of texts when I notified Cybertron and the Autobots of our crashed status during the War. We lost one of Ratchet's dual protégé-and-fosterlings in that wreck. I have had many years to adjust my skills to being my team's medic." Rhinox shook his head sadly. "There is much to be said and done, and I have to get some tools before I can work on your frame. I will be back in forty-six hours." He turned and transformed, the metal of his armor soon covered by thick skin and bristly hair. Shaking his head to settle himself, Rhinox trotted away.
Megatron had to catalogue that experience as one of the most unexpected moments of his life.
The hatchling chirped and then opened her little maw to howl for food.
Great.
.o.
"Rhinox, report."
"He'll behave. I told you I was the best one to approach him. He and I worked closely before the War."
"She wants an update as soon as you have it."
"Primus, but your auntie jus' don' like bein' left outta th' loop f'r long, does she."
"Can your Polyhex accent prove any more annoying?"
"Dis 's called Brooklyn, ya fragged idiot. An' it's an art."
"Good Primus, will you both be quiet? I have a report to make!"
"This is getting out of hand. . ."
"No slag. I'm still torqued off that we adopted a Pred."
Rhinox facepalmed and ignored the snarl of a pissed-off former 'Con as he prepared to chase his old friend around the base. Again. Turning back to his commander, he sighed. "Primal, I'm going to talk with Optimus and Elita on the long-range com. This may take a while. They're not going to like what I have to tell them."
"Which is?" Orion's nephew asked with a grin as he let his high-strung warriors chase off some of their energy. He'd end the fight personally when he felt that it had gone on long enough. Three thousand years of cohabitation had given those two a firm friendship bordering on a brotherhood, and they sure as slag fought like brothers, too.
"Well, Ratchet hasn't been telling them all of Megatron's medical problems."
"I don't envy you this conversation in the least."
"Nope. Me neither. Kid! Aft away from the coms for a while!"
"Aw, Big Green! But there's a huge Disturbed concert going on in Houston right now!"
"You want huge? Go play with the Autobots in America. I'm sure they'd love to have a bitty kitty scout to help them keep an eye on some Decepticons."
Skittering away, the Youngling stared in shock at Primal. "He . . . he wouldn't really . . . would
he?"
"Well," Ultra Magnus' son said with a grin, "he just might. He does have the Prime's audio on a few things. I'd be on your best behavior for a while if I were you. You never know what Pretenders they'd have you flushing out. But you'd have to trans-scan something a bit more common to their environment, otherwise you'll stick out like a turbo-fox in a field of excited Sparklings."
"Seriously, you sound just like Optimus."
"Why do you think that people calling me by his name stuck?" the mech asked, standing and walking out of the command center. "Go take a sweep around the new territory! I want to know what kind of terrain we'll have to be watching over, and if there's any energon deposits that we can mine or likely places to set up some solar converters." He disappeared down a hallway and around a corner.
Rhinox held one hand up, pausing the kid from leaving the center, then indicated with his fingers three-two-one . . .
Two loud clangs, a surprised curse, and the sound of a violent scuffle echoed throughout the underground base. Smirking, the former Honor Guard member chuckled and shook his head. "Younglings. Primus save me from those two. G'wan, get on your patrol, Cheetor, before Primal makes good on his promise to have your aft reassigned. Pit, you'd get eaten for breakfast by most of the human NEST members, never mind our larger pack." He turned back to the coms and settling himself down. :Autobot Command, this is Axalon-Zero-Three.:
:Good afternoon, Axalon-Zero-Three. Good to hear your voice.:
:Patch in Femme-One, please, as this pertains to her as well.:
:Acknowledged.:
Elita's voice filled the com-channel with warmth and affection. :Femme-One patched; hello, old friend. Simple fixes from your field excursion, I assume?:
:You two will want to speak with your medic; the full damage of the subject is far greater than the files that mech forwarded to me, and will take several years before they're complete with my current level of supplies and his availability.:
Silence.
He tapped a finger against his thigh, waiting for the storm.
His Creator-Caretaker's voice cheerily entered the com-channel. :Well! Those two hurried off in a rush to speak to my mate . . . should I be worried?:
:Possibly. There was some miscommunication involved.:
:Oh. Wonderful. I take it that the project is larger than assumed?:
:Pretty much makes your condition after that explosion at the Nurite-Five mine experiments look like a petty re-wiring problem.:
:Frag. Okay. Did you need my assistance?:
:No, Caretaker. I won't put you in harm's way. Ratchet would have my hide. Literally!:
The chuckle of his amused parent filtered through the com-link, and Rhinox smiled. How many times had he been able to bring a smile to the mech whose mirth had been dimmed by the war? He brushed over their usually-dormant parent-child bond with firm love and affirmation. :He's still mad at me, isn't he?:
:Well, in that you were one of the minds who helped create the holoform-and-nanite-replication, and you were the first to fully implement what you call a 'beast mode,' revolutionizing the way that we look at disguising ourselves . . . He's still mad that you were the one who could best reformat into this system. I shouldn't tie up this com for too much longer, anyway. They're trying to contact the Zantium for a landing window.:
:The . . . the Zantium? With my little brother on board?:
:Que is indeed on board. Eccentric though he is, he truly enjoys being with the Wreckers. They protect him, he gives them nifty gadgets that we all know aren't always as stable as my own, but he's still learning. Grouchy bastards don't seem to mind his blunders.:
:He walked right in your footsteps, you know.:
:Mm. I have a bit of an intellectual problem that you may be of use with. When I see you next, I'll give you all the files I have pertaining to the matter. You'll find it quite interesting, I'm sure. But! I'm off to placate my mate and my Prime; I hear some bellowing happening and panicked humans. Poor little fleshlings don't realize that they're Sparkling-size, and we would never step on one of our dear little Sparks.:
:Of course, Caretaker, of course! Go, save the unfortunates. Let me know when supplies are ready, or you're about to make a visit to inspire me. I'm a bit bound to this land for a while, as I'm sure you understand.:
The com went silent and Rhinox stood, wading fearlessly into the still-brawling trio, guiding the problem into a larger room. He ended up tumbling Primal into the closet, who laughed as he untangled himself from the coils of spare plumbing tube. Rattrap was tossed effortlessly into a rafter, and his curses filtered down until it was just the former Predacon facing him.
Feral grins matched one another and they threw themselves into a brawl. Rhinox used all the knowledge of his moves in Metallikato, which were countered by a mix of Diffusion and Pit Fighting. He wished that Terratron were not lost to the stars, that war was not distracting Prowl from teaching the martial arts of their world to young and eager Sparks.
Dinobot was a true natural, and his Spark, after thousands of years of being around the Maximals, had softened into showing his true worth and sense of honor.
.o.
Author's Note: If you experience the desire to do any fanart of this (or any!) chapter or situation, PLEASE DO! (All you Faust and Terratron fans, I'm looking at you guys! I have a basic idea of Faust's helm and his general construction, though . . .)
Also, if you're interested in writing up companion fics to this, lemme know what you have in mind! I'm curious to see what your muses are demanding! My only request is to beta-read it before you put it up, and then letting me know where it's up so that I can point other readers towards your work.
And yes, I've been planning the reintroduction of Spinox/Rhinox since Chapter 14, and he has always been in connection with the Maximals. Yes, almost 40 chapter later, I got back to him. I feel kinda bad about that, actually. This is my finally finding the loophole that would start to bring things together. I don't know how much of the Maximal crew we'll be seeing in future chapters, but writing how I feel their beast modes would work in Bayverse definitely made me grin.
Song is: "Ghosts" by Dirty Vegas. The chill feel of the song and the phrase "All I ever wanted was a chance to catch my breath" seems to fit, as well as: "Ask me tomorrow what I thought of yesterday / there are so many things that I could not explain."
