The Return of the Thylacine
Disclaimer: Transformers are the copyright of Hasbro and Takara. This work of fiction is written solely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for profit.
Author's Note(s): This story is dedicated in memory of Benjamin, the last known living thylacine who died on September 7th, 1936 at the Beaumaris Zoo in Hobart, Tasmania.
This story follows Season 2 of the G1 Transformers, but should also be considered AU for several reasons:
1: The setting is modern day instead of the 1980s. Some liberties have been taken.
2: Some concepts from later renditions such as the All Spark and Primus will be acknowledged.
3: The elements and subject matter of the story will deal with mature themes that would not be found in a series targeted at children.
Chapter 1: We Interrupt This Program
Several autobots were gathered around the new video system Wheeljack had implemented. It tied in with many broadcast signals from around the world, including the World Wide Web. Its main purpose was to help keep tabs on the latest news and the Decepticons, but other times the autobots took advantage of it for their entertainment. This was one of those occasions. They were engrossed in their favorite soap opera, "The Kitchen Sinks".
Grapple felt his circuits tingle as the camera zoomed in on Gordon lying in a coma while Donna and Cheryl argued over whose affections the invalid man loved best.
"Oh brother!" Powerglide barked, "How can you all watch this shit?"
"Ssshhh," Beachcomber responded, with a finger pressed to his metallic lips. "We want to see how this pans out," he added with his quiet, mellow manner.
The jet shrugged and walked away. He decided he had enough and went to find Optimus Prime to see if he would be needed for patrol duty. He paused at the infirmary. Ratchet, who was also present, could be heard trying to reason with someone. Powerglide strained his audio sensors to hear. He realized it was Tracks in confrontation with another autobot. The smug corvette was being uncharacteristically hostile. He was cursing out an equally angry Sunstreaker. A curious Powerglide barely put one foot inside the door when he felt himself being violently shoved aside by Tracks who converted into his alt-mode, facing off Sunstreaker in his. Both had physical damage to their glittering finishes. It wasn't so strange for Sunstreaker to be temperamental, but for Tracks to be so openly was. Both sports cars' engines screamed at one another, daring the other to take the first move. Tracks' tires squealed, but before he could charge, a heavy weight clamped down on his bumper.
"What the hell is your problem?" an exasperated Powerglide snarled. His words dripped venom. An engine revved as Tracks switched in reverse, prepared to back into the other autobot, only to be halted by an even heavier mass.
It was Optimus Prime. He put himself between Tracks and Sunstreaker to break up the fight. He was perturbed by the Tracks' recent behavior, yet also filled with sympathy and compassion for the younger autobot. As much as he focused on leadership, he also regarded each of his comrades as family. The recent increase in conflict gave him more anxiety than Megatron. The burden weighed heavily on his spark.
"Enough all of you!" the autobot leader commanded sternly. "Sunstreaker, have Ratchet finish patching you up and go cool off somewhere. Powerglide, I want you to go on patrol for Decepticon activity. Tracks, come with me."
Prime outside the Ark with Tracks, who said nothing and remained in alt-mode. He looked terrible for one who prided himself on his sleek appearance. His hood was scratched and dinged from the confrontation with Sunstreak. Optimus converted into his Freightliner cabover alt-mode and drove beside Tracks. He led them a little ways to a dirt road out in the middle of nowhere that took them through woodlands that eventually opened up to a cliff with a panoramic view of the forest and mountains. Converting out of alt-mode, Optimus prime sat down cross-legged with his optics gazing out at the evening sky. The first stars were coming out like faint diamonds who's sparkle increased with the darkening of the twilight.
"Tracks, transform and join me," said Optimus, "I'm not asking, I'm telling you. Do you understand?"
The dark blue corvette obeyed and sat down beside the autobot leader, who dwarfed him by several feet. His head was bowed and a small glint appeared in his optics. This was the closest equivalent a cybertronian could come to crying like a human. He turned his head slightly as he felt a kind arm of Optimus across his back.
"I come here to think or when something is bothering me," the autobot leader began, "I'm not angry, but I am worried about you. I don't know what I would have done if you or Sunstreaker had seriously injured yourselves."
"I confess my behavior has been rather appalling," Tracks admitted sheepishly.
The optics of Prime focused tenderly on the other autobot. He didn't expect Tracks to open up about what happened, but he wanted him to know that he was there for him.
Tracks had a few more glints in his optics. He remained silent. In truth, Tracks was starting to feel weak. He was getting low on power. He hadn't been to the recharging chamber for days and the fight with Sunstreaker depleted most of his reserves. Track's fists clenched tight as the realization brought on memories of being in a similar situation and a young New Yorker trying to protect him by leading Rumble and Ravage away from his location. Screams of anger and grief evoked from the corvette as he punched the ground, creating a small fissure in the earth. He punched the ground over and over until Optimus Prime intervened.
"Tracks!" a soft, baritone voice called out to him. Optimus gently used his strength to gain control of him. He felt Tracks swooning and it became apparent how critical the situation was. He could carry Tracks if necessary, but haste was needed. He laid Tracks on the ground and stepped back to give himself enough space to revert to alt-mode. As soon as his trailer appeared, Optimus Prime carefully angled himself and commanded Roller to push Tracks inside. Once the unconscious corvette was secured, Optimus sped off at top speed back to the Ark. He radioed both Ratchet and Wheeljack to stand by to assist as soon as they arrived. The autobot leader insisted that he carry Tracks himself. He felt like a protective father over his fellow autobots. A good leader had to be strong enough to be gentle. Wheeljack helped with securing Tracks into the chamber bed. Ratchet supplied an emergency infusion of energon to help give Tracks an extra boost while he rested.
"He's never let himself go this bad before," Ratchet lamented.
"Grief is a terrible burden to carry for us as it is in humans," replied Optimus, as he left with the others. "All we can do is try our best to be supportive of Tracks until he's in a better place. All of you know how attached he has become to Raoul. What happened several days ago reminded me how some humans are just as bad, if not worse than the Decepticons."
"If you ask me, most humans are assholes," Sunstreaker hissed. He had just returned from a long drive. His head was much clearer, but he was still salty at Tracks for screwing up his paint job. He was even more pissed about the fact Sparkplug was out of town and wouldn't be able to get a touch up or fresh coat of wax.
Optimus narrows his optics at the Lamborghini. "Sunstreaker," he said firmly, "You know better than that. We can't excuse the evil humans do, but we also shouldn't label all of them as bad."
Sunstreaker just shrugged.
"Come along," Optimus commanded, "I want to check in with Powerglide on the monitor system." The others followed him to the command center. Beachcomber and Grapple were still there engaged in watching television. The soap opera ended hours ago. The two autobots were engaged in a press conference about a successful cloning program involving a long-extinct animal.
"Oh my, bubbubbedoo, what a beautiful creature!" Beachcomber exclaimed. He was fond of animals and nature. Geology was his forte, but nature was his soul.
Sunstreaker just shook his head. "It looks like some weird striped dog to me."
Beachcomber laughed. "It's called a thylacine. They are actually marsupials that resemble canids due to convergent evolution. They've been extinct for eighty-six years."
"Intriguing," commented Optimus while scratching his faceplate. "So, they've been revived with the advances of modern Earth technology?"
"Cloning can be useful in the right hands…" Grapple had started to say, but his words trailed off as his attention was drawn to a businessman biw camera discussing their plans for the thylacines. All he would disclose was top investors had special plans for the thylacines and assured the welfare of these valuable creatures was their top priority. He also caught a glimpse of a reporter asking something about the possibility of reintroducing them to the wild when the reception frequency was changed.
"Sorry, Grapple, but I need to check in with Powerglide. " Oprimus apologized. He scanned around until he made contact with the autobot. "Powerglide, this is Optimus Prime, do you copy?"
"Copy, Prime. I've been scanning the skies for hours and there's no sign of any Decepticons, but there's some protesting going on at the Thayer Research Institute."
"Nevermind that. Head on back."
"On my way, Prime. I can't wait to kick back and cool my jets."
Optimis laughed. "I think we could use a good night's rest."
"I hear ya," Powerglide concurred while changing course. "By the way, how's Tracks doing?"
"Not very well. He's sleeping in the recharging chambers as we speak."
"That idiot. I'm going to give him a swift kick up the tailpipe."
"Easy, Powerglide," Prime cautioned.
The jet locked onto the Ark ahead and prepared for landing. "You know I'm just kidding. I'm just about there so I'll see you in a few minutes."
Prime nodded. "Fair enough. See you soon."
Sunstreaker stretched his aching sockets. "I don't know how I can show myself out in public looking like I've been in a demolition derby. I feel like taking out my frustrations on some Decepticons."
Beachcomber thought for a moment. While the others were checking in with Powerglide, he connected himself to the Internet to gather more information on the thylacines and the Thayer Research Institute. Hia computer came across something of interest. The first cloned thylacine specimen will be presented at the World Expo being held the day after tomorrow-despite some protests by animal rights and environmentalist groups. He was curious about the circumstances, but most of the online media was focused on the miracle of science. I'd like to see one of those thylacines up close. I bet this would be right up Preceptor's alley too. What's this?
"Hey Sunstreaker, you might not have to worry about your wax job after all," he said.
"Oh yeah? Let me pull a human out of my aft," the other bot snorted.
Beachcomber held up his hands. "Relax, Sunstreaker." He told the others about the World Expo, which included a charity car show and auto detailing with the latest green technology.
Sunstreaker considered this. "Yeah sure, whatever. I might even enter that car show once I'm fixed up. I'll blow away the competition."
Optimus nodded. He was glad to see his autobots in better spirits. "Great idea, Beachcomber. I think that expo might be fun, however, I think some of us should hang around there in case of Megatron. Sunstreaker, I want Tracks to accompany you."
"What the hell, Optimus!?" snarled Sunstreaker, his mood fouled by the suggestion. "I'm not the one who started it. That pompous little bitch can stay scratched up and far away from me."
Prime put his foot down both literally and figuratively. It was enough to snap even the Lamborghini to attention. "Enough! I know Tracks is responsible for the fight, and I also know you escalated things! I want you both to make up. I can't afford to have dissension among my autobots."
Beachcomber stepped forward. "Prime, might I offer a suggestion?"
Optimus nodded.
"I wouldn't mind giving myself a little TLC. I'll stay close to Tracks."
Prime put a hand on the Beachcomber's shoulder. "You're a lifesaver. Sunstreaker, would that make you feel better?"
The Lamborghini huffed with crossed arms. "I suppose. At least I won't have to stress a bolt about babysitting the little bitch."
The blue optics of Optimus Prime narrowed as he cleared his throat.
Sunstreaker tossed up his arms. "Fine! I'm sorry. I'm just mad about my paintjob. I'll work on being nicer to him, okay?"
Optimus put his other arm around Sunstreak. "Good," he said, "Now let's power down for the night."
Powerglide entered. "What'd I miss?"