Part One



The robot on the metal platform that was currently serving as a bed didn't look dangerous at the moment. An energon cube was on a shelf above him with tubes of the liquid energy leading into his body at a steady drip that was used up almost as soon as it entered the robot. There was too much of a risk of frying delicate circuitry if a constant stream of energon was used or else that kind of setup would have been in use. He hadn't moved a limb since Depth Charge had dragged him here and set up the energy feed, and the manta ray was honestly starting to think that maybe that last experiment by the Center had knocked the robot's body offline for good. What was the use of an indestructible spark if the body it was in was practically dead from starvation?

Depth Charge turned away from Rampage's motionless form and stared at the computer components scattered across the bridge. He hadn't wanted to bring the crab to the control center of the ship, but he would have taken a chance of Rampage waking up unguarded if he had put him back in the cell several levels down in the starship. Not that he seriously thought that the crab could do much in his severely weakened condition, but it was also more convenient this way. He didn't have to keep running back and forth between checking on him and repairing the computers on the bridge. It saved time.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Alright, he'd admit it: he was afraid. He was afraid of being alone in here, only an arm's length from the exploded computer than had disintegrated most of Rattrap's upper body and head. He had placed the pitiful remains of his friend in a distant room and locked the door, awash with the pain of grief, and realized that he was in a starship adrift in deep space who-knows-where with a computer system that was basically scrap and needed at least two people working at once to run it. He was the last of many victims; the one responsible for getting the information about the A.L.H. Research Center to Rarmet, the media hub of the galaxy, which would then expose it and its backers. They would be ruined; the people who had died would be avenged. The responsibilities fell on his shoulders alone.

And all Depth Charge had left to fulfill his mission with was a starship drifting dead in space, some tapes and evidence that would never reach the planet if the starship couldn't get him there, and an unconscious homicidal psychopath who also happened to have fallen victim to the Center. There was no other person besides Rampage on board; in order to navigate the starship there had to be at least two people. That is, IF he could even get the computers back online. All the ship had now was basic life support.

Depth Charge sat down at the computer station that had killed Rattrap and twitched his fins back, straightening his shoulders. All right, so he was afraid. The fear of being alone was illogical, but he knew that it would pass as the reality of Rattrap's death sank in. The other fear was more logical. He wasn't afraid of death, but of failure. If he couldn't stop the A.L.H. Research Center now, the atrocities being committed there would go on unchecked. That fear, almost frustration more than fear really, stuck in his chest and constricted, making everything seem hopeless. He was one 'bot against many, and he was afraid he wouldn't be enough to make a difference. He couldn't share this responsibility with anyone. He was by himself.

A tiny sound made him snap around in his seat.



His world was pain. His joints ached, his arms and legs were leaden with agony, and his spark pulsed with constant, level pangs of HURT. For some reason he dimly remembered as energy deprivation, his optics were offline. He must be in his cell. What had the latest test done to him? He must have finally been allowed to go offline, so the spark-compression experiment must have ended. Or had he merely been allowed to rest for a little while to prolong the agony? No, there was something in his arm. He could feel it; a small but steady influx of energy. Was it tainted? The only way to find out was to look at it. He strained to slide his legs over the side of his sleeping platform but only managed to shift one of his feet with a soft clang.

Suddenly hands were pulling at the flow of energon into his arm, causing more pain and an immediate weakening in his entire body. He automatically tried to yell at the hands to stop, remembering too late that the gag Dr. Kilju had put on him prevented any noise from his voice box. To his vague shock his yell actually emerged from his mouth as a whimpered moan. Words said in a familiar voice were heard in his audios, but only the urgent tone made any sense to him. He couldn't understand what was being said in that tone.

Then something cool slid into his mouth and he sputtered in surprise as liquid energon flowed down the small tube and into his throat. Only for a nano-second though, as his drained mind and body registered that this was ENERGY.



"Slow down!" Depth Charge tugged the end of the tube away again, and Rampage made a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper. It was obvious that the crab was in pain, but the demand for more energon was almost as fierce. "Your body can't handle too much energon too fast!" He waited for a long moment, then let the crab sip again, hoping that he wasn't doing this too quickly. Reading about what to do in with starvation victims wasn't the same as dealing with one, and seeing the pathetic, eager way Rampage reached for the energy source the best he could in his weakened state made it hard for him to deliberately withhold it.

According to the text he and Rattrap had been able to dig up just prior to their escape, the systems in a starved 'bot were mostly shut down. Giving them too much energon too fast caused them to snap back online, trying to do their full functions in a body that was too weak to handle that. Like a human eating food that was too rich, a robot's body would reject the energon.

"Slow down!" he said again. A weak movement of the crab's hands attracted his attention when he removed the tube again. So. Rampage's systems WERE recovering. Depth Charge checked the level of the energon remaining in the cube and pulled away from the crab. "That's enough for now."

A weak sound of protest came from Rampage, and that actually encouraged the manta ray. It was the first sign of understanding by the abused form lying on the make-shift bed.

"Give your systems time to adjust," he told the crab, hoping some of what he was saying was getting through. "I'll continue the intravenous feed while you're offline."



The pain wasn't as bad now, and he could vaguely understand what the familiar voice was telling him. His audios had a disturbing tendency to miss words, but he got the general idea. This voice meant him no harm. He wasn't at the A.L.H. Research Center anymore. This wasn't some cruel experiment!

Memories slid past his conscious mind as he strained to listen to what the voice was saying, and he started to relax. He couldn't QUITE remember, but what he could told him to trust the voice...for now.

He drifted wearily into a more natural resting state.



When he woke this time, he stayed still. Pain still beat at him relentlessly, but it had ebbed a long way from burning agony it had been the first time he awoke. The energy feed was back in his arm again, and he reveled in the strength it was giving him. The starvation was over. He winced at the hollow pain in his spark even as he let himself feel the restoration of his systems. Some things hadn't been restored to him, apparently.

"Blasted computer!"

The crash and accompanying curse came from nearby, and he slowly powered up his optics. His sight flickered alarmingly for a little bit, and his surroundings remained a bit blurred, but at least he could see the origin of the angry words.

A shielding panel for a computer was on the floor, with the upper part of someone growing from it. Rampage puzzled over what his optics were showing him, trying to figure out why the struggling figure had the lower body of a computer. Then things snapped into perspective; the shielding panel had fallen onto the floor, pinning the robot down underneath it. That was what the noise had been. Now the robot under the computer panel was cursing in what the crab slowly realized was a familiar voice.

"Depth Charge?"

His voice was weak enough that for a moment he wondered if he had said anything, but the ray stopped struggling in order to stare across the room at him. A strange mix of emotions crossed the face of his old enemy: hatred and relief, frustration and fear, anger and hope. His features finally settled into an expression of irritation, but Rampage remained confused as he sensed the dampened fear tainting the manta ray. Depth Charge had never been afraid around him before...

"Now you're awake? Great," Depth Charge said gruffly. "Just what I needed," he added with more than a hint of bitter sarcasm. "First this, now you come back online at the worst possible time..."

Rampage did his best to sneer as his optics flickered with the effort. "Well, I'm SO sorry to inconvenience you, Fish Face. I'll just get up and leave then--" But his arms gave out when he tried to brace them to heave himself upright, and he gasped as his entire body weakened. His optics unfocused again.

"Stay STILL!" the blurred silver and blue form on the floor yelled at him.

He wasn't sure he heard him right. His audios had missed part of what he said. "Wha...what?" His voice shook.

"Don't move! Your body can't take a lot of movement at the moment, so just stay still!" His own face must have shown doubt because there was a sigh of frustration. When Depth Charge's voice came again, it was low with reluctant persuasion, "Look, this is going to sound strange, but you have to trust me. Don't move."

Rampage felt himself shaking with energy withdrawal and deliberately tried to relax. It took what seemed like a long time, but gradually the shaking stopped and his optics slowly focused, although they were much dimmer than before. "What's going on?" he asked faintly.

"I'll explain later when I'm more sure you're hearing everything I say," Depth Charge said, looking at him critically.

The crab hesitated, extremely conscious of both his own and the ray's vulnerable situations. Did he dare put his life in his worst enemy's hands? A shock of realization hit him, though, as he thought it over; Depth Charge wasn't his worst enemy any longer. He wasn't sure what they were to each other now, but the ray had rescued him from the torture of experimentation. Did enemies do that? Before he had been to the A.L.H. Research Center, he would have thought Maximals in general did that sort of thing. But his chief tormentors had both been Maximals. Where did that leave him with Depth Charge, a Maximal who had gone against his government?

Reluctantly, Rampage nodded. He watched the manta ray go back to trying to get out from underneath the computer panel and privately admitted that he probably wouldn't have been able to do anything, anyway. Just moving his head and powering up his optics had left him limp with lack of energy.

But while his optics dimmed, his mind raced in confused circles. He didn't know what was going on! Depth Charge, of all people, had rescued...HIM? It didn't make any sense at all, and Rampage could only wonder uneasily what was going to happen to him now. The fatigue-fogged memories that he had of the escape provided no clues except that it seemed like the ray had actually come back for him instead of just breaking out on his own. But why had the ray been breaking out of the Research Center? Hadn't he had the position he had wanted, in control of the Protoform X Security?

He remembered the blind chaos that had surrounded them as they fled the Center. He had been forced to rely on Depth Charge to guide him when his optics had finally given out, so he had only been able to hear the sirens and panicked intercom messages requesting help in besieged areas. Had it only been an opportunity that the ray had leapt on, or had the confusion been planned? Either way, Depth Charge had led him, blind and helpless, out of torture and into...what?

Maybe the manta ray had only rescued him in order to kill him. In that case, Rampage would welcome death over returning to the endless tests and experiments that Dr. Kilju had organized for him. Starvation had only been part of what had been planned, and his breath caught strangely as he remembered the long, detailed descriptions Admiral Jirex had read aloud to him between each excruciating test on his spark, or his body, or how his spark affected his body, or whatever the scientists wanted to do to him. A list of questions Dr. Kilju and his new associates had thought up during the time when the crab had been free and were going to find answers for no matter the pain they caused. Rampage had listened to the mocking voice of the Admiral and had been sickened by the hopeless future presented to him. Anger had sustained him for a time, but the draining starvation had taken away even the energy needed to keep that alive. By then, if he could have managed it, he would have taken his own life to stop the pain, the humiliation. But he couldn't. Immortality had its setbacks, and there were times when he wished he didn't have it.

Rampage strained against the heavy lethargy settling over him and heaved a sigh of bitter surrender. He had no choice but to trust Depth Charge for now. He couldn't return to the A.L.H. Research Center, and he was willing to pay any price to stay out of it. If he had to live without freedom again, in chains if that was what Depth Charge required to keep him under control, he would. Not that he wouldn't try to escape, but he didn't think that the ray had spontaneously broken him out of the torture just to let him go again, or even to kill him. Feeding him energy didn't go along with that idea at all. Really, though, nothing in the ordinary way of things was happening, and he was bewildered by his position in this situation: unknown and weak.

That very weakness swamped him, shutting down his body into a period of recharge as his mind subsided into subconscious unease.



His arms strained, pushing against the heavy metal panel on top of his legs, and Depth Charge continued muttering curses as it refused to relent to the pressure. Even as he struggled, though, he glanced at the silent form on the metal shelf, wondering if Rampage had really gone offline. He didn't seriously think that the crab could do anything if he WAS awake, but he hadn't thought he would react so strongly to him awakening in the first place. He wasn't sure he wanted the crab to reawaken until he had figured out his own emotions.

Had it been that long since he'd actually talked to someone, or did it just seem like it? As much as he had disliked being stranded on Earth, its way of measuring time had grown on him. He had set a schedule up for himself on the planet, hunting for Rampage for five sunrises and then deliberately taking a break. The sight of the sun breaking over the horizon tended to remind him more than his internal clock. Here on the ship there were obviously no sunrises, but he had gotten used to using the time measurements; he had been stranded here for four 'days' by Earth time. In all that time, he had spoken only a few last words for Rattrap and a couple brief conversations with a semi-conscious Rampage. Depth Charge was a solitary 'bot by nature, but the very lack of company made him wish there was some.

But Rampage was all there was.

He muttered a few more curses at that thought more than at the computer still pinning him down, but then he sighed and fell silent. The computer panel was heavy, emphasizing what he already knew: he couldn't repair this ship by himself. He couldn't FLY it by himself. He needed someone else to help him, and the only other person available was his most hated enemy. Or, at least, the person he HAD hated the most. Now he wasn't sure if that hatred should be pity or not. After what had been done to the crab, could he really blame Rampage for being how he was? Were the killings justified by what had been done to him?

He didn't know, but he couldn't think about his confusion right now. What he needed more than answers to his questions was a second person to help him fly this crippled ship. Depth Charge had tracked X across the galaxy, and even though he had called him a mass murderer and a psychopath, one thing he had never found evidence of was a lack of intelligence. The files he had accessed both from the original Protoform X compound and from the A.L.H Research Center confirmed that Rampage was considered, for all his faults, to be brilliant. For some reason Depth Charge couldn't understand, the scientists who had created the Protoform X project had specifically designed the protoform to be smarter than they were.

All of which meant that Rampage was intelligent enough to understand Depth Charge's reasons for getting to Rarmet. He hoped so, at least. There had to be SOME way to convince the crab to help him, but he couldn't—or wouldn't—offer freedom as a bribe. Rampage would only find another population to massacre, and Depth Charge had sworn that Omicron and Rugby wouldn't happen again. If it came down to it, the manta ray would choose to keep Rampage locked up rather than setting him loose, even if he had to find some way to repair the ship on his own.

Hopefully he wouldn't have to resort to that. He wasn't sure he could do it. He heaved once more at the computer, sighing in relief as it finally shifted enough for him to roll out from underneath its weight. Next time, however, he might not be able to move it. Perhaps, he thought wryly, he should work on something lighter for now. Like…wiring. He would have to scavenge through the already-rerouted consoles just to find enough intact wiring to use on the consoles Rattrap had set up to control the ship. The useless consoles would end up gutted, empty husks by the time he was through with them, and it made him feel slightly guilty. This ship had once been Captain Venara's pride and joy.

But Captain Venara was dead; murdered like she hadn't been a Maximal worthy of living. Depth Charge steeled himself with thoughts that were almost familiar. Now, too, he sought justice. His target was just bigger this time, that's all.

Meanwhile, though, the 'bot he had once hunted across the galaxy lay offline, dim optics staring at him sightlessly. Depth Charge would have to get used to being around him without trying to kill him. The hunt had ended, but now they were both the hunted.

Together, they had to outrun the hunters.