11. Surprised
White tiger, snowplow, computer graphics.
Suggested by: Tyrrlin

A/N: Loosely based on a dream I had. Non-canon

Cold seeped into her circuitry, crawled up her trylithium bones and wormed into the delicate wires and nodes of her cortex. She half-knelt in the snow, pistol draped with false idleness over one spiked knee, staring between the jagged peaks of the mountains that encircled their small group. Beyond those ice-capped behemoths, a battle raged.

Widening her optics with a whirl and a click, Solarflare could see the orange and purple of each side's tracers arcing over a sky of pure, pristine blue. Behind her, Hoist's engine rumbled, barely masking the grunts of the engineer as he pushed hard-packed snow and ice from the smooth face of this particular mountain. Sitting in a freshly-plowed furrow was Windcharger, keeping Chip Chase warm as Hoist dug. The human was not watching Hoist's endeavor; rather, his head was bent low, studying the diagrams on one of Wheeljack's devices.

"How much longer, Hoist?" Windcharger demanded when a wayward rocket blew a peak to bits. Chunks of mountain flew in every direction, showering them with pebbles and fist-sized rocks. "If the readings are correct …"

Hoist grunted loudly, steam wafting over his hood; it wrapped around his side mirrors and curled over his roof, to disperse into the cold air. Poor Hoist, Flare thought, brushing pebbles from sensitive crevasses and lifting her stiffening frame from where she lay on the ground, making an impromptu snow-eagle. Keeping her pistol in her right hand, she dug into subspace with her left; rummaged around for her pillbox, popped the top and shook one of Ratchet's horse pills down her metallic throat, where it landed with a hollow thunk at the bottom of her tank. A shot of Energon followed.

Rising, the grey femme rotated her shoulders, staring over the mountain horizon. "Are we getting close, Chip?" she asked over her shoulder. Her wings went taunt as she saw a flicker of Decepticon Seeker wings arcing towards them, only to be clipped by a smart hit from Powerglide.

Safe and warm within Windcharger's interior, the human nodded. His voice echoed around in their internal audio receptors, augmented by the red and grey Pontiac. "Almost there," he promised. "Sensor readings indicate that there's a cave-in close by. We should be able to access the interior that way."

"Good," the usually-jolly Hoist groaned. He dislodged the plow from his front bumper and transformed, stretching his nozzle-hand towards the cleared area. With one optic on the battle that was keeping the Decepticons from this very spot, Flare watched Hoist lean towards the barren rockface; he pressed his cheek to the wall, the fingers of his other hand spread over the surface, moving slowly, like a safecracker.

Windcharger was watching, too. "They're getting closer, buddy. Hurry up."

"In due time, in due time," the green-gold tow-truck replied a little tersely. "Ah. Here. Move back, Charger."

The Minibot obliged, eager to get on with the mission. Flare shifted as Hoist's nozzle-hand aimed at the center of what appeared to be old rock fall. She ended up diving head-first into the now-hard snow as Hoist's blast ripped through the mountain's side. "Oops." The grey avian femme angled wings away from her helm, shifting pebbles and toe-sized chunks from their sharp planes.

" 'Oops'," she echoed, frowning. Hoist's brow ridge rose in abject embarrassment, the tip of his gun curling grey and black smoke. He shrugged and looked to Chip. The human was climbing out of Windcharger's passenger seat, tugging the collar of his winter parka close to his neck. No wheelchair bound him these days, not with Autobot ingenuity strapped to his legs and wired to his nervous system. Still technically paralyzed, Chip Chase could now walk freely.

"This is definitely it, guys," Chip declared, glancing at the readout streaming over the hand-held's screen. Flare wandered over and looked down, seeing the colored aura that pulsed from the heart of the peak.

"I'll radio Optimus," she told them, turning to face the battle beyond the other peaks. A slim mic slid from its recess along her right cheek as she sought to contact the Autobot commander.

" … good … zzssshhh … proceed, Solarflare."

Reception fizzled, popped and abruptly died. Optics wide, Solarflare stared across the icy world and saw the same amount of purple as she did orange. "Optimus! Optimus?" Where was Blaster when she needed his boosting abilities? Oh, yes, at the Ark, doing her normal duties while she actually got to play.

"What's wrong?" Windcharger demanded, transforming and shaking the snow from his lower legs.

"I lost contact."

Hoist, examining the stability of the newly-opened cavern hole, nodded absently. "I don't doubt it. At this altitude, coupled with the high level of energy discharge, it's no wonder you can't make a connection." He paused. "Can you bounce the signal off of a satellite, back to yourself and out to Optimus?"

Solarflare stared at the engineer, lip components slack. Slowly, she shook her head, feeling decidedly lacking in equipment. She wasn't Blaster – not by a longshot. Her talents lay in sorting, multitasking, general secretary work. Blaster was built for communication; she could only hope to gain the necessary components. "I did manage to receive his go-ahead," she told them.

Windcharger nodded. "Well then, let's go." He motioned for Chip to precede him, then followed, not even bothering to duck. Solarflare paused, eyed the size of the opening and compared it to herself.

"Are you coming?" she asked the tow truck, stalling for time.

He gestured to his wider frame, a rueful smile winking in the clean blue glass of his optics. "I'll stay here and keep an eye out for trouble."

"Flare!" Windcharger called out, his voice echoing in and around the cave. "Transform and get in here already!"

Abashed, Flare nodded in Hoist's direction and followed Windcharger's order. With the ungangly hop-skip-shuffle inherent in land-bound raptors, she scuttled across the uneven cavern floor until she reached the impatient Minibot and Chip. It was cold, if not colder, within the bowels of the mountain; frost-rimmed stalagmites jabbed downwards, threatening to drop at a moment's notice. Heat from her metallic structure rose into the air, landing on the rock teeth; dew formed, only to freeze a nanosecond later, creating a herd of teardrops.

Light receded the further they walked from the cave's mouth. Chip now road atop Windcharger's sleek shoulders, the utter cold of the cave becoming too much for even his insolated boots. The Minibot lead the way, his headlights illuminating a path that slowly transformed from haphazard into smooth and uninhibiting.

It also grew taller.

Transforming, Solarflare stretched, popping a servo and a pill. "This is not real," she whispered, part in fear of dislodging any hidden spires, part anxiety.

"The signal is exceedingly strong," Chip murmured, half to himself. The young man removed a small scan unit attached to the larger whole and swung it in a gentle arc. The unit obligingly increased the intensity with which it beeped. "What we're looking for is down that way." Windcharger swung in the indicated direction; his headlights washed over pale brown rock, shot through with thick veins of a darker brown, silver and black.

Flare turned on the spot, hand automatically reaching for her holster. "We didn't make this … who did?"

Windcharger snorted in agreement. "Dunno." He pursed grey lip components and walked over to the nearest wall, spreading his fingers against the smoothness, as if trying to discern identity by feel alone. "We're often finding things here that don't belong. Where to, Chip?"

Perched on the Minibot's shoulders, Chip peered at his scanner. "Still straight ahead."

The red-grey mech nodded. "Weapons out, Flare." A soft click heralded the extraction of Windcharger's pistol from subspace. With a nod, Solarflare drew hers, rapping taloned fingertips against the handle, edgy. With each passing moment, the cavern grew in size until it suddenly disgorged them into a massive amphitheatre. Chip's scanner gave voice to an aural-piercing shriek before exploding in a puff of smoke. Hastily, Chip dropped the device; jostling the human so that his head bounce on his neck like a bobblehead doll, Windcharger stamped the remains to a smoldering pile of crisped circuits.

Slowly, Flare stepped around them, both mech and man cursing and coughing. She holstered her pistol and set both hands on the Cybertronian-tall rail that encircled the amphitheatre. Down into the bowels she stared, optic shutters flickering in disbelief. Blowing smoke from his nasal passage, Windcharger fell in beside her. "By Primus," the red-grey Minibot swore.

"Primus indeed …" Solarflare echoed, talons flexing on the rail. It was smooth; glancing along its length, she could discern no spot where it had been welded together. A seamless, steel-colored affair that rose as high as her waist, it rose out of the floor as if it had sprouted. Such technology was not unknown to her, but to see it here – in the depths of the Himalayas – was disconcerting.

The contents of the amphitheatre were no less worrisome. Sitting in the middle of the chamber was a giant vial – a tube – filled with glowing green liquid. A long panel with various flickering lights and charts spanned half its length. Here, in the center of a mountain, the temperature was cool, but not cold. Chip immediately took advantage of it and loosened the parka around his shoulders.

"Time to play pass the human." Windcharger chuckled low and lifted Chip from his shoulders; Solarflare accepted her "prize" and made sure Chip was comfortably situated between shoulder strut and neck guard before following the sloping stairs down to the control room. Hooking a foot around what seemed to be a square container, she let Chip stand on his own two feet before the main panel – or what she perceived to be the center. Out of the corner of one optic, she saw Windcharger begin to pace the catwalk, his shoulder plates hunched, body slung into a low crouch.

"Look familiar?" Chip's query broke the femme's observation.

Slowly, she shook her head. "Not in the least." Setting dental plates to lower lip, Solarflare scanned the board for an access port. Chip's fingertips hovered over buttons but did not touch. The set-up was nearly his size, but raised high off the ground. "If you find a port, let me know," she told him, leaving the human genius to his devices, trusting his common sense.

She turned, walking around the huge tank. Viscous green ooze floated therein, an alien's answer to the lava lamp. The symbols that covered the surface did not match any in the Ark's databanks, nor was it in any human code. The buttons were colored as well as stamped with one symbol apiece, arranged in four-by-three groups. Lights flickered, flamed to life as she passed the half-way mark. Oh, no, she thought, taking a step back. A shrill sound pulsed once, then abruptly died.

"What's going on?" Windcharger demanded, panicked. Leaning over the railing, the Minibot's grey facial planes were streaked liberally with green as the tank glowed brighter.

"I don't know!" she called back, lowering her right arm from where it protected her cranium. "Chip!?"

"Activity on-screen," Chip answered, more calm and collected than either Autobot. As all three stared, transfixed, the liquid in the tank slowly turned from green to transparent, revealing an occupant. Gape-mouthed, Flare could not tear her optics away from the sight: it was a bird, a giant avian whose size paralleled her own – or more. It was curled in the fetal position, wings close to its body. Cream-colored, it bobbled like a toy, thin chest rising and falling; tubes protruded from its body, anchored to the tank's base.

"Primus," she whispered.

The floor beneath her pyramidal feet tremored as Windcharger vaulted the rail to land by her side. "Relative, Flare?"

The grey femme's crest flicked backwards in mild irritation. "I hope not; he's a skinny thing."

"You would be, too, if you were kept in a vial." Windcharger's head turned, scanning the area. "What is it?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Chip called from the opposite side. "I think I got the configuration …"

"Vae'a'tuu Vahsoii. Engi, engi … Vahsoii garen rakchok …"

The suddenness of the alien voice had them all jumping in place. Windcharger cursed, Chip regained his balance and Solarflare finally found a port. Almost immediately, she was engulfed in the virtual world of the alien's computer. Symbols, sounds and images not of Earth or Cybertron flooded past her core consciousness. "Vahsoii, Vahsoii," became the chant that followed her through the database.

Here was a code she could not crack on her own – not without Blaster. It was too complex, too alien. You're a fool, you know, for leaping into this without the proper precautions, she chastised herself, floating within the void. But doesn't caution give way to necessity? Images flowed by her: scenes of Earth from days – millennia – gone by. Animals, environs, shots of the sky torn in twain by savage tornados. Solarfare saw lions, tigers, whales … all the animals of the known world. She saw a shadow, vaguely equine in facial structure, but standing upon two legs, a long tail waving behind it, tossing meat to a white tiger. "Reaching" out, Flare gently touched the picture –

—and was thrown out of the link.

PAIN swirled in her cortex, leaked out of her mouth, spilled over lip components as bright gold sparks.

Pain echoed in her head, swirled within her body. Pain hummed in time to the laser blasts which now filled the amphitheatre.

Dimly, Flare heard Windcharger's shouts, the raucous caw born of a metallic throat. Laserbeak – or Buzzsaw. Groaning, she levered herself onto one elbow, touching her jaw reflexively. Pain swarmed up her neck, arcing across delicate servos and nerve-wires, straight into her cortex.

"Diagnostic," she whispered hoarsely, thanking Primus for the fact that she hadn't gone too far into the system to do lasting harm.

"Unit Solarflare. 5-percent damage to neurological circuits."

"Repair."

"Acknowledged."

She could feel the subtle shift in her body as her system began internal repairs. But now was not the time to idly sit and contemplate. The metallic condor that was Buzzsaw ripped through the amphitheatre, screaming his triumph and insulting them at the same time. Where there was one Cassetticon, there were Decepticons on its little heels. Wings and legs groaning, Solarflare shoved herself to her feet, wobbling momentarily before her equilibrium straightened out.

Buzzsaw saw her appear from behind the creature's tank. He left off pecking at Windcharger's head and streaked for her. Small turrets behind his head opened up and rained a smart pattern of laser fire across her chest.

PAIN blossomed anew. With a scream, Flare twisted, spun and fell onto the console. It crumbled under her heavy weight, splintering, spluttering and showering white sparks across her Energon-streaked chestplate. Licking coolant from a busted lower lip, Flare struggled upright, optics following the pigeon to her eagle. "I … don't … think so," she growled, lifting her right arm. The panel atop her forearm peeled back; tri-barreled gun now lay exposed. Sighting along her wrist, Flare shot at the Decepticon.

Buzzsaw cawed, laughed. He spun on his inner pinion and clipped Windcharger across the back of his head as the Minibot struggled to return fire. If I ever get the chance, I will eat him, Flare vowed, pressing her free hand to her chest. Raw. She fired again, then again. The black and orange condor laughed – until Windcharger jumped up and grabbed him by his stubby, pincher-like legs.

With a cry of triumph, Solarflare backed out of the console, dragging wires and bits of plastic along with her. They clung to her tail feathers and trailed off of the leading edge of her black steel pinions.

The Minibot swung Buzzsaw in a wide arc, intending to smash him head-first into the cavern wall. But Buzzsaw had other things to do with his head; as Windcharger released the Decepticon's legs, Buzzsaw's boosters kicked in. Buffeting Windcharger in the head with the edge of his wing, Buzzsaw miscalculated and smashed into the tank.

Viscous, colorless liquid exploded in every direction, drenching Flare. She coughed, spluttered, and was instantly covered with the inexplicable weight of the avian. Slick, sodden feathers were everywhere, filling the crevassed in her armor, in her optics and mouth. With a curse that would have made Sunstreaker smile, the grey femme waved her arms, trying to get a proper purchase on the creature. Wires trailed after it and broke, one by one, as she slipped on the floor, legs moving independently of her body.

Slowly, other voices called out. Someone grabbed her by the shoulder strut, hauling her away from the boiling ruin of the console. Blinded by feathers, she instinctively threw her wings out, catching whoever it was in the chest. The grunt that issued was decidedly familiar: "Gee, babydoll, care to let a mech help with yer package?"

Air whistled from her ventilators in relief. Gentle black digits peeled the worst of the avian's feathers from her helm, baring her optics. Jazz's visor winked back at her over the creature's bulk. "Hand 'em over, girl an' let th' doc check ya out. That goo can't be good for th' old chestplate, eh?"

"But … Buzzsaw?" she managed to say around the feathers. Jazz looped both arms around the bird and peeled him from her grasp.

"Ahhh, he shot outta here with a good deal of Autobot laser in his butt," the saboteur chuckled. A glint passed over his visor as he looked at the bird in his keeping. "What is this?"

Something scuttled at their feet. Both Autobots looked down to see Chip Chase skid through the liquid. "I managed to glean a little from the console before Buzzsaw came," he told them, taking his glasses off and surreptitiously wiping them off on his soaked parka. "It's called a 'Vahsoii', I believe."

"Vahsoii?" Jazz repeated, frowning. "Ain't never heard a'those before."

" … vah … ha … ii …"

Jazz jumped, almost dropping the cream-colored beast in their mutual surprise. Against his shoulder, a head lifted, a black hooked beak moved. "… zai … ii …" it wheezed. " … vah … zai … ii … iii …" It trailed off, spent so dearly in body and mind.

"Say it again, m'man," Jazz urged, kneeling in the liquid, tipping the bird's head up to look in its eyes. "C'mon. I'm Jazz, what's yer name?"

Flare leaned close, one hand on Jazz's shoulder. Gummed lids flickered, peeled backwards. Grey flickered in the creature's eyes. As they watched, waited, the bird's beak parted … then it shuddered, violently, and lay still.

Solarflare stood in the snow, staring down at the rocky cairn that marked the bird's final resting place. Temporary patches covered her burned chestplate, but she did not mind the pain. She could dampen that – while this innocent could not. It would never feel again … but, it was free.

"We've gathered what we could from the cave, Flare," Windcharger said, coming up from behind. He stopped by her side, looked at her face then down at the cairn. "We might never know what it was, or how it came to be here," he told her gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Be glad that he's gone, else Megs would've done something far worse."

Was that supposed to be some form of comfort? she wondered. No, she couldn't be angry at Windcharger; he meant well. "Aye," she replied hollowly.

"Let's go, Flare. Wheeljack wants to take a look at the files you managed to snag," he said and led the mourning femme from the cairn. As she walked away, she hoped that the creature who had captured the Vahsoii, or whatever it called itself, was dead. For whoever used a living being to power a station was truly evil.

And if she ever came across the perpetrator, she would do the deed herself.

Second A/N: There are two hints to my original work here; if you can guess them (they're fairly obvious) you get a cookie. :D The story is non-canon for these very reasons.