First Do No Harm
"Acknowledged, sir," Tarantulas said to the strangely-accented robot on the screen, and communications channel cut off before he started cackling to himself.
Tripedicus Council agent, Rhinox thought distantly as the spider tapped at his console and giggled at a frantic pace. Tarantulas, an agent of the Predacon Secret Police. Who knew? He had certainly never expected it, but the instant obedience to Agent Ravage's orders was unquestioning and far greater than any loyalty shown to Megatron's commands. The ex-Decepticon's orders would be carried out; Tarantulas would help collapse the Predacon base's defenses for the combined attack of the Maximals and Ravage's ship, and Megatron would be arrested. The Predacons would be brought back to Cybertron and tried as criminals. The Maximals would be rescued at the Maximal High Command's orders by agents of the Tripedicus Council. The Beast Wars would end as strangely as it had begun.
All of which would not stop Rhinox from dying.
The pain receptors buried in the skin and flesh of his beast mode had burned past the point of feeling actual pain, but that didn't stop him from feeling how his body softened and dripped slowly off his structure. An acid, he knew, maybe hydrochloric or sulfuric, but the shocking arrival of Agent Ravage's ship--a rescue ship, too late for him--had cut off Tarantulas' aggressive gloating before that had been revealed. All Rhinox knew was that his organic parts were melting; dissolving off and out of his Cybertronian body at an unnatural rate that scalded sensors and left essential wiring exposed. Had the process been gradual and allowed his transformation circuitry to adapt to losing his beast mode, he could have cut the necessary systems out of the loop. As it was, nothing could spare his body. A thousand malfunctions and warnings blared in his audios and streamed across his vision, demanding immediate medical attention. The situation could only degrade from here.
So close, he thought bleakly. The agent claiming to represent the joint commands of the Maximals and Predacons on Cybertron had come minutes after the injection, perhaps an hour after his initial capture, and less than a day after the curious bait in Sector Parson had first popped up on the Axalon's scanners and lured him into Tarantulas' trap. He lowered his optics and watched in detached horror as another pain-numbed gobbet of flesh plopped to the stone underneath the web. It lay there hissing, smoke and liquid spreading from it as he disintegrated from the inside out. So close, Agent Ravage, and yet too far.
Tarantulas let out another burst of cackling, green visor cutting toward the web the Maximal hung from before he turned back to his hacking. He'd angled the screen so his superior officer couldn't see Rhinox hanging there, but he had no doubt that the other Maximals knew their science officer was missing by now. They would look for him. With Ravage's help, he had no doubt that they would eventually trace the rhino to his lair. It would certainly not look good if they found Rhinox dying in one of his webs. Not that he intended to try and save him, of course, since he knew the Tripedicus Council didn't give a slag if a Maximal died and he personally loathed this particular Maximal. Self-righteous scientists who were actually competent enough to stick to their morals and still match his genius deserved to be beaten at their own game.
Truthfully, however, most of his cackling did come from nervousness. He highly enjoyed breaking into Megatron's 'secure' files and base, but Ravage's orders had been too direct to plead ignorance of later. Implied intentions aside, he'd been explicitly ordered to assist the Maximals. Agents who screwed up could be screwed over, and he wasn't entirely sure the joint commands wouldn't throw him in with the Predacon criminals if Rhinox died at his hands.
He couldn't immediately think of any way to conceal that fact, either. Perhaps if he had a few more hours, or even a convenient 'fellow' Predacon to fob the death off on…but no, this wasn't a manner of death that Terrorsaur and Waspinator could ever be framed for, and Scorpinok was too clueless to make it believable. Megatron? Bah. As much as he'd like to set Megatron up for the fury of Rhinox's faction, he just couldn't figure out how to do it. That left trying to hide the body or lying through his mandibles. He didn't have time to do the former, and the extent of such a lie require to trick an agent like Ravage made him slightly ill. Trying to lie to a superior officer was the kind of stunt that landed agents like him in very deep holes, usually of the graveyard variety. He quite liked his life. Living appealed to him. Risking said life in a senseless attempt at covering his aft wasn't so appealing.
A rattling cough from behind him made Tarantulas flinch. He covered the involuntary motion with an automatic laugh. By now his cackling was even starting to get on HIS nerves. Much more of this and he'd be as crazy as he sounded just from dread.
He had to resort to inhaling deeply and forcing himself to hold his breath to stop the nervous cackles. "This is ridiculous," he muttered on the exhale. "Doomed if I do, doomed if I don't." If he told Ravage, his superior officer would have every right--and perhaps he would even consider it his duty, if he truly felt loyalty to the combined factions' Councils--to arrest him for war crimes, no matter his role as a double agent. Tarantulas had no doubt that the Maximals would try to kill him if they found out he'd been the one to torture and murder their comrade. If nothing else, if he DID end up in court for his part in the Beast Wars, their hostile testimony could condemn him to time in prison. Predacon Secret Police officers…did not do well at the mercies of other prisoners.
To be perfectly honest, the spider wasn't trying to save Rhinox because he wasn't sure he COULD. Lacking a stasis pod or CR Tank, there wasn't much he could do to stop the acid-induced necrosis of the rhino's form. The slurry of fluids and flesh that had once been his beast mode had taken out a series of vital internal systems, and that kind of damage couldn't be reversed without something to stabilize his spark. And while it was going to be bad enough to be caught with a Maximal corpse, having that same Maximal live long enough to implicate him in murder was sheer stupidity. At least this way he could TRY to weasel out of it.
The console beeped at him. "Incoming signal," the Predacon base's impassive female computer informed him. Tarantulas couldn't wait to taunt Megatron with the fact that the base computer had been under his control since the start of this foolish war.
But that had to wait. Who would be contacting him? Ravage? "Origin?"
"Maximal commlink. Estimated location: three clicks northeast."
His head whipped to the side, visor wide as it locked on Rhinox's broken form. A Maximal hailing his lair from that close? Ravage had to have informed the Maximals of his location, which begged the question of why the agent hadn't warned him of potential guests. Technically, since he was supposed to be aiding in their rescue, there really wasn't a reason NOT to tell the Maximals of his lair, but he wasn't a member of the Predacon SECRET Police for nothing. Ravage had to have guessed that there would be secrets in his hidden lair.
Which, if the agent had given away his location to the Maximals, said more about his loyalty to the combined factions than Tarantulas was comfortable with. Rhinox's dying presence suddenly loomed like a certain prison sentence shackled around his neck.
He forced his expression to calm and strangled a nervous chuckle before it escaped. "Open communications channel." At least his experience dealing with Megatron let his voice project fake confidence convincingly. "This is Tarantulas. What do you want?" Rudeness came like second nature; just because he was working with them didn't mean he had to like the Maximals any better.
The rodent's nasal whine cut through the still lair air like an accented hacksaw. "Knock knock, spider. Lemme in."
Oh, wonderful. He hated Rattrap on a good day. "Now why, teehehehe, would I do that?" The chuckle slipped out despite his efforts, but out of the corner of his visor he'd seen Rhinox buck in his webbing. Maybe it was hearing his friend's voice, or perhaps the acid had reached a pain receptor that still worked. "Go away, rat. I'm busy."
"No can do, ya--" He could almost hear the insults the rat stifled. Optimus Primal must have lectured him into submission about insulting allies. Too bad. Tarantulas could have refused him entry to his lair on a pretext of offense. "Look, ya sneaky, eight-legged copper," it really was odd to hear the Maximal address him by police slang, "your agent sent me ta collect restraints, some of your gizmos, and you. Not necessary unconnected, if ya get my drift," the rat added onto the end of his list.
He'd known he'd be joining the raid on the Predacon base. He'd suggested a few of his better inventions for use in pinpointing and restraining his former comrades, and Ravage had agreed upon their use. Tarantulas had simply assumed that Ravage would pick him up in the cloaked ship he'd arrived in when the time came. "Why hasn't Agent Ravage contacted me himself?" he stalled for time. He knew why. He'd been given orders to cooperate, and that meant cooperate, not drag his feet and delay. Like, say, he was doing now.
"I volunteered," Rattrap snapped, and there was suspicion in his voice. That, at least, was familiar. Spy versus spy, neither one trusting the other. And Rhinox may not have vanished out in this direction, but by now the Maximals would have started searching for him, and let it never be said that Tarantulas wasn't known for setting excellent traps. Of course the rat was suspicious! Tarantulas might have actually been insulted if he wasn't. "He's keepin' the ship grounded ta keep from alerting Grape-Face."
That made sense. He didn't like it, but it made sense. "Fine. Head straight north until you reach the rock face. There's a base sensor next to the ridge, but I'll disable it. TRY not to trip the other sensors, hmmm?" He cackled for a moment, pausing to imagine Megatron's face if the rat appeared out of nowhere on the base's sensory array. "Directly east of the sensor is a large boulder that's lighter than it should be. Move it to one side, and there should be a hole in the ground. If I feel like it," he said nastily, "I might even remember to disarm the traps inside."
Rattrap's voice oozed syrup. "Don't stir yourself for little ol' me. Your traps haven't slowed me down yet, eh?"
…he hated that rat. "It's just as well you're here now," he said, abruptly serious. Or so his voice sounded, although his mind had been racing during the entire conversation as he desperately made a plan.
"Huh?"
Tarantulas cut the connection off and whirled to press his back against the console. A Maximal was on his way into the base, and even the traps wouldn't slow THAT one down for long. A few more minutes of leeway at most, and then Tarantulas would be caught red-handed in murder and torture. He stared at the Maximal scientist dying--too slowly!--in his web and felt distinctly queasy as he fought his beast mode's instinctive urge to flee. It was a bad sign when a tarantula's instinct skipped 'fight' and went straight to 'flee.' Maybe he could add a little more acid, or introduce a virus, or--or--
"Ah, slag," he whispered, throwing the beginnings of a plan out. He couldn't kill the rhino and claim to have rescued Rhinox 'too late' to save him. It would be the easiest lie, but anything he did from this moment forward could be traced directly to him, and Rattrap would see that right away. He may hate the rat, but he had to respect the other spy's skills. Rattrap acted the fool, but having access to police files had kept Tarantulas better informed than he'd ever let Megatron know. There was no way Rattrap would believe a word he said with Rhinox's dead body hanging from his web.
A thin, slimy string of connective tissue oozed to the floor as the Predacon watched, and a high, almost hysterical chuckle responded to the sight. Regret? No. Rhinox was a stupid Maximal, and he held no regrets for killing any of that flock of idiots. That Rhinox had held to scientific morals he himself had long ago discarded only added to the personal satisfaction of destroying him as gruesomely and unethically as possible. Death was proof that the only way to ultimately succeed in this Pit-spawned universe was to turn his back on an artificially created and imposed set of beliefs that limited creative genius. Fighting Rhinox in the Beast Wars had enraged him because this goodie-goodie Maximal had nearly held his own, nearly proven him wrong, but no. Look at the precious Maximal ideals now, dying for a refusal to 'fight dirty.'
Predacons called it survival.
Tarantulas was RIGHT. He knew it. That didn't stop despair from curling around his spark at a sight that should bring him only satisfaction. Unless he killed Rattrap and took up Megatron's side of the war, he couldn't see any way out of a stint in jail. Probably a LONG stint in jail. Probably a scarring, if not fatal one. Failed agents didn't do well once returned to the Tripedicus Council's control, and he cringed at the thought of what could be worse than a prison term for a police officer.
He could do it. Megatron might not trust or like him, but if he threw in his lot with the tyrannical, delusional Predacon leader, even Megatron's tendency to hold a grudge couldn't stand against needing all the fighters he could get to stand against Ravage and the Maximals. With his knowledge of the agent's ship and capabilities, the Predacons might even stand a chance. A slim one, yes, but even that gave him higher odds than his current situation. There was simply no way he could hide all the evidence before Rattrap got here, even if he lied about the mess on the floor and shoved the body down a crevasse. Scent, if nothing else, would reveal the truth.
The hysterical laughter spiraled higher as his mind raced. Face murder charges in court, more or less worse depending on who sided with or against him on Cybertron, or throw it all away in a last-ditch attempt at restarting a war between the factions in faint hope that he'd win. What a choice! His loyalty lay with the Tripedicus Council, not Megatron. But to save himself…well, let it not be said that Tarantulas couldn't be clever under fire. He couldn't pretend belief in Megatron's cause, but he could very easily convince the tyrant he'd do anything to stay alive. That was a kind of mentality Megatron could understand.
Instead of working with the rat at Ravage's orders, then, he'd be killing the Maximal on sight. This was not exactly how he'd wanted Rattrap to die at his hands. In fact, he'd rather it didn't happen at all if it meant turning traitor on the Tripedicus Council. Circumstances, however, were less than ideal.
And the blame for that could be laid, irrationally at best, at the feet of Rhinox. "This is," he snarled, looking up from the puddle of goop that had once been flesh to meet the Maximal's dazed optics, "YOUR fault. A few minutes' difference and I wouldn't be forced to do this!" As he spoke, Tarantulas drew and checked his weapon. Rattrap wouldn't be an easy target to hit. "I'd prefer to leave this mudball and Megatron's petty schemes behind, but you're a dead 'bot waiting to happen--and who do you think will be the scapegoat for THAT?" Ignoring that he'd actually done the deed they'd condemn him for, but fear blocked out such small facts. He hadn't done anything WRONG, after all. "Uncooperative to the end," he grumbled. "Blasted Maximal. Even your death is inconvenient. Why couldn't you have waited five more minutes to walk into the trap?!"
Five minutes' difference and the acid could have been excised from Rhinox's body in time; messy and painful, but excusable as an aborted act of war done as a double agent. Such things had precedence in police history. Being caught killing someone against orders? Not so much.
A fit of cackling would have left a lesser mechanism shuddering with tension in its wake. Tarantulas' pincers were rock-steady. He didn't really believe that Megatron would win, even with his help. But at least he'd have earned the prison time instead of, ah, 'accidentally' falling into it. And they wouldn't take him without a fight.
A hissing gurgle drew his attention from the weapon he fiddled with so tensely. Static came from his victim's throat, as if he was trying to speak. Tarantulas cocked his head, curious. After the initial screams, he'd assumed Rhinox had fried his vocal circuitry. Apparently not, if the hoarse sounds breaking through the static were any indication. Temporary overload, it seemed. That could have been very…bad, if Rhinox had tried to speak while a communication channel had been open.
"What?" he snapped. "Last words? A plea for your friend?" The words were mocking, but he moved closer, genuinely curious as to what the Maximal would try to say. A spurt of liquid organic material--maybe skin or an internal organ before the acid got to it--came out of Rhinox's mouth, making the rhino choke. Garbled sounds preceded an actual word, and Tarantulas stepped closer yet. "What? Speak up!" That abruptly struck him as funny, and he couldn't help but snicker again.
Rhinox's optics blinked at his amusement, and this time a word cut through the static. "T-trap…"
Tarantulas' laughter cut off as he took a closer look at the Maximal scientist. While he'd usually dismiss the ramblings of a 'bot on death's door, he'd never underestimate Rhinox that way. What he'd mistaken as the glazed look of someone in excruciating pain actually appeared to be fierce concentration, the kind of look that produced life-saving miracles in the midst of a firefight. Obviously he wasn't just repeating back Tarantulas' own rant, and there was little chance the Maximal could be stupid enough to think he could warn the rat about Tarantulas' intentions from his position. That left a keen mind with nothing to lose that had just witnessed and analyzed everything he'd said and done since Agent Ravage had arrived on the planet.
An uneasy sense of being completely out of his depth swept through the Predacon. If he'd been in his beast mode, he'd have crouched where he stood, paralyzed by the feeling. The Cybertronian wanted to fight; the tarantula wanted to flee; both unexpectedly felt that the decision had just been taken from him.
If Rhinox had been a Predacon, Tarantulas would know what that meant. But he wasn't. Thus the stuttering, gasped words pulled the ground out from underneath him and left him staring in mute disbelief that anyone could possibly be so incredibly idealistic. He almost blurted out the questions hammering against the inside of his head, demanding to be let out, but if he asked, Rhinox might answer. If he answered, Tarantulas would have to kill him no matter the consequences, just to remain sane. The universe…it couldn't possibly function like this, with people who didn't acknowledge morals as optional. Even with the evidence glaring pained and determined into his very own optics, Tarantulas couldn't accept what he saw. Not forgiveness, no, the victim wasn't forgiving of his murderer, but Tarantulas suddenly felt very, very small before a judge and jury that had just cleared him of charges before the rest of his peers even knew he was up for trial, all for the sake of a higher purpose he'd been prepared to betray.
When a silent alarm tripped, signaling Rattrap's imminent arrival, the spider stumbled in his eagerness to get away from the glare that forced humility down his throat in a bitter draught. For someone who couldn't comprehend compassion, unintentional mercy shocked him to his knees. It flew in the face of everything he accepted as fact. It squashed his habitual urge to chuckle with the knowledge that the scientist he'd hated for succeeding despite his ethics was about to save him because of those same ethics.
Tarantulas had won the battle by killing Rhinox, and somehow, still, he'd lost the war.
He watched his murderer go through rapidly-fading vision, holding on by willpower alone as his body shut down. He held onto the lie, repeating the words over and over, ready to say them aloud. Untrue words about a trap gone wrong and a double agent who hadn't been able to save him despite their best efforts. Words that would be accepted as truth, rewriting the events of the last hour in the minds of those who hadn't witnessed it. He had to last long enough to tell his friend that the spider hadn't killed him. That was all. Tarantulas could manage to invent a believable lie from there, so long as Rhinox testified that it wasn't his fault. After all, no one would expect a victim to defend his murderer. Rattrap would believe him where no lie of the spider's would work.
Tarantulas didn't understand why a Maximal would do such a thing. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around a sacrifice for a greater good. He would never look beyond personal vengeance to see how a few straightforward words could stop a war. That was worth the cost of one petty killer's freedom.
The hardest thing a martyr ever does, Rhinox thought dimly, is die for a cause.
And no one would ever know…
.
.
I've rarely seen Rhinox and Tarantulas interact. I needed a ficlet to set up a rescue and future ficlet, so the setting had to be in the first season of Beast Wars, before Inferno, Blackarachnia, Tigatron, or Airazor arrived. It's a "what if" for Ravage's early arrival in the Beast Wars.
A myth about the Hippocratic Oath prompted the title and theme for the idea here: a Maximal doctor/scientist believes that above all, you must do no harm. Even dying, would Rhinox weigh the lives lost in a war against his own life? His first action is to do no harm, even if he has to lie to do it. That warps Tarantulas and his Predacon viewpoint enough that he tastes, perhaps for the first time, shame. But he doesn't want to admit it, because to admit it would make it real.
I think this might have stood alone as a fanfic if I'd developed it more, but I really only wanted to get the basics across as a prologue.