Fire of Youth
Chapter 41
Little bit of a rewrite of "Thirst": with Predaking and Co involved. I'm aware that Predaking's reveal last chapter and Thirst are technically vice versa in the actual episodes, but – my story my timeline. I super apologize for the long wait, I've been busy with internship stuffs. This'll be a long one to make up for the wait.
I have a serious, possibly unnerving question for ya'll: those claw-hook arm things that the zombies in Thirst used to feed, the ones that come outta their mouths – were they part of the mutation or is that actually what a Cybertronian "tongue" (or just some sort of feeding apparatus) looks like? Because I have a hard time believing that came outta nowhere...o_O
For once, Predaking did not dread the sound of the aerie doors opening. Killzone might have held the title of "beast trainer" according to the other officers, but he did not approach it that way. He approached it more like that of a colleague, willing to swap ideas via discourse rather than vaingloriously bash them into him. He would even bring charts to show various battle tactics, successful and not, used in the past. That was probably his favorite part about the change: examples of what to do and what not to do, all lessons from past battles that Killzone had bothered to internalize. Such an approach was so much more comprehensive and respectful of his intelligence. He was learning.
"So, in this sort of situation," Killzone went on, pointing at the holographic lecture board, "based on what you've learned so far, what would you do?"
Predaking eyed the display closely. The enemy had the high ground on a ridge and were well-armed. His side was below the ridge, comprised only of ground units; to complicate matters, he had also had been given a hypothetical crutch that forced him, the only flier present, to remain on the ground. The terrain, however, was slick from recent rain, and the ridge itself was comprised of rather flimsy sediment. The key point of information in his optics was that the enemy had to remain close to the edge to keep targets in sight.
"Attack the ridge itself," he answered. "Destabilize it. They will fall with the debris, thereby forcing a level confrontation."
"Right! Exactly!"
Predaking titled his helm. "But why handicap me?"
"You think the enemy won't target your wings? That's the easiest way to ground a flier. Because, no offense here – you're not exactly a small or subtle target, Predaking. Your beast mode is even bigger than Lord Megatron's alt. mode, and that bright amber wing mesh pretty much has a bullseye on it by default. Any good enough shot could hit them."
Predaking nodded. That was very true. He remembered all too well that very strategy had been employed more than once. It was lucky that his wings were so sturdy compared to those of the flight-capable soldiers, but Killzone clearly wasn't willing to ignore the chance of them being damaged enough to ground him. Very wise, he thought, to consider even supposedly remote possibilities. It was a wonder, really, that Killzone wasn't placed higher up the ranks. A keen mind like that was valuable. But perhaps Lord Megatron had him placed where he was with good cause. None of the other soldiers seemed quite so intelligent as he. By placing Killzone in charge of the flight units he had probably prevented some needless losses through basic common sense.
"Could you show me ano–"
He paused mid-sentence, abruptly.
"Predaking?" wondered Killzone.
He held a hand up to quiet him. An odd sound had reverberated through the halls outside the aerie. As he listened, it happened once again. Not a gurgle, not a hiss, not a scream, but some unsettling hybrid of all three. Before he had time to guess what it could have been, another oddity wafted in through vents: a pungent, sickly odor, sour and acrid that stung his olfactory sensors. That was new to him as well, and yet – not entirely. Part of the smell was familiar; he had detected it from Lord Megatron in the past, and occasionally from Starscream, too. He was curious, then, what the other half of the odor was. Was it something Shockwave had brought with him? He did vaguely remember the one-eyed scientist testing chemicals in his lab back on Cybertron.
"...Do you smell that?"
Killzone cocked his helm to the side. "No. What do you smell?"
"...I do not know."
"Smells artificial..." hissed the newest arrival to the aerie: the fiery, venom-tongued Draconian, Sizzleslash. Her prior wounds from her attacker rendered her unable to transform like the rest of them, something the Builder had unfortunately not been able to rectify.
Predaking turned to her, surprised. "Artificial?"
"Yes."
Impressive that she could discern artificial scents on a ship dominated by them. Her experience had to be vast compared to his.
"Do you have a match for it, then?" he wondered curiously.
The long-bodied Draconian femme shook her helm. She'd never smelled anything quite like it before: sour and rancid at the same time.
*Gotta agree with 'er. That donnae smell right..." whined Moonhowler anxiously after sniffing for it himself.
*And whatever that noise was wasn't a beast or a 'bot,* squawked Screech.
It was a minor miracle that both sides were actually agreeing on something for once. Either they were (finally) learning to tolerate each other or his efforts to instill order were at long last starting to reap benefits.
Killzone turned to Catscratch, lightly napping nearby without a care in the world. "Cat? Could you see what's up?"
The green hound at her side rose. *My nose is better than Cat's by a long shot. I'll track it doon."
"If there is danger, warp back here immediately," Predaking commanded.
Tag-Along huffed. "I know that. I ain't a namby."
VOIP. The green hound disappeared in a faint turquoise flash, though not far; he heard his paws pattering just beyond the aerie. He had to wonder if that was safe.
"Keep in the floor vents," he warned him. "I'll not have you taking chances until we know for certain what we're dealing with."
*Eh, that's fair.*
He heard the hound hop into the floor vents.
"Could it just be a leak from the ship? Maybe someone in maintenance had a slip-up," Killzone mused aloud.
Predaking frowned. "Whatever it is does not smell of the ship."
As much as Tag-Along didn't like Sizzleslash, he couldn't fault her senses. The smell was definitely not natural and definitely not being made by the ship itself. It was, however, coming from a certain area of the ship: Knockout's lab. That on its own wouldn't have been too weird on a normal day (the medic and the Builder were both known for playing with chemicals) but today, he feared, wasn't going to be normal. The weird noise he kept hearing pretty much proved that; it was also coming from around the general vicinity of lab.
The green hound lowered down into the floor vent and slunk along. He could hear trods nearby – soldiers, it sounded like – coming from an adjacent corridor. One set sounded a lot weightier than the others, and its gait was...odd. That set wasn't walking with the same swaying pattern as the others.
VOIP. He warped into the floor vent opposite him and kept going.
Then, he heard a shriek, a noise like armor being punctured, and a horrible gurgling sound. A round of blaster fire answered, only for it to be cut short with a shriek too, too.
Was the ship under attack? Why had no one raised the alarm, then?
He waited for the heavy-gaited individual to leave before going to where the attack had happened. Three soldiers lay dead on the floor. He sniffed at them and was stunned to find he could smell the strange scent not just on them, but in them. Stranger still, they had not been attacked with any weapon he knew of: no blaster marks, no sword swipes, slashes, or even gouges from mauls or hammers. Instead, there was only a large puncture in their upper torso made by...he wasn't sure. But whatever had done so had punctured hard enough to warp the metal inward, and deep enough to reach a major Energon line – except there wasn't even enough Energon left in the soldier to allow for a major leak.
Drained, he realized. They all were. Drained so completely their sparks had snuffed out.
*Vigordrainer!* he barked angrily.
*What?*
*There are three dead soldiers drained dry. Care to explain?*
*I take it you aren't accusing me, then?*
*Someone else did this. I heard them.*
*How were they drained?*
*Some sort of puncture? Right around the spark chamber?*
*That's not how Siphons feed, dog. Siphoning from there is guaranteed to kill our meal too soon, and no one likes cold, stale Energon.*
Tag-Along backed up when one of the soldiers made a low groaning noise. Then, to his shock, the soldier began to move in a horrible, unnatural manner, like they were a joint-less puppet. There was no way they should've been able to move with so little Energon in their body, and yet – they did. Not speedily or agilely but still, they moved. The green hound's audials pinned back as the other two started their unnatural rise. They all took one look at him, gave out a hissing, gurgling cry, whereupon strange claw-hooks on long extendable "things" burst from where he guessed the soldiers' mouths would have been under their full-face visors. Each apparatus looked like a nightmarish proboscis melded with an arcade claw machine arm.
All three soldiers lunged at him.
Tag-Along yelped and bounded into the floor vent before any of them could grab him. Hands swept in after him. Tag-Along warped further down the vent and activated his weak camouflage field for good measure. Eventually, lacking the keen sense of smell he had, the soldiers lurched away in search of something else to attack. But he didn't dare move until they were well out of ear-shot.
He knew it would probably be foolish, but Tag-Along decided to find the heavy-gaited individual who had caused this.
The hound snuck through the floor vents until he found them: a big blue and grey individual, very much looking the worse for wear. He had a Decepticon badge, so he wasn't an enemy, but then why had he attacked fellow Decepticons? Further, he could tell the mech was following something – and that something turned out to be voices. Recognizable voices, whispering. Knockout and Starscream. How odd to hear them whispering; they were usually very loud, especially Starscream. He strained his audials to listen:
"–ou think he's gotten?"
"He's burning through Energon so rapidly, he can't have gotten far. If we shut the bulkheads –"
"No!" hissed Starscream. "We need to keep this quiet, Knockout."
"Is keeping it quiet more important than keeping it contained?" retorted the red medic.
"Yes!"
Tag-Along reined in the urged to growl. So they knew something about this. And Starscream, as usual, wasn't willing to fess up to it.
The two Decepticons kept walking (at a cautious pace, he noted). They were headed back in the direction Tag-Along had come, but in a hallway parallel to the one the big blue and grey mech was following. Unfortunately, Knockout and Starscream were not alone; he could hear more soldiers (unaffected ones) coming their way, unaware of the danger. The big blue and grey mech apparently judged those soldiers to be more tempting prey and switched course into another hall to follow them. He heard the soldiers flail as their pursuer pounced. After seeing what had happened the first time, he wouldn't dare risk himself by intervening – not alone. But he didn't run back to the aerie; he kept up after the soldiers. Knockout and Starscream were on an unintended collision course with them. Could they not hear them?
Bloody moderns with their terrible senses, he thought ruefully.
Tag-Along caught up with the soldiers just as they turned a corridor where Knockout and Starscream were creeping along. Once they saw the soldiers, they yelped, which told the soldiers they were prey.
He burst out of the floor vent, warped past the soldiers, and bounded for the two commanding officers.
*Catch me!* he barked over short-band.
"What?" demanded Starscream.
He repeated his words before jumping at Knockout. Thankfully, the red medic caught him.
*Touch Knockout!*
With one arm primed to fire a missile, Starscream used his other arm to tap Knockout's shoulder.
VOIP!
Turquoise light engulfed all three of them just as the soldiers lunged. Once it faded, they found themselves back in the aerie.
Starscream was shocked. "You...did you just...?"
"Tag-Along, report," demanded Predaking.
Tag-Along transformed. "We were right to be suspicious. Something's up. These two know something about it."
When Predaking turned a critical optic to them both, each mech smiled nervously.
"What did you two do this time?" deadpanned Killzone.
"Watch your tone," snapped Starscream, only to shut his mouth very fast when Predaking's look quickly became hostile over his own tone.
Reluctantly, Knockout informed Predaking of the situation. According to him, some experiment called "Silas" had gone wrong and the result of it seemed to be a virulent infection. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked or spread, but if he were to guess, it was the Dark Energon in the concoction – which had been Starscream's suggestion. The idea had been to make a Dark Energon/Syth-En hybrid fuel that would allow for increased performance while allowing Megatron to control the subject at will, possibly allowing for sturdier resurrections. The actual result had been...well, not that.
"Why the scrap do you keep messing with that stuff?! Nothing good ever comes of it!" cried Killzone.
"It was his idea, not mine!" protested Knockout. "I warned him of possible complications! He didn't listen!"
"If there is an artificial plague spreading on the ship," growled Predaking, "we must alert Lord –"
"No!" hissed Starscream.
Predaking gave him a look.
The grey Seeker Captain chuckled nervously, "Let's...not involve Lord Megatron with this little mishap. He has more important things to worry about."
*More important than his army being infected by plague?* growled Ravage.
"Why haven't you shut the corridor bulkheads?" demanded Killzone. "We can stem the spread easily that way."
Starscream answered only with a nervous little chirp. That sound stated what he would not: that closing the bulkheads would alert the whole ship, including Megatron, to the problem he had created. But Knockout clarified that one in charge of ship security, Soundwave, was temporarily off-site gathering intelligence. Without his input, the ship wouldn't recognize its own inhabitants as targets, much less shut bulkheads on its own.
Killzone put a hand to his helm. "Alright. If we're not able to corral them, we need to find a way to kill the carriers so they stop spreading the infection."
"Uhhh...problem," Tag-Along began. "I don't think the infected are alive anymore. They got drained completely, then revived, and now they're acting like they've got the Hunger or something. I think they spread it while trying to feed."
"Oh, peachy. So being undead is actually contagious now," snarled the red medic. "Thanks, Starscream. You just unleashed a zombie plague on the crew!"
Starscream sputtered, "Undead can be killed. We have done it before. This should be no different!"
"Except for the fact they're contagious," Knockout testily reminded him, "which won't stop till we get rid of the source carrier."
"Then we must remove the carriers swiftly, before the ship is overrun," declared Predaking. "Ramhorn, Screech, divide into teams and locate the secondary carriers. Knockout will lead another team with Killzone and I to dispatch the source carrier. If either team is overwhelmed, retreat here where we can fortify."
"Out of the question! What if you get infected?!" shrieked Starscream.
"Simple. I keep my distance," grunted Predaking. "I believe you once said that if you want something killed quickly, that I am the best option. Or would you rather face these plague-bringers alone?"
Knockout cast a glance towards Killzone that was half-way alarmed and half-way impressed. "You've been teaching him strategy."
Killzone huffed, "You're welcome."
"Who gave you the right to issue commands?" demanded Starscream of him.
"You caused this by giving a bad order," growled Predaking. "You thus ceded the right to issue orders until further notice."
The grey Seeker drew himself up, offended. "I am hardly the only guilty party here, beast! If Knockout hadn't – mff!"
Predaking cut him short by grabbing his lower face with one giant hand, after which he hefted him up and carried him as far away from the main doors as he could, where he set him back down with a grunt and a glare. Starscream himself was torn between shock and deep offense as Predaking swept past him. Killzone quickly whispered something into Predaking's audial.
"You need me for my ranged capabilities," the grey Seeker protested, pointing at his missiles.
Predaking ceded to the suggestion and motioned him to follow. He was right. Starscream's missiles would provide an advantage. Distance was vital. And the cowardly idiot probably needed protection, too.
"A beast giving me orders," Starscream huffed quietly after they left. "If it weren't so offensive I'd be –"
Sizzleslash hissed at him. Starscream yelped before deeming it better not to finish his sentence. He quickly darted after Knockout.
At the very least, Predaking thought, it was not hard to find anyone infected. They left a stinking trail wherever they went: sour and rancid, like Sizzleslash had described. The problem, he realized, was that it made it rather difficult to tell who was who. He couldn't tell if he was tracking a secondary carrier or the source itself. Everyone infected smelled the same. He admitted as such to his allies.
"This is the last time I ever let you into my lab," the red medic huffed at Starscream. "We'll be lucky if Lord Megatron doesn't have our heads for this..."
Predaking growled. Starscream's head, he thought privately, was probably warranted.
"How about just not messing with the dark stuff, yeah?" deadpanned Killzone.
"I told him not to!" hissed Knockout. "He overrode me!"
"Quiet," snapped Predaking softly. "The more noise you make the easier it will be for them to find us."
"But we want them to find us so we can exterminate them," grumped Starscream. "The sooner the better."
"Not if they swarm us from all sides," corrected Knockout tersely.
"Do we know if they've multiplied that quickly?" wondered Predaking, secretly alarmed.
"An infection spreads exponentially, Predaking," clarified Knockout grimly. "Even if, hypothetically, Silas had only infected one trooper, those two carriers would go on to infect eight, those eight would infect sixteen, and so on. Simply put, the more who are exposed, the faster it will spread. Putting that sort of exponential spread inside a contained environment like the warship only serves to hasten its progress. Really, our only saving grace is that the infected victims don't move very quickly."
Killzone ran the numbers in his head. That would mean, he realized in some horror, that if they didn't stop the spread or make an attempt to slow it down, the entire crew would be infected in under two hours – and that estimate had to be lowered because the countdown timer had already started.
"Are you sure we shouldn't tell Lord Megatron?" Killzone asked again.
"If we did he would undoubtedly hold us responsible," clipped Starscream.
"But we are!" retorted Knockout, confounded.
"Hush!" hissed Predaking. "Both of you!"
Knockout fell quiet.
They rounded a corner to find a group of Vehicons milling in the hallway. Curiously, Predaking did not see them speaking to each other. They were silent.
"You there! Have you noticed anything strange –" began Starscream.
Predaking's optics narrowed as a foul smell assailed him. "Wait..."
The troopers turned in a slow, sluggish, unnatural manner. A low hissing gurgle came from their throats.
"–in this sector...?" whimpered the grey Seeker as the realization hit him.
"Run!" cried Knockout.
The infected troopers hissed and lurched after them. Both commanding officers turned tail and fled with frightened shrieks.
Predaking transformed to spew a column of flame at them. Some backed off, though the remainder of the soldiers lurched through.
"Predaking! Fall back!" barked Killzone.
His new trainer offered some cover fire. Before running, he spun around and bashed his tail into the group to send them slamming into the wall. He gave a short screech to Killzone as he ran by. He didn't ask Killzone to hop aboard, nor make any indication that he should, but the soldier did anyway. He decided to let his presumptive action slide for the time being; at any rate, riding on him at least made it easier to know where he was.
They all ducked around into another corridor. Killzone quickly jumped off.
"So, they're sturdier. That's a problem," noted Killzone in a low voice.
"The synthetic energon, no doubt," grumbled the grey Seeker.
One trooper came lurching around the corner with its frightening mouth-claw.
"Aim for the head!" cried Knockout, backing away.
"What? How do you know?!" demanded Starscream.
"I've seen human horror films!"
Starscream gave the red medic a truly bizarre look.
"At drive-in theaters!" he added impatiently.
Starscream primed one of his missiles and fired it at the lead undead. But when the dust faded, it still kept coming, now headless. The mouth-claw stuck out of its neck cavity like some bizarre serpent. Very briefly, Predaking let himself be visibly disturbed. What sort of nightmare had these two begot onto the ship?!
"Forget the head! Aim for the spark!" shrieked Starscream.
Predaking transformed and spat a fireball at the trooper. When that didn't quite work, Starscream fired a high-powered volley from his blasters that ripped right through the target. For good measure, Predaking spewed flame into the open chest cavity. The smell of burning (an awful smell, too) said the corrupt mix inside had been set alight.
The trooper did not rise again. The red medic knelt near them cautiously, but they remained still.
"No Energon, no re-animation," concluded Knockout.
Not a moment later, a high frequency screech and howl assailed his audials, one that made Starscream and Knockout flinch and cringe. Moonhowler and Screech must have found another set of infected carriers. Each reported that sound seemed to be a decent way to immobilize them; the problem was that none of them had ranged capabilities like fire-breath to actually take them down.
Knockout started, wide-eyed. "Yes, you do. Tag-Along, warp your team into my lab. There should be some acid-resistant test tubes in the cabinets. Grab as many as you can carry and take them to Floodshed."
*Acid grenades!* cheered the black she-devil. *Good call, doc!*
"They're quick to catch on," noted Knockout with an odd not-quite-pride.
"She is, anyway," agreed Killzone in good humor.
"Oh, sure, give them ideas. That'll turn out well..." mumbled Starscream under his breath.
A hiss alerted that their pursuers were still coming.
Starscream yelped and fled – or tried to. Predaking grabbed him before he could get two paces away.
"Stand your ground. We defeat these, that removes more carriers," he grunted at him.
Starscream whimpered but readied his blasters. Killzone did the same while Predaking himself transformed. Knockout held a hand up to hold fire only until the carriers had rounded the corner via that unnerving lurching gait of theirs. Once each faced them, he gave the order:
"Fire!"
Flame and blaster fire ravaged their attackers. They, too, did not rise again either.
"Well, at least we know this method works..." muttered the medic as he checked them to be sure.
"From here on out, stay quiet," hissed Predaking. "Killzone and I will protect your flank."
Both mechs eyed each other. Knockout tried to take the lead but Starscream took point instead. Predaking transformed and followed them on the alert, this time, for sound as well as smell. Killzone followed him walking backwards, blasters ready. When they passed by where a bulkhead was designed to clang down, Knockout paused just long enough for Predaking to notice him staring at the slot panels.
A hiss from the intersection warned of more victims. The two mechs broke into a panicked sprint.
"In there!"
They all sprinted into a side chamber. Killzone shut the door and killed the lights. Predaking took up a defensive coil in front of them. Starscream's nervous expression softened by a fraction of a degree, though he very nearly yelped when a giant amber wing draped over him, Killzone, and Knockout to better shield them. They listened to the victims shamble by the door, gurgling and hissing. When Starscream made to whimper, Predaking put his tail tip against his mouth with a warning glare. Another supersonic cry pierced through the corridors outside, at which point Starscream began to look panicked.
"If they keep that racket up, Megatron will know for sure!"
A light went off in the red medic's optics.
"Catscratch?" whispered Knockout. "I have an idea...but I need you and Screech to coordinate for it to work."
"Ew! No way am I working with the flying bilge-rat!" the feline spat back over the line.
Knocked let out a frustrated hiss, "Look, you won't even be in the same area if you do this right. Now, listen closely..."
Working with Screech. Peh. Catscratch would rather throw herself into a smelting pit, given the chance.
But at least the plan Knockout had told her was a decent one. Soundwave wasn't there to control most ship functions, true, but that didn't mean someone else couldn't do so themselves. They just had to get Megatron far enough away from Soundwave's control room near the bridge so she could mess with them in peace. That's what Screech was for: rather than stop her cries like Starscream wanted, they would be the bait (and still a good way of disabling the zombies to boot).
She ducked lower into the vent when Megatron strolled out of the bridge. Once he cleared the corner, she leapt out and skittered into Soundwave's control room. A vast control panel full of glowing input keys glittered like a jewel cave.
"Ooooh," she breathed. "Pretty..."
Her smile turned into a smirk. A happy giggle escaped.
"Right. Now, let's see. What does this do...?"
She hit an input key. An alarm blared.
"Scrap!"
She hit it again. It stopped. She looked behind her, skittish. The door was still closed. Once she was sure she was safe, she checked the viewing screen. A horde of the infected, thirty strong, was on the move through "Sector 2B" in the ship.
"2B, 2B, 2B..." her hands hovered over the input keys.
Though her Kaonian was rusty, Catscratch input a command that she hoped would close one of the 2B bulkheads. One did, crushing four zombies beneath it.
The little black femme cheered. "Yes! How'd you like that, you brainless ninnies?!"
Another clang, and the second bulkhead crushed three more who were in the lead. The remainder were trapped like pigs in a holding pen.
Catscratch cackled and set out checking security feed. Maybe she could find the source zombie, trap him and –
A growl stayed her hand. Her little green optics widened as a reflection appeared in the display screen.
"Catscratch..." came Megatron's terrifying scratchy growl of a voice.
She whirled, hands behind her, green optics as wide and innocent as she dared make them.
"You wouldn't happen to be playing another of your little 'games', would you?" he wondered in that scary polite-but-also-ready-to-murder-a-glitch tone.
"What? Pfft! No, not all," she smiled nervously. "I was just uh...checking for...someone...who maybe isn't supposed to be walking around...?"
"Really? And who might that be?" he asked in a truly disbelieving way.
Her nervous smile faltered.
When his deeply suspicious glower started to turn murderous, Catscratch decided to play safe.
"Taggy! Code red! Code red! I've been had!" she hissed into her comm. link.
Turquoise light enveloped her, leaving his hand to snatch at empty air. When the glare faded, she was safely tucked inside one of the floor vents with Tag-Along at her side. That she could still hear Megatron meant Tag-Along hadn't warped her very far, and maybe for good reason. While listening in, she could almost hear Megatron's expression go from angry to more like a murderous "Huh?" Soon enough the big mech himself came stomping by their hiding place in a right angry tizzy. Catscratch dared peek her head out just as he disappeared around a corner.
"You think he knows?" wondered Tag-Along.
"With that bad attitude? Probably," she mewled back.
Tag-Along's right audial twitched. "Maybe that's a good thing."
Predaking was getting frustrated. Every time he thought he had found the source carrier, it turned out to merely be more infected victims. Why did this blasted infection make everyone smell the same?! And it wasn't like he was able to barge through the warship looking for the source; Starscream in particular was adamant he stay with them. If he got infected, they would all be doomed. For once, he actually believed him.
Knockout growled at the scanner in his hands. "Useless! Can't even track him by spark signal because he doesn't have one!"
"Meaning he could be right behind us?" whimpered Starscream. "I'm hearing footsteps..."
The grey Seeker whipped around to find an empty corridor. He backed around the corner – directly into a towering grey form.
Starscream and Knockout both yelped.
"Would either of you two care to explain why Silas is wandering my ship, attacking my army?!"
"Allow me to handle this," Starscream whispered to the red medic, only to form a mischievous smirk. "It's Knockout's fault!" he declared.
"Precisely, my – WHAT?!"
"He was experimenting with Synth-En and decided to – ah!" Starscream found himself dangling by his head in Predaking's grip.
Predaking growled, "A reckless experiment went awry and is now wandering your vessel, draining whatever bodies it comes across and in the process infecting victims with a highly virulent, artificial plague. Both of them had a hand in its inception."
"What are you going on about?" the great grey mech demanded of him. "What plague?"
Knockout nervously started his explanation, but Starscream cut him off not even a full sentence in to point a quivering digit behind his leader. Megatron urged Knockout to keep talking but the red medic's words quickly died in his throat as he too spotted the problem: a lone soldier had wandered in with that same tell-tale shambling gait. When Megatron turned to look, it didn't click right away until the soldier spat out that strange arcade-claw proboscis and charged them all.
Megatron killed it with one high-powered blast from his cannon. Then he turned back to them, even angrier than he'd been before.
"Eheh. That plague," squeaked Starscream.
Megatron snarled before having a groundbridge open near him. The portal led them to the bridge where Soundwave was hooked directly into the ship via his cables.
Knockout was prompted with one look to give a full report. Lord Megatron, very briefly, looked genuinely puzzled.
"If you added Dark Energon to this concoction, why can I not control them?"
"I can only speculate on that, my liege, but I would assume the synthetic component is somehow interfering with your link," the red medic stated. "Why and how I'm not entirely sure."
A frustrated growl escaped. Soundwave was ordered to put the ship on high alert. With the aid of the mini-beasts, he was to attempt further to corral the infected to prevent continued spread. Any still-healthy soldiers were to shoot the infected on sight. Knockout and Starscream were thus frightened out of the room with the order to dispatch Silas himself. Neither were very enthused about it; they knew to take the experiment out, the problem was tracking it down. If their "ultimate hunter" couldn't track it, they grumbled outside the bridge, what chance did Megatron think they had?
"We don't need smell," Killzone argued. "We've got eyes all over the ship. Scout teams? Any sign of Silas?"
"Is that the big blue fella's name? Aye. Spotted the ugly lug headin' for the brig!" Ramhorn reported. "He left us some of his cronies to fight! We're pinned! Can't pursue!"
Coincidence? wondered Predaking. Or was this Silas creature consciously trying to slow pursuit?
"Scrap!"
Killzone hopped onto Predaking's back once more. Predaking promptly bounded off.
"How come he gets to hitchhike?!" demanded Starscream.
*He's earned it. You haven't,* Predaking grunted back.
The grey Seeker grumbled, transformed and shot after him down the hall. Knockout followed suite. They quickly discovered en route that healthy soldiers and Insecticons were already engaging the infected.
"He sent the Insecticons to fight them?" gasped Starscream. "Of all the foolhardy –! And I thought involving the Predacons was a terrible idea!"
"Just go! Gripe about it later!" barked Knockout.
"If there is a later!"
"Oh, and whose fault is that, hm?!"
Corridors rang with blaster fire and sealing bulkheads as he led the other two mechs onward. Eventually, the latter noise ceased and the former became a muffled echo. Predaking worried for Killzone's brethren, for they were functionally trapped with the infected. He had to wonder how much time the Insecticons' brute might would buy them; no matter how strong the bugs were, they weren't invincible. And if the bugs became infected...Onyx help them. Insecticons had a hive mind according to Killzone. They could coordinate in a way the regular soldiers couldn't.
"Come on, come on!" urged Killzone.
Predaking skidded around into the brig corridor just as the tip of something black disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall. He thought for a brief second it must have been Catscratch, but the smell that met him was all wrong. He didn't recognize it at all.
When the brig doors hissed open as he ran past, Killzone stiffened.
"Woah! Back up, back up!"
He turned around and headed back for the brig. Killzone hopped off and, gun raised, headed in first, with Knockout and Starscream at either side.
"Guard the door," Knockout ordered.
Predaking grunted. He would have stayed outside but when he heard Knockout suck in a hiss of air, he was too curious to help himself. He craned his neck in to investigate, only to be confused. Off to one side of the room, the blue plague-bringer lay unresponsive on the floor, its chest ruptured open. Inside, also unresponsive, was a tiny organic covered in sewn seams.
*Dead?* he demanded.
"Looks to be," confirmed Knockout, not sounding at all relieved.
How odd. Who had killed him then? No one else was in the room.
"Uh...doc?" prompted a worried Killzone.
"What?"
Killzone pointed to an egg-like pod that was open. Worry in the air spiked into full-fledged alarm.
Starscream swore.
"So who wants to tell Lord Megatron?" Killzone asked.
Knockout grunted "Ahem!" at Starscream, who whimpered but opened a line to the bridge anyway. His ensuing flinch told him Megatron wasn't happy about this "Airachnid" getting loose, not that Predaking had any idea why. He was more curious about who had let her out. Silas? Was that even a possibility considering he had been undead? Killzone and Knockout both had made it sound like undead were mindless husks, incapable of complex thought. And how had he even known the release code for the pod?
Predaking shook his head, confused.
*I can stop her –*
*No.* Megatron growled back. *Tag-Along and Soundwave will deal with her. Focus on the horde, Predaking.*
*Understood.*
He plodded back out into the hall and demanded the positions of the two mini-beast teams. Ramhorn's team was nearest, so it was towards them he ran.
He and his companions found the mini-beasts locked in a fight with thirty infected soldiers. Mysteriously, there were no Insecticons helping them like he thought there would be. Thanks to the acid grenades, they weren't struggling as much as they might have. One well-aimed vial from Moonhowler melted a soldier's mouth-claw off, and a sturdy hit from Ramhorn's horns nearly caved its chassis in. But the horde kept lurching forward.
*Stand back!*
Once they were clear, he reared up and spewed a column of flame. The horde split in two. While their front ranks were stunned, he spun, swinging his tail. One soldier tried to rush him only to find its chest impaled by his tail. That soldier was then flung into its own ranks.
*Brace yerselves!* warned Moonhowler.
He barely managed to shut off his audials before the infected soldiers reeled from Moonhowler's sonic cry. Knockout, Starscream, and Killzone relentlessly opened fire, sending round after high-powered round into the victims while fire burned them from the inside out. Eventually, their hissing, gurgling ruckus died down. The hall was left with a pile of deactivated corpses, scorched black and reeking of smouldering infection. But they were dead – for good.
There was a very abrupt silence in the ship after that victory. It took Predaking a moment to discern why: the Insecticons had gone completely silent. No more did their haunting cries echo through the warship.
Was that a sign of victory? he wondered.
He was angry – furious, really. Killzone could hear Megatron beyond the doors where he was berating both commanding officers with near equal hostility. By the time they'd manage to contain it, half their military force had been killed by their experiment-gone-rogue. All of the remaining Insecticons were gone too, ported to one of Cybertron's moons with their "queen" Airachnid. Just like that. Half their forces, gone. Ironic, and maybe a bit poetic, that a self-made disease had done more damage to them than the Autobots ever had.
Predaking waited anxiously at his side. The littler beasts were all tucked into the various vents listening in. Catscratch in particular was making sure no one inside caught them eavesdropping.
"And need I remind you, doctor, that as the ship's medic, you report and answer to Shockwave. Not Starscream."
"U-understood, my liege."
Knockout was thus ordered to work directly with Shockwave to help Project Predacon along. They needed those beastly super-soldiers now more than ever.
"Soundwave at the very least managed to gather something worthwhile during his reconnaissance mission," Megatron growled. "You had best hope it bears fruit, lest I tear you both apart myself."
Worthwhile? What had Soundwave found?
"Ch! Go go go! Knockout's going for the door!" warned Catscratch.
Killzone quickly left. Predaking trailed after him. When they rounded a corner and resumed an inconspicuous pace, Knockout briskly walked past them both, muttering to himself.
*Is something wrong, doctor?* the beast asked politely.
A panicked, terrified screech came from the bridge. Knockout picked up his pace, but then stopped mid-stride. He debated something for a moment, then gave Tag-Along a simple order: "get him out of there." Megatron swore loudly when Tag-Along obeyed. But none of them saw the grey warlord come storming down the hall like a monsoon.
When Killzone led Predaking to the aerie, Starscream was huddled behind Sizzleslash, the serpentine dragon femme tolerating him – just barely.
I'm aware Thirst is like the pinnacle of Prime story-telling. This doesn't even come close to the original, I'm aware.
