Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own Transformers. I just like hounding their giant robots.
Warnings: None. No idea what I'm doing but writing feels good.
"A Moment You'll Never Remember"
"What's a Dread?"
The unsure tone in her voice had Jazz pausing. He had a few more tune ups to do on his weaponry—but that's what multitasking was for.
Jazz looked over to the drowsy youngling sketching something or the other but moving as if the stylus was weighted in tons. It seemed like the dummy gun taped to her back was the only thing holding her up.
He met visors with Prowl across the Praxian's quarters.
~ She dosed with anything? ~ he asked privately.
~ No. ~ Prowl gave him a flat, accusatory glare. ~ Just a long cycle. ~
Jazz huffed.
It had been. He'd been with Ratchet and 'Sides when the first call came through. Another Predacon.
It was an unspoken rule that there were no lone travelers, especially Predas. And there hadn't been. Jazz just never expected it would have been the Elite Trine traveling with them. The pure panic that seized the bond took a few cycles off his spark.
The E Trine could have decimated their whole squad in under a joor, split up as they were. 'Hide's team was at a fatal disadvantage with a panicking rookie.
Then there was the freaky Seeker with what looked like gelled lightning under her plating.
And if four Seekers were bad, an overgrown chopper was worse.
But Blackout stayed out of the fight.
The Predas seemed content to just maim instead of kill.
To hear Prime talk, they'd caught Starscream on a good cycle. The lead Seeker just felt like being petty and they lived another joor without major incident.
Then the wolf called Cieve had mentioned the Dread.
Cypress had given a surprisingly coherent account, including that disturbing tidbit. They'd barely heard it. Kid wouldn't even look up from the floor. Helluva introduction to the field; she got the chew-toy treatment.
Jazz couldn't help the warning that appeared in his HUD.
Liability, Severe.
He forwarded it to Prowl without a second thought.
~ Okay. ~ the Praxian shuffled his wings discreetly. ~ Do what you need to. ~
Finally.
~ Sure you won't get broody about it? ~
~ No unauthorized poisons. ~
~ Fine…y'all are so suspicious. ~
Jazz finally shrugged, "They're an urban legend. Supposed to work in along with Terrorcons and Predacons to keep Cybertron's balance."
Prowl added, "Common enough tale. Probably a local phrase for them."
"Like how aliens are legends and tales," Cypress stopped sketching to point her stylus at Bumblebee, "Like how he's not real."
"I resent that." Bee hissed, halfway through a stolen bag of goodies. The kid's cheeks were puffed out like a squirrels. His mod's energy drain was no joke.
"And Cieve was mad, like unreasonably mad, at me for some reason. It's stupid, but I think she's right for it. Voltage acts like she knows me."
Jazz didn't have to come up with a cover, Bee unwittingly did that for him.
"And some people are just crazy afts. A triple changing Seeker and maxed out with mods? Recipe for disaster."
Prowl sighed, "I believe you have a grasp of cultural differences? You're an oddity, she reacted as such."
Cypress hummed, finishing her rough sketch. Not the streamline form they'd seen on Voltage, but a hulking quadruped, distinctly not flight capable.
"I dunno…I feel like I've seen her alt somewhere. Like this one too."
Prowl and Bee went rigid at the same time Cypress started fussing with her temples.
That was most defiantly something… His two doorwingers never had been able to get a good description of the thing that attacked them on Earth.
"C'mon, enough shop talk. Bee, come on we're going to teach you how to use that accordion instrument."
Amid the other two muting their audios, Jazz took an image capture of her little doodle.
Just in case there was more to it.
And Jazz was becoming surer of it by the joor.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Cypress weathered the sharp kink in her neck as she watched Optimus' mask bob up down as he gave out orders.
"Ship detail?" Bee groaned.
A significant weight lifted off her chest. No missions.
Why he was upset, Cypress could guess. It meant no driving time but, there would be no Decepticons.
Optimus raised an optic ridge. "You still want to go out, even after yesterday?"
"Yes. We know what we're up against!"
The giant mech humored him. "And you have the means to fight them successfully?"
"No," Bee said quietly, then nudged Cypress, clearly asking for backup.
He desperately wanted to be as competent as Prime, reality be damned.
Unfortunately, one of them had to play at being reasonable.
"None of the Predas smell like anything." Cypress repeated flatly. "And two of the wolves have the same rank. Who has a team with everyone in the same rank?"
"Shh!" Bee hissed back.
"Well, where's the alpha then? If I were them, I wouldn't follow Stars cream. Their audios have to be ringing."
"Call him that to his face and he'll slit your throat. Starscream. All together. Don't you want to go back outside?"
"Ha! Not on this planet."
Optimus glanced down, "I don't like the idea of that one Seeker expressing so much interest in you. They've been known to act bizarrely."
Conflicted pale optics flashed into her minds eye again.
"She seems nice enough, just lonely." Cypress clapped a servo over her mouth.
Bee cocked his helm, "Where did that come from?"
"I don't know! She makes me feel—off. My helm fuzzes over."
"High amounts of electricity will do that." He shrugged.
Neither of them elected to go into further detail.
Optimus spoke, "Not shooting you is the bare requirement of nice and as I recall, Bumblebee, you still have reduced sensitivity in your wings. All the more reason for you both to stay onboard."
"Yes sir," she nodded, then nudged Bee stopping his brewing protest.
His plating resettled droopily. "We'll do our best."
Five kliks after their 'reenforced' crew left, Bee was pacing along the nearest wall. Instead of helping clear space for energon, he was scraping a peeling cabinet with a digit on each pass.
Cypress pinned her audials back and Ratchet snapped his digits.
"Bumblebee. Quit."
"I can't believe they left us!"
"You're walking ransom pieces; I can." Ratchet put in.
"But Raaatch…"
"Don't start with me, youngling."
Bee made a semi adorable pout and turned back to her, "You really don't wanna fight them?"
"Not on purpose." Something subconsciously made her flare her plating. "I'd live a long and happy life if I never saw them again."
A truth. Mostly. If wanting to stalk and observe them instead of strictly wanting nothing to do with them made sense.
But Cieve humiliated her on purpose and her intent was clear no matter the species.
You're not welcome here.
Strange enough, that bothered her more than Sunstreaker's robo-cidal outburst.
Not even an hour with another Preda and she'd already ruined her chances of fitting in. Her claws curled into the strange metal of the crate without much thought.
She really shouldn't care, yet some growing part of her ached.
Cypress slammed another crate down, then again for good measure.
"Unless you like third-degree burns, take it out on the empty crates. Not that one." Ratchet deadpanned.
She extracted her claws with some difficultly, leaving behind streaks of venom.
"They think I'm a pet," she finally said.
"Why wouldn't they?" The medic responded. "If it barks like a fox…"
"Not everyone has the luxury of growing up knowing the rules of interaction. You have any cheat codes to dealing with that?"
Ratchet ticked off pointers on his digits, leaning over his own cluster of crates. "Don't show weakness, ride the line of 'will kick your skidplate' and 'deference to their ability'. When all else fails, threats of severe violence normally work. When all else fails, make good on it."
Cypress canted her helm, "You're a healer."
"I also ran an all-altmodes clinic in Hyra; I don't put up with slag. Works for everyone."
Cypress sighed, absently running her glossa over her most prominent fangs. Nearly slicing the tip reminded of what they could do.
"Bee, I need to fix your alt mode."
"Huh?"
"You look like someone scrapped a Camaro and welded it into cat."
His doorwings drew up in outrage, "I did that on the fly!"
"And it shows. Siddown." She jerked a thumb at the nearest crate they could use like a table. "There's no way you can get through wooded terrain. You need to tuck your wings."
Still playing at indignation he huffed, "Give me some credit…I can make it work. I don't have another alt and you can't magic another one up."
"But I've got an active imagination and you're flexible."
Bee paused, "Did you ever finish transformation theory with Ratch?"
Cypress stared off at the neighboring wall as if it held the answers to the universe.
Ratchet cast her a sardonic look, "I don't know, did you?"
"The pictures were nice…" she trailed. And they had been. It was all she could make sense of; the medical jargon was dense. Half of it was in Iaconian and the other seemed to be in a script that didn't look like it should be read out loud. Still Cypress shrugged, "Anyway, it has to be better than whatever you came up with."
They both glanced over at Ratchet who spread his servos out before him. "Don't mind me, I want to see where this is going. When you inevitably give yourself internal trauma, someone's going to have to fix it."
Bee groaned slightly even as he pulled back his wrist cover. "What did you have in mind?"
"You'd like a felid form?"
He nodded vigorously.
"Oh. Well, no one's perfect."
Bumblebee elbowed her. "Aren't you on a roll today, Ms. I'm-going-to-leave-my-gun -and-run?"
"Shuddup. You're positive about this one? Pick something that feels right."
"Could a rabbit work?"
Ratchet cut him off immediately. "There's a good reason there's not many non-predatory Predas."
"Why?"
"Pet trade, infighting, really sick jokes. Trust me, kid, you want a tougher looking alt."
Cypress moved a good chunk of potential alt designs back into the practice file.
"Cheetah?"
"Fast, but delicate. You'll never last an assault from a stronger Preda and there's too much plating to spare. You need a wide enough alt to accommodate your doorwings. Your frame doesn't go slink, you're thick. Sturdier."
"Was that a compliment?"
"Or it might be an insult."
He scooted around to her side of the makeshift table, "Throw something else in. The one that's a vehicle too."
"Jaguar. Excellent bite force, but heavier frame. It should handle close to your original alt."
She overlaid both hypothetical modes and meshed them together by hand with a few tweaks. His mod would handle the most serious of the process, but since it wasn't an actual thing that existed to be scanned. Cypress didn't want to take any chances.
Bumblebee crowded over her shoulder, "Why are all the notes in English?"
"Because Cy-stan takes too long to write."
"It's faster than that gibberish."
Cypress meant to sigh but it came out as a half-growl. Just another something going wrong with her frame. "Just scan it, beetle bug."
She undid her wrist cabling to plug into his, then into her datapad with another, "I'll walk you through the transformation."
"Watch the output. Don't short yourselves out." Ratchet warned.
Once Bee had the schematics, she disconnected.
"On three."
"THREE."
Bumblebee's frame rippled and folded with a muted litany of swears from the disorientation. He took to new alts like a champ, only stumbling once. An alien, but sophisticated felid stood in his place.
Bright blue optics squinted, he shook his head, "Still too much sensory input… How do you function like this?!"
"I don't!" she grinned, "I just select which sense I can live without for the moment and go from there. I haven't wanted to tear my audios off in a few cycles, so that's great."
Ratchet clapped briefly, "That's not something you see every day, the alt designing. No internal injury. Good job."
Cypress checked him over one last time, patting the bridge of his snout. "So, do you like it?"
"I love it." He pulled his paws together, tail wrapped around them.
He gave off a warm flit of EM and genuinely smiled.
There was that weird heartburn sensation again that made the floor jitter. Probably not a good sign. That last sensation was surprisingly external.
Ratchet dropped his crate, "Cockpit, everyone. Now."
On making it there, Bumblebee pulled up a visual of the surrounding area at one console.
In the distance, there was a growing black smoke plume of an intense blaze.
Bee hissed softly, "Looks like a fireball."
While Ratchet got on the comms, Cypress contacted Jazz.
~ That's not you guys, is it? ~
~ No…we're east of it. ~
Another alert appeared in the corner. The ship's bay door had begun open on its own accord.
"What now?!" Ratchet snatched a blaster from subspace, one that looked better suited to Ironhide, and stalked down the hallway. Cypress armed herself and promptly got dragged by the right servo behind Bumblebee.
"Hey!"
He caught her optic, "Every time we fight, you get maimed or purge. You're with me."
Like he was any better at not getting thrashed…
Ratchet leaned against the side of the door, blaster at the ready. He gestured to something flickering the dim hold. The nearby controls were crawling with pale, visible electrical currents.
"I'm not here for you, granmoun."
FRAG.
Cypress wilted at the carefully, painfully crafted Cy-Stan that hid a rolling Predus accent. The translator read her words as "grandpa", meaning the medic. Problem was, Ratch wasn't even visible from the outside.
Voltage continued, "Pet? I know you're there."
Ratchet was unamused and fired a warning shot overhead.
The nearby control panel for the ramp began to glow red with overloading circuitry.
"This will be an issue to repair… Just come out, pet, I only want to talk."
Ratchet stepped out, "Ki sa ki enpòtan konsa ou ta riske lavi ou?" (What's so important you'd risk your life?)
"You too, hmm?" The Seeker strode forward, long electrified filaments following. "I would like to speak to your Spiner."
"Pardon?"
"The green and blue Preda?"
"And if I let you?"
"I'll speak my peace, then I'll leave."
That niggle of warmth and unity gnawed at Cypress' spark. It couldn't be that bad to go…
"What about?" Ratchet growled.
"I'd like to extend an invitation to begin a trine."
Cypress peaked out from behind Ratchet to see the orange and blue femme waiting expectantly at attention, eerie pale optics and all. They softened when she smiled.
In all, it was Voltage, a grim looking Cieve, and the black and white mechling that had showed up.
Cypress swallowed the confusing mix of relief and fear. "Can't you take a hint?"
The Seeker beamed, "Occasionally. Nice to see you again."
The filaments detached from the ship's ramp, coiling back beneath her forearms plating like ghostly eels.
Cypress managed to tear her gaze away just as Voltage smirked.
"Want to know how they work?"
Maybe.
The small Preda sighed, "I'm not coming."
"Think of it as a trial period. We'll need a third. You can bring your doorwinger friend."
There was a thrum of an engine behind her, Bee'd followed her. "He won't go either."
"What he said." Cypress gestured at Bee.
"Come on down," she goaded, "No guns...or spines."
Cieve shifted irritably. Seemed like she'd gotten a new paintjob. Parts of her frame were marred with angry grey splotches.
Her furious orange optics honed in on her again.
Oh. The spines had worked.
Cypress finally slunk down the ramp, shoulders hunched in absence of a hoodie to hide in. "If I come back beat up again, I'm going to be on rivet detail forever…"
"No reason to worry, we're all civil beings."
Cieve and Ratchet snorted at the same time.
Barricade look around and edged forward out of curiosity. "How far do your spines go on your frame?"
Her audios jerked.
"I don't think I'm supposed to tell you that."
"Made a bet with Tic." He said as if that explained everything.
"You're short, too. Are you supposed to be part fox—?"
"You've got two extra optics, something up with your real ones?" Bumblebee spat.
To his credit, Barricade didn't respond with a blaster. It seemed like the other youngling had come to a decision about something. From the narrowed optics, Cypress doubted it was good.
"Charming," Voltage drawled, "Cade enjoys trivia."
"Should we be worried?"
"Yes. Lend me your arm, pet."
Razor sharp talons gently secured her arm.
"You don't put much mileage on a frame…"
Voltage abruptly tried scratching off Cypress' new insignia, then popped off her forearm plating with a quick jolt of energy.
"Hey!"
"I will give it back," she called loudly, attempting to ward off what came after the click of a blaster's safety lock.
"Your medic is a crafty one." Voltage lowered her voice, "Forgive me for this, I hope you'll understand."
With a loose hold on her arm, the Seeker made optic contact with Ratchet. "You're the guardian? I applaud the effort, but when were you planning on telling her she's Made-To-Order?"
Voltage detached the same area on her own arm with the same curved design, same inky coloring.
Gentle talons traced it and the same tug from so many cycles ago resonated up her arms and dug into her spark. What was the promise of another half, was swiftly turning into her worst nightmare.
Panic.
Cypress wrenched her arm away, snatching back her plating. She drew the emergency pistol Jazz had practically jammed into her subspace and trained it on the Seeker's spark.
"Just like an Autobot." Cieve hissed.
Voltage only seemed mildly riled, judging by the cant of her wings. "Calm yourself. I will tell you why I think that."
"You don't know your parentages, do you? Organics don't count, so no pack by energon. Processor aches when you attempt to remember things? The symbol your medic applied in hopes it would disguise any "identifying marks". Multiple language files? Odd encryption? The general state of your past life?"
~ The fact I can do this? ~
Voltage was closing the distance between them again, and Cypress couldn't move.
"Do you believe me now? At least a little?"
Behind and in front of her, she could feel two sets of optics felt like they were burning into her.
Cypress forced an unfortunately startled sounding snort, "No, you've got the wrong 'former. If that's it, you can go."
"I did say that." A regretful expression twisted her faceplates. "You've made up your mind for now." She looked over her shoulder, probably sizing up the two Autobots and grimaced. "But we all know the truth. They're never going to accept you."
"And you're so open?" Cypress found the nerve to glare at Cieve. Who promptly formed the ugliest snarl ever.
Voltage frowned, "We're the same and that's what counts. You'll know where to find me."
Barricade lagged behind, still looking between the Autobot scouts.
"It's not that bad of a deal. V was looking forward to meeting you two."
"Is there a reason you're still here?" Bumblebee hissed.
"Just making sure I know where everyone stands before I kill you. See you both."
Cypress finally relaxed as they disappeared back into the sands. Bumblebee's wings were stuck in permanent outrage mode,
"He's creepy."
"At least he's honest. Maybe now she'll finally give u-"
Cypress turned to Ratchet who didn't really have any describable expression.
"Ratch?"
By now Bee was looking at him too.
"Kids, come back in. And Cypress. There's something I need to tell you."
"She's not telling the truth. She's a Decepticon…"
Ratchet operated the now working bay door, "The only reason that Seeker would know is if this were bigger than what we think. Or." He paused, "Or if she were involved in it herself. Is there anything else going—"
But Cypress had already stepped away, planning to wedge herself in the deepest cavern of the ship.
"I've got a thing. I'll be back."
~o~o~o~o~o~
~ Prowl… the Seeker is back. ~
The older Praxian grimaced, bond impressions clear on which Seeker it was. That weird looking one.
All her movements were energetic, avian-like. She had the type of enthusiasm that vaguely reminded him of Tarantulas.
Maybe it was wrong to pin that evil on a fellow Koa experiment. That didn't mean there wasn't a bit of arachnid tucked away in her coding.
Those electric currents she used were an awful lot like webs.
~ Are they gone? ~
~ For now. ~ Bee sent along a brief rundown of what happened.
Before the time he'd reported the Predas left, there was the twist of an invading force inside the bond. Then it was gone. It was like looking at something happening to someone else through a hazy window—only that you could feel whatever happened to the other person.
Atop a ridge, on lookout, Jazz eased into the topic.
~ Who was that on bond? Anyone know for sure? ~
After it was obvious Cypress would drag this out, Prowl went after her with a less- than-polite yank.
He might have gotten a small kick out of the confused outrage the Preda had at being dragged into the open.
~ Can I at least get some privacy? ~
~ No, it's a group conversation. ~
She stirred up a blat of annoyance.
~ You know who it was? ~
~ Voltage…somehow. Can we not talk about this? ~
~ In the event of it being a matter of life or death—~
He was stopped by a cutting private message, ~ Then die. ~
Cypress closed herself off tight enough that she could have been assumed dead. She was getting better at it. That eerily quiet tone drew Prowl up short.
~ Bumblebee? ~
The scout was overly hesitant when he did answer. ~ That Seeker rattled her. She's hiding in the ship somewhere. ~
~ Only her? ~ Jazz hummed.
Prowl worked to keep his doorwings still, ~ We'll be around soon. ~
Bee gave the clear equivalent of an unsteady nod, probably not sure of himself. Eventually, the scout turned attentions back to himself.
Jazz let out a long ex-vent, ~ So that's number two. She aint subtle. ~
~ That may be a problem. ~ Prowl shifted slightly, ~ Is there a way we could disable her? ~
~ Definitely. Shouldn't be a problem. ~
They both snapped to attention as the trudging steps of an over taxed frame trudged into view.
The bleached red 'former paused to assess them and her shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh, thank Primacron… You're not Cons?"
"No," Jazz said shortly.
The femme didn't sense or acknowledge his standoffish tone, simply rambling on as she knocked sand out of her treads. "Someone blew up my ship." the femme huffed, "One nano, everything is fine, just taking walk. The next, my whole ship goes up in a fireball and there's a flying saurian zooming away. That's an awful prank!"
She stood up straight, "I need to find my partner. You haven't seen anyone else come past here?"
Jazz and Prowl shared a look. Meeting other Transformers was much like meeting another species, always a gamble. Prowl didn't return her smile.
Jazz plastered on his sharkticon grin, "Nah. Only Predas and Cons."
He stood up straighter and stepped slightly to the right with an energetic flourish.
No longer behind them, Sideswipe waved from his spot tucked in the scrub brush. His other servo was armed with the expected rifle.
The new 'former slipped her own weapon to her side, servos up. "They've gotten to you too, huh?"
"Yup." Jazz said.
Then something appeared to cross her processor. Probably her bright, red optics and that she'd run up on three antsy Autobots. "Slag, I'm not a Decepticon!"
Jazz nodded, "If yah say so."
Her optics narrowed and two magnabombs appeared between the digits of either servo.
"Are you crazy?! You'll fry us all!" Sideswipe crowed.
All friendly pretenses had vanished. She was on the offensive. "I'm looking for a Seeker and my partner, not trouble. If you haven't seen another neutral around here, I'll be going."
Something seemed familiar about that very dead, very done look of annoyance on her blank faceplate.
And then, like the last time he'd gotten in the way of Ratchet's last session of 'idiot target practice': it hit him.
Prowl raised his doorwings, "Hi, RoadRage."
"Who the frell are you?"
If she wasn't kith to Lockdown, he'd be shocked.
"We know Lockney." Prowl shrugged, relaxing his posture. If he did maybe she'd follow suit.
"It's funny you say it like that."
"Indeterminate build, messed up faceplate, frame spikes, and bad attitude? Hard-aft doesn't make friends, he makes enemies." Jazz spat. Then carefully added, "Also, he had a picture of you."
"That's him." Realization lit her optics, "Ohhhh, you're that annoying kid! Jazzy!"
"What now?"
"That's what he called you. You used to follow him around all the time!" RoadRage beamed, bombs forgotten.
"Ahm going kill him."
"Jazz…."
All pretenses of a neutral expression left the Polyhexian. "Ahm serious this time!"
RoadRage's posture relaxed a bit. "You went Autobot?"
"Lesser of two evils," Prowl said, joining Sides in glancing back at their quieter teammate. Normally, Jazz handled conversation, but normally he didn't stand so rigid.
"Do or die!" Sideswipe clapped Prowl on the back with a force that used to knock him forward.
RoadRage nodded politely.
Sideswipe relaxed his joints, leaning back a bit on his wheels. "So, you're hunting a Seeker…"
Prowl's wings folded in sympathy. Sides and Sunny had something of a violent interest in Seekers. It was one borne of the fallout of far too many air raids.
But RoadRage didn't know that. If she were anything like Lockdown this was any other job.
"A low rank, foreign frame. Don't want to start a riot."
Sides immediately got on the comms, still holding conversation as he did. "You want to draw her out? I know just the femme for the job…sounds like the same flier stalking one of our scouts."
He was going to call Cypress. Who wasn't answering bond at the moment…but apparently could be troubled to pick up a comm.
The youngling didn't sound right, she seemed distant, but agreed to help without question.
Considering he'd just been given the go ahead to die, Prowl was assuming the kid was "sick" again.
Sick of him.
Sideswipe straightened, "Come on, you need to meet the guys."
Something leapt onto his shoulder at the same time another force butted into the lower part of his legs with a yip.
Terri. The grey bird struggled for purchase on his shoulder and finally turned to hiss at its pursuer.
For a klik, Prowl expected to see a very sentient cyberwolf glaring up at him. Instead, he was greeted by a black and white turbofox with a mouthful of feathers.
It hobbled around innocently, helm butting into his leg plating.
The red twin stopped to stare. "Aren't you the critter catcher today…"
He barely heard Sides.
After another pass, Prowl finally asked. "Gidget?"
The fox's ears pricked and chirred warmly.
Seeing their youngling-hood captor in real life brought Jazz back around in a flash. "RoadRage, where'd you find her?"
"Oh, that's one of Drift's pets."
"Drift?"
"My hunting partner."
Prime and Ironhide's expressions matched theirs when they finally met up. The second time seemed to be the charm. From the trailer packed with energon, it seemed like they'd gotten the fuel they'd needed, uninterrupted until now.
All optics were on the prancing fox.
"Isn't that—" Ironhide started.
Gidget squealed and plowed into Prime's space, leaping into Optimus' grasp. Overridden by memory, he caught her and maneuvered his arms to better grip the wriggling creature.
The cherry femme frowned, "How do you all know her?"
"Her owner." Optimus looked up sharply, "Where's Deadlock?"
"Drift," she amended firmly. "He changed his name."
"Oh great...that makes it better." 'Hide rumbled.
RoadRage cocked her helm, EM now guarded. "You're his old friends, then?"
"We were in the same faction," Ironhide said.
Gidget's tail had turned into a virtual fan and she stretched her head to receive a pat from Prowl. Then she squirmed in Jazz's direction.
"Awfully fond of you."
"We ran into him back on Cybertron." The Polyhexian finally gave in and scratched her. "He hunted us down."
Prowl remembered. Stuck in the once-irradiated wasteland of the Ferrin Depths, surrounded by foxes with plague, behind attacked by vandals, and coming face to face with their bloody savior: Deadlock and his merry pair of corpse-eaters.
He was remembering the bronzy, scarred mess of a steeljaw that was always two steps away from mauling someone.
The words spurted up from his vocalizer, "Does he still have Gasket?"
"Yeah? Why?"
"Steeljaws hunt Predas, particularly wolf-builds, and one is on our team," he stated, voice raising towards the end without his consent. He grit his denta. It wasn't a big deal. It was fine. RoadRage couldn't have known. It was just his coding acting up.
Optimus waved him down, "Where'd you say Drift was again?"
"Hunting Seekers…he said Gask picked up something outside this ugly orange ship..." Slowly RoadRage was getting the picture as well. "Oh no."
Prowl locked visors with Jazz, then Optimus. Prime raised a servo to his helm, "Ark, come in."
All they got was static in return.
~o~o~o~o~o~
Cypress felt like her brains were on fire. Going to see Ratchet was probably a better idea being she was mech-made and all…
More fear amped the settings in her processor until… it just stopped.
It took a full five kliks to realize she'd blacked out. So much for a good streak. At least she'd made it into a vent this time. Her frame deemed now a good time for beast mode so there she was. Curled up beneath a huge chunk of machinery somewhere inside The Ark.
Ratchet's worry-tinged voice.
"Kid?" Ratchet called, "Come on back."
He didn't really even need the intercom; some vent was transmitting his voice. How long had he been calling?
She struggled to her paws to do just that.
Come back and talk about the serial number on your arm. About how you really do have no family.
Just out of grabbing distance, she sat back down with a muted whimper.
Cypress wasn't even sure why it was a surprise. She wasn't related to her family and hadn't even been human. Why was it such a shock she was an experiment?
Why'd she expected something normal?
One of her borrowed data-pads burned in her sub-space.
Ratchet skipped over anything related to MTOs. Something that sounded suspect looking back. Now she lay, staring at pictures of limp and half formed Transformers floating in CR chambers.
Traditionally made for preassigned purposes. Note: while a single spark may be preferred, it is best to grow MTO in pairs or batches and allow them to remain as such. In the event of one or more termination, there is a back-up available. (Pictured: In tank Vehi-mode NBO, adult frame stage, spark-failure)
In the very likely chance Voltage was telling the truth, which one of them was the backup? What predetermined purpose did they have?
The thought of the last movie monster she'd seen rose unbidden. Something with horrible spines, a maw bursting with disarranged teeth and a lust for killing…
Cypress rushed to force her own spines back down, but they stayed up, ruled by some subconscious program. Per usual, she fought it. Likewise, her frame fought her right back.
This time, there was a trigger for her frame's unruliness. A new scent flooded her olfactory. Not a vehicle mode, definitely not a human, and not a Preda either—this one was a true, metal beast.
She packed her things and stalked toward the source of the bitter odor.
After popping out of her floor vent, Cypress found the cause in a hulking, dog-like thing nosing around the living quarter's hall. He promptly rubbed its frame against Bee's door frame, leaving a trail of paint and more of the awful scent.
"Hey!"
The bronze bruiser lifted its head with a full-fanged snarl.
"Go away," she barked back.
Its snarl rose to a cutting pitch.
Cypress pinned her audios back, bared her fangs, and let her ruff raise in full all the way down to her tail turning into a bottlebrush.
"You don't. Live. Here."
In hindsight, fighting an unknown canid was a stupid idea. Beyond stupid. But so was her mood.
She lunged, meeting the canid halfway.
It dove for her neck and she went for its paws. The dog—hound or whatever seemed to resemble something between a wolf and a pit-bull. Following that comparison, being bitten was to be avoided.
And she was willing to wager, the same was true in her case.
She landed a solid bite to the nape of its neck and clamped down. Venom seeped into the cracks between his plating and into his lines.
He was losing control of his forelegs. Falling in a fight meant death and he knew it.
"You gonna play nice?!"
Another snarl.
Cypress mimicked the tone with more bass.
Eventually, a jagged sigh escaped the hound and its ears folded back in submission.
She laid one threatening paw on his nape as she transformed. "No fighting, no biting."
A beleaguered huff.
"Good boy."
She stroked his lesioned head and nearly got her digits amputated after a snap.
"HEY. We don't do that here." Cypress pulled him along, "You're kinda rough looking. Poor guy."
Not too far away, there was a barely audible swear.
"Nice of you to drop in. There's a frigging hellhound on the loose."
No answer, just a passing odor of fresher blood.
Jazz's knife drone came puttering by with just that staining its blade.
The more she concentrated, the clearer a faint scent of outdoors and stranger's became, carried by the ventilation system behind her. Someone was in here with the dog…
Suddenly, Ratchet's obnoxious calls made more sense. They weren't sure who was in here either.
Bumblebee picked up on the sensation. ~ Don't freak out...we caught something weird on the feeds. Come into the rec room. Play it cool. No comms. ~
She was beginning to question the usefulness of a communication system that couldn't be used around an enemy. So, she called out in the name of playing it cool.
"Ratchet?"
"About time, femme! What were you doing?"
"Had music on. Have you seen my rifle? The real one? Sunny promised we'd get some practice in."
The medic didn't miss a beat—or dropped hints.
"In here, stop leaving your stuff everywhere."
"I found a pet too! He must have snuck on board."
"No, you can't keep it."
"But it's a hound!"
Bee jumped in. "You don't think it's weird you turn into a canid and you want to keep one as a pet?" Bee groused, getting into the façade. "It sounds pretty weird, like one of those cartoons—."
"I thought we agreed to stop applying logic to fiction."
"Lighten up, you're starting to sound like Prowl."
She made a disgusted noise, mindful of the growing sensation of a presence closing in behind her.
Cypress rushed through the nonexistent rec room door and towed the growling menace with her.
Ratch and Bee had barricaded the threshold, just out of sight.
Bumblebee canted his helm as she sat to hold the bronze menace still, right in the open where the pursuer could clearly see.
Her position gave her a clear view of a white figure streaked with red stalking toward them. And the arm length blades he held loose at his sides.
He hadn't made a sound all the way here.
If it was possible the hound seemed to chuckle, further cementing her theory everything from Cybertron was evil. Including whatever noise her body decided to make at that moment.
The growl didn't make the swordmech pause and his hound bucked violently.
Cypress instead wrapped her arms around its neck in a lethal hug, spines grazing the cabling.
The stranger halted, "If there's a time to surrender, it's now."
"You're the trespasser."
He'd stopped just shy of the threshold, fondly tracing the walls with his optics.
"Where's Optimus, pup?"
"I'm not telling you slag. Get out."
He sighed, sheathed his blades and stuck his helm in with no fear, shoving Bumblebee's blaster downward before it could fire, "Hey, Ratchet."
Surprisingly, he did not get his helm blown off. The medic relaxed even. "It's just you. Welcome back from the dead, Deadlock. New look?"
"New name too, its Drift." This new mech cast a glance back down to her struggling to restrain the thrashing hound.
"Gasket, stop. You can let him go."
Cypress made a face and turned to Ratchet.
"It's okay, set him loose."
She did and as Gasket's first act of vengeance for being mech-handled, the hound landed a vicious bite to her shoulder. It was promptly followed by his side being laced with dud spines.
"Slag, Gasket, heel!"
Bumblebee hoisted her up, putting himself between her and snapping Gasket. "Git!"
Instead, the steeljaw paused. Then, haggard tail wagging furiously. He barked and crouched in play, a new hound in the span of a nano. He attacked Bee with smothering licks.
"Gasket, heel!"
Reluctantly, Gasket sat.
"Friendly critter…" Ratchet mused.
"Not normally he isn't."
"That was sarcasm."
Cypress, meanwhile tried to process what just happened. She glared half-sparked at Bee, who was mopping drool off his face. "How come you get licks and I get mauled?"
"Believe me, I'd trade." He slung a glob into a far corner where it stuck like cement, much to Ratchet's vocal displeasure.
"Sorry, he's still on the hunt." Drift ran a steadying servo over the hound.
Gasket wasn't interested. He whined pitifully, inching his way toward Bee.
"He likes you…You're fine with hounds, kid?"
Given his track record since Cypress had known him, it wasn't a surprise he hesitated. "I guess I am."
Drift made a chirruping call, helm bobbing once.
That seemed to please the hound. He strode over and sat on Bumblebee's peds, sharp optics honed in on him.
As were Drift's.
On some misguided confidence high, Cypress attempted to stare down the unknown mech. He met her gaze and held it.
Something murky and black began creeping into the edge of his optics. It definitely wasn't her imagination this time. She clicked her fangs together, more out of pain than aggression. Her shoulder was throbbing with the beginnings of an infection and it was his fault.
Drift offered a wide, serviceably friendly grin that might have been empathetic. It reminded her too much of a goblin shark—and Cieve's silent threats.
Ratchet glanced between them and huffed. "Cypress, drop it. He has been killing 'formers longer than most civilizations have existed."
The mech cowed slightly, "That was a while ago."
"Not nearly long enough." The medic rumbled.
Drift didn't look it, he looked…a little on the hippie side. If hippies were a thing in space. A few sigils decorated his frame and he didn't smell as metallic. He'd been living on an organic planet too. If you shrunk him, he'd be a very elaborate mecha cosplayer—but dangerous he did not look.
Apparently, she and Bee had earned the same scrutiny from him. He kept glancing between them with the same confusion that purple Seeker had.
"I don't mind it, really." He said, turning more speculative, "That is an interesting accent. Colony?"
And just like that, she was back to staring at the floor, "Sort of."
Ratchet squeezed her good arm to steer her to the nearest table. To Drift he said, "Take a seat if you're planning on staying."
Drift did, blades and God knew what else clinking as he sat. Bumblebee attempted to move, only to be gently pulled down by Gasket's razor-sharp maw. He then made himself at home on Bee's lap starting in on grooming his armor.
Ratchet was keeping one optic in the hound, the other on Drift, and a disassembled digit on her puncture wounds. "What'd you feed him, Bee?"
"Nothing!"
"You did something."
"Didn't you ever have a pet?" Drift asked. He sounded a little disturbed.
"No, because no one will let me."
"That's a shame." Then it was her turn for questions, "Was it a practice for your pack?"
Cypress paused in picking at a another, shallow, gouge, swiping an antiseptic coated digit over it. "Yeah, he was a good boy, but he turned out to be sentient."
"Oh. Where's he now?"
"Tormenting my relatives."
"I see…Are all your family venomous?"
"And rabid," she lied.
That brought him up short. "They all have the Vesania plague…?"
"What gave you that idea? They're fit as fiddles."
Drift's optics narrowed ever so slightly. "Keep your secrets, then."
She would.
"How've you been, Ratchet?"
"Better. If we didn't have so many intruders. How'd you get in?"
"Secret latch. Still remembered it."
"I don't suppose you'd tell me where?"
Drift's smile grew. "Wouldn't be a secret then."
"Remind me why I'm not shooting you?"
"I'd like to catch up with you all, it's been too long."
"Drift."
"I promise, I'm not affiliated with whoever attempted to board. We're hunting them, actually. It's a larger job than two 'formers can handle directly…"
Cypress zoned out. The mech was suspicious but no major threat, Ratch seemed okay enough with him.
Repairs finished, she scooted over to Bee.
~ He's different. ~
~ Definitely. ~ Bumblebee ran a servo over the hound for the umpteenth time and jerked back with a loaded spine stuck from his servo.
A deep sense of guilt weighed her lines down. Of course, the hound still had spines in him. Why hadn't she thought of that?
"Scrap! Hold still."
To his credit, Bee had relaxed his systems to a ghostly silence. The only sign he wasn't calm was the slight tremor in his servo.
He was going to shut down just like Sideswipe. The venom would course through his lines and he'd have no more chances to be stuck again and possibly die after a complete shutdown. That began to send her systems into a tailspin. Ratchet had antivenom, he was right there. They'd just—
Her HUD blipped. [Unintentional injury? Y/N]
Y
[Subject?]
She scrambled to pull up Bee and his specs.
[Distill antivenom? Y/N]
Y
It highlit two digits on her right servo. [Apply.]
Cypress snatched his servo, yanked out the spine, and pricked the area directly atop where it once was. Slowly, the sickly, grey discoloration ebbed away, replaced by the normal black of his servos.
Bee seemed just as surprised as she felt.
"All green?"
"Well not anymore."
"Seriously, I might have to jab you again!"
"Yeah…" he flexed his servo, "Yeah, its fine."
She could have crumpled. "Good."
They both jumped as Ratchet cleared his vents. He'd graduated to standing over their huddle, his own syringe of antivenom at the ready. He let out a relieved gust, "Not going to need this then."
Drift sat watching with rapt attention, helm cocked. "Huh. Weird. Can you fix Gasket like that?"
Cypress stared at the increasingly stiff hound, who seemed to be rubbing the fact he was mildly wounded in further with a drawn-out whine.
"Sure."
All throughout Gasket's dose and subsequent plucking, for which Drift had to hold his jaws shut. Bee kept flexing his servo.
"You need to speak up if somethings not right, Bee." Ratchet said gravely, busy repatching the lines in Gasket's neck she'd crushed.
"It's fine, really—just different."
Cypress yanked out the last of the spines in the annoyed hound. She brushed a servo over Bee's. "Sorry."
He reciprocated with a squeeze and thumb brushed over her servo with a lingering trail that was the opposite of most Cybertronian physical contact she'd had before.
"It did hurt but…"
Drift bumped against the table as he finally released Gasket. "Well, thanks for your help. He's got less holes."
The drowsy hound slid off their makeshift exam table and Ratchet started spraying it down with disinfectant. He paused for all of a nano before he let out another throaty growl.
This time, Cypress took refuge on top of the nearest table as Gasket talked by. "Not twice in a cycle!"
"Drift," Ratchet warned, "Get your mutt!"
"Let him go, he sees something!"
The medic was prepared to go on a tirade before one of the intercom speakers let out an odd pulse.
"Oh. Jazz, it's safe."
Instead, it was Optimus who appeared flanked by Jazz. The Polyhexian cast one look at Drift and his visor darkened.
Drift immediately rose, "Prime."
"Drift. I didn't expect to see you again."
"It's never too early for a reunion." The swordsmech eased a bit with an awkward shrug. He focused on the adult Praxian coming to stand beside Jazz.
"HEY! You're both still alive? Where's the other one?"
The guy was just nosey and full of questions, apparently.
"On his own." Prowl said, leaving no indication he wanted to continue speaking.
"Hm, good to see you two have grown into yourselves."
A few kliks later, the rest of the crew joined them.
"The heck is going on here?" Ironhide boomed.
Drift bit his derma. "I may have brought a comms dampener onboard."
A creamy red femme sighed, "Drift…" her optics drifted over to her and Cypress caught the barest glimmer of trepidation.
Cypress subconsciously ran her glossa over her fangs. She could reform Bee, but not herself—not yet at least.
Her idea was to begin working her way out of the rec room. That was until Gasket took a snap at her tail.
"Really?"
He snapped again.
~ Stay and socialize. ~ Prowl sent.
~ Why? ~
~ It's expected. Want me to hold your servo? ~
~ Fine, I'll stay. No touching. ~
"Seems we have new 'formers among us." Optimus started, "Drift and RoadRage."
Introductions went around rapidly. Prowl and Jazz seemed to be familiar enough with the new femme, otherwise known as: the cousin of the guy no one wanted to talk about.
She was enthusiastic in describing all they'd gotten up to. It seemed they hadn't been hunting together all that long, just a four hundred years or so.
She was from Juros and sounded every bit as odd as the rest of their crew. Oddly enough, it seemed midwestern to her audios— and too friendly. By the time her turn came, Cypress had forced her helm to an upright position, adjusted her claws so there'd be no servo scratching, and forced the tight smile she didn't feel.
RoadRage clasped her servo and proceeded to drag her into a bear-hug.
Why. Why. Why hadn't she noticed RoadRage was a hugger?!
There was no time to panic, the bulky femme let go just as quickly to hold her at arm's length. "Didn't catch your name?"
"Cypress," she ducked out of the light hold and slipped back a step. She didn't offer any further detail.
The new femme seemed to be waiting for it— until a very avian screech sounded from behind them.
Sunstreaker swatted at the speeding slight of grey feathers, "Who let the bird in?"
Cypress caught Prowl looking anywhere but at his suspicious commander. Ironhide caught his guilty look, but let it be.
Drift's pets seemed to lock on to their next target with practiced ease.
Without thinking Cypress knelt and whistled, winding up with an armful of bird.
"It's okay, you're fine."
Terri warbled back, beady eyes shining.
This time, it was the bird standing atop a table. "You are determined to get squashed; you know that?"
Gasket made a low howl from where he sat beside Drift.
Terri hissed back but settled her bulk in the crook of her arm like a roost.
Cypress nearly jumped out of her plating when Prowl ran a servo over Terri, mindful of her extra eye.
~ Interesting creature…watch this. ~
He pulled out a not-so-long dead organic rodent, covertly feeding it to Terri.
~ You're not scared that'll rot in your subspace? ~
~ No? Its just matter. ~
"Don't get attached, you two." Ratchet scolded. "We're not keeping it."
"'M not."
"You said the same thing about that nasty couch, but yet." Prowl trailed off as the hilt of a wrench made an appearance.
~ We've got to keep her. ~ Cypress sent.
~ Worth a try. Help me make sure she's spaceproof? ~
~ Yep. ~
~ Aww, you're bonding! ~ Bee teased.
She watched him attempt to walk over, despite the turbofox seemingly determined to trip him, ending with him boxing her closer to the group.
Gidget wove between her legs and Prowl's, before bumping Bee, and going to bother Ratchet.
"She seems nice."
Cypress barely managed a shrug, then frowned. "Bird, fox, or the 'former?"
"All I guess?"
She set Terri free to roam the tabletop and pillowed her arms to listen to the lull of conversation.
No sooner had she gotten relaxed than Sideswipe rolled up to the table with a thunk.
"Got a proposition for you, wolfy."
She made a face, "Oh God, it's starting. No!"
"Relax! Totally legit in most sectors," Sideswipe chimed. "I commed you about it?"
"Huh…" Come to think of it, he had. That puzzled look was completely reasonable.
"Whatever, think you can lure your Seeker stalker somewhere?"
"What for?"
"Bounty payment. Rager and Drift are after her."
The Preda was still puzzling it over when Sides said exactly what was on her mind. "I mean they don't seem too fond of you anyway. Wouldn't be any love lost."
Meaning, the trial beatdown. Same scrap; different species. What was the point in fitting in if you were treated the same as an outsider?
It was settled then.
She shifted the fake gun strapped to her back, "I'm still cleared to go out?"
"Well, yeah. If you can handle it. C'mon."
Across the room, Drift was busy marking out where the Decepticons were camped compared to where they currently were. Everything was laid out on a free-floating holographic display that she was determined to borrow later.
In a transparent blue tint, the Ark was hidden from sight hiding in the shadow of a dune. For all the good it had done, they might as well have been out in the open.
The Cons were several tics below them and the desert itself in a subterranean hollow. The shelter it provided causing a massive forested oasis to spring up.
"There's definitely more of them: a saurian flier, five wolves, the weird Seeker, the Elite Trine, Blackout, and their scout. Seems one of then found our ship."
"Probably thought it was yours." RoadRage pinched at her temples, "I had two more payments on that!"
"All the more reason to compensate." Sunstreaker put in.
Optimus frowned from the next table, "They're not going to take losing one of their own lying down."
"Which is why we need to evacuate as soon as we grab her, preferably before she can set out a warning."
Cypress sank further into her scraped seat, ducking under the sharp gaze of the swordsmech.
"I'm told she's keen on you?"
"Unfortunately…"
"Think you can get close enough to sedate her?"
Cypress remembered the tangible pleading in the Seeker's field. It was gutting Voltage to stay away, and maybe getting robot-napped wasn't the answer…
It would score her brownie points here though.
It was the new coding talking, it had to be, but she said:
"Yes. We're not going to hurt her, are we?"
Cypress started fretting with one audial and rushed to throw in an excuse. "I need her for sketching practice."
The lie slipped out so easily—surprisingly.
Even worse, Ratchet backed her up.
"Wipe that look off your face, Sunny. We've got plenty examples of vehicle modes around here, but no fliers. Mind if we borrow her?"
RoadRage and Drift shared a quick look. She shrugged, "Slag, I don't care."
"Shouldn't be an issue."
Cypress hid the spidering sensations of joy in the form of nearly crushing her audial tip.
Drift still stared.
"Mech, you're giving me the creeps."
"You don't behave like any Preda I've seen before, even off-worlders. You really have no guilt for hunting them?"
The Preda schooled her face into blankness, "No. Raised by mutant egrets, remember?"
Drift's stare narrowed into a squint. She just barely caught the word "samozvanets" muttered under his breath. It was some phrase that vaguely related to strangers? Whatever that meant, it had Ratchet glaring at him.
"The ship is in one area but the Predas tend to camp in a swampy area. It'll be difficult to reach."
"Easy, just swim and wade."
Now RoadRage was staring, "No?"
"You all can't swim?"
Bee leaned over to stage whisper, "Not a ton of water on Cybertron and the whole metal thing is bad for swimming."
Cypress bit her derma, "It's been—a while since I've been to a marsh, but I can get us close. They're trying to recruit us, for some reason."
The swordsmech nodded, pleased to have made some progress.
"We'll play back up for ya." Jazz volunteered, gesturing over to Prowl.
Optimus put in his two cents. "The less fuss we raise and the faster we are to take off, the better. Anyone left have an objection to staying near the ship?"
They didn't, of course.
Eventually, most of their crew drifted off to prep for tomorrow and she disappeared into her quarters.
Cypress was too grateful for the alien give of her berth. She double checked the door lock and tangled herself up in the tarp everyone called a 'warming blanket'. Terri plodded around, finding a comfortable spot over her spark and settling like a chicken.
All she had to do was wait until tomorrow and she'd have answers. It was the simplest thing! Why did her chest hurt, then?
She ran her digits over the bird's plush feathers, tuned out someone thumping around next door, and started counting back from thirty.
Before she could sink into the depths of worry, the wall neighboring the empty room next to hers imploded.
When the shrapnel finished raining down, there RoadRage stood rooted in place, looking all sorts of guilty.
"Hey, neighbor—" a hard flush coated her faceplate as she attempted to kick some of the debris back onto her side.
Terri let out a disgruntled hiss from somewhere under the blanket, grouchy but unharmed. It was a miracle they weren't dead.
A very, un-Autobot thought crossed her processor at that moment.
I could bite you. I really should.
She was also aware she'd transformed and looked more menacing with the blanket hooded over her body. Instead, Cypress nodded curtly, gathered her blanket with Terri swaddled in it, and booked it to Bee's room.
