Chapter Two
Part One: The Blessing Way
Playing dead was easy. Go into low power mode and just sit among the damned. The prisoners amassed in these cells. Broken. Physically, mentally or all of the above. Crosswind had much to contemplate alone among them. This was the largest prison freighter yet. The Predacons were growing bolder in recent times. Some unknown force was making their way through the universe. Assimilation or destruction were their only calling cards. The Predacons always lacked the numbers to rise up against their Cybertronian counterparts. A distinction that set them apart from their ancestors. These raids on annihilated worlds. The scant few survivors were pressed into slave labour. Eventually burnt out completely and recycled to further the growing Predacon war machine. Cruelty was definitely an inherited trait among them.
Crosswind cared little for that. He was on a mission. These victims were in need. Rumour had also spread that the forces ultimately behind all this were well aware of the Predacons activities. That a reckoning was coming. This ship was poised to be ground zero. The rescue plan, now or never.
They were only five. But already have undertaken several successful missions. This was the biggest yet. They couldn't guarantee walking away from this one by stealth. Unnoticed. The cargo hold had been quartered by forcefields into mass makeshift cells. The Preds cared little for any medical care their prisoners may need. Many didn't survive the initial extraction. But the numbers gathered offset any such losses. From a vantage point in the ductwork above, Spy tagged four heavily armed Predacon guards that patrolled outside the cells. Such a show of force was felt necessary should some more lively prisoners lay among the multitude of broken. Medic, to the outward observer, was another stasis locked bot among the piles of many. Her gaze was cast towards Crosswind. A soft strobe effect pulsing through her optics caught his attention. The signal. Relaying that everyone was in position. He silently rose to his feet. Not the biggest of bots. But as a Flier, tall enough to draw attention among the crowd. The guards all turned and clutched their rifles.
'S-settle down in there, scrapheaps!' The closest to him bellowed. A twang of nerves in his voice. From disparate corners they all gathered astride Crosswind's cell block.
'Sit down before we put you down. You'll be Home before you know it...' Rifles were raised as the emerald warrior made no response or motion to move.
'Your funeral. Control, drop barrier six.' Suddenly all power was shut down. Laser beams flared from Crosswind's fingers in the brief confusion. The guards all dropped down dead. Medic fully reactivated and sent out a psychic pulse for all to sleep. The prisoners then fell silent. A rescue mission on the scale of four hundred prisoners. Infinitely more manageable with such a multitude unconscious and not panicking.
Spy descended silently from the duct work. Looking up at Crosswind from hip height with a salute.
'Won't take the Preds long to realise they got a power cut in the cargo hold. We ready boss? Where's Jarhead??' The bulkhead doors swung up as if on cue and a huge winged Turtle sailed into view.
'Such a big mouth for such a small bot!' Soldier landed and loomed over his ally, his leader (and everyone else) before his final word was uttered.
'Keep it up and see how well you can make it home without me.' A prod from a single massive digit and Spy fell to the floor. His sidearm raised in defiance.
'Really? Try it!' Tension becomes palpable. Medic elbowed her leader.
'Enough!' Crossword ordered. Raising Spy to his feet with one hand. Shoving Soldier aside with the other.
'We have to ascend two levels and deactivate the shield generator. Blow the airlock for the cargo hold and signal for the dropship to decloak and get these people to safety. Now MOVE!!' The two Fliers transformed in unison. Crosswind's crescent shaped jet led the charge. Spy clung onto his nosecone. Medic sat in more comfort, atop Soldier's shell. As his four wings pounded with speed to almost match any thrustor. Clicking a trigger point in her knuckle. Medic sealed the corridor behind them with a remote charge. The prisoners would be safe for now.
One floor away from the shield generator, an alarm began to wail. Peering out into space through a window in the corridor. Spy quickly gathered it wasn't due to their presence.
'We got trouble!' Pillars suddenly burst through the superstructure of the freighter to emphasise his point. All at once, hatches began to open and many identical entities emerged. General design marked them as mechanical. As Fliers. But none that the team recognised. A strange emblem embossed their otherwise featureless faces. A single, central green eye glowed in contrast to the blue design. Continuous mild tremors indicating further rods were falling throughout the ship. For a brief moment all invaders were still. Thanks to the vaunted ceilings. The rescue team seemed to fly by unnoticed. Until the Predacons appeared! The cyclopean army set upon them instantly. Weapons had little chance to fire. Their speed, strength and ferocity were awe inspiring. Limbs were torn asunder. The screams of their enemies filled the ship and Crosswind's team moved faster and kept as far away from either side as possible. The melee however, appeared indifferent to their movements. They all knew this wouldn't last. Ahead, another pillar crashed through the doors to the shield generator. Six invaders descended and inadvertently blocked their advance. Still unnervingly silent and immobile. The cries of the Predacons were lessening behind them.
'1,6' Crosswind began the inner comms sound off.
'3,4' Soldier confirmed. You could almost hear the salute in his voice.
'2. Guess that leaves 5 for the pipsqueak!' Medic, sardonic as ever.
'Oh even the Doc's a comedian now, eh?' Spy would remember the affront. Even made in jest.
'On. My. Mark. ..Engage!!!'Null rays retract from crescent wings. A temple patch is depressed and a visor lifts. The turtles two front wings invert, replaced by massive cannons and a sharpshooter withdraws an ion sniper rifle. The six invaders are atomised, melted, shattered and lobotomised in short order. There was little time to take stock of their foes. Smashing though the cylinder, they found the battle already raged in the generator room. Medic spring-boarded herself from Soldier's rear wing. Spy swung to Crosswind's underside, to avoid the scattershot weapons fire that was filling the room. Deftly landing next to the control console. Medic took the last, lead Predacon by surprise. Who was too distracted by the sudden appearance of unknown Fliers, buzzing around the raised gangways. A simple flip and momentum carried them over the railing, towards the certain oblivion of the core below. The other gangways were filling with the dead and dying Predacons. Only two invaders were responsible for all the carnage. Largely undamaged. Yet the corpses now halted their advance. Spy quickly threw two charges at them and both were engulfed in force bubbles. In spite of their best efforts to free themselves. For the time being they were subdued.
'Ok! Shields are down in two cycles. Let's get outside!' Her task complete. Medic punches through the control panel and leaps over the railing. Landing on Soldier's low pass before firing from her visor again at the predetermined stress point. The outer wall implodes and all four race into the void without fear. If the carnage of within was a helpful distraction to their mission. There was no such luck outside.
The cylinders extended just as far on the outside. Minus Predacons or the organised structure of basic ship design. Invaders silently amassed on the hull. Slowly making their way towards both the engines and the bridge. Unfortunately, between the team and the exterior of the cargo hold. At least fifty marched forward. For a brief moment. They all hovered in place. There was no pursuit from behind them. Above, the presumed enemy mothership. A vertical, wheel-shaped saucer. Encircled by a rim of hollowed circles. No doubt, the origin point of the cylinders.
That emblem again, emblazoned on the sides of the saucer. Crosswind found it extremely troubling that he had heard nothing about this faction? He recognised the brief shimmer of the cloaked escape ship. But it was in the shadow of the saucer's far side.
'Tinker's playing it smart, as usual.' A shared remark across the comms.
'Any ideas, boss? I surmise the invaders must be locked onto the energy signatures of the Preds. That's why we've gone unchallenged so far. Without any Preds out here. That could change at any moment.' Spy still clung the underside of Crosswind, as he spoke over the comms. His own altmode would be a disadvantage to the Fuzor in the void of space. He was all too aware of his own limitations. There was a moments pause before Crosswind responded.
'Tinker. I'm going to need you to break cover and head straight for the rescue site. Medic. Begin charging a psionic pulse. When I give the word, sound a retreat. Soldier. Proceed as planned. At the right moment, all four cannons on the extraction point. Spy. That's where you'll be. Draw them towards you and get ready to move when Soldier fires.''I'll be sure to give ya plenty of warning, loud mouth...' Soldier's inflexion put Spy on edge.
'You'll do as I command!' '..Yes, sir.' Soldier replied, deflated.
'On my mark. ..Engage!'None asked what part their leader would play in this strategy. Since normally it was the most dangerous and/or suicidal. In another life, Crosswind went by the name of Rhinox. Before being chosen by the Matrix itself. They all came from prior lives. The last of the Fuzors. Secreted away before the massacre in the Beast Wars. Hidden by Sky Shadow. The location of these next generation Fuzors, entrusted to his only Maximal friend. In his new guise, come for them he did. Though wary at first. Now, many missions in. They were spark bound to his cause. Their faith, their trust in him. Unshakeable.
A quick barrel roll and Spy was launched though space. Rappelling himself in position on the hull, behind the invader horde. No head turned to heed his advance. Withdrawing his sniper rifle. He detached and reconfigured it into two semi-automatic blasters. He terminated six of the rear guard, before they took notice. Turning in an unnatural way. They all stooped onto all four limbs and began to steadily charge at their attacker. Spy was enough of a sharpshooter to hold his own. For now.
Medic disengaged her own magnetic rappel from Soldier and controlled her ascent forwards until she was high above. Orbiting the invaders. Apparently too small to be noticed by their ship. Which she was grateful for. She began to charge her powers.
Soldier took his position next to her. Directly over Spy. Although they were far from friends. Soldier was secretly impressed by the efficiency of the battle prowess he observed below. A no-mans land of two kliks encircled his ally. The edge of which was now littered with corpses. None yet breached it. Knee to head. Shoulder to spark. Ammo was used effectively and with deadly precision. Physically weak, Spy had worked on his munitions training to an obsessive and ultimately, expert level.
An explosion overhead caught the attention of the two airborne Fuzors. Crosswind had engaged the enemy saucers. A succession of missiles and Null blasts into the launch hollows along the rim seemed to achieve substantial damage to the craft. As Crosswind wagered, there was no return fire. This was a troop transport. Not a battle ship. It began to lose it's orbit with the freighter. Soldier grew concerned it was going to fall on top of them. With the threat of danger from the vessel removed. The dropship decloaked and advanced towards the contact point.
'All units.. NOW!' The signal was given. Spy holstered his firearms onto his thighs and they converted his feet into rocket boots. Depressing both temple patches, Medic unleashed a tremendous wave of psionic energy. The Invaders writhed in agony and all transformed en masse. Fifty Fliers rocketed uncontrollably upward. Impacting into their own mothership as a barrage of missiles. Spy continued to soar towards his circling leader, as Soldier's four cannons unleashed their full payload on the hull below. The No-mans land becoming a crater point. The dropship took position above the hole and activated a tractor beam. The prisoners began to be drawn in. The mothership detonating beyond with the impact of it's last returning occupant. The team entered when the last prisoner was onboard and the dropship accelerated away and into Transwarp space.
Meanwhile, the remaining invaders completed their sabotage of the engines and bridge. All flew away in formation to parts unknown. Moments later ,the freighter too blew apart.
'They are called the Neocons. The soldiers are designated as "the Host". That's all I got from surface scans of their datatrax.' Medic didn't seem reassured from the limited information she could gather. No commander or controlling intelligence led that sortie. Confirming Spy's hypothesis that they were pre-programmed to specifically target the occupants of the freighter.
'Unfortunately, a scan of us was transmitted out before their ship blew.''Well that can't be helped. We'll have to be more vigilant from now on. Neocons, eh? Let's get these folks to the refuge. Good job team! This was a big win. Even if we didn't go unnoticed this time.' Crosswind smiled at the accomplishment for the first time in solar-cycles.
Epilogue, The Great Ship MaliceThe Beast continued to defiantly exist. Every attempt to destroy it was unsuccessful. Even stasis lock didn't work. Fifty two days after my reported demise. The decision was made to imprison it within the bowels of the ship itself. For all that Vok knowledge, Terrorcon was still oblivious to future tech. He found me adrift in Transwarp space. Gauging my power as too much to control. My spark was extracted into a weaker, modern Protoform. My services were then called upon. The reward being "restoration" with my original body. I agreed. For my own amusement. Providing intelligence and tracking several key points of acquisition for the Neocons. Putting down one or two potential adversaries also.
The greatest assassin in the universe. A title earned centuries hence. But no less assured. Even the mystic witch could never fathom my datatracks. Nor glean any secret from them to aid herself or her master. My Transtector technology, similarly. Utterly bemused and beguiled them. The Beast isn't the technology. My spark was. The "Grand Emissary" assumed I was trying to keep my spark alive in our final moments through power diversion. I was merely buying time to complete the initial upload of my spark, back to where it belonged. That was the secret of Transmetal 2 technology. We survived the Great Plague by becoming malleable with our physical forms. The spark is who we are. The body, simply anything touched by it. The Beast will serve me here. There are none to challenge it in this backwater time. When the Tetrajet returned to the Great Ship Malice, from Sanafar. The uplink was established and my spark transferred back into The Beast. They had no way of knowing. Or even suspecting.
The weak form was recycled without ceremony. Terrorcon didn't even see to it personally. The moment the Malice entered the Gigas Nebula. Sensors scrambled. The time for subterfuge was over. I made my escape with such speed and stealth, I was in an escape pod in eight point six minutes.
I gazed upon the majesty of the vessel as I faded into the nebula. Through methodical planning and ruthless execution. The Neocon had all but won. Lesser beings would have been compelled towards revenge. But not I. That would have been suicidal. Instead, I have one gambit to play that should see me on top. The reign eternal of Iguanus, will then begin in this primitive age.
![Maximal :MAXIMAL:](./images/smilies/maximals.png)
To Be Continued
![Predacon :PREDACON:](./images/smilies/predacons.png)