Chapter Text
Reicere Airspace
“What’s that buzzing?” Catilla demanded, snarling at Waspinator, who cowered further into his corner.
« Someone’s hailing us, » Astrotrain grumbled. « Though I’ve got no idea who would -- huh. Okay, that…makes some sense. Yo, Blitzwing, wallowing in aft scraplets and sludge, I take it? »
“You rusty spawn of a glitch! What the hell are you doing here?”
« Playing taxi. You buy the fuel, we can get back to…well, wherever the hell the solar winds take us, I suppose. »
“Are you…”
« Hungover? Damn straight. I just want to refuel and get the hell outta here. »
“Uh, yeah, there’s a bit of a…complication. I can tell you once you land.”
« Complication? What kind of complication? »
“I’m not alone. I’ve got…three, four, five…six others with me.”
« And I got three here. Guess we can put them to work. I could use a nap. »
“Who is this?” Carnivac demanded.
« A fellow displaced ‘Con, run off from Galvatron’s tribe like me. He’s got others with him. »
“Where do they need to go?”
« He said he’d fill in the details once we land. Got six others with him. This part of your half-arsed plan? »
“Interesting,” Carnivac rubbed his chin. “Waspinator, do you have any insight on the matter?”
Waspinator looked up from his curled form, meeting the caninoid’s optics, before shaking his head.
“I think he knows something,” Catilla narrowed his optics.
“He’ll spill in time. For now, let’s see what these new friends have in store for us.”
“We should have taken the Maze,” Catilla growled.
“You hate the Maze. Besides, Boss told us to trust the datasphere, and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
“This is brittleslag,” Catilla took to the seat at the locked board and gazed out of the viewscreen. “If I don’t pick a fight in the next five clicks -- “
« You wanna pick a fight? Ever ejected at reentry speed? »
*
The shuttle banked sharply, wings almost vertical. Commotion rose behind the Decepticon crew as the seven remained rooted in place, watching a potential disaster unfold.
“And that’s a graveyard spiral,” Starscream groused.
“He has passengers,” Blitzwing admitted. “I think he was arguing with them.”
Gunrun tapped his visor, activating his sniper sight. “Yep, those tailerons are positioned for roll; that’s definitely on purpose. If this maniac manages to survive reentry, should we actually trust him to get us to where we need to be?”
“Any of you a long haul pilot?” Blitzwing questioned.
Brontes raised his hand. “Though to tell you the truth, comrade Blitzwing,” Brontes added, “I am more suited as an engineer; it had been our lieutenant commander who had been our pilot. I was his second when needed.”
“Roadside as well as Astrados had the misfortune of missing our mission start,” Skaði explained, optics remaining on the approaching shuttle. “You will do, Engineer.”
“Of course, Technician,” Brontes winced. “Barring, of course, if our transport does survive.”
Blitzwing turned his head towards Starscream. “Speaking from experience,” he cleared his throat, “you know what condition his hold is going to be after that.”
“Don’t remind me,” Starscream grumbled as the nose of the seemingly out-of-control shuttle banked upward, stabilizing out of the roll. Descent slowing, the bottom of Astrotrain’s fuselage glowed red from reentry.
The activity from the airfield brought emergency technicians that, by contrast to the chaos that was the bazaar, was well-orchestrated, parted around the seven Decepticons, fifteen different Cybertronian dialects s houting orders to one another, triggering crash foam along the western runway.
“Efficient,” Skaði, more interested in the actions of the emergency crew than the erratic triplechanger’s antics, mused as alarms and strobes intensified around them.
“He’s going to aft-over-nose on purpose,” Blitzwing grumbled.
“That would be madness!” Brontes exclaimed.
“That would be Astrotrain’s sheer spite,” Blitzwing retorted.
*
Catilla’s claws dug deep into a crack in Astrotrain’s hull. “What the hell are you doing?!” he snarled.
“He’s trying to intimidate us,” Carnivac, in a similar predicament, spat. “And it ain’t working!”
The red, holographic head cackled. « I couldn’t care less if you’re intimidated - I just want to see if it’s true about the bug! »
Waspinator ragdolled off the console, more exacerbated than frightened, before slamming into the far end of the hold’s stern, both arms and a leg dislodged from his torso. “You happy, trainbot?!” he snapped, attempting to use his remaining foot to drag one of his disembodied arms closer to his trunk.
“Huh,” Carnivac pressed his belly to the hold, grinning wickedly at the displaced Predacon. “No wonder the boss is interested in you.”
“Zzzzzzzpiderbot only tormentzzzz Wazzzzpinator!” Waspinator protested.
“Which means you’re an asset,” Carnivac countered. “Enough, Astrotrain, we accept your superiority or whatever the hell you want to call it. Just land in one piece!”
« Heh. I’ll land in one piece. » the transport chuckled and, with that, opened his cargo doors.
*
“Beasties, from the looks of it,” Gunrun reported as two figures tumbled onto the tarmac from the taxiing transport’s open cargo bay. Dismembered body parts flew out, followed by a torso. “And…one’s in pieces.”
“Oh ho!” Starscream chortled, optics narrowing. “The bug.”
“Insecticon?” Blitzwing questioned, walking around to Astrotrain’s nose as the transport reverted to root mode but remained face first in the tarmac.
“No.” The Air Commander took the lead, a malicious grin spreading across his face. ”An anomaly.”
The insectoid parts twitched, then, slowly at first but picking up speed to reattach themselves to the torso. Once assembled, the gold and green beastformer, with one last tug to his head, scanned the crowd --
-- meeting a very corporeal Starscream’s crimson optics.
With a shriek that rivaled the alarms, Waspinator bolted in the opposite direction, towards the warehouses and shacks on the horizon.
“I am not surprised to see that aberration again,” Starscream chuckled, raising his arm and aiming his null-ray, then frowned. “And he’s out of range.”
“On it,” Forestock rolled his shoulders back.
Magazine turned to Starscream as he approached his partner. “Dead or winged?”
“Wing him if possible. No real loss if you kill him, but his existence…interests me.”
“Gotcha.” Magazine saluted, combining with Forestock to form a high-power sniper rifle. Gunrun expertly grabbed the weapon and dropped into a prone shooting position.
“And…” Gunrun tapped, then squeezed the trigger. A loud, sharp crack echoed, a fraction of a click before Waspinator cried out, tumbling over an embankment. Gunrun bolted, transforming into an armored cycle, the gestalt rifle snapping into place in the auxiliary rack.
Skaði approached the other two beastformer Cybes, unphased by how close Gunrun sped past him, and regarded them coolly. “You are wrong ,” he snarled. “What is your intention?”
“Fraggin’ Maze,” the felinid snarled. “I knew it altered us.”
The caninid gritted his dentae and shrugged. Holding out his arms and looked up at the bronze and gold Seeker, he greeted, “Easy, buddy. We’re on your side right now. We followed a beacon here, Astrotrain here heard he had a friend -- “
“I wouldn’t go that far!” Astrotrain struggled to roll onto his back.
“ -- and here we are! So: which one of you is…” he pulled out the sphere from his hip compartment and focused on the reddish glow, “...the Technician?”
Starscream arched a brow and regarded his fellow Seeker, as Skaði nodded. “Please direct,” Skaði ordered, “any and all inquiries to the Air Commander.”
“Thank you, Technician,” Starscream nodded, then regarded the object in the canid beastformer’s hands. “Wait a cycle…I’ve seen something like this before…Technician.”
“A datasphere, yes,” Skaði nodded. “ Oculus Nemesis. ”
“It seems you know more about this than I, friend.” Carnivac returned the sphere to his hip compartment as Gunrun returned, Magazine and Forestock riding astride with Waspinator, now in stasis cuffs, draped over the back. “It took me the better part of a decacycle to glean that much from it.”
“Give it to him,” Starscream ordered.
Carnivac cocked his head to one side. “Excuse me?”
“Give the datasphere,” the Seeker leader enunciated, “to the Technician. Now.”
“You presume,” Carnivac harrumphed, “that you have command over me. No, my employer would wish to discuss matters with the Technician…and you, of course, Air Commander.”
“And what would stop me from just destroying you and taking it for myself?”
“Oh, we all know the answer to that.” Carnivac turned his back to the larger mecha and approached his feline companion. “Go secure refueling for our friend here. Nothing but the highest grade available. Looks like we have a detour to make.”
“Another one?” Catilla growled, but complied.
“There will be no other detour,” Starscream ordered.
“Except the one you’re making, to…Sol III. Ah, Earth. Good, good. One part leads to another, after all…and there’s two to choose from there. Dataspheres, that is. This is going to be fun.”
“Technician, Air Commander,” Brontes hissed from behind the Seekers, “I beg: a word, please.”
“Do you speak of history, or of lore?” Skaði questioned.
“The Eye of Nemesis summons both to the front, though history means nothing to our current turn of seasons,” Brontes admitted. “Thus only the lore may help with our cause.”
“Then hold your observation,” Skaði ordered, violet optics scanning the triplechangers and the beastformers, “until we are alone.” Quickly, to Starscream, he added, “Brontes’ tales bring wisdom at times. We should be wary of the company.”
“To be honest, this trip is turning out to be quite stimulating,” Starscream admitted. “And I sense that I will benefit quite well with practicing patience.” He frowned. “ Animae Quintessa. Does that --”
“Aye, Air Commander,” Brontes interrupted. “Aye, it does.”
Skaði exhaled, the gold markings flickering around his optics. “My liege,” he whispered, holding his fist to the canopy just over his spark. “Your reign will be glorious.”