NOTES: This story is a companion-fic to SILVER FUTURE, for those who REALLY want ALL the details about what Samiel and Harrier were up to. Mature readers only.
Thanks to Amy K. Cyrway for the Predacon Laserbeak and Predacon Buzzsaw concepts. Cyrway is also the creator of Pantera, Blancwulf and Artemis Prime. Jenny DeSalme is the creator of Inuarai. Transformers, Maximal and Predacon, Autobot and Decepticon, Tarantulas, Ravage and Optimus Primal, and the Beast Wars concept belong to Hasbro. All other characters are my own.
She seated herself on the side of the bed and looked down at her prisoner with gleaming ruby optics. He was in rest cycle, still quivering every once in a while as an aftereffect of the truth serum dart sheıd shot into him. Carefully, she plucked the needle dart from the place where she'd fired it--into the flesh above the major artery in the left arm.
She caressed the Maximal's flesh with a gesture that was almost affection; then felt immediate guilt as the Maximal logo on his upper arm shimmered in the light. Predacons were built to rule, after all, and Maximals were built to die. It was her duty, her destiny, to destroy as many Maximals as she could...
...but not this one.
He was hers.
Once, her name had been Tempest, leader of the Decepticons, initiator of the great Decepticon Rebellion. She had been the one to destroy the false peace that had settled over Cybertron in the aftermath of the Quintesson Occupation of Earth. She had been the one to remind the Decepticons that a lasting peace with the Autobots was impossible. She had been the one to...fail, beaten by Artemis Prime, the Autobots, and the Loyal Decepticons. The one who'd been harried across the galaxy as Cybertron's worst war criminal. The one to cut a deal with the Tri-Predacus Council...a new pledge in exchange for a new life. She agreed to do some jobs for them, and they, in turn, reformatted her as a Predacon...a yellow and blue archaeopteryx. These days, she called herself Samiel. It was the Turkish word for "sandstorm," but she liked the literal translation: "poison wind."
Her most recent tasking had been to ride the trans-warp wave back to primitive Earth, searching for Tarantulas, Ravage and Pantera. All three had failed to report in on schedule. Since her arrival, she'd learned that Tarantulas was merrily pursuing his own agenda, Ravage was dead, and Primus only knew where Pantera was. Now, her choice became--to take out the criminal Megatron for the Council, or to destroy the Maximals herself?
So...why not do both?
Her head swung, once again, to her prisoner...a white and brown Transmetal. Even in robot mode, his frame carried the big splotches that marked his foxhound beast mode. At his sides, powerful VTOL engines were folded in close to his body. He was a Maximal. She should kill him.
~I could never kill him.~
His name was Harrier. Long ago, he'd been her second-in-command, in the days when she'd been nothing more than a space pirate. He had been a Decepticon jump-jet then, painted in camouflage green and brown. Even as a Maximal, the big brown blotches and the VTOL engines reminded her strongly of what he had once been.
How in Primus' name had he ended up a Maximal? She'd thought he was dead...thought she'd killed him when he accidentally turned up on the receiving end of a missile. Part of her still couldn't believe that he was there in front of her, but her interrogation had proved it. Her truth serum was potent stuff, and in his semi-delirious state, he'd told her things that no one else could ever have known. Harrier had been far more than her second-in-command...he'd been her best friend.
Samiel lay down on the bed beside him, stroking his forehead. He stirred in his sleep, rolling over against her, tucking up his arms and resting his hands against the beast head on her chest. Part of her was shocked by his sudden nearness, but she didn't find it unpleasant and so resisted her initial impulse to draw back from the unexpected touch.
"Tempest..." he mumbled.
Almost automatically, she reached out her arm, and then hesitated.
What was she doing?! He was a MAXIMAL, Primus damn it, one of the enemy! One of the weak!
A pang tore through the yellow female's body. She'd spent a hundred years alone, first as a fugitive, then masquerading as a Predacon. Primus, she wasn't a Predacon...she was a Decepticon in a Predacon's body. She didn't understand the Predacon culture, didn't belong with the other Preds, and most of all, she had once been a Decepticon leader and she would NOT grovel to any newly-online Predacons who decided to call themselves a ruling council!
It hurt, to not belong...
~Forget belonging. Survival is your priority. Survival...~
But for the first time in her existence, she was beginning to question what she was surviving for.
She looked down at her prisoner again. Harrier the Maximal had been an easy catch. He hadn't even put up a fight.
~of course not, he recognized you, and even though you almost gutted him, he wouldn't take up arms against you. He never would. He was always there for you, watching your back...~
She supposed she'd missed him in those years after his presumed death. She'd buried herself in the work of fighting the Rebellion, and after that, it had been a challenge to simply stay alive. She hadn't had time for grief or...
Loneliness. Was that the name of the pain that had haunted her all those years?
She'd never put much stock in emotions, and didn't plan to start. Some feelings were useful when controlled--pride, desire, anger--and it was to those that she turned now.
She wanted Harrier. Maximal or no, she wanted him.
~So...what do you always do, Tempest or Samiel or whoever you are?~
~I find what I want, and then I take it.~
~So...take it. Simple as that.~
She was tired of being alone.
Samiel reached out her arm, taking his shoulder in a grip and shaking it. "Wake up," she said, in a low and urgent voice. "Wake up, Harrier."
"Mmm...Tempest?" the foxhound-bot mumbled, still mostly asleep.
"Yeah. Come on, Harrier. Wake up." She tapped him on the cheeks with her open palms.
He blinked once, twice, then focused his optics on her. "What the...Tempest, is that you?" He seemed to have forgotten where he was.
She nodded. "Welcome to the Beast Wars, Harrier."
"Beast..." He sucked in a breath. "Primus, I wasn't dreaming, I really am..." Harrier bolted upright to a sitting position, staring down at his Maximal body. "I'm a...and you're a..."
"Predacon," she replied.
He flashed her a cockeyed grin. "So, I suppose I'm your prisoner, eh, my lady?"
"That's what my troops think." She leaned in closer, flashing him a fanged grin.
"Then I'm in...interrogation?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Well then." He lay back down, gazing up at her. "Interrogate away."
"Oh, Harrier. You always were the willing target." Samiel leaned over, resting her hands one on either side of his head. "Are you sure there isn't some cute little femme on Cybertron worrying about you right now?"
Part of her was afraid there was. Harrier had always been a notorious ladies' bot, never staying with the same girl twice, which had always given Samiel/Tempest ample opportunity to seize his attention when she'd wanted it...but most of the reformatted bots she knew of had been profoundly changed by the experience. Reformatting had a way of changing a bot...
~not to mention death...~
She didn't want to think about that, didn't want to think about how Harrier could be here, if he'd died so long ago, and certainly didn't want to think that she'd been the one to pull the trigger.
And Harrier had always wanted a mate...had even taken one, at the end of the Quintesson Occupation. Samiel herself had never wanted a mate ever again, not after...
~that bastard was NOT my mate, no matter WHAT he called himself! I belong to no one but myself!~
No, she had no desire to find herself tied down to anyone, but who was she to deny Harrier what he wanted?
~Damn it, Harrier's MINE!~
The foxhound-bot shook his head slowly. "Plenty of girls," he admitted, looking somewhat ashamed, "but nothing serious."
"Well, good." Samiel leaned in close, shifting until she was on all fours overtop of him. "Because I'd hate to have to slice some pretty little femme to pieces." To illustrate, she clicked the long claws on each of her fingers.
"No...ah, no worries," Harrier said, blinking up at her.
She ran a single finger down his chest. "What's the problem, Maximal? Your programming isnıt telling you to resist me, is it?"
"Programming be damned," he muttered, staring up at her.
***
Ever since he'd awakened up here, precious little had made sense.
Heıd popped out of his stasis pod to find himself in a new body, on a new world, and surrounded by strangers. Although he vaguely remembered having been a Maximal on Cybertron, that designation meant almost nothing to him. Heıd always thought of himself, first and foremost, as the Duke of the Decepticon Empire. How heıd ended up in a Maximal body was a mystery to him. He couldnıt quite shake this nagging feeling that he shouldnıt be alive at all...
Oh, but if he was alive, he was going to enjoy it...and enjoy it he had, but all along, heıd felt that there was something missing--an unspeakably large hole in his spark--and every night, his dreams had been haunted by a vision of a lady in gold and blue. Unable to find her on Cybertron, heıd joined Optimus Primalıs exploring crew to search for her elsewhere. And find her he had...on prehistoric Earth...reincarnated as a yellow archaeopteryx, calling herself Samiel.
Through it all, heıd found it easiest not to think. Donıt question the new body. Donıt ask how you got here. Donıt even wonder why youıre alive. Follow the Maximals, do as youıre told...
...and now, he was here in a Predacon ship with his lady.
Sheıd done something to him--a drug--but his mind was clearer now. He remembered his previous life, and it was a relief to discover that he wasnıt crazy and he hadnıt just made the whole thing up. He really had been the Duke of Decepticons, once, in a former life...
...and Tempest or Samiel or whoever she was, she really existed, and she had been his...
...no. Not his mate, not his girlfriend. Heıd been a player then as now. She had been his leader, and his best friend, but nothing more.
...nothing? He seemed to have memories of his past self, and hers, being far more intimate then mere friends had any right to be.
~Real memories, old boy, or just wishful thinking?~
Whichever, they were bloody well irrelevant right now, considering that his lady was practically on top of him and looking him straight in the optics with a predatory smile. Thinking too hard about this one was only going to confuse him...and distract him from the matter at hand.
Somewhere deep inside, he could hear the urges of his Maximal programming. ~Sheıs a Predacon! Fight her! Get away...resist her!~
~I donıt want to resist her.~
No...not in the least. He was more than willing to do whatever his lady asked of him. From the look on her face, it seemed she had something quite naughty in mind.
~Traitor! Youıre a Maximal...~
~Iım a DECEPTICON.~
~What about Pantera...and Blancwulf, and Inuarai? The Maximals trust you.~
Looking up at Samiel, Harrier had only one response to the voice in his mind.
~Oh, SHUT the bloody hell UP!~
***
Harrier did not seem to be complaining. Good. That would make things much easier...and possibly more entertaining...
~Samiel, youıre sick. Heıs a MAXIMAL! Youıre supposed to kill him, not...what youıre thinking of doing!~
There was her old doctrine of ³survival of the fittest/Predacon superiority² kicking in. In the past, it had served her well...
Another stab split her spark.
A hundred years of loneliness was damn well enough. Harrier had hardly been her only lover, not even her first, but in the end sheıd liked him best...partly for his proficiency, but mostly for his sincerity. He was her friend, both before and afterwards. He was the only one sheıd ever trusted enough to allow herself to fall asleep beside him. And dammit, she wanted him now, and she wasnıt going to let any Predacon programming tell her otherwise.
~I will do as I please, Maximal or no!~
Growling low in her throat, she ran her talons over his chest, not hard enough to draw blood or coolant, but enough to leave thin white lines in the synthetic skin-construct that covered his beast-mode components. His chest was protected by a coat of chain-mail and her talons tugged at the small metal rings. He groaned softly but did nothing to pull away from her.
Grinning, she settled herself atop his hips and searched the chain mail until she found the tiny links that formed a seam down the middle. She popped the links one by one, slowly, staring into his optics the whole time. Harrier whimpered, squirming beneath her, but she refused to rush. Samiel waited until the last link had been opened before she drew back the chain-mail coat. In the center of his chest was a triangular-shaped indentation, the bottom of which was emblazoned with a Decepticon logo. She smiled, tracing the outline of the symbol with her right index finger. ³Old loyalties?² she whispered.
³I am...what I am...² Harrier gasped.
³Maybe the Maximals donıt have as much of a claim on you as they think.² She grinned, tickling his stomach area ever so lightly with her claws, careful of the newly-repaired wound sheıd inflicted back before she knew who he was. Samiel almost laughed as he gave her a doglike grin, complete with tongue hanging out, that so comically resembled a deliriously happy foxhound. Evidently the beast mode influence had crossed over to his robot mode.
³Maxi...what?² he mumbled, a dazed look in his optics.
She leaned over him, smirking, her fingers searching for the edges of his chest panels. She didnıt need to look down in order to pop the panels and open them wide; instead, she amused herself by waggling her eyebrows at her poor little prisoner. Slowly, she wove her fingers into his wiring, listening to him moan and writhe in delight. The interface cable should be here somewhere...
...somewhere...
...slaggit, where the hell was the interface cable?
³Tempest, please,² Harrier begged, and she knew he thought that she was deliberately teasing him. Although she wasnıt above such a maneuver, by now she was getting somewhat impatient herself and...where in the PIT was that cable?! Finally, she leaned back, sitting upright overtop of him, peering into the chest cavity.
Nothing. Plenty of circuitry, neural relays, fuel lines, veins...but no interface cable that she could see.
What the...?
Suddenly embarrassed--and there were precious few things that could embarrass a Predacon general--she looked down at him, feeling sickeningly helpless.
***
Harrier winced, shutting his eyes, trying to control the hunger that was tearing through his neural net. In this moment heıd do anything, ANYTHING, to make her stop toying with him and continue...
...~though,~ he thought with a bit of a grin, ~if this is how the Predacons customarily torture their prisoners, I donıt see what the Maximals are complaining about.~
Hard on the heels of that thought was another, a realization. ~Sheıs stopped?~
Harrier opened his eyes to see Samiel looking down at him with an expression of frustration and distress. He struggled to catch his breath and force the words out. ³Whatıs wrong?²
She looked down at his chest cavity, at her hands, and said nothing.
Something was very wrong. He bit down his rising desire and concentrated on her. ³Come here.² Gently, he took hold of her lower arm and guided her down beside him. Part of him was afraid sheıd smack him--after all, she was ship commander and not in the habit of taking orders from anyone--but in this case, she seemed willing enough to dismount from his hips and curl up beside him. She tucked her arms against her own chest and coiled up in a ball, gazing at him with enigmatic optics. Her body was stiff, as if she were angry, but her optics were disturbed and...that light...was that pain? ³Whatıs wrong?² he asked again, rolling over on his side to face her.
She gestured down at his chest, snorted something that might have been a whimper, and then reached out and clutched his shoulders in a grip so tight and fierce that he winced. She slacked off a little, but still stared wordless into his face.
³Tempest, I canıt fix it if you donıt tell me whatıs wrong.²
³Ca...cable,² she choked, reluctantly.
He blinked. ³What the...Tempest, these shells are different from our old Decepticon bodies...donıt you know that?²
The look of resentment and shame on her face indicated that she did not.
Harrier tilted his head on the pillow and reached out a hand to her face. She did not protest as he ran it down her cheek and under her jaw. ³How long have you been a Predacon?²
³Forty-some stellar cycles,² she muttered.
³Forty years, and you havenıt interfaced with anyone in all that time?²
Heıd spoken without thinking. She drew back, rising up and snarling. ³And whatıs it to you?²
Harrier bolted upright, sitting, reaching a hand to her as she rose from the bed. He grasped her shoulder. She tore away, giving him a stinging slap on the arm. Instinctively, he drew his arm back. Her optics were blazing with angry light and he whimpered softly.
³Iım sorry,² he murmured. ³Tempest, donıt go.²
³My name is Samiel.²
³Samiel. Please...²
She turned her face away from him. ³And youıre a fine one to be giving orders in my ship.²
³Iım sorry.² He looked down at the bed, then gathered his courage and raised his optics to hers. ³Primus, Sammi, I canıt believe youıve been alone for so long...²
Her face was hard, guarded. ³I survive,² she said tersely. ³You know that.²
~Survive...at what cost?~ He could sense the pain behind her anger--he knew her well enough for that--and it hurt him, to see her in the teeth of her old demons once again. Harrier reached out for her again.
³Oh, Sammi. Iım so very sorry. How could you stand it?²
***
~Not very well.~
~Oh, shut up, Tempest. You survived. You can survive anything.~
³I survive anything,² she growled.
But he was holding out his arms to her, his expression entreating, looking up at her with a shyly hopeful smile. It was within her power to turn her back on him and walk out; she knew he would simply curl up on the bed and drift into rest cycle, sleeping off the aftereffects of the serum. Or, she could... Her choice. Her power. She thought about it for a moment, realized that her body still wanted him, and she longed to crush that dull lonely ache in her spark.
Sheıd take this.
Allowing a slow grin to spread across her face, Samiel took the two steps towards him, seating herself on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and staring at him optic-to-optic. ³All right, Maximal,² she said with a hungry smirk as she ran her claws over his shoulders, ³either you tell me about the new upgrades to these shells, or else...things are going to become uncomfortable for you.² With her final words, she dug her talons into his arm for just a second.
Harrier gasped, but the sparkling light in his optics told her that he was a very willing participant in this interrogation. ³Very well, General,² he murmured in her auditory receptor, ³I suppose thereıs no point in holding out any longer...²
³No point at all,² she agreed smugly.
His fingers ran down the sides of the beast head on her chest, over the swivel joints at her waist, down to the half-skirt of feathers that covered the backs of her hips. The skirt did not extend all the way around her waist; the front was open, exposing blue metal armour. He slid his hands forward until he reached the first feather on each side, and then, slipped his hands beneath the feathers, running his fingers over the armour, searching. Samiel growled, nipping his neck, pressing against him.
³Here we go,² the foxhound-bot said in a low voice, finding the catches of her armour plating, delicately removing the blue metal shell.
Samiel let go of him for a moment in order to look down curiously. Since her reformatting, sheıd done precious little exploration of the new shell. As long as it functioned, that had been all that had really mattered to her. Sheıd been busy doing her work for the Tri-Predacus council, but sheıd had no interest in any personal relationships with Predacons. She was cold and professional, always, aloof, proficient, guarded, deadly...and, she admitted, perhaps sheıd developed some arrogance in her years as Decepticon leader. Furthermore, she did not trust the Tri-Predacus council or its lackeys. She would not allow some spy to become close to her, to learn her secrets and her weaknesses. She would not open herself to hurt that way. In distance there was safety.
There was already no point in trying to keep her distance from Harrier...it had been too late for that thousands of years ago.
Samiel watched as Harrier ran his hands over her hips and down to the insides of her thighs, rubbing gently but firmly... She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out and clenched her hands over Harrierıs shoulder guards for support.
"You still like that, mmm?" the foxhound murmured.
"You'd do well to...remember...who's...in charge here," Samiel shot back, but she was gasping as the pleasurable sensations snaked their way up her neural net.
"I'm quite willing to do as Iım told," he replied amiably, now massaging the rounded joints under the feather skirt and occasionally circling his fingers around the base of her tail. ³Why...do you have any complaints? Donıt you like this?²
~He knows damn well I like this,~ she thought, but unwilling to be one-upped by the Maximal, she suddenly pushed back on his chest and sent him falling back on the bed with a cry of surprise.
They were once again back where they started, with Samiel straddling Harrier, but this time she was in no hurry to sit herself down. She rested one hand on each side of his head and touched her nose to his. ³I donıt recall telling you to stop.²
"Oh...oh dear." He whimpered a little, as his hands resumed their exploration...and suddenly it was Samielıs turn to stiffen as he brushed something that sent what felt like an electrical shock through her whole body.
"That...do that," she ordered him, her voice almost breaking with emotion. His compliance was immediate. His fingers scanned the area, searching, and by observing her reactions he was able to home in on the exact place she meant. Samiel, meanwhile, arched her back and spread her legs to give him maximum access to the area. Gently, he began to massage the spot, watching as she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed...
***
On to Part Two
