In the event that anything unexpected should happen, Razorbeast was prepared. Although he looked like he was merely doing his job, washing the hulls of shiny patrol ships, it was his brain that was doing something else. He was patiently surveying every detail of his surroundings, like he did every day.
The six ships were lined parallel to one another, as always. There was no major damage to any of them, as always. The water sprayer was working perfectly, as always. The bay door was closed, so were the crew doors, as always. The temperature of the room was set precisely at 30 degrees Celsius, as always. All his internal servos, devices, and sensors were in peak condition, as always. He was as bored as hell, as always.
His memory banks tingled with the most amazing bits of information. He recalled the days when he was a pilot, only a few years old, but ready for any mission. He was one of the first protoforms, but definitely not one of the weakest.
Only days earlier, a breakthrough had been made in protoform technology, making all new Maximals with built in transformation circuits. Razorbeast was jealous, but didn't feel inferior. He hadn't had a transformation chip for years, not since he was a pilot. Only the best were allowed to have the ability to transform back then, and he yearned to live back during the Great War, when all could transform.
He was one of the best pilots in his league, of both large warships and small patrol ships. When he had gained enough of a reputation, he was given his own wings, his own transformation chip. For a while he felt like one of his Autobot ancestors, soaring through the sky with the greatest of ease. After a while though, he became too used to daredevil stunts and disobeying orders. He was replaced thereafter by younger pilots, and was stripped of his precious chip.
In record time, Razorbeast was finished washing the third patrol ship. He wasn't ashamed that he was a custodian now. This job did have a sense of duty to it. He was the one who would ensure the safety of all the pilots patrolling the neutral zone. The men and women who took these scout ships out on patrols would probably never acknowledge Razorbeast for his work. He knew he didn't belong there, but there was nothing he could do.
With the fourth ship finished, Razorbeast stepped back. Just like every day, he would take this moment to look at his work and smile. It had become so routine, smiling was immediate and impulsive. He could see his crimson reflection perfectly in the hull of the ship, and the Maximal insignia on his shoulder gleamed with brazen pride. After five seconds, he would continue.
He constantly monitored his surroundings perfectly. In the event that anything unexpected should happen, Razorbeast would know exactly what to do. He had thought of numerous reactions to all possibilities. The fifth ship had a minor dent in it's side, imperceptible to most, as always. The air was at a perfectly balanced density, as always. The floor was it's normal texture, as always. The gravitational forces on every one of Razorbeast's billions of body parts were stable, as always. But then, an explosion was heard.
Already knowing what he would do under those circumstances, Razorbeast closed the water sprayer nozzle, turned around and started running towards the nearest crew door. Before he could reach it to ask someone what was going on, he heard the distant siren of a Maximal policeman, followed by blaster shots and more explosions. The crew door he was headed for opened and out rushed exactly twenty four Maximal soldiers, just as he suspected. The bay door started opening so that all six ships could launch.
"What's going on?" Razorbeast asked the nearest Maximal. He had prepared for those very words for years. Now he regretted having to use them.
"Bombing at the protoform laboratory. Wanted Predacon felons Tarantulas, Waspinator and Terrorsaur sighted. Apprehension has been ordered at all costs." The soldier paused and frowned, looking at the water sprayer Razorbeast still held. "Why do you ask?"
Razorbeast didn't answer. He knew he really shouldn't have cared anyways, he wasn't a pilot anymore and this wasn't his business. He couldn't even transform.
The twenty four men and women quickly entered the small ships and started launching procedures. The hum of igniting fusion thrusters almost blew out Razorbeast's receptors as he walked through the crew door and down the hallway. Everything would be dealt with safely and without further disruptions. He was going home for the night. He would be back the next day at the same time, to do the same duty, as always.
His quarters were small, but not uncomfortable. He was often given the choice of upgrading his facilities for a minimal fee, but ignored the offers without a second though. Razorbeast didn't see why he should want to live anywhere else. He liked things just the way they were, and wouldn't change a thing. Back in his piloting days, his friends had called him stubborn. He didn't care if it still showed after all those years.
His dream sequences were particularly boring. Random thoughts scurried through his mind over and over, making little sense at all. When he woke up to the sudden sound of an alarm, the only dream images he could remember were those of an ugly brown creature and of a giant black vortex.
Once, a friend had told him that his dreams were the direct result of subconscious calculations. When the body shuts down, his brain would think at an accelerated rate. Taking into account every single factor about the previous days, months, even years, his brain was capable of predicting the most probable outcome of the next few days with perfect accuracy. Razorbeast thought it was impossible.
His attention now turned to his alarm. The multi-purpose device next to his CR chamber could wake him up, tell time, relay messages and find every possible way to be the most annoying thing Razorbeast had ever bought.
He thought it was time to wake up, but checking his internal chronometer, Razorbeast realised it was the middle of the night. He groaned wearily. "What is it?" he said to the alarm.
"Message from Maximal Command," the device said happily. He pressed a red button.
"Hello?" he asked.
"Is this Razorbeast, Maximal unit 3995..." said a strong male voice.
"Yeah," he interrupted. He hated hearing his serial name. 'How many 'bots named Razorbeast can there be,' he thought.
"This is Maximal Command, Optimus Primal speaking." Razorbeast suddenly gasped. He was speaking to one of the head Generals of his Sector.
"Yes sir!" he said as militarily as possible, trying to remember how. "What can I do for you at this time at night, er... at this time in the morning?"
"You were once one of the finest pilots in Sector 12." Primal paused but Razorbeast didn't know what to say. "I take it you miss the action, working as a custodian?"
"Yes," was the politest answer he could think of.
"Well, now's your chance to fly again. Often these communicators are not secured lines. Report to floor 539 of the Sector 12 Command Centre as soon as possible. Optimus out."
He sat for a moment, still booting up some of his programmes from his deep sleep. Then he stretched, grabbed his dual blaster and stored it safely in his back compartment. He headed down an empty hallway.
Floor 539 of the Sector 12 Command Centre was roaring with activity when Razorbeast arrived. He had no idea which one of the many busy Maximals he should talk to. He hadn't been in a military installation in twenty years, and recognised no one. Finally, a sky-blue armoured Maximal stopped and smiled.
"Razorbeast. I am Optimus Primal. Glad to meet you." Razorbeast noted that this was the forty-eighth Maximal he had met in his lifetime with a name resembling that of the ancient Autobot hero, Optimus Prime. Optima Prime, Optimus Prima, Optimal Primus and of course Optimus Primal were all common nowadays. Frankly, Razorbeast was glad his protoform programme had picked a more unique name.
"As am I, General Primal," Razorbeast responded pleasantly. "Why have you summoned me here?"
"You were in docking bay 12-83 when it all started, weren't you?"
"I've been there everyday at that time for the past twenty years," Razorbeast responded bitterly. "What do you mean by 'when it all started?'"
"You haven't been watching the vidnews?"
"No..." Razorbeast said.
"Well, the explosion you heard today was of three Predacon units breaking into the Sector 12 protoform laboratory. They were able to load an unknown amount of cargo from that area onto a ship, piloted by another Predacon, this one named Megatron."
"Which Megatron?" Razorbeast asked. Megatron was just as common a name as Optimus, at least among Predacons. Many ancient Autobots and Decepticons were rolling in their graves each time a new Maximal or Predacon would come on-line.
"Megatron, Predacon unit 9461UA3." The serial number was one that almost every Maximal recognised. This particular Megatron was wanted for the murder of countless Maximals, the theft of many devices, gadgets and ships around Cybertron, and for the illegal misdirection of finances, goods and energon, in other words, weapons manufacturing. He also had a knack of finding his way through Cybertronian patrols and getting into the most secure areas.
"He and an armada of other Predacon ships were able to get past our neutral zone patrols, into Cybertronian airspace, and make some serious damage. Sectors 3, 18, 45 and 65 are still bustling with Predacon activity, and we haven't heard anything from Sector 10 in hours. The death toll was last at 1,445 and climbing. It's an all out war. So far this is the safest Sector on the planet, but that may change in an instant. Hundreds of pilots have died, which is why we need you."
Razorbeast was trying to understand all of the information he was being given. None of it sounded good, but if they needed him to fly into battle, he knew he would. It was his duty as a Maximal, and as a citizen of Cybertron. This may have been his last chance at getting to fly his own ship for a very long time.
Optimus continued. "Megatron's group had a small part to play, but an important one. He and his comrades were able to steal an unknown amount of protoforms, all of which were not formatted and all with transformation chips. If we are right in our speculation, the Predacons are trying to find soldiers, and fast. Fortunately, we were able to find Megatron's ship in all the commotion, and follow it. As soon as he had his goods, he rocketed out of here in quite a hurry. Our warships were in pursuit, but then this happened..."
Optimus Primal pointed at the nearest viewscreen. It showed a large black vortex against the starry sky, identical to the one in Razorbeast's dream. He had unfortunately forgotten his dreams, or else he would have gasped in wonder. Instead he shrugged.
"What is it?"
"We aren't sure, but we know that with a sufficient amount of energon, one can create a transwarp field and propel a small ship basically anywhere in the universe, at any single point in time. The result is a trans-warp vortex, like this one. It may be possible to follow Megatron to wherever and whenever he went. Unfortunately, our warships are too large."
"So, send a small patrol ship!"
"We will, Razorbeast, we will," Optimus smiled and Razorbeast began to see the scope of things. He wasn't going into the heat of battle, they wanted him for something completely different. Razorbeast felt like complaining, but remembered why he had been a pilot in the first place. He was the one they wanted to follow Megatron, and bring him back under any circumstances.
"Why me?"
"I chose you because you have more experience than most other pilots, or soldiers. You're one of the best, and one of the fiercest fighters. Plus, you're profile clearly shows you to be outgoing, and adventure-seeking. I'd be glad to have you on my team."
"Your team?" Suddenly, Razorbeast was glad it wasn't a solo mission after all.
"Yes. Four of us will be taking a ship called the Axalon, right into that vortex. We must leave immediately, since the vortex will only last for another few hours. Chances are high that a return trip is impossible. You have every right to refuse, but I hope you will join me." Razorbeast couldn't back down, or his reputation as a Maximal soldier was over.
"I don't suppose I'll be going to work tomorrow," Razorbeast speculated.
Optimus Primal shook his head. "None of your patrol ships were spared, anyways..."
For the first time, Razorbeast realised that the events that had just occurred in the past few minutes were nowhere close to what he had predicted. Standing, washing the ships, he thought he had come up with almost every possible outcome for that day. Now he was faced with something fresh, something new. Razorbeast loved it.
"When do we leave?"
The activation sequence began and the inside of the stasis pod began to hum. "This had better work, Tarantulas," Megatron said eyeing the violet armoured Predacon warrior. Both Tarantulas and Waspinator were much larger than Megatron, but he was not easily intimidated.
"I have no guarantees that any of these protoforms will turn out to be full Predacons. Some of them have already been pre-formatted as Maximals, and won't easily convert."
"We shall take our chances..." Megatron said. They stood patiently in the ship's hold, as their new transformer came on line. Megatron clicked his comm- link. "Waspinator, what is the status of the trans-warp vortex?"
"It remains open, Megatron," Waspinator said from the bridge. "Luckily, no Maximal ships have come through."
"Good. I don't want any interruptions. A Predacon is about to be born," he said smiling.
"Scanning for suitable vehicle mode..." the protoform programme said. The scanners buzzed it's beams through the room, looking for any type of vehicular structure. None were found.
"Shall I try my idea?" Terrorsaur asked, when the programme failed to find a compatible mode.
"I suppose..." Megatron said wryly. Terrorsaur then hooked the stasis pod's scanning link to the ship's main computer. The sensors started searching again, this time into the vastness of space.
"It's not working, Terrorsaur," Tarantulas said. "There is nothing out there to transform into." Suddenly the protoform started bustling with activity.
"Suitable life-form found..." it said merrily.
"Where?" Megatron demanded. A nearby console started showing some co-ordinates, and Megatron relayed them to the bridge.
"Quickly, Waspinator, plot a course for that small planet. It has life, and possibly energon," Megatron yelled over the communicators.
"I wonder what this Predacon of ours is going to look like..." Tarantulas said curiously. "Biological life usually cannot mix with mechanical. This Protoform technology is amazing."
"Stupid Maximals... They don't know what they've let me get away with..." Megatron said. "Prepare the next protoform. My army begins here!"
On a small screen on the side of the stasis pod, an Iguana moved slowly across a rock.
On the 600th floor of the Sector 12 Command Centre, Razorbeast gaped in awe. The Axalon was small, but well equipped, and looked like a gem compared to the patrol ships Razorbeast washed everyday. A tall, brown clad Maximal was fastening gun turrets to the hull. If there was any ship that could do the job, this was it, and Razorbeast would be the pilot.
"Nice one, eh?" Optimus asked.
"I just hope I can remember how to fly," Razorbeast said to himself.
"Come, I'll introduce you." Optimus led Razorbeast up to the Axalon and waved up at the brown armoured Maximal, busy welding on another weapon. "Dinobot!" yelled Optimus. The other Maximal looked up from his work and climbed his way down to their level. 'Another one named after ancient Autobots,' Razorbeast thought.
Optimus and Razorbeast stood eye to eye, but Dinobot was almost twice as tall as either of them. "Razorbeast, I presume," said a low powerful voice.
"Yes. Dinobot, is it?"
"I am the weapon's specialist for this mission. By the looks of what Megatron and his allies did to those patrol ships, we're going to need everything we can muster," Dinobot looked up at his work and grimaced. "You are the pilot?"
"I am. Perhaps you could kindly show me to the bridge, Optimus. I wouldn't mind knowing how this ship works before our lives depend on it."
"I understand," Optimus said nodding. "Dinobot, we're leaving in about half an hour. Make sure we don't leave you here." Optimus then led Razorbeast into the ship. Many men were busy reprogramming the weapons systems on the inside, making last minute checks before launch. A small grey Maximal scurried up to them as they walked down the main hallway to the bridge.
"Hey, Optimus," he said handing the General a readout. "Done energon fuelling. We've got enough power in this baby to take us to Spica and back."
"Good work Rattrap. Meet Razorbeast, our pilot. This is Rattrap, our systems analyst."
"Hey. I'm only doin' this system analysis stuff as a favour. You know I'd rather be shootin' Preds with Dinobot."
"There will be enough time for that. I guarantee it Rattrap. I'd better show you to the bridge, Razorbeast..." Optimus said.
As soon as Razorbeast found his piloting console, he felt like he was young again. He recognised most of the controls, and could figure the rest out with a little practice. The Axalon was in fact merely a modified version of a ship Razorbeast had flown many times in his life. He was impressed by how important he suddenly felt.
He thought for a moment. "Optimus," Razorbeast asked suddenly. "Be honest with me... I take it we really have no chance in returning..."
"Not really..." said the General. "Time travel is a very difficult thing to master. Scientists have been trying for years, but to no avail. The destinations have been completely random in each experiment, so far. When a large energon explosion occurs near a ship, the matter of the vessel is immediately nullified. Since matter cannot be created nor destroyed, that matter is sent to a random position in space and time, exchanged with an equal amount of matter. There is no way as of yet to control where you are going. Megatron could be anywhere, anytime."
"If we fly through this particular vortex, we will follow him, though," Razorbeast said thinking.
"Yes. But, if the vortex closes before we can eliminate Megatron, and fly back through, we really have no way of finding our way home..." He couldn't even begin to imagine what could happen if Megatron had jumped back to their past. All would be altered, possibly even his own existence.
"Then the only way back would be if we make another vortex after Megatron is captured, which could lead us anywhere except home. I understand," Razorbeast said and examined the console once more.
For once he was almost glad he hadn't any close ties with anyone, or he'd be saying his goodbyes. Optimus, Rattrap and Dinobot were obviously full-time soldiers, ready for duty. Razorbeast felt honoured to be among real Maximals.
"Alright." Optimus said, taking a seat in his command chair. "Are all systems go, Rattrap?"
"Ready as they'll ever be," responded the small Maximal.
"Okay, Rattrap... So please turn the viewscreen on..."
"Sorry, there O. P," said the small Maximal, chuckling.
"Dinobot, how are your modifications?" the General asked as the viewscreen flicked on with a view of the docking bay.
"Excellent, Optimus. I have doubled our usual ammunitions for a ship this size," replied Dinobot smiling.
"Good. Razorbeast, set thrusters to full."
"Yes, sir." With the push of a lever, a melodic humming filled the bridge. A large bay door opened on the main viewscreen.
A voice came crackling over the communications system. "Axalon, you are clear for launch. Have a safe trip, and we hope to see you soon."
"Thank you," Optimus said, even though everyone knew they would probably never come back. "Take us out Razorbeast."
Tapping on a few buttons and pulling a small lever, the ship slowly began to move. In a few moments of exhilaration, Razorbeast had successfully manoeuvred the Axalon out of the docking bay, and up towards the stars.
"The co-ordinates should be showing up on your console there, Razorbeast," Rattrap said pushing some buttons.
Sure enough, a series of numbers jumped up and Razorbeast started heading in the required direction. He raised the pressure of the fusion thrusters and soon they were speeding out of Cybertron airspace, and into the night sky. Before long, six Maximal warships and the black vortex were visible. The trans- warp anomaly was swirling so that the stars behind it were oozing in and out of sight.
"Wait a click..." Rattrap said staring at the viewscreen.
"What is it Rattrap?" Optimus said.
"Is it just me or is that spiral getting smaller?" Sure enough, the vortex was already shrinking. Their chances of cancelling the mission and returning home were widening, but their chances of capturing Megatron were ebbing away.
"Not already?" Dinobot yelled. "I thought it was supposed to remain for hours."
"Axalon, this is the warship Catilla. You'd better hurry," came a voice over the communicators.
The remarks were ignored. "Razorbeast, let's get in there," Optimus said urgently.
"Right..." he said flipping a couple switches. The humming of the engine became a blaring thunder. "How much stress can this ship withstand, Rattrap?"
"I dunno..." Rattrap said despairingly. "Remember I'm not really into systems analysis..."
"Slag..." The thunder of the engines was almost deafening, as the hull slowly lost its integrity. "How wide is this ship?" Razorbeast asked. He had now completely dismissed the possibility of giving up and returning home. Megatron would be found, and destroyed, before anything could ever be changed in the past, or future.
"About fifty meters," Rattrap responded quickly.
"And how's that vortex doin'?" Razorbeast yelled over the engines.
"About 200 meters in diameter, but that's changing fast." Optimus said, looking over Rattrap's shoulder.
Suddenly, the others stopped speaking and merely watched the viewscreen. Meanwhile, Razorbeast was pushing buttons and flicking switches as fast as he could, trying to keep them all alive, and get them through that hole. As they reached closer, it seemed to just get smaller.
"It's at sixty meters diameter..." Rattrap said shaking his head.
"We'll make it..." Razorbeast said. He watched the six warships in the viewscreen. Pushing one final button, there was an enormous boost and everything disappeared.
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Razorbeast: Mission One (2 of 3)
