The High Road: Part 3
A long journey back to Cybertron to clear the Maximal's names. Many mysterys about the present siuation, the crew and the part are solved.
PART THREE
Phyphen glanced about the room, not really looking for anything in particular. Her eyes wandered around the bridge and it's many occupants. Phyphen sighed and rolled her eyes upwards. She was bored. Phyphen became bored quite easily when she was expected to stay in one place for a long period of time. She enjoyed being outside - indoors were for sleeping only, and sometimes not even that much. The young fox 'bot sighed again.
The young 'bot suddenly realised something. She reached into the small compartment on her sleek frame and remembered the small candies that she grabbed from the kitchen. She readily popped one in her mouth and let the sweet flavour cascade over her tongue.
"Mmmm... these are yummy! Anyone want a sweet?"
Phyphen stretched out her arm and in her palm lay a small collection of colourful sweets.
Trapper turns his head to the young fox bot
Trapper:
"What kind might you have?"
Wraith picked his head up, he'd slept long enough. He turned off his music and looked around groggily. There had to be babes somewhere nearby.
“What does this one do?”
Retro’s head shot up at the sound of the familiar and enthusiastic voice, the harbinger of distraction. “NOOOOOO!!!” He shot out of his chair and tackled the fuzor, with about as much body mass as she did, he had a hard time getting leverage against her, surprise was on his side though.
He managed to throw her onto one of the passenger seats and yanked out a length of harness from the seat belt. Fish’ giggled, enjoying the play-wrestling to it’s fullest. At last, Retro dusted his hands off, satisfied with his work. He’d managed to keep her in one place, while wrapping the belt around her and the seat as many times as he could. There was surprisingly a lot of strapping that came out of the seat-belt. Her head and legs were the only things exposed in the mummy wrap of seat-belt. And she was just now figuring out she’d been tied to the seat.
Ret let out a sigh as he plopped back down into his seat and started preparing for whatever sort of main drive this thing had. “That takes care of THAT.” He said, Burnout nodded lightly.
“Hey, what kind of engine readout is that?”
Retro turned and found Catfish looking over his shoulder. “NYAAA!! WHAT THA- I just… you…. HOW!?”
“Hehe, your funny.” She chortled. “That’s really cool though… induction drive eh? I don’t think they ever made one of those, nifty concept though… lets see….”
Retro was still scratching his head and muttering confusedly to himself as Catfish pushed him over a bit and sat next to him in the chair. She appeared to be looking up info and stuff, so Burnout saw no reason to stop her. Rita always said Fish was a whiz with computers, at least he hoped she wouldn’t blow the core…
as Trapper looks over the small candies in Phyphen's hand, a small blinking light shines on his wrist
Trapper:
"crap....um, guys, How armed is this particular ship"
Retro:
"Why do you ask?"
Trapper:
"oh no reason...just that my long range scanners are picking up something.....the ones on the Cheese Wedge are almost on overload...A very large battle ship is out there in this quadrent........and it is the opposite of friendly"
He sat on the ground, his back against the wall, shaking his legs leisurely. His hands were clasped at the back of his neck, and his eyes stared emptily into the distance. His mouth moved routinely like a motor, up and down and up and down as he chewed on the piece of gum in his mouth. A large, domed-shaped CR chamber stood stoically in front of him, its low, droning hum the only sound in the room. Few others passed the room; Querion sat alone in muted reflection. The wolf-bot suddenly chuckled to himself and shook his head.
"Been doing too much of this of late," he said, looking at Relic through the glass cover on the CR chamber. The chamber was locked tight, and was further fortified with a heavy iron bar welded against the sides to keep the hatch closed tight. Apparently others on the ship were still uneasy with the assassin's presence.
"Ain't life full of setbacks?" he smiled, half-amused, unaffected by the fact that Relic was not listening. "I keep dropping back into this chasm of self-reproach, even though I've warned myself against it time and time again. Seems I'm so used to it that I feel incomplete without it." Querion stopped, and chewed on the gum, before continuing, "I ought to be over this 'tragedy-complex' now. I ought to be glad that my sabre's broken, I ought to be glad that this means that I don't have to kill anymore. But I'm not. I mean, this is fragging screwed-up. I didn't want to kill back then, wanted to toss the sword away and run off, but now I feel... sad that my blade's in two. I can't figure myself out."
He tucked the wad of gum to a side of his mouth, and took a swig of his ale. The wolf-bot punched the button on his wrist, and the broken pieces of his sabre materialised on his lap. He scratched his chin, looking at them, and sighed.
"I'd told Retro that I was going to destroy them when we returned to Cybertron, but now I'm not sure I can do it. What should I do? Aaah. You're right. Why didn't I see that before? This blade is not a weapon to be used to destroy; it is a tool which I can use to protect." He slapped his forehead with a hand and started to chuckle. "It's so easy. I know what to do now. Always knew you could give good advice. But... now there's the matter about you."
Querion stared at the unconscious Relic for some time, hardly moving nor making a sound. He then spat out the wad of chewing gum, and started to laugh out loud, clutching his sides as they ached. Finally he straightened himself, and took a sip at his drink.
"I must be going crazy."
After the candies had been distributed, the young ‘bot popped one final candy in her mouth and placed the rest in her pocket.
The ‘bot settled herself back in the chair. Phyphen was uncomfortable. With cautious eyes she scanned the room, immediately her mind started screaming ‘Friend or Foe?!’. With every fleeting look the fox had to question the ‘bots silently in her mind; judging them. She hated the position she was put in. ‘Why did I follow Mimi in the first place? What made me get aboard the ship? How could I have been so stupid?’ Over and over these questions battled inside her mind.
All of this worrying had started to give Phyphen a splitting headache. Then with a sudden stroke of genius an idea just inserted itself into Phyphen’s mind.
She turned to the nearest ‘bot. “There are small vessels used for outside repair on this ship, right? Y’know, if there was a repair outside, a ‘bot could hop in the small vessel to repair the problem.”
Trapper paused and thought for a moment. “Yes, I suppose so. Every ship has some means of repairing – just in case.”
Phyphen smiled and placed her hands comfortably behind her back. “Where do you think it would be? I wanna take a look at it,” she crossed her fingers, “ I’m curious, I’ve never seen one before.”
“It should be on the last deck somewhere.” Trapper smiled at the young ‘bot as she raced out the door of the bridge. The ‘bot mused to himself, ‘It’s just a repair vessel, how could she never see one before, weird.’ The ‘bot shrugged off the thought and turned back to the conversation being held by the other Maximals.
**********************************
The young fox ran down the hallways and leapt into the elevator. She pressed the button and was carried down to the last deck. The elevator lurched and came to a stop. Phyphen stepped off. The air was much colder down here. Phyphen shivered and started her search for the small vessel. She poked her nose in room after room and found nothing. The last deck appeared to be empty. The ‘bot paused and turned left down a small corridor. She looked in the first door on the right and found the small vessel. A surge of triumph soared through her.
The vessel was just large enough for a moderate sized ‘bot. Phyphen looked around her escape vessel. She opened the front hatch and carefully stepped in. She looked at the control panel for a short while before deciding to press a red button on the left. The lights inside turned on and the machine started up with a soft hum.
“YES!” Phyphen continued to check the gauges and tinker with certain buttons. The small craft was full of fuel. Phyphen adjusted herself in the seat and strapped in. She pressed the green button and the hatch closed around her and sealed with a loud hiss.
The fox ‘bot’s breathing was coming very fast now and her spark pulsed with anticipation. “Home… here I come!” she said aloud and she opened the hatch of the Xavior. She placed both hands on the wheel and started inching towards the opening.
Outside was a wall of cold, unsympathetic blackness. Phyphen passes through the walls of the Xavior and just as she was thinking she was home free a series of sirens went off. The red light in the corridor was flashing.
Phyphen swore and slammed on the power to send the small vessel tearing out of the opening and into the black unknown. She switched on the grid map and set her course for her home planet.
A small asteroid was floating through space as Phyphen ripped through the blackness. Phyphen steered out of the way and just missed the asteroid. The young ‘bot swore again as she continued on her path.
****************************
Burnout glanced at the control panel in the bridge as the lights flashed overhead.
"Someone's stealing my fragging repair ship!" he snarled
[Predacon Headquarters: Command Center – The City of Endport]
A tense silence pervaded the Predacon Command Chamber as the small group of Generals waited in nervous anticipation of what was to come. Croak, Press, Blacklight, Rapier, and the towering Buster stood in a loose knot in the center of the room. Nearer to the wall, in the thin shadows of the room, lurked the inseparable Cloak and Dagger; backs pressed close to the wall as if in an attempt to hide. Even Grapple, in his weakened state, had managed to reach their gathering place. He lay crouched on the tiled marble floor; body still wracked by sudden fits of convulsion. Every so often the tortoise would croak and gurgle as the seizures took hold, straining every muscle cable in his body, and clamping his throat shut with a hand of steel. The other Generals watched, but said nothing. Under other circumstances they may have made light of the Predacon’s debilitating condition, but not now. Their own conditions were hardly better. Spat, they all noticed, was conspicuously absent.
They looked up suddenly as the short sharp sounds of the Commissar’s footsteps rang out behind them. After a few moments, which to their ears seemed a lifetime, the ‘bot himself appeared on the other side of an open door way. Large, imposing, and with the fully vested authority of the Tripredacus Council, he strode through the arch and past the waiting company. The obsidian Transformer continued on to the far side of the chamber, where a mid-sized Vid screen had been set up. The blank screen stood by itself in the empty expanse leading up to the empty Command dais. Though it displayed no picture, it already seemed to take on a presence all its own.
The Commissar halted beside the screen and looked back at the group of Generals. His face remained cold, impassive. If he had any personal thoughts about the current proceedings, he had hidden them well beneath a mask of cold steel. “You are all here. Good.” the Commissar began. “You will take your places here in front of the Vid screen. Speak only when spoken to. Answer promptly when questioned…you will not be asked twice.” The Commissar watched as the Generals moved slowly forward to take their places. After a hard stare, even Cloak and Dagger detached themselves from the wall. The last to take his place, Grapple, did so slowly, and with obvious discomfort. The convulsions seemed to have died down, if not the pain they caused. The Commissar smiled grimly. “I shall warn you to address this screen as though a member of the Council stands before you. The distance between you may be great, but the penalties for disobedience disrespect are the same.” The large black ‘bot nodded at them, seemingly satisfied. “The coded transmission will begin momentarily. Remember what I have said.” With that the Commissar removed himself to the far side of the room, where a small table, topped by a large metal, case had been recently installed.
The Generals continued to wait for the transmission to begin. They paid little attention to the Commissar, busy unloading the contents of the case, and stared only at the dark screen. For the first time in a very long time, they knew the meaning of the fear they so often inspired in others.
Suddenly the screen flickered from black to white. A small green light on the attached decoder box blinked on, and slowly, a shadowy picture appeared. The image was of an empty room, and a solitary seated figure, cloaked in darkness. The figure’s blood red optics, his only distinguishable feature burned menacingly through the gloom. There was little enough doubt as to his identity, yet the absence of the remaining two Council members still struck the assembled as more than a little odd. Something was wrong, and their circumstances said that they would be the ones to pay for it.
“Thank you for coming.” the voice from the screen said. “Though I suspect that you did so less than willingly.” The voice chuckled to itself. “If you will all extend your right arms, we shall begin.” A wave of sudden fear passed through the Generals, and they glanced nervously from one to another. Yet, in the end they complied.
From his post across the room the Commissar now moved, holding eight variously sized metal bracelets between his two hands. As he passed each General, he paused briefly to encircle each of their wrists with an appropriate band. Even Cloak and Dagger allowed themselves to be tagged. When he had finished, the Commissar turned and nodded to the shadowy figure. He stepped back to his old place by the table. Safely, he figured, out of the way.
“Excellent,” cooed the TriPred. “I shall begin by saying that though I am severely displeased with recent events, I have graciously decided to spare your pathetic little lives.” There was a visible sign of relief from many of the Generals. It seemed that most of the danger had passed.
“However,” the voice continued, “I remain displeased with your disturbingly ineffective security measures. Not only have they resulted in the destruction of valuable military goods and personnel, but also in the death of a highly valued operative of the Tripredacus Council; a being whose skill and worth you cannot even begin to comprehend. I would even venture to say that you have caused this Council greater injury through your lack of vigilance, than any major army has managed to do to us in a decade.” He let his words hang in the air for an instant, waiting for their impact to sink in. “I am displeased,” he said. “The Council is displeased.”
“Yet,” the Council member continued, “You may yet have the opportunity to redeem yourselves. A thing which does not occur often in this life, or any life for that matter. Presently, the Council has need of your skills more than it has the need for your execution.”
The image of the Tripredacus Councilman disappeared abruptly, replaced by the image of Rhapsody. Her name, age, and vitals appeared in small white text at the bottom of the screen.
“Your new assignment, is simple in nature. The rouge Maximals responsible for the death of your former Commander are to found and executed. Personally. At the present time they constitute a risk of incalculable magnitude to our forces and military operations, overt and covert, across known space. If word of our intentions here, or merely the full extent of our presence is learned, the ruling Maximal government will become…less open to our influence. This influence is a powerful tool, and one that we wish to keep.”
The Vid screen changed again, in quicker succession this time, from member to member of the Resistance. Querion, Timber, Corvus, Slam, Spyder, Mimi, Solarflare, Buckshot, Weede, Penji, Trapper, Phyphen, Retro, Burnout, Rita, Catfish, Redwing, Chapel, Scope, Dreadnought, Strike, Carnage, Silverclaw, Rehaul, and others. The viewer paused a fraction of a second longer on the image of Switchblade as it detailed the terms of her disastrous ‘employment’ by the Predacons through Spat. Relic was not mentioned.
“Some we have names for, others we do not. It was reported a short while ago that at least a few members of this ‘resistance’ escaped the planet, very possibly with the aid of others. Regardless, it is the desire of the Council that they meet an…acceptable end. You have encountered them before, and know more of each individually than can be represented by their files. Therefore we have seen fit to assign you to the correcting this problem. It is your mess, your blunder. Clean it up!”
There was silence. The shadowed image of the Tripred returned, its red eyes appearing to fill more of the screen than they had before.
“But it is such a large Universe after all, isn’t it?” the voice said. “And there are countless places in which they could choose to hide, yes?” Though it was indistinguishable through the dark haze, the figure smiled. “How then shall you find these vermin?” The voice paused. “Once again the answers, like you, are very simple indeed. The devices that my good Commissar Thrasher has placed on your wrists are small portable tracking units of an advanced design created by our scientists. They will find you the ‘Resistance’, but only indirectly. You see, when they left, the fool Maximals seem to have taken on a quite unfortunate passenger. For them anyway.
The figure disappeared again, replaced by the file image of a small Blue Predacon, assigned to the Division of Diplomatic Aid. The name ‘Cutter’ was spelled out in small white type across the bottom of the photo.
“You see, for ease of location, all members of our Diplomatic Corps are ‘tagged’ with a small low power homing beacon. Ordinarily it is used only to find them, say, inside a building. But, with the aid of our newly developed technology, it is believed that any Transformer similarly tagged can be located, even over great distances. I am told that it is a difficult task, but not an impossible one. Do you understand what you are being asked to do?”
The Generals nodded.
“Excellent.” The Tripred replied. “Find this scum and dispose of it, before we decide our decision to spare your lives was in error.” The seated figure reappeared again, the image of Cutter disappearing into nothingness. The figure shifted to gaze at the Commissar. “Commissar,” it said, “Would you please activate their wrist locators and give them a demonstration of their…power.”
The black Transformer bowed his head respectfully and toggled the switch of a squat gunmetal box, the only thing left on his small table. There was a short flash, and then it happened.
The Generals screamed in agony as course after course of lightning erupted from the thin metal bracelets and washed over their bodies. One by one the fell, even Buster, until they writhed in pain on the floor. Their muscle cables froze in place. Their metal skin smoked and burned. The acrid smell of ozone and electricity seared the air. The torture lasted nearly a minute. Then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.
“Oh,” intoned the figure. “It seems that I forgot to mention an added safety feature the Council has included in your tracking devices. As much as your bracelets are tracking devices, they are also inhibitor collars. A safety measure, should you find flight more appealing than your continued service.”
Amid the still smoking Generals, Cloak reached up to tear the device off. He was rewarded for his effort by another minute of excruciating electric torture. Beside him Dagger shook with pain.
“I should mention,” the voice said, “That any attempts to remove your trackers will be severely punished. Severely punished indeed. From now on if you try to remove it in any way, even to remove your entire arm, your spark will be terminated. The first shock fused them solidly to your wrists I should think. You will not have time to remove them before you die.” The Predacons looked up in shock and horror at the dark visage of their supreme commander. “Your lives have been spared,” he said, “But only so that they may be wrung to the very last drop. Your blunders have made you ours, even more than you were before. You are nothing. You are animals that live now only to please your masters, and to spare yourselves from a death that is painful beyond words. Go now, and do as you have been commanded, telling NO ONE. You will succeed, or you will die. There is no alternative. Not for you. Not any more.”
Abruptly the transmission winked out of existence. The small green light faded and died. With a smug smile the Commissar paced slowly from the room, leaving the once proud Predacon Generals to drown themselves in tears of pain and hopelessness.
Timber sat at the bar nursing a drink. The presence of Relic on the ship still chilled her, and she was felt guilty for it, because she sort of liked the moody bot, and at one time had considered him a friend, albeit a reluctant one. Now she even sure if Relic still existed... she didn't know what was lurking in the frame that slumbered in the C.R. chamber.
The wolf cast a glance over her shoulder, Querion had been conspicuously deficient in his cautious flirting and Timber was somewhat miffed about that. She had started to enjoy the little game they where playing and it was quite inconsiderate of him to just cut it of all of a sudden. What ruffled her even more was that she had seen that little fox bot peering over him earlier. Well... if Querion had found a new interest that was fine with her.
It wasn't of course, but she was trying very hard not to admit that to herself.
She could be quite silly that way.
Suddenly Timber saw Pulse walking towards her and a smile spread across her face. The two had been very busy with the resistance and they hadn't had time to talk in a while. The courier sat down next to Timber with a wan smile, she took one look at the rather robust beverage that
was nearly burning a hole in the bottom of Timber's cup and decided she wasn't thirsty after all.
"Long time no see, hon," the Wolf said with an infectious smile.
Pulse smiled back weakly, "It certainly has been..." there was a momentary pause. "What are you planning to do when we get back to Cybertron..."
Timber leaned in closer as Pulse began to speak.
***
Ironically Querion at that very moment was thinking of Timber, and that he really should check on her again. He had just risen up to do so when a siren began blare. His hand went to his side, reaching for the sabre that was no longer their. Abruptly the siren cut out, and he heard Burnout swear from up in the cockpit. Satisfied their was no immediate problem the warrior began to walk into the hall.
A quick persistent beeping from behind him turned him around. A light on the C.R. chamber was flashing and the blue glow no longer emanated from the port hole. The wolf bot slowly walked up to the machine. Looking inside he could see Relic leaning against the door with his hand, his head down. Slowly Querion reached out and pushed the C.R. chamber's internal intercom button.
"You awake?" he asked. There was a slight pause from within, before the C.R. chamber's exterior intercom crackled to life.
"Yeah..." Relic's voice came back through the speaker.
"How are you feeling?" Querion asked cautiously.
"Like slag." Relic replied.
"Just you? I mean is it..." Querion's voice trailed off. Querion could not see the assassin's face, Relic had still not lifted up his head, his clawed finger poised over the intercom button.
There was a long pause then, "Yeah... yeah I'm pretty sure." There was another short pause. "I don't suppose me saying that is going to make you anymore inclined to let me out is it?"
Querion hesitated before answering. "It doesn't look to good for you." He said, refusing to answer his friend's question.
There was another pause from within.
"I know."
Mimi led rhapsody down the hall pulling her a little on the arm as the Song bird's mood had not changed much. "Awww come on lighten up girl, we will find you someone to talk to." At that same moment Mimi smiled as she caught sight of Wraith still waking himself and sitting near a table with his music blaring. "OF COURSE!"
"Ohhhh no.." RHapsody said sullenly as she was dragged over to wraith but didn't seem to resist much. Mimi slowly pulled her over and sat her directly across from Wraith.
"Somthing up commander?" Wrath said removing his head phones.
"Ohhh Rhapsody is just feeling a little down so i am going to make it your personal duty to make her feel better!" Mimi said as Rhapsody seemed to want to be anywhere but here. "Ok have fun bye!" Mimi said walking off back towards the bridge.
THe small cat that was now in beast mode stopped peering into the medical center. She heard Relic's voice and bounded in. She looked into the CR chamber nudging Querion over a little. "OH my gosh! JC are you ok? I heard what happen that was terrible! Are you alright?"
--------------------
A large bot stood in the streets of cybertron as the rain poured down from above. He sniffed a few time and continued to itch his wrist until another figure appered on the other side of the alley. "Hey!" THe large bot said in a hushed voice. "Use this." He said quickly and then darted off down the alley. The other bot gave chase but only for a moment and turned back to the package. THe bot grabbed the box and read the side which said "Endport survalince tapes."
As Burnout sat at his console, he noticed Weede sitting at a console beside him chuckling slightly. The sloth was randomly pushing buttons and giggling uncontrollably at the way they lit up and beeped when he did it.
"Huh huh huh uh huh uh huh, this is cool! Press the button, light it up! Press the button, light it up! Whoo!"
"What are you doing?!" Burnout asked.
Weede whirled around in surprise, saw him, and then grinned.
"Pressing buttons!"
"That's not a video game, you know."
"I know! 'Cause if it was, I'd be laughing about playing with my joystick! Huh huh uh huh, joystick. What's up?"
-----------
Eternity and Buckshot were hanging around one of the corridors with little or nothing to do. Following an abrupt excursion to the nearest waste receptacle, Buckshot had gotten over his space sickness.
"Hey Bucky, I'm gonna check out the bridge's comms." Eternity told him. "Wanna come with?"
"Be right with ya, babe, I'll just hang out a bit." Buckshot replied.
Eternity nodded and walked off, and Buckshot took the opportunity to observe her skidplate in action. He made a sound of approval and turned to-
He smelled something. Something he knew.
His mind flashed back to Endport. A woman. A dead Predacon woman. Civilian, torn up like tissue paper, covered in a smell, a Maximal smell, a smell on this ship...!!!
Buckshot could smell it. His nose wrinkled and he began walking along, following it.
Wraith's personal duty to cheer up Rhapsody? Alright! Didn't get much better than that. He shut off his music and shook his head vigorously to clear out his circuits, still not totally awake. "My personal duty huh?" He said, raising an optic ridge after Mimi and smiling oddly. "Listen," Rhapsody began, but Wraith cut her off. "Look, I know I'm probably the last person you wanna see, but duty is duty. I mean, she said my duty was to cheer you up, that's all."
The young fox stood up and cracked his neck, back, elbows, and knees. Some kind of...something. Rhapsody had no idea, but it was loud. Probably a habit of his. "So," He continued, resettling into his seat. "Mimi said you weren't feeling too hot and it's showing. What's seems to be the problem? Maybe I can help, I'm really good at that." He said with a warm smile. Even though the kid was somewhat annoying and definately too cocky for his age, his general cheeriness did make her feel a little better.
Burnout locked Weede out of the console he was at, as a precaution, but the sloth didn't even notice. Only belatedly did he notice the penguin standing on the console. Penji was looking down, trying to figure out the weapons systems Weede had been toying with.
"Uhhuhuhuh.. whoa I'm like seening penguins."
"Penji!"
"Coool man, shyeah I'm Weede. How ya doin little dude?"
"Bored."
"Whoa, bummer man. Uhhuh I got some stuff that'll fix that. Shyeah!"
Penji paused for a moment, either figuring out what Weede was talking about, or deciding what to do about it.
"B*tchin'!"
Trapper:
"hmm....interesting controll scheme....might as well see if I can get what my scanners got on yours, make a few adjustments...."
Trapper sits in one of the chairs and intentively types away, he then connects himself to the console and uploads a new sensor program that should up the sensitivity and range of the scanners.
Phyphen was continuing on her journey. She had been travelling only a few hours and the entire ride was basically uneventful. The young fox yawned.
All around her there was nothing but darkness. Periodically she could see a brightly lit star or something similar to that. There were small asteroids sailing past her, here and there - but nothing of any concern.
"As soon as I get home I am going straight back to my home under the bridge. Ohhh...I'm going to sleep for a week! I miss everybody there. My friends probably think I'm dead. Frag... what am I gonna tell them... I'll say I was.... was...kidnapped! Yea!" the young 'bot devised a plan aloud as she gripped the wheel following the little beeps coming from the grid map. She yawned again.
**********Two hours later**********
"FRAGGING... *@#$%... WHAT AM I GONNA? ... SLAGGING .... SON OF A FATHERLESS PREDACON! ... OF ALL THE *$@!&* ...."
Phyphen hurled a long string of curses into the blackness as she stared at the fuel energy meter. "EMPTY.... HOW CAN YOU BE FRAGGING EMPTY!... *#@$%#... *&%^^@!", the young fox slammed her fist against the meter and swore again.
'What am I gonna do now?' she thought bitterly to herself. Phyphen reached out and turned off the vessel. The ship helplessly floated. Phyphen glared out the window searching for anything that would be of any use...
Phyphen looked down at the wheel, sighed and curled herself up in a ball on the seat. 'I have really screwed up! I'm totally lost...' Phyphen closed her eyes and started imagining herself home... or back on the ship, Xavior. When she opened her eyes - she hoped that this was all a dream, a bad dream.
It wasn't.
Phyphen finally drifted off in a restless sleep filled with horrid thoughts of her possible future. Starvation. Slow death. Captured. Tortured. The fox tossed and turned.
In a startled awakening, the small Maximal jumped out of her seat – slamming against the control panel. Phyphen gathered herself up and sat back down properly. The ‘bot glanced at the panel. She mused for a second before she turned the vessel back on. The light blinked on and a surge ran through the system. The lights were flickering slightly. Phyphen ran her hands over the panels until she found a small grey box with three switches on them. Phyphen flipped the first switch.
“Hello? Hello?” she called out into the box. “Is anyone there? Copy...” she trailed off – feeling foolish. She could be talking into the ventilation or something. She flipped the second switch.
“Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me? Help...” all she heard was static. The lights flickered dangerously... threatening her with a power failure.
*************
Back on the Xavior, Weede and Burnout were at the console. Weede was still pushing random buttons... and revelling in the fact that they were lighting up. Weede pushed a grey switch and loud static filled the room. “Hello? Can anybody hear me? Help...” the voice ripped through the static.
Weede stared at the console. “Huh..uh... there’s somebody in the machine... shyeah!”
"I-I think I can trust you enough not to eat my spark," shrugged Querion, as he hefted the iron bar off its hinges. His hand moved gingerly towards the "Open" button, his muscles tensed and at the ready. He nudged Mimi backwards, so that she stood relatively out of range. The button depressed slightly with an inaudible click, and the hatch slowly opened. There was a suspenseful release of mist that obscured the assassin, and after the wolf-bot brushed the shroud aside, he saw his friend clambering, with great effort, out of the metal chamber. The femme hurried over to offer a helping hand, supporting Relic as his knees threatened to buckle. Querion picked up a chair and placed it near, as the assassin rested himself on it, relieved.
"Oh Relic dear! Thank Primus you're-"
A loud snort of derision came from the wolf-bot at the mention of the god of Transformers. Relic chuckled, and was soon gasping for breath as his barks of laughter became hacking coughs. Mimi began to fuss over him, but he reassured her with a wave of his hand. Querion stood quietly, clenching and unclenching his fists mechanically.
"Aren't you afraid? Querion is," said the assassin, in between coughs. The swordsman in question raised an eyebrow at his friend's accusation, but said nothing. He picked up the mug, and turned towards the door. He stopped just a step before the door, and said without turning around, "Going to get you a drink, as well as to tell the others. Mimi, be careful. And Relic, I'm glad you're back."
"Afraid, not in the least," She said quietly as her mood seemed to darken when quieron left. "Myabe not to the same extent or intesity i have been in the same holes, and seen the same darkness as you but in myself already." Mimi seemed to become sadder as she dropped down to her knees looking at Relic, "I know what you have been thru, like i said i never tryed to kill my friends.... much but i can relate." The cat smiled and pushed her hair to the side standing back upright. "Besides you couldn't take me if you tryed." Relic actually seem to smile at Mimi's comment with cough of laughter. "Soo why don't you tell me all that happened and we can talk about it." She said sitting indian style in front of him.
If Phyphen had taken a close look at the asteroid she avoided, she would have seen what appeared to be an overlarge Terran ferret clinging to the space rock for dear life. If she had then thought about this, she would have realized that ferrets cannot survive in the vacuum of space. Following that line of thinking, she might then have guessed that the rock-riding animal was, in fact, a Transformer. A Transformer named Skitch.
But none of these things happened. As such, the divergent space boulder kept hurtling. And the ferret Transformer named Skitch was still clinging.
It had been easy to stow away on a flight on an outgoing merchant ship. It had been less easy to find a large asteroid after being ejected from the ship by the disgruntled pilot. Even less easier than that was aiming the rock at the Cheese Wedge. Only by firing his pistol at regular intervals to steady himself was he able to carry this trick off. Skitch was very tired by now.
But alert. Skitch was always alert. And now he was alert of the Cheese Wedge growing ever larger in his field of vision. Closer and closer. Skitch had prepared for this theft. Every circuit in his cranium was devoted to this task. Every circuit except the fifty-three per cent of them that were planning what to do with the profit. Maybe a ship of my own, or a jet pac upgrade, or a penthouse... he thought.
The time for thinking was over. He was within fifty meters of the ship. Carefully he fired three shots from his pistol in the direction opposite that which he was going. This slowed him down enough that he was going slow enough to pass through the kinetically-activated shields. A soft landing on the hull instead of instant disintegration was his reward. Slowly he pushed away from the space rock so that it drifted back into the void.
Getting into the ship proved to be more difficult. Using his claws, Skitch was able to crawl across the ship's surface, but then he needed to find an unoccupied room with a window. Finally, he found one. The three layers of glass yielded easily to the cutting edge of his Beam Sword. Once inside, Skitch transformed to beast mode, hoping that this ship's sensors couldn't detect him while he was in this form. He then opened an air duct and crawled inside.
I'm in the money, I'm in the moneeyyy....
Graphics Provided by Riboflavin
