PART V
All things considered, Megatron had not for an instant expected the Maximals not to take advantage of the lull in their attack. He was therefore unsurprised when they came pouring out of their ship, weapons locked and loaded.
"Predacons, engage!" he ordered sharply, and his troops immediately charged. The unnatural silence that had reigned in the wake of the earthquake was shattered by the heated sounds of battle; the rapid squeal of laser fire, the guttural war cries, and the sharp, staccato bursts of Tarantulas and Blackarachnia's projectile weapons all rent the air.
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Cheetor stumbled to his feet, carefully judging the distance between himself and his laser and trying to decide whether or not he'd have time to get to it before Terrorsaur could squeeze off a shot. In the flickering glow of the energon crystals, he could just make out its outline, ten scant feet away. Glancing up at Terrorsaur, however, he realized it might as well have been ten miles.
"Face it kitty, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I hope you enjoy the Pit!" Terrorsaur cackled, before loosing a barrage of firepower at the Maximal.
"Oh slag," Cheetor breathed and forced himself to move. For all his boasting, Cheetor in fact exaggerated his speed very little. Which turned out to be a very fortunate thing indeed. Without conscious decision, he dove forward and rolled to the side in an attempt to close the distance between himself and his weapon. In doing so, he avoided the brunt of the attack, but felt a sudden flash of pain as a lucky shot slammed into his side. He didn't stop though. To stop now would almost surely mean his death.
Only a few more inches, you can do it. The Guardian's encouragement cut through the haze of pain and weariness that was closing in on him, and galvanized him anew. With one final burst of momentum, his fingers closed around the smooth grip of his laser, and in one swift motion he lurched to his knees and aimed at Terrorsaur.
"You Preds almost slagged us all," he said quietly, a distinctly dangerous edge to his voice. "As the saying goes, it's payback time."
Terrorsaur didn't even have time to react as Cheetor fired. And fired. And fired. Each burst of energy hit its target with deadly accuracy, until Terrorsaur collapsed in a smoking, sparking heap. Cheetor released the trigger and slid to the cool ground, leaning back against the energon. What he wanted to do, however, was fall down and twitch for a few days.
That would be unwise given your current location.
"Just how long have you been poking around in my head?" Cheetor asked, bemused.
Long enough, the Voice answered enigmatically, but then became more serious. Will you be able to make it back to your base?
Cheetor was touched by the concern he sensed behind the words. Experimentally, he hitched himself to his feet, wincing and clutching at his laser burned side as he did so. Terrorsaur had nailed him harder than he first thought.
"I think so," he rasped. "Just don't ask me to do the Cha-Cha."
The what?
"Never mind."
The Guardian regarded the Seer silently for a few moments, debating. He was obviously in near desperate need of some kind of medical attention, and yet there was one more thing that needed to be done. Did It dare ask though?
"Ask what?" The question startled It out of Its deliberations. How had he... this one was just full of surprises.
If you think you have the strength, there is one more thing I would have you do young Seer... Cheetor.
"I'm fine," he lied. "What is it?"
Destroy this place, Cheetor. Make sure your enemies will never be able to do this again.
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Even through the heat of battle, Tigatron's gaze was constantly drawn towards the menacing hulk of the Predacons' 'super weapon.' A wide mouthed cannon it was, modified in way he couldn't even begin to assess. It crouched on the cliffs above the Axalon like some cancerous growth, all sharp angles and black purpose.
"Rattrap, take out that device. Tigatron, give him cover!" Optimus' sharp command left no room for argument, and Tigatron fired a few more shots at Waspinator before racing to Rattrap's side. Together they dodged through the battlefield, narrowly avoiding the blasts that rained down around them.
"Oh sure, give us the hard job," Rattrap panted as the object of their frenzied flight loomed ever closer.
"Stop complaining and run," Tigatron gasped back as he fired a quick burst at Blackarachnia. He felt a small thrill of satisfaction as he watched the female Predacon go down, but it was short lived. They had more important things to think about. Only another few meters to go...
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"I can't! You'll die!" Cheetor cried in disbelief. Surely the Guardian wasn't serious.
I am most serious Cheetor. You must seal this cavern from their reach.
"What about you?" he repeated, refusing to be deterred.
Child, I have always been and I will always be. I will be all right. Still, Cheetor hesitated and the Guardian sighed inwardly. There was so little time left. Please, young Seer, It whispered quietly. At last, Cheetor was persuaded by the poignant sincerity of the plea, and relented.
"I'll do it," he muttered. Behind him, Terrorsaur stirred slightly and pulled himself into a sitting position. "If you wanna live to try to explain this to good old Megajerk, you'd better make tracks," Cheetor said icily without turning around. Terrorsaur took one look at the Maximal's stance and skittered back out the mouth of the cavern without a word. "You sure about this?" he asked one more time, hating the thought of what he was about to do.
I am sure. And thank you, my friend. Slowly, Cheetor slipped to the very edge of the entrance and took aim at the already weakened stone ceiling. With one, final glance and the glowing crystals wherein the spirit of the Guardian lay, he fired several bursts and raced back into the tunnels as fast as he could. Behind him, the cavern was once again filled with the rumble of falling stone as the cavern collapsed in on itself, sending great clouds of dust billowing out into the tunnels.
Cheetor took a few precious seconds to revert to his faster beast mode and resumed his breakneck retreat from the tunnels, reaching the exit an instant before several large boulders slammed down across it, forever sealing the cavern and the Guardian inside. He stumbled to the ground and lay gasping for a few moments, unable to think of anything else but forcing the sweet fresh air into his lungs. He staggered to his feet when he felt he could do so without immediately collapsing again and stared off in the direction of the Axalon.
Not so far off, it won't take as long getting back, he thought. Before his overly abused systems could protest, he dashed off again, quickly leaving the cave far behind.
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When exactly had the situation gotten out of his control? Megatron assessed his current situation with a cold, military eye as he attempted to blast Optimus Primal to atoms. Attempted being the operative word. Out of the corner of his optics, he could see Inferno had been pinned down by none other than the backstabbing Dinobot, whilst Rhinox was holding Tarantulas and Scorponok at bay. Things were not going well. Far to the left, Waspinator and Blackarachnia were concentrating their fire on the two other Maximals trying to make their way towards the weapon, and despite the heavy crossfire, the two seemed to be making progress. Megatron was perhaps an egomaniacal tyrant, but he was far, far from stupid. One did not get to be a leader by fighting battles one could not win, much as he hated to admit it.
"It's over Megatron. Let's finish this once and for all," Optimus yelled suddenly. Megatron cast him a cool, calculating look.
"Another time perhaps, Primal. Yes. Predacons, tactical withdrawal!" He shouted, hastily taking his own advice. Inferno and Waspinator took to the air, descending only to catch the weapon in their grip before lifting off again. The spiders melted into the shadowed cliffside almost immediately, and Megatron himself soon followed. If anything, battling this particular group of Maximals had taught them the most efficient ways to run for it.
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"Slag! I can't believe it, of all the spineless- they're runnin'!" Rattrap shouted, kicking at the dirt in frustration. Inferno and Waspinator were rapidly becoming lost to sight, and there was no sign of their teammates. Inwardly, Tigatron was immensely relieved. The day was won, and they had all come through near impossible odds once again. Hadn't they? Tigatron glanced over at Rattrap and saw similar thoughts playing out across his features.
"Where are ya' kiddo?" he said under his breath, clearly not meaning for Tigatron to hear.
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Cheetor crashed through the underbrush in record time, entirely focused on reaching the base and seeing for himself if the Axalon had survived; both the Predacon attack and the planet's reaction to the Guardian's near death. The Guardian...oh what had he done? He couldn't dwell on that now though. He was almost within hailing distance of the Axalon, only a little further.
A low, droning buzz slowly made its presence known on his senses. He had heard that before, many times. He scanned the sky anxiously and was rewarded a moment later by the sight of Inferno and Waspinator, a large, cumbersome object clutched between them and obviously making tracks for the Predacon base. If those two were retreating then that meant...
Cheetor ducked into the undergrowth a fraction of an instant before the rest of Megatron and his merry band lumbered into view.
"They may have won this round, but once we get another power cell it will be quite a different story, yes," Megatron growled as he stalked through the brush. "We still have the weapon."
"For all the good it'll do you," Cheetor couldn't help whispering, a savage glee welling up inside of him at the thought of Megatron's face when he realized there would be no more 'power cells'. He silently slipped through the concealing plantlife, and gradually Megatron's tirade faded into the distance. When the sounds had ceased altogether, Cheetor stood up from his crouched position and instantly regretted it.
With the threat at long last over, his injuries would no longer allow themselves to be ignored and a wave of dizziness hit him with the force of a Pred fleet. He staggered drunkenly for a few moments before it passed and he was able to open his eyes without the world spinning out of control. He resumed his trek towards the Axalon, though at a much slower, limping pace as his beast mode attempted to make repairs it simply could not hope to deal with.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch," he groaned with each step, more to take his mind off of his aching frame and the crushing exhaustion than anything else.
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"Hey Stripes, you hear somethin'?" Rattrap asked suddenly. Tigatron cocked his head slightly and nodded silently as the sound of something tramping through the dead underbrush reached his auditory circuits.
"Could be the Predacons," he whispered as Rattrap drew his pistol once again. The sound was growing louder by the moment, and whomever or whatever was responsible was taking a very erratic course. Rattrap stole over to the edge of the underbrush and carefully pushed a few browning fronds out of his way. He tossed a glance over his shoulder to be sure Tigatron was covering him, then dove forward and brought his weapon to bear on a badly battered Cheetor.
"Nice to see you, too, Rattrap," the cat greeted him mildly, though the words came out more than a little slurred. His normally bright green eyes were dull and unfocused and he wavered unsteadily on his feet.
"Geez, kiddo, what happened to ya'?" Rattrap demanded as he and Tigatron crowded around Cheetor, previous anger at him forgotten.
"Long story, and you probably wouldn't believe me," Cheetor said weakly, before the world around him spun wildly and he fell limply to the ground.
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Two days later...
It had been quite a shock when Rattrap and Tigatron arrived back at the Axalon carrying a profoundly unconscious and badly damaged Cheetor between them. It had been an even bigger shock when Rhinox announced he was suffering from energon overload and contamination in addition to several injuries expected to occur in battle. What had he been up to? Even after repairs were made, Cheetor had been unusually subdued, answering questions in monosyllables or not at all, save for when Rhinox had expressed his concern over the fact that the Predacons still had their little toy in their possession.
"Doesn't matter, there's no power source," Cheetor had said quietly. All had stared at him in surprise, but he offered no further information. And Optimus had decided not to push him, even when he had obviously lied through his teeth about the events that had transpired. His story was tissue thin, with "more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese" as Rattrap had put it, but something in his eyes had silently begged Optimus not to press the matter. Against his better judgement, he had relented, but as Cheetor had left the room Optimus had made it clear that he would eventually want the truth.
"The truth? Telepathic energon? Yeah right, they'd all think I'm insane," Cheetor muttered as he stalked down the halls to his room.
Or perhaps they would think you a hero. You did save us all.
Cheetor skidded to a halt, half believing he had imagined the gentle whisper of the Guardian. I told you, my friend; I have always been, and I will always be. I have been here since the birth of this planet, and I've survived far worse than a little cave-in. The last sentence was added in a flippant tone that brought a grin to Cheetor's face.
"What are you doing here?" he asked excitedly, not caring if anyone saw him talking to the air in front of his face.
Guilt and depression don't become you at all, young Seer. I couldn't let you go on like that; not after all you did for me.
"You came to say goodbye, too." It wasn't a question. A hint of surprise flashed across his mind.
For now, yes. There is much work to be done, and you and your kind were never meant to know about me.
"You saying you're sorry I found out?" Cheetor was only half-teasing. The reply was instant.
No, young Seer. I will never regret knowing you and I am proud to call you friend, the Guardian hesitated for a moment before continuing. Remember what I said, Cheetor. Yours is a rare and wonderful talent, do not fear it. Farewell, young Seer. And then, the Guardian was gone; back to whatever new form it had taken. Cheetor stood in the hallway a moment longer, silently considering what had been said before continuing to his quarters. Optimus wanted the truth, and now Cheetor could give it to him, or at least a carefully edited version of it. Somehow, he doubted they would understand the Guardian, well except for Tigatron maybe, but he could never talk to the others about it. Somehow though, that didn't bother him.
Good luck, he thought silently, knowing that the Guardian would hear.
And take care, my friend.
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The Guardian withdrew from the Seer's ship and watched it silently for a moment. It had no business associating with these beings; it would be best to simply forget about them. Yet, It couldn't. It couldn't abandon the Seer. And he would need It, of that It had no doubt. The Seer didn't believe he was a Seer, didn't believe in the gift he had been given. It had seen what happened to untrained Seers when their talents fully developed and it certainly wasn't pretty. If this Cheetor was without support when this happened, the visions would surely drive him mad!
And in Its heart of hearts, It admitted that It had developed an affection for the young Seer - It couldn't abandon him. It wouldn't abandon him.
Good luck to you as well, child.
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The End
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