Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. If you are a lawyer employed by any transformer-related company, check the meaning of that word and be on thy way. You won't earn your salary here.

Dedication: I dedicate this story as a whole and this chapter in particular to Rainynight, a.k.a. Storytellers, a.k.a. Winyourenemies, a.k.a... oh, to the Pit with this - You know who you are, and why I'm dedicating this to You. :-)

Now, a note to all... //counts the reviewers and favoriters and alerters// ...to all eleven people who read this story (and aren't my friends who have no other choice ;)

It was brought to my attention that some parts of the story are hard to understand for readers who don't know each episode by heart, so the 'Mission' is currently (slowly) going through some cosmetic touch-ups, to make the matters more clear. I'll also try to correct the grammar as I go - it's been almost two years since I started writing this, and I do hope my English has improved somewhat. The first chapter now has some additional scenes, if you're interested. I'll keep you updated on the update progress as I update new chapters.
...I'm very sorry for that last sentence. I couldn't resist.

A note to the new readers (I'll optimistically assume there are some): don't let the title fool you - none of the story characters is on a mission to save anyone - it's just my personal goal as an author. The story itself is a simple AU version of the show - I try to tie together all the threads that should and could be tied together, change or explain the ones that didn't make much sense, (e.g., why was Axalon, "an exploration ship, not a battle cruiser" so heavily armed? How the frell did Rhinox know that Optimus died? Why was Rampage created? What's with the huge inconsistencies in 'Double Jeopardy' episode? Why Waspinator? And so on), and delete the ones I didn't like (no proto-humans or killing off half of the crew!). You know, the usual staff. The things will go along with the show continuity for the most part of season one, drift away in season two, and divert completely at the beginning of season three. Also, there are two original characters in here. I've been told they are pretty well developed, likeable, and not too clichéd. Let's hope they stay that way.

A/N: I'm using here the time units taken directly from the writer's note in "the probe" script:
A "Nano-Klik" is a second. A "cycle" is a minute. A "Mega-cycle" is an hour. A "stellar cycle" is a year. I added solar-cycle for a day, and I also use weeks and months. (If Optimus can, I can too!) Also, I assume you know what an optic, an audio, a comlink and subspace are.
Spoilers for episodes: Beast Wars 1&2, Equal Measures, Chain of Command, Power surge.

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Mission: To save Beast Warriors

Part one
Here comes Rust
The Beast Wars begin as usual, but this time, Predacon cruiser carries the crew of seven... No, he's not crazy. Really. He's not.

-

-

There was a planet.
There was space.
And in the space - darkness and silence.
And then there was light of a transwarp gate opening, and a roar of two space-ships fighting.

The battle radar on one of them beeped, signaling the field failure on the other vessel, and the Predacon watching it reported immediately.
"Their shields are down! Destroy them!"
His forceful advice/demand was, as many times previous, ignored. His commander just sat back with a lazy, predatory smile. "Now where's the fun in that?" he asked dismissively. He had the Maximals immobilized and helpless - he was not going to pass the opportunity to play cat and mouse with the fools. They had had the audacity to try and arrest him. Him! And they also possessed the idiotic arrogance to have identified themselves. Well, 'captain Optimus Primal of the private exploration vessel Axalon, acting on the Government behalf,' was going to learn the hard way why civilian ships shouldn't antagonize Predacon battle cruisers. A sadistic satisfaction seeped into Megatron's tone as he added, "A little torment I think first, yess?"
And as if on cue, the intercom crackled and an eager voice reported, **Sir, I've got all systems ready to launch!**
"Then launch! Destroy their outer guns and inflict as much damage as possible!"
**Aye, sir!**

A sleek, slender fighter fell off the bottom of the cruiser and sped towards Axalon.
Behind its console Rust bent forward, mouth half open, blue optics wild with anticipation. He looked young, he acted young, and, as a matter of fact, he WAS young. Very young. He would have never had a chance like this back home.
Maximals tried to shot him down, of course. He made a spectacular loop, avoiding their firepower, turned by an incredibly acute angle, and, flying just above the enemy's ship's surface, he pulled the trigger four times. For outer guns went boom. Rust pulled his machine up and flew right through explosions, screaming loudly out of pure joy. What a ride!

Then everything around him shook violently and it took him a while to realize what happened. Axalon was hit by a predacon volley. He cursed and went into a wild spin, barely avoiding the next one.
"Stop shooting at me, you maniac!" he screamed into his comlink.
"Get out of the battlefield, child!" a harsh voice screamed back.
"Go scrap yourself, blue-face!"

Another volley was the only answer. Rust gritted his teeth, somersaulted over some more explosions and dived under the safe shielding of the maximal ship, firing all the way. He would make a loop around it, take out few more guns and with any luck--
"Whatta-?"

Where he was expecting only empty space, something loomed into view. Lots of somethings. He desperately pulled up, but with the speed he was flying at, there was really nothing he could do to avoid ramming into several of them. Four oblong objects were sent flying toward the planet. The young bot managed to stabilize his machine enough to take a closer look at the remaining obstacles. He blinked, surprised. Stasis pods? What did these stupid Maximals think they were doing, littering his fighting space like that? Grrr! He flipped over left wing, determined to show them what he though of that... And three shots jammed him into yet anther pod. He cursed again, gripped at the rudders and took his machine the Pit outta there. He tried, anyway. The fighter didn't react as fast as it should, for some reason. Rust glanced at 'status' screen and hissed with frustration.
"Great, now I'm locked with that stupid pod!"

So he was. But, as he very soon realized, it was NOT his biggest problem. All screens blinked suddenly and a mechanical voice announced:

Entering atmosphere.
Approach angle: incorrect
Speed: incorrect
Danger: at high level

Rust looked at the screens. He looked at the planet. And he smiled. If his shields held, he might have a chance to land safely. If the shields didn't hold... Then he would burn on his way down, down to the last atom.

Just like a shooting star... What a wonderful way to go...

He pushed both rudders down, to force even more inaccurate angle, and sped up. His comrades heard his joyful scream just before his comlink was shut off.

"I told ya the kid was insane!", one of them commented.

"Quiet, you fool! Man the side guns!" Megatron snapped, not really registering what was said, for his focus was entirely on the visual of Axalon. With a stunned disbelief of a scientist watching a harmless fluffy bunny suddenly sprouting a set of barbed tentacles, Megatron was forced to acknowledge that the things that rose from the Maximal ship's roof were indeed a battery of D-class plasma cannons. That most certainly wasn't standard civilian equipment!
But standard or not, it was there, and it fired with full power, and whoever sat behind the targeting controls was surprisingly competent. With an indignant roar, Megatron braced himself as his crippled cruiser entered the atmosphere side by side with its would-be victim.

The last of shakes died away, the rocks that were to fall fell, and the dust settled. A pitiful sight was revealed.
The exploration ship Axalon, Optimus Primal's pride and joy, rested crushingly wedged between two mountain spires, looking like a bird with broken wings.

"Damage report?" a little strained voice, as if someone was trying not to stir a splitting headache, which actually was the case.

"Believe me, you don't wanna know." A young, tired voice of someone recovering from the worst fright of his life.

"Engines are busted, shields module is fried, we've lost over 50 of outer guns, and, thanks to that fighter, cargo hold #7 is one empty gaping hole. Not to mention minor damages and ruptures everywhere." This voice belonged to someone who would remain calm even when faced with the ultimate end of everything.
"Prime. What did we have in hold#7?"
"Spare parts, mostly"
"An' that means, when ya break somethin', ya can recycle it straight away, 'cause we won't fix it," a heavily accented voice cut in, announcing that Optimus's least favorite crew-member was up and about again. As if his headache wasn't bad enough already. Fortunately, the owner of the ever-calm voice had it handled.
"Exaggerating won't help us, so can it. Better go and check DNA scanners. If the readings I'm getting here are correct, we're going to need them."
"Yeah, sure, give da dirty work to da small guy, he can'tgrumblegrumblegrumle..."

The Predacons' cruiser crash-landed in a much more hostile area than Axalon did, in the middle of lava fields, and took it just as well as could be expected. The harried SIC drove the crew to extinguish the fires, while Megatron bickered with the ship's AI. Unnoticed by the rest, a short, purple bike-model bot shuffled to the outer scanners console. Let the others worry about the immediate damage control and the navigational nitpicks - he was more concerned with his long-term survival, and he knew from experience that unknown planets could hold some very nasty surprises. This one, as it turned out, was no exception. There was an insanely high percentage of oxygen in the atmosphere, which meant a higher corrosion rate. A strong anticorrodant would take care of that. And then there were energon fields' readings, which were way off the scale. No working around that one - they'd have to assume alternate forms, based on the local creatures. He didn't much like the notion - the local life seemed to be purely organic, and meshing with organics was relatively new technology. What's more, it had been developed by Maximals, and they had so stupid ideas where it came to assimilating new forms! He'd have to alter the coding of the procedure protocols to adjust them to working with the Predacon programming, and then rewrite the separate batches for each crew member to include the individual differences in their coding, it was all such a bother, would take him at least five cycles...

In fact, it took him six and a half. He was almost done when Megatron came to a brilliant conclusion that they needed new alt modes. And he probably thought he was so smart to think of it too. Snickering, the bot soon to be known as Tarantulas pushed the final button.
"Scanners, teehee, activated!"

A long, long, long way away from the two downed ships, an easily recognizable, mechanical voice of internal diagnostic computer repeatedly pierced the air.

Warning. Energon surge. Stasis lock imminent. Warning. Energon surge. Stasis lock imminent. Warning...

Rust groaned and blinked, trying to make sense of the words. Stasis lock? Nonononono, no good going in stasis lock, he's alone here... With no one to get him into CR-tank, stasis only meant a prolonged death. But he had a little something with him to prevent it, right? Lucky him...

He grunted and lifted himself of the ground. His Emergency Kit was where it should be, tucked safely in his right thigh subspace pocket. He flicked it open, picked up a little tube, and shook it expertly. It clicked, reveling its true nature. A syringe. Well, kind of. Rust was about to put its 'needle' in his chest plate port, when his whole body shook violently.

Warning. Energon surge. Stasis lock imminent.
"Override it, you stupid, slaggin'..."

With some effort he managed to put the 'needle' into the right place and winced when it reached his spark casing. Now all he had to do was push the piston... Which proved to be a problem. His body shook again.

Energon Surge--
"Shut up!"
He tried again, but his fingers refused to bend. Then came another shock, and with a quiet groan Rust fell face first into darkness.

The lava shone prettily, reflecting in glimmers in the Predacon cruiser's matt plating. For some time all was still, and then part of the wall shifted, and an emergency hatch opened. A brown raptor stepped out of it, a golden disk in hand. He was boiling inside and NOT because of the outside temperature.

"No, no, NO! It is all wrong! This cannot be Earth! Megatron, you FAILED! You failed to destroy the Maximals when you had the chance, you've already lost us a soldier, and we're not even on the right planet! We stole the Golden Disk for nothing, you IDIOT!" with that he tossed said object with a force that would surely shatter it, had Megatron not caught it.
"I beg your pardon. What did you call me?"
"You heard. You are an idiot, and an incompetent leader. And I am taking over! Dinobot - TERRORIZE!"

Megatron just rolled his optics at the rest of warrior's tirade. Challenges for leadership were nothing new, and he rather expected it, since this particular bot was against the whole affair from the beginning. It had taken all his persuasive skills to convince Dinobot to take part in this plan (which was risky, he had to admit, but still better than just sabotaging maximal guarding posts and hoping that Tripredicus Council will finally move their lazy skid-plates and actually DO something...), and it wasn't surprising that he was, let's say, a little upset right now.

"You're so impulsive, Dinobot. Brave, but misguided," he said graciously, with a patronizing smile. He shouldn't have done that, he knew, but really, it was hard to take all this ranting seriously.
Dinobot's optics narrowed. "Do you accept my challenge!?"

"There is more to being a leader than simple courage," he answered, turning his back to the warrior. With any other Pred, that would be an invitation for a dagger through the spark, but not this one. Backstabbing was, after all, 'dishonorable'. Well, there are some things everyone has to learn the hard way... Megatron gestured to his second-in-command.

Scorponok sighted inwardly. He really hated it. But since he had to be the one doing others' dirty work, he at least could make sure we will end up with his hands as clean as possible. Hence he set his missile to maximum range and minimum damage. Dinobot wouldn't be injured...much...but he'll be removed from their leader's sight for a while.

Their leader faced Dinobot again and smiled. "There is cleverness and cunning as well. Isn't that right, Scorponok?" He sidestepped, and Scorponok fired. The shocked look on other bot's face made him feel even more disgusted with himself, but, well...what did he expect?

Megatron traced the airborne warrior with his eyes, then shrugged.
"Loser," he murmured with a he'll-be-back-when-he-gets-hungry look on his face. Then he turned to the rest of his troops.

Rattrap the rat exited the lift, theatrically swaying under the weight of a piece of scrap he'd be normally tossing around with close to no effort. He also flailed and sighed and complained, all the better to show how displeased with the situation he was. And Optimus did nothing to lighten up his mood with his "Remember the great war" line. What he could remember of said war was that his life went straight to the Pit when it ended. So the Predacons could 'start it all over again', oh geez, how tragic, see if he cared.

"Besides," Optimus smiled, determined to see the bright sides and blissfully unaware of the small bot's thoughts, "you wanted exploration, and here we are, on an unknown planet. What more do you want?"
There was a number of ways Rattrap could answer to this, from rude to aggressive and back. He went for sarcastic, since it seemed to be annoying the captain most. "Well, ah, call me picky but a workin' spacecraft might be nice."

Optimus shook his head with a sigh, and radioed Rhinox on a tight beam. **You like this guy, why?**
Rhinox just flicked an ear. **He's a good bot. He'll settle down after a while,** he sent back consolingly.
"He'd better," Optimus murmured under his breath. He had enough problems on his CPU as it was, like dealing with the Predacons, and securing their immediate survival, and...
...and keeping tabs on Cheetor at all times.
"Cheetor! Come back here!"

The diagnostic computer was doing its thing again.

Energy level at 10 and falling
Energy level at 12 and fallingEnergy level at 8, rising
10, 9, 13...
"Shut up..."
14, 11--
"Shut UP!"

Rust groaned as another shock went through him.
"All power to dumpers..."
Acknowledged. Energy field dumpers engaged. Energy level at 15 and rising.

Rust sat up and looked around dazedly. Why was he still on-line? Then he look down and sneered. When he'd fallen, his own weight forced the syringe's contents into his circuits. Talk about lucking out...

Energy level at 22 , stabilizing.

Not perfect, but it would do, Rust decided. Now, where was Raven?
He looked around and moaned.
"Oh, baby..."

He staggered towards a heap of scrap that has become of his ship. He touched her side gently. Her engines where busted, left wing was half times smaller than it should be, and missile magazine was... non-existent. The only seemingly undamaged part was the cockpit. Lucky again.
"I'm so sorry, Raven... But I need your help now."

The cockpit door was jammed, so he just crawled in through a large hole in the front clear panel, which must have been the exact way he had left his ship in the first place. Note to self: always check the seatbelts' buckle before planet diving...

He tapped few keys and smiled with relief when the screens blinked in response. Lucky, lucky, lucky. Ok, what now? Readjust shields to dump energon fields - checked. Hook himself to energon feeder - checked. Think about something he just knows is important, but cannot quite remember at the moment - er, later. Go off-line for a short recharge period - checked...

&&&&

He woke with a start, the important thing burning in his mind. He hastily powered up that special internal scanner he'd got from that chuckling scientist, what-was-his-name, and checked the readings. They showed static. "Wait till I get my hands on this wacko... It was supposed to be a LONG-range scanner!"

How was he supposed to find Megatron now? Provided he was on the same planet, that is... Well, he'd just have to search the old-fashion way. But for now... Rust relaxed and checked the screens. He winced at the damage reports, winced even more at the energy level stat, snorted in disbelieve at the outside power level readings, did a double take and grunted. So that's where that energon surges came from. Perfect. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by energon field that would short-circuit him after few cycles' exposure. It wouldn't have been a problem, if Raven weren't predacon-build. Predacons didn't much care what would happen to some lonely pilot, who was stupid enough to get stranded on an over-energonized planet. At least Maximals put DNA-scanners and transformation modules into every unit they built... Rust sat upright suddenly and smiled.
"Raven, find me any maximal junk near here."
Unknown voice command.
"Grrr, stupid cheap software... I KNEW I should have stolen something better for you. OK, Raven, find me any mechanical objects of maximal manufacture."
Unknown voice command.

With a soft hiss the young bot gave up, and bent over the keyboard. It took some time, but he finally forced the stubborn computer to enlist all scanning commands, and then he picked the one that looked most promising.

"Scan surroundings for technological units," he muttered in disgust. "What a heap of garbage..."

The computer beeped. Rust checked coordinates and smiled. Not that far. Now, a sensible thing to do would be to convert all power to field dumpers and walk slowly, saving energy. That's what every reasonable bot would do. Rust stifled laughter. Not what he would do, then. He sped off in his motorcycle mode.

Megatron was in a foul mood. His first battle on this planet - if a squabble over a wayward cheetah could be called a battle - didn't go as well as he wished for. Not even close. He was used to commanding soldiers who knew how to act on a battlefield. For example, to seek cover and actually hit the targets there were aiming at.

And now he had to deal with a scientist who had probably lived through the war hidden in a lab somewhere, another so-called scientist, who as a matter of fact had experience in fighting, but had lost his battle edge long ago, an over-confident street fighter, and Waspinator. Oh yes. Waspinator. Megatron closed his eyes for a moment and growled. Whatever had possessed him to bring that idiot along? Oh, never mind.

It was almost a miracle, really, that they had managed to pull off the theft and get away with it. Having secret ace up his power-gauntlet helped, of course. The ace he no longer had. A shame, really. Rust was such an obedient and promising bot...unlike some others he knew...grrrr.

He shot a disgusted glance at his troops. The sooner Dinobot came back the better.
Speaking of the devil...
The Maximals they where stalking stopped suddenly, and the purple T-rex smiled with satisfaction when he spotted a raptor's silhouette ahead of them. Blocking their only passage to Axalon.
Faultless. With a warrior on a narrow bridge and rest of the Predacons at their back, Maximals didn't stand a chance.
Megatron scanned the scenery, chose the best attack spot and started toward it, his 'soldiers' right behind him. He had to hand it to Dinobot, he knew how to--

"...Megatron will fall as soon as I have your Maximals at my command..."

The gust of wind brought the words with it, and Megatron stopped dead in his tracks. He must have misheard it, it was impossible--

"Dinobot, MAXIMIZE!"

--or wasn't. Megatron's reptilian eyes where almost round with shock. That...that...that backstabbing Pred! The warrior owed everything he was to Megatron, they've been working together in PLF (Predacon Liberation Front) for stellar-cycles, and now he was turning against him because-- because of what? One stupid missile?

He could swallow that, he could swallow treachery and questioning his command (within reason, naturally), but siding with the Maxis? Actually becoming one of them?
His shock turned to fury. He dimly heard Tarantulas speaking "Not the winner is what interest me..."
"Nor me, noo," he snarled. "How much more preferable would be if they both lost, yess. Predacons, TERRORIZE!"

The stasis pod lay at the end of a long, still smoking clearing amid the pine trees, and Rust knew the protoform inside was dead even before he got close enough to see it. And when he was close enough, he could easily see why. All pods had three independent life support systems. One above protoform's head - where Raven's nose smashed it. One at its feet - where one of Axalon's shooters scored. And one at the bottom - which apparently was sticking outside Raven's shielding on the way down, and was now one melted mass of metal. The poor bot within was dead before his pod ever touched the ground. But DNA scanners had been protected by the shields and looked undamaged. How extremely...lucky...

Five shots down, five more we've got
One shall live, and one - shall - NOT!

Rust blinked, shaking off singsong voices and the attached memory. "Looks like I've won the Pred's Roulette once more" he whispered. "Pity none of us knew we were playing..." He lifted the clear lid and caressed other bot's face gently. "I'm sorry," he breathed, and he meant it. But it didn't stop him from removing the limp body from the pod. He needed new alt-mode, and it wasn't like it mattered for that bot any more.

He activated DNA scanner and was amazed at the multitude of life forms it detected.
"Cool. Now, something big and nasty..." he found filtering commands and chose 'predators', 'list by size'. The list was long, but he found the perfect match right at the top of it. Rust's smile threatened to slice his head in half when he saw it.
He was not, by any stretch of imagination, a xenobiology expert, but some of the obscure knowledge had seeped into the common lore, even if only in the form of inaccurate symbols and proverbs. Rust might not know precisely what wolves looked like, but he was sure he'd like it.

"A night singer. Absolutely perfect," he said and hit the 'confirm' button. He was about to settle in the pod, when a thought hit him. The programming chip and personal datatrax. He didn't want to have anything to do with those, but to eliminate them, he'd have to work on the pod's circuitry. And he wasn't good with circuitry. In fact, he was hopeless with it. For some strange reason every single bit of machinery with any kind of energy flow in it tended to short-circuit, or even explode, when he tried to mess with it. He had learned to live with it, and even use it to his advantage sometimes, but when he wanted to modify or fix something, he had to rely on others. And now he was alone.

Choices, choices.
To risk frying whole stasis pod, his only chance to survive...
Or to risk getting programming upgrade he didn't wish to get.
Mmmm, the thrill of indecision...
Let's see, which option would be considered 'most stupid, reckless and irresponsible' by Mr. Know-It-All-Soundblast? Hehehe.

He opened the EK box again and took out some tools. There were 'medical instruments', which meant there were exactly like 'mechanical tools', only better.

Oh, he almost forgot... he pulled a little catch that opened the hidden compartment in the box. It was divided in sixty little cubbyholes. When he'd begun his Journey To The Pit With Sightseeing On The Way, each was occupied by one tube-like syringe. But now - bot's hand froze in bewildered realization - half of them were empty. Had he really used so much already? A little ping of anxiety squeezed his spark, but then he shook it off. So what? He most probably won't have time to use them all anyways. He'll just have to be less wasteful. A sudden thought made him chuckle - medics at ESDS-Hospital would probably freak out if they ever discovered he was sometimes using their precious medicine like some kind of emergency battery.
Still laughing softly he took out a tube, closed the compartment and put the syringe in its place on the very top of emergency kit. It was a must-be to have one close at hand, in case his spark misbehaved.

And now, back to the task. He selected the tool, smash-opened the panel and managed to successfully remove the Maximal programming chip when Murphy struck out. It was very simple chain of events.

- Strong energon fields.
- Lack of energy in field dampers.
- Energon surge shock.
- Sharp tool tip hitting fragile wiring casing.
- And cutting some wires that weren't supposed to be cut.
- Rust's hand slipping from the insulated handle.
- And touching unprotected metal.
- Loud sizzle of overloading circuits.
- Small electrical fire.

"You rusted son of a toaster!"
Rust shook his zapped hand.
"You fried son of a toaster," he corrected resignedly. "Just please tell me DNA scanners are still on-line..."
Amazing, but they were. Apparently it was one of older pod versions, with separate modules for each task. Good for him.

OoooKaaay, show time. He hopped into the pod and closed the lid.
"Activate transformation program"
Machines around him hummed to life, a thin line of scan ran along his body, and then...nothing, absolutely nothing he'd ever experienced had prepared him for what happened next.

He'd always been life-hungry. He craved for sensations. Intense, faint, pleasant, painful - he wanted them all. He was looking forward to this new experience, and now he discovered that what the pod did to him meant total lack of sensations.

He had been liquefied.
There where no hands to touch.
There where no optics to see.
There where no audios to hear.
There was only his conscious spark, suspended in nothingness.

Oh, nasty. Ughh, nastier. Oh yuck, awful! Why people ever DO that?! And why was he still on-line? Wasn't the pod supposed to knock him off-line?
At which point, it did knock him off-line.

The Predacons were shooting, the Maximals were running, and the narrow bridge was crumbling. Rattrap screamed when it disappeared from under his feet, and then yelped when a hand closed around his wrist and he slammed hard against the cliff wall. His optics dimmed, and when his vision cleared, he was standing safely on the ground. He took a nano to restart his air intakes, and to make sure that his chest plate hadn't been, in fact, knocked right trough his back plate. It certainly felt like it...

"Your welcome."
Rattrap glanced at Optimus angrily. He was not in the mood to admit that he owed him. They could have been still exploring, had Primal not answered some stupid emergency alert...
"You're da leader, it's yer, uh, job."
Optimus glared at him.
Rhinox, I really hope you were right about this bot.

&&&&

Another leader was, to put it lightly, disappointed with his crew as well. He gave an order to destroy the slaggin' bridge. Not the cliff walls, not the sky, the bridge. Since his laser wasn't designed to deal with rocks, he had to rely on Tarantulas and Scorponok, and only the former did his job. Scorponok missed by a parsec. With a furious roar Megatron bashed at Terrorsaur (few of his shots singed Megatron's shoulder, and he was almost positive it was no accident) and turned to strangle the main culprit, who raised his claws in futile defense.

"Incompetent! You let them--"
A blinding flash distracted him enough to drop Scorponok, and when few nano-kliks later a bang of enormous explosion reached them and he spotted its source, he forgot about his anger completely. A bluish crystal the size of a mountain gleamed in the light of the setting sun.
"Energon!"
Scorponok's missiles weren't a total waste after all...

The lid was jammed. That meant a big wolf was trapped in a very small space. And he didn't like it in the least. Voice commands, persuasion and curses didn't affect the stubborn component at all, and it was time for a brute force.

"Open" he demanded, slamming his back against it. It didn't cooperate, so he tried again, and again, and again.
"Open. Open. OpenopenopenOPEN!"

Crash! gave up the latch.

"See, it wasn't so hard" Rust hopped out of the pod and breathed deeply. Ah, freedom! And then he froze and his green eyes very slowly went big and round.

The smells! Everywhere around him! He could almost taste them, he could trace them, he could easily identify their sources, there where SO MANY of them! Primus, and he lived all his live depending on his optics and audios only! What else had he missed?

He stood there motionlessly for quite some time, marveling at what his nose was telling him. One scent suddenly cut trough the rest. It was warm, and soft, and had undertones in it that told Rust that it was coming from some kind of energy. No, he corrected himself as his body lunged after it. Not energy. Food.

The joy of chase. The twigs slashing at his muzzle. The soft moss under his paws. Something small and fluffy running away, its smell no longer soft, but tinged with sharp note of...fear.
One final leap.
Squeeeeeak!
Crunch...

Oh man, how come no one ever told him eating was such a pleasure?

When battling Predacons, one should always expect a spectacular explosion.
When battling alongside Predacons, one should always expect there would be some companionate spark, eager to put one out of one's misery.

Unfortunately, Scorponok was fussing over the shorting, sparking, unconscious and so temptingly vulnerable form of Megatron before Tarantulas reached it, and the spider had to back off, grumbling his displeasure under his breath. All right, so maybe the klutzy second-in-command wasn't much of a threat, but Tarantulas preferred to keep a low profile, at least for the moment. And since he didn't feel like helping dragging over two tons of his so called leader back to base, he had to part with a small floater he carried around for emergencies. The small device was barely able to lift Megaton off the ground, and judging from the crackles it was a safe bet it would be damaged beyond recovery by the time they got back, and then he'd have to make a new one. This day definitely wasn't a good one.

Rust trotted back to stasis pod licking his lips. He felt wonderfully full. Mmmm, he really loved this mode. He wasn't even upset that he lost the motorcycle one. It was definitely worth it.

He stopped by the lifeless metal form of the rightful pod occupant, and sniffed at him. So many scents in one dead bot... He sighed and transformed.
"Thanks for the life, buddy," he murmured, picking up the corpse. He put it back in the pod and slammed the broken latch shut. There was no chance of a proper recycle, and this was as good coffin as any. "Bye."

Raven, not surprisingly, was exactly where he'd left her. He inspected damages carefully and shook his head in grief. This fighter would never fly again. Sigh...

He crawled inside and rummaged around until he found his backpack. Well, actually it was just a big rectangular container with automatic magno-clamps, but he carried it on his back and used it for packing things, therefore he called it backpack. It was quite handy for a bot on the run. Subspace pockets could only hold so much, after all.
He filled it with every piece of junk he thought would be useful, threw it outside, took one last look at the cockpit and left himself.

Outside he knelt by Raven's side pressing his forehead to it.
It had been love on sight. Rust first saw Raven on Galorie's Aerial Stunt Contest, and just knew he had to fly her. It took him over a month to steal her, and even longer before the enraged owner finally gave up the chase. And now she was dead.
"It was a wonderful stellar-cycle, Raven. Goodbye."

He walked away slowly, and when he was far enough, he pressed the button on the box he was holding. He didn't look back at the sound of explosion. He'd said farewell to many friends. It was better not to look back.

"I ain't lettin' him in!"
Rattrap stood in front of the lift, robot mode, fists clenched. "Over my sparkless body!"
"Mmmm, that could be arranged," Dinobot growled, but Optimus hushed him with a gesture. He'd tried to be reasonable, but it didn't work, so...
"One more word, Rattrap, and you'll find yourself in a holding cell!"

The small bot looked almost ready to go for it for a nano, but then he just threw his hands up. "Fine! Whatever! Trust a Pred! Just don't run cryin' to me when ya wake up with his sword in yer back!" He stormed away.

Optimus breathed deeply to cool his circuits and calmed down. "Cheetor, show Dinobot where the living quarters are."
When the two disappeared inside Axalon, Primal sighed and turned to the last Maximal present.
"Did I make a mistake?"
Rhinox looked at him thoughtfully. "Hmm, maybe...but I don't think so."

Optimus closed his gorilla eyes and shook his head tiredly. "Rattrap is right. I am an exploration vessel commander, not a war leader." He looked up at his friend. "You would make a lot better work of it."
It was rhino's turn to shake his head. "Don't even ask me, Optimus. I didn't accept promotion back then, I wont accept it now. Besides, you're doing just fine."
Gorilla tried to smile wearily. "I really hope you're right..."

Bad mood seemed to be contagious that day.
Tarantulas was furious. Fuming. Enraged. Absolutely mad. He'd just examined the ships engines, and confirmed that the cruiser was grounded. And that meant that he (and the rest of the Predacons, but who cares?) was stuck on this disgusting dirtball.
May the Pit swallow the Tripredicus Council and the whole PSP (Predacon Secret Police) with it!
It was bad enough that he was assigned to such a lowly task as invigilating Megatron. He knew the reasons. After he'd got half of his squad and five head scientists killed in his last assignment, he was lucky to even be alive.

But WHY had those incompetents let Megatron escape? And TWICE at that!? He'd given them the exact time and details of the planned theft, he'd given them coordinates of the hideout, and what did they do? They passed information to the Maximals. MAXIMALS!!! Who sent an exploration ship after a battle cruiser commanded by a Predacon general. Former, and without an army, but general nonetheless. ($&&) slaggin' STUPID!
He punched a wall few times and strode through dark corridors, fuming silently.

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The evergreen forest was now just a blur far back on the horizon, replaced by a grassy plain. The plain that was ending abruptly in a steep rock face. Up ahead, cutting at the sky, where the mountains, gray-blue and white. And occupying the valley between the two was a massive woodland. It wasn't on fire. It only looked like it.

The gray wolf with a black container on his back was standing on the edge of the cliff, soaking in everything. Oh Primus, he just had to remember this! Let's see.

The smell of rotting leaves - accord of few deep notes.
The frosty air - high pitched, crowded, fast notes.
The mountains - a rumbling background few octaves down.

But how to transcribe to sounds all those reds, oranges, yellows and occasional greens? Tricky. Maybe leveled, middle pitched tune with undertones sliding around it?

He tried that out and grinned. Yep. Sounded just like autumn forest.
It was his most private and highly guarded secret. He had hundreds of such tunes stored in his datatrax, and all he had to do was to replay one in his mind for memories to explode behind his optics.
He stood there yet for a while, and then resumed his search.

It was few solar-cycles later. Things settled down a little, enough for Rhinox to concentrate on his job. But he encountered some difficulties...
He tapped his fingers on a datapad, but its content refused to change. It was Axalon's cargo register.
"Somethin' buggin' ya, buddy?"
"I wanted to work on our comlinks to eliminate communication problems..."
"But?"
"But we don't have enough component's. Most of a long range comm equipment and its spare parts were in cargo hold #7."
"The one I spent a whole solar-cycle patchin' up?"
"Yep."
"So now wadda ya do?"
"Work with what I have."
"Which is nothin'. Eh, we're all gonna die."
"It's not funny, Rattrap."
"Can ya see me smilin'?"

Rust hid an energon feeder in his backpack and stretched his arms, fresh influx of energy spreading through his body. Hunting was fun and satisfying, but energon kept him going for longer. And it looked like it would take a looooong time to find Megs. And he had to find him.
Because he'd sworn to protect and obey Megatron, and rouge as he was, he always honored his word. Period.

He activated backpack's clamps, tossed it in the air, beastmoded and jumped under it as it fell. It clamped neatly to his back, and Rust grinned a wolfish grin of self-admiration. He then trotted along mountain ridge until he reached the point where it sloped down. To the left slope was descending in a long, curved and almost snow-free pass. To the right it was steep and covered with knee-high layer of snow. The safe way and the fast way.
Sheesh, these choices were killing him. Hehehe.
YeeeeeHaaaaaaa!!!

Inside a cave weaved in patchwork of cobwebs Tarantulas checked the monitors and muttered something unrepeatable in irritation. First the huge energon storm forced him to shut down all systems, then Megatron summoned him to inspect one of computers, claiming that it had served as a transporter only a mega-cycle ago (the spider chuckled at the thought; like anyone on the planet had a knowledge to build such thing!), and now this.

He'd build about fifty arachnoids that everybody called 'flash-lights' (they were handy spy-devices in fact) and have send half of them to investigate a signal his scanners had picked up some time ago. The signal turned out to be a small Maximal beacon, lying amid other parts scattered on the desert. Most of them where too big for arachnoids to move, but Tarantulas, chuckling evilly, made them collect smaller parts, the beacon included. Teeheehee, Maximals will be in for a little surprise when he lays his hands on that...

He'd been monitoring arachnoids' movements through the screens and everything was fine till one of links went dead. He'd blamed it on interferences at the time, but now four more screens showed static. Something was destroying his devices!

He sat behind the console and remotely turned one of arachnoids around. The screen showed nothing but other machines, marching steadily, and a lot of sand. No weather anomalies, no Maximals, nothing.

And just when Tarantulas thought that whatever the problem had been, it was gone now, vision on the screen shook and spun, showing something red, with a hint of opalescent. Spider gawked, then swiftly switched to another 'flash-light', and turned it around to see the mysterious attacker.

A cat. A handsome red cat with a piece of metal scrap in its mouth. As Tarantulas watched, it tossed it to the air, caught it again, shook it a little, and when it failed to move, dropped it to the ground and started towards him...toward his devises, that is.

Oh no you don't! He hastily turned on the speakers, set volume on high and bellowed "GET OUT OF HERE ACURSED FELINE!!!"

The cat did its best to beat a record in vertical jump, and then disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Rust sneezed and smiled a wolfish smile at a little cloud that formed before him. He snapped at it cheerfully. He was having really great time, running, hunting and...and... going somewhere? He frowned suddenly and shook his head.
Searching for Megatron.
What was wrong with him, slaggit?

He tried to remember what he'd been doing lately, and though it was pretty monotonous, (going up, going down, going up, going down), he was sure there were holes in his memory. Like when he was sliding down a slope, thinking of re-energizing...and then suddenly he was lapping from the stream, blood on his head and paws.
What was happening? Maybe the pod messed up his memory chips after all?
Well, one more reason to hurry up the search. Megatron had CR-tanks on his ship.

For some time things went smoothly, the days ran by, filled with minor skirmishes and peaceful scheming, and then everything happened at the same time.

Tarantulas rushed into his lair and lunged for the scanners. They'd had another little 'battle' with Maximals, but to the Pit with that, the signal, had his scanner picked up the signal?!
Yes!
Frequency, scan, save.
Frequency from his datatrax, download, compare.
Do they match?

Visor narrowed, mandibles gritted, Tarantulas stared at the screen and waited...

Frequencies match

...and a pure, intense hatred flooded him, gluing him to the place. He had no idea how long he was standing there, glaring at the two simple words.

Frequencies match

It was a sudden movement on the other screen that finally unfroze him. Vision from one of arachnoids was hopping wildly, and it was no great mystery why. The cat was back.
Tarantulas darted to the console.
"DON'T YOU TOUCH THAT YOU BLASTED ANIMAL!"

The blasted animal jumped few steps away, but didn't bolt this time. It cocked its head, watching the strange noisy things curiously, and then followed them.

"Oh I HOPE you will follow them straight to my lair, cat! I'll show you what curiosity is all about! I'll keep you alive for MONTHS!"

Bleep **Tarantulas!** Scorponok's panicked voice came through the comlink.
The spider-bot whirled in place.
"WHAT!?"
**Megatron is badly damaged!**

Rust scaled another peak, straightened up and breathed deeply, savoring the sight, the freezing sensation in his air intakes and the way his strained joints relaxed. Mmmm...

Up here energon fields were very weak, allowing him to stay in robot mode much longer, and he eagerly exploited that. Scaling was fun, and the fact that an energon surge could kick in unexpectedly, messing up his coordination, only added thrill to it. Mmmm, the thrill...
And the memory lapses seemed to subside, which was good news as well.
His optics shining brightly, Rust checked his inner scanner, more out of habit than hope, and laughed suddenly.
"Whaddaya know, it's working!"

Unit located; energy level: 100; status: functional, on-line; vector: 2-5-7

"Cool!" It was very limited information, true, but, as he was told, it was the price of the range and secrecy. Megatron didn't even know he had a small tracking device half-fused into his hard core...
Here I come, Megs! You wont escape me now!
With a brilliant smile the young bot beastmoded (his backpack fell off of his robot back and almost immediately clamped to his wolf one - hey, he was getting better and better at this!) and hit the road. Er...the mountains. Er, oh, whatever!
But just as his thoughts dissolved into a warm haze of happiness and satisfaction, the readings changed.

status: damaged, off-line;

NO! Nonononono, his oath! He didn't waste time freezing in terror or shouting.

He shot out of place, speeding through the mountains.
It was sheer panic that was driving him running along crests, sliding down to passes, flying in wild leaps over cracks. If he didn't keep his word... He had to keep his word!
He was barely aware of his surrounding blurring past him.
Two words were burning in his mind.
damaged, off-line;
Damaged. Not terminated. Not yet.
He ran.

The CR-tank's platform rose, and Megatron emerged, roaring in remembered pain. It took him few nanos to realize that pain wasn't there any more, that he was safe in his base.
What happened? He looked up at cheering Scorponok, and asked that out loud.

Tarantulas stepped back from the console, where he had been overseeing the restoration.
"You and Waspinator were returned to us, badly damaged."
Megatron closed his eyes, trying to dig up memories from his clouded mind. He nodded slowly.
"Yess. I remember now"

functional, on-line;

Rust collapsed on his muzzle. Panic had worn off over two mega-cycles ago, and since then he'd been going on by pure determination. Now he was paying for it. The world was spinning around him, flashing in bright colors (hey, nice colors...) and all his circuits were queuing up to complain about overtime and bad working conditions.

He needed to recharge.
No, he needed to refuel.
No, he needed a CR-tank...

Megatron, I'm gonna kill you. Well, maybe not you, but somebody...

Lesson to remember, children: transforming while seriously over-strained and energon depleted hurts.
He whined softly, pulling out the feeder and energon crystals.
I shall remember that experience fondly...after the pain wears off...

He dug himself a hole in the snow, crawled in, and only after he did that he wondered why. Perhaps the beast instincts kicked in...but he was in robot mode... But before he could give that a second thought, the universe waved goodbye and shut him out.

Optimus's consciousness drifted in the darkness, trying to find something familiar it could relate to. It remembered a brief, intense pain, remembered its body disappearing...

Its body. His body. Where was it?

He thought he could sense it somewhere near...near, but beyond his reach. He needed help. There was someone who could help...

Maximals. Yes. He remembered now. And as he concentrated on the memory, he heard faint voices. Was it Rhinox? And Rattrap... sounding upset. And another raised voice responding him. An argument? No, they couldn't be fighting. He was alone and afraid and needed their help. But could he reach them? What if he couldn't?

Maximals...
Silence.
"Maximals! Come in, are you receiving?"
Silence still. What if they couldn't hear him?
"Maximal Command Base, this is Optimus."
Can you hear me? Please, can you hear me?
**Optimus? This is Rhinox, where are you?**
Oh, thanks the Matrix...
"Hard to say. I think my body is locked inside the alien probe, but--"

An accented voice interrupted him.
**We'll come and getcha. Just keep static**

He'd never thought he would be so glad to hear that voice. Nor that it could hold so much concern. It helped him to calm down and focus.
"Just beware Predacon attack. They'll be after you, now that you're outnumbered. Rattrap, you're in charge"

Because Cheetor is out of the question, Dinobot...he would cause too much trouble, and Rhinox would never forgive me. And because there's so much concern in your voice. Please come and get me out of here...

Rust was waked three mega-cycles later by a surge shock. He cursed half-heartedly, unhooked the feeder, beastmoded and slept on. He dimly noted that something changed, but he didn't care. The universe could collapse and reborn several times for all he cared right now. He needed rest!

...

Hallo, this is your self-preservation speaking, wake up!

I mean it, there's something wrong, sleepyhead!

Something is suffocating you, WAKE UP!

With a growl Rust jumped to his feet. 'Suffocate' was exaggerating; the pressure was very weak, and the air was still tolerable. His beast mode instincts were a bit paranoid...
Well, ok, they probably weren't used to being buried under ten feet of snow. He knew it was ten feet, because he took time to measure the tunnel he'd dug to the surface. He must have slept through some heavy snowing. Two solar-cycles of heavy snowing, to be exact.
He yawned, hooking himself to the feeder again. The pain and dizziness were gone, but he was hungry. He caught himself thinking about rabbits, deer, birds, ferrets...

"Energon is just fine, you bloodthirsty creature..." and he laughed silently at the sound of it.
Loneliness is getting at you, isn't it. Well, you've spent most of your live among people. Even when you where hiding from them in some cargo-hold, you could still sense them. You miss that, don't you...
He yawned again.
"Talking to yourself is a sign of madness," he said and chuckled. "Which means half of our crew is insane. I should fit in nicely."

IF he would find them... He checked his Megs-checker. Still on-line, still on the planet. Good.
When he felt full he trotted onward, and after few more slopes he discovered that his mad race had took him almost all the way through the mountain range.
He took one look at the magnificent open space before him, mostly filled with water, and whistled loudly in appreciation.

Whistling loudly in snow-laid mountains is NOT a wise thing to do. Rust learned about it the hard way.

&&&&

OW. Oooow. Owowowowowow my head ow ow owowow my paws owmy tail... my tail! do I still have my tail? OW. I have. It hurts. Owowowowow my back... owowowowowowoowow my everything! WHAT happened?

After some serious howling done, he was finally able to focus. He could barely move, the air was stiff and he was surrounded by a cold whiteness.

Primus, I HATE deja vu's... They are waste of time! And I don't have time to waste!

So maybe you should start digging, smart head? OW! No, start internal repairs first...

It took him a long time to free himself from a snowy grave. He didn't bother to measure the tunnel this time. He was sore, and hungry, and he'd had enough snow to last him a life time (ha!), and if his famous luck didn't come back with a very good excuse it would end up discovering how extremely displeased with it Rust was! Grrrrr!
But then he looked up and his bad mood was kicked away in an instant. He was practically at the seashore. And he loved water! He loved how it looked, how it sounded, how it reflected light... and now he had all intention of discovering if swimming was such fun as it looked like for fleshlings.

It was. And some fish were dumb enough to swim straight into his jaws. All praise the beast mode!

An eagle flied over a mountaintop, a king of the skies, powerful and majestic, he roamed free... up until the point when he was hit by a red blur and swallowed whole.
Terrorsaur shook few odd feathers off his beak and belched. It was good to be a Predacon. It was even better to be a Predacon on his off time, flying wherever his fancy took him, and, most important of all, it was good to be very far away from the scheming, cheating bastard that went by the name of Megatron. What a dumb name, anyway. Did it even mean anything? No! Did it sound good? No! It's only (dubious) merit was it was supposed to belong to a great Decepticon leader. Yeah, right. If the guy were so great, he wouldn't be dead now. Did he do his leadery duty of conquering the galaxy and ensuring that his descendants were the masters of it? No! Did he, at least, created a universe where a mech minding his own business could get drunk and not wake up an employee of a trigger-happy megalomaniac? No! Great work there, First Megatron!
Terrorsaur belched again, and dropped the angsting in favor of savoring the satisfying weight in his stomach. The beast-mode had seriously hampered his speed, but it had its merits too. And though the waste disposal was messy, it was always fun to try and drop crap and pellets on his comrades' heads. Not as much fun as a good gladiator fight or a night in a bar, but hey, a bot had to enjoy what he had, since a certain purple reject decided to drag him to some uninhibited dirt-ball...

Such was Terrorsaur's state of mind when he, so to speak, rounded a corner and came face to face with a gigantic, floating energon storage. It was really small wonder that the first thing he thought of upon accidentally super-charging himself was a serious Megatron skid-plate kicking.

Few solar-cycles after the 'avalanche incident', Rust was sitting comfortably, enjoying the wind in his fur, and singing at the top of his lungs. He allowed himself that breach of security, because he was in the middle of the ocean, with no sentient in sight, and he could barely hear himself anyway. It wasn't any of his compositions, of course. They were only music, without words. No, he was singing a marine song he picked up from four-armed, tailed fleshlings from Oni System. He'd spent a wonderful month with them, and learned a lot.

For example: there he was, alone on the beach, and he only had some tools and parts in his backpack, and some trees nearby, and fleshling-acquired knowledge, and voila, here he was now, in his very own jet-engined, trans-ocean vessel.
Ok, so name it a boat. But it did have a small jet engine. He knew it would come in handy...
Yes, he'd learned a lot at Oni-Prima. Sailing, fishing, star-navigating, not collapsing in shock at the sight of people singing in public... Yes, it did happen to him once... Hehehe. It scared them a lot, they thought he had fit or something... Mmmm, Oni-Prima...

And Megatron chose that pleasant, wistful moment to scare him again. At least this time there was a flicker of energy level, indicating fighting, before status went
damaged, off-line;

And since there was nothing Rust could do to increase his speed, he just sat there, in his homemade boat, singing even louder to drown out the feeling of dread. It worked. When few mega-cycles later his Megs-checker informed him that the Predacon leader was restored once more, he barely felt relieved, he was so relaxed. Or maybe it was effect of hyperventilation. Or just plain old weariness. He didn't really care. He curled at the bottom of his vessel and slept.

The change in the roar of the waves woke him up just in time to avoid the crash. He hauled the boat to the shore, secured it and did his best to hide it (well, you never know, it could be useful again someday!).

Then he turned inland and checked the coordinates.
He grinned a wolfish grin.
"Here I come!"

End part one

(Chapter edited on 21.11.2007)