CHAPTER 1

The year is Stardate 0113.

Two years have passed since the Fifth Moon Incident, where the notorious outlaw, Vash the Stampede, drilled a hole in Gunsmoke's Fifth Moon and obliterated the city of Augusta with an incredible power known as the Angel Arm.

He has been missing for two years now.

It was midday. A small, black cat was poking about in the trash cans in a dusty little alleyway. People passed by the alley, completely unaware of the little animal, as he paid no attention to them. The cat found the remains of a sandwich and hopped down to enjoy his meal.

That's when he noticed that the people seemed to be in some hurry. Confused and urgent shouts split the air as they rushed past. Once again, the cat decided to take no notice. He'd stay out of their business, and they'd stay out of his.

The cat was half-finished with the sandwich when he suddenly heard what the people were saying.

Vash the Stampede was here.

The cat's green eyes seemed to double in size. He immediately abandoned his meal and dashed out after the crowd. On the way, he heard the latest news: The local family feud between the Fleets and the Orkettes had reached a new low—a sand-steamer had been hijacked and someone had crashed an armored car into the side in addition to a hostage situation. Vash had made a surprise appearance and intervened, adding to the chaos.

The cat hadn't seen the outlaw in two years. For years, he had followed Vash about the planet as discreetly as possible, watching his every move. Losing him during the Fifth Moon Incident had frustrated the cat beyond belief. It was as if Vash had disappeared from the face of Gunsmoke—all hints of his scent, bits of clothing, anything indicating Vash's being were gone. The only thing that remained of him was the ruins of Augusta.

This news was great news!

He leapt up onto a fence, then to a windowsill, then to the roof of a building. The cat trotted along the rooftops until he had full view of the situation. He watched it play out, whiskers twitching with interest. This was definitely Vash the Stampede.

The cat slinked back down into an alleyway. He looked around quickly to ensure it was deserted. He opened his jaws, but instead of the expected meow, words with a slightly tinny quality came out instead.

"Maximize!"

The cat suddenly changed shape into a small robot; skinny, and about the height of a small child. If anyone had witnessed this, they probably would have dismissed it as a hallucination, but the cat had indeed transformed.

The little robot fiddled with a dial under a plate of armor on his wrist, remarking quietly to himself, "Oh man, the team's going to be glad to here this!"

…

Unbeknownst to the inhabitants of the planet below, an alien spacecraft had been stationed on their second moon for quite a few years now. It was about the size of an Orca-class sand-steamer and a dull silver in color. On its hull, its name was inscribed in the aliens' language along with an emblem defining its faction. If one was human, they'd have no idea what it said. If one was of the planet Cybertron, they'd know it was the Maximal craft Airtrooper.

On board snoozed a stocky blue-green mech.

"Revolute to Airtrooper."

The 'bot, who was seated at the communications module, jolted awake from his stasis nap at the sound of the incoming transmission. Frantically, he entered in a code to open the communications channel, and hoped no one had seen him napping.

"This is Trapdash," the mech answered the transmission.

"Yo, Trapdash!" the small cat-bot exclaimed.

The 'bot returned the greeting. "Hey! What's up, Rev?"

"You'll never guess who I found!" Rev sounded excited.

Trapdash leaned forward in anticipation. "No...!"

"Yup," Rev said. Trapdash could picture the little 'bot nodding with a wide grin on his faceplate. "Vash the Stampede."

"Ha ha! I knew he was still kicking around somewhere on Gunsmoke!" Trapdash laughed. "Hold on a klik, I'll get Sharpshot on the line."

The mech swiveled about on his seat to a different module. He flicked several levers and with a stylistic twirl of his finger, pressed a green button.

"Hey, Sharpshot!" He drew out the second syllable.

A deeper voice replied promptly. "Yes?"

Trapdash's leaned back in his seat, and crossed his legs leisurely with a grin. "Rev's on the line. He's got news you might wanna hear."

Sharpshot was on the bridge in less than a nano-klik.

"It's Vash, isn't it. You found him?" the tall mech exclaimed.

"It wouldn't hurt to lower your voice, Sharpshot," Rev complained.

The mech sighed irately. "Sorry. Did you find Vash?" he asked at a quieter volume.

"Sure did. He showed up during a conflict between those families over some old Plant."

Sharpshot sighed again, this time in relief. "Thank Primus you found him. I was starting to think he'd died after the Fifth Moon Incident."

"Naw, he's very alive," Rev reassured, getting cut off by the sudden sound of gunshots. "That was him, just then. The guy's trying to scare the bystanders out of the area, I think." He paused for a moment, probably to observe the action. "Hey, I also picked up a strange signature by the sand-steamer. I'll send it to Brand to check out." Brand was the third member of the crew aboard the Airtrooper. "It had hints of Pred,"

"More Predacons?" Trapdash squealed. Sharpshot sighed once again, although this time it sounded like more of a snort.

"More?" Rev echoed. "I don't like the sound of that."

"There's been a rise in Predacon activity in the last deca-cycle," Sharpshot reported grimly. "They must know Vash has come out of hiding."

Rev emitted a cat-like growl. "Well, that's great."

"I know Vash can hold his own in a fight, but I doubt he'd survive a fight against a Pred," Sharpshot reflected. "But they won't kill him since he's a Plant… at least not right away."

Trapdash was suddenly serious. "If they get a hold of him… Primus forbid."

"Primus forbid indeed." Sharpshot planted a firm servo down onto the module. "I've decided. We're going down there."

"What! We'll be obliterated!" Rev exclaimed. "Four against who knows how many Preds!"

The tall mech's faceplate turned exceedingly serious as he responded. "Four is better than none. If the Plants are seized by the Predacons, every organic on Gunsmoke will die. As Maximals, we are to protect life, not sit around and let it be destroyed."

"Right," Rev replied sheepishly.

"And don't forget, we'll be fighting on the same side as Vash. I'm sure he's an amazing ally to have," Trapdash put in.

Sharpshot nodded, then straightened up and took on a commanding tone. "We'll be reformatting ASAP. Rev, rendezvous with me at coordinates E-211, B-105 in one solar-cycle. Contact me if things change and that won't work out."

"Roger!" the small Maximal confirmed. A loud flurry of gunshots interrupted Rev. "Whoops, looks like I have to go. See you then." The transmission cut off.

"Well, that's sudden," Trapdash commented. He cocked his head. "Say, you told Rev to rendezvous with you, not us. What about me and Brand?"

Sharpshot glanced down at the communications specialist. "I'll go over my plans for you two once Brand's done with his work. For now, start preparing the ship's system for extended leave."

"Yes sir!" Trapdash saluted. He turned back to his equipment with a grin playing on his mouthplate. Finally, he thought, fingers dancing across the keyboard, we'll get to see some action!