Burnt Bridges: Part 3: Feral (Side 2)
“Yer joking o’course!”
“Why would I be?”
“We gotta trek all the way back ‘cause you forgot somethin’? Sounds like a joke ta me.”
“That’s unfair, I didn’t forget anything. It’s just that my sensors are unable to cope with what they’re being bombarded with.”
“Which is?”
“I can’t tell. That’s the point. Hence why we have to fetch the booster.”

Crouching in the foliage, I watch the strangers conversing, examining them. Clearly, they are kin to Scorponok. The first speaker is shaped not unlike the hard-shells who exist between sea and land – a great hump of red not-quite metal-flesh. Only it has no head, just a grouping of large blank blue eyes. And its legs are simply grey stumps.

The second is shaped almost as a four-legs at rest, front paws laid neatly ahead of a flattened body. But it has the same smooth, featureless hide as its companion, shaded in blue and tan, and a long, hollow tube sits on its back.

The red creature edges forward a little.
“No. Hence why you have ta go an’ fetch the booster. Ah’ll stay here and wait for ya.”
“Jetfire won’t like us splitting up…”
“Signalflare, ah’ll say this a scientifically as ah can: Starscream has got one a those damn keys already. We need ta get the rest yesterday. We don’t have Kicker so the only way we can find the Secondary Key or whatever its called is by searchin’ this entire planet for some kinda icon that could be it. And with all those gravity distortions blanketin’ this place an’ messing up our sensors, the only way we’ll do that is by good old fashioned explorin’. So the more ground we cover the better an ah ain’t wastin’ time retracin’ mah tracks. So go an’ get yer booster an’ catch me up.”
“But your sensors can’t penetrate –” comes the protest.
“Ah can see an’ hear an’ smell can’t ah?”
“Well yes, but –”
“Get goin’!”

The blue one retreats, moving on four circular stubs and two of those shifting blocks that Scorponok possesses.
“All right, all right! As you insist. But don’t go too far ahead.”
“Go!”
“I’m gone!”
‘Signalflare’ slides away, leaving the other to wander about, his stubs churning up the ground.

No obvious weak points…he will be unable to evade me on those stumps but his hide looks thick. I recall the lack of effect of Draco’s blows against Scorponok. Tensing, I pad a little closer.

Before I can strike, a jarring scream splits the quiet. A harigal plunges from the leaves, creepers reaching to crush and kill, closing…around emptiness. The red thing has shot aside, moving far faster than I would have thought possible. The Terror hits the ground, flowing after him.

Red splits in half, lengthways, as if someone had sliced clean through him with a blade. The bottom half rears up, sprouting proper legs as a collection of tubes and strange looking fronds emerge from its upper surface. The top half becomes a two-legs.

He lands astride his other part and examines the harigal with the look of a hunter.
“Yer an ugly critter, ain’t yah?”
Nonsense words and the harigal is confused by them, drawing its seeking vines back around its root, ready to defend. Red jumps down.
“But yer ain’t gonna hurt little old me, are yah? Ah wouldn’t taste too good!”

Are all other-worlders mad? A harigal can pierce metal-flesh with its barbed tendrils and desires nothing more than life-flow. Which is exactly what this one tries to do next, rearing up to strike.

Red points at the Terror. Water sprays from his finger tip, forming a fine mist that settles all over the harigal. It stops. Just stops. Slowly, it collapses into a heap of green flesh.
“Told yer. Don’t worry, that was just a shot a’ relaxant. Y’ll be able ta go on yer way soon enough.”

I should turn and leave. Or kill this intruder as his attention is elsewhere. Yet…yet…my curiosity is gnawing at me again. The more I try to distance myself from this insanity, the more I feel drawn to it.

“Why do you not kill it?”
He turns at my approach, eyes widening. His face is worn. He looks old, as the Teacher does, and hardened against the world.
“Why should ah have?”
“It is a Terror. It would have killed you and feasted on your corpse. Yet you to not act in retaliation.”
“Once ah guess ah would a’ killed. Used ta be a real shoot-first-damn-the-side-effects kinda guy. S’pose vorns ah chasin’ Deceps about the place has worn me down. Then again, killin’ dumb animals ain’t somethin’ Autobots are supposed ta do. An’ speakin’ a’ animals, if you’re just a weird lookin’ wolf, mah name ain’t Ironhide.”

I rise, taking my sword in hand.
“I am Wolfang. What is a wolf?”
Now he frowns.
“S’ an earth animal. Looks like what you just transformed outta.”
“I know nothing of a wolf. Or an earth animal.”
“No, ah suppose you won’t. Ah’m Ironhide, as yah mighta gathered. Ah’m from a planet called Cybertron.”
“Another world among the stars? Where everything is different and no one hunts?”
“Yeah, s’pose yer could say that.” Ironhide plucks a leaf from the ground and flicks it into the air. “Though some places ain’t that different from here. And there are loads a’ people who consider ‘emsleves hunters. Plenty a’ Deceps do. Like ta’ chase an’ kill. Me, ah’m a simple infantry mech. I fight on the battlefield, make sure that the kids don’t get scrapped and deal with things as they come ta me, not the other way round. What about you? What you do and how’d you end up with an alt-mode like that?”

I think over his words before answering. A being who lets dangers come to him? Who fights but only in fields of combat? That is how the entire world could be described. Another difference from the others. But he said there were worlds like this. And the talk of wolf and alt-mode…it means much to him but not to me. And I find myself desperate to understand.
“I cannot answer. I am a hunter. I have no ‘alt-mode’. Sometimes I walk on four legs, sometimes on two. Sometimes I bear a blade, other times fangs. I hunt and I kill. I feed on prey and destroy Terrors. Such is the way it has always been. I can tell you no more.”
I expect puzzlement. Instead, he just nods.
“Ah see. Guess we shoulda seen this comin’.”
“Seen what?”
“That we got culture ta get in the way. Heck, if Vector Prime’s bin’ watchin’ us fer Primus knows how long and ah still don’t get half the things he goes on about, ah can’t expect to meet a mech who’s bin’ completely cut off from Cybertron on an alien planet to be the same as me.”
That does make some sense.
“You speak of Cybertron. Are you kin to Scorponok?”

His attitude changes instantly. He becomes alert, read to fight; his face goes hard and fierce.
“Where the heck does Scorponok come into it?”
“He is the king.”
“King a’ what?”
“Everything. Our world. This world”
“When did that happen?”
“A short while ago. He bested Draco atop the Temple and claimed the Burning Throne.” I shift uneasily. “Though he did not wish it so.”
“Yeah right. I’d think a Decep ‘ud be pretty happy at bein’ king of somewhere. Where is he now?”
“He is a foe of yours?”
“He’s dead. Or should be. Where. Is. He.”

No. No, I will not tell him. What right does he have to command me? For that is what he is doing, his voice strong and forceful, his stance aggressive. This is my territory, my world. He holds no sway here or –

“Listen, Scorponok’s dangerous. Yah gotta tell me. You, all you’re people – there in danger.”
Danger? He implies we are weak? That is enough.
“You know nothing of this world. Go back to your own. Only true hunters may approach the Temple. Those who lack the resolve to survive are prey and as such have no place there.”
I change and turn my back on Ironhide.
“Wait! Please! Ah need to –”

I leave him to the forest.

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What is happening to me? I cannot decide what I should do – hunt, return to the Temple, go back and help Ironhide…things conflict inside me, instinct and thought, what I want and what I do not want blurring with horrible intensity. I what the aliens to go, to have never been. I want to learn about the worlds they hail from. I want to turn and tear into Ironhide. I want to go and speak to Scorponok.

My mind is twisting and writhing as much as the many-legs did, approaching destruction. Why is this happening? Why?

The Temple. The answers are there. I know it. I do not know how but I know.

It has changed even more. Not just one corner but three have vanished, leaving in their place a new forest, one of glittering trunks and black vines. Clusters of eyes move among the strange trees, circling a giant, broken dagger. As they pass and touch this huge thing, it heals, slowly growing up to the sky.

I climb the steps that remain, taking refuge on the stones. They are familiar, a calm between the world of the hunt and this insanity from the stars. How many times have I climbed them to face Draco Prime? To challenge the king for the Throne? Every few seasons his roar would fill our senses, calling us to face him. Of all of us, only Stormfront stood a chance. Still we came. Still we fought. What else was there to do?

Now is that all gone? Will more aliens come, with their smooth hides and spears of sunlight and invincibility? Will we fall? Go from hunter to prey?

“Wolfang.”
Draco is sitting on the halfway-ledge, resting his back against the stones so that he may better see the trees below.
“You have come back then. Hard to resist, is it not?”
I seat myself at his feet.
“Yes. But…it feels wrong…alien.”
“Alien…wrong…such inadequate words. Scorponok speaks of things so far beyond us…” He shakes his head. “The things he has shown me…we went into the Temple – into it! It is like Fangragrah…caves within caves. But these…caverns full of…machines. That is what he called them. Forests of metal-flesh…mecha-forming arrays…stellar cartography computers… environmental controllers…engineering plants…he acted as if he had stumbled on a nest of great-prey…happy with those bizarre things.” Draco’s eyes become unfocused. “All his strength and all that pleases him is the action of those things. Why can I not share that pleasure? Are we so wrong in our lives?”
“No!” I am vehement. “Those are cannot be your thoughts! Something is affecting us, all of us! Ever since Scorponok came here, things have changed!” Obvious, I suppose, with the Temple changing all around us. “We are not the ones who are wrong. They come where they are not needed!”
“But…how can we tell that we are right? Scorponok is above us in life – stronger, more cunning. He is the king. His is now the lead we must follow. And yet I question: which is our true path? Metal-flesh and the hunt…or metal alone and a life in the stars…”

My words finally catch up with this rambling giant.
“‘They’? You said, ‘they’ did you not?”
Any answer is stopped by the arrival of Scorponok himself, accompanied by a Backstop.
“I simply cannot comprehend your world,” the king is saying, “You fight for no cause and for no faction. Instead, you scrounge an existence, struggling to survive on a planet doing its best to destroy you. All you would have to do is to fight together and you could tame it!”
“That is not the way we are…”
“So you keep telling me! I just don’t understand why it is not. Some of the technology in this pyramid – most of it in fact – is beyond the realm of modern science. But it is also Cybertronian; I’m sure of that, and very, very old. Which suggests that whoever built it and by extension, whoever settled this world in the first place was extremely advanced.” He grinds his teeth in annoyance. “Which makes your way of life all the more ridiculous! The technology is here! At your fingertips! And for some reason it has not just been abandoned but forgotten in favour of primitive savagery! All you would have to do is tap into it…and use these ‘prey’ of yours, organise them into a workforce…the entire planet could be tamed in a few short vorns!”
“But…”
“And another thing…how in the universe can you exist with such a limited battery of sensors? If what’s happened to me is anything to go by, you barely have anything beyond smell, touch, hearing and taste. It’s ludicrous!”
“That is the way –”
“Backstop, I am warning you: tell me ‘this is the way it has always been’ one more time and I will rip you apart.”

The Teacher is clearly unable to answer and Scorponok throws up his arms in despair.
“The sooner I get off this mad planet and back to civilisation, the better. Pit take it, I’d be happy to land on an Autobot-controlled planet if it’s got something vaguely recognisable as a proper Cybertronian society.”

I lift my head.
“These Autobots are your enemies.”
“Yes they are…” He snaps a claw. “That wasn’t a question, was it?”
“No. They are here. I have spoken with one of them.”

Scorponok stares at me for a long while before answering.
“I see. Did this one give his name?”
“Ironhide.”
“Interesting. How far away were they?”
“A…” How to put this? “Many strides from here. That way.”
“Then hopefully they will not interfere.”
He starts to walk back up to the Temple-top.
“Aren’t you going to hunt them?” Draco gets to his feet, unsteady in his disbelief.
“Why? What end would it serve?” He looks over his shoulder. “Perhaps earlier, when I needed I ship I would have paid them some attention but now…well, my Animatros spawned shuttle is nearly ready. And besides, I have no idea how many of them are here. I may be powerful but – unless any of you would care to fight with me…”
I glower at another show of stupidity.
“The king fights alone.”
“Precisely. So I do not know if I would be able to win. I expect they will want to capture or kill me and I did not escape the destruction of Galavtron’s flagship for that. I wish to leave. The Autobots are welcome to this world. I will only be concerned about them if they try to interfere with my departure.”

“Now, that’s a real shame.”
Ironhide’s voice springs from thin air! I and the other hunters look round wildly, searching in vain. Then, some way along the ledge, a shimmer forms, the air rippling like water. The Autobot appears, with two others of his kind, all of them pointing long tubes at Scorponok.
“‘Cause interferin’ with Decepticreeps’ plans is what ah do best.”
The king himself stays still.
“Ah. The distinctive sound of three Autobots armed to the dental casings emerging from behind a multi-sensor shroud. Very clever. Go away.”
Ironhide glowers.
“Nice comeback, spider-face, but we don’t give up that easy. Ah’m givin’ yer this one chance ta give yerself up.”
“How kind. Go away. I wish to leave and I’m not going to allow you to get in my way. You will regret it.”
“Like frag.”
Scorponok sighs.
“I don’t want to fight you.”
“Which is why yer claws are twitchin’ like that, I guess?”

They are. The king’s claws are slowly flexing open and closed. He seems surprised to find them doing it and at last faces his foes.
“So they are. Listen to me you old fool and listen well. I have become more powerful than you could ever imagine. The full might of this world flows through me. I am leaving and there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop me.”
The other warrior raises an eyebrow.
“So a re-spray suddenly equals a power up, does it? An’ all that loada’ mumbo-jumbo supposed ta scare me?”
“I…can’t say I know why I just said that but yes, if you have any cerebral circuitry, it should.”

They stand there for a moment, daring each other to move. Ironhide shrugs.
“Got ta the pit.”
Light leaps from the tube in his hands. It strikes the king full in the face. He staggers. And something in him changes.

The space between him and the Autobots vanishes. One claw closes around Ironhide’s weapon and snaps it into fragments while the other knocks one of his fellows off the ledge. Ironhide balls his fists and brings them down on the mass of black hide in front of him. Scorponok shifts to his other form and lifts the smaller being off his feet, shaking him hard. The third Autobot, who must be Signalflare, launches a great ball of boiling matter. It misses completely and comes straight at us. We scatter, Backstop down the steps, me against the inner wall and Draco…Draco charges.

He catches Signalflare a blow across the head before hurling after his fellow. That fellow is already climbing back up and as the body sails past him, he growls.
“OK bozo: this mean war!” In a motion oddly elegant for someone so boxy, he reverses his light-spear, two blades springing out to make it an axe. “And you chose the wrong side!”

My attention goes back to Ironhide and Scorponok. The king is bucking, tail whipping and swiping. Ironhide has somehow managed to seize the end and is hanging on with all his might. It is dizzying to watch. Tiring of trying to shake his passenger off, Scorponok settles for slamming him repeatedly against the stones.

Draco’s opponent is resilient but hopelessly outmatched. His axe doesn’t even graze the orange hide and he soon goes down under a hail of blows. I observe, feeling that same curious detachment I felt in the mist. What is the purpose of these battles? They only delay Scorponok’s departure. The Autobots could gain nothing from him even if they did capture him. He’s been drifting in space for at least a vorn. He knows nothing of current troop positions or strategies.

A low whining noise reaches my audio receptors as Scorponok’s actions grow in fury. Ironhide’s armour is cracking under the assault. I idly identify the sound as that of an approaching aircraft, probably using Earth-formatted engines. I am more concerned about the potential damage to the shuttle. The trans-warp drive is complete so it won’t be misaligned by an impact but one stray missile and the hull could be breached.

I try to locate the incoming craft, cursing the primitive sensors I have to work with. Scorponok is now forcing Ironhide into the ground, slowly crushing his superstructure. Draco has started to quest around for the source of the droning. What does he intend to do? Breath fire at a jet?

Something is wrong here…

Why…

Am…

I…

Thinking…

The massive plane swoops into view. Olive green with silver highlights, guns and engines hanging beneath its vast wings. Jetfire. Of course. Prime’s greatest lap dog. Hmm…I may have to reconsider the importance of this planet. That source of Matrix energy…I wonder…

Jetfire? How did I…

The Autobot opens fire, bolts of superheated plasma strafing the Temple. Draco roars his defiance and reverts to beast mode. All three mouths open and streams of flame lance upwards. I’d underestimated the range he can achieve. Jetfire is forced to pull up sharply, allowing Scorponok time to transform, not to robot mode but into a dagger shaped fighter. He rockets skywards, energy weapons and missile pods erupting into life. It is clear that Jetfire was totally unprepared for the onslaught, the shear fury of it. Scorponok does not stop, diving straight into the explosions and ramming…

PAIN.

As if I had been the one Scorponok was breaking against the stones, a head-splitting pain fills me. Away from me, Draco stands and presses his hands against his skull, no sound coming from his limp mouth. Above, Scorponok breaks away from the strange flyer, falling.

The agony vanishes. The king returns to two legs and lands. He is shaking in the fashion of a cornered prey.
“I…what…no…no, I do not want to know…not…now…”
One last shudder and he stills himself. Without a word, he stalks off.

Life flow is seeping from the many cracks in Ironhide’s body. I sniff at the liquid. It dos not smell that much different from my own. More stone, less tree. Oddly sweet to the nose.

He is not dead. Not yet. The wounds are not healing though…or perhaps they are just doing so very slowly. I could kill him now with ease. His neck is exposed and there is a rent in his side. A simple strike. But why? He is beaten and I could hardly consume something like him. I would not want to.

So instead, I go after the others.

The remainder of the Temple-top is unchanged. The Throne sits there, burning as bright as ever. Draco stands at its side, frowning fit to break his face. Scorponok is facing his ‘shuttle’. The vines and eyes are drawing away, retreating back whence they came.
“Why did I know you wouldn’t have the first clue about what happened?” the king grates, “It seems usual for you all to be completely ignorant of the powers you command. If you can even say that they are.”

Draco gives no answer. I drag a claw across one of the stone-joins.
“What did you feel? During combat. What did you feel?”
No response greets my question. After a while, I speak again.
“Have I asked a question you cannot answer?”

“No.” Scorponok’s voice is hoarse. “I can answer all too easily. I felt…intoxicated. That there was nothing and no one who could stand in my way. Everything bowed before my will, my power. It was so simple. No thought, no reason entered into it. If I was attacked, I struck back. If I wanted something, I took it. Pure, simple emotion, stripped bare. Is that what your kind feels all the time?” One touch and part of the shuttle peels back. “I hope never to feel that way again.”

All this while, Draco has been motionless. But now he stirs and strides over to place a hand on Scorponok’s shoulder.
“I want to come with you.”

I am not sure which of us is the more astonished but it is the king who recovers first.
“Do you? A shame I have no intention taking passengers then.”
“Please.” Draco speaks quietly, reverently. “I want to see the stars. I want to see the other worlds. I should be dead. You should have killed me when you defeated me. What is left for me on this world? All I could do would be to abandon myself to the Terrors. Let me travel with you, serve you maybe. Let me learn to be more that a savage or an animal. Let me walk by your side. But take me. Please. I…beg of you.”

There is a long silence.

“I think, Draco Prime, I have underestimated you. Perhaps being the top of the food chain allowed your mind to expand. Hmh. There is room enough. Come then. I do not think it will impede me. And what about you, Wolfang? Will you come too?”
I recoil.
“A ‘no’, then. All right, Draco. Come in, sit down and shut up. It will take all my concentration to fly us through the distortions in this place’s atmosphere.”

The shuttle heals up with the two of them inside just as Backstop appears, running hard.
“Stop! Stop! You must not leave! You cannot leave! The king cannot leave!”
He flings out his arms, strength flowing out to hold the shuttle down.
“You must stop!”
There is a loud crack and the Teacher crumples. A dull thud echoes through the Temple. I pad to Backstop’s side. He is murmuring weakly.
“The king must not leave.” Over and over those five words. “The king must not leave.”
I see Jetfire swooping towards us. I hear a…another alien sound that tears at my ears. I half turn as the shuttle shakes and starts to lift away, falling up to the stars. Light, blazing, boiling light fills my eyes and a wall of unbearable heat hits my body…

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“OK…time to wake up!”
I open my eyes. Signalflare is looking down at me with a face half hidden behind a plate of metal-flesh. My limbs do not do as I want them to else I would have gutted him.
“I’m afraid I’ve introduced a benign virus into your body – it’ll keep your reactions sluggish for a while…well, not that long given how quickly your systems seem to repair but long enough to stop you going feral on us.”

Ironhide comes into sight, limping but alive. He looks at me in a way that makes me feel…uneasy.
“How long’s he gonna be down there?”
Signalflare shrugs.
“Far less time than you will be if you don’t get some rest. Ratchet will have my axles when he finds out I didn’t put you into a CR chamber. Wolfang’s systems work in a way that…well, doesn’t make sense but seems to have increased their efficiency to an almost preternatural degree and they started countering the virus the moment I introduced it. In other words: speak quickly.”

I struggle against the weakness but it is no use.
“Ah don’t really have anythin’ ta ask him anyway. Scorponok got away an’ it’s pretty clear where the Key is.” The red Autobot looks pointedly at the Throne. “So unless he can tell us how ta get it out…”
“I’ve already told you: it can’t be gotten out because I have every reason to believe that that chair is the Key.”
Signalflare takes on the aspect of the Teacher about to tell a tale. I recall that last instant before the heat.
“Where is Backstop?”
The blue being points to a slumped grey shape.
“I take it you mean this poor mech.”
“Yes. Is he alive?” My voice is slurred, as slow as my body.

“Oh, yes, though he is healing far slower than you. Is that normal?”
“No…he should heal as quick as I.”
“Hm. Well he isn’t. None of the burns or breaks are fatal but…well, he’ll be out for a while. Now where was I? Oh, yes. The Key is the chair. But that’s not the biggest problem. I’ve had time to go over the readings Evac’s mechs took of the Spatial Key’s effects and, frankly, in terms of energy output, this makes that look like a dud light bulb. It is supposed to be the Key of force and it certainly seems to be living up to its name. Those distortions in the gravity fields in this system? The Key’s work. Why we couldn’t get decent scanner readings? Because of this. Our communications going down? Down to the Key. And I think that’s why those who live here depend on sight, hearing, smell, touch and taste over everything else: those are less impeded by the colossal dent the mere presence of that thing makes in the fabric of space/time. It’s incredible! No wonder the peoples of this world are like they are: you try existing at a high level of technology on a world that is fundamentally unstable to begin with and where your own most prized possession wrecks communication, as well as no doubt feeding the instabilities!”

I do not think Ironhide shares his enthusiasm for these words.
“Fine, yeah, sure…look, ah get the picture and if it means the Deceps won’t be able to move it either, then great. All ah want to know is how Scorponok got here and where the frag he went.”
“Drat! You won’t know. Strongarm found the remains of a Decepticon escape pod in the swamp regions to the west. I don’t think there’s any real question of where it came from. The strange – well, frightening thing is that it’s in a complete mess. How anyone climbed out of it…”

“He climbed the Temple steps and defeated Draco Prime.” I may not be able to escape but I refuse to let them ramble on about things they do not comprehend. “He refused to let his wounds stop him. That is why he was fit to claim the Burning Throne.”
“I’m sure but given that the pod practically flattened itself on impact with the hardest part of said swamp he shouldn’t have been able to stand let alone fight.”
“But he did. And the flames rebuilt him. And he defeated you.”
Anger ripples through Ironhide but Signalflare just nods.
“Just another mystery to add to the pile. Along with why Scorponok went utterly berserk. That’s not the way he fights at all. Unless…unless he was reacting in the way the Key wanted him to do so.”
“Yer what?”
“I’ve had chance to study the Matrix and Optimus’ relationship with it quite a few times over the fast million vorns or so. As well as providing a massive power boost, it also influences the way he thinks. I mean, you’ve known him since before the war; you trained him. Was he as noble and inspiring as he is now?”
“Ah suppose not…and ah assume yer have a theory on that as well as everythin’ else.”
“Indeed so. I’m of the opinion – a quite popular opinion, I should add – that the Matrix exerts a subliminal influence over its holder, giving them vast stores of courage and nobility to draw on. It makes the Primes into who it ‘thinks’ they should be. Why shouldn’t this be the same? After all, they’re both Keys. Why shouldn’t this Throne alter the way its Prime thinks, bringing them round to a mindset suitable for this planet? I suspect that that’s another aspect of the energy it’s throwing out. The same way everyone feels that bit better around Optimus when he’s in a good mood only on a planetary scale as opposed to just a few paces. In fact, I doubt any of this planet’s Primes would notice the alteration. But someone from another world, ignited by something like the Matrix…well, you could expect drastic changed in their personality.”

“Except he didn’ exactly run off inta the jungle and start runnin’ with the pack. Wolfang said he didn’ want ta be king. An’ looks like he was right.”
“I was,” I hiss. I am ignored.
“Ah!” It seems nothing will put this Autobot off. “You’re forgetting the numerous enhancements Decepticon make to their cerebral cores. Designed to stop mental invasion and allow them to think faster. Who knows what might have happened. His personality might have split. Or parts of his mind might have started to be shunted in odd directions. Without examining him, we’ll never be sure.”

My legs are starting to move properly again. I will have to ensure that these two are distracted.
“Backstop shouted for them not to leave. He said the king must not leave. Do you know what he meant?”
“No. No I don’t. It’s possible that there’s some factor I’ve overlooked…perhaps the Prime has limiting effect on the Key’s power output, perhaps going out of range undoes whatever alterations he or she goes through when nearby. Basically, I need to do some more study – hey!”

I bound to two legs, dash past them and sprint to the steps. Only Ironhide give chase. As we descend, he gains on me until, just as I reach the ground, he over takes and stands in my path.

I aim my sword for his chest.
“Ah’m not gonna stop you.”
I hesitate.
“Ah just wanted ta apologise fer what’s happened. We’ll try ta set things right with you and yer people, take care of Backstop an’ put yer Temple back together. Heh, maybe we can find a way to fix things so you can get proper technology workin’ here.” He holds out a hand. “Ah didn’ mean ta insult yer in the forest earlier. Jus’ spent so long protecting innocents from Deceps ah’ve…well, ah’m jus’ tryin’ ta say that I do wanta learn about this place and you. So, yer welcome to come to us anytime…”

He trails off as I remain silent. No. No, this is not how life exists here. It is not a matter of me not understanding these aliens and what they bring. They are the ones who do not understand.
“I shall hunt as I have always done. Do what you want but do not get in my way again. I have tried to explain but your kind seems unable to see what is in front of it. I and all the others: we are unlike you and do not want you here. The hunt is all that matters in our world and that will always be so. My only interest in you is how far I can get from you and how soon you will go. And if we meet again – if I meet any of your Autobots again…” I shift and show all my teeth. “I will consider you as any other prey.”
“Well ah hope fer yer sake it doesn’t come ta that.”

Those are the last words I hear from him and with them spoken, he stands aside.

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The air is clear of strange smells. Nothing with smooth hide and lightning spears troubles the forest hush. I pad, four legged through the forest, eager for the hunt. Part of me wonders, ever so slightly, what the aliens will do now. Another part wonders where Shadowfang went. Not that his disappearing is in any way worrying. He often does so, leaving his territory unguarded. Probably saw something shiny in the caves of the Temple and got lost. No matter. Most of me is dedicated to tracing the fronds of scent to their source, so that my fangs may feel the breaking of flesh and…

I drop to my hunches, suddenly thoughtful. Now that the king is gone, I suppose the Throne is for the taking. Somehow I find myself unable to desire it. I must still be unsettled by the little I could comprehend from Signalflare’s gibbering. Besides, I could not hold it for long. Only Stormfront could. No doubt he will claim it soon.

But what of his companion. Doubledealer. A stranger. With smooth, sharp feathers. And a strange scent.

Another alien?

I continue on my way, uneasy. I am not mistaken. What does he intend? Is he like Scorponok, strong enough to become king? If so, why ally himself with Stormfront?

“Distraction.”

Enemy. Above. Scent. Alien. Doubledealer.

The black flighter is perched just above my head, where he wasn’t an instant before. I shy back.
“From the true course of events here. Just like these past two days, though that was not of my doing.” His beak splits into an ugly grin. “Not that I’m against claiming it to be mine, of course, or that it hasn’t worked out absolutely perfectly. Now: to business. What am I to do with you?”
I can say nothing. His eyes hold me where I am. The harsh voice fades to a soothing burr.
“That little daft pup is no danger to me and I was able to deal with your great and wise Teacher under the Autobot’s noses…but you? Your cunning, brighter than the average Animatronian, have had more than your fair share of contact with off-worlders and, most importantly, you’re curious about things that are actually important. In other words, you could be trouble.”

The beak snaps shunt. Doubledealer rises from the branch, wings opening wide. I still cannot move, even as his talons open and he falls at me.

“And I do not have time to deal with trouble.”

I feel no pain as he strikes me.

I feel no fear or anger or rage.

In fact, I feel nothing at all.







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