CHAPTER ONE
--Centauri I--
"Can we all agree that this was a huge mistake?"
Craning his head from where he hung upside down, Crankcase scowled at Misfire. "Only if we can all agree to kill you if we get out of this mess alive."
Misfire rolled his optics. "Sheesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the recharge slab."
"Actually, Misfire, I'd say Crankcase is justified in his attitude," Krok said, dangling behind Misfire with Fulcrum and Spinister. "Of all the times to botch up the universal greeting, you had to do it with a race of aliens that eat robots."
"I did not botch it up! They just don't respect my Pretendian accent."
"Accent's got nothing to do with it!" Crankcase snapped. "You don't put the 'weep' before the 'bah' and you most certainly don't put the 'ni ni' after the 'bong!'"
"What difference does it make?"
"It makes all the difference, you virus-ladden, slag-swimming--"
"Quiet, guys," Fulcrum hissed. "We've got company."
From the village that laid up ahead, a crowd of native Centaurians approached the wood-made contraption from which the five Scavengers were being hung by their feet. In the lead was a Centaurian draped in regal robes that covered him head-to-toe. Two servants trailed after him holding the edges of his cloak so it did not lose its pristine look to the trail of slime its wearer left behind.
As the slug-like aliens came to a stop, a Centaurian decked in armor slithered forward and held out a scroll. He said something in his race's native tongue before rolling it up and looking at the captured Decepticons.
"Cyber-tro-nians," he said in the Basic dialect, albeit badly enunciating the words. "As ah vee-oh-lation oof code ahk-crek-bahk oof dah Creeon Ah-kord, yoo arr to bee devoured as is arr hol-ee right."
"Um, I didn't quite catch all of that," Misfire said. "Anyone care to paraphrase?"
"We broke their law, so they're going to eat us," Krok said flatly.
"Ah, thank you."
The regal Centaurian came up to the five Scavengers and sprinkled each of them with some sort of green liquid. He then turned to the crowd and splayed his arms, shouting something in his people's tongue. They responded with cheers and hollers.
"Anyone care to translate that?" Misfire asked.
"I think they're ready to eat us," Fulcrum murmured.
"Ah, I see."
Fulcrum shot him a look. "You seem eerily calm about all this."
"That's because I've got everything under control."
As he said this, Misfire moved slightly so that Fulcrum could see what he was concealing in his bound hands, out of the Centaurians' sight: a handgun.
Fulcrum's optics dilated. If their deaths weren't already assured, they definitely were now.
The leader Centaurian then turned back to them and, in unison with the others, opened his mouth to reveal a frightening row of razor-sharp teeth. They started to approach the Scavengers, hunger in their eyes.
Seeing Misfire already having trouble with his gun, Fulcrum simply closed his optics and got ready for the end. A gunshot went off, brushing past his face. Then he heard a scream... although it didn't sound like either one of the Scavengers.
Opening one optic, Fulcrum saw that the leader Centaurian was the one howling a pain, a scorching wound in his chest. As the other Centaurians rushed to his aid, Fulcrum glanced at Misfire.
"Congrats. You actually managed to hit something."
"Er, that wasn't me," Misfire muttered.
Before Fulcrum knew it, he was on the ground, the rope around his legs having been sliced by a rotor blade. He then looked up to see Spinister freeing Misfire, Krok, and Crankcase from their entrapped positions.
"Spinister?" Fulcrum said incredulously. "How did you--?"
"You guys are total wimps," Spinister grunted. "All you had to do was slide or fold your hands away to get the rope off."
"Well, we don't all have the same transformation scheme," Krok said as he pulled his bindings off. "Now let's go before--"
A holler of rage interrupted him and the five Decepticons turned to see the armored Centaurian brandishing his spear, with a dozen others doing the same.
"Before that."
"And that, my friends, is why Adaptus gave us the transformation cog," Crankcase said as he converted to his van mode and drove off. Spinister and Misfire followed suit, leaving Krok and Fulcrum to run on foot.
"Of all the times to become a born-again monoformer," Krok muttered.
Fulcrum simply sighed wistfully. As far as he was concerned, today was just another day of being a Scavenger.
"Anyone care to translate that?" Misfire asked.
"I think they're ready to eat us," Fulcrum murmured.
"Ah, I see."
Fulcrum shot him a look. "You seem eerily calm about all this."
"That's because I've got everything under control."
As he said this, Misfire moved slightly so that Fulcrum could see what he was concealing in his bound hands, out of the Centaurians' sight: a handgun.
Fulcrum's optics dilated. If their deaths weren't already assured, they definitely were now.
The leader Centaurian then turned back to them and, in unison with the others, opened his mouth to reveal a frightening row of razor-sharp teeth. They started to approach the Scavengers, hunger in their eyes.
Seeing Misfire already having trouble with his gun, Fulcrum simply closed his optics and got ready for the end. A gunshot went off, brushing past his face. Then he heard a scream... although it didn't sound like either one of the Scavengers.
Opening one optic, Fulcrum saw that the leader Centaurian was the one howling a pain, a scorching wound in his chest. As the other Centaurians rushed to his aid, Fulcrum glanced at Misfire.
"Congrats. You actually managed to hit something."
"Er, that wasn't me," Misfire muttered.
Before Fulcrum knew it, he was on the ground, the rope around his legs having been sliced by a rotor blade. He then looked up to see Spinister freeing Misfire, Krok, and Crankcase from their entrapped positions.
"Spinister?" Fulcrum said incredulously. "How did you--?"
"You guys are total wimps," Spinister grunted. "All you had to do was slide or fold your hands away to get the rope off."
"Well, we don't all have the same transformation scheme," Krok said as he pulled his bindings off. "Now let's go before--"
A holler of rage interrupted him and the five Decepticons turned to see the armored Centaurian brandishing his spear, with a dozen others doing the same.
"Before that."
"And that, my friends, is why Adaptus gave us the transformation cog," Crankcase said as he converted to his van mode and drove off. Spinister and Misfire followed suit, leaving Krok and Fulcrum to run on foot.
"Of all the times to become a born-again monoformer," Krok muttered.
Fulcrum simply sighed wistfully. As far as he was concerned, today was just another day of being a Scavenger.
* * *
"I told you guys I had everything under control," Misfire said as soon as he and the others were back on their ship, the Weak Anthropic Principle.
"Misfire, you have a better chance at finding a cure for cybercrosis than you do at hitting the broad side of Broadside," Crankcase retorted. "The fact that Spinister could hit his target should say a lot."
"Well, somebody's cranky today," Misfire said with a scoff. "One day you'll be thanking me for saving your metal hide; mark my words."
"I'm gonna mark your forehead with a blaster if you don't--"
"Both of you, shut up!" Krok snapped, closing the ship's hatch behind him and Fulcrum. "Crankcase, get us the frag out of here!"
The former Triggercon quickly went for the cockpit and in seconds they were taking off, leaving a horde of angry Centaurians behind them.
Once they were out in the clear and jumping to lightspeed, Fulcrum dropped to the floor and slumped against the wall. "I think I busted a leg motor back there. I don't think I'll be able to run like that ever again."
"I'll search the navigation grid for any scrapyards in the sector," Krok said. "We're dangerously close to Galactic Council territory though. We'll have to tread carefully."
"Just remember to avoid Constancy at all costs," Fulcrum muttered. "Misfire probably earned us all death sentences when we last went there."
Misfire threw his arms up in the air. "So I got the munchies! Excuse me for being Cybertronian."
"Don't expect the Galactic Council to do so," Krok said. "They might just us it as justification for killing you."
Misfire grumbled to himself before planting himself down next to Fulcrum. While Krok left to study the navgrid and Spinister counted the rivets on the ceiling, Misfire decided to pass the time by pestering the skinnier Decepticon.
"Wanna see something cool?" he said three times until Fulcrum finally answered him with a sigh.
"The last time you showed me something 'cool', it was a Sharkticon that nearly bit my head off," he said bitterly.
"Don't worry, this won't bite; it's not even alive." From a compartment, Misfire drew out a transformation cog and presented it to Fulcrum.
"How is that cool?" Fulcrum asked. "It's just a t-cog."
Misfire grinned wickedly. "It may seem like that, but there's a lot more to it than meets the eye."
"I swear, if you throw it at me--"
"Relax, I wouldn't make it that obvious." Bringing out the gun he had earlier, Misfire held it up to the t-cog and, before Fulcrum's eyes, the gun morphed into a spanner wrench.
Fulcrum's mouth fell agape as he stared in awe. "What... where did you get that?"
"I found it while we were on Neutronia." Misfire suddenly lowered his voice, looking shifty-eyed. "Don't tell the others, though. This is our little secret, yeah?"
Fulcrum merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
The former Triggercon quickly went for the cockpit and in seconds they were taking off, leaving a horde of angry Centaurians behind them.
Once they were out in the clear and jumping to lightspeed, Fulcrum dropped to the floor and slumped against the wall. "I think I busted a leg motor back there. I don't think I'll be able to run like that ever again."
"I'll search the navigation grid for any scrapyards in the sector," Krok said. "We're dangerously close to Galactic Council territory though. We'll have to tread carefully."
"Just remember to avoid Constancy at all costs," Fulcrum muttered. "Misfire probably earned us all death sentences when we last went there."
Misfire threw his arms up in the air. "So I got the munchies! Excuse me for being Cybertronian."
"Don't expect the Galactic Council to do so," Krok said. "They might just us it as justification for killing you."
Misfire grumbled to himself before planting himself down next to Fulcrum. While Krok left to study the navgrid and Spinister counted the rivets on the ceiling, Misfire decided to pass the time by pestering the skinnier Decepticon.
"Wanna see something cool?" he said three times until Fulcrum finally answered him with a sigh.
"The last time you showed me something 'cool', it was a Sharkticon that nearly bit my head off," he said bitterly.
"Don't worry, this won't bite; it's not even alive." From a compartment, Misfire drew out a transformation cog and presented it to Fulcrum.
"How is that cool?" Fulcrum asked. "It's just a t-cog."
Misfire grinned wickedly. "It may seem like that, but there's a lot more to it than meets the eye."
"I swear, if you throw it at me--"
"Relax, I wouldn't make it that obvious." Bringing out the gun he had earlier, Misfire held it up to the t-cog and, before Fulcrum's eyes, the gun morphed into a spanner wrench.
Fulcrum's mouth fell agape as he stared in awe. "What... where did you get that?"
"I found it while we were on Neutronia." Misfire suddenly lowered his voice, looking shifty-eyed. "Don't tell the others, though. This is our little secret, yeah?"
Fulcrum merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
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