CHAPTER FOUR
The Alchemor, en route to Sigma VII
“I’m not sure if we ever thanked you for the rescue.”
“Hey, don’t mention it,” said Nickel. “We’re just doing what’s right.”
She and the Mini-Con racers that had been rescued from Swindle’s captivity were gathered in one of the cell blocks on the former prison ship Alchemor. Ever since falling into the possession of the Scavengers, it had since been repurposed into one of many rec rooms aboard the ship, serving as a hangout space for any stragglers that the Scavengers picked up during their journeys. This made it a perfect open space for the many, many Mini-Cons they rescued to stay until they found themselves a new home.
“You’re from Micron, aren’t you?” asked Zapmaster as he poured energon into his fuel port. “How did you escape from the Black Block Consortia?”
“I hid in Prion’s eye socket when the Consortia attacked and abducted everyone else,” Nickel replied. “I stayed there even after they had left and didn’t come out until… someone found me and gave me a new home.”
“Was it these Decepticons who found you?” Grid asked.
“Um….” Nickel bit her lip. “Something like that.”
“Well, you’re all in our debt,” said Zapmaster. “Have you guys managed to rescue any other Mini-Cons?”
“Yeah, Spacewarp rescued a whole bunch from Tebris Seven a few months ago. She took them to Cybertron so they could decide what to do with their lives; I’m sure once we’re done at Sigma Seven, we’ll stop by there next.”
“Sounds good,” said a yellow and black Mini-Con with a similar build as Grid and Zapmaster. “Though I think I’d rather go to Velocitron. From what I hear, the folks there are a lot more my style.”
Grid rolled his optics. “Yeah, right, Mirage. We both know that you just wanna see Backtrack again.”
“And Spiral and Oval! I loved those guys, too!”
Nickel frowned in confusion. “Wait, did you just call him ‘Mirage?’” she asked Grid. “Isn’t that the name of an Autobot?”
Mirage snorted. “Oh boy, this again….”
“We generally don’t concern ourselves over sharing names with Cybertronians,” Zapmaster explained. “They sure never cared about our affairs, so why should we about theirs?”
“That’s fair enough, I suppose,” Nickel admitted. “So long as you don’t share names with anyone else on the ship, we should all be fine.”
“Where is it we’re headed, again?” Grid asked. “Sigma Seven, you said?”
“Yeah. Apparently there’s some special device there that we need to get. Something called the Transwarp Blaster.”
The room suddenly went silent and every Mini-Con present stopped what they were doing to look at Nickel. She glanced awkwardly from one gawking face to the other before asking, “What?”
“Did you just say the Transwarp Blaster?” asked a blue and orange sports car Mini-Con.
“Yeah?” Nickel said nervously. “Why?”
“You don’t even know what it is, do you?”
“I mean, going by its name, I can wager a guess. Such as that it is a blaster powered by… transwarp stuff.”
“You’re pretty much bang on the money,” said Zapmaster. “But there’s something else about it that you and your Decepticon friends should probably know.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“It’s not just a weapon. It’s a living being.” Zapmaster sealed up his fuel port and set aside his energon cube. “Three of them, to be precise.”
* * *
“THE TRANSWARP BLASTER IS MADE OUT OF MINI-CONS?!”
“Not so loud,” Gutcruncher groused, clamping his hands over his audio receptors. “We’re all standing right next to you.”
Spacewarp ignored the green Decepticon as she whirled furiously on Swindle, her optics blazing. “Did you know about this?!”
Swindle held up his hands defensively. “No! I had no idea! Honestly! I swear on my mentor’s spark!”
“Coming from you, that doesn’t really mean much,” Krok muttered. He looked down at Nickel, who had just delivered this tidbit of information to him and the rest of what was now more or less Gigawatt’s crew. “Are you sure they’re being for real?”
“I’m just telling you what the other Mini-Cons told me,” Nickel said. “It would be strange for them to lie about something like that. Especially since it would mean they were all in on it.”
“I can believe it,” Spacewarp growled, still glowering at Swindle. “As cynical it may sound, I’ve seen enough to know how low bots are willing to go.”
“Uh, yeah,” Gutcruncher said uneasily. “Me, too.”
“All right, so let me just get this straight,” Trickdiamond said. “This Transwarp Blaster we’re after is made out of three Mini-Cons. Swindle’s client wants to buy it off him for lots and lots of credits. Which would make it robot trafficking, essentially.”
“It’s not trafficking if I don’t know it’s a living machine!” Swindle protested. “Now that I do know, the deal is off! I’m not—I’m not selling it to him anymore!”
“Then how are we going to get money?” asked Gutcruncher. “I’m not doing this scrap for free!”
“You will all be compensated once all is said and done,” Gigawatt said calmly, facing the Alchemor’s viewport.
“Oh yeah?” Gutcruncher snapped. “And just how much do you intend to pay us? More than a hundred trillion?”
“I would think that saving the universe from complete and utter collapse would be enough.”
Krok growled in frustration as he pushed past the others and stormed up to Gigawatt. “Look, can you at least explain to us what this ‘Crossover’ is all about? That Flyhigh guy that killed my friends said it was some sort of interdimensional event in a place called Axiom Nexus. Is any of that true?”
Gigawatt hesitated. “To a certain extent.”
“Are there any details he left out that we should know about?”
“Did he mention that it’s an auction?”
“An auction?” Krok scratched his helm. “No, I don’t believe so. What’s it an auction for?”
Gigawatt opened his mouth as if to answer but then stopped himself, seemingly having second thoughts. “Forget it,” he muttered. “I’ve probably said too much already.”
“I bet he’s not telling us ‘cos he hasn’t thought it up yet!” said Gutcruncher. “I’m telling you, guys, this whole thing’s a blasted scam. We should bail out now before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late,” said Trickdiamond. “We’re already nearing the Sigma system, and you can’t get any more remote than the Sigma system. We’ve got nowhere else to turn too.”
Gutcruncher narrowed his optics and his hand drifted towards a blaster holstered on his hip. “Then I guess this calls for a good old fashioned mutiny.”
“Now just wait a minute!” Swindle said, jumping in front of Gutcruncher. “Let’s just wait this out, yeah? I’m curious enough to see what this Gigawatt bot’s got in his arm compartment. Even if it’s a scam, maybe we can all learn a thing or two from him!”
Headlock rubbed his chin as he eyed Gigawatt skeptically. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask… whose side are you on anyway?”
Gigawatt slowly turned to look at him. “Pardon?”
“Are you an Autobot or a Decepticon?”
“Does it matter? The war’s over.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. So there’s no harm in telling us, right?”
Gigawatt was silent for a pressing moment. Then, he said, “I don’t do sides. I’m just a simple bot trying to make my way through the universe.”
“And trying to save it?” Krok asked with a raised optic ridge.
“That, too.”
“Still reeks of Autobot ideology,” Gutcruncher grunted. “I still say we—”
A beep sounded off at the console and Spacewarp pushed a lever at the ship’s controls, bringing the Alchemor out of hyperspace and into the orbit of a rocky world. “We’re here,” she announced to the others. “Sigma Seven.”
“All right then,” Krok said. “Let’s go get this Transwarp Blaster. And free the Mini-Cons, I guess. Everyone else is free to bail out or do whatever. Just know that if you try to take our ship, we will scrap you. End of story.”
Swindle grinned at him and gave him two thumbs up. “Sounds good to me!”
Gutcruncher exchanged glances with Trickdiamond and Headlock before rolling his optics. “Gah, I’ve got a bad feeling about this….”
Earth, another place and time
“Sorry we’re late, Professor. We had another run in with the Brotherhood.”
“That is quite all right, Scott. So long as you and the others are safe….”
Fulcrum could hear the voices coming from outside the lab that the organics had put him in. The space itself was rather cramped, even for a rather small K-Con like him. The furry blue human—the one called Logan had alternated between calling him Hank and Beast, the latter which seemed the most appropriate—was moving this way and that to look at computer screens, scratching his chin as he glanced from them to Fulcrum. As if he didn’t already feel uncomfortable enough in the presence of these disgusting organics, now he was being gawked at like some sort of lab experiment. Terrific.
While Beast continued to “examine” Fulcrum (or whatever it was he was doing), a group of other humans entered the lab. Leading them was an older squishy with no hair on his head, moving around in some sort of floating transport. Whether the transport was a part of his body or not, Fulcrum could not tell nor did he care. Accompanying the older human were others wearing gaudy blue and yellow outfits, with all sorts of gadgets adorning their bodies. One had a red visor covering their eyes, which Fulcrum supposed was sort of cool; another had red hair sprouting out from a tight headgear, which wasn’t cool; and then there was one who was just wearing civilian clothes and a long yellow jacket while blowing pink bubbles from their mouth, which was just weird.
As the newcomers gawked at Fulcrum, Beast excited hopped over to stand in front of them. “I’m glad you could all make it. Logan and I found this machine just outside X-Mansion grounds. He does not appear to be a Sentinel, from what I can gather. He is far too… intelligent to classify as one.”
“It’s good to know where I rank on your scale,” Fulcrum muttered.
“Maybe he’s a Sentinel who got reprogrammed,” suggested the visor-wearing human.
“And changed his color scheme,” said the bubble-blowing human. “Can’t say it’s an improvement, though.”
“I very much doubt that he’s a Sentinel,” said Beast. “In fact, I don’t believe he is of this Earth at all.”
“You mean he’s like Ultimate X-Spanse?” asked the red-haired woman.
“Possibly. I haven’t had the chance to actually examine X-Spanse more closely… partly because he won’t let me….”
“I’m sorry,” Fulcrum said, “but who exactly are you guys?”
“I am Professor Charles Xavier,” said the bald, transport-bound human. “Founder and headmaster of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You’ve already met Hank McCoy here, better known as Beast.”
“My name is Jean Grey,” said the red-haired woman. She gestured to the visor-wearing man. “This is my partner, Scott, though some call him Cyclops.”
“You can call me Jubilee,” said the bubble-blower.
“Wonderful,” Fulcrum muttered. “I guess you can call me Fulcrum, then. So, who is this… ‘Ultimate X-Spanse’ guy you’re talking about? And what kind of name is ‘Ultimate X-Spanse’ anyway?”
“Perhaps we should have you ask him yourself,” said Beast. He looked to Professor Xavier. “Shall we take him to the hangar?”
Xavier seemed to consider this for a moment. “Yes, perhaps we should. In any case, it should be more… spacious for him.”
“Huh. Thanks,” Fulcrum said. As disgusting as these organics were, at least they were considerate.
Who knows, he thought to himself. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
* * *
“This is really, really bad!” Misfire cried as the Tyrannosaurus rex tossed him up in the air with its mighty maw. As he fell back down, the dinosaur opened its mouth to await his descent only for Spinister to lunge and punch the monster in the face. Misfire then fell straight on top of him and the two Decepticons fell to the ground in a pile of limbs.
Judging by his internal clock, Misfire saw that they had been at this for close to an hour. Each time they got a hand up in their fight with the Tyrannosaurus, it wasted no time in knocking them down a peg or several. It was a constant tug-of-war between them, which was never going to end until one of them burnt out. And so far, the dinosaur was showing no sign of wearing down.
As the two Scavengers struggled to untangle themselves from each other, the Tyrannosaurus stomped towards them, growling lowly from its throat as it glowered at them with its tiny red eyes. After finally managing to untangle himself from Spinister, Misfire got to his feet and raised his fists up at the dinosaur.
“Look, fella, I’ve dealt with beasts like you before! Heck, I was even once friends with one! So don’t think for a moment that I don’t know how to handle myself against you!”
The dinosaur snorted and did something Misfire was not expecting it to do: it spoke. “You haven’t exactly been doing a good job of that.”
Misfire blinked as he stepped back in surprise. The dinosaur then swung its body around and struck him with its massive tail, sending him flying across the beach and towards the shore. As he landed face-first into the mud, he heard what sounded like metal clanging and clicking together, akin to the sound a Cybertronian would make when changing shape. Sure enough, as he pulled himself up and looked over his shoulder, standing where the Tyrannosaurus had been was a large mechanical being in red and brown armor plating. The dinosaur’s head now served as their right hand while its tail was attached to their left arm, unfurled to form a cannon.
“This has been fun,” the dinosaur-bot said, taking aim at Misfire and Spinister with her arm cannon. “But I think playtime is over now.”
Misfire looked to Spinister, who continued to lay where he was. Realizing that there was no escape, Misfire could do nothing but brace himself for the end.
As the tip of the dinosaur-bot’s arm cannon began to glow, something shot out of the forest behind her and struck her in the back. The dinobot let out a pained cry before collapsing face-first onto the ground and going still. Stepping out of the forest was a green and black bot who was covered in scratches and blast marks, walking with a slight limp as he trudged onto the beach while keeping a device in his hand pointed at the two Decepticons.
“I have no idea who you are,” the strange bot said, “but you two are coming with me.”
Well then, Misfire thought to himself. This is going to be a very strange day.
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