TRANSFORMERS REGENERATED
Interlude III: Tales
LESSON LEARNED
--Tsiehshi, 425 years ago (Cycle 9389)--
Hold still, beauty....
The brown-plated Autobot kept his gaze trained on the wiry creature that was his target. The long-limbed animal was presently enjoying itself by leaping from one tree to the next. Its eye seemed to be moving to the slab of metal he had placed there for it, but it had yet to make a move.
Outback gritted his dental plates. As a tracker and hunter, patience was one of his strongest and most important suits, but that didn't mean he couldn't feel a little anxiety. All that blasted wire-monkey had to do was jump down from the trees and get the metal.
After what felt like megacycles, the wire-monkey finally jumped down to inspect the metal. Aiming his rifle, Outback pulled the trigger and the gunshot went straight through its head. The noise was loud enough to startle some nearby razor-birds, which flew off without hesitation, but Outback hoped it didn't reach the ears of certain predators that dwelt on the planet. Saber-lions especially were rather vicious to unwanted visitors.
Moving over to the dead creature, Outback knelt down and started stripping it of organic matter, leaving behind nothing but its wired frame. Once he was done, he got back to his feet and morphed into his land cruiser form. The sun was already starting to set and he did not want to be here when the nocturnal blade-bats awoke from their slumber.
It wouldn't be nice for the rescue team to find only one Autobot.
* * *
The resting old mech turned his optical sensors back on at the sound of a roaring engine. Lifting himself up, the veteran Autobot saw a brown land cruiser tearing through the tendril-covered jungle, before braking to a halt near their camp. Transforming to robot mode, Outback produced the carcass of a wire-monkey, which still had some organic residue on its metal skeleton.
"Couldn't find any fuel," Outback said. "You can munch on this to converse energy."
Kup made a face. "I'd sooner go offline than eat something like that. You can have it."
Outback frowned. "You lost a lot of energon in the crash -- not to mention your left leg. If you don't consume something, then--"
"Lad, stop worryin' about me. I've taken worse than this. 'Sides, you're young and I'm old. Better you stay alive than me."
"Always so stubborn," Outback muttered, dropping the carcass at Kup's foot before setting himself on the ground. "I'm not going to let you die. I swear my spark on it."
"Who's the stubborn one now?" Kup said wryly. He tilted his head back and rested it against the hull of their downed ship, repurposed to serve as shelter. "You know, kid, you remind me of someone. Someone I knew back in the day."
"Here we go again," Outback grumbled. "Now you're just trying to change the subject."
"Pipe down, will ya'? If you hear me out, then I'll eat the wretched scrap. Deal?"
"Fine. Continue."
Kup rubbed his chin as he searched his memory. "Let's see... it was about... five thousand years ago? No, six? Yeah, six. During the age of Nova Prime."
"How can your memory bank go back that far?" Outback asked. "I can barely remember the past few decades, let alone a millennia."
"That's cos your young, impressionable mind has been corrupted by war. Everything starts to blur for you. Me, I'm already used to it all." Kup shifted slightly as he prepared to continue his tale. "Now, where was I? Six thousand years ago, right. Back when the Primal Vanguard was in its prime.
"This bot -- we called him the Rookie back then -- he was your typical young mech. He meant well, but was impulsive and reckless as Pit. Acted without thinking, know what I mean? But that didn't mean he wasn't brave; he'd willingly rush into danger to save a fellow bot, even if it was his own worst enemy. Brave and stupid, that's what he was.
"Anyway, it's the middle of the Destron Wars -- you've heard of the Destrons, right?"
"Heard of, yes, but don't expect me to ace a quiz on them," Outback said. "They were one of the Thirteen Tribes, weren't they?"
"They were, but while all the other tribes joined to form the Autobots, the Destrons had a piston to pick with Nova Prime. They didn't want to lose their identity, y'see."
"I see. Go on."
"It's the middle of the Destron Wars, and Delta Magnus is leading us to bring down the defense grid of a Destron outpost in Stanix. The Rookie's there, along with myself, Breakthrough, Tailpipe, Checkup, and... Crosswise? Was that his name? No, Crosscut, that was it."
"The liberator of Petrex?"
"No, this was a different Crosscut. More of a green-ish color. He was easily spooked, which was why Magnus had him wait outside with Tailpipe while the rest of us sneaked in through the back door. The guards the Destrons had placed there were a bit on the sleepy side.
"The plan was, once we were inside, to move through the base undetected wearing stealth paint Breakthrough had created for us. But when we stumbled across this room full of Destrons, plottin' and schemin' and scrap, the Rookie... well, let's just say his instinct told him somethin' opposite of what Magnus did."
"Don't tell me. He ran in."
Kup grunted. "Are you even surprised? Of course he ran in. He ran in, shootin' up the place, screamin' one of their names in anger. The 'trons were startled and caught unawares, givin' Delta enough time to improvise.
"He sent in Breakthrough first to provide the Rookie some cover fire and throw the Destrons off some more. Then, he had Checkup sneak through the crossfire and nab the security codes for the defense grid. While Delta helped the other two hold the 'trons off, Checkup and I went off and brought down the grid, after which we signaled our backup unit -- led by the one and only Thunderclash -- to move in."
"So far, it sounds like everything had gone to plan," Outback said.
"Ah, but I ain't finished, lad. When we got back, things had gotten from bad to worse. Delta and Breakthrough had been knocked out... and the Destrons had the Rookie at their mercy, his chestplate torn open and his t-cog in their hands."
"What did you do?"
"Nothin'. The 'trons spotted us and held us both at gunpoint. I thought for sure we were goners, that Thunderclash wasn't gonna make it in time."
"But he did, didn't he?" Outback said. "Because you're here right now."
Kup smirked. "Yer a sharp one. Yup, right when everything seemed lost, Thunderclash and his unit stormed in, along with Tailpipe and Crosscut, the 'trons got their exhaust pipes handed to 'em and we got the Rookie out alive. Unfortunately, Checkup was unable to properly reinstall his t-cog, leaving him as a monoformer."
"So what's the moral here?" Outback asked. "What has it got to do with you not eating the blasted wire-monkey?"
"The lesson here, lad, is to always trust your elders' word. You might think you know what's best for you or them, but more often than not, you're wrong. By disobeying Delta's orders and doing things his own way, the Rookie got his aft handed to him. After he got repaired, though, he decided the Primal Vanguard wasn't the ideal career for him and got involved in politics instead."
"So where is he now? Is he still alive?"
"Oh, very much so. By the time Guardian Prime was in charge, he had earned himself the title of Emirate and became head of the Science Division."
Outback's mouth fell agape. "Wait... you're telling me the Rookie was Emirate Xaaron? The Emirate Xaaron? And he was in the Primal Vanguard?"
Kup smirked. "And there's your second lesson: never assume you know everything about a 'bot just by lookin' at them."
He then bent forward and picked up the carcass, grinding it to pieces with his internal razors. Outback watched for a moment, noticing that the old mech was chuckling.
"What? What's so funny?"
Kup snickered as he put the metal back down. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell that tale."
"What do you mean?"
"I promised Xaaron I would never tell that story to anyone. I went ahead and told you it now just in case anything happened to us." Kup made another chortle as he resumed eating. "Even if we both make it out of this alive, I'm a dead bot."
For the first time today, Outback allowed himself a smile of his own. "Not on my watch, you're not."
