SHELTER FROM THE VOID

			By Raksha

		Moving the wastelands
		    over my eyes,
		Moving like the last phantom,
		Where across all the expanse of Earth
		     no living thing
		         rises to greet me....
				-- From "Dark Journey"


			I.

	From the vast and impossibly cold emptiness of interstellar 
space, she was drawn toward the fiery corona of the blazing yellow 
sun.  It was the only nearby star -- the others glittered in the distance 
like sparkling chips of ice, scattered upon the lightless expanse of the 
Universe.  But the sun ahead of her, that grew closer and larger as she 
approached, promised the overwhelming relief of light and warmth.  
Her wings, grown painful and stiff with the cold, seemed to beat a 
little easier at the thought.
	As she plunged toward the light she could feel the star's 
gravity field tugging at her, gently at first.  From much previous 
experience, she knew just exactly how far she could go ... to the point 
where the light was all that filled her field of vision, painfully bright; 
to the point where waves of scalding heat seemed to ripple on the 
fabric of space itself, searing away all the layers of ice that formed 
along the edges of her scales and within the plumes of her wings; to 
the point where she had to actively maintain her altitude above the 
star, lest its gravity well suck her downward into fiery oblivion.  She 
was still several million kilometers away from the star's surface, but 
that was entirely close enough.  The heat that washed over her was 
pure and tangible pleasure.
	She skimmed the "surface" of the sun for a while, but the 
warmth relaxed her and she soon tired of fighting against gravity.  
Once or twice in the past she had let her guard drop, and had been 
rapidly tugged downward nearly to the point of no return.  She'd had 
to fight to escape, with every bit of strength and determination she 
possessed; one time, she'd burned so much energy in the process that 
she'd had to practically drift through space, helpless, until chance had 
brought her to a planet with a suitable fuel-source.  She knew she 
would not be that lucky a second time.  Tilting her wings at a precise 
angle, she shot diagonally upward in such a way as to use the star's 
own gravity field as a slingshot, to fling her away from the sun and out 
into the darkness of space.  It was a technique that could propel her 
quite some distance into the next stage of her journey, and had taken 
much practice to perfect -- but then, she'd had a long time to practice 
it.
	This time, as she streaked away from the sun, she noticed a 
belt of broken rock and planetary debris that circled the yellow star in 
a thin ring.  It was not exactly a true solar system, and so lacked any 
large planets that would have caught her attention on the way in -- but 
now, after she had warmed up and could turn her attention to other 
things besides reaching the outer layers of the sun -- now she noticed 
these circling clumps of stone.  The largest of them could have passed 
for a small moon.  The other bits and pieces dwindled in size down to 
swirls of fine dust.
	Making a rapid decision, she curved around and turned her 
slingshot momentum back on itself, heading at great speed toward the 
largest of the debris fragments.  It had an atmosphere which shrouded 
the surface in a vague haze.  She penetrated the upper layers and 
plunged downward.  The ground came up under her quickly and she 
pulled up, skimming along just above the surface.  The orange stone 
that seemed to comprise most of the surface, was sculpted into fissures 
that expanded, on closer inspection, into vast ravines, interspersed 
with free-standing plateaus, which in turn expanded into vast stretches 
of unbroken flatlands.  The planetoid was sufficiently close to the sun 
that all the moisture had been baked out of the earth, and heat rose in 
visible ripples from the surface, as well as beating down from above.
	She had traveled a long way since the last star, and even 
longer since the last planet, and she knew she needed to take 
advantage of the chance to rest, to enjoy the pleasure of being heated 
to optimal temperature once again.  She slowed her incredibly rapid 
flight through the atmosphere, braking the slingshot effect with 
reversed wingbeats and an upward tilt of her body.  She had seen no 
sign of life on the planetoid's surface under her, so one place to land 
was as good as any; she chose the broken edge of a cliffside that 
looked appealing from the air, and glided down towards it.  Closing 
in, the imposing wall of stone seemed to rise to meet her, and she 
spiraled down along its edge, into the deep valley that stretched away 
from its base.  She drifted out of the shadows at the cliff's base, and 
came to a gentle landing on the hard, flat stone some distance beyond.  
Broken bits of the cliffside littered the area around her, but she sought 
out a flat expanse, and stretched out her coils on the sun-heated stone.
	It felt good to have support under her once again, to be still 
rather than in perpetual motion.  Luxuriously she stretched her coils, 
arranging her long body in an almost straight line.  She unfurled her 
wings and laid them flat against the ground to both sides of her, so 
that the sun struck their maximum surface area.  Without much 
conscious effort, she relaxed in the intoxicating heat.  This simple 
pleasure was such a contrast to the rigors of her journey that it did not 
take much, in unguarded moments, for exhaustion to overwhelm her.  
It happened more and more quickly these days.  Her species had not 
been meant to travel the stars, and much as she tried to deny it, her 
endurance was wearing thin.  But she knew that as soon as she had 
rested a little, she would be on her way again.  There was, in fact, no 
other option that she could see, but to keep going.  It was as though 
she was searching for something, but she didn't know what; there was 
no place for her anywhere, so she would just keep going.
	As always before shutting down to sleep, a disconnected 
series of images drifted through her mind -- the thousand worlds she 
had seen, and left behind -- the multiple alien species she had come 
across, had puzzled over or been repulsed by -- snatches of scenes from 
her homeworld, others of her kind -- as if those long-dead voices could 
speak to her again.  She didn't fight it, but drifted with it.  The sun 
beat down on her, and her optics lost focus.  She welcomed the 
oblivion of sleep as the voices from her past faded away to silence.

			* * *

	She woke with a start at a tremor of vibration that shuddered 
through the ground -- a soft tremor, from far away, but closing in 
rapidly.  Instinctively wary, she pulled her wings in close to her body 
and raised her head, looking around.  Her sharp vision caught a dust 
cloud rising in the distance, and below and within it the movement of 
multiple objects.  As they drew closer, she could see the glint of 
sunlight off metal, and an interweaving series of light-beams that 
seemed to dance between the moving metallic figures.
	Curiously she slithered forward among the broken pieces of 
cliffside.  The dust cloud with its occupants approached as though to 
meet her halfway.  She stopped just short of emerging into the open 
from the protection of the littered boulders, and focused in on the 
scene.
	From the current distance and angle, she could now see that 
the moving metallic objects were robotic beings of some sort, each 
with different colors.  The colorful beams of lights that danced 
between them made for an enchanting and slightly dazzling display.  
But she realized that this was no game, no display for beauty's sake; 
the colorful beams of light shot out from handheld objects that she had 
come to recognize, in her travels, as weapons.  The light-beams, she 
had learned, could be surprisingly destructive for something of such 
mysterious beauty.  Looking more closely, she could see that the 
robotic beings seemed definitely divided into two opposing groups -- 
one backing up and trying to cover its retreat, apparently protecting a 
bulky mobile machine between them -- and the other on the attack, 
pushing them backward.
	Whatever their struggle might be, she did find it a fascinating 
and beautiful display.  The actual conflicts of other beings did not 
concern her, but she would watch for a while, purely for the visual 
effect.
	The retreating group was being forced toward the cliffside, 
toward the point where the valley narrowed.  Having flown over it, she 
knew there was no way out, that the cliffs curved together and formed 
a dead end.  The retreaters did not seem to know this, however.  They 
were frantically trying to protect the wheeled, squarish device in their 
middle.  To that end, two of the largest robots, a silver one and a blue 
one, and a number of quite small ones, were trying to keep their 
opponents at bay, while two sets of three identical robots in different 
colors guided the rolling machine, and took occasional shots at the 
others.  As they were forced further and further towards the shadow of 
the cliffside, they seemed to realize that they were being backed into a 
trap, and redoubled their efforts.
	For a few moments it seemed to work -- the retreating group 
managed to hold its ground, just at the point where the two sides of the 
cliff started to narrow and converge towards each other.  Then the 
winning group began to change its tactics.  While most of them kept 
firing on the retreaters, a number of them began to aim their weapons 
at the cliffside, high above their opponents.
	Her sharp eyes picked out the fissures that began to crack 
along the upper edge of the cliff.  If the winning group continued to 
fire, a whole section of the cliff face would come loose and crash down 
on the others, surely destroying them.
	The retreaters were outnumbered, and at a disadvantage since 
they were trying not only to fight their opponents, but protect their 
piece of machinery as well.  Still, they continued to fight relentlessly 
with what could only be described as valor.  Noting this with a passing 
flicker of respect, she tensed involuntarily as she saw part of the 
cliffside begin to crumble.  Several of the retreaters had wings, and she 
assumed they could fly out of the trap -- but they were so intent on 
their enemies that they did not notice the danger they were in.
	For a moment, the insane impulse flashed through her mind, 
to warn them somehow.  But just as quickly she dismissed the thought.  
What were other creature's squabbles to her?  She would scour the 
Universe alone until the end of her days, remaining detached from all 
the beings she came across, and that was as it should be.  There could 
be no other fate for her.  Torn between the morbid desire to witness the 
battle's inevitable end and watch the cliff face crashing down, and 
simply turning away ... she drew back and began to turn away.
	Suddenly something caught the corner of her eye, a 
movement among the winning group that she recognized immediately.  
That type of movement, that size and shape, had been seared 
irrevocably into her mind.  Her head snapped around, teeth bared, as 
she focused in for a clearer look.  But there had been no mistake.  
There, between the legs of the much larger robots and slightly in the 
background, scurried the beings she hated most in all the galaxies -- 
beings that she hated with a relentless and driven fury that blinded her 
to all else.  Humans!
	Almost automatically she launched herself into action.  
Bringing her wings up, she shot into the air from behind the rocks that 
had hidden her, emitting a piercing shriek of fury that sliced through 
the hot, still air and echoed off the canyon walls.  Startled out of their 
battle, the two groups of robots spun to face her in utter amazement, 
but she totally ignored them.  She plunged down toward the winning 
group, writhing in the air as she sought the best angle to reach her 
prey, who were partially blocked by their robotic allies.  Her vision 
focused down to only those two small figures, who stared up at her in 
paralyzed fascination.  Her jaws gaped wider, ready to scoop both of 
them up at once and snap them in half.
	Her coils brushed the metal bodies of the robots as she 
streaked down between them, but they might as well have been part of 
the landscape; she was moving much too fast for them to react, and 
her senses were totally focused on the two humans.  Another instant 
and she would have them--
	They broke their paralysis and scattered, each one running in 
a different direction between the legs of the robots.  But she was a 
huntress, and was not so easily thrown off from her prey.  She made a 
snap decision and twisted toward the smaller one -- only to suddenly 
find one of the robots directly in her way.  Too late to stop or turn, she 
impacted and sunk all four of her poison fangs deep into the creature's 
crimson shoulder.  In an instinctive follow-up reaction, her coils flung 
themselves around his body, drawing tight.
	The robot fell back and screamed, a long-drawn, agonizing 
sound that exploded right next to her left audial sensor.  In an instant 
the others were around her, grabbing at her coils, wings, and jaws, 
shouting and trying to pull her loose.
	She snarled deep in her throat and drew her fangs out of the 
robot's shoulder, snapping her head from side to side to catch sight of 
the humans.  But they were gone, and some of the robots had changed 
form as well; some now looked like vehicles with wheels, while others 
milled around with their hand-held weapons.  With a series of snarls 
that rose in pitch until they were screams of fury, she flung her head in 
a semicircle to drive back the crowd of robots around her, and 
disentangled her wings from them.  Releasing the robot who had 
blundered into her way, she shot upward into the air, leaving her 
victim twitching spasmodically on the ground.  A number of bright 
light-beams lanced up at her, some of which struck her scales.  While 
she felt the impact, they were otherwise harmless and bounced off; 
though she did feel the one that grazed her wing-plumes.
	She circled rapidly and plunged down for another assault.  
Multiharmonic shrieks of hatred and fury burst from between her 
fangs as she frantically searched for her prey.  The robots had drawn 
together over their injured comrade, and the largest, another red one 
with blue highlights, tried determinedly to fix an aim on her with a 
powerful-looking weapon.  If the beam from *that* hit her wings, she 
knew it would cause considerable damage.
	Still she dodged and weaved in the air.  The humans could 
not have disappeared -- these robots were hiding them somehow.
	Suddenly a barrage of light-beams from a new angle flashed 
through the air.  The formerly retreating group emerged rapidly from 
the shadow of the cliffside, catching the others by surprise.  Some of 
them whirled to face this new assault, but they were disorganized now, 
and had lost their cohesiveness as well as their advantage.  The large 
red robot shouted something, and as one the group changed its form, 
becoming wheeled vehicles in a matter of instants.  One of them, a 
white, boxy-looking vehicle, extended a grappling arm and snagged 
his injured comrade, drawing the smaller robot into a hollow 
compartment inside his vehicle form.
	That was where the humans were, she realized!  Hidden in a 
similar such place, inside one of these robots!  Their engines revved 
and plumes of dust boiled into the air as they rapidly rolled away over 
the level plain.  The largest of their opponents, the silver robot, stood 
firing after them with a long barrel-shaped weapon that was attached 
to his right arm.
	None of this concerned her.  She tore off after the retreating 
vehicles, plunging down at them from the sky and trying to sink her 
teeth into them, but they twisted and turned away from her in their 
flight and she was barely able to graze one or two of them with her 
fangs.  Weapons emerged from hidden compartments in several of the 
medium-sized vehicles, and a tapestry of light beams converged on 
her.  In her single-minded attack she paid them little heed, until 
several beams scored her wings.  Breaking off and rising upward with 
screams of pain and frustration, she forced herself to circle back, 
winding her way through the light beams for another attack.  But more 
weapons had appeared, and there was no dodging all of them.
	One wing was damaged and it slowed her down.  The 
vehicles thundered across the plain and drew away from her.  She 
circled upward in a manic spiral, watching them go.  Her jaws gaped 
and she cried out, frustration and fury in the sound, and it reverberated 
from the barren cliffsides all around her.  She turned and turned in 
frantic circles in the brazen sky, lashing her tail.
	Finally there was no trace of the retreating robots and she 
calmed a little, having dissipated a lot of her anger in her wild flight.  
Slowly, gradually, she glided downwards in the general direction of 
the cliffsides where she had left the other group of robots behind.
	Why she went there, rather than simply moving back out into 
space, she was never certain.  Perhaps because they had been fighting 
a group that was allied to humans, and so she felt some vague stirring 
of kinship.  In any case she sailed over the narrowed spot in the cliff 
face, which would easily have become a tomb, and found that the 
remaining group of robots was now busy setting up camp.  The 
wheeled piece of machinery, which they had so jealously guarded, had 
unfolded into a strange and complicated-looking structure with many 
controls and lights, and several of the robots were working over it, 
expanding it further until it became a bank of metal that nearly 
towered over the largest of them.
	Three medium-sized robots, the ones with the wings, who 
were identical except for color, had taken up guard positions at the 
mouth of the canyon.  It was here that she landed, and coiled herself 
around one of the jagged boulders from which she could keep watch 
on the group's activities.  One of the winged ones, red-and-silver in 
color, shot her a suspicious glare and adjusted his weaponry into 
plainer view -- but as she made no threatening move, neither did he.  
She turned her attention away from the guards and watched the others, 
who worked at the machine.  The sun still beat down on her with its 
pleasant heat, and though she remained alert and watchful, her body 
relaxed gradually until she was very comfortable on her heated 
boulder, watching these odd beings that she had come across.

			* * *

	The sun had turned flame-red and shadows lay in dark, 
irregular bands across the landscape, when the strange machine began 
to growl to itself.  Three of the smallest robots, these identical in every 
way including color, tended to it busily, while the largest of the robots, 
the silver one, stood over them with folded arms and watched intently.
	She felt the faint, mildly pleasant vibration in the ground 
from whatever the machine was doing.  She watched, intrigued.
	As best she could see, the machine seemed to push long 
probes or tubes out from its lower edges, and force them downward 
into the ground.  Some dust spewed up from around the probes as the 
upper layers of stone cracked at the entry points.  Lights began to flash 
rhythmically on some of the instrument panels along the sides.
	"That's far enough," said the silver robot, in a voice like 
gravel grinding against itself.  "We're tapped in."
	The group of robots, even the winged sentries, abandoned 
their positions and gathered round.  The sound of the machine 
changed, and suddenly a small glowing-pink cube appeared in one of 
the openings in its side.  Exclamations of relief and pleasure went up 
from the assembled group.  One stepped forward and tried to reach for 
the cube, but the silver one gestured him away with a warning flicker 
of his scarlet eye-lenses.  He reached for the cube himself, held it up in 
the fading light and examined it, until he was apparently satisfied.  A 
new, identical cube appeared in its place in the slot at the side of the 
machine.
	All afternoon she'd listened to snatches of the creatures' 
conversations, picking up words, meanings, grammar, very quickly as 
was the manner of her kind, and by now she had a reasonable grasp on 
the language.  Despite that, the words meant little to her when the 
silver one handed the first cube to the blue robot beside him and said, 
"A pity the Autobots have damaged warriors to attend to, or they 
might be able to share in the wealth!  This subterranean sea of fossil 
fuel so close to the surface, will provide us with just the energy we 
need to complete the trip to Cybertron."
	The others around him laughed appreciatively, and passed the 
small glowing cubes to each other as they emerged.  There seemed to 
be a sense of triumph and relief among the group.  Whatever the 
substance was, it was important to them, and for a while, they had 
almost been prevented from obtaining it.
	A moment later she had a better idea of what the glowing 
stuff was, for the robots lifted the cubes to their mouths and drank the 
purplish-pink liquid with obvious relish.  Food, then.
	She edged closer, aware suddenly that she badly needed to 
refuel.  There had been a time when she would have refused any food 
other than living prey, but that was long ago, and the Universe was a 
different place now.  She'd learned to do many things that were against 
her nature, and would perhaps learn many more.
	The smaller robots were starting to stack the glowing cubes 
into piles, as they emerged at a steady pace from the rumbling 
machine.  The silver one sent the three winged ones back to their posts 
as sentries, and drew back to a spot where he could sit against the 
cliffside and oversee the work.
	The large blue robot moved to join him.  "Megatron," he 
addressed the silver one, "what will we do about this fuel source?  We 
don't have the resources to defend it, and we cannot let it fall into 
Autobot hands."
	She edged a bit closer at the sound of the blue robot's voice, 
for this was the first time she had heard it clearly.  It was a deep, 
resonant sound, almost a monotone, but its harmonics struck some 
chord deep inside her and she found it immensely appealing.  There 
was something almost ... comforting ... about the sound, and she had 
not known comfort in a vast, cold eternity.  If she could just lie coiled 
here a while longer and listen to that sound, that voice, she would be 
happy at least for a short while.
	"I know," the one called Megatron replied to his companion's 
question.
	She decided, on re-examination, that she liked his voice too, 
the gravely texture of the sound.  But she wished the blue one would 
keep talking.....
	Instead Megatron continued, "We'll be able to gather just 
enough fuel to power up the ship.  It's a waste, I know, but we've got to 
destroy the sea on the way out.  By the time we could make it back to 
Cybertron and return with an attack force, the Autobots would have 
claimed it."
	"I do not believe we could spare an attack force at this point 
in time anyway," the blue one observed.
	Megatron glanced at him sharply for a moment, then sighed.  
"Yes, I suppose you're right.  The damn Autobots are too close to the 
borders of Polyhex for my liking these days.  They know we're running 
low on resources, and they're trying to take advantage of it.  But we 
won't let them, Soundwave."  He gestured at the humming machine, 
spitting out its small pink cubes.  "We won't curl up and die like they 
want us to!"
	*Soundwave*, she thought.  That was the blue one's name.  
The substance of the conversation was irrelevant to her, but she would 
remember that name.  It was appropriate, somehow.
	"And the first thing we do, when we get home," Megatron 
muttered to Soundwave more quietly, "is fix the blasted space bridge.  
Look at us, reduced to bouncing around the galaxy in outdated 
spacecraft..."  He gestured disgustedly in the general direction of the 
other robots.
	"All things will fall into place with time, Megatron," 
Soundwave replied calmly.  "We've had difficult times in the war 
before."
	Megatron said nothing, but after a moment he rose abruptly 
and went to his machine, somewhat impatiently displacing the smaller 
robots, to take over its operation himself.
	She could see a pile of cubes growing not far from where 
Soundwave sat and watched.  Slowly, very slowly, she uncoiled herself 
completely from her boulder and edged closer.  Her metallic scales 
made no sound against the smooth hot stone under her, but suddenly 
Soundwave turned his head and looked right at her, as though he had 
heard something.  She froze, staring at him with a sudden wary 
suspicion.  She knew nothing about these creatures.  How would this 
one react to her?
	Soundwave held her gaze for a long moment.  It looked as 
though the light in his single red eyeband intensified just for an 
instant.  Then without a word he rose and picked up one of the pink 
cubes, tossing it lightly in her direction so that it landed directly in 
front of her muzzle.
	It smelled of fuel, but artificial somehow -- processed.  
Cautious despite her hunger, she touched the edge of the cube with her 
teeth.  The edge gave way to the sharp tips of her fangs, and a trickle 
of glowing pink liquid seeped out.  She lapped at it, slowly at first -- 
then eagerly bit into the side of the cube to tear away a whole edge.  
Greedily she drank the glowing liquid, not letting any of it go to waste 
by dripping to the rocks below.  To her amazement the transparent 
sides of the cube dissolved with a slight tingle in the air, once the 
contents had been emptied.
	She drew back from this, coiling her neck into a defensive 
"s"-shape -- but since no damage had been done she edged her head 
forward again, peering hungrily at the disorderly pile of pink cubes.
	Soundwave tossed her another, slightly larger.  She fell upon 
it instantly.
	"Hey!" came a high-pitched and indignant voice.  The red-
and-silver winged robot, who had glared at her so suspiciously earlier, 
stalked over to Soundwave and drew himself up self-importantly.  
"What do you think you're doing, feeding some wild animal with our 
hard-won energon?  Are we humans at the zoo, tossing peanuts to the 
elephants, or something?"
	She drew back into her defensive coil, leaving the half-
emptied cube halfway between her and the two robots.  Instinctively 
she bared her fangs at the hostile, sarcastic tone of the red-and-silver 
robot, though she had understood the word "humans" too, and that was 
part of her reaction.
	Almost immediately Megatron joined them.  "Starscream," he 
demanded of the winged robot, "what's the problem?"
	"The *problem*," the red-and-silver one said, glaring, "is 
that *Soundwave*--" he said the name with palpable contempt -- "is 
throwing away our energon to this  -- this--"
	"Plumed Serpent," Soundwave filled in matter-of-factly, when 
Starscream seemed unable to come up with a fitting insult.
	She drew her coils together reflexively in surprise.  How 
could Soundwave possibly know what her species called itself?
	"Without her help, we might not have any energon at all," 
Soundwave stated.  "If she had not attacked the Autobots when she 
did, we would not have had the chance to catch them off guard.  
Surely we can spare two energon cubes in return?"  Here he looked 
expectantly at Megatron.
	"What a bunch of garbage!" Starscream retorted.  "You're 
assigning conscious motives to some native beast that was acting on 
instinct ... probably didn't like Sideswipe's red color, or something--"
	"In that case I'd be cautious if I were you," Megatron said 
with a smirk and a pointed look at Starscream's bright-red body and 
wing-stripes.  "Maybe she doesn't like your red color!"
	Megatron laughed at the look of startled realization that 
crossed Starscream's face.  He swallowed whatever argumentative 
reply had been on his tongue, and took a hasty step back.  "How do 
you know it's a 'she', anyway?" he demanded, but less stridently, in an 
attempt to regain some of his bravado.
	Soundwave looked at him with utter composure.  
"Starscream," he said, very patiently, as though he'd explained it a 
thousand times, "I am a telepath."
	"Fine, fine," Starscream muttered, glaring daggers at all of 
them, "but you still shouldn't be throwing away our energon."
	Megatron considered this thoughtfully for a moment, and 
then said languidly, "Oh ... I think we can spare two cubes."
	Starscream's eyes flashed bright.  "You're just saying that to 
side with *him*!" he fumed with an indignant gesture at Soundwave.  
"You would have been all over him for it, if *I* hadn't said anything 
first!  You--"
	"*Starscream*!" Megatron's voice snapped out in a command 
tone, all trace of amusement or relaxation gone, and Starscream jolted 
involuntarily to a stance of attention.  "My decisions are final.  Now, 
get back to your guard post!"
	Starscream's eyes were huge and bright.  "As you command," 
he managed, and scurried hastily back to his post.
	Megatron took in the scene with a satisfied, imperious sweep 
of his eyes:  the half-drained energon cube on the ground, Soundwave, 
their alien visitor.   "Soundwave, you're with me," he ordered then, 
and strode back towards the churning machine, the blue robot 
following wordlessly at his side.
	The remains of the energon cube gleamed softly in the 
twilight.  With a last cautious glance in Starscream's direction, she 
pushed forward over the still-warm rocks, and drained the rest of the 
nourishing fuel.

			* * *

	The sun was not yet up, but the horizon had turned from 
black to gray, when the three winged robots began their relay-flights to 
transport the gathered fuel.  They changed shape into sleek skycraft 
and their cockpits were filled with the glowing pink cubes, before they 
streaked away towards their spaceship somewhere in the distance.  
Only one, at most two, would be underway at any one time; Megatron 
wanted the others present to guard the remaining fuel against possible 
attack.
	The first sliver of sunlight had pushed its way up over the 
orange horizon, when the anticipated attack did in fact begin.  It was a 
movement in the distance that first caught her eye -- a swirl of dust in 
the face of the rising light, though the vehicles were still too far away 
for any sound to carry.  But she snapped her head towards the 
movement, growling low in her throat.
	One of the winged robots, a light blue one who had just come 
back from a transport mission, followed the direction of her gaze.  For 
a long moment he saw nothing, his vision not as sharp as hers.  But 
finally he saw the column of dust billowing upward, tiny in the 
distance.  "Megatron!  Autobots!" he shouted, running back towards 
the others and their strange mining machine.
	By this time she heard the low rumble of engines from the 
approaching vehicles, though they were still too far away to cause her 
any real concern.
	The camp behind her felt otherwise, however.  Megatron 
snapped a series of orders, and Starscream transformed to his aircraft 
mode, his cockpit springing open.  The three identical small robots, 
and two smaller-yet robots with the same design but different colors, 
hurried to load the remaining energon cubes into Starscream's open 
cockpit.  Megatron and Soundwave, meanwhile, started to type 
commands into a control panel of their mining machine which they 
had previously ignored.
	"What are you doing?" Starscream demanded from his 
vehicle mode, as more cubes were loaded into him.
	Without looking up, Megatron replied, "We can't let the 
Autobots claim this energy source for themselves.  It'll have to be 
destroyed.  I'm setting the conversion machine to direct several 
concentrated depth charges to points throughout the underground lake 
of fuel.  The whole thing's going to blow."
	"By the time you get that programmed, the Autobots will be 
using us for target practice!" Starscream exclaimed, sounding 
incredulous and a bit panicky.
	"Just go, and get the energon to safety," Megatron told him.  
"The rest of us will stay as long as we can."
	Starscream's cockpit snapped shut, and he roared away into 
the sky.
	"We should follow," Soundwave suggested, sparing a glance 
at the group of Autobots that rumbled toward them over the level plain 
of rock.  They were close enough now that individual vehicles could be 
distinguished.  "We will not be able to set the explosives in time."
	"Not yet," Megatron insisted.  "All I need is another 
minute...."
	"We don't *have* a minute," the other winged robot, the 
black one, muttered under his breath, readying his weapons, and 
poised nervously to meet the onrushing Autobots.  The light-blue robot 
of identical design moved up beside him, and the group of smaller 
ones took up positions to both sides.
	From her place on a flattened boulder close by, she took in the 
scene:  their badly-outnumbered group, with Megatron and Soundwave 
working frantically over the controls of their machine; the onrushing 
Autobots and the ominous rumble of their engines....  "I'll hold them 
off," she decided spontaneously, drawing her coils up under her and 
spreading her wings.
	Megatron and Soundwave, despite the need for haste, looked 
up as one at her words.  They had not expected her to speak, let alone 
to offer aid.  She launched herself into the air with a piercing battle 
shriek and plunged toward the Autobots that streamed out of the harsh 
glare of the rising sun.
	It took Megatron only a fraction of an instant to make use of 
the situation.  "Skywarp, Thundercracker, go with her," he 
commanded, and turned quickly back to his work.
	The two flyers transformed and tore upward into the sky, then 
angled downward toward their enemies, spewing laser fire.
	She had meanwhile met the front-runners of the approaching 
group head-on, flinging herself at the large red vehicle in the lead and 
turning aside at the last possible moment to avoid collision.  The red 
front-runner swerved aside as well, his huge trailer skidding forward 
and his tires squealing and throwing up great clouds of orange dust.  
She dove and dodged and twisted among the others, darting so low 
that her wingtips brushed the ground, forcing the Autobots to skid into 
turns and even complete stops.  As if on cue the whole group of them 
transformed to biped modes, suddenly holding weaponry such as she 
had seen the day before.
	She flew in twisting spirals just above their heads, drawing 
and yet avoiding their fire, snapping at them randomly right and left 
so that they jerked back in horror to avoid her long poison fangs.  The 
two flyers Skywarp and Thundercracker had by now caught up with 
her, and were strafing the group with nearly continuous twin streams 
of bright laser fire.
	The biggest red one and a few of the others, however, had 
gotten wise to the delay-tactic and transformed to vehicle modes again, 
starting toward their remaining enemies and leaving the others to deal 
with the three skyborne attackers.
	Seeing this she broke off from the others and chased down the 
huge red vehicle with its trailer, darting dangerously close in front of 
him -- but he ignored her and kept on going so that she hastily had to 
get out of his way.  She cried out in anger, a high-pitched rattling 
sound that deepened to a growl.  She flung herself through the air after 
the front-runner again, though she had no real hope of stopping him.
	Up ahead, she suddenly saw Megatron and Soundwave take to 
the air.  They were followed almost immediately by the group of 
smaller robots who were firing ineffectually down on the Autobots as 
they flew.
	Megatron ignored the Autobots completely and turned in the 
air, aiming the long black cannon on his arm toward what had been 
his mining machine.  A torrent of light and a roaring sound erupted 
from the barrel and blew the machine to smoldering wreckage.
	The big red Autobot skidded to a stop right in front of it and 
transformed to biped mode, leveling his own heavy artillery at 
Megatron and his group, who were hurriedly retreating.
	She plunged down toward the red Autobot, knocking her tail 
heavily against his gun arm and beating her wings about his face.  The 
shot skittered off to the side and struck a distant cliff-face, loosening 
an outcrop of stone that sagged down the cliffside with an ominous 
rumble.
	The big Autobot grabbed at her, but she evaded him, spiraling 
upward into the sky.  Looking around hurriedly, she saw Skywarp and 
Thundercracker taking off into the distance after their rapidly receding 
companions.  With laser fire arcing toward her from the robots below, 
she bolted off after them.
	The ground sped by below her and suddenly dropped away 
into a jagged canyon a great distance across, which seemed to stretch 
to both horizons in its lengthwise dimensions.  Below, partially hidden 
in the shadow of an overhanging rock-face, was a somewhat battered-
looking starcraft.  Megatron led his group toward it.  A hatch was 
opening in the side, and two other winged robots could be seen in the 
dim interior.  They stepped aside as the others flew towards them and 
disappeared one-by-one into the dark hatch.
	Skywarp and Thundercracker were the last to enter, 
transforming to biped modes just before landing.  Close behind them, 
she veered off an instant before she would have shot through the hatch 
after them.  Drawing away from the ship, she circled in the air just 
outside it.
	The hatch was still open, though the low thunder of the 
engines began to rise from around the ship.
	Thundercracker stuck his head back out from the dim interior 
of the ship, staring up at her.  "Are you coming?" he shouted finally.  
"This whole continent's going to go up!"
	She twirled agitated circles in the air.  The metallic hatch in 
the side of the ship looked like a trap about to spring shut.  The rising 
rumble of the engines unnerved her.  Half a dozen times she turned 
away, and then back, as Thundercracker gestured to her urgently.
	Something had been said earlier, something about a massive 
impending explosion ... it didn't make much sense to her.  But some 
danger-signal hammered at her mind and screamed along her 
neurocircuits as she hovered in the sky, her tail twisting and coiling in 
a panic of indecision.
	The ship looked alien and unsafe, something totally foreign to 
her previous experiences.  Yet, if Soundwave and Megatron and the 
others could enter without problems, surely she could do the same?  
She bared her fangs and flung her head from side to side, hissing, 
trying to dispel her uncertainties.
	The hatch was closing.  She could see, but not hear over the 
increasing roar of the engines, Thundercracker arguing with Skywarp, 
one undoubtedly needing to close the hatch for liftoff, and the other 
wanting to keep it open just a bit longer.  The gaping maw of darkness 
in the side of the vessel closed steadily into a crescent-shaped cleft, 
and finally a sliver--
	With a desperate burst of speed she shot forward and slipped 
in between the edge of the hatch and the side of the ship, an instant 
before the entranceway clanged shut, catching one of her wing-
feathers at the tip so that it came loose and hung bizarrely from the 
wall above her.  The ship lurched and edged outward onto the open 
floor of the canyon, tilting skyward for liftoff.

			* * *

	She landed rather abruptly on the metal floor just inside the 
entrance hatch, and folded her wings in the limited space around her.  
Coiling up into a compact series of loops, she held absolutely still as 
the ship rattled and shook around her, pulling away from the minimal 
gravity of the planetoid toward the void of deep space.  She had made 
that journey many times, of course -- but never within a starship.  Her 
fuel pump hammered inside her.  She resisted the impulse to plunge 
for one of the transparent starports that showed the light blue of the 
planetoid's sky as it faded quickly to star-flecked black.
	Skywarp and Thundercracker had sat down against the wall 
nearby to ride out the launch, and they did not seem concerned.  
Perhaps all was as it should be.  She relaxed a bit as the ship eased 
into a smooth ride, after leaving the atmosphere behind.  
Thundercracker and Skywarp stood, looked down at her.
	"You got here just in time," Skywarp remarked.  "That lake of 
fuel's going to go up any minute!"  He grinned at the thought, stepping 
over to the nearest starport.  "Bet we can see it from here," he 
remarked to Thundercracker.
	She pulled her wings in close and began to relax some of her 
molecular structure, rising upward towards her biped form, as she had 
not done in an unimaginably long time.  She'd always been in serpent 
mode, flying, constantly flying--
	Thundercracker, seeing her movement out of the corner of his 
optic, whirled toward her and gaped in amazement.  Wordlessly he 
prodded at Skywarp to get his attention, as the black flyer was intently 
staring out the viewport.
	"What?" Skywarp demanded irritably, turning -- and his 
expression changed to one of astonishment that mirrored 
Thundercracker's.
	She tilted her head, puzzled at their reaction.  These creatures 
had two modes just as she did -- a biped and a winged mode, just as 
she did -- so why were they so utterly amazed?
	"Do -- do that again," Thundercracker urged.
	"Do what?" she asked.  She was nearly as tall as he in her 
biped mode, and she looked him directly in the optics, confused.
	"Change.  Change your form," Thundercracker said, 
watching her hopefully.
	She shrugged and melted back into her serpent mode, her 
body lengthening and her wings unfurling as she sank back toward the 
deck; then gathered herself and rose again, her wings folding inward 
and her limbs re-emerging, her armored carapace expanding to cover 
her chest and torso.  She looked at the two flyers matter-of-factly.  
What of it? she wondered silently.
	"Amazing!" Skywarp breathed.  "It's like you just -- 
*liquefy*, and change!"
	"I suppose so," she said, as that was true of at least the outer 
layers of her body, though the inner layers did not lose their molecular 
cohesion.
	Outside the ship, a bright flare of light went up in the 
distance, very obvious against the blackness of surrounding space.  
Skywarp and Thundercracker spun toward the viewport.
	"The explosion!" Skywarp exclaimed.  "Look, you can still 
see the flames shooting up through the atmosphere...."
	"You don't suppose the Autobots were still around when it 
went up?" Thundercracker mused.
	"You don't really think we'd get that lucky, do you?" Skywarp 
replied.
	She slipped away from them silently while their backs were 
turned, tired of being gawked at and unsure of what she was doing 
here in the first place.

			* * *

	She prowled the corridors of the ship, touching the smooth 
walls with puzzlement and some revulsion.  They were like cave-
tunnels, only straight and angular.  She'd seen countless starships, of 
course, and as many cultures with their houses and buildings -- but 
always from the outside.  She'd never had the slightest desire to go in.  
It made her a little bit nervous to be here now, in fact.  But, if she 
could think of it as being like a cave, only smooth -- that would help.
	She was moving in a search pattern, she realized, like 
hunting -- hunting for something familiar.  Nothing was familiar 
anymore in the vastness of the Universe, she thought -- she *always* 
felt like this nowadays, always searching for something familiar that 
she would never again find, always wondering where she was and why 
she was there and what possible danger she would have to face next -- 
endlessly drifting through the void because there was nothing else for 
her to do except keep going--
	Light footsteps in a cross-corridor up ahead alerted her, and 
she drew back into the shadows.  The ship was dimly lit and it was 
easy to remain unseen.  A form she had never seen before, passed in 
front of her through the patch of light up ahead, and was gone again.  
It was an animal form, a quadruped that reached perhaps a little 
higher than her knees, pitch-black with alert, glowing red eyes.  He 
moved with almost complete silence, seemed very at home here.
	Quietly, trying to still the tapping of her claws on the metal 
floor, she slipped out of the shadows and followed him.  The predator -
- for that was what he was; she recognized one of her own when she 
saw it -- turned inward toward what looked to be a solid wall, and a 
doorway slid open to let him pass.  Hurriedly she darted in after him 
before the entrance could slide shut again.
	The pounding of the ship's engines was louder and deeper in 
here -- a large, elongated room partially dimmed to shadow, with great 
pipes and conduits running the length of the ceiling and imbedded in 
the walls and floor.  Up ahead, where the tangle of pipes and 
machinery seemed to become its most complex, a bright circle of 
yellow light dispelled the dimness.  The glistening black predator 
made for this light and leapt easily up onto one of the largest pipes 
that rose just above the floor, looking around expectantly.
	There was a robot partially hidden by an interwoven column 
of machinery.  When he stepped out into the light, she could see that it 
was Soundwave.  Inexplicably she smiled -- as though she'd found 
something familiar after all.
	She edged closer, as Soundwave stepped forward and stroked 
the black animal's head, then opened a large hatch in his chest.  The 
animal leapt up and folded his legs, head, and tail inward, taking on a 
squarish shape that slid without a sound into Soundwave's chest, 
which closed securely behind him.
	For a moment she was taken aback.  These creatures were 
duomorphs, yes, but they had a far different method of changing 
shape, and perhaps far different reasons.  Their transformations looked 
as strange to her, she realized, as *her* transformation must have 
looked to Thundercracker and Skywarp.
	Slowly, almost hesitantly, she walked out from between the 
shadowy tangle of pipeworks and into the circle of light.
	Soundwave did not seem at all surprised to see her.  "So, you 
have another form after all," he remarked, as though he'd been fully 
expecting an alien reptilian biped to stroll out of the shadows and join 
him.
	She nodded, then looked around more closely.  "What is this 
place?" she asked.
	"A very old ship," Soundwave said, with what sounded a bit 
like a sigh, though with his unique voice-synthesizer, she couldn't be 
sure.  "This is the main engineering center -- or what passes for it.  
Since there are no engineers on board, it falls to me to keep us together 
until we reach Cybertron."  He picked up one of the tools that had been 
lying around, opened a panel in front of him, and started to examine 
the interior.
	She leapt up onto the large pipe, as she had seen the black 
predator do, then sat and drew her legs up against her, coiling her tail 
lightly around them.  "What is 'Cybertron'?" she asked.
	"Cybertron is our homeworld," Soundwave replied, without 
looking up from his work.  "We, the Decepticons, and our enemies, the 
Autobots, have been fighting for its possession since as long as any of 
us can remember.  Sometimes the war goes well for us, and 
sometimes---"  He gestured significantly at the clunky and presumably 
out-dated equipment that surrounded him.  "But of course," he added, 
"that should be no concern of yours."
	She tilted her head thoughtfully at this.  "Autobots..." she said 
the word slowly, "have human allies."
	Soundwave looked at her quizzically.  "Yes," he replied.  
When she said nothing further on the subject, he returned his attention 
to his work.
	She watched him for a while, for some reason feeling 
comfortable in his presence, as strange and alien as this place might 
be.  "What will we do when we reach Cybertron?" she asked presently.
	Soundwave looked up from his equipment again, meeting her 
eyes.  "You should be gone long before then.  You don't want to get 
caught up in our war.  You are capable of space flight?"
	"Yes...." she replied, puzzled.  Was she *ever* capable of 
space flight, if only he knew--!
	"Then we will find an airlock later, and I'll open it for you, 
and you can be on your way."
	For some reason she felt a pang of rejection at this.  The long 
plumes on her head and neck bristled in protest.  "On my way," she 
repeated, a cold anger rising inside her.  "On my way to *where*?"
	Soundwave remained imperturbable.  "Surely you have a 
home out there somewhere?"
	She bared her fangs and leapt down from the pipe, crossing 
the circle of light quickly in her sudden agitation, whirling back to 
face him at the edge of the shadows.  He watched her quietly.
	"No," she stated flatly, answering his question.
	"Someone who will be concerned if you don't come back?" he 
attempted again.
	"No," she repeated.  She watched him intently, weighing her 
options, considering her words.  She realized she actually knew 
nothing of Soundwave, nothing at all, except that some primordial 
jungle instinct was telling her that she could trust him.  Her species 
had lived and died by those instincts since the Universe itself was a 
new hatchling....
	"In a thousand years," she confided, "you are the first living 
being that has shown me one moment's kindness.  Maybe for that 
reason I don't *want* to be on my way.  I would just as soon throw in 
my fate with you and the others on Cybertron as I would anywhere 
else."
	The shading in Soundwave's eyes seemed to change slightly, 
the red becoming just a bit darker, though she didn't know what it 
meant.  "You have no idea," he said softly, "no idea what you're 
getting yourself into."
	"But that's true everywhere, isn't it?" she said defiantly.  "I 
could scour the galaxy until the end of time and never know what to 
expect."
	"That is true," Soundwave agreed.  "But you can spare 
yourself a lot of pain by leaving now."
	She bared her fangs in a grin that held absolutely no humor.  
"I don't see how."
	Soundwave regarded her silently for a long moment.  The 
shade of his eyes brightened again, and he nodded.  "If you are to stay 
with us," he mused, "I should know what to call you.  Do you have a 
name?  I found nothing in my superficial scan of your mind, back on 
the planetoid."
	*That's probably because I've had no reason to use or respond 
to my name since leaving the homeworld*, she thought ironically.  
"Yes," she replied aloud.  "I am---" she paused, trying to think how 
best to translate the conglomeration of sounds that was her name, into 
this new and still unfamiliar language.  "--Rrkkkssssa," she attempted.  
"Rrkssha ... *Raksha*."



			II.

	Megatron glowered into the vast, cavernous dimness of the 
audience chamber, and absently drummed his fingers over the armrest 
of his throne.  He'd dismissed the sentries, as was his custom; by 
contrast, when Shockwave was placed in charge of the Black Fortress 
in Megatron's absence, he invariably lined both sides of the throne 
room with a row of polished, gleaming warriors.  Ostentatious fool, 
Megatron thought disgustedly, much more satisfied with his current 
solitude.
	They had returned to Cybertron only ten hours ago, but it 
seemed like much longer.  It was a minor miracle that the old 
rattletrap starship had made the trip back from Earth in one piece, 
even with the stopover for re-fueling.  Megatron had wanted his first 
order of business to be repairs to the space bridge, but circumstances 
dictated otherwise.  Shockwave had greeted him with such relief on 
his return to the Black Fortress, that Megatron had known 
immediately something was wrong.  It didn't take long for the story to 
come tumbling out, either -- interspersed with abject apologies and 
disclaimers and laying blame to the current downward trend in the 
war, Shockwave explained that the last functioning power plant in 
Polyhex Province, just beyond the northernmost outskirts of the city, 
had fallen to the Autobots.  The Black Fortress was currently running 
on backup generator-power, which would last only two weeks, perhaps 
three with the strictest of rationing.
	At the time of Megatron's arrival, Autobot forces were slowly 
but surely pushing the Decepticon army southward in an attempt to 
take more of the city and approach the Fortress itself.  Megatron, 
deciding with a conscious effort to unleash his fury on the Autobots 
rather than on Shockwave, had gone immediately to the battle front.  
The return of their leader seemed to give the warriors new courage, 
and they began to push back at the advancing enemy, finally bringing 
them to a standstill and even forcing them back a short distance.  But 
there was no re-taking the power plant that day, and both sides were 
currently entrenched along the north edge of the city, waiting for the 
other to make a move or show some weakness -- or waiting, perhaps, 
for their respective leaders to come up with new orders.
	Megatron, for his part, hoped that Ultra Magnus, who was 
directing this assault, was as momentarily out of brilliant ideas as he 
was.  It was always easier to defend secured territory than it was to 
retake what was lost.  For a moment, Megatron indulged in the 
thought of crushing Shockwave's skull, but that was a passing fancy.  
Shockwave had been a good strategist once, in his days as Megatron's 
Subcommander on the equator, long ago -- but the long years as 
Guardian of Cybertron, little more than a glorified archivist, had 
dulled his edge.  He had a brilliantly logical mind and an encyclopedic 
intelligence, which he had put to good use for the Decepticon cause -- 
but his knowledge was of arcane matters and abstract concepts that 
had little to do with the real world.  He had lost the razor-sharp battle 
instincts that could meet the unexpected head-on, and triumph.
	Though at the moment, Megatron's razor-sharp battle 
instincts weren't doing him much good either.  His impulse was to go 
back to the front, to be close to any potential action -- but until there 
was news of a change, or he had a definite plan in mind, that would 
serve little purpose.  The Decepticon and Autobot troops were 
positioned in such a way, at the moment, that they could stare at each 
other across the ruined cityscape for weeks without either side being 
able to budge -- with the power plant looming in the background and 
the Black Fortress' reserves slowly running dry.
	Megatron closed one hand into a fist and brought it down 
angrily onto the armrest of his throne.  How quickly things changed, 
he thought -- how drastically minor events could shift the balance of 
power.  The Decepticons in the Northern Hemisphere had been doing 
well for themselves, expanding or at least easily holding the borders of 
Polyhex, and for once facing no critical shortage of fuel or supplies.  
The turning point had been the failed attack on Iacon two months ago.  
"This battle will determine the future of the Decepticon Empire," 
Megatron had said at the time.  He hoped now that he hadn't been 
right.
	Across the vast, dark audience chamber, the massive doors 
slid open with barely a sound, showing some light in the corridor 
beyond.  Soundwave, a momentary silhouette against the opening, 
entered the chamber, and Megatron rose hurriedly to meet him 
halfway.  "Any news?" he said.  "Have you broken through the 
communications interference?"
	The Autobots had managed to thoroughly jam all inter-- and 
intraplanetary communications, so Polyhex could not even send for 
reinforcements from other provinces.  Megatron had immediately 
dispatched flying messengers, of course, but it would be a matter of 
time before they arrived anywhere, provided they got through at all.
	Soundwave shook his head in response to his leader's 
question.  "No change in our communications status, and no change 
on the battle front in the last three hours.  I have left Reflector 
temporarily in charge of trying to break through the interference."
	"Alright," Megatron said, deciding Soundwave had earned a 
break, having been in the thick of battle and then later in the 
communications center almost from the moment they returned to 
Cybertron.  "But if anything changes, I want *you* on top of it, not 
Reflector.  And you are to contact me immediately."
	"Of course," Soundwave agreed.  "Meanwhile ... there is the 
matter of the offworlder, Raksha."
	"What of her?" Megatron asked with some irritation.  He 
didn't want to be distracted with irrelevancies right now.  "Let her go.  
I've got no quarrel with her species."
	"You don't understand," Soundwave said.  "She wants to join 
us."
	Megatron stared at him in bafflement at this.  Alien species 
did not *join* the Decepticons.  They were either conquered and 
enslaved, exterminated, or ignored.  Certainly, the occasional organic 
being had taken up temporary alliance with the Decepticons in the past 
-- but only to pursue motives of their own, motives that Megatron 
never had any intention of fulfilling, once his "ally's" usefulness was 
ended.  "What possible motive could she have for wanting to join us?" 
he demanded of Soundwave.
	"She has nowhere else to go," Soundwave stated matter-of-
factly.
	Megatron had to laugh at this.  "Am I running an 
intergalactic homeless shelter?  No, Soundwave, get rid of her."
	"She could be very useful to us," Soundwave persisted.  "She 
would make an excellent warrior."
	"I didn't realize we were that hard-up for warriors," Megatron 
muttered.  He'd meant for it to come out as a joke, but the words had 
an unpleasant taste of bitter irony.  The momentary reprieve of 
distraction was over, and a brooding frustration closed down over him 
again.  He wanted to shoulder past Soundwave and leave him behind, 
wanted to prowl the corridors of the Fortress, or even fly back to the 
front, anything, just to have some sensation of motion, of progress.  
But Soundwave regarded him quietly, in that unobtrusive way of his, 
which somehow compelled him to stop, to turn back.
	"You saw how she went after those Autobots in the Tykastion 
System," Soundwave reminded him pointedly.  "You may be glad we 
kept her, some day."
	Megatron considered this.  Soundwave's casual predictions 
had an eerie habit of coming true.  But still -- "Why would an 
offworlder want to help us against the Autobots, anyway?"
	Soundwave tilted his head in thought.  "I think it has 
something to do with humans," he mused.
	"*Humans*?" Megatron echoed the nonsensical answer.
	Soundwave shrugged.  "I do not know all the details.  But the 
point is this:  Raksha has offered her assistance.  And we are not 
exactly in a position to refuse."
	Megatron glowered at his Communications Expert, hating the 
truth of his words.  But finally he relented, "Alright ... I'll take another 
look at her.  She's some sort of transformer too, you said?"
	"Of a sort," Soundwave agreed.  "She is a metallic life-form, 
but her transformational process is more of a liquefaction than a 
shifting of constant shapes."
	Megatron regarded him with a suddenly heightened interest.  
"Could we learn something from this?" he asked.  "A technology that 
we could make use of?"
	"I do not know enough about her physiology to tell you," 
Soundwave replied.  "I suspect her 'technology' was *evolved* rather 
than manufactured; Starscream's analogy about wild animals was not 
far from the truth.  What we *can* make use of are her battle skills."
	"Yes, yes, alright," Megatron growled, leading the way out of 
the throne room and into the dimly-lit hallways.

			* * *

	Raksha looked around the large room where Soundwave had 
asked her to wait, regarding the dimmed light-banks in the ceiling.  
While they provided more than enough light for her to see by, she was 
surprised that this immense building was kept so dark.  She'd found, in 
her travels, that most species preferred lighted interiors, since most of 
them could not see nearly as well as she.  Only a few of the rooms 
were fully illuminated -- for instance the vast and complex 
communications center where Soundwave had worked for the past 
hours, where Raksha had coiled up in serpent mode in one of the 
corners and simply watched him.  The three identical smaller robots 
who spoke with one voice, who assisted Soundwave in whatever it was 
he was doing, regarded her a bit suspiciously at first, but then seemed 
to accept and ignore her.
	Finally Soundwave had stepped away from his machinery, 
and, passing some brief instructions to the three small robots, all of 
whom he addressed as "Reflector," he beckoned for Raksha to follow 
him.  He'd brought her here, asking her to wait while he talked to 
Megatron.
	There was a long, rectangular platform in the middle of the 
room that took up most of the floorspace.  Raksha leapt lightly up onto 
it, preferring the elevated height it gave her, from which she could 
more easily watch the door.  She paced the length of the platform 
restlessly, getting used to the light, sharp tap-tapping of her clawed 
feet against the hard glossy surface.  Her head snapped reflexively 
toward the door at the sound of approaching footsteps from outside, 
muffled by the walls and the sealed entrance.  A moment later the door 
slid back and Megatron preceded Soundwave into the room.
	Megatron reached to brush a small panel in the wall, and the 
lights brightened very slightly.  He seemed to catch full sight of her, 
then, and scowled at her in disapproval.  "What is this?" he demanded 
of Soundwave; then, not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned back 
to Raksha and snapped, "I'll thank you not to walk around on my 
conference table!"
	Raksha stared at him blankly.  From behind Megatron, 
Soundwave made a surreptitious gesture:  she was to get down from 
the platform and stand on the floor.
	She leapt down to land before Megatron, who folded his arms 
and glared down at her wordlessly.  "You," he said finally, "wish to 
join the Decepticons?"
	"Yes," she said.
	He moved around her in a slow circle, looking her over.  She 
tracked him with her eyes, waving her tail through a slow undulation.  
"What do you have to offer us?" he asked then.
	In response she spun a quarter of a circle to face him directly 
and displayed her most formidable armory.  She brought up her hands, 
extending the devastatingly sharp, metal-rending talons at her 
fingertips to their full imposing length.  The dim overhead lights 
caught and gleamed for a moment off one razor-edged tip.  She tilted 
her head slightly in such a way that the light would catch her eyes and 
reflect a startling green; she bared her fangs very slightly in a smile.
	For a moment Megatron almost smiled himself, exchanging a 
quick look with Soundwave.  Then his optics blazed with a fiery 
intensity, burning into hers.  "Do you swear loyalty to the Decepticon 
cause?" he demanded.  "Do you swear obedience to me as your leader, 
to follow no other until your life's end -- to live for victory to the 
Decepticons and destruction of our enemies?"
	Raksha paused uncertainly, as she didn't know what some of 
the terms meant.  What was a "leader"?  She shot a look at 
Soundwave, who nodded to her encouragingly.  Looking back at 
Megatron she re-sheathed her talons and replied confidently, "Yes."
	He drew back from her, glowering at her skeptically as 
though he didn't quite believe her.  Then he leveled a finger at her.  
"I'll give you a trial period," he said.  "Prove yourself, and you can 
stay.  Screw up, or betray me once--" here his optics flashed 
dangerously -- "and I'll send you on your way through space.  *In 
pieces*."  He turned to Soundwave.  "It's up to you to teach her what 
she needs to know." 
	The dark-blue Decepticon nodded wordless acquiescence.  
Megatron left them alone.
	"I don't think he likes me," Raksha said to Soundwave after 
the door had slid shut again.  Furthermore she wasn't sure that *she* 
liked *him*, now that she'd had a one-on-one confrontation with the 
imperious silver warrior.  She didn't care to be snapped at.
	Soundwave's eyeband brightened slightly in what Raksha was 
coming to recognize as a smile.  "Not true," he said.  "He's just in a 
bad mood about other things.  It has nothing to do with you.  That's 
one of the first things you need to learn ... Megatron may direct his 
anger at you sometimes, but you can't take it personally."
	Raksha tilted her head thoughtfully, considering the 
interactions she had seen between Soundwave and Megatron.  
Considering the respect, and even affection, that Soundwave seemed to 
have for Megatron, there was surely *something* worthwhile about 
him.  Raksha decided she would give him a chance.

			* * *

	When Soundwave went back to his work in the 
communications center, Raksha prowled the base, beginning to 
navigate the overwhelmingly immense maze of hallways and 
corridors.  Somehow she felt that her place was more secure now -- 
that something had hinged on Megatron's "permission" -- though she 
didn't quite understand how one being could give another 
*permission* to be or not be somewhere.  But some species were 
territorial, she knew, and perhaps the answer lay there.  Decepticons 
were territorial.  Apparently their conflict with the Autobots was based 
upon territory.
	But she was not interested in the details at the moment.  It 
was the building, the Black Fortress itself, that took up her attention 
now, for if this was to be her new home, her lair, then she would need 
to know how to get around here.  And even more importantly, how to 
get in and out.  In some rooms she came across large windows which 
she knew she could shatter if she flew against them at full-force in 
serpent mode -- but that was not the way most creatures entered and 
left buildings.  So she searched, keeping watch for openings or 
entranceways.
	Most of the Decepticons that she passed in the dimly lit 
hallways did not even notice her, they were so intent on their own 
destinations.  Most moved in small orderly groups, with heavy laser 
weapons and other artillery prominently displayed.  Some went about 
singly or in pairs, and some even took notice of the alien in their 
midst, staring at her in curiosity or suspicion.  One even tried to stop 
her, demanded to know who she was and what she was doing here, but 
she evaded his grasp easily and bared her fangs with a threatening 
growl.  He apparently thought the better of interrogating her further, 
remembering some place more important that he had to be.
	Raksha moved on, still amazed at the smoothness of the walls 
and the angles of the ceilings.  It was all so very alien to her.  At one 
point she had to stop and gather herself in a dark, unused little room -- 
here she was in the heart of the maze, in the center of some massive 
artificial construct, surrounded by cold metal and beings of which she 
knew next to nothing -- what had she been thinking of, when she'd 
told Soundwave and Megatron she wanted to stay here?  Her gaze 
turned longingly toward the small circular window behind her that 
showed a view of the stars.  Should she plunge back out into space and 
continue her flight, her endless flight to nowhere?
	Trembling slightly, she turned away from the window and 
reached out for the cold, smooth wall to steady herself.  *Adapt*, she 
whispered to herself fiercely, *adapt and survive.  That's why you lived 
when all the others died*.
	Smoothing her bristling plumes back against her head, she 
stepped determinedly back out into the labyrinth.  When she passed 
Decepticons and they took notice of her, she returned their stares with 
a certainty she did not yet feel:  *I belong here.  You cannot displace 
me*.
	Presently she followed a group of armed warriors to a spot 
where a massive entranceway slid back into the wall to let them pass.  
They took to the air almost as soon as they were through the portal, 
rapidly receding from view.  Raksha followed and darted through the 
door before it could fully close, then stood still outside the Black 
Fortress, looking around.
	It was her first real view of Cybertron other than what little 
she had glimpsed from the ship as they landed.  With the group of 
Decepticons little more than moving specks in the distance already, 
there was no other motion nearby.  While the side of the Black 
Fortress rose like an impenetrable wall behind her, the view ahead was 
blocked by massive fallen towers and shattered buildings that spilled 
pieces of themselves all the way up against the Fortress itself.  Distant 
starlight caught the occasional edge of metal here, the occasional 
shard of glass there, the odd reflection in a bit of steel that had not 
entirely lost its polish.  Raksha moved forward slowly, on the alert in 
the unfamiliar and chilly air.
	She caught sight of something off to the right, not a 
movement exactly, but an outline.  A moment later she picked out the 
entire shape -- an insectoid form a bit larger than herself, with huge 
eyes, long antennae, and two powerful, curled forearms that looked 
like they could snap downward and impale a sizable prey-item on their 
inner, spiked surfaces.  Something in its appearance seemed to denote 
it as a female, one of the few that Raksha had seen since her arrival.  
The creature's color matched that of her background almost precisely, 
even becoming darker halfway down the paired wings where a shadow 
fell across her back.  A faint, almost indistinguishable triangular 
symbol adorned those wings -- the symbol that Raksha had come to 
recognize as distinguishing Decepticons from their enemies, the 
Autobots.
	The insectoid being remained motionless in an alert posture, 
and made no move against her.  Her attention seemed focused out 
toward the ruins of the city, but Raksha was certain she was looking at 
her out of the sides of those huge, faceted eyes.  A guard, then, or an 
informant, but not an enemy.
	Raksha's gaze swept the jagged remains of the buildings 
around her one more time, and then, inclining her head toward the 
sentry, she shifted to serpent mode and took to the air.  The sentry 
made a tiny, startled movement -- whether from seeing Raksha's 
transformation, or from surprise that Raksha had seen *her*, Raksha 
did not know.  But she left the insectoid Decepticon behind as she rose 
upward on slow wingbeats to view the city from above.
	Polyhex City was darkness upon darkness, a gouged and 
broken jumble of metal that had once been buildings, all in black or 
gray, dark blue or deep purple, or covered with soot and scorched 
beyond a recognizable color.  Some splashes of lighter color littered 
the shadowed ruins, colors that might once have been gold or silver.  
Black smoke curled in half a hundred places from broken transport-
ways or toppled edifices, barely visible against the eternal night sky.
	Cybertron was a wanderer through the icy depths of space, 
just as Raksha was.  There was no sun here to warm its cold, broken 
metal, no stable place in the Universe where this anguished world 
could anchor itself.  A vast sense of desolation came over her as she 
skimmed the tops of the gutted buildings, peered fruitlessly into the 
pitch-black shadows of the ravines that were sliced into the city's 
surface, that might have plunged to the very depths of the planet's 
core.
	The cityscape stirred a memory within her that flashed on,
brilliant like a strobe-light, the scenes intermingling - the rising 
columns of black smoke from the buildings around her-
	*----a wall of black smoke rising from a long-vanished
jungle, the blaze roaring like a living thing in its death-throes-* 
	----the evidence of explosions that had shaken Polyhex
City to its foundations-
	*----the deafening explosions of huge, ancient trees that
burst apart from the unimaginable heat-*
	----the remains of towers that thrust like huge metal
shards or warped daggers into the night sky- 
	*----the broken metallo-organic remnants of the trees that
reached upward like spears from the blackened earth into the
blackening sky. . . .*

	Into the cold silence of Cybertron's eternal night, she cried 
out the ancient jungle song of her species.  Once a joyful thing, a 
means of communication at sunrise and sunset, it was pure sadness 
now, for she would never receive an answer.  It was an eerie and 
indescribably desolate sound, that carried through the thin atmosphere 
to reach those who scrounged for survival in the shattered streets 
below.  Those who heard it drew closer together and wondered what 
new terror had been unleashed on their already ransacked planet.



			III.

	Soundwave had gotten communications back again.  From 
the computer console in his quarters, Megatron contacted Shadowlord 
and Thunderwing, the two closest warlords with sizable territories and 
formidable numbers of troops, to send what reinforcements they could 
spare.  Which, in Shadowlord's case, amounted to none.
	Shadowlord's subcommander Siege-Gun explained that all 
their available warriors were needed to guard the mines -- and 
Megatron had to grudgingly admit that Hellpit Territory's 
quadrilithium mines were a more valuable resource to the Decepticons 
than even Polyhex and its single power plant.
	To Thunderwing's similar protest, that he needed all available 
troops to guard the borders of his realm, Megatron turned an 
indifferent audio-sensor.  "You will send 500 warriors immediately, or 
I'll have you replaced by one of your many ambitious underlings!" 
Megatron snarled.
	Thunderwing's colorless eyes narrowed on the screen, but he 
made no further complaint.  "As you command, my lord," he said 
smoothly, with the outdated formality that Megatron always found so 
grating.  He stabbed at a button on the console in front of him, closing 
the channel.
	For a moment he sat before the dark screen, lost in his plans.  
How best to deploy those 500 troops, once they got here?  Best to send 
them in from the outskirts of the city, trapping the power plant and the 
Autobots between them.  That risked considerable damage to the 
energy-conversion reactors, of course, but Megatron would destroy the 
power plant if he had to, before he let the Autobots keep it -- just as he 
had destroyed the subterranean lake of fossil fuel on the Tykastion 
planetoid.  But that was an option of last resort.  At the moment things 
remained quiet on the battle front, and he had only to wait for the 
reinforcements to arrive.
	On impulse he reactivated the screen, thinking of the 
offworlder Raksha that Soundwave had for some reason taken under 
his care.  What did he really know about this creature?  What was it 
Soundwave had called her -- a Plumed Serpent?  Megatron typed in a 
series of commands on his keyboard, linking his console to the vast 
interplanetary subspace network that spanned most of known, 
inhabited space.  Plenty of on-line information on the inhabitants of 
the galaxy to be had here.  He skimmed through a series of titles, 
encyclopedias stored electronically and automatically updated at each 
new discovery or added grain of knowledge.  *Intelligent Species of 
the Milky Way*; *Known Lifeforms of the Andromeda Galaxy*; 
*Zoologica Galaktica*....
	He paused, paged back.  That last one was the one he wanted.  
He accessed the record, and entered the key phrase "Plumed Serpent."
	The computer paused only an instant before a short paragraph 
in orange letters sprang up on the black background of the screen.

	Plumed Serpent, _Ophiopteryx deinonychus_.  Inhabitant of 
	Gamma Reticuli II (see cross-reference, Gamma Reticuli), 
	predatory rainforest-dweller. Metallic life-form with organic 
	life-cycle.  Two interchangeable forms, reptilian biped and 
	winged snake.  Believed to have been sentient.  Extinct.

	Megatron's optics brightened a bit in surprise at the last word.  
With a swift series of commands he cross-referenced "Gamma 
Reticuli."  It was a hot red star at the farthest edge of the galaxy with a 
small solar system of three planets, the second of which had once been 
covered in dense rainforest.  But the planet had been unable to support 
life for the past thousand years.
	Megatron leaned back and regarded the screen thoughtfully.  
He had no more time to dwell on the matter, however, for at that 
moment his internal communicator beeped, with Soundwave urgently 
requesting his presence in the main communications center.

			* * *

	Raksha peered curiously at the electronic map that was 
superimposed over part of the dark metal wall in front of her.  It was 
one of only two walls that remained standing, of what had once been a 
small structure, and was currently being used as a field command 
station.  Aside from the map, a large swiveling laser cannon had been 
set up and loomed over the broken remains of the wall.  Beneath and 
to the sides of it was more equipment which Raksha did not recognize.  
She understood from listening to Megatron and the other Decepticons 
that the glowing red dots on the map represented individuals or groups 
of enemy warriors where they were holed up in the power plant, as 
best their positions were known.  The purple dots, amassed in other 
locations, represented their own forces.  And yet, when Raksha looked 
around at the armed warriors who had taken up positions in the ruins, 
and looked across the littered plain that stretched toward the object of 
their attentions, the towering spires of the power plant -- she could not 
mentally superimpose the symbolic map onto her physical 
surroundings.  She had said as much to Soundwave, who had replied 
that it was alright, that she was just to stay in the background and 
watch for the moment.
	And indeed, not much seemed to be happening.  During her 
exploration of the city she had seen a group of Decepticons fly past in 
the distance, and had picked out Megatron leading them, and 
Soundwave with him, and on impulse had flown to join them.  They 
had come here, to the outer edge of the shattered city, to join the 
warriors already present.  Upon landing, they had dodged a 
perfunctory volley of laser bolts from the power plant -- too distant to 
shoot them out of the sky, but effectively preventing a closer approach.  
The field commander had greeted Megatron with a status report:  no 
Autobots had ventured into visual range, but the Constructicons, 
making their slow way forward as they tunneled underneath the steal 
plain toward the power plant, were reporting readings that might 
possibly indicate troop movement.
	Raksha stared with the others toward the huge structure that 
rose out of the ruins up ahead, but it looked as though nothing had 
changed.  The silent darkness was broken only by the dull gleam of the 
buildings themselves and the cold stars overhead.  Even Megatron, 
when he spoke to the field commander, did so in a hushed tone, as 
though the enemy might overhear.  Raksha sensed the tension all 
around her, as the Decepticon warriors crouched motionless in place 
or silently shifted their grips on their weapons.  Soundwave stepped up 
beside her and motioned wordlessly for her to move back from her 
vantage point to a less exposed position.  He carried a large, cannon-
like hand laser with a silver tip, in addition to his mounted shoulder-
cannon.  The handgun looked awkward and heavy, and yet Soundwave 
carried it with casual ease, as though it were a natural part of him.
	Raksha walked alongside him, staying close.  Nine or ten 
smaller robots and animals clustered loosely around them and followed 
along.  Raksha had learned that these were Soundwave's hatchlings -- 
or rather, *creations*, as his species called them, and they too were 
armed.  It occurred to her that they, or even Soundwave, could be 
injured if battle broke out.  Feeling suddenly a bit frightened for 
Soundwave and protective of the little ones, Raksha decided to keep 
close watch on all of them if hostilities broke out.
	A small group of warriors walked around from the side of one 
of the toppled buildings and joined the troops already positioned at the 
command station.  The others made room for them, barely taking their 
optics from the towers of the power plant in the distance.  Raksha 
looked at the new arrivals sharply.  Something was wrong with one of 
them, a red-and-green robot approximately Raksha's size, who carried 
an impressive cannon barrel slung over his shoulder.
	He turned slightly as he settled into position beside the others, 
and Raksha saw what the problem was.  Instantaneously she launched 
herself, plowing into the robot with such force that the cannon went 
flying out of his hands.  Her fangs found his throat and sunk in, 
holding her in place as the impact flipped both of them end-over-end 
three times.  The crash and clang of metal, startling in the silence, had 
not yet died away when Raksha pulled away from her dead victim, fuel 
running from his torn-open throat and dripping from her fangs.
	Megatron was immediately beside her, and Soundwave right 
behind him.  "What the hell are you doing?" the Decepticon leader 
demanded furiously.   "Don't you know the difference between a 
Decepticon and an--"  He stopped short as the purple triangular image 
of the Decepticon symbol flickered once and dissolved from the dead 
robot's chest, leaving the squarish red emblem underneath.  "--
Autobot," Megatron finished in amazement.  "Holographic overlays," 
he muttered to himself.  "Not bad, Ultra Magnus -- I might have 
pulled something like that myself.  And you," he said to Raksha, "saw 
through the holo-field?"
	"It was obvious," she said, smoothing back her plumes.  
"There was a gridwork of holes in the image."
	Soundwave gave Megatron a significant look, which the 
Decepticon leader pointedly ignored.
	"Find the visual wavelength of the holo-field and broadcast it 
to the rest of us," he instructed Soundwave.  "In case there's more of 
them."
	Megatron had barely completed the sentence when gunfire 
erupted to both sides of the field station.  Warriors swarmed towards 
them out of the ruins, all wearing what to Raksha were obviously fake 
Decepticon symbols overlaying the Autobot ones that showed through 
clearly underneath.  But to the others, these images must have looked 
solid, and it created the intended confusion.  When the new arrivals' 
actions were obviously hostile, it was easy for the Decepticons to pick 
their targets.  When the disguised Autobots ceased firing, it was easy 
for one or two to meld in among the Decepticons unnoticed and attack 
them from behind.  Raksha picked off another one that was making 
the attempt, even as Megatron fired repeated blasts from his fusion 
cannon and the other warriors tried their best to tell friend from enemy 
and fire at the right targets.
	"Hurry up and get that wavelength!" Megatron shouted at 
Soundwave over the roar of his fusion cannon.  Soundwave had 
crouched down over Raksha's first kill and extracted a tiny generator 
chip from the robot's torso.  A moment later he transformed into a 
rectangular recording device and broadcast an audial signal -- one of 
such a frequency that it was just beyond Raksha's range of hearing.  
But somehow it disrupted the visual fields on the surrounding 
Autobots.  With a flickering of light, their superimposed Decepticon 
symbols dissolved, leaving them obvious targets.
	"Good!" Megatron called as two robots fell simultaneously to 
his fusion blasts.  "Now broadcast those wavelengths to the rest of our 
warriors, so they can see the illusions for themselves!"
	Soundwave remained in transformed mode a moment longer, 
apparently following Megatron's orders.  Then he resumed robot form 
and plunged into the battle.  Raksha found herself surrounded by 
fighting Decepticons who totally ignored her.  Lacking any nearby 
Autobots to dispatch, all she could do was watch uselessly and try to 
stay out of the way.  She looked around for Soundwave's creations, to 
see if they were safe, but saw only a few of them scattered randomly 
throughout the other warriors, too far apart to observe all at once.  She 
watched as Soundwave vaulted over the remains of the field station 
wall along with a small group of other Decepticons who were pushing 
the Autobots out onto the metal plain and forcing them slowly back 
toward the power plant.  Soundwave's shoulder cannon and laser gun 
spewed bright bursts of fire; once or twice he got close enough to an 
Autobot to fell them with his fists.
	Raksha gaped in amazement.  The cold brutality with which 
Soundwave dispatched his opponents seemed completely at odds with 
everything she had yet learned about him.
	"Quite the amazing transformation, isn't it?" Megatron said, 
coming up beside her, and nodding towards Soundwave.  "The first 
time I saw him go into 'double-destroyer-mode' like that, I didn't 
believe it either.  If you didn't know better, you wouldn't think him 
capable of it.  You wouldn't think he's one of my best warriors."  He 
grinned appreciatively.
	Heat radiated from the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, 
but at the moment he was just watching, obviously pleased with the 
way the battle was going.  From all around the surrounding ruins, 
Decepticons were forcing the Autobots back a step at a time across the 
plain, toward the power plant.  However, more Autobots were 
streaming toward them to join in, and already the Decepticons were 
decidedly outnumbered.  Raksha winced as a Decepticon fighting 
alongside Soundwave was blasted at point-blank range and crumpled 
into smoking wreckage.  Soundwave turned and caught the responsible 
Autobot full in the chest with a blast from his shoulder cannon, which 
melted a charred hole completely through the other robot's torso before 
he even fell to the ground.
	Megatron's pleased expression remained, and Raksha looked 
at him uncomprehendingly.  It seemed not to bother him at all, that 
Decepticons were falling and dying, as long as they were taking 
Autobots with them and kept forcing them backwards.  It was deeply 
ingrained in Raksha's species, that one defended one's own kind in 
times of danger -- and especially the young, which was probably why 
she'd felt protective about Soundwave's creations.  True, the 
Decepticons were not her species.  This was not her war, and she had 
no great interest in killing Autobots, unless there were humans present 
-- which there weren't.  Still, she had formed enough of an attachment 
to the Decepticons in the short time she'd been here, that it bothered 
her to see one of them fall.  She would have thought that Megatron, as 
their leader, as the one who had sent them into this carnage, would 
have felt responsible for their lives -- but apparently he didn't.
	An explosion echoed across the battlefield, and a bright burst 
of light went up from one side of the power plant building.
	"Excellent -- the Constructicons have made their way in!" 
Megatron said, his eyes flashing bright with anticipation.  "Come on, 
Raksha -- you want to be a Decepticon warrior?  Let's finish off the 
rest of this Autobot rabble."  With an eager grin he launched himself 
into the air and sped down toward the battlefield, his laser cannon 
spewing thunderous blasts of destructive light.
	Raksha, too taken aback by the slaughter and Megatron's 
indifference to it, could only stare after him in horrified fascination.  
Another Decepticon below, a flyer of the same design as Starscream, 
Skywarp, and Thundercracker, disappeared in a burst of fire and 
smoke.  It cleared a moment later, leaving the warrior writhing on the 
ground minus his right arm and wing, with a gaping hole torn into his 
side.  The Autobot who had fired the blast advanced on him to finish 
him off.
	With a cry of protest Raksha leapt into her serpent mode and 
arrowed downward, her wings beating hard and her jaws gaping.  The 
last thing the Autobot saw coming toward him were two long sets of 
fangs gleaming in Cybertron's eternal night.

			* * *

	It had happened before and it would undoubtedly happen 
again -- Mixmaster's chemical combinations were rather more 
unstable than he had anticipated, and the bomb he set went off a 
fraction of a second too soon.  The resulting explosion blasted a hole 
in the floor of the power plant's lower sublevel, allowing the 
Constructicons a way in from the tunnel they had dug underneath.  It 
also hurled a chunk of sharp-edged debris at just the wrong trajectory, 
and caught Bonecrusher in the leg just before he had reached the 
safety of the blast shield.
	Stifling a cry of pain he fell to the floor, clutching his left leg.  
When the smoke from the explosion cleared a little, Scavenger could 
see that the leg had been nearly severed at the knee.
	"Dammit, Mixmaster!" Scrapper fumed at the other 
Constructicon.  "You said we had five seconds!  Now we won't be able 
to form Devastator!"  He glared at Bonecrusher as well, as though he 
were equally at fault.
	Bonecrusher reached up and grabbed Scavenger's arm, 
pulling himself to his feet.  "We might not be able to form 
Devastator," he gasped, "but I can still fight!"
	"Don't be ridiculous," Scrapper snapped.  "You're a hindrance 
to us now!  You stay here and we'll get you on the way back.  The rest 
of you, get up there before we lose our advantage!"  He gestured his 
team through the gaping hole in the ceiling, and leapt upward through 
the thinning smoke.
	Scavenger tried to pull away from Bonecrusher to follow, but 
the other Constructicon held onto him.  "I can still fight," he growled.  
"Help me up there!"
	"Okay," Scavenger resigned himself, "but Scrapper's gonna 
be mad, and it won't be *my* fault...."
	He put on a short burst from his flight engines that lifted both 
himself and Bonecrusher through the entrance and into the plant itself.  
The others had already run on ahead.  Scavenger could hear the laser 
fire and shouts of surprised Autobots as the four Constructicons 
attacked them.  As quickly as he could with Bonecrusher limping 
along beside him, Scavenger hurried through the archway up ahead, 
into the control room where the operation of the power plant was 
constantly being monitored.  Monitored by *Autobots*, for the last few 
days.  The thought was revolting.  Scavenger drew his laser and fired 
at the larger robots who were shooting back at them from behind the 
makeshift cover of storage bins and furniture.  The Constructicons had 
been ordered to use the lowest settings on their weaponry, to avoid 
damaging as much of the power plant as possible -- but the Autobots 
had no such orders.  Scavenger flung himself backward as a wide 
beam of yellow light almost seared the side of his helmet.  
Bonecrusher, still hanging onto his arm for balance, fell with him, and 
they landed behind the bulky console of a monitoring station.
	Bonecrusher curled up, clutching his leg in silent agony.  
"Sorry," Scavenger whispered, touching Bonecrusher's shoulder in a 
brief gesture of sympathy, even as he looked around for Autobots who 
might have them in their gunsights.  "But you shoulda stayed back in 
the tunnel--"
	"Shut up," Bonecrusher gasped, still curled over.
	Scavenger couldn't see the others, but could hear the laser fire 
and smell the seared wires as equipment was destroyed and started 
burning.  A new sound started up from close by, something that 
sounded like coughing, but very faint.  Scavenger looked around in 
confusion, and then saw movement.
	One of the Autobots' pet humans was stumbling out from 
under a Transformer-sized computer console that was pouring smoke.  
It couldn't see because the smoke was obscuring its optics, and couldn't 
run because the smoke was getting into its oxygen infilters.  It reached 
out its hands as though to grope its way forward, shaking its head and 
coughing.
	Scavenger looked around for Autobots one more time, then 
reached out and grabbed the human.  It was so small that he couldn't 
be totally sure, but it looked female, covered in tight-fitting blue-and-
white cloth, with its long yellow head-fur held together with a blue 
ribbon.  Regaining its breath, it started to struggle in his grip.
	Scavenger smiled and decided to keep it.  Scrapper would 
berate him for bringing back more useless junk, of course, but that was 
okay.  He opened his chest compartment and placed the human inside, 
making sure to close the hatch securely.
	Bonecrusher had recovered by now, and was looking at him 
contemptuously.  "Don't you have enough garbage in your quarters 
already?" he asked.
	Scavenger had no time to think of a snappy reply (not that he 
could ever think of one anyway, until long *after* such conversations 
were over), because the noise level from the battle suddenly doubled.  
As he looked up, a horizontal column of fire scalded the air close to 
ceiling level.
	Hook and Long Haul scurried out of the smoke to join them.  
"Dinobots!" Long Haul gasped.  "They brought in the lousy Dinobots!  
I'm getting pretty blasted tired of getting chased off by them!"
	A moment later Scrapper and Mixmaster appeared alongside 
them.  "It's useless," Scrapper shouted.  "We can't take them on 
without Devastator.  We've got to get back to the tunnel!"
	He broke cover and fired into the smoke, backing up a few 
steps, then turned and ran back the way they had come.  The others 
followed suit as quickly as possible, Scavenger dragging Bonecrusher 
with him.  Behind him he heard the heavy tread of what he assumed 
were Sludge and Slag -- he didn't turn back to look -- and felt the 
reverberation as the floor shook with the impact of their feet.  His fuel 
pump hammering, he managed to keep up with the others even though 
he was carrying twice his weight.  The darkness of the tunnel was a 
welcome relief as they plunged downward.

			* * *

	In the huge command center of the Black Fortress, Megatron 
faced the Constructicons.  Scrapper, as team leader, stood at respectful 
attention before him.  The others, very much aware that Megatron was 
not pleased, hung back as far as possible.
	"Scrapper," Megatron said, deceptively calm, "I'm growing 
more and more displeased with your group.  One of you sustains a 
minor injury and you can't form Devastator -- and the whole operation 
*falls apart*!"  His voice rose in anger, the calm vanished.  "What 
good is a combiner team that can't combine?!  You're constantly 
having problems like this.  I've got to wonder whether you and your 
outdated designs aren't ready for the junkyard!"
	Scrapper, to his credit, stood his ground.  "We *are* the 
original combiner team, Commander," he pointed out calmly.  "The 
technology was state-of-the art when it was first introduced, but our 
knowledge of the process has advanced a great deal since then.  
Certainly, the more recent teams are a little more sophisticated, a little 
more durable -- and that technology could be applied to us as well, 
except that we'd have to be totally rebuilt and redesigned.  We just 
don't have the time and the resources for that.  We'd be out of the 
action for weeks -- and I think we're more effective as we are, staying 
in the fight, than taking that time out in hopes of upgrading ourselves.
	"By the way," he added, "we're not the only group that has 
these problems.  The Stunticons, for instance."
	Scavenger laughed softly with the others.  Scrapper, in his 
rational and polite way, always managed to work in some kind of 
derogatory remark toward the Stunticons, in Megatron's presence.  As 
the second combiner team, their technology was little more well-
developed than the Constructicons', and recently with the newer teams 
so much more advanced, it was noticeable.  There had always been an 
intense rivalry between the combiner teams, particularly between the 
original two -- and they always took pleasure in each others' failures.  
Scavenger could already imagine the taunts they were going to hear 
from Drag Strip and Wildrider....
	"Yes, yes, I've heard all your excuses before," Megatron 
growled.  "The fact remains that you *failed* -- you were driven from 
the power plant, and the Autobots still have control.  You've 
accomplished *nothing*!"
	Scavenger had seen the battlefield, after they'd escaped the 
tunnel.  Drenched in fuel and littered with bodies and parts, it looked 
every bit the war zone; he was glad he had not been involved in that 
battle.  The Decepticons had, in truth, accomplished nothing more 
than thwarting the Autobots' infiltration attempt.  The Decepticon 
forces had regrouped in very much the same pre-battle positions, and 
the Autobots still held the power plant.
	He should have brought back some parts and equipment from 
inside the power plant, Scavenger chastised himself.  At least they 
would have had *something*, and maybe it could have been useful.  
Now and again, some of the stuff he picked up, actually served a 
purpose.  Now and again, Megatron was actually pleased with 
something he brought back.  Absently he reached for the latch on his 
chest compartment, remembering the little human creature he had 
picked up.  Should he take it out?  Might it be useful?  Or would he 
just get laughed at?
	"One more failure like this," Megatron was saying to 
Scrapper, "and you can forget being an autonomous team.  If you can't 
handle things alone, I'm going to throw you in with some other 
ground-support squadron, and I don't care if you ever form Devastator 
again.  In fact, I'll put you together with the Stunticons, since both of 
your groups are so lacking these days.  Maybe you'll be able to 
accomplish together what the newer combiner teams can do on their 
own!"
	Scrapper stared at Megatron, truly horrified.  "But we've 
always operated as an independent unit," he protested.  "And we 
couldn't possibly work with the Stunticons--"
	"You could, and you will, if I so order!" Megatron said.  "It's 
up to you.  Don't fail me again."
	Time for a distraction, Scavenger thought, pulling the human 
from his chest compartment.  "Uh ... Megatron?" he spoke up 
carefully.  "We -- we did bring *something* back from the power 
plant...."  He held up the human between thumb and forefinger, letting 
its legs dangle in the air.
	"Oh no," Bonecrusher groaned, from where he was leaning 
on Long Haul.  "Scavenger, you idiot--"
	"Scavenger, you idiot," Megatron said at almost the exact 
same moment.  "Can't you pick up anything but garbage?  And can't 
you learn not to bother me with it?"  The Decepticon leader's optics 
flashed in irritation.
	Scavenger hung his head and started to put the human back 
into his chest compartment.  Another mistake, another useless trinket 
that no one else wanted.  Maybe he wouldn't keep it after all.  Maybe 
he'd just throw it away.
	"Wait a minute!" Megatron exclaimed, suddenly looking 
interested.  "Give me that!"
	Scavenger looked up in amazement as Megatron held out his 
hand.  Hurriedly he placed the human in Megatron's palm.  Megatron 
closed his hand over it, grinning in sudden delight.  "Scavenger, you're 
brilliant," he said, in such an offhand way that Scavenger knew better 
than to take it literally.  Still, he looked at his leader in hopeful 
expectation.  Something he had brought back might actually be useful?
	He noticed the other Constructicons, particularly 
Bonecrusher, looking at him in amazement, and smiled inwardly -- 
but for the moment he was much more interested in Megatron's words.
	"Is it possible," his leader was saying, more to himself than to 
the Constructicons, "is it possible that the Autobots, with their pathetic 
regard for these weak and useless creatures, would trade an entire 
power plant for the life of this single human?"  He looked over the 
Constructicons, and laughed.  "Only Autobots would be so stupid, to 
be sure -- but it just might work!"
	The human struggled in his grip, and managed to get its head 
free between two of Megatron's fingers.  "You'll never get away with 
this, you monster!" it shouted in a tiny voice.  "The Autobots will 
rescue me before you can use me for ransom!"
	Megatron regarded the creature and laughed disparagingly.  
"No Autobot can get in here, fleshling.  You might as well forget it."  
He looked at the organic a bit more closely and said, "I remember you.  
You're the insolent creature that tried to bomb my undersea base on 
Earth a few years ago.  As I recall, you spent some time in captivity 
with us then.  This time, you won't be so lucky as to escape.  It will 
give me great pleasure to crush the life out of your body -- *after* your 
Autobot friends have returned the power plant to us, of course."  He 
grinned maliciously and handed the human back to Scavenger.
	"Here," he said, "see that you put our hostage in a secure 
place.  I don't want anything to happen to her -- until later!"
	Scavenger happily accepted the kicking, struggling human 
back, and, with a triumphant look around at his fellow Constructicons, 
headed out of the command center.  Megatron, pleased with this new 
turn of events, had no further gripes against the others, and dismissed 
them as well.
	"And someone find that offworlder Raksha," he called after 
them as they filed out of the room.  "I want to talk to her...."


			IV.

	"Megatron wants to see you," Skywarp had said to Raksha 
when she'd passed him and Thundercracker in the hallway.  "In the 
command center."
	It was Thundercracker who had thought to give her 
directions.
	She approached the dull-gray plates of the double doors now, 
and they slid apart to let her enter as they sensed her presence.
	Megatron stood before a wall-sized computer unit that looked 
like a larger version of Soundwave's equipment in the communications 
center, watching a read-out on one of the screens.  Upon hearing her 
he touched a button and deactivated the screen, then turned toward her 
and motioned her closer.
	She walked toward him across the empty expanse of 
floorspace, unable to keep from staring around her at the confusing 
tangle of equipment that rose up along the walls, and reached almost 
to the ceiling high overhead.  All the rooms that she'd seen in the 
Fortress seemed to be like this -- huge cavernous spaces with high 
soaring ceilings and technological equipment lining all the walls.  The 
multicolored lights on the many computer consoles shone and blinked 
with a cold beauty against their background of dark metal.  She had no 
idea of their significance, but was drawn to the display of color.
	However she was not here to look at lights, and turned her 
attention back to Megatron, who had been watching her quietly.  He 
pulled up one of the chairs that stood about before the computer banks, 
sat down, and gestured to another beside him.  "Have a seat," he told 
her amiably.
	Raksha eyed the swiveling, wheeled contraption and decided 
it looked none too stable.  She hopped up onto a horizontal ledge of 
computer console next to the empty chair, and pulled her legs up 
under her.  Megatron scowled at her for a moment, but made no 
comment.  A tray of small pink energon cubes rested on one of the 
keypads beside him, and he shoved it towards her.  "Some energon?" 
he offered.
	"I've refueled," she told him.  "Soundwave showed me where 
to go."
	"Good, good," he said with a trace of a smile, leaning back 
comfortably in his chair.  "How are you getting along, then?  Finding 
your way around without problems?  It must be a little overwhelming 
for you, these new surroundings and all."
	"No problems," she answered.  Megatron's relaxed, friendly 
manner for some reason put her on guard, because it was such a 
contrast to the arrogant, demanding way he had spoken to her earlier.  
And, as she was beginning to notice, things were seldom what they 
seemed at surface level, among the Decepticons.  She watched him 
warily as he regarded her with what seemed like speculative 
amusement.
	"So tell me about yourself," he continued casually.  "Where 
are you from?"
	She stared at him expressionlessly.  "Long ago and far away," 
she said finally.
	"Oh, that's helpful," Megatron said, though he did not seem 
annoyed or irritated by her evasiveness.  "Never mind, though, because 
I *know* where you're from."
	She looked at him in surprise at this.
	He grinned at her.  "Do you think I take random aliens into 
my ranks without doing some research?  You might have been an 
Autobot spy, for all I knew.  Anyway, you are from--" he paused, 
affecting a moment's thought -- "Gamma Reticuli II--"
	"That's not what we called it," Raksha interrupted coldly.
	"Nevertheless," he said, with another lopsided grin, "that's 
what it's called on the standard star charts."  He leaned toward her, his 
expression becoming more serious, searching.  "That's almost eighty-
thousand light years from here.  You've come a long way."
	Longer than you can ever imagine, Raksha thought, dropping 
her gaze toward the polished metal floor.
	Megatron regarded her intently for a few moments.  "You're 
the last survivor, aren't you?" he said then, slowly.  "The only one to 
get out alive."
	Abruptly she lifted her head and met his eyes, holding his 
gaze in a long moment of startled, anguished silence.  The scarlet 
shade of his eyes had changed subtly.  From watching Soundwave, 
who had no other means of facial expression, she already knew that a 
Decepticon's eyes changed shade very slightly according to their 
moods and emotions -- but she had not been here long enough to 
attach meanings to the changes.  Megatron was considerably more 
expressive than Soundwave, however, and in his face she thought she 
saw -- what?  Empathy?  Respect?
	"I know what it's like," he said quietly, "to be the only 
survivor.  To be the only one with the strength, the determination, the 
*adaptability* -- to drag yourself out of hell and continue from there."  
He regarded her a moment longer, seeming to waver between saying 
more and retreating into his own thoughts -- then swiveled his chair 
abruptly toward the computer console, activating one of the screens 
directly above it.  "Now leave me," he said, and his voice had resumed 
most of its old commanding edge.  "I'll inform you when I have need 
of your services."
	After a moment's confused hesitation, Raksha slid down from 
her perch and wordlessly left the command center.  Wrapped in 
thought, she navigated the corridors and moved around and among the 
Decepticons she came across, and barely saw them.  It was true, things 
among the Decepticons were not often what they seemed.  Her initial 
assessment of Megatron, and the alternate facet of his personality that 
she had just glimpsed, were certainly proof of that.  She would have to 
be careful not to make hasty judgments, to stand back and watch and 
learn before blundering forward with drastic and ill-conceived  
actions---
	A shape registered on her peripheral vision as she passed 
another Decepticon in the corridor, a medium-sized light-green robot.  
But the shape that had caught her attention had nothing to do with the 
robot himself -- it was a form that leapt out and grabbed her 
consciousness, wherever she happened to encounter it.  And it 
happened that the green robot was holding this shape between thumb 
and forefinger while it squirmed in the air....
	The talons on Raksha's right hand shot out to their full 
lengths as she spun and slashed out, a movement so fast that the green 
robot could not even follow it.  All he saw was the human, torn from 
his fingers and lying neatly sliced in half at his feet, beginning to leak 
its red blood in a spreading puddle over the polished floor.
	He gaped at Raksha in utter amazement, then took a hasty 
step back from her.  Calmly she retracted her talons; she had no 
intention of using them on him.
	He looked down at the dead human and whispered, "What am 
I gonna do now?"
	"You might get someone to clean up this mess," Raksha 
suggested matter-of-factly, starting to turn away.
	"I mean, how am I gonna explain this to Megatron?" the 
green Decepticon called after her in despair, though she could not 
imagine why Megatron should care.

			* * *

	For the third time that day, Raksha revised her opinion of 
Megatron.  He *was* an overbearing bastard.  And completely 
irrational.  Why else would he be so angry over something so 
completely unimportant?
	"You useless waste of circuitry and scrapmetal!" he shouted at 
the green Decepticon, who cowered in wordless terror in the middle of 
the command center.  Others had come into the room as well, since 
Raksha had last been there, and were now watching with rapt 
attention, some with undisguised enjoyment.
	"I told you to put the hostage in a safe place," Megatron was 
ranting, "not parade around the Fortress with it!  Is it so *very 
difficult* to carry out my orders?  Do I have to do everything 
*myself*?!"  The powerful silver Decepticon's optics flashed brilliant 
scarlet, and his hands had clenched into fists.
	"I'm sorry," the smaller Decepticon whimpered, "I'm sorry, 
Commander--"
	"That you are, Scavenger," Megatron snarled.  "I've seldom 
seen a sorrier piece of work than you!"
	Raksha lashed her tail in annoyance.  The green robot, 
Scavenger, seemed to lack the killing edge of many of his comrades; 
certainly he was not up to Megatron's verbal assault.  Inexplicably she 
felt sorry for him, and somehow responsible for his plight.  With a 
swift movement she interspersed herself between Megatron and the 
trembling Scavenger.  "Leave him alone!" she hissed at Megatron.  
"He's done nothing wrong!"
	Megatron's wrath transferred smoothly over to her.  "I 
suppose *you're* qualified to make that decision?" he snapped 
sarcastically.  "You've been here a day and you've decided to take 
over?  Oh, just the way I like it."  He whirled away from her, his fiery 
gaze raking the surrounding Decepticons, who unanimously flinched 
back.
	Megatron turned on Raksha again.  "What were you 
thinking?" he demanded.  "*Were* you thinking?  That human was 
more good to us alive than dead--"
	"The only good human is a dead human," Raksha interjected, 
with an unwavering certainty in the face of Megatron's fury.
	From the ranks of the spectators, Starscream burst out 
laughing.  "Funny, but plenty of *humans* say that about *snakes*!"
	As one, Raksha and Megatron spun towards him, Raksha 
with bared fangs and Megatron with one fist raised in a clear threat.  
"You stay out of this!" Megatron commanded.  Starscream hurriedly 
decided that the front row was not such a good place from which to 
watch the spectacle, after all.
	Megatron returned his attention to Raksha, his eyes 
smoldering fury.  "You say you want to be one of us," he said 
contemptuously.  "You say you want to stay here.  Yet you've just 
single-handedly blown our best chance to reclaim the power plant with 
a minimum of damage.  I don't tolerate that kind of bungling!  
Furthermore I don't tolerate insubordination!  True Decepticon 
warriors don't just go off on their own and do whatever they feel like!  
What makes you think you can show up here and join us, anyway, 
some obsolete creature from a dead world--"
	Raksha gasped, as though the sharp pain caused by those 
words were a physical thing.  Half an hour ago he had seemed to 
understand her situation.  Now he was using it against her.  Unable to 
hear more, she turned and ran from the room.
	"Come back here!" Megatron bellowed in indignation.  "I'm 
not finished with you yet--!"

			* * *

	In times of crisis Soundwave often found himself torn 
between his primary function -- communications -- and his secondary 
function -- repairs.  Both were vital during battle, and Soundwave was 
an unquestioned expert in both fields.  It was difficult to say which he 
enjoyed more -- or, *would have* enjoyed more, were the 
circumstances different.  The two tasks reflected a duality in his nature 
that he had long come to accept -- that he was a being of destruction, 
and yet also a healer, depending on the recipient.  He supposed his 
parentage had prepared him naturally for playing a dual role -- he, 
created of a Decepticon scientist father and a Neutral Repairs-
Specialist mother, both now long dead and all but forgotten.  But one 
thing they had both imparted to him, and that was a sense of duty, of 
doing one's best in the situation at hand.  So, Soundwave stayed aware 
of where he was most needed, and moved back and forth between tasks 
as was necessary.  Earlier, when the Autobots were jamming all 
transmissions, he had been most needed at communications, to break 
their code.  Now, in the aftermath of the clash at the power plant, 
monitoring communications was a routine task which others could 
handle, and Soundwave was more useful in repairs.
	He'd gone up to one of the assembly labs on the fifth 
superlevel of the Fortress, to see how the manufacture of needed 
replacement parts was coming along.  Some two dozen technicians 
and repaireons scurried about the lab or crouched over delicate 
machinery.  Soundwave informed the ranking repaireon of the items 
that he intended to take back down to repair bay with him.  Most of 
those, he was told, were ready; the others would be a few minutes 
longer.  Nothing was needed critically at the moment, so Soundwave 
contented himself to wait and oversee the activity.  Slowly he moved 
around the perimeter of the lab, watching and occasionally checking a 
read-out on some of the more temperamental instruments in use.
	Over the hiss of blowtorches, clanging of metal, and whining 
of microblades, another sound caught his finely-tuned audio sensors.  
A metallic tapping sound, over by the open door.  He looked up and 
across the room as Raksha appeared in the doorframe, her clawed feet 
clicking softly against the floor.  Her gaze darted around the room and 
caught sight of him.  She started to step forward and then flinched 
back and away from the noise and activity.  With a series of rapid, 
jerky movements her head snapped from side to side as she stared 
around the lab, her plumes bristling and fangs slightly bared -- but 
none of the technicians noticed her, they were all too intent on their 
work.  It was the noise and bustle that was unnerving her, Soundwave 
saw, and was about to come towards her, when she seemed to make a 
decision and darted forward across the floor, between a number of lab 
benches, and came up beside him.  She spun to turn her back to the 
wall, looking out at her surroundings warily.
	"You were looking for me?" Soundwave inquired.
	"Yes," she said tersely, her optics still fixed on the activity 
before her, as though it would threaten her somehow.
	"They will not harm you," Soundwave assured her, with some 
amusement, though it was affectionate rather than malicious.  "Do you 
need something?"
	"Yes -- *no*," she amended quickly, still not meeting his 
eyes.  She was very tense, and clearly agitated, but seemed more 
interested in keeping the technicians at bay with her glares than in 
telling him about it.
	Soundwave sighed inwardly.  He played this guessing-game 
with his own creations all-too-often -- sometimes even, Cybertron help 
him, with Megatron.  "Something has upset you," he stated the 
obvious, hoping to lead into a conversation.
	"No," she snapped, lashing her tail.
	"You have had problems with someone," Soundwave 
persisted, as though he had not heard.
	No reply.
	He guessed at the most likely choice.  "Starscream."
	Raksha looked at him blankly.  Not Starscream, then.  The 
second-most-likely choice:  "Megatron."
	She bared her long, sharp fangs in a reverberating growl.
	"Right."  Soundwave took hold of her shoulders and steered 
her toward a nearby door.  It slid back at their approach to let them 
enter an auxiliary lab that adjoined the main room, currently dark and 
deserted.  Soundwave touched the light panel and slid the door shut 
behind them, blocking out much of the noise.  He leaned back against 
one of the lab tables and folded his arms, watching Raksha quietly.  
Her gaze darted around the room as though scanning for enemies; 
finding none, and away from the bustle of the main lab, she relaxed 
very slightly and turned her attention back to Soundwave.
	"I don't understand Megatron!" she exclaimed.  "He's angry 
because I killed a human -- a *human*!"  Her plumes bristled in 
indignation.  "I thought the humans were your enemies!"
	"The humans are nothing to us," Soundwave corrected.  
"They are beneath notice.  And yet, if you killed the hostage that 
Scavenger brought back, I can well understand why Megatron would 
be angry."
	Raksha looked at him as though he had just offered to run her 
through with a laser lance.
	"It is the Autobots' concern for their human allies that is 
useful to us," he explained.  "We could have used this particular 
human to negotiate for the power plant.  If you've gone and killed it ... 
well, the deed is done.  I should have seen that coming, considering 
the way you went after the humans in the Kytastion system.  Why is it, 
that you hate them so?"
	He kept his tone casually conversational, with just the right 
note of personal interest.  At least, that was the approach that worked 
on his creations.  He was a telepath, of course, and could pluck any 
thoughts directly from their minds -- but he found that it was much 
better for them to tell him themselves, and he preferred not to violate 
the privacy of their minds.  In Raksha's case, if he delved too deeply 
into her thoughts and spewed them back to her, it would undoubtedly 
shatter the fragile trust she was beginning to have for him.  So he 
waited, patiently, to see what she would tell him of her own accord.
	Seconds ticked by as she stared at him, the overhead lights 
catching in her lightless optics and reflecting back in an eerie 
fluorescence, so that her gaze looked all the more intense, all the more 
alien.  Soundwave thought that she trembled slightly as she stood.  Her 
rigid immobility shattered into sudden movement as she spun away 
from him with a snarl and raked one hand down the metal wall behind 
her, leaving three long gashes that barely missed the light panel.  She 
stalked away from him toward the window in the far wall of the room, 
and then back, stopping a few paces away.  Alien or not, her 
expressions were not so different from those of Transformers that 
Soundwave could not see the anguish in her eyes.
	"Soundwave," she said, and her voice was low and controlled, 
each word precise and intense, "I come from a planet that you, on your 
star charts, would call Gamma Reticuli II.  We called it --" here she 
made a short, melodic trilling sound that ended in a series of clicks.  
"The closest translation into your language would be ... 'Beautiful 
Rain'."  Her tail lashed, and her optics narrowed with pure hatred 
when she continued, "By the time the humans were through with it, 
the only rain that fell there was *poison*."
	She turned away from him and gripped the lab bench, 
digging her talons into the table top.  "They cut down, burned, dug up, 
and carried away the whole planet.  In its place they left black sky, 
scorched ground, toxic rivers.  Air that burned you from the outside, 
water that corroded you from the inside.  Diseased prey that passed its 
rot on to the predators, until finally there was no more prey.  We 
Plumed Serpents, who had always been strong and self-sufficient, 
solitary hunters, the top predators in our environment -- we had no 
jungle left in which to hunt, no shelters left in which to raise our 
hatchlings.  The last of us fed on each other at the end, feeding on the 
dead bodies -- like worms!"  Her voice rose into an anguished cry as 
she turned towards him, her fists clenched and shaking, her eyes full 
of fury and pain and accusation.  Her tail lashed as she calmed herself 
with a forcible effort and continued, softly and through clenched fangs, 
"They destroyed *everything*.  Nothing lives on the homeworld 
anymore -- nothing can ever live there again.  But some vengeance has 
been served, because I killed what humans remained, before I left."  
The bared fangs twisted into a grim smile; there was satisfaction in it, 
but no joy.  "And in all my travels, I have always killed humans, 
wherever I came upon them."
	Soundwave stood with her in silence for a while.  He had no 
solace to give, no words of comfort or common sense that would make 
the slightest bit of difference to Raksha, who had lived with this pain 
for centuries.  And yet, he knew that sometimes sharing the story 
could help, could put things in perspective and make things easier to 
deal with -- could, if nothing else, relieve some of the burden.
	"You have never spoken of this to anyone before," he said, 
and it was not a question.
	Raksha offered him her sharp-fanged, humorless grin.  "Who 
would I have spoken to?"
	He nodded in understanding; it had not been a question 
either.
	He brought a star map to mind with the location of Gamma 
Reticuli, and it confirmed what he'd already gathered: "You have been 
traveling for a long time."
	She tilted her head slightly in what looked like the equivalent 
of a shrug.  "A year -- a thousand years -- it's all the same to me.  My 
species didn't measure time as you do, as most species do.  In the 
jungle the days just melded into one another, and we went about our 
lives.  We didn't keep track.  Our years were centuries, our seasons 
were geologic eras.  That's why the humans were able to destroy us.  
Because we didn't realize what was happening.  Things don't change 
drastically in a matter of decades -- it just *doesn't happen*.  Not on 
our world, not in the natural way of things.  So we couldn't 
comprehend it.  We were still trying to figure out where the forests had 
gone by the time the earth started burning.
	"When I came up against other species in my travels, I had to 
adjust my thinking to account for rapid changes, to adapt to the 
unfamiliar.  It is ... still difficult."  She gestured vaguely at the door 
they had come through, at the strange, noisy laboratory behind it.
	Raksha's species had been immensely old, Soundwave began 
to realize -- with a lifespan that perhaps exceeded even that of 
Transformers.  And yet the whole vast span of her life had drifted by 
her like mere years.  She had been an elemental thing, a jungle 
animal, with no need to keep track of time's passage; she did not 
belong here, in this sudden, violent clash with technology and 
civilization.  Had he been wrong, to encourage Megatron to let her 
stay?
	No.  On closer inspection, there was little about Decepticon 
society that was terribly civilized -- Decepticons were elemental beings 
themselves, inundated in high-tech as they were, but still driven by 
their passions, still urged outward toward the stars by their battle-lust 
and desire for conquest, still subject to the most basic of survival 
instincts.  Perhaps Raksha was in the right place after all.
	Soundwave heard the approaching footsteps from outside the 
auxiliary lab, only a moment before Raksha did.  Together they turned 
towards the door as it slid back to reveal Megatron -- who looked 
distinctly displeased.
	Raksha's plumes bristled.  She gave a long high-pitched hiss 
from between bared fangs, like escaping steam.  It was a sound that 
was not supposed to come from a metallic life-form, and it gave 
Megatron just an instant's pause -- just long enough for Raksha to 
plunge for the window, shifting to serpent mode in mid-leap and 
shattering the glass, to soar away into the darkness of the city.
	"That ... *female* --" Megatron spluttered, recovering from 
his surprise almost immediately, "-- is never going to make a 
Decepticon!  It's not going to work.  When she comes back, *if* she 
comes back--"
	"She will return," Soundwave assured him.
	"Then you can send her right on her way again.  I don't want 
to see her again, do you understand?"
	"She told me what happened with the hostage--"
	"Yes, the hostage," Megatron fumed.  "Your alien friend is 
insolent, disrespectful, disobedient, and --" he looked at the shattered 
window, then touched the long gashes in the wall by the light panel -- 
"destructive."
	"Surely that last attribute is worthy of our kind?" Soundwave 
suggested.
	Megatron glared at him.  "Don't even start.  Don't even try 
it."
	"She does not mean to be disrespectful," Soundwave 
persisted.  "She does not understand what is expected of her.  
Everything is strange and new to her.  Give her the time to adjust.  
Give *me* the time, to teach her -- that there is such a thing as an air-
access portal, and that closed windows are not acceptable means of 
exit and entry."
	Megatron scowled at him a moment longer, but he couldn't 
help it -- he smiled, then laughed.  "Soundwave, you devious bastard," 
he chuckled, "you always know exactly what to say to get me out of my 
moods."
	Soundwave shrugged innocently; it was merely part of 
survival, here at the Black Fortress.
	"Why is it so important to you that Raksha stay with us, 
anyway?" Megatron asked.  "It's like you've adopted her, or 
something."
	Soundwave tilted his head and considered this.  "It is not an 
entirely displeasing prospect," he admitted, "to have a daughter 
again."
	Megatron met his gaze and held it.  The unspoken name hung 
between them ... *Selenia*....  "I see," Megatron said, looking away 
toward the shattered window.  He stepped over to it and looked out on 
the ruined city for a few moments, then turned back to Soundwave.  "I 
will give Raksha one more chance to prove herself," he decided.  "But 
*only* one.  Use the opportunity well."
	He left Soundwave alone in the empty laboratory.


			V.

	For the second time in as many days, Raksha found herself 
peering over the barricades at the looming towers of the power plant, 
across a plain littered with mangled Transformers and stained with 
fuel.  Around her, the entrenched Decepticon warriors held their 
positions, focused and motionless, while Megatron consulted with the 
field commander.
	"What's the position of Thunderwing's troops?" Megatron was 
asking the field commander, whom Raksha by now knew as 
Onslaught.
	"They encountered some resistance to the south," he replied, 
"but have made their way through it.  They'll be within range in seven-
point-five minutes."
	"And, have they divided into two units as I ordered?"
	"They have, Commander.  The first unit will circle around 
and attack from the west as you've directed.  The second -- is at your 
disposal."  Onslaught looked at Megatron questioningly, hoping for 
more information.
	He was not going to get it, at that point in time.  "Have the 
second unit hang back out of sensor range," Megatron said.  "For the 
moment, their task is to remain undetected.  When the first unit 
strikes, we will launch a full-scale frontal attack on the power plant, 
and try to trap the Autobots between us."
	"As you command, Megatron," Onslaught replied, bringing 
his right fist against his chest.  He began to turn away, then paused.  
"However," he added, "I believe there is a good chance the Autobots 
will be prepared for this maneuver."
	"Oh yes," Megatron replied with a dangerous gleam in his 
eyes.  "I have no doubt they'll be prepared for *this* maneuver.  But 
not for what I *really* have in mind!"
	Onslaught hesitated only an instant before nodding and 
moving away.
	Soundwave, who had been listening unobtrusively, motioned 
Raksha away from the barricade and stepped up to Megatron.  Raksha 
joined him, standing close to Soundwave.  He had made it very clear to 
her that she was to stay near him and out of trouble -- whatever 
"trouble" meant, among these heavy-metal war machines.
	"What is your true plan, Megatron?" Soundwave asked 
quietly.  "A direct frontal assault on the plant is a suicide run."
	"It will look that way at first," Megatron agreed.  "The 
Autobots will think I've simply lost patience, and intend to hurl 
warriors at them until we break through, and casualties be damned.  
But I'll have Thunderwing's second unit of troops in reserve.  Once the 
battle begins, I will evaluate the situation and direct them to their most 
useful position.  I've already sent Starscream to meet up with them.  
He'll lead them in a surprise air attack that should demolish the rest of 
the Autobot resistance.  We'll have our property back before the end of 
this rotation."
	He moved off down the line of waiting warriors, looking over 
their weaponry and judging their preparation for battle one last time.  
Soundwave and Raksha followed along, Soundwave carrying the bulky 
hand-laser that Raksha had seen during the last battle.  Raksha 
became distinctly aware that she had no long-range weaponry -- that 
she would not know what to do with such a thing, even if she had it.  
She was about to comment on this to Soundwave, when a series of 
muffled explosions went up from across the battlefield.
	"Megatron!" Onslaught shouted, running toward him.  
"Thunderwing's troops have arrived!"
	"I heard that for myself, Onslaught," Megatron replied.  
"Attack!"
	He rose up into the air, and from all around, Decepticon 
warriors rose up after him or rushed forward on foot or in ground-
vehicle modes.  Bright laser-lances of light sizzled through the air and 
toward the dark expanse of the battlefield, and the tempo of explosions 
jumped to a tenfold increase.
	"You remain here," Soundwave said to Raksha and soared 
upward, immediately lost among the crowd of other flying 
Decepticons.
	"Remain *here*?" Raksha echoed incredulously.  How was 
she supposed to help the Decepticons in their cause, if Soundwave 
didn't want her to join in the battle?
	She looked around, at the empty trenches and ambush-
positions that had just a moment ago been filled with warriors.  They 
were all on the plain below now, engaged in a melee that made 
yesterday's battle look like a play-squabble among hatchlings.  Raksha 
could not even make out individual robots anymore, amidst all the 
smoke and