Yo, sister_dear! I has a Chase again!
Ha! I made it!
Title: Side Trip
Rating: PG
Warnings: Space pirates.
Summary: Just once, Chase would like a run to go the way it was supposed to. Today is not that day.
x-xxx-x
In some ways, life had gotten harder for Chase since the launch of the Allspark.
Cybertron was nearly dead, a ruined husk too far gone for even the scavengers. Luxuries - like a safe place to recharge and regular sources of energon - were few and far between.
But in other ways, life was better. His kind thrived on bringing material goods to those who needed them - and could pay. And now, everyone needed something. There was a buyer for everything, and a surplus of very little.
Chase wasn't particular, either. He traded to whoever could pay. The more desperate, the more likely they were to give him a deal. The Decepticons, having a tendency to range farther from Cybertron than the Autobots, often picked up unusual or strange trinkets and equipment, but were short on basic supplies. The Autobots had supplies, but had trouble getting a hold of the more uncommon gear and medical equipment. Chase fixed the imbalance, turning a tidy profit in the meantime.
Of course, both sides would be furious if they knew where the goods they were handing him would end up -
But they didn't really need to know, did they?
x-x-x
It had been a long run, and Chase was looking forward to touching down at the Autobot outpost. His fuel tanks were running low, and it was going to feel incredibly nice to recharge in a place where he wouldn't have to be watching his own back.
Besides, he'd made friends with a couple mechs out here, and they had a lot of catching up to do. Not to mention, things to sell, he thought smugly.
He skimmed the surface of the rocky moon, coming up on the base in his usual flight-path. It might increase the opportunities for ambush, but it also kept the Autobots from firing on him accidentally. Being shot by a client was just embarrassing.
“Chase to Autobot outpost, I'm incoming with your supplies,” he radioed cheerfully.
Silence.
“Chase to Autobot outpost. Yo, guys, grab a radio.”
Nothing. A twinge of worry made its way through his processor.
Something's not right here...
“Hey! Anyone home?” He was way past the perimeter sensors. Someone should have challenged him by now, or at least responded.
He banked around the hillside, the base coming into view as he leveled out.
The entire outpost was still. He could see lights through an open hanger bay door, but nothing was moving.
“Hangtime? Filch? Anyone?” Chase tried one last time. He landed outside the hanger, peering into the hanger cautiously. This is too weird. Where is everyone? Ah, well, one way to find out...
The hanger appeared to be empty except for a pile of open and empty crates to one side and the sort of equipment and gear one generally expected to find in a hanger. Shuttle's gone. A lot of dust, too. It's been gone a while.
Chase tried the door leading into the rest of the base, and was surprised when it opened. Light spilled out. Someone has to be home; they wouldn't leave everything just open like this, and the lights on to burn power.
Control room. Up this hallway, to the left. His footsteps echoed eerily, making his wings twitch in agitation.
The control room was open and empty. For the most part, the computer banks were idling, except for a blinking message on the communications station's screens. Chase edged into the room, looking around nervously. There was scuff marks on the decking where something heavy had stood until recently, but Chase couldn't visualize what had been there the last time he'd made a run to the outpost.
Giving another glance around the room, Chase stepped over to the comm station. Message recieved, it said. Chase frowned. It was dated five days before.
He hit the play button.
“This is Optimus Prime, and I send this message to all Autobots still alive amongst the stars...”
x-x-x
“Captain?” the pirate called across the bridge. “We've got activity at the mech base. Incoming radio signal, short-range.”
“Play it,” the captain grunted.
The pirate obliged. “Chase to Autobot outpost. I'm incoming with your supplies,” a cheerful voice rang out across the bridge.
The captain grinned viciously. This trip was promising to be even more profitable than he'd imagined...
x-x-x
Chase dropped into a chair in the rec room, frowning to himself. This doesn't add up. He'd combed through the entire base and had found no one - not that he'd expected to after hearing that message. After all, it was from Optimus Prime, Autobot leader and not a person the average Autobot would just ignore for five days.
That the entire base had been stripped of valuables hadn't escaped his attention either. Anything that had any sort of major worth on the interstellar black market was gone. The only valuable piece of equipment left on base were the computer systems, probably because they were built directly into the walls. Every single room had been opened and ransacked.
Except one. Chase had found an entire storage room filled with nothing but energon. Even if they had to abandon the outpost, they would have taken the energon. It was worth too much not to. Looked like a full shipment in there, too, minus maybe a few days.
To add to the mystery, not everything that was missing was the sort of thing one would grab if they were in a hurry. Some of it, like the missing equipment from the control room, was heavy and awkward to move. If they had time to take that, why hadn't they loaded the energon as well?
And considering the trade value of a single cube of energon, salvagers wouldn't have left such a haul behind.
He hadn't seen any signs of recent fighting, and a raid didn't fit the signs, either.
Chase had no idea what had occurred here, but he wasn't leaving until he found out what happened to his friends.
x-x-x
Chase was starting to hate mysteries. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was just his imagination, there seemed to be an almost sinister quality to the echo of his footsteps.
Why would they take everything but the energon? It doesn't make sense, unless... Unless they knew that it wasn't going to be worth anything!
Quickening his pace, Chase jogged back to the storeroom, snagging a cube of energon. Most of the lab and med bay had been stripped, but hopefully, all he was going to need was some of the very basic equipment.
Chase paced the empty medbay as the computer analyzed the energon. So what, the Decepticons poison the fuel, and... what? It had to be something that incapacitated instead of killing; Chase hadn't found any bodies.
But that didn't sit right, either. The Decepticons generally didn't pass up the chance to add insult to injury, but the base was, aside from the missing equipment, relatively intact. Whoever had done this had taken pains to leave nothing to identify themselves, where the 'Cons wanted the Autobots to know when they took out an outpost.
The computer beeped. Chase spun, almost tripping over his wings in his haste to get to the screen.
Contaminant detected.
And there it was. They contaminate the energon supply, and sweep right in when no one's looking.
Question is, who?
x-x-x
Well, well, coming back for seconds? Chase crouched next to the sensor array, using its energy signature to hide his own. The modified shuttle landed ponderously outside the hanger, cargo bay doors opening before it was even fully on the ground.
Chase leaned forward, focusing on the aliens that jumped out, armed with nasty-looking rifles.
Slavers, Chase thought with disgust. As a species, the H'nduk were renowned for their mercenary ways, but the real give-away was the weapons - specialized disrupters designed to take down and incapacitate a mech until he could be bound and caged for transport.
He waited as the captain stomped down the ramp after the others, barking orders. The slavers fanned out, searching the base. The captain warbled something, and stalked into the hanger behind his men. Two stayed behind, glancing around with disinterest. One sat on the cargo ramp, clawed toes tapping idly.
Chase shifted closer, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The creatures themselves were so much smaller than him that they really weren't any threat, but the weapons they held were a different matter all together. One good hit, and he would be down for the count and locked up in the hold.
Slowly, he worked his way along the roof, careful to keep from scraping his wings as he moved. The two sentries didn't even look up.
Chase paused at the edge of the hanger roof, listening hard, but the other pirates had moved out of audio range. Here's to nothing...
Chase sprang. The sentries shouted in alarm, instinctively diving out of the way as Chase landed between them. Smacking one out of the way with a wing as he turned, Chase dove into the cargo bay. He slapped the close button, charging up the hallway, past the ominous holding cells that lined the cargo bay.
Empty... they've already dumped them. Slag it!
The bridge was a tight fit and he scraped the edges of his wings squeezing through the doorway, but there was just enough room for him to crouch over the controls.
Outside, pirates shouted in anger as their ship powered up, lifting into the air without them. Anger turned to alarm as the ship turned ponderously, cannons charging with a rising whine.
x-x-x
Serves them right, Chase thought smugly, piloting the ship away from the base, and the melted wreck that was all that was left of the communications array. I’m sure the Decepticons will be by to investigate sooner or later; slaggers can try negotiating passage with them! And lookie, they were nice enough to leave me shipping records, too.
He knew where to find his friends, but even he wasn’t crazy enough to try that one on his own.
Luckily, I know right where to find reinforcements, he thought smugly, plotting a course for the little backwater planet Prime called “Earth.”
Title: Side Trip
Rating: PG
Warnings: Space pirates.
Summary: Just once, Chase would like a run to go the way it was supposed to. Today is not that day.
x-xxx-x
In some ways, life had gotten harder for Chase since the launch of the Allspark.
Cybertron was nearly dead, a ruined husk too far gone for even the scavengers. Luxuries - like a safe place to recharge and regular sources of energon - were few and far between.
But in other ways, life was better. His kind thrived on bringing material goods to those who needed them - and could pay. And now, everyone needed something. There was a buyer for everything, and a surplus of very little.
Chase wasn't particular, either. He traded to whoever could pay. The more desperate, the more likely they were to give him a deal. The Decepticons, having a tendency to range farther from Cybertron than the Autobots, often picked up unusual or strange trinkets and equipment, but were short on basic supplies. The Autobots had supplies, but had trouble getting a hold of the more uncommon gear and medical equipment. Chase fixed the imbalance, turning a tidy profit in the meantime.
Of course, both sides would be furious if they knew where the goods they were handing him would end up -
But they didn't really need to know, did they?
x-x-x
It had been a long run, and Chase was looking forward to touching down at the Autobot outpost. His fuel tanks were running low, and it was going to feel incredibly nice to recharge in a place where he wouldn't have to be watching his own back.
Besides, he'd made friends with a couple mechs out here, and they had a lot of catching up to do. Not to mention, things to sell, he thought smugly.
He skimmed the surface of the rocky moon, coming up on the base in his usual flight-path. It might increase the opportunities for ambush, but it also kept the Autobots from firing on him accidentally. Being shot by a client was just embarrassing.
“Chase to Autobot outpost, I'm incoming with your supplies,” he radioed cheerfully.
Silence.
“Chase to Autobot outpost. Yo, guys, grab a radio.”
Nothing. A twinge of worry made its way through his processor.
Something's not right here...
“Hey! Anyone home?” He was way past the perimeter sensors. Someone should have challenged him by now, or at least responded.
He banked around the hillside, the base coming into view as he leveled out.
The entire outpost was still. He could see lights through an open hanger bay door, but nothing was moving.
“Hangtime? Filch? Anyone?” Chase tried one last time. He landed outside the hanger, peering into the hanger cautiously. This is too weird. Where is everyone? Ah, well, one way to find out...
The hanger appeared to be empty except for a pile of open and empty crates to one side and the sort of equipment and gear one generally expected to find in a hanger. Shuttle's gone. A lot of dust, too. It's been gone a while.
Chase tried the door leading into the rest of the base, and was surprised when it opened. Light spilled out. Someone has to be home; they wouldn't leave everything just open like this, and the lights on to burn power.
Control room. Up this hallway, to the left. His footsteps echoed eerily, making his wings twitch in agitation.
The control room was open and empty. For the most part, the computer banks were idling, except for a blinking message on the communications station's screens. Chase edged into the room, looking around nervously. There was scuff marks on the decking where something heavy had stood until recently, but Chase couldn't visualize what had been there the last time he'd made a run to the outpost.
Giving another glance around the room, Chase stepped over to the comm station. Message recieved, it said. Chase frowned. It was dated five days before.
He hit the play button.
“This is Optimus Prime, and I send this message to all Autobots still alive amongst the stars...”
x-x-x
“Captain?” the pirate called across the bridge. “We've got activity at the mech base. Incoming radio signal, short-range.”
“Play it,” the captain grunted.
The pirate obliged. “Chase to Autobot outpost. I'm incoming with your supplies,” a cheerful voice rang out across the bridge.
The captain grinned viciously. This trip was promising to be even more profitable than he'd imagined...
x-x-x
Chase dropped into a chair in the rec room, frowning to himself. This doesn't add up. He'd combed through the entire base and had found no one - not that he'd expected to after hearing that message. After all, it was from Optimus Prime, Autobot leader and not a person the average Autobot would just ignore for five days.
That the entire base had been stripped of valuables hadn't escaped his attention either. Anything that had any sort of major worth on the interstellar black market was gone. The only valuable piece of equipment left on base were the computer systems, probably because they were built directly into the walls. Every single room had been opened and ransacked.
Except one. Chase had found an entire storage room filled with nothing but energon. Even if they had to abandon the outpost, they would have taken the energon. It was worth too much not to. Looked like a full shipment in there, too, minus maybe a few days.
To add to the mystery, not everything that was missing was the sort of thing one would grab if they were in a hurry. Some of it, like the missing equipment from the control room, was heavy and awkward to move. If they had time to take that, why hadn't they loaded the energon as well?
And considering the trade value of a single cube of energon, salvagers wouldn't have left such a haul behind.
He hadn't seen any signs of recent fighting, and a raid didn't fit the signs, either.
Chase had no idea what had occurred here, but he wasn't leaving until he found out what happened to his friends.
x-x-x
Chase was starting to hate mysteries. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that it was just his imagination, there seemed to be an almost sinister quality to the echo of his footsteps.
Why would they take everything but the energon? It doesn't make sense, unless... Unless they knew that it wasn't going to be worth anything!
Quickening his pace, Chase jogged back to the storeroom, snagging a cube of energon. Most of the lab and med bay had been stripped, but hopefully, all he was going to need was some of the very basic equipment.
Chase paced the empty medbay as the computer analyzed the energon. So what, the Decepticons poison the fuel, and... what? It had to be something that incapacitated instead of killing; Chase hadn't found any bodies.
But that didn't sit right, either. The Decepticons generally didn't pass up the chance to add insult to injury, but the base was, aside from the missing equipment, relatively intact. Whoever had done this had taken pains to leave nothing to identify themselves, where the 'Cons wanted the Autobots to know when they took out an outpost.
The computer beeped. Chase spun, almost tripping over his wings in his haste to get to the screen.
Contaminant detected.
And there it was. They contaminate the energon supply, and sweep right in when no one's looking.
Question is, who?
x-x-x
Well, well, coming back for seconds? Chase crouched next to the sensor array, using its energy signature to hide his own. The modified shuttle landed ponderously outside the hanger, cargo bay doors opening before it was even fully on the ground.
Chase leaned forward, focusing on the aliens that jumped out, armed with nasty-looking rifles.
Slavers, Chase thought with disgust. As a species, the H'nduk were renowned for their mercenary ways, but the real give-away was the weapons - specialized disrupters designed to take down and incapacitate a mech until he could be bound and caged for transport.
He waited as the captain stomped down the ramp after the others, barking orders. The slavers fanned out, searching the base. The captain warbled something, and stalked into the hanger behind his men. Two stayed behind, glancing around with disinterest. One sat on the cargo ramp, clawed toes tapping idly.
Chase shifted closer, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The creatures themselves were so much smaller than him that they really weren't any threat, but the weapons they held were a different matter all together. One good hit, and he would be down for the count and locked up in the hold.
Slowly, he worked his way along the roof, careful to keep from scraping his wings as he moved. The two sentries didn't even look up.
Chase paused at the edge of the hanger roof, listening hard, but the other pirates had moved out of audio range. Here's to nothing...
Chase sprang. The sentries shouted in alarm, instinctively diving out of the way as Chase landed between them. Smacking one out of the way with a wing as he turned, Chase dove into the cargo bay. He slapped the close button, charging up the hallway, past the ominous holding cells that lined the cargo bay.
Empty... they've already dumped them. Slag it!
The bridge was a tight fit and he scraped the edges of his wings squeezing through the doorway, but there was just enough room for him to crouch over the controls.
Outside, pirates shouted in anger as their ship powered up, lifting into the air without them. Anger turned to alarm as the ship turned ponderously, cannons charging with a rising whine.
x-x-x
Serves them right, Chase thought smugly, piloting the ship away from the base, and the melted wreck that was all that was left of the communications array. I’m sure the Decepticons will be by to investigate sooner or later; slaggers can try negotiating passage with them! And lookie, they were nice enough to leave me shipping records, too.
He knew where to find his friends, but even he wasn’t crazy enough to try that one on his own.
Luckily, I know right where to find reinforcements, he thought smugly, plotting a course for the little backwater planet Prime called “Earth.”