He let out a string of curses in various languages as he saw their quarry make a mad dash for the ridge they had blasted them off of. They couldn't be allowed to escape; if there were more of them, his job would be much harder if they had advance warning. His troops were firing on the robots, but the things were apparently quite used to evading hostiles. A few clear shots, that was all he needed... and he knew how to get them.
Barking out a few orders, he abandoned his position and quickly circled around his troops, scaling the crumbly surface of the incline with uncanny ease and speed. Within a few moments, he was slightly above the robotic creatures and he chuckled softly. Oh they were fast, he had to admit, but their progress was hindered by the steady stream of energy bolts raining down upon them.
He layed his weapon in the crook of his arm and took careful aim, following his prey's erratic course with deadly expertise. As per his orders, as soon as his second saw him in position, the firing ceased and had a perfectly clear area in which to take the things down. He wasted no time acquiring a target and prepared to fire a shot that would take its head off. Then, just as before, he felt the energies around him shift suddenly and his target skidded to a halt, much to the shock of its two teammates. His own eyes went wide as the thing immediately locked its gaze on his position. So he hadn't been mistaken. It was a Seer, and given the chaotic state of the energies, an inexperienced one at that.
"I have you now, little one." And he fired. A split second later, a loud cry of pain echoed through the night.
Under normal circumstances, a simple loss of communications wouldn't be something to worry over too much. Experience, however, had quickly taught Optimus that normal circumstances did not exist on this planet, and nothing was ever simple. So it was that he sped towards his teammates' last known position, all the while feeling the anxiety gnawing at his insides like some hungry animal. All of his instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong-- terribly, terribly wrong. Any commander, military or otherwise, learns to trust such 'hunches' when they come and Optimus Primal was no exception.
At long last, he reached the barren, rocky territory of grid nine, and set down on the remains of the very ridge Rattrap, Cheetor, and Silverbolt had been attempting to scale.
And learned that his 'hunch' had been a criminal understatement.
In later days Cheetor would often remember that moment. He would remember the chill that raced through him, the certainty that there was something deadly behind the sudden cessation of enemy fire. He would remember the strange feeling that caused him to look up-- into the face of their would-be killer.
"I have you now, little one." The voice, like nails on a chalkboard, slithering through his mind and dripping with menace.
And then the creature fired.
Rattrap had never had a chance. He cried out in agony as the bolt seared through his chest, leaving nothing behind but a hissing, smoking hole. The small Maximal dropped to the ground and lay alarmingly still, the light of his optics flickering in and out.
"Rattrap!" As Silverbolt rushed to their comrade's side, Cheetor whipped around and fired in one blindingly fast movement. The green glow of his laser struck the position of the sniper with perfect accuracy Cheetor felt a grim thrill of satisfaction as the creature tumbled to one side, sliding down the incline a few feet before managing to stop itself.
"Let's see how you like it ya lamer!" he shouted, firing again as he spoke.
Optimus watched in mute horror as Rattrap was felled by a burst of glowing energy. What were those things? He watched as Cheetor furiously fired on their attacker's position, flushing him/her/it out fairly quickly. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next, however. Cheetor aimed and loosed a volley of laserfire that struck the creature in the direct center of its chest-- a shot that should have dropped it like a stone. Instead, to the Maximals' collective shock, the energy of Cheetor's weapon merely rippled across the thing's body, seemingly absorbed by its very skin.
Optimus stood rooted to the spot for a moment, before he noticed several other figures stealthily closing in on his team's position. They had to get out of there... now.
"No way," Cheetor gaped. Granted, he didn't have the most powerful weapons on the team, but he hadn't even phased their attacker. In fact, the sniper seemed amused more than anything else. It glared down at him, and despite the distance between them, Cheetor was sure it was smirking at him.
"Cheetor! Come on, we have to get Rattrap back to the Axalon." Silverbolt's voice drew his attention away from the alien and back to Rattrap's dire condition.
"How're we gonna carry him?"
"I'll take care of Rattrap, you two get yourselves in the air before that thing's friends decide to crash the party," a new voice interrupted, one Cheetor didn't think he'd ever been so glad to hear.
"Big Bot!" Cheetor called in relief as Optimus set down beside Rattrap and Silverbolt. The Maximal commander wasted no time in scooping Rattrap's limp form up into his arms.
"Talk later, right now let's get out of here!" With that, Optimus leaped into the air again, closely followed by Silverbolt. Cheetor transformed and took off as well, but paused in the air to glance back at the sniper. The alien was making no move to stop them; in fact, it was waving its comrades back. As if it didn't matter that they were escaping. As if the aliens had all the time in the world to hunt them down.
As if they knew there was no escape.
Some time later, Cheetor sat staring at the CR chamber Rattrap occupied, an abnormally intense expression on his face.
Your fault. A tiny, nagging voice rose up in the back of Cheetor's mind, barely more than a whisper, and yet completely impossible to ignore.
It was your fault. You saw the sniper.
No, I didn't mean for it to happen!
But it did happen-- and you didn't do a thing to stop it! You saw him and you froze. You could have prevented it!
Please-- I'm sorry.
Your fault, all your fault. Cheetor groaned and buried his face in his hands, not wanting to have to look at the CR chamber anymore. All the while, the tiny voice inside of him continued to mock him, taunt him, berate him.
You froze. You could have saved him and you froze.
Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut UP!
What was happening to him? Every time he let his focus drift even the slightest bit, he was assaulted with images he had never seen, sounds he had never heard. That was the real reason he hadn't called out to Rattrap and Silverbolt; in the instant he had spotted the alien, he had suddenly heard nothing but screams. Cries of pain, cries for help, and beneath it all the horrible roar of flames.
Seer, the Guardian had called him over and over, but what could that mean? So he had vivid dreams, so what? It didn't mean anything... it didn't.
Explain it then, hotshot. Explain the fire, the shadows, explain why you let Rattrap get hurt.
"I can't! I don't know what's going on!"
It took him a moment to realize he had screamed the words aloud. He glanced around apprehensively, fearing that someone had heard him, but Optimus and the others were apparently still discussing the afternoon's encounter elsewhere. His gaze settled on the CR chamber once again and a tremor ran through his body.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
There was no one to hear his quiet apology though, no one save the small part of him that screamed out that he was to blame.
They had set up camp quickly, securing their position with practiced ease. Silently, they patrolled the perimeter, ready to spring into battle at a moment's notice. At the foot of the alien portal, one of the creature's worked frantically to establish a communications link with the rest of their forces, his actions giving away no hint of the agitation he was in. The robotic beings they had encountered had been driven back easily enough, but the battle was far from over. Surely they had reinforcements at this 'Axalon' the winged one had spoken of.
And there was still the matter of the Seer. Once the alien had realized the true nature of the robot, he had been elated at his good fortune. To have found an actual Seer on his first mission... if he could capture such a prize for the Overlord, the rewards would be fantastic! As the alien prepared to amke his report, the part of him that was a husband and father before a soldier allowed itself a flash of pity for the Seer. He was no expert in such matters, but even to him it had been painfully obvious the Seer was young and inexperienced, with little or no control over his gift. He would be easy prey for the Overlord. Still, whatever pity he felt was drowned out by his sense of duty. The robotic creatures would undoubtedly oppose them, though all they could hope to receive for their efforts was a relatively quick death. As for the Seer...
Well, some things were worse than death.
"What in blue blazes? Hey Sugarbot, y'all better be takin' a look-see over yonder."
Blackarachnia bit back a sigh as she came up behind Quickstrike. Sometimes she wondered if Quickstrike himself really had any idea what he was saying. Still, it was getting easier to understand his strange speech. She hadn't yet decided if that pleased or disgusted her. For perhaps the tenth time in as many cycles, she wondered just what god of fortune she had so offended that she deserved 'Pecos Bill' as a patrol partner. Especially so far into Maximal territory. The energy readings Tarantulas had detected had better be important or she'd... well it wouldn't be good. Or painless, for that matter.
"Oh, what is it, you--" the scathing insult died on her lips as she peered over the Fuzor's shoulder and saw just what had gotten him so excited. "Well, looks as though the trip was worth it after all."
It stretched out Its senses, questing for the invaders. They were still attempting to gain a strong foothold in the area and if they succeeded, they would be all but impossible to drive away. By the gods, but It had wanted to help the Seer and his friends; It had wanted to reach out and smash the fiends; It had wanted to tell them precisely how to deal with this menace. It hadn't dared reveal Its presence to the aliens though, not even to the mere soldiers. Even now, It wasn't sure how much longer It could hide from them. As unobtrusively as possible, It 'listened' to the transmission being sent back through the portal, hoping against hope that It was wrong, that there was another way. Its hopes were quickly doused by the plans the aliens were making. There was only one thing left to do, though It was loath to even consider the course of action It had to take. It would mean sending one of Its children straight into the proverbial lion's den.
Gods forgive me, this is the only way. Oh please, have mercy on them.