Driver 3

Driver 3

Capture

A Transformers Prime FanFiction

     The Energon harvest was proceeding faster than the captain had hoped. They had a large stockpile stored on an island in a sea of saline water, and had begun moving the precious energy source to the ship. Holdfast was assisting one of the engineers in repairing a ruptured energon line when his comm. chimed.
     "Holdfast here."
     "Captain," Hardstrike's voice called out with a note of confusion. "I think there is a ship approaching the harvesting crews on the island…"
     "You think?" Holdfast stiffened as imaged of Decepticons descending on his crew flashed through his processor.
     "Yes, it appears to be primarily organic in nature with only thin copper plating covering the hull. It's definitely not spaceworthy. I think you should come look at this."
     The captain nodded and handed the spanner back to the crew mech. By the time he arrived on the bridge the strange ship was displayed on the main screen. Holdfast could understand his first officer's confusion. It looked like a ship from a distance, and a pretty little craft at that, but scans showed that it was nearly entirely composed of organic matter and possessed no mechanical means of propulsion. Closer inspection showed that the hull was open to the atmosphere in several places. It was currently coasting along the surface of the saline liquid.  
     "What is it?" a crew mech murmured softly. "A communications drone?"
     It did look that way, the captain mused. The ship's sensors weren't reading any lifeforms and the top deck was nearly completely obscured by three masts, each easily taller than the vessel itself, and their accompanying surfaces and cables. At the rear of the strange ship a red banner displayed a crossed pattern of red, white, and blue in one corner.
     "See if you can get a translation on their name," Holdfast ordered.
     "Captain?" Swiftped the science officer spoke up cautiously.
     "Yes?"
     "I think I may have to revise the statement that the vessel is unmanned."
     "Swiftped?" the captain asked with a furrowed brow.
     "I am reading distinct heat signatures moving about the ship proper and the rigging; which, judging by a comparison of the movement of the ship and the current atmospheric pressure gradations is far more likely to be,"
     "Swiftped!" Hardstrike barked out.
     "Oh, sorry sir. They're organic organisms," he explained more succinctly, "and the above deck rigging is the propulsion system, not communications."
     "Captain Holdfast," the communications officer piped up suddenly. "I have a partial translation on the name. The first three symbols appear to be some shortened designation but the main meaning is Resolution."
     "A stout name," the warrior responded approvingly. "Well, there is no need to be unfriendly with the natives. As they appear to have already noticed us we'll initiate contact. Hardstrike, you have the ship. I will take a small crew out in one of the scout ships to make first contact. It would be best to warn them about the Decepticons before they arrive. Speaking of which?" Holdfast turned to his first officer.
     "They are almost in orbit," Hardstrike answered. "I seriously doubt they will be able to bring the Viper into the atmosphere, but they will no doubt be sending transports to gather energon."
     "Most likely to steal what we have processed," Holdfast agreed. "Dreadlock never was one to condone honest work. The storage facilities on the island have been secured?"
      "Affirmative."
     "Very well then; keep a weather eye out for Con activity and let's go greet our hosts."
O
O
     Eleven Cybertronians were crowded into a landing pod as it burned through the upper atmosphere. Their mission was simple; drill through the bedrock and come up under the Autobot ship, attach certain devices to particular points on the underside of the hull, and then drill back to the rendezvous coordinates. The largest of the mechs sat in the center of the cluster planning out the operation. Sending out inquires on health and fitness over the bond and analyzing the results.
     The craft shuddered as they passed from one layer of atmosphere to another and armor struck armor as they rattled around in their harnesses.  The leader glanced in concern at the two smallest of the miners and wordlessly opened a compartment below his spark chamber. Both immediately unfastened their harnesses and climbed in; transforming as they did to fit into the compartment. The white mech's chestplates closed over them and he went on planning his attack.
     With a shriek the proximity alarms announced the imminent approach of the ground. The planning stopped. The lead mech briefly let his optics flicker over the faceplates of the remains of his crew. Eons of pain and grief were etched in those haggard mesh surfaces. Silently he sent a promise out over the bond they shared. He would keep them alive. In the past there had been more to the promise; freedom, honest labor, and hope. Now, survival was all the white mech dared propose, and even that seemed far too audacious most of the time.
     Each of the mechs went limp as the pod fired its thrusters one more time and crashed into the surface of the planet. The Cybertronians forced through the wreckage, preformed a quick maintenance check, and dove into the ground. The soil and permafrost around the wreckage suddenly heaved and split as the ground seemed to swallow the wrecked craft whole. Within moments there was nothing left to betray their presence save a slight disturbance in the tundra vegetation.
O
O
     Captain Holdfast strode back into his ship with a huge grin splitting his face plates. The first contact had been nearly perfect. The organic commander of the group, there was another ship in the convoy, had been pleasantly astonished at being addressed in his own language by the Cybertronians and was immediately curious and friendly. They were on a mission of scientific inquiry and exploration for their nation.  He had been concerned over their descriptions of the Cons, stating that they too were dealing with a rebellious faction.
     After a long and productive, if somewhat confusing, discussion, the organic captain had pledged to offer what aid he could to the Autobots. Holdfast had politely declined any direct assistance, explaining that there was less chance the Decepticons would target the humans, as they called themselves, if there was no obvious alliance but had left one of the more basic comm. units with the senior captain in case there was time for further contact.  
     The human captain had seemed especially curious about their navigation methods. Holdfast felt a slight twinge of guilt when he realized exactly how much time he'd spent merely chatting away with the human about the stars he'd visited, the very same stars his counterpart only knew as points of light used to guide their fragile wooden craft across the oceans of this planet. In turn the Cybertronian had crouched fascinated, listening to the organic explain how his people's knowledge of science and astronomy was growing daily, each new discovery leading to a dozen more questions. Despite having barely begun to master the archaic science of electric power the audacious little creatures were already dreaming of space travel. The majority of their machinery was still stream driven for Primus's sake.
     The captain glanced down at the little bundle of organic fibers he held in his servos. The 'book', a gift from the human captain, contained diagrams of the most advanced machinery this planet had to offer in the way of those steam engines. Fortunately despite, or perhaps because of, the primitive nature of this planet's technology the mobile machines were large; more than large enough to accommodate the frames of the warrior caste members of his crew.  It would be useful if the situation developed so they had to stay here for any length of time. Though he fervently prayed it wouldn't come to that. There was a war to fight, and first and foremost the crew of this ship were warriors.
     "Captain Holdfast," Hardstrike greeted him as the commander strode onto the bridge.  
     The commander noted the datapads in the EXO's servos and the attentive look on his faceplates. There were matters that needed his attention. Holdfast handed the book off to the science officer with instructions to scan it into the databanks and make certain the entire crew had uploaded at least one of the altmodes. The captain then turned his attention to the dozens of minutia that were required to run a ship.
O
O
     Joy, despite everything, joy. If there was one thing the mining multi-gestalts were experts at, other that mining of course, it was living in the moment. Right now they tunneled through the granite beneath the tundra, exhilarating in their own movement. For the moment they were free of the confines of the cursed Deception prison that was the Viper, free from the depraved attention of Airachnid, and doing the work they loved; the work they were designed to do.
     Silence was key to this particular mission. No easy task when you are drilling through rock. Each of the nine mechs were attuned to the gestalt bond, staggering the pace and position of their drills so that the reverberations canceled each other out. The mech in the center was producing a forcefield that further dampened the sound of their approach. It wasn't perfect, but the Autobot ship wouldn't know they had been there until the multi-gestalt was long gone. That was the plan at least, but eons of warfare had taught them that very rarely does anything go according to plan, so they simply enjoyed the moment.  
     The lead mech sent a ping out to the outliers to double check the actual noise they were making. The two smallest of the gestalt had each merged with one of their larger companions and were entirely focused on listening to every frequency. They reported back that levels were well within acceptable limits, and then sent back such a wave of glee that the lead mech would have smiled if he had a mouth in this form. Not that everything was perfect.
     The crust of this planet was far too brittle and frigid for the miners' taste. Designed to work in the metallic layers of Cybertron the rocky nature of most other planets had been difficult to master. The first soft yielding layers were full of organic fibers that snagged and caught in their servos and drills and water that seeped into every crack and orifice and stung any injury. At least the local mobile organic life had vacated the area at the sound of their drills so they didn't have to worry about attacks. The next layer was a nightmare of mineral and organic deposits that dulled their bits. When they finally did reach what passed for bedrock, a brittle blend of four minerals, at least the friction of their drills against the material kept the temperature at a pleasant level.  
     On their home world the consistency of every layer of the planet was known. Sometimes it took much researching to find that data that might easily be millennia old, but somebot, sometime in the past had surveyed that location before. Finding that data had been one of the burly white mech's tasks, therefore his processing capacity was programmed to be markedly higher than his brothers'. At times like this he envied their ability to ignore the harsh reality that awaited them all once they got back to the ship.
     For a moment the thought flickered across his processor. What if they didn't go back? Before it was even properly formed subroutines roared up from his subconscious and killed it. Over the gestalt bond the others only felt a sudden wave of urgency and they carefully accelerated. Airachind had made good and sure in her own way that he understood the consequences of defection.  
     The outliers signaled that they were approaching the target. Once they cleared the bedrock and came up into the pulpy over-layer the two smallest detached and scurried silently up onto the ship. They skittered about its hull placing the devices in the locations indicated. The rest of the gestalt watched fearfully. Even though they were all the same age the larger mechs felt protective of the little reconnoiterers.  They were small and swift and so painfully fragile.
     The bulky white one reviewed the data Airachnid had supplied him with on this particular Autobot captain. Holdfast was a sadistic brute who derived his greatest pleasure from torturing captured Cons, the smaller and more helpless the better. He kept the details to himself. It was difficult in a gestalt, and withholding anything from his brothers was painful in its own way, but serving Megatron and his lieutenants had led him to commit far worse crimes to protect his unit. Still he couldn't hide his fear for their brothers. Just as they were about to affix the last and largest package to the aft quarter the miner's fears were realized.
     "There! Capture the little scraps alive," a rough voice shouted, "Holdfast wants to interrogate them."
     The lead mech surged up towards the surface and with the speed of thought his gestalt brothers followed him. Before he breached the soil he felt the pain as the stun blasts caught the scouts. With a roar of rage he leapt out into the atmosphere and transformed into his bipedal mode. One mighty drill tipped arm plunged into the back of the green mech who was holding the two scouts. His brothers were engaging the three perimeter guards all around him. For one brief moment he thought they would make it; would escape with their lives together. The spongy ground was stained with the Autobots' energon and the multi-gestalt had yet to lose a drop. Then like a wave Holdfast was on them.
O
O
     Captain Holdfast glared grimly at the battered white mech kneeling in front of him. No less than six sets of stasis cuffs were required to restrain the Cybertronian whose frame had been designed to twist in and out of unimaginably tight spaces. Clear silver optics stared defiantly back at him, but the commander could sense fear behind that iron gaze; fear for his unit. Something the commander understood too well.
     The capture had not resulted in any deaths, mainly due to the fact that these Cons had no real weapons only unmodified mining equipment, but the cost had still been high. Even outnumbered three to one the Decepticons had put up a terrific fight. Their hides were far harder than was standard in a warrior mech, causing most of the Autobots ranged weapons to be useless and their blades only half effective. The difficulty was compounded by their fighting style. Typically among Decepticons there was a distrust and rivalry which impaired teamwork.  Even the gestalts displayed this when fighting individually. But the burly little cons had fought back to back without the slightest hint of disunion. More like Autobots than Decepticons, the captain mused with grudging admiration.
     But that battle skill had left two thirds of his crew causalities, with a full one third out of duty for the foreseeable future. Those who were undamaged were now busy tending the injured or pulling triple shifts to cover for downed crewmates. Cleftplate came in carrying the smallest of the Decepticons bound with silver confinement tape; their limbs too small for stasis cuffs.
     "So," the Autobot mused out loud. "What do I do with you?"
     Fear deep and primal flickered across the lead mech's faceplates and then was gone. Holdfast rubbed his brow ridges in exasperation. Whoever these Cons were they were terrified of him, and that fear was somehow connected with these two little ones.
     "Release them," he curtly ordered the CMO.
     Cleftplate nodded and retracted the silver bonds. The little ones hesitated and then darted over to their larger leader. With an astonished look at the captain the white mech opened his chestplates and the two transformed and darted into the cavity waiting for them. Silver optics studied Holdfast sharply now. The captain let the mech think for several clicks before speaking.
     "You are a mining gestalt from the Viper."
     The mech hesitated, but he could see no harm in answering the statement, and he could tell from the emotions coming over the gestalt bond that his brothers were by no means suffering the cruelty which Airachnid had taught to expect. He nodded uncertainly.
     "What is you designation?"
     Again the mech could see no harm in answering. If he kept talking maybe the Autobot would just offline them all together.
     "Miner lead mech 7.3."
     The captain arched an eyebrow at that. How was it that such a skilled and experienced soldier had not yet taken a name for himself?
     "Where is the rest of your unit?"
     "We are all here," the miner replied curtly.
     Holdfast glanced in shock at Cleftplate. The healer nodded and handed him a datapad displaying the eleven life signals pulsing in synchronization.
     "Only eleven left," the commander murmured amazed.
     He saw the battered white mech flinch and despite what this Decepticon had just put his crew through he felt a surge of compassion for the miner. Suddenly the other mech's face hardened and his silver optics sought Holdfast's gaze in determination.
     "I will make a deal," the Decepticon declared.