FREELANCE

*This story begins slightly before Prime and Megatron arrive on Cybertron in Dark Horizon*

As another of Salo Four’s cold sulphurous rains fell, two cloaked figures hurried though another of the icy world’s world’s many refugee camps. In the hard glare of one of the scattered sodium lights the glint of metal could be seen from under their hoods. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper increased their speed slightly to limit their time in the light. Transformers were not overly welcome on this world’s swollen population of escapees from the grasp of the Cybertronian Empire. But that was why they were here. There had to be those who knew something of the Empire’s workings here among the hordes of organic and mechanical lifeforms huddling on Salo’s rancid surface.

Prior to Jhiaxus’ purge of non-Transformer life several races had managed to eke out an existence in the Empire’s shadow. Those who had previously managed to grovel, remain unnoticed and be of at least some temporary use had come flooding out of the fringes of the Empire’s space in hopes of staying in front of the crest of the Liege Centurio’s wrath.

Bumblebee and Cliffjumper came to Salo Four, the largest gathering of refugees, in hopes of finding something, anything that would aid the Alliance in their struggle against their descendants.

Unbelievably Salo had the most welcoming environment of the refugee worlds. Most had been chosen for their undesirability in hopes of being ignored by the world hungry Empire. But for Salo though truly unpleasant as it was had been chosen due to its proximity to several major shipping lanes. It was simply the least desirable habitable world in range when the fragile escape craft ran low on fuel or luck. Most never left as the planet was barren of almost any resources. Bumblebee and Cliffjumper had just finished the fruitless task of investigating the various communities of organic lifeforms. Those who would speak to them knew very little of the Empire as they had spent most of their time staying out of sight as the Cybertronians had no use for any organic life, except as target practice when they became annoying. The rest fled in terror at the sight of a metallic face.

So now they were headed out to the second group of mechanoid camps. They had gleaned a few bits and pieces from the communities around what served as Salo’s spaceport and hoped to find more out here. They were passing through the outskirts of a camp which they had been told was largely populated by survivors of the mechanoid planet of Scarvix. It had been a world of hustlers black-markets and criminals. Bumblebee was optimistic that if former Empire collaborators were to be found anywhere it would be here.

“Tell me again the reason why we have to wear these cloaks Bumblebee?” grumbled Cliffjumper.

“Because everyone here is terrified of Transformers,” replied Bumblebee tiredly.

“Bumblebee, I hate to say it but we could hardly be called frightening...”

“Still we don’t need to stir things up unnecessarily.”

“Meaning that we avoid getting our skid plates kicked in by refugees angry at Transformers,”

“Exactly! And as a plus they keep the acid rain off,” added Bumblebee trying to get Cliffjumper off of a track he’d been returning to again and again over the last few days. He’d much rather have Cliffjumper grumble about the weather. That he could ignore far more easily.

“I still don’t like it, why are we on this mission....?”

Bumblebee fought down a sigh. “Because as Prime said –“

”I know I know, we’re non-threatening. The refugee’s are more likely to talk to us. I suppose it beats hanging around on Cybertron trying desperately not to spit lubricant at every ‘Con who looks at me t-- oof!”

In greyed green light of the rainstorm Cliffjumper and Bumblebee had missed the tall dark figure until Cliffjumper walked right into it. Just as Bumblebee looked up to get a better look at who or what they had run into, the figure, dressed in a long tattered coat, spoke.

“You’ll be getting out of my way, yes?”

In a scene out of an Earthen movie, lightning flashed as the stranger finished, illuminating the jagged metallic features of his skull-like face.

“Oh no.....”

“Ah you know of me I see? Do not worry, my purse has not felt a credit in a long time, yes? Now you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do....”

Without another word the powerful mechanical figure walked off into the night.

“Who the heck was that, and why are you shaking like you got a gyro loose? He ran into me by the way. Bumblebee?”

The small yellow Transformer stood as if transfixed on where the stranger had vanished into the murk.

“Just give me a minute...” he replied distantly.

“For what?”

“You don’t know who that was...”

“No I didn’t, wh–”

“You remember the whole Galvatron mess?”

“How could any of us forget. Plus I still get headaches from all that time travel scrap. I’ve burned out valuable circuits thanks to you and your thoughts on the whole mess.”

“Well he is one part of that whole mess. Or rather another version of him was.”

“You’re not going to do this to me again are you?”

“Hey you’re the one who ran into him,” Cliffjumper stayed sullenly silent so Bumblebee went on. “His name is Death’s Head. The Death’s Head I knew was a bounty hunter from the alternate future where Galvatron came from, the one that used to be our future. He came back to our time to collect a bounty that the future Autobot leader –“

”I know the whole Rodimus thing,” interrupted Cliffjumper.

“Alright already. Well Galvatron had disappeared after returning to his future from his first time jump. As we know he came back to our time and Death’s Head followed. I had the misfortune of being there when he showed up. He blew me to bits.”

“Well that explains the ‘oh no’. I remember now. That was when you got rebuilt into Goldbug.”

“Yup. Rodimus came looking for Galvatron and Death’s Head. Everybody but Galvatron got sent back and that’s the last I saw of Death’s Head. Now since that future can’t be ours anymore what with Unicron coming way too early, this Death’s Head has never gotten involved with us and has no idea who we are.”

“So what makes him so important?”

“He held his own against Galvatron and lived. And Rodimus happened to mention that he beat the stuffing out of Cyclonus and Scourge to find out where Galvatron was.”

“Oh... You said he’s a bounty hunter. What good is that to us, unless he’s got some information.”

“I’m sure he does but I’ve got another idea... I just want to send a message to Prime and see what he thinks...”

“I still don’t believe it!”

“Hey you were standing right beside me when Prime agreed with my suggestion,” Bumblebee replied to an incredulous Cliffjumper as they walked back through the rain to the Scarvix camp.

“Aside from how nuts the whole idea is, I’m having a little trouble seeing you come up with it. And then having Prime take it even further.”

“Well, you should know as well as any of us, things have changed. The old rules don’t apply anymore. Could you have imagined us in an alliance with Megatron before everything that’s happened in the last two years?”

“Not really but hiring a bounty hunter to take out enemy leaders on the slim hope of starting a civil war? It just doesn’t sit right.”

“You were there for it all. Have you forgotten the desolated worlds? The blackened cities? Everyone who died when we first faced these monsters?”

“Now hold on! Like you said I was there. Do you think I could have forgotten? Do you?”

Cliffjumper stopped and grabbed Bumblebee by the shoulder.

“We all went through it all. I know things have changed, but I didn’t think we had. At least not this much.”

“I’m sorry Cliffjumper it’s just that...You were with us in those last few months on Earth before we left, right? I’m sure it hit you like it hit me how much damage we’ve done to that world.. The others, who weren’t with us on the Ark I don’t think would feel it as much as we do... But there’s something you weren’t there for.”

“When Prime went down after bringing back so many wounded I slipped off on my own for a few days. I went back to Portland, back to Mount St. Hillary where it all started for us and Earth... You see no one had thought about the first humans who we got involved in our war. Actually I’m sure Prime had but he had too much to worry about. Maybe Wheeljack too but he was busy with the rebuilding efforts and Ratchet would have... Anyhow, when Fortress Maximus died I’m sure most of us forgot that a human named Spike Witwicky died too. We may be used to death but I’ve seen how humans are broken by it. You remember Spike’s brother Buster and his father. They didn’t know Spike was dead. Someone had to tell them.”

“It was me in the first place who got Buster involved with us and that got Spike involved. I know we never forced either of them into it but... Well when I gave them the news.... I’m still haunted by the expression on Mr. Witwicky’s face. I’ve kept tabs on Earth and I know that he died not too long ago and he wasn’t all that old for a human... And Buster, I don’t even know what it did to him... Anyways after I left I began to realise what the effect of the deaths of all those humans was. Just what we had done. Then I looked at the Decepticons around us and I looked at Megatron. We have joined with him, the one Maximus and Spike died trying to stop... And it made me realise just how much things had changed and just how crucial it is that we... put our house in order.”

Cliffjumper stared in stunned silence at his friend, who he thought he had known so well and though of the war he also had thought he had understood so well.

After a moment he just nodded and said, “Things have changed.”

Bumblebee stood there for a while longer and then smiled weakly, “Yeah but the rain sure hasn’t.”

“Then lets get going.” Cliffjumper paused to inspect the growing holes the acid rain had burned through his cloak. “ I may not shriek over every smudge to my finish as much as Tracks does but acid burns make me look bad.”

Bumblebee smiled a little more broadly as the two Autobots walked off in the direction which Bumblebee hoped would lead them to Death’s Head.

It had been a bad few years for the freelance-peace keeping agent. Death’s Head had just gotten himself nicely established on Scarvix and was making a name for himself in the region (a few off world contracts here and there) when the Galaxy decided to explode.

An unusually long range job to the edge of Fahl space had, while paying quite well, effectively ruined any other business plans Death’s Head might have had. Arriving at his destination, it seemed his target’s organic world was in the process of being purged and converted into a totally mechanical one. ‘Huh, not exactly the sort of thing to make a job easier.’ Just the sort of thing to ruin a freelance peace-keeping agent’s day.

Death’s Head had considered dropping the whole thing there but a contract is a contract and his client happened to be the head of one of the largest criminal organizations in the sector. ‘One doesn’t win a client like that every day.’ Sighing over the whole mess he went in. To his good fortune the target lived on the side of the planet which was still free (for all of a few hours at least). Death’s Head’s luck lasted even as far as finding his target cowering in an underground bunker where the other surviving government officials of the region had fled. The poor fool cowered even more when the steel hard ceramic shell of his bunker caved in. You would’ve thought he would have preferred the transforming mechanoids who had already butchered half his planet. Then again considering what his client did with the brains of all his puppets who refused to stay bought, one could not blame him.

All went well (for Death’s Head at least) until just after he had the unwise politician’s brain pod and three hearts in storage (what did organics have with circulatory pumps?). It was right about then that the Universe decided to spite him.

After quite nicely dancing around the giant warships in orbit on his way in, he had the wonderful misfortune of having his flight path intersect that of some foolhardy escapee from the planet. The pursuing attack craft decided he’d provide better sport and two of the three predatory vessels came after him.

Through a little trademark guile he destroyed one in a nearby nebula but the other was a different story. It dogged him through three star systems hoping to wear Death’s Head down, knowing it had more fuel than he did. It was right.

As he ran out of fuel Death’s Head pulled into orbit of a small moon and using the small world as a shield from his hunters’ sensors he set his craft on a collision course for the mechanoid ship. They got a nice little surprise when they came into orbit. They fired and destroyed Death’s Head’s ship, but at such close range that the blast forced them to put down on the moon for repairs. Death’s Head was of course not on the ship at the time but had used his escape pod. To make the deception complete he hooked up the poor politician’s brain to the computer to give a false life sign reading. So as the mechanoid crew set down thinking themselves rid of their prey Death’s Head made ready to pick off his pursuers one by one. They were unusually tough, fighting to the last and even figuring out his deception before he got the last of them.

So as he flew away from the moon (he had let the crew repair their ship before he killed them of course) Death’s Head had been rather satisfied with himself. Though he had lost his target’s brain he still had the hearts as proof, and he was sure he could force his client to give him a bonus for hazardous conditions. Then there was the marvellous ship he had. He was sure he could sell it at a rather nice price (it was too large for his purposes) and he had stored the full schematics of all the technology aboard safely away in his head where he could use them in the specifications of his new ship.

On top of it was the priceless information he carried. He would pack up everything on Scarvix and happily move to the opposite side of the Galaxy. A small inconvenience as he would loose his customer base, but it ensured his survival and he was sure with the ship and the mechanoid corpses as proof he could sell the secrets of this Empire at a tidy profit to any number of governments on his way out.

Death’s Head had seen from the assault on his target’s world that this was a race of transforming robots of extreme power. They had given him a good run and there weren’t many that could do that. He’d heard vague rumours of such a race of Transformers on a rogue world he had heard called Cybertron but nothing like this. He knew such forces as those he had encountered came not from a single world. The data from the ship confirmed it. He most certainly was planning to move far beyond the reach of this Empire.

But Death’s Head didn’t get the chance. The Universe, perhaps sensing his smugness had decided to play another trick on him. He would find out later that the Empire had been rather badly stung in the weeks between leaving the target’s world and his getting back to Scarvix. No one knew exactly what happened but something enraged this Empire into a pogrom against all life that was not their own. Some said something of rebels from within the race itself who had irked the Empire’s general into the rage which had consumed nearly half the Galaxy.

Whatever the reason, Death’s Head returned to a Scarvix under siege. Even worse, the first assault had landed near the city where his office was. ‘Teach me to leave all my money in one place, eh?’ That city upon his arrival was a smoking ruin, heralding the near future of the rest of the planet. Quickly deciding to cut his losses and run for it Death’s Head found himself cheated again.

He was caught by a party of patrol ships who decided he looked suspicious. ‘Was going the wrong way for an attack ship’. The patrol vessels demanded security codes. He swiftly pulled out the only one that had been amongst the ship’s data, only to be sneered at by the other ship’s captain. “You Autobot scum should have learned,” he was been told before he found himself under a withering barrage from the lead ship.

Fortunately this Empire built it’s ships well so he only lost his weapons. That was one small mercy in the whole mess. The only one. He got as far as the outer part of the system before he heard over the intership radio (that he had tapped into of course) that some alert crew member had scanned his ship and found out he wasn’t one of these Autobot’s they had though him. All the ships left except one who was given orders to destroy the “space garbage”.

Death’s Head had been lucky the first time, (though given how things had gone that was rather debatable) the second time he didn’t get away. He was forced to shut himself down and throw himself out the ship’s waste disposal cute strapped to a rocket pack. When he awoke to his preprogrammed activation sequence he found himself in the middle of a field of debris with his rocket pack leaking fuel. He had kept the pack just in case he ever had to bail out... in just such an occasion. ‘My programmer told me always to prepare an escape for all circumstances, yes?’. He had just enough fuel to almost make his way to one of the local shipping lanes. He’d have to drift the rest of the way and hope some ship would come along that wasn’t from the Empire.

Six months later, Death’s Head got his wish. He got dropped off on this freezing, acidic lump of rock along with the other refugees the derelict vessel had been carrying. Now as Death’s Head stood in front of his nearly complete ship, a product of two and a half years of effort he cursed his luck for the millionth time. He wished he’d never heard the name Transformer. That was the moment when the pitiful sensor net around his large metal fibre tent (the product of many smaller emergency structures he had bartered for and ‘borrowed’) actually decided to function and notify him of the presence of two strangers.

Bumblebee and Cliffjumper stared at the large composite structure that they had been told was Death’s Head’s personal sanctuary. The heavily corroded metal fibre fabric of several emergency shelters formed easily the largest structure in the area. The rain rolled sullenly off of its muted silvery green surface, almost giving it the appearance of something organic. There wasn’t much else in the immediate vicinity, except the ever present crumbling shale and slime. It seemed the inhabitants of the Scarvix camp knew well enough to stay away.

“So do you want to be the one who knocks on the door?” Bumblebee asked Cliffjumper.

“Hey you’re the one who knows him,” replied Cliffjumper uneasily.

“That was another Death’s Head. This one sounds a bit more grumpy.”

“Hey I would be too if I was trapped here. How do you suppose he built this thing? There can’t be too much call for a bounty hunter here,” added Cliff jumper absently.

“I told you, Cliffjumper you don’t call Death’s Head that– ”

”At least not twice, eh?” came a hard but well oiled voice from behind them.

Bumblebee and Cliffjumper turned around swiftly to see Death’s Head standing nonchalantly in the rain. He was gingerly cradling his right arm which now ended in a gleaming, wickedly curved axe.

“Should listen to your yellow friend ‘Cliffjumper’.”

Bumble paused for a few moments more before speaking. Cliffjumper mercifully stayed quiet. “We’ve come... We’ve come in the name of the--”

”Think you’ll find you’ve come to the wrong place. For a Transformer at least.”

“How–”

“Huh, maybe poor now but I still have my precautions. Can’t say the others were like you. Disappointed, eh?”

“Hey, we may be small but–” Cliffjumper stepped angrily towards Death’s Head only to be stopped by the tip of the axe microns from his optics.

“Not wise for little ones to act too tall, yes? Now–” he paused moving his axe ever so slightly away from Cliffjumper’s face, “–you’ll understand if I hate to ruin such a nice shine. So step inside and you can tell all about what you’ve come for.”

“Certainly,” Bumblebee replied and continued silencing Cliffjumper with a stare. “But what my friend was going to say is that we have dealt with a number of these other Transformers in our time and we have taken care of far more them than you can count.”

Death’ Head just laughed at the small yellow robot’s serious expression. ‘Clearly believes his words, he does.’

“Like you, yes?” Death’s Head responded and calmly walked in between the two and on to the door of his shelter. “Always wanted lawn sculptures but not ones like you, huh. Some actually like the rain here though, “ He said as he entered the large tent while Bumblebee and Cliffjumper looked at each other.

“Why do I think we’re only going to get trouble from this, “grumbled Cliffjumper, being the first to speak.

“Hey there are plenty of things we know that he doesn’t. Though I will say you’ve got to learn to quit flinching at stuff that won’t hurt you anymore.” added Bumblebee placing his confidence in his rheanimum strengthened skin.

“Are you so sure?” replied Cliffjumper skeptically to Bumblebee’s tone of confidence.

“I hope so,” said Bumblebee, his face collapsing in doubt. “Lets go.”

“Decor’s not pretty but neither am I, eh?” professed Death’s Head as the two Autobots entered his shelter. The two of them nearly dropped their jaws when they saw what the dilapidated outside had concealed. A nicely proportioned single occupant ship stood in the middle of the dark cavernous structure. The small but functional looking vessel was washed in the icy light of several of sodium emergency lamps. Death’s Head noting Cliffjumper’s frown of disapproval said, “Neighbours moved away when I took up residence. No one else using the lights, yes? Couldn’t allow such waste.”

Cliffjumper just nodded.

“Impressed, huh? Not like I had much else to do,” Death’s Head announced in response. He stood in front of a small ramshackle desk.

“And I take it they gave up their tents just as readily...” added Cliffjumper cynically.

“Be surprised how people go back into their old habits, yes? Just part of my fee since there isn’t much else here to pay with, eh?”

“Well I suppose no one has need of a tent after they happen to wind up on your list,” replied Bumblebee flatly.

“Don’t look down so, eh? You’ll see very little... No police here, so there’s much need for a freelance peace-keeping agent, yes?”

“Which explains where you got the parts for this ship,” added Bumblebee as Death’s Head sat down in a rather rickety looking chair behind the desk and proceeded to put his feet up.

“Concerned citizens groups can be most generous. Doubt you came all the way here to scold me, though?”

“Yes as I was saying before you cut me off the first time, we’ve come in the name of the Autobot’s to–”

“Autobots! You’re Autobots?”

“Yes.”

“Rebels who stopped Empire’s advance?”

“The same, with a little help from our Decepticon enemies,” replied Bumblebee with reluctance on the second part.

Death’s Head just stared incredulously at them for a moment then added, “Take it you are not representative of your kind, huh?”

Bumblebee paused for a moment, which allowed Cliffjumper to insert a sullen, “No.”

“We are of various kinds and functions unlike our enemies.”

“More to tell I think but first what would you have me do, eh? Hope you have more credits than height. Not planning to stay near this Empire much longer, yes?”

Bumblebee grimaced and decided to take pleasure in his announcement in its full audacity. “We would like you through a few well placed assassinations to start a civil war in the Empire and we are ready to pay 7 000 Shanx in hard currency.”

Death’s Head stayed silent longer this time emotions playing across the exaggerated contours of his face. ‘Need the money, yes? But job is madness. Be death of me.’ His face drooped and then firmed up.

“10 000 Shanx up front and a proper ship.” He ginned mercilessly knowing that such a demand while costing him the initial offer would surely send the diminutive Transformers packing.

“Done,” replied Bumblebee firmly.

Death’s Head almost groaned partly over the fact that he was probably going to get killed over this. ‘Outmanoeuvred by a Bumblebee! Not going to live this down.”

‘Sigh!’ “Have some questions to answer, yes?”

Death’s Head interrogated them for the better part of three Earth hours. After a while he wormed out or interpolated almost all the things they weren’t supposed let him suspect.

“Complicated situation, eh?”

“Don’t have to tell us that,” replied an exhausted Cliffjumper.

“Do I get the ship in the mail?”

“No we’ll take mine, replied Bumblebee offhand.

“We?”

“You don’t think we’re about to let you just stroll off with one of our ships and 10 000 Shanx did you?” queried Cliffjumper harshly.

“Work alone, yes?”

“Not this time. I have explicit orders from Optimus Prime to accompany you on your mission. We’ll leave as soon as you are ready and Cliffjumper will remain here for a few more days and collect any additional information before getting picked up.”

‘Could cut and run but.... could be worse...’ “Must have someone better suited, yes?”

“You’re looking at the Autobot’s best reconnaissance expert,” replied Cliffjumper.

“I’m older than I look. I suppose I sould call you sonny?” finished Bumblebee with a grin.

Death’s Head was not amused. ‘Could be worse. Could be working with some smart aleck kid.’ He looked at the small yellow and black robot who’s smile had vanished to be replaced with a deadly serious look of determination and made up his mind.

As Death’s Head made ready to transport up to the Autobot stealth shuttle by ‘warp gate’, he looked around his home of two and a half years and grinned as his eyes settled on one thing. He picked up the still pitted but sealed metal container and walked over to the one called Cliffjumper.

“Said you’d pass by a refugee world called Tracix on way to back to Cybertron, yes?”

Cliffjumper eyed him warily, still not trusting the bounty hunter. ‘Freelance peace-keeping agent, my tail pipe!’

“Yeah.”

“Pass this on to an organic called Muffado. Will have good information on Cybertronians,” added Death’s Head reflecting on what he’d managed to piece together in the time spent on Salos.

“What is it?”

“Just a little thing I owe him from the last job I did for him,” Death’s Head answered with the most innocent look his demon’s face could manage.

Cliffjumper’s scowl which had started with his first question deepened.

“Owe him. Huh, could say he got me where I am today.” It wasn’t a lie. The crime lord Muffado had known all about the Empire’s presence in Fahl space. In fact he’d been doing business with the Empire selling out the keys to planetary defence systems all along their border. Muffado had made his money running contraband to dozens of worlds and had more than enough secrets to cash in before the Imperials got to Scarvix.

This news had leaked into the Scarvican refugee population by way of the crime lord’s book keeper. Needless to say Muffado wasn’t exactly popular. Actually that was how Death’s Head had finally gotten some of the harder to find parts for his ship. Everyone blamed Muffado for the attack on Scarvix and they came trampling up to Death’s Head’s door offering their hoarded technology, begging him to enact their vengeance.

They didn’t need to. Death’s Head had stumbled the book keeper not long before he let out the news about his former employer. Seems Muffado had heard about his opposition wanting to hire Death’s Head to take him out and got to Death’s Head first. But instead of using Death’s Head to wipe out the opposition he wisely reasoned after reading up on Death’s Head, the best thing to do was to get rid of the only bounty hunter in the region with the ability to take him out. Especailly one who owed no loyalty except to the credits payed by the highest bidder. The last parts were conjecture but it’s what Death’s Head would have done.

As Cliffjumper was about to scan the container Death’s Head signalled Bumblebee to open the warp gate.

“One more thing, huh.” he added as the golden window of he gate began to form. “Other minibot wanted you to know you’re being picked up by some Sky Lynx.”

“Not that pompous, pile of spare parts Sky... hey!” was all Cliffjumper got out before Death’s Head stepped through the warp gate.

He grumbled a bit more and then looked down and scanned the container. To his disgust all it contained was some sort of organic creature’s circulatory pump (Ratchet’s lessons on organic physiology seemed to indicate that much). However on closer inspection it was submersed in some sort of fluid which upon even closer inspection would, when exposed to a slight upward change in temperature, combine with the compounds in the circulatory pump to produce a rather large explosion. Nothing any Transformer, rheanimum or not, couldn’t survive but just the sort of thing that would prove quite lethal to most organic creatures.

Still puzzled by Death’s Head’s package he suddenly decided to check something in his data banks. As he found it he grinned with grudging admiration. Why? You see, opening the refrigeration container anywhere on the hellish world of Tracix would... Well, You can guess.