Speed

“Hey, Cyclonus, I don’t get it,” Rumble said to him on the first raid, the next morning, waving an arm in confusion around the large gasoline station; cars stood abandoned all around. The humans had all fled as soon as they had landed; on the other side of the nearby trees, the highway was crammed with abandoned cars as well. “This place has bupkis. We’re not gonna get more than two hundred astroliters out of it.”

“Get them as quickly as possible,” Cyclonus said. “We have another three targets to hit.”

“What, on this raid?”

“Yes,” he said flatly.

His party—Drag Strip, Dead End, Rumble, and Astrotrain—were all moderately irritated by the end of the proceedings. “So what gives?” Astrotrain said, glaring at him. “We’ve flown halfway around the planet and back for piddly little crap targets, and we haven’t seen a single Autobot.”

“Yes,” Cyclonus said. “Take the assembled energon to the spacebridge and send it to Shockwave.”

“Huh?” Astrotrain said. “We’ve only got six hundred astroliters, that’s not worth sending. It costs thirty every time you open the damn thing.”

“Follow my orders,” Cyclonus said flatly. “I am going to rendezvous with the next raiding party.”

“Did he say there’s another raid going out today?” Drag Strip said to Dead End, who only shrugged slightly.