Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making profit by writing this.

Chapter Rating: T
Chapter Warning: Slight gore
Characters Mentioned: Moonracer, Daniel Witwicky

---

The Moon

1/?

The pod was adorned with an Autobot symbol.  Thankfully, the Decepticons had cleared the area; only a small handful remained.  I knew I had to get—whoever it was—out and into hiding before they went on patrol.

He used the butt of his gun to apply pressure along the edges of the door; coaxing the thick shell to drift apart, revealing the clean, plush interior and the motionless Autobot inside.  The human peered through the narrow opening, sharp eyes scanning the contours of her frame for any visible injuries.  "Hey, Autobot… Time to wake up," he said, placing a hand upon her knee.  The small touch sent an uncomfortable, electrical charge through her body, drawing the femme from her slumber.  Her optics flickered online and she stared at the tiny creature leaning against the doorframe.

"Welcome to Earth," he greeted.

"… Earth?"

Moonracer struggled to at least get her arm free of the pod—why they made them so small was beyond her comprehension.  She stuck her head out, taking in the miserable landscape.  The buildings were crumbling, steel beams and other structure supports buckling under their heavy weight; abandoned vehicles lined the lonely streets now home to various species of Earth's flora.  The matter decayed around them, only to sustain that which had been stripped away once before.

It was ironic, really; bittersweet.

"I'm Daniel, by the way."

The femme turned her attention to the human.  She scrutinized his attire and the patches adorning the dark fabric.  "Air Force," he added.  "The Triplets shot down my squadron.  I was the only survivor."  Daniel hopped down from the pod, giving her room to escape through the narrow doorway.  "What do I call you?" he inquired as he watched the female—rather clumsily—crawl from her prison.

"Moonracer."

"I've never seen a female Autobot," he said, offering a smile; "I can only assume that you guys are rare, and for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

Daniel gestured for her to follow.  "He was dead when I found him.  I thought, maybe, he was killed by one of us, but… then I saw his stomach."  The human led her to the corpse of a fallen Decepticon, and nodded toward the wound and to the slick viscera that cascaded from the gaping maw.  Moonracer knelt beside the body, immediately noticing the lack of fuel pump.

"He's a lot smaller than the others," Daniel mused.

"Juvenile."

"Huh?"

"This mech is a youngling… He has a leg wound that probably restricted his movement.  The lack of fuel pump suggests he was a victim of cannibalism."

"Survival of the fittest."

Moonracer reached for the stranded gun.  "It's kinda sad," she said; "They're so hungry, they didn't even bother stripping him of his weapons."  She noticed several discarded shells lying around the corpse, evidence of how the young mech fought for his life; and it filled her spark with grief.

"Population control."

The femme looked to Daniel.  "Excuse me?"

"You asked for my reason.  I knew there was something—some kind of life-cycle."

Moonracer stood over the corpse.  "Yes, insufficient resources.  Many of us were either killed or sterilized, or forbidden to have more than one child.  And, then you have the casualties of war—"

"What about this guy?" he inquired, gesturing to the mech in question.

"Majority of the Decepticons come from the slums.  I imagine any poor woman who was lucky enough to avoid being killed, would have joined their army.  And it's quite possible for them to have consented to raising their hatchlings."  She emitted a small sigh.  "It's hard to tell who his parents are, what with his face and body all… mauled beyond recognition."

Daniel stared at the fluids seeping from the corpse's broken jaw.  "Right, well, let's head back and get you settled in.  They like to patrol at night."