03x25 - Call of the Primitives

[bunniefuu]

♪ The Transformers ♪

♪ More than meets the eye ♪

♪ Autobots wage their battle to destroy
the evil forces of the Decepticons. ♪

♪ Transformers ♪

♪ Robots in disguise ♪

♪ The Transformers ♪

♪ More than meets the eye ♪

♪ The Transformers ♪

Mayday! Mayday! Freighter ship
Lazy Sue under hostile fire!

Will somebody down there at Earth
Defense wake up and do something?

Hun-Gurrr hungry!

Food!

Mayday! Mayday!
Somebody! Anybody! Help!

Captain Faireborn.

We've got a bogey on screen,
entering Earth atmosphere at , west.

Hear you, load and clear, EDC.

We are narrowing in on target.
ETA seconds.

Action! Just what we've
been waiting for, huh Strafe?

Why did Rodimus Prime assign us to
this boring science unit anyway?

--About us still being new and
havin' to work with the humans.

Who cares?
I mean we got us some fast action!

Action hard and fast! Action that
get the old pumps pumpin'! Action that--?

Yoohoo!

Oh great!

Is everybody in this
planetary system crazy?

One down. Down! And I did it!

And one more dow- uh oh!

Fooooood!

Faireborn to Autobot City!

Do you see that! Our guys are in trouble!

We just going to sit here or what?
Let's do something!

Well, one thing we should do is

give this our considered
attention, Afterburner, and not--

... rush off half-cocked?

Well, now, I would say Afterburner
didn't want to hear what you were saying.

Hun-grr not hungry!

Hun-grr angry!

Make that two of us, dog face!

I calculate a,
three-fold rise of energy levels

somewhere in his central power core.

Afterburner!

Nosecone!

Pin him with a crossfire.

Activate now!

Thanks for the assist, Lightspeed.

We could have handled that two-headed
monstrosity ourselves of course.

Of course.

But this way was simpler.

Scattershot, whoever was piloting this
old rust heap, seems have run off.

"Rust Heap"? Thats my pretty lady,
"Lazy Sue," you were talkin' about

and uh... talk about pretty ladies...
Hello there.

Dirk Manus,
free trader from Epsilon Ariadne.

Just another odd human custom, I suppose.

And you're?

Uh... confused.
I'm uh...M-M-Marissa Faireborn,

Captain, Earth Defence Command.

And you're under arrest for
violating Earth Defence Zone, trader.

Beautiful. Call me Dirk.

And um... in case you didn't notice,
that Terrorcon tried to k*ll me.

An important point.
Do you have any idea why?

It might have something to do with
the Quintesson base,

I came across on one of those
terraformed moons out near Saturn.

A Quintesson base, inside
the solar system? Where?

I'm a trader, Faireborn.

Pay my fee and I'll lead you
to their nest. Up to you.

How long are they gonna keep that up?

Till they decide whether to trust you.

In Computron mode, Technobots

have a computational ability
of two hundred supercomputers.

When it comes to calculating odds,
Computron rarely makes a mistake.

And if you're a gamblin' man,
but no matter what he says,

you trust me, don't you?

Uh... not really.

Datum: Presence and activity of Terrorcon.

Datum: Condition of trader's ship.

Datum: Quintesson
intentions toward Earth.

Conclusion: Probability
of Quintesson base secreted

in solar system . %.

Action: Repair trader ship.
Pay trader's fee.

Follow to Quintesson
base tomorrow hours.

I don't care what Computron says.

Until we leave for Saturn,
I'm not letting you out of my sight.

Darling lady,
I wouldn't have it any other way.

As long as we're here,
would you like to dance?

I never learned.

Its easy.

Trust me.

You still don't get it, do ya?

Sure, the original deal
was for two million credits,

but that was before you
tried to double cross,

and ambush "Lazy Sue"
with your pet Terrorcon.

An unfortunate error of judgment.

Yeah. And it'll cost ya.
The price just tripled.

Unacceptable.

Do you want what I got or don't ya?

The Recreator is crucial to our
operation in this solar system.

Then you've got no choice. Pay me.

Agreed.

Pleasure doin' business with you, pal.

Wait! What of the Technobots?

Uh... Just to show no hard feelings,
I'll throw 'em in for free.

"Trust me".

Hello, Faireborn.

I was wonderin' when you'd show up.

That kind of mistake gets you k*lled.

Sell your smuggled goods
to the Quintessons.

Lead the Technobots into a trap.
Don't let me stand in your way.

You think I won't? Maybe you're right.

But that doesn't mean
I'm ready to be jailed by you!

Or anyone. Sorry, Faireborn,

if you weren't who you are,
and if I weren't who I am,

maybe we could have had something special.

But—we'll never know, will we?

I still don't know if it's right
flying off with Captain Manus.

We never checked with Captain Faireborn.

Since when do we have to ask
humans, what to do?

Shee didn't bother to show up.

If she needs us, Nosecone and Afterburner
stayed behind. Right, Scattershot? Right?

Yeah, and who needs them anyway?

The day three Technobots
can't handle one little,

two-headed Terrorcon, is the day I retire.

Two million credits tripled
makes six million credits,

less , for outfitting and expenses,

make a clear profit of million seven
hundred thousand creds galactic.

Wish you could see this, Faireborn.

Hey! Here! Over Here!

Saturn's rings...I can't
believe I'm finally out here.

- Say something, Lightspeed?
- Daydreaming, Strafe.

Or maybe I should say 'stardreaming'.

- Uh-huh.
- I've been waiting for this chance,

- to explore space.
- Uh-huh. Well--

But since leaving Cybertron,

the only stars I've seen are in
the sky over Autobot City.

Uh-huh, really? Well, I--

The stars, the planets,
the thousand moons...

like jewels in an alien crown.

Strafe!

Nobody said anything about an ambush!

Uh-oh...

Any luck raising Scattershot
and the others by commlink?

Not a word, Faireborn.

I'll tell ya, if our guys are hurt,

that traitor better be
halfway to Centauri by now!

'Cause if he isn't, by the time
I'm through with him, he will be!

Why we quit? Why we transform?

Haven't finished hunt!

Rippersnapper don't want to stop now!

No choice!

Must have set timer to control us!

Cute. You've got them
on an a*t*matic timer.

Those Terrorcons could become
uncontrollable if we did not take control.

The Terrorcons have their use,
free trader, but they lack self-discipline.

The Recreator please.

Know how it works?

We have studied its specifications.
Blot, come here!

Interesting.

Blot feel sick.

A molecular disassembler reassembler.
Most useful.

Thats not half.

Any germs your buddy might have
had inside him are gone now.

A healing device as well.

Satisfactory, free trader.
We pay the price agreed.

Glad we finally got together on
this, guys. Shake.

Um... Yeah, well... use it in good health.

And if there's ever anything
else I can smuggle for you guys...

We'll be in touch.

Slimy worm-fingered creep.

Unlikeable dry-skinned biped.

Ah, money. Lovely, lovely m--

Mimic dust!
Another lousy double cross.

Okay Quints. I had an idea
you'd try a stunt like that,

so I also left a little surprise of my own:

a micro size nuclear nullifier,

that'll melt your new toy to
hot slag, faster than you can say--

A triple cross! While I was
planting a b*mb on the Recreator,

they planted one on Lazy Sue!

This stinks!

Those five-headed creeps
are worse than I am!

And thats sayin' a lot, pal!

Oh, hi guys.
Am I glad to see you.

You don't think I had anything
to do with that ambush, do you?

I was just as surprised as you!

More surprised if you wanna know the truth.

I honestly, didn't - look out behind you!

Won't work, Dirk.
No more tricks.

You're leading us to the Quintesson
base, and thats aaahhh!

Next time, maybe you'll trust me!
If there is a next time!

Strfe! sh**t there!

My ship! Oh my beautiful "Lazy Sue" !

Forget your ship!
Those Sharkticons won't be tangled forever.

We've got to get out of here!

Hit 'em, Nosecone! Hit 'em high!

Actually, on consideration,
a flanking movement might be more--

Hit 'em hard!!

Just once, I'd wish you listen.

Just when its gettin' fun.

- We could have handled that.
- Yeah.

Yo, Faireborn!

You're fantastic.

Yes. So are you, Dirk.

What was that for?

Want a LIST?!
Let's leave Manus here to rot,

and get you guys back to Earth for repairs.

The shape you bots are in,
you'll never make it.

Not while the Quints have the Recreator.

The what?

Molecular disassembler,
nearly unlimited range.

Deadly,
but I know how to disarm it.

I'll bet you do.

Uh... we should consider this.

But in our present injured
condition, we can't form Computron.

Trust me.

You really hate me, don't you?

Whatever gave you that idea?

All i ever wanted was money, Faireborn.

It was never anything personal.
I like you.

I know. That's why I'm mad.

See, inspite of all you've done,
part of me almost likes you too.

I'm not such a bad guy after all.

Sometimes I'm so clever I can't stand it.

An effective stratagem,
free trader.

Yet, I'm surprised you brought them here,

considering the outcome
of our last transaction.

What was I gonna do?
Flag a cab?

I'm a couple billions miles from
the nearest star port, pal,

and besides, you've got my money.

That's all you care about, Dirk.
To you... money is everything.

Hun-Grr hungry.

Sinnertwin: Rip metal. Eat food!

Aren't you going to do something?

We are doing something, Captain Faireborn.

We're thinking. The actions of
trader Manus are quite intriguing.

So we're all set, right?

A thousand credits and a ship back home.

Theres just one thing I wanna do myself.

Those tin toy soldiers cost
me a lot of time and energy.

Heres where I pay 'em back.

Noo!

Manus, you lousy--!

Terrorcons, protect !

You've tricked us!
The Recreator healed their injuries!

Life's just full of surprises.

Terrorcons, form Abominus!

Destroy the Technobots!

Technobots, form Computron!

Estimated probability of victory
in one-to-one fight: . %.

Angle of fire, degrees off centre.
Calculating return fire pattern.

Why didn't you tell me
what you were planning?

You're not much of an actress, Faireborn.

The Quint's had to believe
you thought I betrayed you!

I did!

Haven't I always told you "trust me"?

Calculated force necessary

to activate Terrorcon timer
mechanism: sixteen megahertz.

Computing angle of fire.
Position laser cannon.

Fire!

Estimated probability of Terrorcon
victory over Computron: . %

Let's do it!

What did I tell ya, Faireborn?
We make a great team.

Just great.

If wish we could give you the creds,

the Quintessons left behind on Titan, Dirk,

but the EDC has a rule
against paying rewards.

Hey, no problem.

I'm just glad you guys
helped repair Lazy Sue.

She's looks almost as pretty as you.

Captain Faireborn! We just got
word from the EDC Vault.

Those creds we took from
the Quintessons, they're gone!

Dirk, you didn't?

Manus!

Should we go after him?

No. I don't think so.

I've got a feeling he'll be back.

Mimic dust! Faireborn, you conned me!