Charr, The Garik Ruins
Alpha Centruri Star System

Charr’s cybernetic moon was out tonight. The Stunticons, Combaticons, Runabout, Runamock, and Counterpunch sat in the ancient ruins and in Trypticon’s shadow.

The red Porsche, Dead End, thought he came up with a great idea, “I know. Blast Off, you’re a space shuttle. You can get us off this rock!”

The Combaticon leaned against a pile of rubble, “No I can’t, you idiot. I’m not a ‘real’ space shuttle. I may look like one, but I’m a lot smaller. And I can’t achieve escape velocity or carry any passengers like Astrotrain.”

Drag Strip threw up his hands, “Then why do you look like a space shuttle?”

The response was quick, “Because Starscream is a bigger idiot than Dead End.”

The Combaticons’ bodies were constructed by Starscream twenty years ago. Obviously, accurate scaling wasn’t important to the former air commander.

The Stunticon started to protest, but then decided it was a backhanded compliment.

“What about Sixshot?” inquired Vortex.

The hexa-changer, responded via a comm. link from orbit, <I’m running on fumes up here. I couldn’t make it to the next planet, let alone another star system.>

Onslaught dared muse, “We could always barrow the Harbinger.”

“Steal Galvatron’s ship?” repeated Swindle.

Motomater, the black semi, commented, “Of all people, I wouldn’t think you would have a problem with that.”

“I don’t,” said the most blatant thief of the group. “But what if Cyclonus finds out?”

The Combaticon tank, Brawl, boasted, “I’m not afraid of Cyclonus. Let’s face it. The backbone of the Decepticon army is sitting right here.”

“Besides,” offered Runamock, “We’d return it. And with any luck, it’ll be full of energon.”

Breakdown suggested, “We could go to Earth, take what energy we need and come back.”

Vortex added, “Cyclonus may even thank us.”

The double agent, Counterpunch, crossed his arms, “If that’s the case, why don’t we just ask to use the ship?”

The group looked around at each other for several moments. Finally, Onslaught spoke, “Because he might say ‘no.’”

After that, idol talk became active planning. It was at that point, that Counterpunch faded back, transformed into a navy blue Lamborghini Diablo and sped off.

*****

Metroplex, Oregon
Earth

Captain Faireborn walked away from the commotion with a phone to her ear. An Autobot shuttle had landed nearby. Steam still rose off it from its atmospheric entry. Her troops were busy loading the mechs and their other equipment.

Finally, she was able to hear her conversation, “Sir, yes sir. Could you say again.” After a moment, her jaw dropped. “Is our mission still a go, sir?” “Yes sir.” “I understand.” She ended the call and put the phone in one of her many pockets. Then, she strode inside one of the orange, metal buildings.

*****

When she entered the large room, she found Ultra Magnus at a terminal. His back was turned.

She shouted up to him, “Have you heard about this?”

The nine meter tall robot turned, “You’ll have to more specific.”

“The UN has effectively ended their treaty with the Autobots.”

He nodded, “Prime told me a few minutes ago. So far, we haven’t heard anything from the United States about leaving the country. I’m attempting to contact your government, now.”

Faireborn stopped, “They’d be fools to kick you out.”

“You won’t get an argument from me,” said Magnus.

The EDC officer continued, “Now, I need to ask you if our mission to Cybertron is still on.”

“I haven’t heard anything different from Prime. I’d say you’re clear to proceed. I’ll make sure Kup authorizes you for landing.”

She sighed, “Excellent.” She added, “Hopefully, this stupidity will blow over soon.”

“Agreed,” came from the white and blue big rig. “I’d hate to think what would happen if powerful human nations began to turn against us.”

*****

 

ok, still cool. Nice add up to suspense

 

I just hate how it takes fans to spice up Hasbro's work. Their stuff should have been this awesome in the first place! Keep up the good work man!

 

Thank you, ARCTrooperAlpha.

I very much appreciate the comment, solusprime19! And couldn't agree more.  

And thanks to everyone who are reading the series.

Author's note: It's come to my attention, that Galvatron's ship was named, though, not in the cartoon. At any rate, I've decided to honor it, so the name "Harbinger" will be replaced with "Revenge."

Also, apparently there is some controversy about how "Charr" is spelled. "Charr" or "Chaar." I'm going with "Charr." Whenever I read "Chaar" is see "Chair," so...

...anyway, here's the next installment!

Charr, Soundwave’s Lab
Alpha Centruri Star System

The newly refitted Soundwave leaned over a gunmetal body. He was doing very delicate work to the sub-structure. The espionage director began hearing rushed footfalls from the entrance tunnel. As a precaution, he readied his shoulder mounted mini-gun.

The shadow came first. Shortly after, Counterpunch emerged. He quickly began, “Soundwave, the other Decepticons…they’re plotting to take the Revenge.”

Coldly, evenly, he rejoined, “How did you learn of this location?”

The double agent looked at the body and looked back at Soundwave, who was about eight meters taller. Fear began to show in this face, “I…I um, followed the Constructicons here a few kilocycles ago. I, I haven’t told anyone.”

Soundwave rose to his full height and walked around the operating table.

The Lamborghini Diablo shook as he started to plead, “I’m sorry. It’s, it’s what I do. I’m a spy.”

“Indeterminate if you are Counterpunch or your doppelganger, Punch.”

Counterpunch, a Decepticon, and Punch, an Autobot, where created nearly at the same time and were a counter-balance to each other. Either robot can appear to be the other. The ploy was meant to illicit confusion. The down side was neither Cybertronian was fully trusted by any faction.

“I swear,” pledged Counterpunch, “It’s me!”

“I am unwilling to take that chance,” stated Soundwave. As his chest plate lowered, he commanded, “Ravage, Laserbeak, eject. Operation: assassination.”

With that, Counterpunch panicked. He turned, transformed and sped out of the cavern. Ravage and Laserbeak pursued him. Soundwave gave chase behind them on foot.

With his engine screaming, Counterpunch exited the tunnel. He left a trail of blue dust in his wake. Laserbeak emerged, then Ravage.

Shortly after, Soundwave ran out. He leaped up and transformed into a blue and silver space fighter. His shape was reminiscent of a human stealth fighter. He engaged his afterburners and caught up to the Diablo within seconds. In mid-air, the stealth fighter reformed into a robot. Soundwave’s left foot impacted on the engine compartment of the sports car. The force caused the car into the air and tumble forward. As it did, Counterpunch transformed. He struck the ground hard and rolled for several more meters.

As Soundwave approached the quickly clearing cloud of dust, he saw his handy work. Counterpunch’s legs were little more than mangled parts.

The double agent pushed himself onto his back. He fixed his eyes on Soundwave, who had now been joined by his minions. Laserbeak rested on his master’s shoulder turret.

“Please, Soundwave,” began Counterpunch in desperation, “Don’t…”

There was no expression from the executioner, “Ravage, finish him.”

The robotic panther pounced on what was left of the spy and gnawed his throat out. Soundwave looked on without reaction or remorse as the pleas became unintelligible noises. It was over quickly.

Ravage and Laserbeak transformed into hexagon shaped data discs. As Soundwave returned them, he deployed Frenzy and Rumble. He instructed them, “Salvage what components remain useful. I will inform Cyclonus and the Constructicons of the others’ intrigue.” He turned and walked off.

*****

 

Nebulon, Old Hive City
Epsilon Endi System

A very out of place looking, two and a half meter robotic bat slowly walked out of the dense foliage. Mindwipe cautiously surveyed the battle site. Scorponok was in city mode several hundred meters away. Smoke still rose from the giant Hive machine. Scorponok had received a brutal beating from the Decepticon forces, but was still a formidable citadel.

Mindwipe was stuck in giant bat form since he had become a Headmaster and now lacked his Nebulon partner. As soon as Galvatron launched the attack against the Hive, Mindwipe fled. He knew there was no chance of surviving a frontal attack on Scorponok. A fact testified to by the other Headmaster remains he spotted on the battlefield. He may be stuck in beast mode, but he was alive.

The bat dared to venture out in the open. There didn’t seem to be any activity now. He wasn’t sure why he returned. No where else to go, perhaps; maybe, morbid curiosity. Among the ruins and colossal footprints, he came across what used to be Abonimus. The combined form of the Terrorcons lay mangled and in several pieces. As he looked closer at the carnage, he noticed the gestalt’s left arm and left leg were missing. Deep drag marks and tracks led away from the battle site.

Sounds. Talking…fleshling voices. Members of the Hive were coming. Quickly, Mindwipe flew as low as he could to some cover. He hid behind what was left of a structure, but he could still hear the voices.

A whiny, yet energized voice spoke, “Come on, Krunk, none of this junk can be salvaged. Not after the bashing Lord Zarak gave ‘em.”

Another, more authoritative voice responded, “You’d be surprised what can be repaired, Spasma. With any luck, some of these Decepticon bodies can still be made into Headmasters. At the very least, we can reverse engineer some of these components to improve on our own robot designs.”

It sounded like a piece of metal was kicked, “I still say this stuff is probably junk.”

The two Hive members began collecting the Cybertronian remains using their own machines.

Mindwipe lingered only as long as he deemed necessary to avoid detection. As soon as the coast was clear, he took flight in the direction of the tracks.

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Decagon, Planetary Security Complex

The heavy, metal doors parted for Jazz. Immediately, he heard Kup’s crotchety tone.

He was speaking into a terminal. “No, Sludge. You’re supposed to be in sector seven with Swoop. Not taking a soak in the energon pools!”

“But leader, Grimlock, say…”

The elderly ‘bot interrupted, “Grimlock doesn’t make the patrol routes. I do. Swoop is out there alone. What if he gets into trouble? Go find Swoop!”

“Well, ok. …but Grimlock say…”

Kup flipped a switch and closed the channel. “Like talking to pile of spare parts.” He turned to discover his visitor, “Oh, hey Jazz. Sorry, but those Dinobots are a nightmare to direct.”

The Reliant Captain walked closer and offered, “Why not assign them to work with the Repair or Reconstruction teams?”

The teal Cybertronian pickup truck looked at Jazz as if Morphobots were growing out of his audio receptors, “Are you kiddin’ me? Can you see the Dinobots fixing anything? The only thing they’re good at is security.” He added, “Well, it’s what they’re best at, anyway.”

“I hate to add to your troubles,” began Jazz, “but I’d like to steal Bluestreak from ya.”

“Fer what?”

“Deep space mission,” rejoined the Porsche.

“Oh.” His tone softened, “I suppose Bluestreak jumped at the chance.”

Kup was a second generation Cybertronian. And, now that Alpha Trion was one with Vector Sigma, the oldest known Cybertronian. Kup actually had to be retrofitted to be able to transform, he was so old. The senior robot was a highly liked and respected figure among Autobots. For those who worked directly under him, however, he was respected; but not necessarily liked.

Jazz caught his implication and decided to mention, “His only concern was leavin’ you short-handed.”

The old ‘bot shrugged, “Eh, that’s alright. Cliffjumper can take his post. Besides, I got enough people, now that Silverbolt, Air Raid, Groove, and Streetwise are back online.”

Out of curiosity, Jazz asked, “What about Hot Spot? What’s he doin’?”

“Hot Spot’s helpin’ out First Aid with the R&R team.”

The Porsche began to walk off, “Which reminds me, I need to talk to First Aid about reassigning Inferno.”

Kup called back to him as he exited, “You’re just bound and determined to add complications to everyone’s day, aren’t you?”

Jazz acknowledged with a playful smirk.

*****

 

Thanks for reading, everybody! Here's more...

Charr, The Garik Ruins
Alpha Centruri Star System

Once Soundwave relayed to the other ‘loyalists’ the ‘traitors’’ intention, Hook quickly suggested, “I say we take them all out!”

Mixmaster observed, “Devastator could destroy Brutius while Cyclonus and Snapdragon engage Menasor. The others will fall into line after that.”

“No,” declared Cyclonus. “Now is not the time to fight among ourselves. Lord Megatron will need his forces united when he returns.”

Scrapper crossed his arms, “Then, what do you suggest? Let them strand us here?”

The eighteen meter tall robot turned, “No.” He concluded, “We beat them to the punch. Load all of our equipment and ready the ship for launch…now!”

*****

Bruticus and Menasor walked toward the docking frame that the Revenge rested in. Runabout and Runamuck drove in their wake. The ship was in sight. They expected trouble with Counterpunch missing. Sixshot and Ref-Lec-Tor both lacked the energon to safely enter the atmosphere and were effectively adrift in orbit.

As they approached, the engines began warming up. Everyone noticed. “No!” cried Bruticus and he and the others upped their pace. The ventral thrusters came to life and the space cruiser began rising. There was nothing they could do but watch their only hope fade up into the sky.

*****

Onboard the Revenge, Snapdragon and Cyclonus looked at the group on the ground. Bruticus even took a few potshots at the ship.

“Well, they’re pissed,” observed the triple-changer.

Cyclonus looked concerned for a moment. “Lord Megatron will unite us again. He must unite us again.” He looked to Snapdragon, “We must not fail. If we don’t succeed, the Decepticons will fracture and fade into history.”

*****

Nebulon, Fortress Maximus
Epsilon Endi System

The Autobot Headmaster and Targetmasters continued their meeting just outside of the base. Some Nebulons were joined with their robot counterparts, other not.

While technically, Pointblank – the red Cybertronic sports car, was the senior Autobot officer on the scene, he often let Brainstorm take the lead; not that Brainstorm’s ego allowed for much else.

“I think we need to do some air patrols in Hive territory first,” offered Brainstorm, the Cybertronian jet.

The Cybertronic tank repeated himself, “And only you and Highbrow are capable of flying. You’ll need ground reinforcements if you get into trouble.”

“We won’t get into trouble, Hardhead. If we are targeted, we’ll retreat here.”

Arcana added, “And if the Hive follow us back, all the better. Fortress Maximus would make short work of them.”

Highbrow supplemented, “An aerial reconnaissance operation would afford the maximum sum of benefit with the least total jeopardy.”

Pointblank had worked his way up the ranks over millennia of war. He didn’t enjoy fighting. His one hope – fantasy really – was to retire. He wanted out of the war, but wasn’t willing to walk away from this fellow Autobots to do it. Because of this reality, he often seemed somber, depressed even. He finally spoke. “Highbrow, Gort, Brainstorm, Arcana, start airborne patrols. If you get into any trouble, you come back.”

“You got it,” said Brainstorm right before he transformed.

Highbrow followed suit and formed a Cybertronian twin rotor helicopter. Their Nebulon partners boarded the vehicles.

As they took off, Pointblank reiterated, <I mean it. The second you make contact, you haul your aft frame back here. No heroics.>

Brainstorm responded once he was in the air, <You won’t get any argument from me on that one.>

*****

 

Earth, New York City

Blaster and Tracks walked out of a loading dock door. They could still hear the screaming fans from inside the concert. The stadium crew walked around them tending to their business without giving the Autobots a second glance.

The red ‘bot confessed, “Man, do you remember the days when we got more play than the band?”

“I’m not sure you’re using the word ‘play’ quite right,” commented Tracks in his typical patronizing tone.

Blaster ignored him, “I don’t mind not being the life of the party…”

“Oh please! It tears you up inside that we aren’t the center of attention anymore.”

The Autobot communications director looked at the walking, blue corvette with a grimace. Then, he looked forward, “Harsh, Tracks. Harsh.”

They continued on in silence for a few more moments.

Blaster went on, “I need a change, man. I feel like last year’s one hit wonder.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” Tracks transformed. His vehicle form was a 1982 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray, “I don’t know what that feels like. I’m a classic.”

The ten meter tall robot snapped his fingers, “That’s it! I need to get a new alt. mode!”

Still in car mode, Tracks asked, “Who would do the procedure? I couldn’t do it.”

“I’ll give a shout out to Pipes at Autobot City. He’s got the skill to give me looks to kill.”

“Uh huh,” came from the ‘vette. “Assuming he’ll do it, now all you have to do is choose a new form…maybe a sports car.”

Blaster shook his head, “No offence, but I’d loose over five meters. I couldn’t keep the band together if I did that.”

Rewind, one of his ‘cassettes,’ spoke from inside Blaster, “I truly wish you would stop referring to us as your ‘band.’”

“Don’t want to be short as me, huh?” continued Tracks in a light taunt. “Well, if you want to be on wheels, your choices are limited.” He suggested, “Fire trucks are red.”

“Not my style,” Blaster quickly rejoined. He crossed his arms and said to himself as he looked around, “Something big and mobile. Something with the right vibe to it…”

His eyes settled on it. It was the right size and it was right down his alley - the band’s tour bus.

*****

Monicus Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti System

Scourge and Misfire circled the city of Sheol from above in jet mode. The town was rather unimpressive, primitive even. Most of the structures were made from the native blue-gray stone. The town looked like it hadn’t been updated or improved for hundreds of years.

The streets were littered with trash – literal and figural. Intoxicated fleshlings wondered around aimlessly. There seemed to be little here but poverty and depression.

<Look over there,> transmitted Misfire.

The last of the Sweeps rejoined, <I see it.>

In the far corner of the city, there stood a coliseum. It was just as damp as all the other buildings, but it was well lit and a swell of noise and commotion emanated from within.

Scourge ordered, <Let’s take a closer look.>

The jets banked toward it and moments later, transformed in mid-air and fell with force on the street below. They’re arrival startled a few aliens, but most ignored the cybernetic beings. The two stood to their full height.

The former Targetmaster examined the building. This was the place. An engraving above the main entrance read “Lord Gyconi's Pit of Destruction.” He commented, “Megatron had a racket going on with the guy who owns this place?”

“Must have been desperate times,” observed Scourge. He turned to his subordinate, “Just like now. Let’s go.”

*****

 

The Decepticon jets entered the main arena. The crowd consisted of several types of aliens, organic and cybernetic. All cheered insatiately toward the pit. Some type of large organic beast had just gnawed off the leg of a robot.

“Excuse me.”

“Excuse me!”

The voice came from a green hominid about three meters tall at their feet. Despite his size, he took an insistent tone with the Cybertronians that towered above him. The creature was conspicuously armed. “The admission is five energon chips.”

Misfire dismissingly kicked the man to the side. It was enough to knock him to the stone floor. The transformer looked down, “What are you gonna to about that, fleshling?”

The alien was muscular by human standards, but still couldn’t possibly intimidate a ten and a half meter tall Decepticon. Calmly, he got back to his feet. He smirked as he raised his weapon and fired.

A stream of electrical bolts engulfed Misfire. The robot spasmed uncontrollably. The alien didn’t let up. The maroon-colored jet convulsed so badly, he fell to the ground. After a few more moments of Misfire flopping around like a fish, the bouncer disengaged. The Decepticon heaved a few more times. Slowly, he regained his composure. Though, he didn’t try to get up.

The man simply stated, “Admission is five energon chips.”

Scourge, whom notably didn’t try to help, looked to Misfire, “Well, pay the man.”

Misfire relented. A compartment on his hip opened and he handed the man the chips. The Cybertronian goaded, “You are literally taking the blood from my body. I hope you know that.”

The bouncer only smiled.

Scourge asked as he handed over his fee, “We are looking for Lord Gyconi.” He added, “We are Decepticons,” hoping it would carry weight.

The alien barely noticed, “I didn’t realize you guys still existed.”

The Sweep couldn’t let the slight go unchallenged, “The Decepticons will always exist!”

He was singularly unimpressed, “Yeah, whatever. Why do you want to see Lord Gyconi?”

The jets looked at each other. They were hoping their presence alone would instill fear and obedience. That obviously wasn’t going to happen. What could Scourge say? ‘Give me your energon because I’m asking nicely.’ Scourge decided to gamble, “We are here on behalf of our Lord G… Megatron. We demand to see Gyconi to reinstate our business arrangement.”

The green-skinned biped cocked his head, “Oh really. Well, why didn’t you say so? Lord Gyconi will most defiantly want to talk to you. Follow me.”

*****

Nebulon, Uncivilized Lands
Epsilon Endi System

Mindwipe followed the tracks from the air for over an hour. Luckily, most of this planet seemed to be uninhabited. There were a few primitive villages. When the Nebulons saw him, they reacted with fear. They must have thought he was another Hive machine. He rather enjoyed the response he elicited.

The giant, cybernetic bat came upon a beach. The water, along with the sky, had a purple hue. There, on the shore, was a white, walking, shark creature and something resembling a gargoyle – Rippersnapper and Cutthroat. As he neared, it seemed what was left of the Terrorcons were near status lock. The purple, black, and brown Decepticon landed near the other two.

Cutthroat didn’t respond - his left arm had been torn off. Rippersnapper was able to push himself up and looked at the bat. The shark-like ‘con had energon streaming from his mouth, “Mindwipe?”

“Yes,” his voice was that of a soothsayer’s. “How bad is it?”

‘Snapper gestured to Cutthroat, “He can’t move. I’m leaking a lot.”

The giant bat commented, “You could both be repaired. I could do it with the proper materials.” He continued, “But not in this form. I need a robotic head.” Mindwipe’s gaze fell upon Cutthroat.

Rippersnapper saw what was in the bat’s eyes. “I’m not gonna put his head on you. I don’t know how, anyway.”

Mindwipe grumbled.

The land shark suggested, “Hey, you can pull one of your mind tricks on the guy who was your head, can’t you?”

Mindwipe had a unique ability to send out mind-influencing signals that affected both Cybertronian and many organic brains. He liked up play up the idea that this ability was supernatural and arcane. The reality was much different. The technology to influence robotic minds had been installed long ago on an alien planet. In the past year, Mindwipe rediscovered the work of Dr. Arkeville and adapted his “hypno-chip” programming to be transmitted wirelessly. “Are you suggesting I sneak into the Hive city; find my former Nebulon partner, Vorath; and hypnotize him into becoming my head permanently?”

The Terrorcon said simply, “Yeah.”

Mindwipe contemplated aloud, “I would have to saturate his mind to such a point to ensure his loyalty that he’d become lobotomized.” After a moment, he looked to the shark, “Good idea.”

*****

 

Got a feeling that meeting with Lord Gyconi ain't gonna be shipshape

 

Here's more. Thanks for reading!

Cybertron, Iacon
Council Chambers of the Primes

A golden, newer model VW Bug rolled right up to Prime in the now fully operational Council Chambers. The rest of the Autobot Command Council wasn’t present.

Goldbug, whom was known as Bumblebee a few months ago, transformed. Along with a reformat during the “hate plague” crisis, Goldbug was promoted to be the Autobot’s espionage director. “You wanted to see me Prime?”

“I have a mission for you, Goldbug.” Optimus activated a three-dimensional image of Charr. “Our intelligence of the Decepticon settlements on Charr are months old. And I suspect things have changed since our most recent battle. I want you to take a team to assess the current state of the Decepticons.”

It was a big mission. Up to this point, Bumblebee/Goldbug had rarely been in charge of an operation. Optimus Prime, however, had always been impressed with his abilities. The promotion said a lot about Prime’s confidence in Goldbug. The Bug wasn’t about to let his mentor down. “You got it, Prime.” He followed up with, “Who do you want to come with me?”

The Autobot leader looked down and said deliberately, “You tell me, Director.”

It wasn’t a test, per say, but Goldbug knew it was an opportunity to show Prime he was capable. “All right,” he paused to think, “Well, I’ll want Mirage, since he has a cloacker.” He added with more poise, “And I want to take Sky Lynx. Not only can he take us there, he can back us up if we get into trouble.”

“Very well,” said Optimus. “I’ll inform them to report to you. Leave as soon as you are able.”

Goldbug took a few steps, but Prime caught him before he transformed, “And remember, this is purely an intelligence gathering mission. Get there, find out what you can, and get back here safe.”

The relatively small three and one-half meter ‘bot nodded, “Will do.” He shifted to his vehicle mode and sped off.

Prime never liked sending people on missions behind enemy lines. It often didn’t turn out well. He wished it wasn’t necessary, but keeping their eyes off the Decepticons was an even more dangerous prospect.

*****

Nebulon, near the Old Hive City
Epsilon Endi System

Gort, a green-skinned Nebulon rebel, looked out of Highbrow’s cockpit. The twin-rotor attack helicopter began circling Scorponok from a distance. But even from here, it was clear that the fortress had been in a massive battle. Smoke rose from the Hive city. Gort was surprised they were able to get so close without encountering the base’s defenses. Hopefully, that was a testament to the damage. He postulated, “Could all this damage be due to the plasma strike?”

“No way,” came from Brainstorm, who was analyzing the scene from a few hundred meters away. “With this damage, they never would have made it to Nebulos. Whatever happened to Scorponok, it happened after they got here.”

Arcana looked closely at a monitor displaying images of the surface from inside the white and teal jet. “There appear to be…huge footsteps throughout the city.”

"Probably from Scorponok," said Gort from Highbrow.

The Rebel scientist added, “Then why are there two sets?”

Highbrow confirmed with his own scanners, “Only a solitary entity causes depressions of that magnitude and profile.”

“Trypticon,” concluded Brainstorm.

The blue and grey copter surmised, “Trypticon and Scorponok engaged in hostilities, but for what motive?”

Arcana fielded the query, “Lord Zarak probably betrayed Galvatron.”

“Or Galvatron betrayed Zarak,” supplemented Brainstorm.

Gort commented, “Either way, that’s a good thing for us, right?”

The Autobot jet stated, “Not if Trypicon is still on your planet.”

“I don’t think he is,” observed Arcana. “I see a distinct landing point and another area that looks like a blast off location.” He continued to analyze the images. “What’s this? Brainstorm zoom in on this location,” as he pointed to the screen. As the jet complied, it became clear. “There are drag marks leading away from the city.” The Nebulon leaned back, “Someone survived and headed southwest.”

Just then, flashes of light came from Scorponok’s artillery cannons.

“Incoming!” warned Gort.

Highbrow immediately began evasive maneuvers. He was a much slower and easier target than Brainstorm. “I advise an abrupt departure!”

Arcana made the call, “Highbrow, Gort, head southeast. Follow that trail. Brainstorm and I will cover you until you’re out of their range.

<Heading out,> said Gort.

“A low, strafing run should get their attention,” offered the jet.

Brainstorm dived steep until he was mere meters above the ruins. He leveled out and headed right for the citadel. Scorponok’s mortars and rail guns tried to track the jet but were impacting long. The Hive machine began to loom large in the window.

Between the G forces and the massive structure before him, Arcana was regretting his initiative. “Shouldn’t you be shooting…or at least, veering off?”

“I have an idea, but I’ll have to be close.” came from the jet.

The Nebulon’s reaction to the comment was not optimistic, “How close?”

“Real close.”

All Arcana could do was hold on for dear life to the armrests.

The next mortar shell exploded right in front of them. Brainstorm flew through the eruption of fire. On the other side of the flames, Scorponok filled the cockpit window. Violently, the jet’s nose jerked up. Arcana could hear several small explosions and bright lights behind them as Brainstorm flew parallel to the structure. Within seconds, it was over. The jet still climbed in altitude but not as severely.

“What did you do?” asked the Nebulon.

The response came via a voice from the console, “I deployed flashbang charges. It should be enough to overload Scorponok’s sensors for several seconds. Long enough for us to get out of range of his weapons, at least.”

Arcana looked back at the fortress as Brainstorm banked to the southeast. Scoponok wasn’t firing. It appeared to have worked. He sat forward again, relieved, “We need to work on our communication.”

*****

Cybertron, Iacon

The search and repair team worked in a long collapsed building near a chasm. Cybertron had several valleys - a result of its ‘onion-like’ construction.

Gears, a 1952 off-road pickup truck with a blue and red color scheme, struggled to lift a piece of debris. Inferno saw him struggle. Gears was nearly as old as Kup and much more anti-social. Inferno, whose vehicle form was a fire truck, moved to help him; since he knew the old prideful ‘bot would never ask. The fire truck had about four meters on the pickup. Together, they removed what was once part of a wall.

The old truck clasped his hand on his shoulder and rotated it, “Oh, my aching pulleys.”

Then, they noticed. A robotic arm had been exposed. It was light blue in color and had a simple claw at the end of it. Inferno immediately transmitted to the others nearby, <Over here, we found one.>

“How can you be sure?” asked Gears. “It could be just another drone.”

Inferno continued to move wreckage, “I’ve seen that claw before.” He faced Gears, “I’m the one who gave it to him.”

“Him, who?”

The fire truck lifted another piece of metal. He saw the head. It was mouthless and had a single, large eye; similar to Shockwave’s. “Whirl,” answered Inferno. His left arm formed a diagnostic tool and he touched the corpse. “I’m still detecting faint energon readings. I’d say his spark is still active.”

First Aid – an ambulance, Hot Spot – a light blue fire truck, and Firestar – a Cybertronian utility vehicle, showed up on the scene. They all assumed humanoid forms as they approached.

“What have you got?” asked First Aid.

Inferno corrected him, “Not what, who. Whirl - and if I’m not mistaken there should be more under this rubble.”

The leader of the Protectobots said, “What makes you say that?”

The red fire truck rejoined, “Whirl was part of the first line of defense of Iacon when Megatron launched his final push against the city. This building once housed a weapons turret.” He seemed to sigh, “I saw what happened, but I couldn’t do anything about it. The Decepticons hit the structure with artillery and then moved in with ground troops. As they were fighting inside, the tower collapsed on them all.” He added solemnly, “That’s all I saw. We never got a chance – until now – to search for survivors.”

Firestar, a member of Elita One’s resistance group, stepped forward and began removing the rubble. She commented, “Well, better late than never.”

*****

 

Several hours later, the search and repair team had discovered five Cybertronians with active sparks. They were laid out in a nearby clearing. The group stood over the damage-ridden bodies.

Inferno pointed to the bodies as he spoke, “That’s Roadbuster and he’s Bulkhead.”

Gears observed, “They sure look like frontline warriors.” Bulkhead was about 7.5 meters tall and turned into a green heavy assault vehicle. Roadbuster had a green, orange, and brown color scheme; was three meters shorter; and formed an attack jeep.

“They were part of a team along with Cliffjumper, Brawn, and Ironhide,” remembered the red fire truck. “I patched them up more times than I can remember.”

Firestar grinned, “I remember now. They called themselves the ‘Wreckers.’”

Hot Spot leaned down near the two unnamed bodies, “Has anyone seen these two Decepticons before?”

One of the ‘cons was obviously a seeker of some sort, dark blue, but his design was much sleeker and thinner than the traditional ‘tetra-jet’ type. The other had a dull gray finish and seemed to transform into a dual-rotor assault copter.

“Does it matter?” spat Gears. “It’s not like we’re going to reactivate them.”

There was a tense silence.

When he felt it, the pickup added, “We’re not going to reactivate them…”

First Aid, the mission commander, said, “How many Cybertronians still exist? Thirteen hundred, maybe? That’s including the Paradrons and the Junkions. How can we not repair them?”

“You can’t be serious!” protested Gears.

The larger Hot Spot put himself between the two. “Hold on. It’s not our call. We’ll take all of them to Rachet’s, but Prime will decide to repair the Decepticons or not.”

That didn’t seem to satisfy Gears, but before he could continue, a 30 meter green saucer with yellow, slightly glowing bulges, descended from the starry sky.

Firestar, for one, was glad for the development. Their ride was here. “Here comes Cosmos, let’s load the bodies.”

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Central Spaceport

Inside the Autobot shuttle, the atmosphere had been pressurized and made suitable for the human passengers. Now, the Earth Defense Command personnel conjugated near the main loading hatch and donned their Hostile Environment Battle Uniforms. Most had all but their helmets on.

The only exceptions were Nijo Koin and Jack Darby. They climbed into the cockpits of their mechs. The mechs were nearly identical and painted in the EDC’s colors of white and blue. Each pilot began the start up sequence and standard checks.

The EDC detachment consisted of: two mechs, each with a support team. There were also, two squads of elite infantry; armed with heavy machine guns, rocket launchers, incendiary devices, and various explosives. The UN and the CSS provided equal amounts of equipment and personnel.

Doctor Elise Presser had been instrumental in developing the mechs. The United Nations model was designated the Robotic Battle Exo-Suit (ROBES). The Confederation of Sovereign States, on the other hand, named their design Cyber-Enhanced Battle Armor (CERA). The only real differences between the two were superficial. To Dr. Presser, it hardly mattered. She didn’t care about political squabbles or posturing. Cybernetics had been her life. She had a chance encounter with the Autobots and Cybertronian technology in 1985, while she was in high school. The experience only served to reinforce her calling. To be named mission specialist was an honor enough, but to be assigned to Cybertron! It was unbelievable. In fact, she caught herself hyperventilating.

Trailbreaker, a black Cybertronian standing about seven and three-fourths meters high joined the assembled humans. Blurr, whom was about half his height, followed behind. The two Autobots had piloted the shuttle.

The larger ‘bot joshed, “Alright, did Blurr’s flying make anybody throw up?”

There was a group laugh as some hands timidly went up.

The blue Cybertronian-style hover car spoke in an extremely rushed tempo, “Sorry, I keep on forgetting that humans can’t handle gravitational forces like we can. Whenever I ride with Daniel, he keeps on saying ‘yeah, faster, faster.’ So just assume all it wouldn’t bother you. If I had known he could’ve vomited all over me I never would’ve…”

Trailbreaker placed a hand on Blurr’s shoulder and interrupted, “Ok, I’m sure our passengers are ready to disembark.” He moved to a control panel near the exit. “Alright people, if you enjoy breathing, make sure you’re all sealed up.”

He waited for everyone to do so. All helmets were on and the mech cockpits sealed.

Captain Marissa Faireborn, the company commander, prompted Trailbreaker. “We’re good. Open her up.”

The black Autobot adjusted the control. “I’m gradually venting the atmosphere. Otherwise, you might be blown out of the ship and land on the hard, metal ground. It might be fun to watch, but I’m not that mean.”

Darby, from inside his mech, went over his PA, “Thanks for the consideration.”

After the hiss of air stopped, the hatch lowered. Everyone was silent as the Cybertron landscape became visible. The stars still twinkled behind thin clouds. The sun highlighted every intricate detail of innumerable metal structures of all types and designs. The eons of war were also painfully apparent. Nearly every building had some degree of damage.

Trailbreaker could see the fascination in their eyes and it made him smile. Then, he looked out. The joy was quickly replaced by grief. All he could see in the landscape was failure - the failure of his whole species. He mustered a grin as he looked back at the EDC detachment, “Welcome to Cybertron.”

Blurr was the first to dash out. “Ok, follow me. I’ll take you to your new home away from home. Come on. Let’s go.” He transformed and sped off.

The rest of the group walked down the ramp. It became obvious that the group needed some type of on-planet transport. The mechs couldn’t go much faster than a running human. They certainly couldn’t walk everywhere. Luckily, the building provided by the Autobots was only about a kilometer away.

The 4x4 truck didn’t bother transforming. He decided to walk with the others.

Faireborn looked up, “I was expecting to have Ambassador Witwicky and Optimus Prime greet us.”

He responded, “Well, everybody’s pretty busy around here and we’re kinda scattered all over the planet.”

“Space station,” came from Darby.

Some of the other troops groaned. Nijo commented, “Please, let’s not bring this up now.”

“Why not?” he protested.

The captain looked back, “Because it’s semantics and not important.” She was hoping he would take the hint.

He didn’t. “See, Trailbreaker, listen to this. Cybertron is 112 kilometers in diameter, right?”

“Yeah,” confirmed the ‘bot.

The mech pilot continued, “It’s smaller than both Death Stars; therefore, Cybertron is a space station.”

“What?” questioned the Autobot.

“Don’t mind him,” started Faireborn. She glared at Jack over her shoulder, “Sergeant Darby sometimes talks without thinking about how others might react.”

“I don’t mind,” admitted the truck. “I wouldn’t mention that around Kup, though. He hates those movies.” The group walked a few more steps as a smirk formed on Trailbreaker’s face. He turned and said, “Hey Darby, wanna feel the force?” He quickly emitted a force field that Jack’s mech walked right into. It wasn’t enough to damage the machine, but it gave the human inside a jolt. The shield dispersed after only a moment.

The group laughed unrestrained, including Faireborn and Trailbreaker. Dr. Presser joined in, but had an undercurrent of concern for the mech.

Jack’s hair was standing on end. To his credit, he saw the prank for what it was. He shook it off, “That was tingly.”

*****

 

Monicus Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti System

Lord Gyconi’s chambers were lavish, especially considering the decay in the rest of the city. It was adorned with relics and treasures from all over the galaxy; no doubt, collateral from unpaid loans. The room appeared to serve as both office and bedroom. Gyconi sat atop a collection of large, lavish pillows. He sent an attractive alien woman away as his bouncer escorted Scourge and Misfire in.

Gyconi, himself, was large for an organic creature. He was as tall as any of the Stunticons, at least; and probably weighed twice as much. He was bulbous and had green skin; though, a different species than the bouncer. His fish-like mouth was full of small, sharp teeth. He had hoops in his elongated ears. Everything about him would indicate he was an amphibian, expect for his odd, thick eyebrows. He leaned forward when he saw the symbol the robots displayed, “Decepticons! Are you looking for work?”

Scourge shared a beleaguered look with Misfire. “Work? No. Why would you say that?”

The arena owner chuckled a bit, “Well, I’ve heard how the Decepticons are not what they once were.”

Misfire fained outrage, “Who’s spreading these vicious lies!”

Gyconi grinned, “I have a reliable source.”

Scourge decided to be bold. He had nothing to induce Gyconi to assist him, but bravado. “Enough! Lord Megatron demands a…twenty percent cut of your profits!”

The smile on the amphibian’s face disappeared. He leaned back, “Does he?” He steepled his fingers, “How interesting. Four quartexes ago, Megatron took thirty percent. Of course for that, the Decepticons kept me in good supply of…volunteers for my arena.” He sat up, “What do you – I mean, Megatron - offer for twenty percent?”

Scourge hesitated.

Misfire jumped in, “We can get you people for the arena, again.”

Gyconi dropped the pretense, “I don’t think so! I know Megatron is no more; replaced by some unhinged fool!”

Scourge began to defend his former leader. “Who are you to insult Galvatron?”

“Shut up, Decepticon!” shouted the globular man. “Do you think you can come to my arena, my town, and dictate terms? I admit, I feared Megatron, but that was twenty years ago. And you are no Megatron!” He pressed a button on a small device.

The sweep stepped forward. “I may be no Megatron, but I will teach you to fear me.”

The bouncer raised his weapon again. This time, Misfire got the jump on him. The Decepticon grabbed the weapon out of his hands and crushed it. Then, he picked the bouncer up, “I think I owe you some pain, fleshling.”

A beam from an energon weapon smacked into Misfire’s shoulder. It forced him to drop the green-skinned man.

“Where’d that come from?” asked Scourge as his hands became ion blasters.

The red jet looked down the corridor. It was dimly lit, but the figure walked closer. It appeared to be a Cybertronian. His energon pistol was at the ready. The robot’s other hand formed a glowing, purple sword.

“Is that…” Misfire started.

Gyconi seemed pleased with himself, “Meet my greatest gladiator and personal body guard.”

The Cybertronian stepped into the light. It was Blitzwing.


TO BE CONTINUED...

 

Transformers: Machinations
Season 4, Episode 6: “Contact”​

March 2007​

Monicus Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti System

Both Scourge and Misfire stood mystified by the presence of their former comrade. Blitzwing was a triple changer and could form a tank and a miniature MiG fighter. His colors were mostly tan and purple.

His falling out with the Decepticons happened shortly after the Unicron Crisis. The Quintessons were able to fool Galvatron into attacking the Autobots as a distraction. While the Sharkticons were sent to remotely disable all the Cybertronians; leaving Cybertron to be retaken by the Quintessons.

When Blitzwing attempted to bring the plot to Galvatron’s attention, the unstable leader dismissed it and sardonically suggested he ‘Tell it to the Autobots’…which, he did. To end the battle, Blitzwing threatened Galvatron. This perceived betrayal was never forgiven.

The Autobots even offered to take him in afterwards, but Blitzwing didn’t share their values.

Nothing was heard from him since – until now.

Lord Gyconi broke the silence, “What are you waiting for, Blitzwing? Attack them!”

The triple-changer didn’t lower his guard, but offered, “Only if they attack me…or you.”

“I pay you to protect me!” the amphibian began to protest.

The tank/jet cut him off, “And I am! If either of them make an aggressive move, I’ll blow them to bits…but not before.”

The alien bouncer rubbed his arm and guessed, “It seems like our great gladiator is afraid to fight.”

Misfire ventured, “Scourge, come on. We can take ‘em.”

The sweep remained still and looked at his former teammate. Blitzwing was always an able warrior, but there was something different about him. He seemed more resolved, hardened. Scourge had no confidence at all that he could defeat this Blitzwing. The triple-changer was poised to follow through on his threat. There was no arrogance, nor malice on his face. Scourge looked into his spark, and what he saw scared him. The sweep retracted his weapons. “We surrender.”

“We what?” said Misfire.

Scourge looked at his companion and repeated forcefully, “We surrender.”

For a moment, Misfire looked lost. Then, he looked like he was on the verge of a temper-tantrum. He fumed, “No way! I can take this punk!” The red jet charged Blitzwing. In mid-stride, he realized he hadn’t had a chance to get new weapons installed after the Targetmaster fiasco. By then, it was too late.

With his first strike, Blitzwing sliced his energon sword into Misfire’s right arm. The swing nearly severed the appendage. The fight went down hill from there for Misfire. The triple-changer punched the jet in the gut with the barrel of his pistol and fired at point blank range. As Misfire hunched over from the damage, Blitzwing kneed him in face. The impact forced the jet to the carpeted, stone floor and he cried in agony.

The gladiator wrenched his foot into Misfire’s wound and stated evenly, “Choose: life or death.”

Between screams, he yelled, “Life! Life!”

Blitzwing removed his foot. “Wise choice.” Then, he looked to Scourge as if to say, ‘…and are you going to give me any trouble?’

The sweep got the message. He raised his arms up in submission.

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Rachet’s R & R Bay

Inside the repair facility, medically trained Autobots were hard at work fixing their companions on various platforms throughout the bay. The red colored Inferno hunched over Whirl. Several meters away, Firestar worked on Bulkhead. Hotspot attended to Roadbuster. None of the survivors were operational yet. It would take time to get their bodies functional and to reenergize them.

The obvious exceptions to this concern and medical care were to two Decepticons in the room. They had been unceremoniously stuck in a corner. They sat unattended.

Optimus Prime strode into the repair shop, escorted by the reactivation team commander, First Aid. Prime was only slightly taller than the medic. The other doctors barely noticed their arrival. The two walked straight to the Decepticon husks.

As they approached, Prime recognized the old enemies. He informed the medic, “The seeker is Jetstorm. He was Megatron’s air commander before Starscream.” He crouched down and examined the dual-rotor copter for a moment, “I think this was Obsidian, a Decepticon…scientist – of sorts.”

“Prime,” started First Aid, in his soft tone, “I know this is a sensitive issue, but I’d like permission to reactivate them as well.”

The leader stood, crossed his arms and was silent for several moments. Finally, he shook his head, uncrossed his arms and said, “No.”

The medic pleaded, “But Prime, they deserve a chance to…”

Optimus cut him off and stated with conviction, “If you knew what these two have done, you wouldn’t be advocating for them so forcefully.” He took a few steps, “Jetstorm led a group of especially vicious seekers. They came to be known as the ‘Rainmakers’ for their indiscriminate carpet bombing.” He gestured to the other body, “I’ve heard terrible rumors of Obsidian as well. Apparently, he had a penchant for running cruel and painful experiments on his Autobot captives.” He looked to First Aid, “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow these two war criminals to be reactivated.” Prime began to walk away. Before he exited, he turned back. “First Aid, I need your word that you will not attempt to repair Jetstorm or Obsidian.”

The ambulance looked to the floor, then to Optimus, “I promise, Prime.”

The leader nodded and added to console him, “You’re doing excellent work here, First Aid. I obviously picked the right Autobot for the job.”

The Protectobot appreciated the gesture and rejoined, “Thank you, Optimus.”

*****

 

Thank you for your continued interest, everyone.

Earth, Oregon
Metroplex/Autobot City

There were multiple recharging chambers in Autobot city. Some Cybertronians preferred to simply lay and power down while recharging, others would rather remain active. To that end, this recharging chamber resembled a small movie theater. Autobots could sit in the recharging chair and watch human broadcasts.

Mass broadcasts were also part of Cybertronian society before and during the war. Now, of course, one would be hard pressed to find any Cybertronian-made entertainment shows. The parallels between the content of Cybertronian and human broadcasts were a source of constant bewilderment for some.

Hound was more of a nature show guy, but the news was on at the moment. Hot Rod entered and sat down next to – his superior. The former leader was still adjusting to his new station. While, Hot Rod and Hound technically shared the same rank, Ultra Magnus had assigned the jeep as his second-in-command. As the flame-adorned car activated the recharging process, he reminded himself Hound was a humble – and well, respected – ‘bot and would never act superior. “What’s up?”

The jeep tilted his head, but didn’t take his eyes off the screen, “The talking heads are really amping up the anti-Autobot propaganda today.”

Hot Rod turned his attention to the broadcast.

The commentator continued, “…The United States should follow the UN’s example. For 23 years we’ve been harboring these robotic terrorists…”

Another guest, labeled “Autobot apologist” interrupted him, “Don’t you think the term ‘terrorists’ is harsh?”

“Of course, it’s harsh! Look at what the Cybertronians have done to our infrastructure. The economy is trying to recover but constantly feeding energy and resources to the very people responsible is insane! I think this move by the UN is far overdue. We need to take care of our own, not support these robot warmongers.”

The ‘apologist’ tried to defend them, “The Autobots have prevented humanity’s destruction or enslavement numerous times. Furthermore, could you imagine what our technology would be like if we had never made contact with the Autobots back in 1984? I doubt we would have outposts on the moon, let alone throughout the Solar System. Our world would be totally different.”

“But would it be safer?” The host continued his rant. “We agreed to align ourselves with the Autobots 20 years ago because we didn’t know any better! Now, we are a presence in this area of space and should distance ourselves from the Autobots. We are often attacked precisely because of our friendship with the Autobots! We need to stand on our own and not play second fiddle to them anymore! Not only do I applaud the UN’s decision to stop aiding these… machines, I think we should go further. I think we should make them follow all the rules the rest of us do.” He opened his arms, “Have the Autobots paid taxes in all this time? Have any of them been charged with destruction of property? I think they should be compensating us! Not the other way around!”

Hound shook his head. He had heard enough, “Change to channel 136.”

At his command, the screen changed to a scene of exotic fish swimming in an ocean reef.

“Surely, most humans don’t think that way,” said Hot Rod.

The jeep frowned, “I hope not.” He admitted, “It does make me wonder, sometimes, though.”

*****

Sol System
Decepticon Cruiser Revenge, Near Jupiter

The ship ‘gifted’ to Galvatron by Unicron maintained position on the far side of the massive gas giant.

Inside the vessel, final preparations were underway. Cyclonus, Snapdragon, and Soundwave stood on the bridge. The Constructicons were down below maintaining systems.

“No, you fool,” came from Cyclonus, “If we go any further, we risk being detected by early warning systems on Cybertron.”

The triple-changer, Snapdragon, give in, “But what do we do now?”

The newly re-designed Soundwave walked up, “Action plan has already been considered. My new form has stealth characteristics. Infiltration team will covertly disable detection net to allow for Revenge’s landing.”

“Infiltration team?” repeated Snapdragon, “What infiltration team?”

Soundwaves chest cavity opened and several discs ejected. As they did, they transformed and landed on the deck. One after another: Rumble, Frenzy, Ratbat, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, Overkill, Slugfest, and Ravage.

“This infiltration team,” explained Frenzy.

*****

Soundwave stood in the Revenge’s launch bay. There was no exterior door. A field of stars and Jupiter lay beyond. He got a running start and formed a stealth fighter-like jet. The afterburners engaged and he shot off into space.

*****

 

Cybertron, Iacon
Rachet’s R & R Bay

Jazz didn’t much care for hospitals – too depressing. He was on a mission, however, and entered anyway. Whirl, Roadbuster, and Bulkhead were making progress, but still not conscious.

The Reliant captain went to Inferno, who was still hovering over Whirl.

As he approached Inferno from behind, the search & rescue officer said flatly, “No.”

“No, what?” replied Jazz as his arms spread.

The fire truck turned for a moment, “No, I will not go with you on your ‘goodwill’ mission, or whatever it is.”

The Porsche persisted, anyway, “Come on man, Reliant needs a medic in case we run into any trouble out there.”

“You may need a medic, in the future,” rejoined Inferno, “Cybertron does need medics, now.” He returned to his work and reiterated a long standing complaint, “We have plenty of warriors, but only a handful of medical officers. At least warriors get downtime; there’s always maintenance to perform.”

Jazz ventured somewhat sarcastically, “So, is that a definite ‘no?’”

Inferno didn’t look up, “Definitely no.”

The Porsche put his hands on his hips, “Well, nuts.” He scanned the room for another recruit. In truth, he agreed with Inferno. He didn’t want to pull anyone from the important work they were doing here. He also didn’t want to leave his crew without a repair technician.

Firestar, the female search & rescue vehicle, called out, “Hey Jazz, come here and give me a hand.”

He joined her over the large Bulkhead. The patient had some armor removed and his enneads were exposed. Firestar’s hands were deep within him.

“Um,” he said rather squeamishly, “How can I help?”

“I need an extra pair of hands for a second,” she added, “It’s what you get for loitering in this place. You get put to work.”

He grinned, “Yeah, I can see how that was my mistake.”

She gestured with her head, “I need you to attach this tube while I hold it in place.”

Jazz reached for a welding tool and did as she instructed. Once he was done, he commented, “I never could make a clean weld.”

Firestar joshed, “Don’t worry, he’ll never see it.” She pulled her hands out and wiped off some fluids. “Is it true Elita One is going with you?”

He nodded, “Prime wants her to be our ambassador.” He added, “You fembots did a lot to hold down the fort while the rest of us were on Earth. You don’t get enough credit for it.”

She put the cloth down, “Thanks, but don’t call us ‘fembots.’”

“My bad.”

“We were the only Autobots on this planet for a long time,” she remembered. Firestar seemed to get lost in her thoughts for a moment. “Tell you what,” she said, “I’ll go with you on the Reliant.”

This sudden offer surprised Jazz, “Uh, are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said, “First Aid can work on Bulkhead.” She looked at him and put her hands on her hips, “You still need a medic, right?”

He chuckled a bit, “Absolutely.” He offered his hand, “Welcome aboard.”

*****

Nebulon, Uncivilized Lands
Epsilon Endi System

The orange sun was big in the purple sky. Highbrow, a twin-rotor copter, and Brainstorm, a jet, flew low. The tracks they were following wouldn’t last much longer. The ocean was only a few kilometers away.

“There!” Said Arcana from inside the jet’s cockpit.

There were three forms on the beach.

Highbrow quickly identified them, “Cutthroat, Rippersnapper, and Mindwipe.”

Gort, Highbrow’s Nebulon partner looked at the sensor data, “It appears two of them are damaged.”

The teal and white jet dove, “Then the odds are in our favor. Let’s go in.”

*****

 

On the beach, both Rippersnapper and Cutthroat were in status lock. They were in no danger of dying, but without help, they wouldn’t be getting any better. Though he found his injured comrades, Midewipe was still – essentially – alone.

The giant bat heard engine noise. He looked up and saw a jet and a helicopter coming in. He was sure they weren’t Hive machines. It must be Autobots, he concluded. There wasn’t much he could do. He couldn’t outrun them. He couldn’t even transform to meet them robot to robot, since he lacked his head and Nebulon partner. He watched helplessly and the Autobots landed nearby, transformed, and walked up to him.

Mindwipe used the only weapon available to him. He reached out with his mind-influencing signals, targeting Highbrow. “You will attack, Brainstorm.”

Highbrow took no action.

The bat pressed him, “Do as I command!”

From inside Highbrow’s head, Gort explained, “I assumed manual control over Highbrow as a precaution against your mind tricks, Mindwipe.”

Arcana, Brainstorms Headmaster, brought his partner’s weapon to the ready and pointed at the bat. “We know you can’t influence two minds at once! So, stop the games or I’ll disable your systems myself.”

Mindwipe relented. His only card played, he asked, “What do you want from me?”

Brainstorm took over again, “For starters, what happened back at the Old Hive City? Was there a battle?”

The three meter tall bat nodded, “An epic battle, between our glorious leader Galvatron and the vile Zarak.”

Highbrow stepped forward, “Spare us the hyperbole and get to ramifications of the encounter.”

He seemed hesitate to give details.

The Autobot jet extended his arm and charged his cannon, “Tell us what you know, bat.”

Mindwipe looked to the sand, “The battle was lost. The Decepticons were forced to retreat once our mighty leader fell.”

Arcana remarked, “Are you saying Scorponok won? It sure doesn’t look like it.”

The jet chided, “Just like the Decepticons to leave their trash behind.”

The bat growled at the insult. There was little else he could do.

“What about them?” asked Gort, as he pointed to Rippersnapper and Cutthroat.

“They are alive,” answered Mindwipe, “They require repairs.”

Brainstorm took the initiative, “We’ll carry them back to Fortress Maximus. We’ll need all the help we can get when we assault Scorponok.”

The Nebulon inside his head raised the point, “Are sure that’s wise? You’ve all told me how untrustworthy your enemies are.”

“I didn’t say I trusted them,” responded Brainstorm. He looked squarely at Mindwipe, as he elaborated, “but for the moment, the Hive is our mutual enemy. Once Scoponok and Lord Zarak are defeated, all bets are off. But until then, we work together.”

The giant bat nodded slowly, “Agreed.”

*****

 

Cybertron, Iacon
New EDC Outpost

The structure donated by the Autobots was unremarkable looking. The building was a simple cylinder shape, about ten stories high – by human standards. There were a few large windows in the upper section.

Captain Marissa Faireborn was about to criticize the choice of building until she realized it was one of the few buildings intact. The true situation donned on her for the first time. The Autobots were giving them a rare thing on this planet – an undamaged building. Her disapproval quickly turned to a deep appreciation, with a twinge of guilt.

Ambassador Sam Witwicky waited for them at the base of the tower. He was wearing one the highly sought after Autobot exo-suits. It was originally designed specifically for Sam by Wheeljack several years ago. Every military on Earth had tried, and failed, to get the design from the Autobots. “Captain Faireborn and company, welcome to your home away from home!”

A total of twenty-four personnel were assigned to the EDC task force. There were 2 mechs, 8 people in support of those mechs, 12 elite force troopers, two pilots, a mission specialist, and the company commander. They traveled on foot and maintained a defensive formation. Trailbreaker and Blurr escorted them from the shuttle as well.

Faireborn clasped hands with the ambassador as best she could considering the gloves.

Sam offered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to receive your group as you landed, but I had to attend to a personal matter.”

The redheaded captain replied, “Nothing serious, I hope.”

He began to lead her to the pressure doors. “Well actually, my wife and I are having a – debate about our son.”

“Your son?” she asked, wondering if she should prompt him more or not.

Sam reached a panel. He gestured to it, “This will depressurize the antechamber. It’s coded and has a fail safe in case someone is inside.”

“Got it.” She said, “I’ll make sure to brief everyone on it.” Marissa was somewhat surprised when Sam continued on the previous topic.

“Daniel, my son, recently got mauled by a Decepticon called Snapdragon. He is now relying on a life support machine.” He activated the panel.

It would take a moment to remove the atmosphere from inside. An indicator showed the progress.

She offered, “I’m so sorry. Will he be alright?”

The display turned green and the doors parted. The group slowly entered the large antechamber. The interior walls were lined with displays. Unfortunately, most were a bit too high to be useful to humans. Everyone worked their way inside and the exterior doors sealed. A hissing sound started.

Witwicky continued, “He’s as good as he’s going to get. At least, I think so. You see, he’s serving as Arcee’s head. The Headmaster suit incorporates the life support machines. As long as he stays in it, he’ll be fine.”

Faireborn spoke without thinking, “So he’s stuck inside an Autobot’s head?”

Luckily “Spike” didn’t seem to mind, “You see the root of our disagreement, then.”

Suddenly, Marissa regretted being in this conversation. Unfortunately for her, Sam seemed to want to talk about it.

He went on, “I think he already has had the best care we can provide, but Carly is insisting he go to Earth. They can’t do anything for him that hasn’t already been done.”

An auditory tone and a color change in the displays showed the air was now breathable and pressurized. The interior doors slid open. Beyond lay a huge semi-circular bay. Some equipment had already been left by the Autobots. Metal stairs, obviously a human consideration, ran along the wall up to the next level. It looked pretty bare. There would be a lot of additional work to be done. The Autobots, however, already did several modifications to the interior.

The Autobots to thank were still there. Perceptor had his back turned to the group, but as the doors opened, he approached. Also, Beachcomber descended down an Autobot-friendly lift to the ground floor.

Perceptor; whom had recently adopted an alternate form based on a human-designed, manned Mars roving lab; greeted them, “I hope you like what we’ve done with the place.”

The blue and silver dune-buggy added, “We shoulda took ‘before’ and ‘after’ pictures.”

The humans began to remove their Hostile Environment Battle Uniform helmets.

The Autobot scientist couldn’t help himself. He went right up to the mech piloted by Nijo Koin. He didn’t say anything for a few moments while he examined the machine. He finally commented, “Primitive, but functional.”

The Japanese born pilot nodded from within the cockpit, “Thank you.”

Beachcomber had a very, laid back – almost hippy – personality. He pointed up, “Living quarters are upstairs. We built several human-sized rooms up there.”

Perceptor supplemented with a sense of pride, “We’ve thought of everything. There’s temperature control, running water, a galley for preparing your dead animal muscle and such.”

Sergeant First Class Jack Darby unsealed his cockpit, “What about toilets?”

The two Autobots looked at each other. Beachcomber fielded the question, “Ya see, neither one of us have seen the inside of your restrooms. We ah, weren’t really sure how to design it.”

“We understand how your gastrointestinal tracks work, of course,” said Perceptor. “We just don’t know how you go about…I mean, we didn’t know what type of extraction device you preferred.”

“So,” finished Beachcomber, “we built multiple…models for you to choose from.”

Darby mouthed the words ‘extraction device’ to Nijo.

Luckily Faireborn spoke up, “Thank you both for your consideration. I’m sure we’ll manage.” She turned to her company, “Alright, relax for awhile. In a few hours we’ll get the rest of our equipment from the shuttle and set up duty schedules. Dismissed.”

The group dispersed. The mech pilots exited their machines. Most others began to explore the facility or talk to the Autobots.

Sam approached Marissa again, “So what do you think?”

She looked around and said, “I think it will do just fine.”

“I meant about Daniel,” he clarified.

Faireborn mused, “I’m a military brat. I’ve never been married and don’t plan to be anytime soon. But as a military officer, I know a no-win scenario when I see it and I’m wise enough to avoid it.” She nodded respectfully, “Excuse me, Ambassador,” and walked off.

“Spike” smirked to himself and joined a group near Beachcomber and Perceptor. “Ok, let me explain a few things to you, guys.”

*****

 

Alpha Centauri Star System
Near Charr

The two primary stars were at Sky Lynx’s back. The dead world of Charr was looming large.

The planet only gained that name after the Second Cybertronian War. It was, in fact, the Autobots that razed the Decepticon colony of Garik to the ground. The planet was called Atriex, back then. It was the first colony the Cybertronians founded after they liberated themselves from the Quintessons. Only a few remembered the significance of the burnt out world.

*****

Goldbug and Mirage unnecessarily manned stations in Sky Lynx’s cockpit.

“I’m not detecting anything, yet,” he suggested, “We could get a lot more information if you used active sensors.”

The VW bug, formerly known as Bumblebee, looked at his companion, “Yeah, but we’d also be a lot easier to for the Decepticons to find, too.”

“Fret not, little Autobuddies, my ingenious maneuvering will guarantee we land undetected.” The voice was that of their transport.

Mirage, the Formula-1 car, had heard this type of arrogance out of Sky Lynx the whole trip. He couldn’t help but quip, “I just like to say; it’s been a humbling experience spending time with such an elegant and sophisticated ‘bot such as yourself.”

The shuttle didn’t miss a beat, “How generous of you.”

Goldbug covered his mouth to hide his chuckling.

The blue and white car leaned back, smiling, “It’s from the heart.”

Oblivious, Sky Lynx got back to business, “I’m beginning our decent.”

*****

As the shuttle entered the atmosphere, the flames attracted the attention of one-third of Reflector, whom was currently orbiting Charr in the form of a spy satellite. He sent a transmission over the common Decepticon channel, <There’s a vessel heading for the surface. Attempting to identify…” He zoomed in, “It’s the Autobot, Sky Lynx! I’ll keep an eye on him and transmit his trajectory to you.>

The satellite received a series of acknowledgements from the surface.

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Spaceport 12

Jazz could hardly believe how well the Reliant was coming together. She was a beauty. The outer hull was complete. The Reliant stood on her massive thrusters with the help of a gantry. The Vanguard-class cruiser was the apex of Autobot engineering. The ship represented a time when Autobots actively explored the galaxy. When the war broke out, however, they were mostly used as refugee ships – just like the Ark.

His first recruit was Hoist, as engineer. The green and orange tow truck had been hard at work overseeing the restoration. Man - or rather - robot power was hard to muster with reconstruction efforts going on all over the city, but he was able to procure the Technobots to work on the project. It was no small feat to wrestle them away from Grapple. Thanks to them, and the other crew members, the Reliant would be able to launch in a matter of kilocycles.

The captain heard large, fast footsteps entering the domed spaceport. He turned to discover the 40 meter Skyfire passing through the open bay doors.

The space corvette stopped short of him, and asked excitedly, “Let me go with you!”

Jazz looked up, “Why do ya wanna come with us?”

He knelt down, “I was an anthropologist before the war. I’d much rather be getting back to that work. I want to learn more about other worlds and cultures.” He looked down, “Please Jazz, you know I detest being a soldier. And…I’m little more than a ferry service, here.” Skyfire looked into his optics, “I need to get back out there. To do what I’m good at…what I love.”

The Porsche was taken aback by the emotion of his words. There was no way he could deny the large jet’s heartfelt request. “Alright, you sold me.” An afterthought came to him, “but, um, ‘bout the only place you could go in the ship is the hangar bay.”

Skyfire stood. He dwarfed Jazz as much as the Reliant dwarfed him. “That’s ok,” he said, “I don’t mind traveling coach.” He smiled, “Besides, this way I could act as a shuttle, so you don’t have to use all the energy it takes to land and take off again.”

“You mean like a ferry service,” joked Jazz.

The air & space vehicle laughed, “Hey, I’m also good at that!”

*****

 

Monicus Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti System

In the catacombs beneath the Pit of Destruction, Blitzwing escorted Scourge and the damaged Misfire to a prison cell. Misfire used Scourge as a crutch when the triple-changer gestured for them to enter. Once the two Decepticons were in, their former comrade activated the energy bars.

Blitzwing began to walk off when Scourge called out, “What happened to you?”

The tank/jet paused for a moment. Then, he turned and retracted his weapons. He walked up to the bars and considered saying nothing. Finally, he decided to share his story, “I wondered the ruin of Kaon on Cybertron for quite some time after Galvatron exiled me. Eventually, I found an old Decepticon shuttle. Once I repaired it and scrounged up enough energon, I left and wound up here. I walked among the desperate masses for awhile. Then, I tried my hand as a gladiator. Lord Gyconi found my skills to be useful and I went to work for him. I protect him and keep the Pit free of scum; he provides me with all the energon I want.” He darkly mused, “When I come to think of it, Gyconi has done more for me that Galvatron ever did.”

Misfire fumed as he tended to his wounds, “I only wish Galvatron destroyed you, instead of exiling you!”

Scourge, on the other hand, saw an opportunity. He leaned in to whisper to Blitzwing, “Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot, as was Galvatron.”

“Was?” repeated the triple-changer.

The sweep grinned, “Yes, Galvatron was destroyed in a recent battle.” He added with calculation, “I’m sure no other Decepticon – except, maybe Misfire – would harbor any misgivings toward you now. You could return with us to Charr. Who knows, with my help, we could usurp Cyclonus and take control.”

Bltizwing was silent. He and the other triple-changers did attempt a coup once, but that was a long time ago. He shook his head, “I no longer have any desire to lead the Decepticons.”

Scourge was surprised by the response but continued, “Then, join us. We need you, Blitzwing. Release me. Astrotrain is here. With your energon, we could recharge him and return to the rest of the Decepticons.”

The gladiator smirked, “I’m no fool, not anymore. If Galvatron is dead, then the Decepticons are more desperate than ever.” He goaded, “Why did you come here, Scourge? Where you trying to extort energon with that pathetic ploy?”

Now, it was Scourge who was silent. Thus, confirming his suspensions.

“The Decepticons can offer nothing, but ruination.” The tank/jet stepped away from the cell, “The Decepticons died with Megatron, we just didn’t realize it at the time.” He walked down the corridor without looking back.

Dejected, Scourge joined his cellmate on the stone floor. He couldn’t dispute Blitzwing’s assessment. The Decepticons were in their death throws.

*****

Nebulon, Fortress Maximus
Epsilon Endi System

The largest of the Headmasters currently resided on top of a rocky hill and was being used as the base of operations for the Nebulon rebels. Several primitive camps had popped up around the fort.

Pointblank, a red Cybertronian-style sports car, and Brainstorm faced a large screen in the stronghold’s command center.

Optimus Prime filled the display, “Do you believe Mindwipe?”

The teal jet responded, “He has no reason to lie, Prime. And what I saw certainly seems to back up his story.”

The Autobot Supreme Commander rubbed his chin, “If Galvatron was destroyed, we may finally have an opportunity to end this war.” He put his hand down, “I have Goldbug on a recon mission to Charr as we speak. I’ll try to contact him and see if he can confirm this news.” He added, “Treat the remaining Terrorcons. It may help convince the remaining Decepticons to lay down their arms.”

Pointblack’s pessimism got the better of him, “After all this time, do you really think they’ll just give up?”

“Without strong leadership, it is likely the Decepticons will scatter. I doubt many, if any, will choose to return to Cybertron, now that it is under Autobot control.” He paused, “However, it should be made clear to them – if they are willing to respect the values of freedom and self-determination – Cybertron could be a home to them once more.”

The old soldier dared to get his hopes up, “A lasting peace.” He laughed softly, “What will I do with myself?”

Optimus put a hand up, “I’m afraid we’re getting ahead of ourselves. As you well know, Pointblank, this war has almost been won several times before – by both sides.” He nodded, “Thanks for the report, Prime out.”

*****

 

looking good !