Hi Everybody. I have to confess, this is the first time I've been to this forum. I've browsed the site many times, however.

This is my first attempt at writing Transformers fiction. Though, I have written several Star Trek stories, I am still very much an amateur writer. So please, be kind with your criticisms.

Also, don’t be insulted if I don’t respond promptly. I’m not online that often.


Author’s Note: I’m sure I’m not the first one to write fan fiction continuing The Transformers G1 storyline. I don’t count Transformers: Headmasters, since – well, I’m not familiar with it and I’m not a huge fan of the Headmaster/Targetmaster story arc. I intend to pick up immediately where “The Rebirth” multi-part episode left off. There are a few things, however, that I want to avoid. Let’s face it, The Transformers is a cartoon. It has its more “realistic” aspects and its - let’s say… inconsistencies.

In an attempt to make it more believable, here are a few things from the cartoon that I’m going to change.

-No size shifting (i.e. Soundwave can’t shrink into a Walkman- such Transformers will be reformed very quickly in this fiction.)

-No “magic” flying (Unless they’re a plane or have booster rockets, they’re walking…or rolling)

-No inter-stellar travel without aid or able transformer (I remember Michael Bay saying, “I don’t understand why robots need spaceships.” Bay apparently has little grasp of the energy needed for inter-stellar fight.)

-Remember the very first episodes when Transformers got battle damage and had to be repaired? That’s back.

-Prime’s trailer won’t magically disappear.

-Hands/arms transform into weapons, exactly as in the live-action series and Prime. It makes more sense than the guns materializing in their hands from nowhere. However, Transformers must have individual weapons or tools installed. Their hands can’t turn into rocket launchers if they only have a pistol equipped.

-“Mini-bots” (and all other Transformers) are just as large as others based on their alternate form. Pipes was a semi. But his toy was small, so they made him small in the cartoon. I think if you’re going to be a semi, you should be as big as Prime. Also using this logic, Astrotrain is as big as Sky Lynx and Broadside is on par with Trypticon. And yes, if you turn into an F-15, your robot form is about 50 feet tall. The exceptions are “cassettes” – Overkill is not as big as Grimlock. The cassettes’ alternate form has to be able to fit inside Soundwave (or Blaster), so I figured they’re about five feet tall. I also took some liberty with the triple-changers. I based Springer, Sandstorm, Octane, and Blitzwing on their ‘smaller’ forms. Also, Ultra Magnus and Motomaster’s trailers aren’t part of their robot bodies or, they’d be 60 feet tall. It also came as a shock to me that, realistically, Predaking is about the same size as Warpath. I understand it might take some time to adjust to that visualization. It did for me.

-“Spike” and “Sparkplug” are nicknames. Their ‘real’ names I barrowed from the live-action movies.

-Each Cybertronian faction has – or will get - their own symbol (i.e.: Junkions and Paradrons). Some sub-factions also have a variant symbol – Dinobots (barrowed from TF: Fall of Cybertron), Predacons (barrowed from TF: Prime), and Insecticons.

-I envision the Transformers to be as complex as their live-action movie versions, but easily recognizable as their G1 character. I also really like the glowing highlights seen on the Cybertronians in TF: WfC and TF:FoC, so I might be mentioning that.

I’m sure there are one or two more things I’ve altered, but those are the major points.

The following, assuming I stick with it, is what I would have liked to see become of the original series. A word of warning, if you’re not familiar with the G1 storyline, it may be confusing. I’m not doing much back tracking. This fiction is written by a fan, for fans. Hence, “fan fiction,” huh?

I sincerely hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

 

Transformers: Machinations​

Season 4, Episode 4: “Picking Up”​

March 2007​

Cybertron, City-State of Uraya
Site of the Battle of Fortress Maximus

Cybertron still seemed to glow slightly as the energy released by the sun permeated the planet. The radiance was fading quickly, however. The natural tarnished gunmetal of the landscape was returning.

Optimus Prime, in semi mode, rolled on the recent battlefield. He transformed slowly, almost in reverence. His trailer opened up to reveal a badly needed field repair station. It was quickly utilized by the walking wounded.

He surveyed the site. It was a pyrrhic victory. Yes, Cybertron had been reenergized, but many Autobots had fallen. The Aerialbots were non-functional, as were Ultra Magnus, Arcee, and most of the Protectobots. As fate would have it, First Aid was still operational and already starting the repair process.

One of the robotic ambulance’s hands had become a laser scalpel. He was hard at work. Prime hovered over him. “What do you need?”

Without looking away from his task, he responded, “I need help. I need to take all the wounded to a proper repair building. I can only do so much here.”

The Autobot leader stood to his full eight and one-half meter height, “You’ll have it.” He transmitted over the common Autobot channel, <Inferno, Grapple, Hoist, Firestar, Perceptor, come to my location immediately to assist in repairs. Cosmos, Skyfire, Broadside, Omega Supreme, I need you to start transporting damaged Autobots to Ratchet’s R&R Bay in Iacon.>

A wave of various acknowledgements came over the channel.

“Don’t worry, Prime,” reassured First Aid, “we’ll get ‘em back up and running. It will just take some time.”

The leader couldn’t help but say in hushed tones, “If their sparks are still functional.”

All Cybertronians have a spark – personality component, laser core, or lifeforce – which they received from Vector Sigma, a massive super-computer. Not even Cybertronian science can fully explain how Vector Sigma accomplishes this, yet alone reproduce it.

Prime took a step back and reformed a semi and left without his trailer. He activated his comm., <Jazz, organize a search party. I want to make sure the Decepticons are gone.> He added, wearily, <at least for now.>

*****

Inter-stellar Space
Galvatron’s Space Cruiser, the Harbinger

Onslaught, the anti-aircraft vehicle, pounded his fist against the metal bulkhead, “The Autobots were defeated! We could be masters of Cybertron, right now!”

The two-headed dragon, Hun-Grr, added, “If only that moron, Galvatron, hadn’t wanted to open that stupid energy chamber.”

Rippersnapper, a fellow Terrorcon, thought aloud, “We need to stop listening to stupid leader.”

“Absolutely,” commented Brawl, “Megatron at least used to make sense. But Galvatron…Galvatron’s a poor substitute.”

Swindle, the orange jeep rose from the deck, “When we get back to Charr, we should stand up to Galvatron and tell him what for!”

The rousing response Swindle had hoped for never came as righteous indignation petered out into passing ambivalence.

As he measured the enthusiasm – or lack of it – slowly, the Combaticon sat back down.

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Council Chambers of the Primes

Optimus walked somberly into the council chambers. He hadn’t been in the Prime Council Chambers in over four million years. The large, domed room was dark, but for starlight shining though a hole in the ceiling, no doubt caused by some ancient Decepticon shell. Thirteen pedestals ringed the room. Behind them, were alcoves which housed oversized, golden statues of the founding thirteen council members. One statue had completely collapsed. Optimus recognized some – Beta Prime, Vector Prime, Guardian Prime, Sentinel, Zeta – the rest of the names had been lost to history.

“The Council of Thirteen,” thought Prime. Shortly before the war started in earnest, he was made part of this council – at the behest of Alpha Trion. As he remembered, it was the council whom Megatron originally blamed for the war. Megatron accused the council of being too elitist and uncaring for the plight of the average Cybertronian. Optimus didn’t entirely disagree with Megatron on that point. In time, however, Prime realized it for the excuse it was. Megatron had no concern for the downtrodden. He cared only for usurping the Council and taking the power for himself.

The ghosts of this place continued to whisper to Optimus. They were interrupted by metal footfalls entering the chamber. It was Jazz.

“Everybody from the search teams has reported back, Prime. No sign of Decepticons on Cybertron. Most of ‘em evacuated ahead of the plasma surge,” he added with a chuckle, “and I hear Scorponok had a real blast as he was leavin’. Sent him off, who knows where.”

Without turning around Prime surmised, “Most likely, the Decepticons will rendezvous on Charr”

“Probably,” agreed Jazz.

Optimus continued, “Now that Cybertron is producing its own energon, Galvatron will only redouble his efforts to reclaim it.”

“Dang fool just tried blowin’ this planet up. Now, he’ll want it back. I sure wish he’d make up his mind.”

Prime walked toward the robotic Porsche and laid a hand on his shoulder, “Come on old friend, we have a lot of work ahead of us. It’s time this place was used again.”

*****

Scorponok
Inter-stellar space

Scorponok, the massive headmaster, traveled at faster than light speeds through the void. It was currently in city form. It was much more tranquil outside this “over-sized shopping center” than inside.

Galvatron pointed his arm-mounted fusion cannon directly at Lord Zarak, “You will take us to Charr or I will make sure this thing never has a head again!”

The green-skinned Zarak, despite being one-fifth the Cybertronian’s size, responded evenly, “Scorponok is programmed to respond to my commands alone. Without me, it is useless. By killing me, you will only doom yourself to floating aimlessly in space for the rest of your miserable existence.”

The Decepticon leader growled to himself and lowered his weapon, “My ship, Trypticon, and Astrotrain, are going to Charr and I intend to join them!”

“I have no concern for your civil war, Galvatron,” stated the Nebulon Hive commander, “We must return to Nebulos to ensure the rebels don’t take advantage of my absence.”

In an adjacent section, Cyclonus and Scourge heard the argument, but were already involved in a conversation of their own.

“It’s a shame Galvatron’s…trip to Trokulan didn’t have a more positive effect on his mental state,” offered Scourge, the Cybertronian-style space fighter, also known as a Sweep.

Cyclonus snapped, “Hold your tongue! You’re talking about our leader.”

“Our leader,” continued Scourge, “Is completely unstable. It was his plan to open the Plasma Energy Chamber! It was his plan to destroy the Earth, the Sun, and Cybertron – our home! Had that star gone nova, we’d probably all be dead.”

“I admit,” the purple, alien jet fighter said, “I have had trouble following his orders as of late.”

Scourge leaned in, “Because you’re not insane.” He added, “It’s you who should be leading the Decepticons, not that psycho.” The sweep braced himself for the slap that didn’t come. Instead, Cyclonus seemed to be considering his words.

“No,” finally came from Cyclonus, “No, I am no leader. I’m a soldier.”

“Then what can we do about it?”

Cyclonus thought for several moments, “Nothing.”

Several meters away, Galvatron tried a new tact, “Alright, if you’re so concerned about the rebels on your world, let me call in some Decepticon reinforcements.”

The one-eyed Zarak saw through the façade, “If I allow you to call for your Decepticons, you will most likely order them to attack Scorponok. No, I don’t think so. Here is my compromise: We will go to Nebulos. Your troops originally arrived there in a space vessel.”

Galvatron interjected, “Cyclonus said that shuttle was damaged and captured by the Autobots and your rebels!”

Undeterred by his outburst, Zarak said, “We can get it back from the rebels and repair it. Then, you can be on your way.”

“You forget,” slyly began Galvatron, “Five of my soldiers won’t have heads if your people stay behind. The process must be reversed!”

Zarak hesitated for a moment, but not long, “Of course, Galvatron, of course.”

*****

Cybertron, Iacon

Optimus Prime stood on a damaged roadway, looking up at the sky. Cybertron’s atmosphere was thin. Even during the day, the stars could be seen through the clouds.

Hot Rod rolled up in car mode and transformed. “You called for me, Prime.”

“Yes,” the current holder of the Martix of Leadership said. “I was impressed how you executed your role as leader.”

“Really?” Hot Rod said with some disbelief. “Um, thanks. I did my best.”

“Give yourself more credit,” Optimus implored, “As Rodimus, you opened Cybertron to trade and you held an inter-stellar peace conference here. You made Cybertron relevant in this region of space, again. You even repelled repeated Decepticon attacks.” He paused to allow Hot Rod to digest the compliment. “I intend to build on what you started here.”

He was more somber now, “Thank you, Prime. That means a lot.”

Prime decided to get to the point, “How would you feel about becoming my second-in-command here on Cybertron?”

Hot Rod physically stepped back, “I…I don’t think so, Prime. I mean, thanks for the ringing endorsement, but I don’t think I was made to have quite that much responsibility. I think I need to be just plain Hot Rod for a while.”

Optimus respected the decision. He even envied it, just a little – though, he would never show it. “Very well, Hot Rod.”

“Besides,” the former leader began, “Ultra Magus is the best lieutenant you could ask for - once he gets up and running, that is.”

“Thanks to the repair crew, he already is. He will be, however, returning to Earth.” He placed his hand on his chin and removed it, “I don’t suppose you have a recommendation for me?”

*****

 

Cybertron, Iacon
Council Chambers of the Primes

The council chambers had not quite been restored to their former glory, but at least the rubble had been picked up and the hole was patched. Lighting was also restored.

Prime did not walk in alone this time. In tow, he had: Sandstorm, Kup, Ultra Magnus, Grapple, Jazz, Elita One, First Aid, Wreck-Gar, the Headmaster Brainstorm with the Nebulon rebel Arcana, and Sam “Spike” Witwicky. None of them fully knew what Optimus had in store for them.

Once they were in the center of the chambers, Prime addressed them. “For those of you who do not know the significance of this place, it was the seat of government for all Cybertronians for seven million years. From here, a council of 13 led us through peace…and war.” He paused for a moment of reflection. “They all held the title of ‘Prime.’ While I think it’s premature to found a new Council of Primes, I do wish to utilize this place for a new council, an Autobot Command Council.”

The group stood silent, waiting for what was next.

Optimus continued, “I trust all of you as advisors and I’ve come to rely upon your talents and your insights. Please, take a podium.”

Each, some more confused than others, walked to a podium. “Spike” stood in front of his, since it towered over him.

Prime elaborated, “This shall once again be our council chambers. We will meet here on a regular basis to keep apprised on each others’ work.”

“But Prime,” interceded First Aid, “Why us? Why me? I’m not even the leader of the Protectobots.”

“Because,” he explained, “I have assigned each of you a task to oversee. You, First Aid, will locate and reactivate the Autobots here on Cybertron that have been left in status lock during the war.”

“Prime, that will take forever. And I’m still working on the others.”

“I don’t expect any of you to perform your tasks by yourself, but there are only so many Autobots. So, we need to coordinate our efforts. That is one reason why I wanted us all in the same room.” He continued, “Kup, you will continue your role as Chief of Cybertronian Security. Your priority is to repair our defenses in case of Decepticon attack.”

The elder Autobot said, without missing a beat, “You got it, Prime.”

“Ultra Magnus,” said Optimus as he looked at him, “Now that Cybertron is so close to Earth, our two planets must coordinate security. You will be in charge of all Autobots assigned there.”

Always the model soldier, he rejoined, “Yes, Optimus.” He added as an afterthought, “Hopefully, before our next meeting, some hologram projectors can be installed in this room.”

“Spike” stepped forward wearing his Headmaster exo-suit, “Since we’re on the subject of Earth, could we maneuver Cybertron into its own orbit around the sun? Its proximity to Earth is causing some tidal and weather problems.”

The Autobot leader nodded, “Of course, “Spike.” He turned, “Grapple, you have your first priority.”

“Mine?”

“You are to lead the planetary reconstruction team. Start with Iacon and work your way out. But before that, get those rockets Galvatron made back online and get us into a stable Solar orbit and speed up the rotation to increase the gravity slightly.”

The Autobots’ resident architect shrugged his shoulders, obviously overwhelmed, “Um, alright.”

“Wreck-Gar,” Prime went on, “I recognize the Junkions as independent from the Autobots, but I’d still like to maintain an alliance with your people.”

The Junkion leader offered in his unique flare, “There’s a lifetime guarantee on all our products and a bumper to bumper warranty!”

“Um, good to hear it,” said Prime. “We could use your help in repairing our wounded.”

“Our antacid works nearly twice as fast as our competitors and without the chalky taste!”

The only thing Optimus could muster was an awkward, “Ok, then.”

“What about us?” chimed Sandstorm.

“Us?” repeated Ultra Magnus.

Sandstorm, the buggy/dual-rotor helicopter, elaborated, “Yeah, ‘us,’ the Paradron refugees. Nearly one thousand of us came to Cybertron after Rodimus Prime decided to vaporize Paradron.”

Ultra Magnus came to the defense of his former leader, “Rodimus and I did what we had to do to prevent the Decepticons from getting your planet’s energon.”

“And made us homeless in the process,” Sandstorm retorted. “Not only that, but you dragged us into your war. That’s the reason we left Cybertron in the first place!”

Kup step in, “If it weren’t for the Autobots, you and all the Paradrons would still be slaves to the Decepticons. Show some appreciation, young proto-form.”

Optimus raised his hand and the debate stopped, “Sandstorm, I also recognize you and all the Paradrons as an independent people. I won’t order your people to do anything. But seeing how you’re on Cybertron, we would ask for your help in reconstructing it.”

“A lot of us have already begun to rebuild an area in Praxus. It’s where most of us have settled.”

Prime reiterated, “I want to keep a close connection between the Autobots and the Paradrons as well. I don’t want your people to feel isolated.”

Sandstorm acknowledged the gesture, “Thank you, Prime.”

“Speaking of independent people,” piped up Arcana from within Brainstorm’s head, “The Nebulons must return home. The Hive has never been so vulnerable.”

Optimus nodded, “I understand our friendship formed out of necessity. If the Headmasters wish stay on Nebulon and fight the Hive, I will not object. But it must be their individual choice.”

Arcana finished the Autobot’s thought, “And if anyone requests to undo the Headmaster procedure, I will accommodate them.”

The Cybertronian-style pickup truck, Kup, spoke up, “I think I speak for Hot Rod and Blurr when I say, I don’t think we’ll be returning to Nebulos. Sorry.”

“I understand,” replied the green-skinned Nebulon.

Prime said to Arcana and Brainstorm, “Speak to the others that are bonded to Nebulons. Once everyone decides, Fortress Maximus can take you back home.”

The human in the room added, “I’ll separate myself from Cerebros. So he’ll no longer be a Headmaster, but he’ll still act as Fortress Maximus’ head.” He looked to Brainstrom/Arcana, “I’m sorry, there is simply too much I have to attend to.”

“So, it will be up to Cerebros to take us home.”

Prime stepped up, “I have a feeling Cerebros will want to return to Nebulos.”

Arcana nodded, “Very well. We shall leave as soon as I have asked the remaining Headmasters and Targetmasters if they want to join us.”

“Jazz, Elita One,” concluded Optimus, “I have a special mission for you two. Meet me at Spacedock 12 outside the city once I return from Nebulos.”

The two looked at each other. Obviously, their curiosity peaked.

Brainstorm asked, “You’ll be going to Nebulos, Prime?”

“Yes, only to see you off. I won’t be staying. There is much work to do here on Cybertron.” Prime looked around. Pride swelled within him. Cybertron could finally get back on its feet. “We’ll reconvene here every megacycle from now on, dismissed.”

As the others filed out, “Spike” caught up with Optimus, “One more thing.”

“Yes.”

The United Nations Ambassador to Cybertron relayed, “You’re aware of the joint United Nations/Confederation of Sovereign States’ special unit known as Earth Defense Command, right?”

“Yes, Rodi…Hot Rod has informed me about it. The Autobots assigned to Earth will continue to work with them.” He added, “It’s good to see your planet’s factions cooperating in such a way.”

Sam cocked his head, “For the moment, anyway.” He refocused, “The EDC has officially requested that I ask your permission to establish a military outpost on Cybertron.”

“Spike, I can’t be responsible for the welfare of humans on Cybertron. I don’t know when the Decept…”

“Prime,” interjected Sam, “with all due respect, the Autobots have had a de facto military outpost on Earth for over 20 years. And you were just talking about coordinating security between our two planets. Plus, thanks to Cybertronian technology, we can hold our own.”

“I never authorized Cybertronian weapons technology to be shared with your people,” observed Prime.

Sam stated, “None the less we have it. Face it Prime, some Decepticons sold technology to the highest bidder. Cybertronian technology is all over Earth, now. In fact, it’s become a bit of an arms race. Which ever country can get and develop the most Cybertronian tech wins.”

Optimus seemed to sigh, “That’s not what I wanted for your race, ‘Spike’.”

“I know.” Sam, however, still lingered for an answer to his question and Prime knew it.

Feeling resigned to the situation, Optimus relented, “Very well, Spike. Earth Defense Command may have its outpost.”

*****

 

Scorponok
Inter-stellar Space

Galvatron, Cylonus, and Scourge met deep in Scorponok’s bowels. They spoke in hushed tones amid the clanking pistons and spinning machinery.

“Zarak will never allow us to leave Nebulos,” surmised Galvatron. “If we reach that planet, the Hive will no doubt try to turn all of us into those…head things.”

Cyclonus nodded, “I believe you’re right, Lord Galvatron. Zarak cannot be trusted.”

“But,” observed Scourge, “we can’t get a signal out. Scorponok is jamming all outgoing transmissions.”

“I know that, fool,” snapped the Decepticon leader. “Which is why, I want you to leave the jamming field and get a signal to the others. Tell them to intercept Scorponok and launch a full-scale attack.”

Scourge repeated, “Leave the jamming field? How?”

“By going outside!”

The sweep offered with false humility, “Forgive me, but won’t I be left drifting in space?”

Cyclonus attempted to reassure him, “The other Decepticons can pick you up along the way. No need to be concerned.”

“That’s right,” Galvatron stated, “Now, get out there and call for reinforcements!”

*****

The internal spaces of Scorponok were cramped. Apparently, Lord Zarak didn’t give much thought to accommodating twelve meter tall Cybertronians aboard. Scourge was smart enough to know the Hive’s members would be monitoring the loading bay. The only other way he knew to get out of this hulk was through the hole created in the hull by the human during the rescue of that female Autobot. Luckily, in addition to the Headmasters, Targetmasters, and Galvatron, there were only a handful of Nebulons on board.

It was rather easy to make his way to the detention center. It was sealed due to the hull breach. Scourge looked down the corridor. No one was nearby. After discovering the access panel wouldn’t work, the sweep decided to try to force the door. It took some doing, but once he was able to pry his fingers into the seam, the hatch slid open. A hurricane of air flew passed him as it was blown into the vacuum of space. As quickly as he could, he entered the detention center and resealed the door. He hoped the change in air pressure wasn’t detected.

He quickly found the breach. It was hard to miss. In the silence, he hesitated. Once he flew out that hole, he would immediately fall out of the slipstream corridor which allowed them to travel faster than light. In space fighter mode, he had enough speed and power to travel within a star system, but not from one star to another. He had to put faith in his fellow Decepticons. Not something he could do easily. He knew Galvatron would never mount a search for him if things should go wrong. What choice did he have? Become a Nebulon robot-zombie?

Scourge transformed and hovered for a moment. There was no going back now. He engaged his afterburners and flew out the breach.

*****

Cybertron
Fortress Maximus

A group gathered, literally, at the feet of the enormous Autobot.

Arcana, still functioning as Brainstorms head, started, “Thank you Chromedome, Hardhead, Highbrow, Crosshairs, Pointblank, Sureshot, Cerebros, and –of course – Brainstorm, for agreeing to help us rid Nebulos of the Hive once and for all. With all of us working together, I’m sure it will only be a matter of weeks before we completely destroy the Hive’s machines and liberate our people.”

Hardhead, a Cybertronian tank, spoke for the group, “Well, it didn’t seem right to leave the job half-finished.”

Fortess Maximus transformed into city form. It took several seconds for the process to be complete. Cerebros stepped out of the vessel, “The rebels can use Fortress Maximus as a base of operations, but I will not be participating in any offensive attacks. I’ve seen far too much fighting during our own war. Can you live with that?”

The Nebulon leader accepted his terms. Arcana had been made aware of Cerebros’ aversion to battle. He continued, “Well then, we should be going. Optimus Prime and Arcee,” he gestured to them, “will by joining us on Fortress Maximus.”

The Autobot leader added, “Arcee and I will be returning to Cybertron on a shuttle that is already waiting for us in orbit and will escort us there.”

The binary bonded Cybertronians and Nebulons, along with Prime and a newly repaired Arcee, boarded the huge base. Shortly thereafter, it began to ascend, leaving massive plums of fire in its wake.

*****

Cybertron, Iacon
Shuttle Hanger Three

Inside the huge hanger bay Ultra Magnus had gathered the Autobots. During the recent battle even the Autobots assigned to Earth had arrived. It was a rare meeting with nearly 70 Autobots attending. The Aerialbots and most of the Protectobots were noticeably absent. The ‘bots were scattered about, most standing, some were sitting on cargo crates. The larger Autobots - Omega Supreme, Cosmos, Broadside, Skyfire, and Sky Lynx - stood just outside the open bay.

Ultra Magnus addressed the crowd. “Optimus Prime has ordered us to divide our forces. You have some options. We are asking for volunteers first. I’ll need some to go back to Metroplex on Earth.”

Before he could continue, several hands went up, accompanied with a whistle, a ‘right here,’ and an ‘Oh yeah.’ It was to be expected. A few Autobots seemed to prefer Earth over Cybertron. The hands belonged to: Hound, Hot Rod, Sunstreaker, Tracks, and Blaster.

“Alright,” Magnus said, “I’ll need a few more.” He shouted up, “Broadside, you’re recruited. You’ll also be our transportation there.”

The colossal ‘bot nodded evenly, “Understood.”

“Seaspray,” the general continued, “It makes sense for you to go as well.”

A gurgling sound accompanied his voice, “Fine by me, Magnus.”

The green and yellow triple-changer, Springer, showed interest, “I could go, too.”

Magnus struck him down, “No, Prime mentioned he may have plans for you.”

“What sorta plans?” he inquired.

“I’ll let Optimus explain that when he returns from Nebulos,” Magnus rejoined. He spoke to the group again. “Alright, Kup will be in charge once we leave for Earth.” He looked to the old ‘bot, “Take who you need for security.” He looked to everyone else, “The rest of you need to either be helping Grapple in reconstruction efforts or First Aid in repair and reactivation duty. Dismissed.”

*****

 

Wow. This is pretty good, keep it up!

 

Thank you, Combaticon711. I think I will...  

*****

Inter-stellar Space

Scorponok had long since disappeared. Scourge, in space fighter mode, drifted in the dark. It had been hours since he first started transmitting toward Charr. He repeated the Cybertronian message once again, <Scourge to any Decepticons, Galvatron orders an immediate attack on Scorponok. Lock on to my signal and converge.>

Nothing but inter-stellar static hissed on his transceiver.

Finally, something broke the silence, <Mess… eived. En ro…ur location.> It was Soundwave’s unmistakable voice. Scourge had never been so happy to hear that monotone noise. Soundwave was nothing if not reliable. He would be saved.

*****

Scorponok
Inside the Nebulon Star System (Epsilon Endi)

Lord Zarak sat in council with the other members of the Hive. All wore exo-suits. They made sure the doors were locked. They wouldn’t want their conversation to reach the wrong people.

Zarak continued, “The key is to land in the Old Hive City.” He checked a chronometer on his suit, “Which, we will be doing in a matter of minutes. Once there, our machines will subdue the Decepticons as easily as they did before.”

Krunk, the leader’s personal body guard questioned, “Are we gonna turn all of ‘em into Headmasters?”

“Yes,” Zarak confirmed. “But with one important difference. Instead of allowing them to retain their consciousness, we will delete it.”

Another Nebulon, Blowpipe, nodded, “Leaving their bodies intact, but not their minds.”

“Precisely.”

Freakus, the Targetmaster assigned to Scourge spoke up, “I haven’t seen my partner in hours. Something could be up.”

Zarak looked around with his good eye, “It’s too late to worry about it. We will search for him once we land and we secure our new ‘allies.’ Time will be of the essence.”

*****

Inter-stellar Space

Scourge’s sensors picked up an incoming slipstream corridor. Oh, he was so relived. He was not looking forward to going into status lock and possibly never being found. The signature came up on him fast. He could now identify the object as Trypticon! “Thank the maker”, he thought. The Decepticon dinosaur was nearly on top of him. …and then kept on going. He opened a channel, <No! No! Come back! Trypticon? Soundwave? Somebody!> The giant beast now faded from his sensors. <Come back!>

Just as he was ready to break down in agony, he picked up the Harbinger’s signal. It was the ship Unicron provided Galvatron. <Hey! I’m sending out a beacon. Come and get me!>

Soundwave’s voice came over the com, <Inefficient use of time, standby.>

<Standby! Standby! What do you think I’ve been doing for the last milliquartex?> The Harbinger passed him just as Trypticon had.

Despair was quickly replaced by rage. <Damn you to the Pit! I hope you all rust from the inside out and then get ate by scraplets!>

What he didn’t notice was Astrotrain falling out of stream and moving within half a kilometer of him.

His comm. came to life. The Decepticon shuttle stated, <Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll just engage my super-luminal engines and…>

<Noo!,> pleaded Scourge, <Stay right there! I was just kidding around. I knew someone would come and get me.>

<Of course you did,> commented Astrotrain.

*****

Nebulos, Old Hive City
Epsilon Endi Star System

Lord Zarak looked at a large screen in the command center. It showed what was left of Old Hive City. Apparently, the rebels used his very own machines to construct that other city-sized Headmaster. He turned to Krunk, “It will take months to rebuild what the rebels stole from us!”

“Will it affect our plans for our passengers?” asked the bodyguard.

The Nebulon leader took a breath, “No. We are already close enough to command the machines on the surface. I will prepare our homecoming.”

*****

 

The Decepticons gathered in the loading bay, Scorponok’s main exit. Galvatron turned to the jets. “Cyclonus, Misfire, Slugslinger, Triggerhappy, as soon as this door opens, I want you to transform and begin attacking this station and every other machine Zarak has waiting for us.”

Slugslinger stated what everyone thought, “The five of us can’t take on Scorponok. What about the Headmasters?”

Galvatron spat, “They can no longer be trusted. Not with those organic creatures infesting their heads. If they are true Decepticons, they’ll fight. If not, destroy them like the rest.”

Skullcruncher, Mindwipe, Weirdwolf, Apeface, and Snapdragon were imposing Decepticons, with or without robotic heads. “My lord,” began Cyclonus, “Dismissing half of our current forces will make the raid even more difficult.”

The red Cybertronian fighter jet, Misfire, dared ask, “And what’s our goal and our exit strategy? Are we supposed to just fly around this thing like gnats until…”

His questioning was cut short by Galvatron’s fist. “You will fight until you are destroyed or the Hive is!”

The hatch began to open and the ramp started to extend.

“Now, Decepticons!” ordered Galvatron.

The fliers transformed and made for the still opening gap. Galvatron engaged his boosters, jumped out, and landed nearly 30 meters away. He found himself amidst dozens of Hive machines. Most were tracked vehicles with various deadly appendages attached to them. They targeted him and began to snap, claw, and fire at him.

Galvatron immediately leveled his fusion cannon at the nearest machine. He fired and it exploded quiet nicely. He grabbed the claw of a second and climbed on top of it, bashing its hull and exposing its innards. Another blast of destructive energy was given to a third.

In the melee, Galvatron noticed the Headmasters – minus their heads and in beast form – were joining the fight. The orange wolf pounced on a machine, gnawing at it. The robotic alligator wasn’t fairing as well. It was in the jaws of a machine. The giant bat seemed to be fleeing. Apeface and Snapdragon also had a jet fighter form and had joined the fight in the air.

Galvatron didn’t have time to feel pride or disgust. All he experienced was bloodlust. The next sound of crunching metal and circuitry was all he lived for now.

The tide of the battle seemed to be turning in the Decepticon’s favor. Many of the machines were scrapped. Enough, in fact, that Galvatron had a moment to think. He saw Scorponok’s ramp begin to close. “No! You can’t escape me so easily, Zarak!” He used his booster rockets to jump into the closing hatch, but it was too late. Instead, the Decepticon leader met only Scorponok’s hull. He transmitted and verbalized, “Decepticons, target all your fire on Scorponok!”

The fighter jets swarmed the monstrous base and unloaded all their firepower upon it. The beasts were busy engaging what was left of the machines. Galvatron utilized his boosters to go into a hover and blasted Scorponok at what he thought might be its weak points. The massive robot took the punishment.

Gears began to shift, metal plates slid. Scorponok was transforming in to robot mode.

“Decepticons, fight for your lives!” cried Galvatron.

Once Scorponok had fully taken form, he stood over 250 meters. Lord Zarak spoke for the colossus, “Decepticons, accept your fate. You are now part of the Hive.”

“Never!” screamed Galvatron. He boosted himself toward Scorponok’s face and let loose a barrage of fire. Scorponok’s claw snatched him out of the air and began crushing the Decepticon leader.

Cyclonus saw his liege’s plight and targeted the arm holding him. It was no use. Energon began to leak out of Galvatron’s mouth and eyes as the pressure became catastrophic. Scorponok then threw him across the city’s ruins. The second-in-command swiftly went to find his leader.

The battle quickly took a downward spiral. Apeface was blown out of the sky by a well placed mortar from Scorponok. What hit the ground was little more than scrap. Weirdwolf was crushed underfoot. The alligator, Skullcruncher, had also been mangled beyond repair. Mindwipe was no where to be found.

Snapdragon was the first to suggest to the remaining jets, <Let’s get out of here!>

Before the others could respond, a huge purple glow filled a nearby cloud. An immense energy beam emerged and smacked Scorponok in the chest. The force nearly knocked him to the ground.

Trypticon descended with a gigantic plume of dirt and a substantial tremor. His ramp lowered. Both the Stunticons and the Predacons exited. The two combiner teams wasted no time. The group of Earth cars formed Menasor, while the beasts combined into Predaking. The gestalts were still only up to Scorponok’s ankles. Trypticon, on the other hand, was only slightly smaller than the gigantic Hive robot.

The reptilian city roared and launched several mortars at the scorpion. Zarak tried to utilize interceptor missiles, but some still got through and impacted Scorponok with a terrible force. Menasor and Predaking followed up with a series of savage energon-sword attacks to the monster’s feet. Scorponok reached down and backhand Menasor with such force that he flew into a nearby outcropping of trees.

The Harbinger broke through the clouds. It didn’t attempt to land, but several robots air dropped out of its cargo bay. As they fell, the Combaticons and the Terrorcons merged into their respective gestalts. Sixshot jumped out, formed a star fighter, and joined the fray. Bruticus launched a salvo at Scorponok as he fell. Abonimus opted for a melee attack and landed on the massive robot’s shoulder, scratching and biting.

Scorponok grabbed Abonimus’ torso with one claw and his legs with the other and ripped the combined Decepticon in two. Fluids leaked onto Predaking below. The remnants of the Terrorcons were thrown at Trypticon.

The giant dinosaur advanced on Scorponok, firing along the way. The robotic scorpion returned the favor. The combiners had to flee to avoid being trampled. Both enormous robots took heavy damage, but kept coming at each other. They finally came close enough to grapple. Trypticon went to bit Scorponok’s head, but his claw managed to clamp down on the Tyrannosaur’s jaw. Trypticon flailed about, but his arms were useless and he couldn’t get enough momentum to whip the Hive creation with his tail. Scorponok used his other claw to begin pummeling the dinosaur’s hull.

The gestalts and jets kept their distance, but continued to hit Scorponok with ranged fire. It didn’t seem to be doing much good.

*****

From the sky, Cyclonus spotted Galvatron. He transformed and joined his leader. Galvatron lay face down in the dirt. Cyclonus repositioned him, “Lord Galvatron, do you still function?”

His body was horribly crumpled. His eyes barely glowed red. Galvatron’s power was fading. It was clear the damage was critical. He moved his head up, “Cyclonus, restore me as I once was.”

“Yes, Lord Galvatron, I’ll…”

“No,” he managed, “restore me…restore me…to Megatron. Take me to Vector Sigma. Repair my mind. Make me like I was before Unicron mutilated me.”

Cyclonus was shocked, but none the less pleased to hear those words come from his leader. “I swear, as long as your spark is active, I will remold you to your former glory, Lord Megatron.”

Galvatron’s eyes flickered for a moment and then, went dark.

He had gone into status lock, a type of protective coma. Whatever damage had been done to Megatron’s mind - either by Unicron or by the plasma imbalance he suffered from - could only be repaired by Vector Sigma.

Cyclonus looked up and saw Astrotrain enter the atmosphere. <Decepticons, our leader has fallen. Retreat and rally on Charr.> Cyclonus transformed, engaged a tractor beam on Galvatron’s body, and ascended to the Harbinger.

For Trypticon, disengaging from Scorponok was easier said than done. All the gestalts focused their firepower on the claw holding the tyrannosaurus. Finally, Trypticon was free. It was a running fire fight while everyone boarded. The Harbinger and Astrotrain provided enough covering fire for Trypticon to lift off.

Scorponok was in no shape to give chase. Neither side could rightly claim victory.

*****

 

Thanks to everyone who is reading. I hope you are enjoying it.


*****

Nebulos, Fortress Maximus
Epsilon Endi Star System

Several hours later and hundreds of kilometers away, Fortress Maximus safely landed. Their arrival seemed to have gone unnoticed.

Perceptor captained an Autobot shuttle that set down nearby.

“I know your last visit was a bit rushed,” Arcana offered to Prime as they disembarked, from within the Cybertronian fighter jet, “So let me properly welcome you to Nebulos.”

“Thank you,” rejoined Prime. “I expected a technologically advanced race like yours to have more structures on the surface.”

Pinpointer took the opportunity to take off his Targetmaster exo-suit, “The Hive hordes most of the technology.”

“From what I saw,” observed Pinpointer, “Most people here don’t even have running water.”

“It’s true,” confirmed the green-skinned Gort.

Optimus looked around at the natural landscape for a moment. It was mostly tan rock with a smattering of trees here and there. It was similar to the area where the Ark had crashed on Earth, except for the purple-tinted sky. In the distance, smoke rose from a small fire. Probably set for warmth. “The Autobots will give you any assistance we can.”

Arcana and Brainstorm split. Brainstorm transformed into his jet mode as a result. Arcana responded, “Thank you, Optimus. The Autobots have already given us more help than we could have dreamed of.”

Prime gestured to the shuttle, “I’ve brought long-range communications equipment that I’d like to install in Fortress Maximus.”

The Nebulon attempted to decide Prime’s motives. Was he concerned for the Nebulon’s wellbeing or the safety of his Autobots. He decided it didn’t matter. If he were in Optimus’ place, he’d do the same. “Of course.” He also decided to make a gesture of goodwill, “I’ll also supply you with all our research and information regarding Head and Targetmasters.”

“That would be much appreciated,” said the Autobot leader.

From the tone of his voice, Arcana could tell Prime was going to bring that up eventually.

*****

Charr, The Garik Ruins
Alpha Centruri Star System

The Decepticons who traveled in Trypticon quickly ran out once he landed. The giant beast could hardly stand. Long trips were always draining, but added with battle damage, he was barely functioning.

The Harbinger and Astrotrain had already arrived.

As soon as the last Decepticon, Headstrong, was out, Cyclonus ordered, “Trypticon, transform into base mode. We will attempt to repair you.”

The colossus shifted form and settled into a highly defensible outpost.

Many Decepticons began collapsing on the blue dirt. All five of the Stunticons were in bad shape and in need of repair. Snapdragon was stuck in either jet or dragon mode, since he now lacked a head. Their energon stores were dangerously low. There were few spare parts to repair comrades with. Eight Decepticons had their sparks extinguished and their leader lay in status lock. The Decepticons were defeated in every sense of the word.

“Well, now what?” demanded Razorclaw, leader of the Predacons.

There was no immediate answer.

Cyclonus yelled for all to hear, “The last order of our leader was to restore him to his glorious former state. And that is what we are going to do!”

Most of the crowed bellowed at that idea.

Motomaster, leader of the Stunticons, pushed himself up off the ground, “And what about us? Do we deserve to be repaired?”

The Combaticon leader, Onslaught, offered, “We don’t have the parts to fix anybody, let alone totally rebuild someone.”

“Did he say ‘no parts?’” came from Wildrider.

Soundwave joined in, “All resources are to be diverted to rebuild Megatron.”

“What resources?” observed Misfire, “I’ve been all over this planet. You know what’s here? Nothin’.

“We should get off this rock,” declared Swindle.

Razorclaw’s lion ears perked up at the suggestion.

“Yeah,” agreed Runamok, a white Trans Am, “I say we get on Astrotrain and find some other planet to call home.”

“Our home is Cybertron!” yelled Cyclonus, “And need I remind you that is it occupied by our enemies! We need our leader back to get our home back!”

The Predacon hawk, Divebomb, said, “Predacons’ home is not Cybertron.”

“That’s right,” huffed Tantrum, “Predacons have lived on our planet, Goron, for millennia before Galvatron found us and convinced us to help you Decepticons.”

The Cybertronian colonists on Goron had long since established their own culture. Goron was an animal world and as such, the robots there assumed beast forms. In fact, the beast machines didn’t consider themselves Autobot or Decepticons. They even adopted a new emblem and changed their eye and energy glow to yellow to further distinguish themselves from the Autobots – who used a blue/red color scheme – and the Decepticons, who choose red eyes and a purple glow.

The robotic tiger, Rampage mused, “And what has that got us? Defeat after defeat. Now, our Goronian brothers, the Terrorcons, have been destroyed. Decepticons have done nothin’ for us. We should go back to our world.”

Unexpectedly and quickly, Razorclaw declared, “We are going back. We’re taking the Thanatos and going home.”

Wingspan and Pounce stepped up, “You will not! The Thanatos is our space destroyer!”

Razorclaw and the other Predacons surrounded the two clones. The Predacon leader explained, “I will offer you this one chance to accompany us because you too have beast forms and will be accepted on Goron.” He added with a growl, “If you refuse us again, we will rip you apart, servo by servo.”

The twins looked at each other for a moment. Then, Pounce said lightly, “Well, as long as we can come, no problem!”

Cyclonus’ right hand quickly transformed in to his installed weapon, a photon burst rifle, “No one is going anywhere!”

The lion glanced at his team and they quickly merged into Predaking. Though the smallest of the gestalts at around 7.5 meters, he was a ferocious fighter, “Try to stop us.”

The second-in-command played out the scenario in his mind. If he attacked Predaking, there was a fair chance that others would come to the Predacon’s aid. A schism would erupt. He knew those truly loyal to Megatron were few. He could lose most of his force. One the other hand, if he allowed Predaking to leave…well, his losses would be at least minimal. Besides, everyone couldn’t leave. There were only so many ways off this planet. After a tense standoff, Cyclonus retracted his weapon.

Predaking slowly walked in the direction of the medium-sized craft. Wingspan and Pounce transformed into a hawk and a puma, respectively, and followed.

Predaking paused and turned back, “Snapdragon, you may also join us.”

The former Headmaster was now in dragon mode. He considered Predaking’s offer, “No, my loyalty is with our leader.”

The gestalt acknowledged respectfully and continued on.

Cyclonus looked at what remained of his troops, as they looked to him. He realized he had better give everyone something to worry about before he had a riot on his hands. “Combaticons, create a perimeter around the ruins. Runabout, Runamok, Counterpunch, help them patrol. Sixshot, join Ref-Lec-Tor in orbit and watch for incoming Autobots. Breakdown, attend to your fellow Stunticons.”

“But I’m injured too!”

“Just do it!” he snapped. “Astrotrain, take the jets and find us some energon and spare parts.”

The thirty-six meter tall Cybertronian asked, “Where should I go?”

“I don’t care! Find the resources we need: trade for it, steal it, I don’t care. Just find something…anything!”

The huge robot transformed and allowed Scourge, Misfire, Slugslinger, and Triggerhappy to get in and took off.

Cyclonus walked up to Soundwave and the Constructicons, who were already talking about how best to reform Megatron. “At least I can count on some people.”

Soundwave explained, “The Constructicons are debating whether to give Megatron a jet mode or a tank mode.”

“Defiantly not based on any Earth vehicles, Megatron’s gonna be all Cybertronian!” exclaimed Hook.

Cyclonus crossed his arms, “Drawing up plans is all well and good, but we need resources, not to mention access to Vector Sigma.”

“Resources to remake Megatron’s body, I can provide,” calmly stated Soundwave.

Long Haul asked, “How is that possible?”

The communications officer elaborated, “I have a secret repository here on Charr.”

“Sly devil,” commented Mixmaster, “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“I will allow you to consume my energon if you meet my conditions,” Soundwave stated.

Scavenger sighed, “And that is?”

“In addition to remaking Megatron, the Constructicons must provide me with a new alternate form. I have enough resources for both.”

Cyclonus spoke for the Constructicons, “Agreed. We need to unload Galvatron’s body and take it to wherever you have your supplies. And don’t let anyone else know the location of your wares, Soundwave. You will be working in secret. Tell me – and only me – if you require anything more”

“Understood.”

The second-in-command took a step, then, turned back, “One other thing. Snapdragon should be rewarded for his loyalty. Craft him a new head, while you’re at it.”

Scrapper responded with a nod.

*****

 

Thanks for your continued interest, everyone!

*****

Inter-stellar Space
Autobot Shuttle Endurance
En Route to Cybertron

Optimus stood over Perceptor, who was manning the controls. Both looked out the forward windows at the slipstream effect. It was like being inside an ungluing tube of constantly changing color.

Perceptor had recently downloaded the schematics from the Nebulons. “Prime,” he asked, “Do you intend to create more Headmasters or Targetmasters?”

“No, but it may come in useful one day to help reverse the process.”

Arcee swiveled in a nearby chair, “Do you believe Arcana will reverse it once their planet is free?”

The semi-truck walked to the co-pilot’s station and sat, “I’m not expecting them to betray us. But as you and I know, liberating a planet is easier said than done.” He added a thought, “Plus, the rebels are in a desperate situation. Sometimes desperate people resort to desperate measures.”

*****

Earth, Oregon
Metroplex (Autobot City)

Autobot city looked like ‘little Cybertron’ among the snow-capped mountains. Metroplex usually served in base form as part of the city. Rarely did the titan assume robot form. Broadside, whom was currently a greatly oversized fighter jet, had landed nearby.

Scamper, who transformed into a six-wheeled assault car, greeted the returning Autobots. “Is it true?” he started, “Is Cybertron alive again?”

Hound fielded the question, “That’s right. The energon pools are starting to refill.”

“Yeah,” added Sunstreaker, “before you know it, rivers of energon will be flowing again.”

The eleven meter tall hovercraft spoke up, “Speaking of rivers, I’m going to find the nearest one and start my patrol.”

“Patrol,” repeated Tracks, “Sure, that’s what you call it.”

Seaspray retorted as he continued walking, “It’s the exact same thing you do. The only difference is: I do it on the open ocean, while you prefer the crowded streets of New York.”

The blue Corvette couldn’t deny it and didn’t try. “Well, some one has to take care of ‘Sparkplug’s Garage.’” He was referring to the secret Autobot base established with the cooperation of the US government back in the 1980’s.

Ultra Magnus put his hands on his hips. “I suppose you and Blaster are volunteering for that task?”

The communications officer and Tracks looked at each other for a moment, then to Magnus. In unison, they responded, “Yeah.”

The Earth commander waved his hand, “Fine. Broadside, would you drop Tracks and Blaster off in New York and then start patrolling the oceans in carrier mode.”

“Why not?” came from the giant Autobot.

As the East Coast bound robots went back on Broadside, Magnus turned to his remaining troops: Hot Rod, Sunstreaker, Scamper, Hound, and Pipes – who had also remained on Earth. The white and blue semi car-carrier ordered, “Sunstreaker, Hot Rod, you two are on perimeter duty. Don’t stray too far. If something should happen, I’ll need you.”

Hot Rod immediately transformed and drove off.

The yellow Lamborghini Countach complained, “Aww boss, I was hoping to cruise down the coast.”

Magnus was significantly larger than Sunstreaker. He said sternly, “We’re soldiers, not tourists.”

This obviously rubbed the Autobot the wrong way. He mock saluted, “Yes sir.” Then, transformed and rolled off.

The commander shook his head. This group was not the squad he would have hoped for. He turned to the last three. “Hound, you’ll act as my second.”

The jeep always seemed to be respectful and relaxed, no matter the situation or whom he was talking to, “You got it, Magnus.”

He finished giving directives, “Scamper, Pipes, you’ll continue to do what you do best,” which was a nice way of saying ‘maintenance.’

A few kilometers down the road, the Lamborghini caught up with the 2005 Simoltech custom concept car. Sunstreaker had always had a rebellious aspect to him. One thing he and Hot Rod had in common was a desire to not be responsible. Part of the reason why he volunteered to return to Earth was to be away from the really hard work. He rode abreast of Hot Rod, debating to race him. Instead he vented, <No wonder Tracks and Blaster wanted to be 3700 kilometers away from that guy.>

The flame-adorned car stifled a laugh, but he also had a new found appreciation for respecting authority figures.

*****

 

Cybertron, Iacon
Decagon, Planetary Security Complex

The doors slid open to allow Springer access to the command room. Inside, he saw Optimus and Kup near a console. Beyond them was an amazing view of the Cybertronian landscape through a wall of windows.

“You, ah, wanted to see me, Prime?” Springer asked.

“Yes,” Optimus confirmed. “I’ll get right to it. Kup, Hot Rod, and Ultra Magnus all speak highly of you. We all think you are the right Autobot to be my second-in-command here on Cybertron.”

Springer put his hand on his chest, “Me? What about Jazz? Or Elita One? Or Kup, for that matter?”

The old Autobot offered, “I’ve got enough on my plate, lad. I’ve got a whole planet to try to secure.”

Prime added, “I have other plans for Jazz and Elita.” He stepped forward, “The job is yours, assuming of course, you want it.”

The triple-changer searched his mind for a moment, “Well, ok.” He said with much more confidence, “Ok, I’ll do it.”

The Autobot Supreme Commander extended a hand in congratulations. Rarely were Autobots addressed by rank, but he made an exception, “Welcome to the Command Council, General Springer.”

*****

Cybertron, Near Iacon
Spaceport 12

The spaceport was a huge, domed structure. The top third of the dome was transparent. Inside, starlight highlighted the incomplete vessel inside. It was the Ark, or rather, a Vanguard-class Deep Space Interceptor. It required much work, but still towered at 384 meters. It was really only the hull, and even that had several holes in it where components hadn’t been installed.

Jazz observed, “I never thought I’d see one of these again.”

“I thought the Ark was the last Vanguard-class,” said Elita One.

“Technically,” responded Prime, “It was. This ship was never commissioned, let alone finished. It was supposed to be the Reliant. Wheeljack and I decided to forgo completing it and focus all our efforts on getting the Ark spaceworthy.”

“And we barely managed that,” recalled Jazz.

Elita One crossed her arms and turned to her partner, “Optimus, why are we here?”

He paced a bit and elaborated, “Our ancestors once explored space. Now, that there appears to be a lull in the war, I believe we should continue that tradition.” The two seemed to be unconvinced. He went on, “There is also a more practical reason for this mission. We can’t afford to become isolationists. Even though our planet is producing energon, we’ll still need material resources to rebuild our world. We need to establish new trade routes and reinforce the relationships we already have with other species.”

“You wanna fly the flag and let people know that Cyberton is still important,” Jazz summed up.

Prime nodded, “And I think you’re the perfect candidate to captain this ship.”

The Porsche typically didn’t question Primes orders or suggestions. “I’m down with that, Prime. If you want me to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go…”

The female interrupted, “If he’s the captain, what is my role to be?”

Optimus clarified, “Jazz will command the ship. The mission is yours. You are to be Cybertron’s envoy, our ambassador, our negotiator.”

She shook her head, “I’m a resistance fighter. I don’t know anything about diplomacy.”

The Autobot leader glanced at Jazz.

The newly minted Reliant captain needed no more prompting. “Oh, I think I’m gonna go take a look at what the ol’ girl needs.” He transformed and did a handstand in the process - he was known for transforming with more flare than most – and drove away.

Prime took her hands, “This wasn’t an easy decision for me to make. I truly believe you are the best suited to this role.”

“Why?”

“You know Cybertron better than most, since you’ve been here while we were on Earth. You know exactly what Cybertron needs. You’re resourceful, innovative, and…”

She leaned in playfully, “And I can be remarkably persuasive when I want to be.”

“I’m glad to see we are in agreement.”

Her tone became more melancholy, “I was looking forward to spending some time with you.”

He held her hands tighter, “That’s what made this decision so hard.”

*****

 

Jazz is awesome here. 'Nuff said.

 

Thanks, I always liked Jazz. Here's more...

Forgive the lack of italics or bold. I guess I need to update my browser...I forgot how to do it manually...

Monicus, Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti Star System

Astrotrain’s approach to Monicus’ tarmac – little more than a lane of smoothed rock – was erratic. Small thrusters fired on his ventral port side to even him out. The shuttle managed to get into a glide and hit the stone with an intense rumble. The Decepticon left a trail of sparks as brakes were applied. Once stopped, the side hatch opened. Scourge, Misfire, Slugslinger, and Triggerhappy disembarked. As they did, Astrotrain informed them, “I told you, I’ve been here before. Megatron once had a business arrangement with a local flesh creature. There is so much energon on this rock, they use it as money.”

Triggerhappy had a blue finish. He half-joshed, “Great! Is there a Bank of Monicus we can rip off?”

“I have no idea,” admitted Astrotrain, “this is the best place I could think of. All I know is we’d better find some energon. I don’t have enough to get back to Charr.”

“So what’s the name of this guy?” asked Misfire.

“Um…” started Astrotrain. “Lord Gy… Giki. No, that’s not right.”

Scourge placed his hand on his face, “You don’t remember?”

Astrotrain, still in shuttle mode defended himself, “Hey, give me a break. We didn’t have formal introductions, plus there was a running fire fight with the Autobots.”

There was what seemed to be a bustling city not far away. It was lit quite brightly. Slugslinger, the black and white jet, pointed to it, “Let’s just go there and see what we can find.”

“No,” said the shuttle, “I remember that guy going on about some arena he owned. It was called “The Pit of Destruction,” I think. It wasn’t in this town. It’s in a town called…Shole…Sheol…something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s nice,” dismissed Triggerhappy, “I say we hit the bright and shiny city.”

The sweep shrugged, “Whatever. Let’s split up. Slugslinger, Triggerhappy you two scout the casinos over there. Misfire and I will hunt down this Lord … whoever.” He added, “And if you do anything illegal, don’t get caught.”

Slugslinger asked rhetorically as he and the blue jet transformed and headed for the city, “I wonder if assault and robbery are illegal here.”

“I guess I’m stuck with you,” commented Scourge.

The red Cybertronian jet threw up his hands, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“They don’t call you ‘Misfire’ for nothing.” He transformed and flew off.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” He joined Scourge in the air.

*****

Earth, Oregon
Metroplex

Hound stood before a formation of human military personnel on Metroplex’s helipad, where two Earth Defense Command dropships had landed.

The Autobot jeep had been assigned to brief the first contingent of humans to be assigned to Cybertron about what to expect on the planet. He projected a large, slowly rotating hologram of his home. The 4.2 meter robot continued after greeting them. “Well, let me first say that Cybertron is a cool, but comfortable 10 degrees Celsius. The temperature on Cybertron isn’t the problem for humans. It’s the air…or lack of it. Cybertron’s atmosphere is five percent oxygen, but the air is so thin, you would suffocate. Oh yeah,” he added, “and there’s enough carbon monoxide in the atmosphere to kill you too.” He reached for a facemask on a nearby crate. “So I cannot tell you enough how important it is for you to carry your own air supply.”

EDC Captain Marissa Faireborn, who headed the formation, supplemented, “The Autobots have arranged for some structures to be pressurized and filled with breathable air, but there aren’t many places we can go without our masks, or better yet, wear your HEBU.”

The EDC’s Hostile Environment Battle Uniform had just recently been issued to frontline soldiers. Part space suit, part armor; the HEBU not only provided breathable air, but also gave modest ballistic and directed energy weapon protection.

“Yeah,” said Hound, “Finding a building on Cybertron that can be sealed is hard enough. Most of them have blast holes in them.”

Faireborn continued, “Which is why Earth Defense Command is sending up an engineering team to construct a bio-dome. Our job is to secure a location and provide security for them.” She paced while she continued to address the company. “I know it may be hard to put aside our nations’ differences, but there is no room in the EDC for that. We work as one unit, regardless if we are from the UN or the Confederation of Sovereign States. Is that understood?”

A unified, “Yes Ma’am” came from the crowd.

“Good.” She went on, “We will be laying over in Metroplex for a few days. I want our heavy equipment unpacked. Continue running your drills.” She gestured to a woman about 40 years old, who stood nearby. “Dr. Presser helped develop our new tech, so if any issues should arise, talk to her. She’ll be coming with us to Cybertron.”

The brown-haired woman nodded coyishly.

 

Cybertron, Iacon
Ratchet’s R & R Bay

Ratchet’s R&R Bay housed the most advanced repair and diagnostic tools on the planet. It had been named after the great Autobot medic that fell a few years ago. There was a large bay with several smaller rooms. Each had a repair table and various tools and equipment. Patents’ vitals were displayed next to them.

Firestar met Optimus as he entered.

“How is everyone?” Prime asked.

She began walking with him. The female Autobot obviously had bad news, but started with, “Well, Streetwise should be up and running soon. Groove is already making bad jokes. Inferno should be done repairing Hot Spot in a few kilocycles.” She stopped and faced him, “Silverbolt and Air Raid’s chassis had to be completely rebuilt. We decided to abandon their Earth forms and make them more Cybertronian looking. But they should pull through.”

Optimus could tell the other shoe was about to drop. He had to ask, “You haven’t mentioned: Blades, Skydive, Fireflight, or Slingshot.”

Her face told the story, “I’m sorry, Prime. There was nothing we could do for them. Their sparks were too damaged.”

The semi soaked in the information aloud, “Three Aerialbots and one Protectobot, gone.” He looked to the metal floor and shook his head, “Senseless.”

*****

Charr, Soundwave’s Lab
Alpha Centruri Star System

Soundwave grudgingly called this cavern a ‘lab.’ The rock had a distinct blue hue. It was artificially lit and had several chambers. Notably, all had gears, metal plates, and parts of all kinds scattered about. One chamber held more advanced terminals and displays. In the center of this room the Constructicons were gathered around a table.

Snapdragon, in robot form – head and all – raised himself up off the repair platform. “Oh, this is so much better! Everything seems to working: neural net, optics, targeting reticule. You guys do good work.”

The front end loader, Scapper, commented, “Of course we do good work! We’re the best engineers the Decepticons have.”

“Or the Autobots for that matter,” added Hook.

The triple-changer – dragon, robot, space fighter – got to his feet. He was about twice as tall as the Constructicons, “What do you think Soundwave?”

The Decepticon’s communications officer had already completed his overhaul. He still had his blue and silver color scheme, but now wings formed a “V” on his back. He had retained the ability to store his minions in his chest cavity as well. They too, received modest alterations. Soundwave’s face was only slightly different. His voice and personality remained completely unchanged, “Aesthetics secondary; functionality primary.”

“Oh yeah,” retorted Snapdragon, “Easy to say for the ‘con with gold trim.”

Cyclonus walked into the chamber, “You should have worked on the resurrection of our glorious leader and not yourselves!”

“We have,” explained Hook. “We did all we could with the parts available before we worked on the others.”

“What do you need to finish the job?” the purple fighter jet asked.

“You mean besides a full restoration of Megatron’s neural net from Vector Sigma?” came sardonically from Mixmaster.

Cyclonus grumbled, “Yes, other than that.”

Soundwave was more helpful, “Critical tools and resources are needed from Cybertron to complete the task, in addition to Vector Sigma’s assistance.”

The second-in-command put a hand on his chin, “Well, it seems we must move this project to Cybertron.”

The triple-changer stepped forward, “How do you expect to get passed the Autobots’ defenses?”

Honestly, he responded, “I’m not sure, Snapdragon.” He crossed his arms, “But if our leader is to live again, we must return home.”


TO BE CONTINUED…

 

Hah! Poor misfire!

 

I like your story style : simple and efficient. Pacing's good too.

 

Thank you very much to readers and commenters. I am about half way through the first draft of the next 'episode.' I'll probably start posting sections of it within a week.

Again, thanks for your continued interest!

 

Author’s Note: If you haven’t figured this out already, there will several ongoing story arcs. I’ve decided to do this because there are so many characters to account for. It seemed easier to break them up into groups and each have their own sub-plot. On the downside, however, there will be a lot for the reader to keep track of. I hope it doesn’t seem too disjointed.

Transformers: Machinations
Season 4, Episode 5: “Assembly”

March 2007​

Cybertron, Iacon

Jazz drove on a still trashed speedway a few levels below the surface. Even before the war, this was the ‘undesirable’ part of town. On either side of the road, there were long abandoned shops and places of commerce. Nine million years ago, this place would have been lit up with all types of neon signs and bustling with robots. Today, there was no one in sight.

Soon, he found himself in a great valley of metal. The stars could be seen above the dull silver canyon. Down a few hundred meters, he saw a single colorful light. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said to himself.

The number “4” white Porsche with a blue and red stripe, stopped in front of the establishment. The sign read in Cybertronian “Maccadam’s Old Oil House.” He casually transformed and walked through the open hatch.

Inside, was a large, multiple-story room ringed with an interior balcony and several staircases, leading both up and down. The walls were covered in ancient crude graffiti. There were several empty tables and a long bar with stools lining it. That is where he found a group of Autobots conjugating.

Freeway, a blue sports car in his alternate mode, was the first to welcome the newcomer. He raised a cup of oil, “Jazz! What do you think?”

He couldn’t help but smirk. “The whole planet’s in ruins and one of the first places you guys think of fixin’ up is a bar.”

“Not just any bar,” objected Topspin, the jet-powered land/sea vehicle, “Did you know that Logos Prime, himself, used to run this place?”

Smokescreen balked, “That’s just a rumor.”

The red VW bug, Cliffjumper, offered, “Besides Jazz, we used to hang out here before the war. You remember.”

“Well, not all of us,” amended Air Raid, who was created only twenty years ago.

Jazz put his hands up and grinned, “I ain’t here to give ya a hard time.” He added in half-jest, “I’ll let Springer do that later.”

“So what’s up?” asked Sideswipe.

“Actually,” he said while pointing to the red Lamborghini, “I was lookin’ for you.”

“Me, for what?”

“As I recall, you’re a pretty good pilot.” Jazz purposely sold Sideswipe short to rouse him.

“Pretty good,” he repeated. “Jazz, I once piloted a starhopper thirty levels down while taking out four seekers that were on my tail.” He grumbled again, “Pretty good pilot.”

The Porsche crossed his arms, “Well, I need a pilot. Wanna do it?”

“Does it get me out of reconstruction duty?”

“Yeap.”

“You got yourself a pilot,” Sideswipe said as he raised his glass.

Jazz nodded, “Alright, meet me at Spaceport 12 in a hectocycle.” He started for the exit.

Smokescreen and Sideswipe shared a glance. Suddenly the red and blue car got off his stool, “Hey Jazz, I’m a good pilot too!”

Without turning back, the white Porsche dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Smokscreen sat back down. “Dang it.”

*****

 

Cybertron, Iacon
Council Chambers of the Primes

Optimus Prime stood alone in the chamber. He looked up at a projected two dimensional image of a silver-haired human woman. “You asked to speak with me, Madam Secretary General.”

The image said, “Yes Optimus Prime, I’ll get right to the point. The Security Council has just passed a resolution calling for the immediate secession of oil and natural gas transfers to the Autobots.”

This wasn’t entirely a surprise to Optimus. Ever since the existence of Autobots become public knowledge, there was resistance to cooperation. Some elements perceived the Autobots as much of a threat as the Decepticons. Unfortunately, over the last several years, anti-Cybertronian sentiment had risen. Sam was one of a dwindling group of supporters in the UN.

In truth, Prime sympathized. In the 23 years since they were reactivated on Earth, the humans have suffered through disaster after disaster due to Cybertronian interaction. “I understand.”

“I must be candid with you,” continued the woman. “Ever since the Confederation of Sovereign States broke away from the United Nations, we have been concerned with obtaining our own resources. We simply can not afford to continue to supply the Autobots with our products.” She added with a cock of her head, “At least, not under our current agreement.”

Prime looked down and up again, slowly, “You wish to change our trade arrangement?”

“Yes, as you know, under our current previsions, the Autobots shared various non-military technologies and are to provide security. In exchange, the nations of the UN supplied the Autobots with the raw materials necessary to produce energon.”

“Yes,” Optimus confirmed. “And Rodimus Prime extended the same agreement to the CSS. We are trying to be very careful to treat all non-hostile human factions equally.”

Her false smile betrayed her true opinion, “Of course, Optimus Prime. We very much appreciate that.” She adjusted her chair slightly, “Well, some members may be open to continue our shipments in exchange for some slightly more advanced technology.”

Prime saw where this was going and didn’t like it. “What type of technology?”

She immediately rattled out, “Fusion, Ion, and Plasma weapons; cloaking technology, and super-luminal drives.”

The semi crossed his arms, “The weapons are out of the question. I’ve seen your species capacity for war. It would absolutely do more harm than good. Cloakers could also be used for military purposes. As for providing you with faster than light engines, I’m dubious about that as well.”

Her courteous façade vanished, “Why not?”

Optimus spoke deliberately, “Secretary General Barringer, besides drastically altering the balance of power on your world; if not precisely maintained, super-luminal drives can be quite destructive in their own right.”

She sighed irritably, “Do I need to count how many times humanity has faced destruction because of you? In nineteen Eighty-four, your planet was brought dangerously close to Earth. There have been nearly constant skirmishes between you and Decepticons since then. Many humans have been caught in the crossfire. Between last year’s Broadcast War and the “hate plague” - which you unleashed upon us - millions of humans have died.”

He knew it was undiplomatic, but he couldn’t help but correct her, “Actually, humans released the ‘hate plague.’” He quickly continued, “I deeply regret that humanity has suffered because of our war. It is perhaps my greatest regret. However, for every instance you name, I can assure you, it was the Decepticons – or the Quintessons - that were responsible for it, not the Autobots.”

She leaned in, “Many people are failing to see the distinction.”

Prime had no immediate response to that.

Barringer sat back, “I’m sorry, but effective immediately, the United Nations will no longer be providing you with fossil fuels.”

He didn’t want to say this, but he had to, “Then, it would appear that the Security Council has nullified our treaty.”

“Is that a threat?”

Optimus could hardly believe the suggestion, “Of course not. I was merely observing the unfortunate facts of the matter.”

She decided to end the dialog, “Good day, Optimus.”

The holographic screen switched to an Autobot emblem and some Cybertronic writing flashed across the bottom. Then, the projector shut down.

The Autobot leader said aloud, “I fear, this is just the beginning.”

*****

Earth, New York City
United Nations Building

Secretary General Janet Barringer swiveled her chair around, “Well, that went about as well as expected.”

A well dressed Caucasian man, around 60, walked forward from a corner holding a glass, “I know you’re worried about upsetting the Autobots. You shouldn’t be. Think about it. We’ve got nothing to lose. Even if we stop aiding the Autobots, they’ll still feel obligated to help us in the event of a Decepticon attack. And we already have all the technology Prime is willing to give us.”

She nodded, “You’re right. I just hope the Autobots don’t reach out to the CSS and come up with a deal of their own.”

He took a drink, “Optimus won’t give the CSS anything. You heard him. He’s bound and determined to maintain the balance of power. Which means, his goals are not ours.”

*****

 

colour me interested.......

 

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. On the plus side, I've started the rough draft for the next episode. I'm trying to get each story to be about 30 pages long.

As always, thanks for your interest!


Monicus, Gambling Asteroid
Tau Ceti Star System

Slugslinger and Triggerhappy walked in to a huge, gilded casino floor. Aliens, organic and mechanical, from all over this section of space tried their luck at the tables and on the machines. The two Decepticons took a moment to take it all in. Pink-glowing energon chips littered the tables.

“Oh, we need to rip this place off!” came from Triggerhappy, far too loudly.

Slugslinger, a black and white Cybertronian fighter jet, pulled his companion to the side, “This isn’t like stealing from a bunch of humans. If we go in neutron rifles blazing, we will get killed. Do you think you’re the first one to think of ripping off a casino?”

“Um…”

“We need to find another way.”

The blue jet seemed a bit flustered, “But…but I can’t do subtle.”

“I mean find another way to get the energon we need,” elaborated Slugslinger.

Triggerhappy threw his arms up, “Aw, come on! We can blast this place to pieces, steal what we need and jet outta here. No problem.”

“And then what? Get to Astrotrain, fly off, and hope all these other people don’t have spaceships and come after us? Then have a firefight all the way to Charr? Not to mention, we’d be ditching Scourge and Misfire.”

“That’s the spirit! I knew you’d see things my way.”

Slugslinger seemed to sigh, “Let’s go.” He began to walk out.

The blue jet followed, “Hey…hey, where ya goin’?”

*****

Earth, Oregon
Metroplex

Several humans and Autobots were gathered outside in a metal courtyard. Hot Rod and another, less sophisticated robot were circling each other.

The more primitive robot had a human controlling it from within. The human was sitting in a sealed cockpit. The robot itself was about a meter shorter than the Autobot. It was generally humanoid, in that it had arms and legs. Though, they appeared bulky and unrefined. It had simple grapple claws for hands and attached to each forearm were very large caliber machine guns. Belts of ammunition drooped from them to a storage compartment on the back. Each shoulder also sported a six-pack of rocket-propelled grenades. Both the UN and the CSS had their own version of these robots and each had their official designation. The troopers using them simply referred to them as mechs.

Hoots and halers where already coming from the crowd.

Hot Rod light-heartedly goaded the human inside, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna break your new toy.”

Sergeant First Class Jack Darby was having none of it, “Yeah, that’s what I said to your mamma.”

The Autobot mocked outrage, “Oh!” Then, he said, “Wait, that doesn’t even make sense...on at least two levels. Well, unless…”

Darby swept the mech’s arm up and sprayed Hot Rod with a machine gun. The rounds went right across his chest/hood.

“Hey!” The former Autobot leader protested, “If those weren’t training rounds that really woulda hurt.”

“Do something about it,” taunted the sergeant.

Hot Rod charged, “Alright, I will!”

He moved in close to the mech and pushed one arm away. As he did, Darby grabbed one of the sports car’s spoiler fins.

“Careful, careful,” came from the maroon and orange ‘bot.

The mech let loose another volley, nailing the back of the Autobot’s head.

“I think you’re dead,” announced the EDC trooper.

Hot Rod twisted the arm he held into an arm bar. “No, it’s just a flesh wound.”

The machine really wasn’t designed to bend that way. Darby tried to turn towards his opponent to prevent damage.

It took a moment for Darby to engage the RPG’s and aim them at Hot Rod. A dummy round hit the Autobot right on his insignia.

Ultra Magnus stepped forward, “Alright, that’s enough. Disengage.”

“It’d say between the bullets to the head and grenade, he got you, Rod,” commented Sunstreaker.

“I don’t think so,” offered Fairborne, “The fight was over as soon and Hot Rod got within grappling distance of the mech. Had he really wanted to do some damage, he had the opportunity right there. He could have grabbed and disabled any number of systems.”

Nijo Koin, the mech pilot from the CSS, spoke up, “Besides, launching an RPG at that range would have killed you both.”

The white and blue semi said, “These drills are meant to find out what tactics will work and which ones won’t. It seems obvious the mechs are very effective from a distance, but once a Decepticon is on you, you’ve lost.”

Hound, the green jeep, added, “And remember, several Decepticons have the ability to transform into jets. They can dive down, transform, and be on you before you know they’re there.”

The blue semi, Pipes, nodded, “More than one Autobot met their end that way.”

Sergeant Darby said, “I’m not so sure the mechs are that vulnerable at close range. These things are made to take a beating. It’s not like there are a bunch of wires hanging out. All the critical systems are protected under the armor.”

Captain Marissa Fairborn retorted, “I hope we never have to find out.”

“I second that thought,” agreed Nijo.

“I don’t mean to belittle your achievement here,” started Sunstreaker, “but these things are slow and not very agile. Plus, since you’re piloting that thing, your reaction time is going to be slower than any Decepticon – no matter how good you are at it.”

Darby seemed to take the observation personally, “You’re not telling us anything we don’t already know. What we need from you is to tell us how to use what we have to the highest effect.”

The yellow Lamborghini crossed his arms and said nothing, mostly because he hadn’t come up with an appropriately snide remark in time.

Captain Fairborne sensed the tension. “Ok, get your mechs ready for transport. The Autobot shuttle is showing up at 0600. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we go to another planet.”

The group broke up. As it did, Scamper patted Sunstreaker on the shoulder, “Look on the bright side. At least they didn’t put a human in your head.”

Sunstreaker replied straight faced, “Don’t give ‘em any ideas.”

*****