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Transformers: Generation 3 (Now with part 5!)


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Transformers Generation 3: Episode 3:: The Monster

 

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The planet was insignificant. It orbited a dull star on the rim of the galaxy, turning slowly, a dim, dusty, dead world. Those who had bothered to land there had named it Malbis and then forgotten about it. Nothing lived there. Nothing happened there.

 

Until now. The sky ripped open and a dagger of light stabbed downwards. Riding the wave of green fire was a sleek black dart. It swooped low over the grey desert and screamed towards a distant rift in the ground. The pit yawned wide, a sinkhole of black rock. The spacecraft slowed marginally and let itself fall on a cushion of anti-gravity. The descent was brief but vast. Now deep underground, the ship entered a huge circular tunnel and progressed until it reached a set of immense landing pads. Faint lights picked out the circular stone blocks as the new arrival sank onto the nearest, sending the dust of eons billowing outwards.

 

For a time it just lay there, as if it were gathering its strength. Then Nemesis transformed. Its green optics swept the chamber, taking in the shadowed machinery arrayed along the walls and the many portals leading off from the pads. One clawed hand rose and gestured. Lights blazed from the roof, casting pools of grubby illumination that mainly served to intensify the shadows. With a measured, steady tread, Nemesis strode from the landing area and passed through the nearest doorway.

 

The staging ground stretched into the distance, walkways criss-crossing the metal cavern. Row upon row of iron-grey columns stood in silence, thousands of chess pieces waiting for the call to move. Again, Nemesis pointed. A ball of blue/green light leaped from its finger tips and began to dart from cylinder to cylinder, probing their incumbents. The obsidian figure gave a hiss of satisfaction at the results of its test and proceeded along its chosen path.

 

While the staging ground had been lit with the same grimy overhead lamps as the hanger, the command chamber was pitch black. A low hum pervaded the air, the heartbeat of the millions of computer systems that maintained the facility. Nemesis halted at the centre of the room, the lack of light presenting it with no problems.

“Awaken.�

The word was spoken softly, yet it carried, echoing quietly around the maze-like network of chambers that comprised the base. A few picoseconds later, the computer heard the voice. A few nanoseconds and it recognised the owner. A few microseconds and it was reactivating its display units. A few seconds and holograms, etched in green, were filling the control room. The computer awaited its master’s next commands.

“Report current status.�

##All systems operating within acceptable limits##

“Report drone status.�

##6593 subjects remaining of 7000. All remaining Sweeps at 98% capacity##

“Report High Hunt status.�

##All members of the High Hunt are intact and at 99% operating capabilities##

 

Nemesis nodded. All appeared well. Malbis would indeed serve his purposes.

“Begin reanimation of the High Hunt.�

##By your command##

 

The Primary Herald reached out and touched one of the holographic controls before it. A slab of black metal materialised and gently glided to its side. Nemesis took a step back and focused, its optics growing brighter, energy circling around its body. The fabric of reality tore, much as it had done when the creature had first arrived. Something fell through and landed on the slab. The rift closed silently.

 

Nemesis advanced, satisfaction flitting over its pallid features. A red and gold figure lay sprawled on the floating platform, cold and unmoving…

 

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Paralysed with pain, Blaster could only stare stupidly at the monster bearing down on him… Abruptly the world tilted. Harpoon had kicked his legs from under him. He hit the ground and the whatever-it-was with all the teeth swooped harmlessly into the shadows, its feral, deafening screech petering into a surprised, angry yelp.

 

The Freebooter’s leader leaped towards the small white mech standing ahead of them, her sword swinging in a flashing arc. But the figure was already gone, hurtling under the blade’s path. As he dashed past Blaster’s recumbent body, the communicator saw that the mech had a spy cassette body pattern, his silvery frame trimmed with crimson. The Autobot lunged as best he could, trying belatedly to impede the midget’s path. The target simply dodged aside and waved his hand towards the red giant. Blaster felt something go wrong in his balance systems and he collapsed back to the floor with a sickening lurch.

 

Backlash charged their attacker, rifles blazing. The seeker’s volley deftly evaded, the white spy cassette launched himself at the yellow warrior’s head. Backlash twisted aside but not quickly enough. White hands momentarily brushed against his helmet and he recoiled violently. Had he been human, his eyes would have crossed. As it was, he tumbled head over heals, optics blinking rapidly and arms flailing.

 

Harpoon snarled angrily.

“Blaster, get up and help!� she yelled, drawing a squat weapon of some kind and hurling herself forwards. With a burst of flame, the device launched a glittering net that sped towards their opponent. He once more avoided the attack but suddenly found himself grappling with Domino. The cassette femme grinned viciously.

“Hey handsome – pick on someone your own size!�

 

Blaster staggered to his feet. His audio sensors had stopped ringing but his systems were still trying to understand what the spy cassette had done to them. Something flew out of the darkness above. The monster was back. He saw it clearly now, a mechanical bat, small by Cybertronian standards but it appeared that every inch of its grey and black body held a sharp edge. Red eyes blazing balefully, it opened its mouth to reveal two dagger-like fangs. Blaster swung his rifle up. The bat let out another sonic boom, this one far more focused. The Autobot’s rifle was jarred from his hand by the wall of sound and he dived for cover.

 

The spy cassette managed to squirm out of Domino’s grip, throwing her across the tunnel. He halted as he turned back. He was face to face with Harpoon’s blade.

“I’d surrender, runt.�

“The name’s Confusion, femme. Guess why.�

This time there was an audible pulsing noise as unseen radiation assailed the mercenary’s systems. She floundered and dropped the word as her limbs began to spasm.

 

Meanwhile, forgotten, Stepper tried to get a grip on himself. He had received the full dose of Confusion’s powers, collapsing as his senses and balance went haywire. His vision went in and out of focus, and his arms and legs seemed to have minds of their own. Grimly, the sniper attempted to force his optics to work properly. That mercenary was slowly crumpling while Blaster was trying to fend off some sort of flying creature. Stepper grimly closed his hand around his rifle, which, amazingly, had ended up by his side. It felt like his servos were moving through thick oil. Lifting the gun was pretty straightforward but he couldn’t hold it steady. Cursing his weakness, he tried to rest it against his body, eating up precious seconds. Finding he could manoeuvre it no more, he fumbled with the trigger and finally fired.

 

His aim was atrocious but luck was with him. The bat creature was caught mid dive, clipped on the wing. It spiralled out of control and collided with the tunnel wall. Confusion swung round to see his comrade drop to the ground.

“Wha – Farcry!� He spotted Stepper, the Autobot trying desperately to bring his rifle to bear. “Why you –�

Domino seized him again, this time from behind, yanking his arms into an uncomfortable – and disabling – position.

 

Blaster staggered over as Backlash hauled himself upright. Harpoon shook herself, trying to clear her head. Stepper struggled to his feet, lurched towards Confusion and jammed his rifle into the small mech’s face.

“Ig…I…should…blast…your…head to…dust!�

The Autobot’s normal cold exterior was lost in a sea of fury at being rendered helpless for however short a time. Blaster tried to pull his black armoured comrade back.

“Cool it. We need to find out where he came from.�

“Like slag we do!� For a moment, it looked like Stepper would break Blaster’s hand. But instead, he eased up on his rifle’s trigger and stood back. Not by much and not very far, though, and the weapon was still trained on their prisoner.

 

Harpoon had regained her footing, though she was still leaning against her sword. Backlash hurried to help her but she waved him off.

“See to Whirlwind.�

As the Seeker made his way over to the crashed Freebooter scout, Harpoon glared down at Confusion.

“Now runt…tell us where you came from or Domino will twist your arms off.�

For emphasis, Domino tightened her grip. Confusion grimaced but remained silent. Stepper glared at Blaster.

“You let her torture him?�

“Shut it Stepper. Harpoon, we should –�

“You should shut it too, Blaster. You have no authority over our actions. Domino –�

“Wait a minute! You’re working for the Autobots, so we do this our way.�

“Really? You mean we give him our energon, lock him up in reasonable comfort and hope that he tells us of his own free will? No thank you. Are you going to tell us anything runt, or do we have to really hurt you?�

 

I WOULD RATHER YOU LEFT HIM ALONE.

Everyone froze.

THEY WERE TRYING TO PROTECT ME.

The words echoed through their minds, powerful and commanding.

 

The mental voice’s owner stepped into view. He was a tall mech, similar in design to Blaster, with blocky limbs and clear chest panels, but far more slender and elegant. His helmet was crown like, three crests rising above warm golden optics. Like Confusion, he was mainly white but with blue trim instead of red.

SO I AM REALLY TO BLAME FOR YOUR INCONVENIENCE.

“Are you really?� Harpoon faced him. “Well then –� She stopped, a curious look on her face.

 

Blaster noticed that Stepper had a similar expression.

“Something wrong?�

“I…can’t move my rifle.�

Blaster frowned and tried to lift his own weapon. He couldn’t. Somehow his servos simply wouldn’t respond.

“Ah, yes…I must apologise again.� The mech’s physical voice was deep and melodious. “My abilities sometimes react with uncalled for strength.�

They were suddenly able to bring their weapons round.

“Who are you?� demanded Stepper, “and what did you just do to us?�

“I am Wavelength, Third Prefect of the Proto-group Mech Tor,� replied the other with a bow, “and I simply transmitted a command to your cerebral circuits that I was not to be harmed.�

“You were manipulating our minds?�

“Only on a very low level and quite unconsciously. You would have been able to overcome it with sufficient determination. It is a defence mechanism against some of the more unpleasant things that live – or used to live down here. Please release Confusion. He meant no harm.�

 

“No harm!� Harpoon was indignant. “That runt tries to make us all into gibbering idiots and he ‘meant no harm’!�

“I thought you were Decepticons,� Confusion replied, attempting to shrug within Domino’s grip.

“Weren’t our ‘brands clear enough?� asked Blaster.

“His wasn’t.� The prisoner jerked his head towards Whirlwind, who was now recovering consciousness and making weak giggling noises. “And some of you look too much like Skyraiders for your own good.�

Harpoon raised an eyebrow at the old fashioned term but nodded to Domino.

“Ok, let the runt go.�

The cassette femme realised her grip on Confusion.

“Thank you.�

 

“Well all I can say,� growled Backlash, “is that you’d better have a damn good explanation for who you two are and what that bat thing is –�

He broke off, having turned to point at the fallen creature and found only empty tunnel.

“Bat thing? Oh, Farcry. I believe you will find him,� said Wavelength, “adhering to – Blaster, isn’t it? – Blaster’s back.�

The communicator yelped and tried to look over his shoulder and claw the thing off. The bat was neatly folded with its talons grasping his backpack. It made a vicious growling noise and Blaster hurriedly pulled his hands back.

“Err…can somebody…help…please?�

Wavelength walked over.

“He evidently finds you good company. That’s why he hasn’t bitten you.�

“Bitten…me…ulp…�

 

FARCRY COME.

The bat tilted its head, listening to the silent call. It unfurled its wings and flew over to perch on Wavelength’s shoulder.

“He’s quite companionable if you don’t annoy him.�

“Companionable…right…yeah…�

Blaster tried not to stare warily at Farcry. The bat was staring at him with unnerving fixation.

“Ah. I can see his continued presence unnerves you.�

FARCRY TRANSFORM.

Wavelength’s chest panels swung open as Farcry’s body compacted into a slab-like data tape. It slotted neatly into the gaping cavity and the panels closed again.

“There.�

Frustration was beginning to creep over Harpoon’s face.

“Explanations – now!�

“As you wish. Prior to the rebellion, I was a Prefect. A very bored Prefect. The pampered life of the aristocracy did not suit me in the slightest. I took to prowling the streets, searching for something to do. Quite by chance, I stumbled on a gladiatorial den. I found I was quite good at combat.�

 

Backlash interrupted with a scowl, eying Wavelength’s slender chassis.

“You? But you’re…what? Communications…?�

“Computer and communicator mast.�

“Right. So did you use your mind thing?�

“Not at all. That would have been most unfair. No, I was simply a quick learner. Well, for a deca-vorn or so, I was happy – though my Proto-group certainly weren’t. I built up a modest reputation among the fighting dens. I even participated in one or two official athletics events. Then the war came. And the photon bombs.�

“Photon bombs…� Blaster suddenly caught on. “Vos and Tarn!�

“Of course. Well, the family put their collective foot down and dragged me back to the ancestral seat where I would be ‘safe’. I hated them for it. I had made some good friends and I wanted to know they were safe. Then came the rebellion and it was too late. I knew little of it at first. What news I got was heavily filtered. But I found out all about it soon enough. Confusion was sent to kill me.�

 

There was a murmur of surprise. Confusion sighed.

“Oh yes. I was a Decepticon. An assassin under Soundwave’s command. And with my powers, a scrappin’ good one. Megatron wanted the ‘cons to monopolise high-powered computing and communications. Those in Wavelength’s Proto-group were all highly skilled communicators. So Soundwave was tasked with obliterating them.�

 

Wavelength was about to continue speaking when an idea struck him.

I WILL SHOW YOU WHAT HAPPENED.

Images flowed into his audience’s minds. Other places, other times, frozen in eternity.

 

A magnificent castle built on the edge of a great chasm.

Wavelength standing in a darkened gallery.

One of his brothers falling, chassis pitted with claw marks.

Shadowy figures lunging after him.

Hard won skills coming into play, bodies scattering.

A flash of white, a wave of confusion.

Mental shields blocking radiated attacks, grappling with a small opponent.

The castle erupting in flames, blowing them out into the chasm.

Falling, twisting, grabbing at the spy-cassette’s jet pack.

Still falling, slowly but inexorably, landing hard.

Awakening on a wide, curved ledge, seeing the enemy trying to climb upwards but too weak to get far.

Rage, desire for vengeance flooding the senses, reaching out to tear and rend.

Stopping,sensing the pain of abandonment, the constriction of being flightless, jet pack wrecked.

Catching Confusion as he fell, carrying him along the ledge, not knowing why he should live yet determined he must.

Finding a tunnel leading into darkness, finding a power coupling, feeding, Confusion reviving.

Anger flaring, then dying, animosity giving way to acceptance, giving way to dependence, to trust, to friendship.

Fighting things, monsters swooping from all sides.

Coming upon a broken, feral micro-bot, healing it, befriending it.

Walking with Farcry and Confusion through endless, endless tunnels, longing for light, for the sky, for the surface…

 

The images dissolved back into reality. Stepper refocused on Wavelength and sneered.

“You expect us to believe that little picture show? That an Autobot and a Decepticon put aside their differences just like that? Just after the Decepticons had slaughtered your family? And you then traipsed through the Underground for a few millennia, taming the odd monster here and there? Please! We’re not neo-forms!�

 

Confusion’s features darkened.

“Listen you slaggin–�

“There is a saying,� broke in Wavelength, “that if two beings are confined together, they will either kill each other or become loyal friends. Besides, Confusion became a rebel out of anger. He had no problems killing spoilt nobles but too many innocents were dying. Finding that not all of the upper class were arrogant braggarts was the final fracture in his Decepticon ideals. I cannot say why I spared him in the chasm, but I did the right thing.�

 

“I’m glad your conscience is clear – because a lot more innocents have died because of that ‘rebellion.� Stepper whirled to face the others. “I don’t trust him and I don’t believe this story. It’s ridiculous!�

“Maybe…� Blaster eyed Stepper. “I’ve heard stranger things and they’ve been true. So’ve you.�

“Well…�

“Why so determined not to believe them?� asked Harpoon in a thoughtful tone, “Something you’re not telling us, Stepper?�

“Stepper?� Wavelength fixed the assassin with a cool stare. “Stepper, Second Prefect of the Proto-group Mech Clikt?�

“Yes…� the Autobot quietly replied. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Yes I am.�

“Hmm…you have certainly changed somewhat.�

“Wait, wait…� Blaster held up his hands in disbelief. “If you two know each other, why all the scepticism? Stepper?�

“Look, I don’t know him. It…doesn’t matter.�

“Really?� The communicator shrugged. “Well, it’ll be up to the boffins in Iacon to figure out if you’re story’s true or not, Wavelength. Which means, if you’re OK with it, we’d better make tracks up to the surface.�

“After so long down here, you would have difficulty restraining us,� came the reply, as Confusion’s face broke into a board grin.

 

“Well, I suppose that solves the mystery of the stray Autobot,� commented Harpoon. Blaster began to nod then halted. He had just taken a quick scan of Wavelength and Confusion. He did so again, more carefully. Neither had clear spark signatures. They were strong but overlaid with the discordant fluctuations that most communications types had. They did not match the clear, clean signal they had been tracking down. Besides, the signal had still been miles away…

“Err, Wavelength? Anyone else down here?�

“No, why –�

“Well then who’s the spark signature coming this way?�

There was a frenzy of activity as the Freebooters and Stepper jumped into action. A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance. Blaster registered that the tunnel dwellers had also shifted into expectant, battle ready stances. The light grew brighter, closer, resolving into a speeding hover transport, picked out in blue and white. It slowed to a halt. A moment later it unfolded into an unarmed mech of moderate height, the Autobrand emblazoned on his chest and a distinctive grill over his mouth.

 

Blaster gaped. Stepper grunted in surprise. The Freebooters expressions were level but incredulous. Wavelength looked first curious, then astonished. The Autobot mirrored his shock.

“Mech Tor…Wavelength, Prefect, third in the Proto-group. Presumed deceased after the Decepticon attack on Castle Tor.�

“Yes…yes I am, Emirate.�

Xaaron muttered something under his breath then took in the two staring Autobots and the group of mercenaries.

“Blaster? Stepper? Harpoon. An odd reception committee and a little sooner than I expected.�

“We…err…we were tracking you…your signal…ah…� Blaster trailed off. He wondered what was going to happen next. An appearance by Primus himself perhaps? “We thought you were dead after the PEC…�

 

Xaaron smiled.

“My dear Blaster, this is underground Cybertron. Down here, finding a mech’s shredded corpse only gives an eighty percent chance of said mech being dead. Now!� He clapped his hands, slipping into the role of leader with a practiced smoothness. “Pull yourselves together and lets get on. There’s clearly a great deal to sort out and explain, on top of the, as always, vital news that I have for Prime. So I suggest we vacate these tunnels with all available speed.�

 

He set off. As the others fell in behind him, still trying to work out what exactly was going on, Harpoon leant over and whispered in Blaster’s audio module.

“Funny sort of day, isn’t it?�

He found himself agreeing whole-heartedly.

 

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From the confines of the Vector Sigma chamber, Alpha Trion watched the party of Cybertronians ascend back to the world of light. He wondered if he was doing the right thing. It was Primus’ will, but he still wished he had been allowed to explain things a little more clearly. Once more he was prevented from exerting a more direct and guiding influence on events.

 

Sadly, he turned away from the image and moved to the opposite wall. Two archways led out of the hall, one into the tunnels, one into darkness. He took a last look at the glittering structure then stepped through the second portal. He emerged in a black void, infinite nothingness stretching in all directions. A voice, soft and cold greeted him with icy force.

“Hello, brother.�

 

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The throne room on Charr had changed. In place of the vast throne and decaying hangings, computer terminals and display screens lined the walls. The central podium was now encircled by several smaller ones, each with a built in link to the fortress computer.

 

Megatron stood on the dias and ran a critical optic over those assembled before him. Soundwave stood the closest, masked face fixed on his leader. Naturally, his senses would be roving the room, searching for opportunities. As long as he confined the use of his abilities to the lower ranks, he remained a valued and even trusted second in command. Cyclonus was next in line, freed from having to deal with his commander’s insanity and thus even more efficient and capable. There were some who might have thought that the warrior would have been cast aside with Megatron’s return. But to waste such a potentially valuable resource would have amounted to madness. And madness had been left far behind. Next was Straxus. Having been absorbed into the Charr ranks following his, Sunstorm and Reflector’s miraculous resurrection, the former warlord had been in danger of returning to his wasteful, gluttonous ways. That was something they could ill afford and a degree of careful regulation would be needed to ensure that his raw strength and low cunning were directed towards appropriate goals. Finally there were Scrapper and Onslaught.

 

Galvatron’s anarchic rule had left Megatron with extremely depleted ranks of combiner teams. The Seacons had left in disgust, the Aerocons and the Stunticons were so much space-dust and the Monstercons were last seen heading for Thunderwing’s territory. That left four teams, two of which, the Terrocons and the Predacons, were practically feral. At least he could put a great deal of trust in the loyalty of the Combaticons and the Constructicons.

 

All things considered, he had a fearsome inner circle to call upon. Yet it was not enough. He needed more than competent field commanders if he was to rebuild the Decepticon Empire.

 

With an imperious gesture, he signalled for Soundwave to activate the communications holo-projector. Three images appeared, three Decepticons rendered in light. Megatron noted the physical changes each had undergone. Thunderwing seemed to have become more heavily armoured, practically a metallic version of the organic shell he had once used. Scorponok was largely unchanged, simply gaining extra weapons. Shockwave was sleeker in appearance, but it seemed unlikely that anything would have altered the cyclops’ arrogantly logical ‘personality’.

 

There was a moment of frosty silence as the four leaders weighed each other up. Megatron spoke first.

“You have heard my terms. Eons ago the three of you pledged loyalty to the Decepticons and to me. Return to my side and you will reap the rewards of victory. Disregard my call and you will be cast aside.�

After another grim moment, Thunderwing answered.

“Galvatron’s ‘leadership’ broke the Decepticons. The Empire is lost, as is any chance of a quick victory over the Autobots. I doubt anyone would be able to rebuild the glories of the past…save Megatron. If you are Megatron, if you can still inspire our troops…then there may be a chance. I believe that I speak for us all in saying that only the real Megatron would be able to hold us to that oath and only the real Megatron would be able to forge together the mass of splinter factions we have become.�

“Does he speak for all of you? Does your allegiance come at the simple cost of my identity being proved?� I somehow doubt it, he added silently.

 

Sure enough, Shockwave’s precise, smug voice emanated from his hologram.

“While Thunderwing may indeed rush to ‘Megatron’s’ side, I am less easily swayed. For one, I estimate only a fifteen point four percent probability that Megatron could return and thus am unconvinced that you are who you claim to be. Further, regardless of your identity, I calculate a less than ten percent chance of reclaiming those territories once under Decepticon control through the berserker, brute-force tactics favoured by so many of those who have attempted to command our forces. Thirdly, the insanity that plagued Galvatron would no doubt have been carried forward into whatever form he now chooses to take – assuming that such a transformation has in fact occurred. Therefore, he would be an unfit candidate for the role of supreme commander. Finally, I see no logic in being bound by a millennia old oath that only had ceremonial importance in the first place.�

 

Megatron met Shockwave’s appraisal with a blank stare, his features devoid of the rage that he was suppressing.

“Ever the critic, Shockwave. Ever willing to disregard what your feeble intellect cannot comprehend. You blind fool. You have seen the effects of the change that has passed through our race. You have been touched by it, as have we all. And yet you refuse to believe how deep those changes run. Or perhaps you choose not to because you know that my return and ascendance would put pay to any chance of you ruling the Decepticons yourself.�

Just for a moment, the golden light of Shockwave’s single eye flickered and grew redder, the only form of expression his face was capable of.

 

Rather than revelling in the results of his counter attack, Megatron turned to the hologram that had yet to speak.

“Scorponok, you are strangely silent. Do you dismiss my identity or await its confirmation.�

“I… Once, the return of Megatron would have had me rushing to his side. But now… After the Headmaster process, the war on Nebulos, the treaty…a new war seems pointless.�

“Ah. The pointlessness of war. Yes. You put the same argument to Galvatron as, with his sanity returning, he appealed for your aid. He cursed that fleshling in your head as the cause of your ‘cowardice’. Perhaps he had a point. Perhaps compassion has been introduced where it had no place. But I put it to you that war would not be pointless. This peace, this treaty you claim has left no need for combat – it has muzzled you! Your troops, your allies are now virtual prisoners, prevented from fulfilling their destinies, denied what their natures demand. You have lost everything and so you now have everything to fight for!�

 

It was satisfying to watch as the giant’s face displayed a wide-ranging conflict of emotions. Excellent. The argument had clearly reached both head and body. Now for the final stroke.

“To some degree or other, my identity is the deciding factor here. I will prove who I am…but there will be certain conditions. First: you three must prove who you are as well. Deliver to me a portion of the cyber-static energy that flows through you and I, in return, will deliver to you some of mine. Second: You will send one of your warriors here to collect that energy and one of my troops will accompany him on the return flight. That way, fair play will be ensured. On all sides. And finally…� Megatron drew himself up and smiled, ever so slightly. “And finally, if – when – my identity is proved, you three will consider yourselves bound by your oaths. You will take your places as the high commanders of the Decepticon, second only,� he completed, a clenched fist rising in triumph, “to me.�

 

Again, Thunderwing was first to speak.

“Your conditions are acceptable. My ‘courier’ will be with you as soon as travel to Charr is possible.�

“As will mine.� There was hesitation in Scorponok’s voice, but not very much.

Which left Shockwave. All optics turned expectantly on the cyclops.

“… Your identity is irrelevant if your mental capabilities are impaired. I will meet the first two conditions but the third will wait until I have enough evidence to make the most logical decision.�

 

For a few astroseconds, it seemed Megatron was about to erupt in rage. But instead, he nodded magnanimously.

“So be it. I have no doubt as to your eventual choice.�

He stepped back and flung his arms wide.

“You have all shown wisdom in meeting with me and accepting my terms. And I promise you: this is the dawn of the greatest era in Decepticon history! Charr – out.�

 

The holograms faded away, leaving the supreme commander alone with his inner circle.

“Extended discussions are wasteful,� commented Soundwave, “Domination by force is a superior method.�

“Not this time. True, I could wrest control of the splinter groups through brute strength – but that would only heighten their animosity towards me. I need those three and I need to be able to rely on them. Too much is at stake – I cannot waste time dealing with insubordination and mutiny.�

Cyclonus’ optics narrowed.

“Do you believe that they will accede to your supremacy?�

“Yes. Yes, they will. Duplicitous as Thunderwing is, he was always remarkably loyal to the Decepticon cause. That will naturally lead him to my side. Scorponok…he may have infested himself with an organic being but he is, at spark and core, a warrior. He will heed the call to arms. As for Shockwave…in the end, it will only be logical for him to serve me. Now…�

 

This time, Megatron’s smile was broad and rich with triumph.

“There is one more acquaintance to renew. And this meeting, I am going to enjoy!�

 

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Taalus Four was a small asteroid that plodded through space on the vague boundary of Cybertron’s solar system. It was unusually dense, giving it a gravity roughly four-fifths of that of Earth. Its craggy surface was dull red and utterly lifeless.

 

Optimus knew exactly how lifeless it was. It was three days after the conference in Iacon. Having left Cybertron almost immediately, he had spent the time aboard his ship; running endless scans for potential traps or the attempt to lay them. Now he was standing on an outcrop of dark rock, looking down at a large crater. A bowl, created by some ancient impact, its sides were strangely blackened. As if they had been touched by some incredible heat. Here and there, warped, unrecognisable detritus lay half buried in the dust. The Autobot leader felt cold talons climb over his endoskeleton as he recalled the last time he had seen that crater.

 

It had been shortly after the so-called ‘Age of Wrath’. Both sides had been trying to cannibalise technologies that the Quintessons had abandoned as they fled from the sight of their failed invasion. The Autobots had adapted a spacebridge so that it could project a wormhole over incredibly vast distances and with a precision that Cybertronian technology had been unable to achieve. Taalus Four had been the target of the test run. A group of Autobots had been transported to the asteroid and, after the initial success; a base had been constructed there. The plan had been to use it as a long-range sensor station, searching for extra-Cybertronian resources that could be used to replenish those consumed by the war.

 

Then the Decepticons had found out about it. Some careless slip had shattered the secrecy around the whole operation. An attack ship had smashed its way through the base’s defences. The Autobot presence on Taalus Four was simply and efficiently erased. And while that was happening, all Autobot communications networks had been under strict blackout. A blackout designed to further another strategy on Cybertron’s surface. A blackout that had, perhaps by chance, perhaps by design, prevented a rescue force reaching the asteroid in time. A blackout Prime himself had ordered.

 

Trust Megatron to try and unnerve him with memories of past failures. Prime brought himself up sharply. He was sinking too deep into his own thoughts. He had to be alert, ready to defend himself, in a position to discern whether ‘Megatron’ was an impostor or not. And either way, he would have to deal with him. At once and forever. Something triggered his proximity sensors. At last.

 

Megatron stepped out onto the rocks. He was, like Prime, fully armed. Their optics met. Red and blue fires burned into each other. Darkness and death boiled into their minds. Just for a moment, they were one, unified by a common hatred.

 

“You came.� The Decepticon uttered the phrase without feeling. “I knew you would.�

“How could I not?� Prime’s voice was equally level.

“Indeed. Summoned by your oldest foe to the place of your failure. How could any Autobot, especially the great and noble Optimus Prime even consider refusing?�

“What do you want?�

“So terse and surly!� Megatron sighed theatrically. “No small talk, no banter, no comment on the view?�

“Since when have we ever had anything to talk about? I despise you and everything you stand for. Just as I find only anger in that ‘view’.�

“Everything I stand for? And since when have you ever had any idea about what I stand for? I ‘stand for’ the freedom to act as you wish! To fulfil your nature! To be what you truly are!�

“If you believe that,� retorted Prime, “then you are as self deluding and insane as ever.�

“Insanity? Again, something you know little of. I have been insane. I have screamed unendingly as another force moves my body. I have driven another insane. Yet when we were…upgraded, in that moment of rebirth, I saw myself. And I saw what I should have been. What I was once, so long ago. Before the Great War. Before you. Before Altihex. A champion against the corruption of the system. The head of a great liberating army.�

 

He paused and looked thoughtfully into the crater.

“I saw how my intentions had been twisted by my senseless obsession with your destruction. Our feud forged a force for chaos from what should have been one for order.�

Prime glared, fists clenched tight.

“How dare you! What kind of ‘order’ would the Decepticons have created? Peace built on tyranny?�

“The only peace there ever can be!�

“An the innocents slaughtered in the process –�

“Don’t be naïve,� interrupted Megatron, “There are no innocents. We all exist at the cost of others. We all consume and struggle and kill. It’s the way of nature. I accept it. You try and fight it. Tell me, who’s the delusional one?�

 

Optimus turned and pointed savagely at the crater.

“There is no purpose in that! No matter how you justify it, that is not and can never be right!�

“What of the countless Decepticons who have fallen to you? Don’t preach to me Prime. You have fuel on your hands too.�

 

Anger was threatening to break down Prime’s self control. He remembered his words to Grimlock and tried to calm down.

“Why are you here?�

Megatron laughed, a low, bitter sound.

“Because I wanted to see if I could look on you and stop my hatred from overwhelming me.�

Again he laughed.

“And I can! I am in control of my vitriol once again. I see the bigger picture and I know that I truly am restored to what I once was!�

He slid something from a wrist compartment and flung it at Prime’s feet. It was a dagger, embossed with the Decepticon symbol.

“I declare war, Prime. Not a revolution this time but a war between opposing powers, opposing empires. The Autobots and all their allies will all be considered targets and swept aside.� He shrugged and finished simply, “We will crush you.�

 

Optimus stared down at the dagger. It was all beginning again. The pain. The fighting. The war. No. He raised his rifle.

“There will be no war –�

He was cut off as Megatron’s fist ploughed into his face.

 

He tumbled backwards, falling down the crater wall, coming to rest amid the ashes and wreckage. Above him, the silver warrior stood framed triumphantly by the red rock. Megatron’s final words echoed through Prime’s communicator.

“Oh, how long I have been waiting to do that.�

 

Before Optimus could stand, the Decepticon was leaping skywards, angling towards a section of sky that had just resolved itself into a spacecraft. Mere seconds later, the golden bulk of the Ark-class cruiser ‘Justice’ pummelled its way over the asteroid’s horizon, guns opening up.

 

But it was too late. Megatron vanished inside his ship and it was gone, leaving Optimus Prime to face what was to come. It had been no impostor. That he knew. The champion of Tarn, the master of the Pit, the Slagmaker…he still lived. They had lost their chance to end things quickly. There would be no hope of the peace lasting now.

 

Worst of all, somewhere deep within Prime’s spark, a shard of primal rage looked to the onrushing war and wept with joy.

 

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Inside the command cradle of his vast, fang shaped space platform, Thunderwing monitored Needlenose’s return. Another fighter accompanied him, one the station’s computers identified as a Seeker named Skywarp. Thunderwing’s face was impassive but beneath, his mind was seething. If it were truly Megatron’s energy that his warrior returned with then the Decepticons would be forged together again. If not, there could be a civil war. Their creed could destroy itself. Or maybe, just maybe, it might rise anew. Under a leader strong enough to tear victory from the ashes. Alone, brooding, Thunderwing awaited those who carried the deciding factor.

 

Scorponok watched silently as Mindwipe gently lowered the containment canister into the scanner. Soon they would know for certain.

And when we know, are you willing to bring war back to Nebulos?

Zarak’s mental voice was hushed but accessional

To break the peace and burn the treaty?

But if the peace is a sham, if the treaty is a cage… responded Scorponok.

Do you truly believe that they are?

Do you truly believe they are not?

The scanner buzzed. With a glance at where Thundercracker stood, guarded as subtly as possible by Skullcruncher and Weirdwolf, Scorponok stepped towards the readout screen. It was the moment of truth.

 

##Match confirmed. Match confirmed. Subject: Megatron. Rank: Decepticon Supreme Commander (removed). Match confirmed. Match confirmed##

Logic dictated a reassessment of the situation. Rationality demanded the reasoned construction of a new course of action. Pragmatism said that this was the way things were so it must be accepted. Shockwave felt a strong urge to ram his fist through the scanning equipment. The outcome should not have been in doubt. Logically Megatron would not have submitted to this test without being sure of what would be found. Yet there had been a strange sensation of…hope. A desperate desire for there to be something wrong, some inconsistency that would render the experiment worthless. But no. The sample was more strongly energised than the original, true, but the same apparently held true for all Cybertronians now and the scanner had been calibrated accordingly. He had considered tampering with the equipment but the risk had been too great. The discovery of such actions would only have led to mutiny in the ranks.

 

Shockwave turned to Dirge, seated in the operator’s chair. An orange Seeker named Sunstorm stood next to him, arms crossed. Dirge’s expression was rapturous.

“I took the sample from him myself. I knew then that it was true…but now…we are certain!�

“Silence! I have no need of your emotive repetition of the facts!�

Sunstorm spoke up, barely concealed glee in his voice.

“I am to carry your declaration of obedience back to Megatron.�

“Then tell Megatron that he has my…obedience.� Shockwave’s optic blazed red as he answered. “I will serve him. For now.�

 

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Coda 1

 

The loose desert sand was churned up as the column of tracked vehicles passed, and it continued to dance long after they were gone. There were few plants out there to hold the earth together. The Commander shook his head as a cluster of ruined structures came into view, stark, hollow silhouettes squatting on the horizon. The remains of Las Vegas, a dead monument to man’s greed and self-destructiveness. With a sigh, he returned his attentions to the task at hand. There was no time to ponder humanity’s past mistakes.

 

The control panel before him relayed information from the two pilot’s consoles built into the front of the triangular, clear roofed cockpit. The speed and GP location of the tank. Enhanced views of the vehicle’s surroundings. The current state of the target.

“Commander!�

The voice emerged from the inter-troop communications unit.

“Report.�

“This is scout unit one. We have sighted the target! Reference 562489.�

“Good.� The Commander made a quick estimate. “ETA five and a half minutes. Prepare for our arrival�

“Understand sir.�

 

A plume of grubby smoke rose from the cracked ground. A pile of wreckage lay at the centre of the impact zone, still radiating the heat of re-entry. The Commander stepped down from his tank, guards fanning out in combat readiness. A group of technicians in radiation resistant armour were already examining the target, getting as close to it as they dared. The other tanks took up strategic positions, guns pointing both outward and inward.

 

A young, fair-haired sub-commander marched over, his helmet under his arm.

“We have secured the perimeter, sir. The target can be contained and we will be shielded from external attacks.�

“Excellent.� The Commander’s eyes were roving over the burning husk. “Have the Technics assessed the situation?

“Yes Commander. The target is suffering from the effects of rapid re-entry and its power systems have been damaged, hence the sustained exhaust plume. They do however believe that there is still life within.�

“Good…very good.�

 

The black uniformed man strode closer to the crash site. His helmet sensors picked out the wreck in contours of heat and cold. Rows of symbols flashed past, details of what was being emitted and in what quantities. One band of heat suddenly brightened and the whole thing began to shudder.

 

The technicians beat a hasty retreat and the guards brought their weapons to combat readiness, but the Commander simply stood and marvelled. To have come so far, to have been through so much and to still be alive! Parts of the wreckage began to become discernable as the flames at last died away. Here and arm. There a leg. Ruined motors strained and blasted joints began to move.

“It’s still alive,� murmured the sub-commander, completely redundantly.

The thing hauled itself onto its knees and its head swung from side to side. As its cracked optics caught sight of the Commander, the red glow within them brightened.

 

“Cz…zzz…ccczzzz…ccczzzz…�

Its twisted jaw worked feverishly, trying to force the words out.

“Czzz…cccooo…ccccoooorrrr…cccc…ccccooobbbrrrr… Ccccooobbbrrraaaa…�

Excitement surged through the Commander’s body.

“Yes! We are Cobra! You know us?�

The wreck’s head dropped sharply then rose painfully. It leaned towards the human, components straining. Its hellish, broken face was reflected in the Commander’s mirrored faceplate.

“Hhhh…hhheeelllp…mmee…hhelllp…yyyouuu… Dddeeeallll?�

 

The Commander’s hidden face was alight with elation.

“We have a deal!�

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Next: The Calm

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Wordy and slow on action, I know, but that lot up there is all necessary. If I were in the mood to be pretentious, I'd call it a character piece. really it's build-up.

 

Next episode may be title 'The Calm' but that doesn't mean the Decepticons won't be very busy.

 

Comments, crits etc welcomed as always, and thanks to everyone who's already posted!  :thumb

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  • 1 month later...

you need to tell me when you up date this man! lol

 

AWESOME stuff, but now you bring Cobra? very cool. I was surprised you used Needle Nose instead of Bludgeon, but what the hell, ya know?

 

As I said before....need...more!

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  • 5 weeks later...

Needlenose can fly through space. Bludgeon can't. Simple as that. Don't worry though, the master of Metalikato has not been forgotten!

 

And now, part 4:

 

 

Transformers Generation 3: Episode 4:: The Calm

 

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Perceptor glowered at the chunk of crystal, almost trying to extract its secrets through force of will. It continued to glint in an unconcerned manner. Frustration was not a feeling the scientist was any stranger to. Frequently, he would bash his head against the steel wall of some over complicated problem for days on end, looking and looking for some way of breaking through. And, almost invariably, such persistence would be in some way rewarded. But this…crystal, a shard of the ‘chrysalis’ that had engulfed him during his reformatting…it defied him completely and utterly.

 

He knew that it had to be the key to unlocking the mystery surrounding the energy wave that had left his entire race in more powerful bodies. He knew that if he could gain some understanding of what it was then he might be able to quantify what had occurred, describe the process in scientific terms devoid of the dogma and myth he so hated. His very spark rebelled against the idea of being forced to accept that the whole thing was just ‘The Power of Primus’.

 

He also knew that he was getting nowhere. The scanners put it down as some kind of quartz. But there were strange anomalies, tiny inconsistencies on an atomic level that try as he might, he could not analyse. It was almost as if they were actually trying to evade his examinations. The more time he spent searching through the crystal’s structure, the less he found and the more his frustration grew.

 

With an angry sigh, Perceptor stood up. Perhaps Swerve would have some idea of what to do. If he just persuade the metallurgist to abandon his precious Tarinium deposits on Galus Tetra…

 

A brief glance at the lab’s window brought a sharp reminder of the current reality. A group of construction workers was clustered around one of the newly constructed planetary defence cannons, testing its motive units. All over the planet, similar structures were being built to repulse a potential invasion.

 

The threat of the coming war hung heavy over Cybertron. Everyone expected the Decepticons to descend on them at any moment. Prime had returned from Taalus Four to find Xaaron waiting for him. They had spoken together for hours before assembling the council. Prime had described his meeting with Megatron in calm, controlled tones and with a haunted look in his optics. Xaaron had conveyed Alpha Trion’s warnings about Unicron’s supposed champion with an acidic voice and dark scowl on his face. It had been unanimously decided that the threat posed by the Decepticons superseded any warnings about a so-called ‘Nemesis’ of their race. However dangerous that being was, Megatron’s forces were more so by virtue of being both visible and close at hand.

 

That had been less than a week ago. In that time, plans hand been laid to defend Cybertron, expand the space fleet and recruit new soldiers. The colonies were preparing for the worst. What had happened on Theta Varos was still fresh in everyone’s mind.  And Charr had, to put it mildly, been placed under intense scrutiny. In fact, almost every available listening device, planetary scanner and security agent was focused on that wretched planet, albeit surreptitiously. No one was eager to attract the inhabitants’ attention.

 

The Decepticons, however, seemed to be completely inactive. Oh, a few went back and forth, exiting orbit and vanishing into warp tunnels anyone had a chance to track them and returning in a similar manner. But long-range sensors picked up only what seemed to be the most trivial of movements on the surface. Of course, these movements were subjected to analysis, counter-analysis, extrapolative studies and theoretical assessment but even then, no conclusions could be drawn other than ‘they’re up to something’.

 

Meanwhile, the Galactic Union was in uproar about the whole thing. There was a real chance that another Great War would engulf the entire galaxy, something that certainly did not sit well with the member worlds. The Chintari Empire, never a friend of Cybertron, was becoming restless. It was only a matter of time before they got bored of polite, diplomatic objections and started blasting everyone in sight.

 

It was, all things considered, unlikely that a request to move one Autobot from a distant colony back to Cybertron simply to get his opinion on a lump of quartz would be met with warmth. Perceptor doubted he would even be able to send a communication to Swerve. Most of the comm-net had been given over to organising battle preparations.

 

It was certainly possible that Swerve would have tried to analyse his own crystal shards. But while Perceptor had all the equipment but not enough knowledge, Swerve would be in exactly the opposite situation.

 

And soon, the scientist knew, he would be dragged away from his studies to once more use his intellect in the cause of defeating the Decepticons. He had only been able to continue his examinations for so long by proposing the possibility of selectively reversing the upgrade, thus potentially weakening Megatron’s forces. And also by politely but forcibly pointing out that he was the head of the Scientific Institute.

 

Sighing again, he turned back to his work.

“ARGHH!�

He clutched at his head. Pain was filling his cerebral circuits, an unbearable, firry pain. Vaguely, he registered cries coming from all over the building. The torment continued for a few seconds and then cut out as abruptly as it had begun. Data flows within his neural net began to flow freely again, allowing him to deal with the data his sensors had gathered in those short, agonising moments.

 

It had been some kind of energy pulse, broadcast over a wide area and on just the right wavelength to interfere with every brain module in its path. And it had emanated from a room only a few doors down from his lab.

 

Stumbling slightly, Perceptor stormed out.

 

The workshop was, at first glance, a shambles. It did not do much better at second glance. Every surface, including most of the floor, was covered in communications equipment, the bulky units sometimes stacked into precarious towers. Cables were strewn everywhere, apparatus connected seemingly at random. At the centre of what looked like an explosion in a fibre optic factory was a tall white and blue radio mast.

“What on Cybertron is going on in here?�

 

There was a loud crash and a yelp. Blaster emerged from a particularly dense thicket of equipment holding a vibro-spanner in one hand and rubbing his head with the other.

“Owww…oh…how’re things goin’, Perceptor?�

“Hardly any better for being interrupted by a pain inducing energy burst.�

“Yeah…heh, sorry about that…Wavelength ‘n me were just tinkering with this and it went off by accident.�

He accompanied this statement with a proud gesture at the catastrophe surrounding him.

 

As the radio mast smoothly rearranged itself into the tunnel-dwelling communicator, Perceptor delicately probed a heap of wires with his toe.

“And what, pray tell, is this…mess supposed to be?�

“Well, y’ see, we got the idea that perhaps we could sort of amplify Wave’s mind-influencing abilities. If we could get ‘em covering a wide enough area, we could set up a mental defence field that’d stop any ‘cons in they’re tracks!�

 

Perceptor surveyed the room one more time.

“I see. You mean that you were trying to amplify the output of an extremely sophisticated set of cerebral antenna that radiate a highly specific set of energy pulses designed to interfere with the operation of the average mech’s mental facilities with this collection of ramshackle and semi-outdated apparatus?�

 

“Quite so.� Wavelength carefully disconnected himself from the tangle of optic cables. “The problem with my abilities is that the more specific a mental command becomes, the shorter the range it has. I could send out a general command to, say, force a surrender but it would affect every mech in its path, regardless of affliction. To get an instruction tailored to those who follow Megatron to carry over any useful distance requires massive boosting. Which is what this is for.� He held up a cluster of cables. “Unfortunately, we’ve been having teething problems. The interface is not very good. The signals get scrambled, causing cerebral overloads in anyone nearby. Not to mention the strain it puts my systems under.�

 

“I see,� repeated Perceptor, “Blaster, how long have you been working on this?�

“Well…since Wave got cleared, so about four days. Don’t worry, we’ve only been doin’ it when we’re off duty –�

“And in that time how much resources have you used up?�

“Urr…everything here, really. But it’s all old stuff that nobody needed –�

“Blaster, tell me: Who authorised you to work in here?�

“Umm…no one…exactly…�

 

The chief scientist drew himself up.

“Have you gone out of your mind? I know you have never liked rules and procedure but even you must see that doing all this will cause us severe problems! I have lost nearly my entire research staff to the war build up. I can’t deal with you using up resources and giving those of us left cerebral overloads! And that is without mentioning the potential ethical and practical problems with this whole idea!�

“Now, wait a minute! I’m on the council too! I have the authority to carry out my own research!�

“Not here! Your authority does not extend the Scientific Institute! And yes, you are on the council so you should act in a responsible manner!�

 

Perceptor’s voice had risen to what was practically a screech.  Blaster recoiled from his friend’s anger. He had never seen the other Autobot so enraged. Wavelength stepped over.

“Please, I have to take the blame for this. It was my idea…I know it is a little eccentric and rash…but having learned of all that had happened while I was in the underground, all the destruction and death…I was desperate to prevent further losses, to make up for being unable to help before.�

“I understand, Wavelength, believe me, I understand. But you cannot just try and build something like this in your spare time.� Perceptor calmed down a little. “Look, Blaster, I want all of this out of here. I want the S.I.’s equipment returned and I do not want to hear about this ‘project’ again unless it has been through the correct design and testing processes. Understood?�

“Yeah…sure…�

 

Without waiting for any further response, Perceptor turned on his heel and strode to the door.

“Perceptor…look, I’m sorry.� There was a note of pleading in Blaster’s voice. “I just…I guess I wanted a way to stop the Decepticons without any more death.�

For an instant, he though the scientist’s anger was going to fade. Instead, the reply came as a furious hiss.

“Just get out.�

 

Moments later, Perceptor collapsed back into his chair, feeling wretched and drained. Well, his frustration was gone. He had just vented it against someone he considered a dear friend, who had been trying to do the right thing. And why? Because he was tired? Because his own experiments were dead-ending? Because another war was about to remove any chance he had of continuing his work?

 

For the first time in vorns, alone in his lab with an unsolvable mystery, Perceptor swore violently.

 

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WOOOMMMPPPHHH!

The shells exploded, flinging shrapnel in all directions. Shockwave made several minute adjustments to his stance, allowing the burning metal to miss him by a small but carefully calculated distance. He swiftly pivoted, left leg servos pushing their limits, and sent a beam of focused energy into the swirling smoke that had engulfed the battlefield. His opponent was equally swift in avoiding the counter attack.

 

The indigo armoured cyclops paused for a few nanoseconds, his tactical systems analysing what his sensors told his about his enemy’s position and motion. Extrapolated scenarios presented themselves, together with the probabilities of their being feints or double bluffs. A bolt of blazing matter slammed through the billowing clouds. Shockwave dodged aside then deftly escaped another wave of shells.

 

Probability of further projectile attack: 35%. Probability of physical assault: 44%. Probability of transformation: 20%. Probability of retreat: 0.0034%.

 

He leapt into the air, transforming, targeting. The space cannon’s barrel flared. Photons hyper-energised. Power outputs spiked. The seething cauldron of his nuclear heart was unleashed.

 

Probability of victory rising. 56%. 71%. 89% –

 

His sensors bleeped a warning. Too late. The opponent was already leaping through the boiling air, slamming into Shockwave with a resounding clang. Amidst the pain of being knocked out of the sky, he realised that the other had used his own arsenal to deflect the onrushing blast. Crashing into the ground, managing to return the robot mode, he found himself staring into the black void of his enemy’s cannon barrel.

 

Strategy recalculated.

 

The opponent grinned.

 

Shockwave raised his hand as if to implore. Within, a fresh wave of energy grew. The opponent laughed and charged his weapon. But not fast enough. Shockwave released his powers once more. Through the ‘imploring’ hand. The bright flash of light blinded the opponent, sending his red optics into darkness. Triumphant, Shockwave smashed him off balance and took aim for the killing stroke…

 

##Simulation terminated##

The smoke, the enemy, Shockwave’s damage – they all faded. Devoid of its coat of illusions, the training room was simply a large, blank walled cube. Annoyed at the abrupt end to his exercise, the Decepticon turned to look up at the mirrored glass of the viewing chamber.

“Soundblaster, I gave strict instructions that I was not to be disturbed.�

The only response was a whisper of static from his internal communicator.

“Soundblaster?�

“… Apologies, commander.� The buzzing noises that mixed with the communications officer’s smooth tones were far more pronounced than usual. He was agitated. “Something has…come up. It is important.�

“Elaborate.�

Before Soundblaster could, the training room’s doors slid quietly open.

 

“I did not expect to find you combat training, Shockwave.�

The voice echoed through the room, a voice tailored to domination, to crushing the wills of all who opposed it. Shockwave’s clipped, cold speech seemed thin and lifeless in comparison.

“Is it not logical to maintain one’s combat skills if one is shortly to be engaged in warfare, Megatron?�

The Decepticon leader crossed his arms.

“And I suppose your choice of sparing partner has an equally logical explanation.�

“Certainly. Who other than you could be the benchmark for a Decepticon’s skills?�

 

Megatron’s optics narrowed.

“As long as you do not confuse simulated victory with reality.�

He advanced into the room.

“I presume you are surprised by my presence.�

“I am…somewhat intrigued. The logical deduction is that you are here to discuss something too sensitive for holo-link.�

“In this instance, you are correct. And I congratulate you upon the improvements you have brought to the spacebridge. It is far more comfortable than before.�

“The cleaner transmission is merely the unforeseen result of ensuring that the energy release on activation is reduced,� answered Shockwave with a dismissive gesture, “We can talk here. It is secure enough.�

 

“I understand that you have been constructing new warriors to swell your army.�

“That is so. However, the alterations and improvements to our race have rendered the pre-constructed bodies obsolete.�

“You have taken steps to rectify that?�

“Naturally. We have reverse engineered an example of this new generation of internal systems. Three proto-subjects are already in the final stages of updating. A fourth is half completed. However…�

“‘However’?� prompted Megatron, “You have some kind of problem?�

“While most of the internal structures can be brought in line with our own, the cerebral systems are proving…difficult to replicate, even after numerous examinations of existing ones. They appear to work on entirely new principles – admittedly allowing them to process information at a far greater rate but preventing me from duplicating them.�

 

Something in Megatron’s stance was making Shockwave suspicious. It was as if he was not really bothering to listen. As if he already knew… “Would I be correct in supposing that someone has already informed you of the situation here?�

With a chuckle, Megatron nodded.

“I thought you never made guesses.�

“I am capable of forming educated hypothesises. May I inquire as to who told you?�

This time the response was negative.

“I think not. Do not be angry that ‘your’ troops defer to me over you. It is my right, after all, to extract any information I should require from my subordinates.�

He emphasised the last word. Shockwave’s optic blazed.

“Should I therefore assume that you already know the possible solution?�

“You should. And I also know of your reticence in utilising it.�

“Reticence based on a logical assessment of the situation. I lack the resources to mount an incursion into Autobot territory.�

“Fortunately, I do not.�

 

The silver giant uncrossed his arms and placed one of them almost companionably over Shockwave’s shoulders.

“I have already prepared a visit to the Autobot city on Nebulos. I shall see to it that the so-called ‘Brain-cells’ are extracted from their scientist’s possession. They will be brought here for you to use on your constructs. I want those troops because I have no doubt that they will be an extremely formidable set of warriors.�

His hand began to dig into Shockwave’s armour.

“In return for my favour, you are going to make every communications facility here available to Soundwave when he arrives to conduct an examination of Cybertron’s current information networks.�

“Soundblaster is more than capable of such a task.�

“Possibly. But I have more faith in the original than a mere copy.�

“He is far more than a ‘mere copy’, I assure you.�

“Nevertheless…you will prepare for Soundwave’s arrival.�

“As you command. But I do not understand your use of the word ‘favour’. You have already stated that you will requisition the neo-warriors when they are complete. Delivering the Nebulan cerebral constructors to me is a favour only to yourself.�

“The favour,� Megatron answered quietly, “is in not tearing you limb from limb for your arrogance and ego-filled presumption.�

 

Momentarily, his hand bit hard into Shockwave’s shoulder, then he released him.

“See that you are ready for the Brain-cells.�

He moved to leave, but halted mid stride.

“Oh, and Shockwave? If you feel the need for any more combat training…you need not bother with your hologram…I will be more than happy to assist you…in person.�

 

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“A modicum to starboard!�

“He means ‘right a bit’.�

The mid-day sun glinted blindingly off the hovering spacecraft and the mass of metal slung beneath it.

“Descend slightly in the vertical plane!�

“Down a bit.�

“A fraction to port!�

“Left a bit.�

“Hardhead, will you kindly desist –�

“Both of you – SHUT UP!�

 

Scattershot’s frayed temper had finally snapped.

“I can get this thing in place on my own!�

Highbrow scowled. Hardhead chuckled.

“Come on, ‘Brow. I don’t think Scattershot needs our help with that monitor tower.�

“But –�

“Come on! We’re supposed to be checking for loose power junctions, not winding up Technobots.�

“Hah!�

 

Cradled in his nest of cerebral circuits, Gort rolled his eyes. His partner was on the verge of one of his long rants about efficiency and menial work. The Nebulan decided to step in.

Shift it Highbrow.

His Headmaster having quashed his protests with a firm mental command, the blue heli-bot settled for grumbling quietly and trudged off alongside Hardhead.

 

Watching them via his transector’s surveillance cameras, Fortress Maximus had to suppress a smile of his own. Despite so many years of Gort’s influence, Highbrow was still prone to falling back into his snobbishness. It was a good job that the likes of Hardhead, Duros and Gort were around to stop him from getting Scattershot’s fist somewhere unpleasant.

 

Maximus returned, somewhat reluctantly, to what he was supposed to be doing: testing the city’s data feeds. Surveillance was working, even the external links to the gatehouses and Brainstorm’s labs. Environment monitors and internal communications were still fluctuating though.

 

The Nebulos Autobots’ current tasks had been brought about by the fact that while the Vector Sigma induced energy wave had been extremely beneficial to both Maximus and his comrades, it had had absolutely no effect on the titanic transector that formed the core of the Cybertronian city. Worse, the intrinsic link between the commander and said transector had been scrambled. Brainstorm had discovered that the only way to fully rectify the problem was to completely overhaul every system and structure in the vast machine.

In theory, with all the proper safety standards and quality controls in place, it should have taken the best part of a year. Being on the same planet as a presumably mobilising Decepticon army had forced them to try and condense the work into a few weeks.

 

The really worrying thing though, was that the Decepticons, ensconced in the icy peaks that so perfectly hid their base, were as apparently inactive as their Charr-based comrades…

 

Gallen’s thoughts broke in. The Nebuan was also linked into the transector, overseeing a swarm or nanites as they slowly restructured a section of internal corridors.

You don’t think we can do it?

We’re trying to completely rebuild one of the most complicated machines ever produced by Cybertronian technology in a minute fraction of the time it would be advisable or even sane to do so. It would be fair to say I have my doubts.

We’ve got the Technobots on haulage and engineering duty, the Headmasters acting as overseers, fifteen different construction companies rebuilding the outer blocks and our entire Targetmaster contingent doing whatever they can to help. We’ve got a chance! We can do it!

There are so many ifs and buts…we have no idea when or where or even if the Decepticons will strike, whether we will be able to fight back, whether –

 

 

Proximity alarms rang out. Temporary scanners wired into the city’s systems were suddenly registering targets. Moments later, Pointblank’s voice broke into the computer-Nebulan-Autobot gestalt.

“Commander! I recommend red alert at once!�

 

The ground was shaking. Even before the claxons started up, workers were downing tools and running for the deep bunkers. Amid the thronging Nebulans, Hardhead activated his macroscope. Far across the plane that stretched beyond the city, a dust cloud was rising over the horizon. And it was accelerating. Shapes were resolving out of it. As the cloud reached the first of the watchtowers, some of the forerunners became clear. There was Quake, turret practically twitching with excitement. There was Weirdwolf, loping along, flanked by Fangry, Horribull, Snapdragon and Apeface. There were Ruckus and Crankcase, apparently racing each other.

 

Soon a second line became clear, this composed of Decepticons on foot. Darkwing, Dreadwind, Mindwipe, Windsweeper, Skullcruncher – practically every Decepticon ever to come to Nebulos. But not one of them was off the ground. Not one of them was so much as levitating.

 

“That is no ordinary dust cloud.� Highbrow had come up alongside Hardhead. “It is inconsistent with their motion and it is blocking my probes.�

“Then what…?�

Hardhead saw it. Something huge shifting within the cloud. Not huge – gigantic. Slowly, like the shroud of a rising corpse, the smokescreen began to draw back. There was a glint of green metal.

“Oh, sweet Primus…�

 

“Brainstorm, how is this possible? Scorponok’s transector should be in the same mess as mine, surely?�

His attention fixed on the main view screen; the scientist did not so much as twitch as he answered the commander’s question.

“It is possible that as Scorponok’s city was built primarily as a battle station, the mental link could have been more easily repaired…a war machine would, by necessity, be built along simpler lines…or it could be that Scorponok was upgraded to a lesser degree…they may be operating it by remote control…some form of interface…if they did not start rebuilding the transector as we did, it would have been possible…there is no way for me to be certain. Nor can I say how they were able to get so close…perhaps that cloud –�

He was interrupted by a shout from Chromedome.

“Look!�

 

Scorponok’s front sections were now completely clear of the dust. His vast claws were flexing in a rhythmic, mechanical fashion. His cannons fidgeted in their housings, questing for targets. His blank head held steady though, staring straight towards the city he approached with silent, menacing purpose. And standing atop the giant cranium, his arms folded, his armour gleaming, was Megatron.

 

Why are none of them flying?

It was Gallen who asked the obvious question. Fortress Maximus was about to answer when the dust cloud cleared completely. Scorponok’s immense, segmented tail arched over his body. At its tip was a vast, spear shaped object, surrounded by an evil looking nimbus of energy. The Electro Stinger. The hideously powerful weapon that Maximus himself had ripped from his nemesis’ body so many years ago. For a few, terrible seconds, he just stared at the Stinger, at Scorponok, at Megatron. This was it. Peace on Nebulos was at an end.

 

“Prepare the city for transformation!�

“Commander, we are running two entirely different control systems simultaneously, with over half the transector in a state of disassembly…the dangers of attempting transformation – �

“Are nothing compared to the Decepticons, Brainstorm!� came the shouted reply as Maximus ran to the interface unit at the rear of the control room. He fitted his body into the mass of components, steeling himself for what was to come.

“Gallen – detach.�

His head disconnected and transformed, the Nebulan leaping to the floor. A network of connectors descended in Gallen’s place. The last thing the Autobot heard before the transector’s sensors took over was his companion’s hurried “Good luck!�

 

Then came the pain.

 

Megatron watched as the Autobot city began to shake. Scaffolding and construction materials went flying as the roadways and buildings coalesced back around the central skyscrapers. Slowly, so painfully, unnaturally slowly, a humanoid figure drew itself up out of the metropolis.

 

The Decepticon triggered his communicator link with Scorponok; the Headmaster hanging suspended in the complex interface the Constructicons had devised to allow him to control his transector. It did not replicate the fluid, seamless merger that would normally have existed between mech and machine, but with Maximus weakened by his incomplete reformatting, it did not have to.

 

Megatron waited until the titan had achieved two third of his transformation.

“Fire!�

The world went white.

 

Millions of volts of directed electricity crossed the intervening space and struck Maximus with a blinding blue/silver flash. It cascaded through his body, causing massive overloads. The force of the energy left his armour scorched and warped. Fires broke out and hundreds of components shorted out. Neural dampening systems kicked in to stop the pain from blasting his mind but it was too much. They were flash fried and he was left half blind, cut off from essential sensor banks. He tried desperately to regain some control but the conflicting control networks were over taxed and ineffective. Scorponok was on him before he knew what was happening.

 

As Megatron leapt clear, the gigantic scorpion charged across the ground and smashed into Maximus’ side. Before he could topple, the Decepticon brought a claw round and caught his still half-formed arm. With a mighty heave, he was sent flying across the plane. The impact thundered through the landscape. Scorponok opened fire with his myriad of weapons batteries, transforming as he advanced.

 

Meanwhile, clear of the two giants and the Electro Stinger, the Decepticon army struck. No longer in the path of their former leader’s sting, they were able to take flight as they wished and death began to rain down on the Autobots. Explosions rent the air, energy bolts and missiles blazing in all directions.

 

KATRATHOOOM!

“For Megatron, for the Decepticons, ATTACK!�

“GET DOWN!�

WOOOMPHHH!

�Scattershot, look out!�

“Wa – hah! Missed, ya rust buckets! Technobots, unite!�

BOOOMM!

“Triggercons, attack!�

“Who do you think you are Ruckus? Who just died and made you –�

“Shut up Crankcase or I’ll shut you up!�

VAATHOOOMMM!

“Crosshairs! Duck!�

“Think not! You dead are!�

“Weirdwol – arghhh!�

ZARRRKKK!

ZZZZTT!

“Grr…grrr…grrr…�

“Why, hello there Skullcruncher!�

“Uh? Oh, frag!�

BAAAMMM!

“Goin’ down, Scoop!�

“Hey! I didn’t ask for you help, Horribull!�

ZZZSSSSAAAUUU!

“Course of action computed.�

“Dreadwind, Darkwing! Combine and destroy Computron!�

“What’s the point?�

“Yeah, why bother?�

“Do it! I command you!

“Alright, alright, Mindwipe, we’re going! Come on.�

“If we must…�

RATATATATATAT!

“Point that thing somewhere else!�

“Gonna make me, Poorshot?�

“That’s rich from someone who couldn’t hit a mountain with a photon bomb, Snapdragon.�

“Why you – grrraaaarrrggghhhh!�

CRRRUUUUNCCCHH!

“Arrrggghhh!�

BOOOOMMM!

“YAAARRG –�

THHOOOMMM!

FRRRAAGGH!

BOOOMMM!

THHHOOOOOOMMMMM!

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

 

Scorponok hoisted Fortress Maximus’ body high into the air. He towered over the battlefield, surveying the devastation. The Autobots were being overwhelmed. They were attempting to retreat but there was nowhere to go. The Decepticons had encircled them, slowly drawing closer and closer to the remaining defenders. Broken bodies lay everywhere. Flames engulfed swathes of the grassland, wild, destructive flowers.

 

Is this the freedom you want? questioned the inner voice that was Zarak.

With a grinding noise, Maximus’ remaining abdomen gun swung out of its housing to aim down at Scorponok.

The only freedom there can be, answered the gargantuan Decepticon as he hurled his enemy into the ground.

 

Standing amid the shattered carcases of a group of Targetmasters, Megatron savoured the sensation of standing triumphant on the field of conquest. Maximus lay sprawled and burning. His troops had collapsed under the uncontrolled fury of the onslaught. Another Autobot colony lay in tatters. Once more, the Decepticons were victorious. And to the victors, the spoils…

 

He beckoned to the purple and grey monster that had just emerged from a collapsed building.

“Squeezeplay?�

“I have them commander.� The saboteur held out his hand. Nestling within was a collection of silvery objects, linked together with a tangle of wires. “The Brain Cells.�

“The key to copying our new cerebral systems. Excellent.�

“Err…commander, I came across a communiqué that stated that the plans for this device had been transferred to Cybertron. The Autobots will be able to create a new generation of troops as well.�

Squeezeplay looked up at his leader. He was surprised to see that the mech was still smiling.

“That represents a very minor obstacle. One we shall soon overcome.�

 

Megatron took one last look at his surroundings. Scorponok had returned his transector to scorpion mode and was systematically flattening the remaining buildings. Jets circled overhead, searching for survivors with the dedication of vultures.

 

He rose into the air, firing his cannon once to attract his army’s attention.

“DECEPTICONS! WE RETURN TO CHARR IN TRIUMPH!�

And next, he added silently as his warriors’ cheers echoed around him, I’m coming for you, Prime.

 

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Coda 2

 

The construction bay was filled with the screams of heavy equipment and the burning flashes of welders. Technics and their assistants scurried about with clipboards and trolleys, orbiting the giant like flies around meat. Periodically, there would come the loud SSS – CRUMP of an armoured plate slamming back into place.

 

Looking down from the overhead gantry, it appeared to the Commander to be a scene straight out of some mythical hell. Scavengers around a corpse that was being seared with irons. Except, that corpse would soon be restored to life.

 

The Commander had removed his helmet and a ceremonial cape hung over his right shoulder. That was the only concession he made to the past. He refused to wear the cloth mask favoured by his predecessors. Why bother to hide your face when no one bothered to pursue you?

“Commander?�

A communications officer sidled up clutching a data pad.

“Sub-commander Demetri thought you should see this.�

A brief glace at the screen told him that the reclusive Demetri had been right. He had needed to see it.

 

Taking the pad, the Commander walked along the gantry and down towards the floor. The chief scientist scuttled over.

“You’re just in time sir! We are beginning activation procedures>�

“Are all the precautions in place?�

“Yes sir!�

“Then proceed.�

 

A low hum filled the air, a pulsing, rhythmic sound. Power lines feeding into the body began to glow. Energy seemed to spread oil-like over the robot’s armour. Slowly, its eyes lit.

 

The sounds of the Cobra machinery faded, taking the flowing energy with it. The giant’s hands flexed. All the humans present stared in awe. This creature had fallen through void and fire to land at their feet. They had taken the wreck it had been and restored it, making it great once more. They had taken technology that should have been far beyond them and bent it to their will. The scientists among them swelled with the pride of achievement. And tried hard to rid themselves of the nagging suspicion that most of the work had been done by the nanites that had swarmed out of the ruined creature’s innards.

 

Hanging in the construction rig, the Cybertronian stared down at them, its red optics blazing.

“Greetings, Cobra Commander.�

The words slinked out of its vocaliser, smooth and strangely high pitched for an engine of destruction. The Commander stepped forward.

“Greetings…?�

“Starscream,� came the reply, “Decepticon Em – Decepticon Aerospace Commander.�

“Greetings, Starscream. How do you know of Cobra?�

“I had dealings with the original Cobra Commander during my time on Earth. I presume you are his successor?�

“I am the fifth man to bear his title. I also consider myself the sanest.�

“Really?� Starscream chuckled. “You mean, you’ve given up trying to conquer this path – this planet?�

“After the Eco-wars and the GU, there is very little point it that. And if we were aiming for world domination, we would not be hiding in a hole in the American desert.�

“But surely America, being such a powerful nation…?�

“It was…just like most of the old nations. After the environment collapsed, closely followed by the economy, everywhere got fairly wrecked during the wars over the remaining oil. America was one of the worst hit. When someone finally got a grovelling and desperate plea off to the Galactic Union, it was beyond the help of even their most skilled enviro-engineers. The World Government set up shop in Africa.�

“So why are you here?�

“There are fledgling tyrannies hatching out of the wastes. They need armies – competent armies to help them on their way. We offer our services. For a price.�

“I see.� Starscream tilted his head to one side. “While we have been talking, I have been examining my body. You have done a very good job on the restoration.�

“We have had some practice…never on a live Cybertronian though.�

“I am impressed. Your choice of colouring is interesting.�

“A little presumptuous to render you in our livery perhaps…�

“Not at all. I like it.� He smiled a smile that would have been winning had it not come from a towering war machine. “May I transform? It has been too long since I have been able to do so.�

“Of course.� The Commander snapped his fingers. “Be my guest.�

 

The rig drew back, letting Starscream move freely. He stretched in a peculiarly human way. Then, as the assembled Technics dashed aside, he pitched forward. His legs compacted. His arms reconfigured. Wings swung into place. His head disappeared and his chest flipped round. With a reverberating clang, a black and red space fighter dropped to the ground.

 

The Commander approached.

“We used one of our own fighters – the Stormshadow – as the template.�

“Again, I am impressed.� Starscream’s voice emerged from unseen speakers. “Human technology must have come far.�

“It has.� The Commander reached for the datapad. “And I hope you will repay us for our help.�

“Naturally!� came the genial sounding answer.

 

Not that I believe you for a moment, the man thought as he proffered the pad.

“I believe you might be interest in this. We intercepted an Autobot transmission to the Galactic Union Headquarters…�

 

Starscream transformed and delicately lifted the tiny computer from the Commander’s hand. Bringing it up to optic level, he began to read.

“To Ambassador Beacon…casualty report, Nebulos attack…Brainstorm – deep stasis, Arcana – severe injuries…Crosshairs – terminated…Fortress Maximus – deep stasis, transector – damaged almost beyond repair, Gallen – coma…Highbrow – heavily damaged…Technobots – all in deep stasis…medical team in attendance…city levelled…heavy casualties…civilians…Scorponok active…attack led by M –

 

“MEGATRON!�

The Decepticon’s voice became a thundering shriek. His faceplates shifted wildly as emotions flashed across them – shock, anger, hatred, fear. The shout startled the Commander. He had intended to show Starscream that his comrades were rebuilding, that he was trapped on Earth, away from them and that Cobra could be only too glad to help him get to them…in return for whatever technologies he could provide.  A high-risk strategy, perhaps – and certainly not the only option available – but one that could have worked. The Decepticon’s response, however, had changed things.

 

“There is some problem?�

For a moment, the Commander thought that Starscream had not heard. His optics were still fixed on the pad. After a few second though, they shifted to the human. The ebony and crimson fighter slowly knelt down so that his face was closer to the Commander’s. He seemed to have composed himself.

“Cobra Commander…you mentioned repayment for this body. I would be honoured to provide you with an army of invincible warriors as an exchange for this exquisite frame.�

“We already possess mechanoid warriors –�

“But clearly they are not good enough.�

“They are not Cybertronians, true. We have been unable to perfect them without a life-imbued endoskeleton to work around.�

“Then that is what I shall give you.�

 

If the Commander had been a trusting man that would have had him jumping up and down with glee. However, he was not.

“You would give up the secrets of your race simply because we gave your nanites the materials they needed.�

Several of the scientists flinched but Starscream smiled.

“You are an intelligent human, Cobra Commander. No, you are right. There are a few, minor conditions attached to my offer. I will require materials and facilities. There will be several tasks that I will have to perform that will seem…odd. I will want a certain amount of freedom to travel outside of this base. And some of the troops I construct, I wish to retain for my own protection.�

“‘Protection’? From Megatron?�

“Yes.�

“He wants you dead?�

“Let us say that he would not encourage my continued good health.�

 

A few seconds passed as human and Decepticon locked stares. The Commander did not trust Starscream. And he had a feeling that the sentiment was reciprocated. But Cybertron was one of the oldest civilisations in the known universe. To share in even a fraction of their power…

“I accept your terms.�

“Excellent!�

 

Starscream jumped to his feet and clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the hall.

“As of now, my allegiance is to you Commander!� The ‘winning’ smile returned. “First things first. What chance is there of finding out what this body is truly capable of?�

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Next: The Storm

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Well, the pieces are almost all in place.

 

I'm sure you'll all be able to work out where Megatron intends to strike next...

 

The next episode will take some time to wirte, mainly because it's going to be one long battle.

 

Hope you've enjoyed it so far and stay tuned!

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  • 4 months later...

As threatened...G3 continues with a two parter!

 

 

 

Transformers Generation 3: Episode 5:: The Storm

 

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Stepper lowered his rifle, letting the overheated weapon cool down. All around him, target drones lay shattered and smoking. He felt no pride in the destruction he had wrought. What skill lay in mindless violence? And what in Primus’ name had possessed him to choose the training scenario best suited to those who enjoyed that sort of thing?

 

Looking down at the gun he held, a twinge of dismay passed through him. The rifle was a finely tuned precision instrument. It was not made for prolonged shooting sprees. In fact, it was exactly like him. He did not need to ‘let off steam’ like lesser mechs. No, he was cold and collected, his emotions tightly constrained, outside distractions kept firmly at a distance. Any frustration, any hatred, any anger was locked down and bottled up, stored away until it could be focused on a single objective, a single target. Then and only then could it be released at the touch of a trigger, consumed in an instant of perfect, flawless death.

 

At least, that was how it should be.

 

The Autobot discarded his empty ammo cartridge and left the training centre, passing a pair of gaping orderlies like an icy draught. The courtyard outside was deserted save for the shadows, lengthening as Iacon slowly passed into night. Stepper stalked through the compound, moving purposefully but without any true destination. Eventually he sat on a lonesome bench, well away from the general thoroughfares.

 

He should have been closeted away in the central barracks preparing for the coming mission to Charr, but the brainless prattling of his ‘fellow’ gunners had begun to tax his sanity. He had been overcome by the uncontrollable desire to blow large holes in something. And it was not as if he really belonged with a bunch of common – well, not as if he belonged with them. Nor did he need to swat up on which bit of a Decepticon to shoot, or what a sub-atmospheric laser installation looked like.

 

Yet…how had he allowed it to get under his armour? Whatever tensions had built up in the city as the counterattack loomed, it should have not been getting to him. What could have triggered his sudden lack of control? It was shameful.

 

Why was he trying to avoid it? He knew perfectly well what was wrong.

 

Stepper’s gaze fixed on the tallest of the golden spires that plunged up into the darkening sky. It was crowned in a tangle of gantries and antenna that offset its evening-enhanced lustre. Up there was the communications centre. Up there was Blaster’s tenuously controlled kingdom. Up there was Wavelength.

 

From the moment his miniature cronies had humiliated Stepper in the Underground, the sniper had hated the sanctimonious comms ‘bot with all the passion he could muster. But it had only been when he had learnt of Wavelength’s heritage that he had begun to…to…to – he could hardly bring himself to think the word – to dread him. He may have been a gladiator, have survived deep-level Cybertron and (judging by his reaction to having a laser cannon accidentally dropped on his foot) be able to swear like an infantry mech but he still had the accent and breeding of a Mech Tor.

 

Did he know?

 

It did not seem logical that Symphony, mad old battleaxe though she had been, would have kept such a thing secret from one of her own prefects. And even if she had, surely Wavelength would have been bright enough to find out for himself. Despite being at odds with his family, surely he must know about it.

 

In that case, would he not try to find it again? Might he assume that it had been lost in the castle’s destruction? Would he try and make certain? Would he discover Stepper’s involvement? Had he already done so?

 

Apparently, Wavelength could not actually read minds, just project his will, but was that true? The thought of another picking through the depths of his consciousness made Stepper flinch. Especially if the Mech Tor could simply pluck out the memory of what had happened. What would he do if he found out?

 

Stepper was certain of what he would do if their positions were reversed.

 

Unconsciously, the sniper’s left hand had strayed to his chest access port. Irritated, he snatched it away. No! In there, it was safe. In there, it was secret. Which was how it must stay. Determination fell into place in his mind, bringing freezing cold clarity. His path was clear. It was his duty to protect it, to keep it for Mech Clkt. He owed it to those who had gone before. Especially Mirage.

 

Enough of all this addle-brained, defeatist thinking! When the moment came, he would fight for it. For now, there was a battle to prepare for. Wavelength had shown no interest in Stepper as yet. Only when he did would it be time to deal with the problem…in a very permanent manner.

 

Confidence and composure restored, the assassin started on his way again. He strolled calmly back towards the barracks, leaving the spires to stand vigil as the sun fell away and the moons rose to the heavens.

 

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Ratchet leant his forehead against the lift doors and let his optics switch off. It must have looked odd, him mimicking such a human action but he was too exhausted to care. By Earth standards, he had been working for three days solid. He had not stopped once since he had stepped – no, raced from the shuttle onto Nebulos. Stabilising the most badly damaged, patching up the lightly wounded, getting wrecks into intensive care, rushing Nebulans to hospital, overseeing the transportation of CR pods back to Cybertron – there had not been one moment where he had allowed himself to gather his thoughts or rest his protesting servos.

 

Now, suddenly, there was nothing left to do. The worst cases had been placed in stasis while their bodies healed, the less severely damaged were recovering in the wards of the Central Infirmary and a few remarkably uninjured mechs had already been got up and about again. Grudgingly, Ratchet had left the theatres and set off to get some rest. If Fixit and Minerva hadn’t ganged up on him, he would probably have been staring at the blank faced CR chambers until he had run his tank dry.

 

The lift slowed to a halt. He was just quick enough to avoid falling flat on his face as the doors swished open.

 

Right. He looked around. The corridor was empty but he could hear voices nearby. One of the physical testing wards. He had better go and check on whoever was in there. Then he had to try and get through to Nebulos to check on the hospitalised Headmasters and then get some rest and energon before preparing for the mission to Charr. First things first.

 

The testing ward ran half the length of the top floor. One side was composed of windows, the other walls covered in mirrors. Ramps, weights and assorted other equipment were neatly stacked in the corners, though Ratchet was annoyed to see that someone hadn’t put the wind tunnel back properly.

 

A line of cones had been set up down the centre of the room, around which a newly repaired Hosehead was tentatively driving. Beyond him, Sprocket and Quickstrike ware alternating between watching the fire engine’s progress and admiring the moonrise.

 

With an inward groan, Ratchet saw the stocky silver figure standing by the monitor computer. Along with the Decepticons, Megatron and the Terrible Twins, Evac was one of the banes of the Chief Medical Officer’s life. A good physician and an adequate surgeon, the helibot had an ego that could rival Sunstreaker and a prissy, fussy manner that drove those around him to contemplate murder. Ratchet tried to retreat but it was too late.

“Ah, good evening Ratchet. Please, do come in. I was just testing Hosehead’s motors.�

“What d’ya mean you were just testing ‘em,� grumbled the Autobot in question, “I’m the one running round an’ round in circles! You haven’t done a thing ‘cept order me about an’ press buttons! Primus, yer’ worse than Highbrow!�

“I have been observing your reactions,� came the lofty reply, “and kindly so not compare me to my brother. I find it insulting. Would you care to peruse the results of my tests?�

 

The last was directed at the new arrival.

“Ah…no thanks. I was just…wanting a word with those two.�

Glancing at the Theta Varons, Eavc sniffed.

“Far be it from me to critisize, but they should have been discharged by now. And your attention would surely be better placed –�

“Thank you, Evac.�

Ratchet walked away as imperiously as he could on a near empty fuel tank.

 

Quickstrike rose from his seat as the doctor approached.

“It’s good to see you again, doc…I never really got the chance to thank you for sticking my rotors back on.�

“Believe me, it’s good enough to see you up and about. After the past few days…and what happened on Varos…the more lives Megatron doesn’t get to take, the better.�

Sprocket nodded at that but remained silent.

 

It was she who had really drawn Ratchet over. He had known Quickstrike since the attack on Kolkular in 1998. The warrior had seen enough death before and after that disaster to be able to cope with what had happened on the colony world. But Sprocket was far younger and practically a civilian. He was very worried about the way she seemed to have withdrawn into herself. Given what had happened to her at Megatron’s hands, never mind watching her friends’ slaughter, he could fully understand the reaction. And he was determined not to let it destroy her.

 

Ratchet kneeled next to the small femme and gently touched her hand.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that.�

“No, you should have.� She spoke quietly but vehemently. “It’s true! Megatron must be stopped…� Her voice cracked slightly as she spat out the hated name, “But… I… just wish I knew how.�

The medic sighed quietly. He recognised the uncertainty that had flooded into the younger scientist. A long time ago, he had felt the same.

“Listen: no matter what he thinks, no mater how many innocents he tries to crush, he is not – he can never be invincible. No one is. He can be beaten.�

“But…how many people must die first? How many have died already?�

 

Too many, answered Ratchet in the confines of his mind. Somewhere, far off, thunder rolled.

“No matter the cost, we have to stop him.�

Sprocket looked up in surprise.

“I know that. Of course I know that. It’s just…I don’t…I can’t…fight…anyone. Not Megatron, not any Decepticon…I tried…but…�

“That’s nonsense,� began Quickstrike but Ratchet cut him off.

“As far as I’m concerned, simply living is fighting back against the ‘cons. And don’t start about not being strong enough or brave enough. You question yourself after what happened. Anyone would. Me. Quickstrike. The Nebulan ‘bots will when they wake up. Mad mechs like the twins have. Even Prime, even Grimlock will have. But we’re all alive, we’re all ready to fight back, to avenge the dead and bring that bunch of killers down. Just because we don’t have weapons ports all over our frames, or ‘draulics like Dinobots, it doesn’t make us helpless. That’s Megatron’s biggest mistake. It always has been. ‘Cause we’re the ones who survive and snipe and steal and think our way to victory. We’ve played the biggest part in winning so far. We will again.�

 

Thunder again and a faint flash of light. Sprocket grappled with the impromptu speech. Quickstrike’s jaw hung slightly open.

“Primus, doc! Since when have you been able to give rallying speeches at the drop of a helmet?�

“I’ve been around Optimus Prime most of my life – most of my lives. He rubs off on you after a while.�

A slow smile spread over Sprocket’s face.

“And with him in charge, how can we lose?�

Ratchet matched her expression.

“That’s what I always say, usually just before we hand a few ‘cons their afterburners. It won’t be easy but –�

 

Wait. Thunder and lightning? On war-free Cybertron?

“What’s wrong?� Quickstrike leaned closer. “What’s up, doc?�

The white mech was already pressing his faceplate to the window. The building shook as the darkness flared into ruby brilliance. There was a harsh roaring sound, like a thousand snakes hissing together.

“What the frag was that?�

Hosehead was also at the window, a camera on the end of his ladder swinging back and forth. A few seconds passed, followed by another hideous rasp. A column of vermillion light plunged from the sky, arcs of energy cracking about it. With cold, perfect precision, it struck the spaceport, sweeping though the ranks of ships. A shuttle slumped, then vaporised. An Ark was pummelled to fragments. Mechs simply vanished. Abruptly, the light was gone.

 

The ward’s windows had been blown inwards, peppering the occupants with glittering shards. Patients and doctors righted themselves painfully, just in time to see another scarlet lance disintegrate a planetary defence battery. Ratchet could not see where the attack was coming from and he did not care.

“Evac! Get out of here! Take Hosehead and help get all of the patients to safety!�

Helibot and fire engine raced for the door while their superior turned to help the other two. If he had been a fraction slower, he would have been done for. The bolt of purple destruction carved a gash straight through the building, burning away walls, roof and floor with equal ease. Ratchet and the Varons were smashed back down by the shockwave. Looking up, they all wished it had done worse.

 

Quickstrike let loose a string of colourful curses. Sprocket froze, the image of an animal caught in headlights. Ratchet felt a thousand nightmares on jet turbines rise around him.

 

High above Iacon, Megatron lowered his fusion cannon.

“Decepticons – ATTACK!�

 

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“Justice, Herald and Fortitude have been vaporised on launch pads!�

“Fifty – seventy – eighty – eighty-nine percent of Iacon’s ground to air defences have been destroyed!�

“Trans-atmospheric blasts traced…originated from Tryptic surface or close orbit!�

Trailbreaker and Smokescreen were bellowing out reports as they dashed from computer console to tactical display and back again. Xaaron and Skater skidded to a halt just inside the Ops room. Technicians were racing to their stations amid an air of general panic. Alarms were blaring and information was being screamed out as it poured in from around the city.

“Spacebridge opening over outer Iacon!�

“Decepticon aerial forces massing over the financial district!�

The Emirate nodded grimly.

“They’re hitting everything in sight. By the time we get to them, the damage will already be astronomical –�

“Quiet.�

The word thundered into the room, quashing every noise in its path. Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, Elita One and Perceptor at his side.

“Switch off those alarms and sound general battle stations. All combat adjusted Autobots to converge on Outer Iacon. Fusillade manoeuvres. Begin tactical support. Key comms grid to military traffic only. All civilians to evacuate to deep bunkers.�

As his orders brought calm and a flurry of action, Prime looked to Xaaron, data pulses leaping between them.

“You are in command here. Contact Magnus, Grimlock, Atlas and Jetfire. Tell them to get troops here quickly but make sure they prepare themselves. You have Prime level authority. If necessary, initiate Protocol Five.�

“Understood.�

“Perceptor, stay here. Elita…�

“With you.�

The two leaders raced away.

 

Xaaron glanced at Skater. His aide was already uploading the latest reports to his datapad. Steeling himself, the aged mech strode to the command station.

 

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“Frag, slag and smelt!� Blaster was gripping the keyboard so tightly that the metal was warping. “‘Cons rampagin’ through low-town, Seekers ‘n Sweeps blitzing the high rises, Megatron’s slaggers everywhere – n’ our boys won’t be near ‘em for at least a breem!�

“Our first aerial warriors will reach them in fifty astro seconds,� Wavelength pointed out as his fingers blurred over the network-realignment controls.

“Ever seen a flight of ‘con air warriors at full power?�

“It is not pretty,� concluded Aerial from the other side of the hexagonal communications hub. The room was full of frantic chatter and the roar of explosions, mixed in with a healthy dose of static. Blaster was perched on the edge of his control gantry, sickened by the sounds and images that assaulted him.

“We have to buy some time!�

“‘We’ have to?� Confusion looked up from helping Eject ready an emergency force shield projector. “This is a comms-base, not a gun nest!�

“The amplifier.�

“What?� Blaster looked round.

“The amplifier,� repeated Wavelength. “We can use it as to distract our enemies. If I ram my output up to maximum, we should get enough coverage –�

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! It doesn’t work, remember? The interface…�

“I’m not talking about mental commands,� came the answer as the other communicator lugged the equipment into the centre of the room, “I’m talking about mind blasting. I should be able to refine the signal just enough to affect Decepticons more than Autobots.� He jammed the crown of fibre optics over his head. “And if our mechs have prior warning…� Catching sight of Blaster’s face, he frowned. “Do you have a better idea?�

“I…but…do it! Twincast,� the red Autobot yelled at a nearby screen, “get me a wide band mil-comp link to all mechs – and max jammin’! We’ll have to warn everyone on our side! We want ‘em to know this is gonna hurt!�

 

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Holding position above the hospital, Megatron soaked up the atmosphere. Thunderous explosions were rippling through the fields of skyscrapers. Blossoms of smoke and flame were springing up beneath the rain of fire. Metal predators filled the air, swooping and jeering as they massacred all the terrified, grounded weaklings. The sights, sounds and smells of his home planet were almost overwhelmingly beautiful.

 

Not that he let them distract him. With precise malice, he fired another fusion bolt into the wrecked tower, driving the trapped Autobots back yet again. He had reduced the top floor to a tiny, precarious island that barely supported the three mechs clinging to it.

 

Fate was smiling on Megatron. Not only was the attack proceeding as planned but it had also delivered into his hands the infernal Ratchet and those two Vosians he had ‘spared’. What was more, he actually had time to toy with them for a while. Still, he muttered impatiently to himself as he blasted another bit of his target’s refuge.

“Get a move on, you sanctimonious excuse for a garbage truck. I haven’t got all night…�

“My lord!�

Cyclonus’ voice crackled from Megatron’s communicator.

“Autobots detected, inbound on an attack vector.�

 

At last. Megatron took aim at the medic and his patients for the final time. This game was over.

“Should weaaarrrraaagggghhhhh!�

“Cyclonus? Wha –�

The warlord’s hands flew to the sides of his head. His neural cluster was ablaze. Discordant transmissions bombarded him, swamping his sensory units like a river of napalm.

 

Then all at once it was gone.

 

The attack had disorientated him so much that he had tumbled nearly a thousand feet. Righting himself, he tentatively tested his central processors. They seemed to be clear of whatever radiation had assaulted them.

“Soundwave! What was that –�

The shriek of rocket boosters filled his audio sensors and a crimson meteorite smashed him sideways.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Unbalanced by the sensory assault, the airborne raiders were caught off guard by the Autobot counter attack. A wave of jets swept out from Iacon’s military districts, armed to the teeth and ready for the fray. They were closely followed by attack copters, helijets, low-level battle shuttles and the regal shape of Sky Lynx. Engines screaming, they set about the invaders with a vengeance, firing on anything with a Decepticon insignia. On the ground, scores of vehicles of every description thundered along the roadways, unleashing missiles, lasers, masers, mortars and everything else that had come to hand.

 

For a moment it looked like the Decepticons would have to retreat in the face of the enraged Autobots. But it did not last. Seekers rallied around their squad leaders, forming into triads to out fly and out manoeuvre their opponents. Sweeps harried the slower flyers, acid lasers dissolving everything in their path. Thunderwing plunged out of the sky, leading a squadron of heavy fighters on a bombing run that cut a swathe through the cars and trucks, leaving the expressway littered with blazing wrecks. Spacebridges flared into existence, disgorging Combaticons, Horrocons, Predacons, Terrocons, Battlechargers and even Mircomaster battle squads. The air went thick with ordinance and smoke. The rumble of weaponry mingled with the tortured howls of collapsing buildings.

 

There may have been more Autobots but as so often before, the Decepticons out gunned and out classed them. Even Sky Lynx was unable to gain an advantage, forced back by salvo after salvo of fracture rockets.

 

Soon both sides were seeking shelter or vantage points in the fallen metal work, the battle descending into a frenzy of smaller fights for control of the wreckage.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Megatron leapt to his feet, the symphony of war echoing and rebounding all around. He had no time to appreciate it. He moved aside nanoseconds before a laser bolt gouged a second impact crater in the roadway. His reflexive counter attack missed as well and Optimus Prime landed safely a few hundred metres away.

 

Their optics locked.

“Well Prime…how kind of you to welcome me home.�

“Shut up and die.�

The Autobot’s rifle snapped up, streams of deadly energy shrieking towards Megatron. Already in motion, their target danced out of the way, his rail gun flinging shells as he went. Now it was Prime’s turn to dodge, diving and rolling to his right, rifle still blazing. Before he could regain his footing, a flare of antimatter smashed its way into the roadway beneath him, flinging him into the air.

 

Megatron charged at his foe, hands closing on Prime’s wrists. With a deft twist, Optimus launched the Decepticon away. A flailing foot caught him on the chin, wrenching his head round. ‘Drive protesting, Megatron slowed his flight and cushioned his landing. With a snarl, half angry, half contemptuous, he launched a wide-angle fusion blast. Unable to evade it, Prime was driven backwards, armour hissing and straining under the assault. After a few seconds, it abated, leaving the crimson mech steaming and wide open.

 

Grinning, Megatron fired again. But Prime had recovered too quickly. As he sidestepped, two turrets crammed with gun barrels swung up from his backpack to sit on his shoulders. With a sound like ripping metal, a hail of micro rockets cascaded from them. Through the missiles were not particularly powerful, the combined onslaught was enough to stagger Megatron. This time it was Optimus who charged, wielding his rifle like a club. Pain lancing through his faceplates, the Decepticon fell back…and transformed.

 

As soon as his treads hit the road, he launched himself forward. His primary barrel struck Prime in the abdomen, propelling the Autobot across the elevated street. He windmilled his arms, trying to stay balanced. Megatron rammed him at full speed, pouring all his power into the blow. With a yell, Prime was pitched over the expressway’s parapet.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Why do I feel like we’re going the wrong way?�

Domino’s question broke the uneasy silence that had stretched between the Freebooters for the past few breams. Backlash shrugged irritably.

“‘Cause you’re cross wired?�

Harpoon said nothing, trying to focus on navigating their way through the service ducts. The spy cassette was right. The mercenaries were walking away from the fight, abandoning a perfect job opportunity. It felt unnatural not to try and take advantage of the situation.

 

“We go that way,� continued the cone-head with a thumb jerk over his shoulder, “we get fragged by the first trigger-happy mech that sees us.�

He was right too. With the attackers firing indiscriminately and the defenders firing on anything vaguely Decepticon looking, the Freebooters would be diced in the crossfire before they could start choosing sides.

“But what good does running away do?� Domino was not going to let up. “Where do we go?�

“Polyhex, Kalis, Nova Cronum – anywhere we can get a ship off-world or a bolt-hole ‘till there’s a chance of a job.�

“We could have just helped the ‘bots.�

“Slag it, Dom! You know the rules! Contract and half pay up front. No exceptions.�

“Even when –�

“Even when! Primus, anyone would think you were getting to be a ‘bot.�

“Better’n being a ‘con an’ slaughtering – urk!�

 

Backlash had reached down and hauled the femme into the air.

“There’s no slagging difference! Start thinking anything else and we should just forget everything we’ve ever done! Forget being Freebooters, forget surviving!�

Harpoon was about to split them up when Whirlwind tapped her on the arm. He had been oddly silent up to then, his giggling reduced to a vague grin and a few twitches. How though, he had a huge smile plastered over his face and was pointing wildly at the side of the duct.

 

Dust was billowing off the wall as it shivered and bulged outwards. They looked at it dumbly then scrambled away, Backlash dropping Domino as he went.

“Primus on a slagging planetjumper! We were supposed ta’ be going away from the fighting!�

Harpoon led the dash round the nearest bend, hauling Whirlwind with her.

“We were!� she hissed as the metal began to split along the bulge, “We are! We’ve got to be on the other side of the city by now!�

 

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“Oh come on Prime!�

Megatron knelt looking over the edge.

“I know you’re just hanging from some convenient ledge or hovering on those new boosters of yours.� He smirked at the city below. “I just wanted you to see how it feels to be knocked off something so tall.�

The tumult of war still rending the air around him, he only heard the retros an instant before they cut off. He started to turn.

 

Several tonnes of truck hit him in the back, forcing him to the ground. Prime’s spiked wheels spun, crunching into Megatron’s armour before propelling the two of them apart. The Decepticon did not bother getting up. He simply reverted to cannon mode, spinning to face his foe.

 

The volley of energy bursts missed the scarlet vehicle be millimetres. Prime gunned his engine before his enemy could re-target, hurtling past the gun. Turning sharply, he opened up with the two lasers that sat on either side of his canopy. Armour scorched, Megatron swung, his assorted barrels trying to lock on.

 

Having managed to hit everything but the Autobot, he found himself thundering along the expressway side by side with Prime. Optimus was too close to Megatron to fire on and took full advantage of the proximity, extending pulse blades from his hubcaps to slice at treads and gears. He easily weathered the repeated ramming attempts.

“Face it Megatron!� he yelled in challenge, “You can’t fight the King of the Road like this!�

“Well then…� grated the cannon.

He suddenly slowed and fired repeatedly.

“I’ll just have to remove the ‘King’s’ road!�

 

Prime hit the brakes, veering wildly as he tried to avoid the gaping hole that had materialised ahead of him. For an instant, he was in void, wheels spinning uselessly.

 

He transformed as fast as mechanically possible, arms shooting out to claw at the air. Then they caught hold of the jagged road and seconds later, he was hanging, suspended from his fingertips nearly a kilometre in the air.

“What’s the matter Prime?� Megatron chuckled as he loomed over the stranded Autobot. “New rockets not working?�

 

Unfortunately, he was very close to the truth. Prime’s jets were only built for short-term flight and between his stunt outside the hospital and preventing his earlier tumble, he was dangerously low on fuel. He probably had enough to get back onto the road surface…but not with Megatron in the way.

“Come on Prime! No quips, no taunts? No attempts to through me off balance with wordplay?� The maw of his fusion cannon came to bear. “Do you want it to end like this? One bang, no time for a whimper?�

 

Optimus desperately searched for a way out. He had a whole host of weapons that he could try and unleash but he’d be atoms before he got off a shot. He could let go and try to evade – no, not a hope. Megatron would pick him off with ease. If he could just get him to relax his arm…well, if he wanted to talk…

 

“Give it up, Megatron! There’s no way you can win! Even if you kill me, your forces will be crushed!�

An ugly expression flitted over the Decepticon leader’s face, suddenly to be replaced by one of wide-eyed shock.

“Great Primus! You’re right! What was I thinking? Here, let me help you up so I can surrender to you!�

He reached down. Prime sneered.

“Pull the other one, it’s got chimes on.�

“With pleasure.�

His hand darted, caught one of Optimus’ wrists and he heaved. It happened so quickly that Prime lost his grip and went arcing through the air. He flew over Megatron’s shoulder, the painful landing jarring every circuit in his body. His attacker leaped over him, making quite sure Prime was between him and the hole.

 

Seizing Prime’s crest, Megatron yanked his head back.

“Look. Iacon burns.�

Towers were falling left, right and centre. Roads were crumbling to dust. Hover platforms were dropping like stones. Everywhere, mechs were dying.

“And it will get worse. I’ve got rather a big surprise coming. You see – eh? What was that?�

“I said SNAP!�

Megatron whirled.

 

He got a brief glimpse of a blue scout cart shooting past hauling a huge trailer. Then everything went end over end as Prime’s Battledeck ploughed into him.

 

As soon as the trailer's breaks had halted its slide, the cart unhitched itself and raced to Prime’s side. The Autobot heaved himself up.

“Well done, Roller.� He patted the little being on the turret then looked to the fallen warmonger. Megatron was sprawled against the expressway wall facing the Battledeck’s rear door. Unhurriedly, the trailer unfolded, side panels opening like giant leaves. A gantry rose up, followed by two smaller blocks. Guns trained them selves on the silver giant, six atop the gantry, two smaller quad turrets on either side of the now open ramp, a set of missile tubes in the smallest of the elevated blocks.

 

Optimus did not hesitate, He sent the mental command. The Battledeck fired. So did Megatron.

 

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Part 2 coming soon!

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