Starscream had personally seen to the training and modifications imparted to the up and coming Seekers. The four salvaged sparks had been fitted into frames of his own design, tweaked by his memory of the Terran jets and shuttles for certain advantages the organic race had discovered for their aerial frames. With war fading from the recent memory banks, Starscream was actually finding fulfillment in being the leading mind of Cybertron, pushing every experiment he'd ever dreamed into place, all while guiding the four new mechs to be the future of his class.
If he had kept his treacherous nature closer, he might have seen the signs of their contamination earlier. As it was, Skywarp's reaction to the pain on the trine bond might have been the only reason Starscream made it out of the attempted betrayal still activated.
It was Thundercracker who had to report to Megatron that Starscream's injuries would require a lengthy stasis in a C.R. tank, and that the Aerial Commander's attackers were nowhere to be found.
Your warning was well-placed, but sent so long ago that some had forgotten. Forces are building beyond the heliopause of the system, and infiltrators are broaching the defenses. We have forces in place, but I refuse to allow this engagement to drain what resources we've built, brother. Bring your warriors, and let us catch them in the middle.
The message cut itself off, and Optimus Prime looked at his assembled officers. Chief Medical Officer First Aid was looking ill at ease, while Security Chief Ultra Magnus had a shrewd look of concentration. Spec Ops Leader Jazz was motionless, the visor dimmed; he was calculating the likelihood of a dual fronted war, no doubt. Tactician Chief Trailbreaker had already begun tapping data and thoughts into his pad, working out logistics. None of their human counterparts were present for this, as it was so far a Cybertronian affair.
"Optimus, perhaps you would consider recalling Ratchet?" First Aid inquired. "I have experience, yes, but it is likely I will be needed by my gestalt."
"Negative, First Aid," Optimus told him. "I prefer to have Wheeljack assume the medical duties here, and take you and your brothers with us, for the sheer fact they are quite proven at defending a field triage site while you work, even without your arm for Defensor."
"Guessing Ironhide's out too?" Jazz asked, just to clarify.
"Yes." Optimus Prime was not going to recall the pair from Earth where they were enjoying their first peace-time vacation ever as a bonded pair… for Ratchet, his first ever, period, given that he had onlined in his present form as a war-time medic.
"Three fliers capable of transporting ten mechs each," Trailbreaker said. "Multiple trips, attempt to perfect the space bridge, or just that many going?"
"I'd say twenty of us would be enough, Optimus, given the data attached to the Protector's message," Ultra Magnus advised. "We don't want to strip our own system's defenses, and they'll still have the smaller non-sentient ships here, in case of attack. Most of us have adapted the modifications Que instituted to better maneuver and handle space without stripping to protoform."
"I concur. Path Finder will stay in Terran space, as Scattershot is more adept in battle." Optimus Prime looked around the table, and four mechs nodded in agreement, though First Aid still worried. "Ultra Magnus, you have Sky Lynx. Choose your nine. I will take Scattorshot, First Aid and his brothers, plus four more."
"Prime…" Ultra Magnus immediately objected, a microsecond ahead of Jazz.
"No. Cybertron's people are mine as well. I will not fail to answer this call."
"Then…" Ultra Magnus drew himself up straight. "I request you instate your successor with at least partial responsibilities prior to us leaving." He knew Hot Rod was ready, even if his entire cohort wished to allow Hot Rod more freedom to just be himself. He already had in mind to invite the one-time Decepticon gestalt of the Predacons to come with him, if only so they and Grimlock would stop getting into fights.
Optimus smiled, his faceplates shifting rapidly from their serious set. "I already planned to."
"What does this change?"
Daniel, now a young man, though ages meant so little to the changed humans, was sprawled over the chestplates of the newly renamed Rodimus Prime, his fishing pole forgotten. The sun beat down on them, making Roddy regulate his metals to keep from scorching the only companion that had ever seemed to grasp just who and what he was to the core of his being.
"I might be busier," Roddy said at last, having mulled the question over. "And my systems are still realigning with all the extra coding. But… cohort, ya know?"
Daniel shifted onto his stomach, and looked up at the mobile expression. "You're scared of it too."
"Terrified."
"Optimus will come back!" Daniel said fiercely, before making as much of his skin touch Roddy as he possibly could.
"He has to," the new Prime said, believing in that, even if he was prepared to do as he ought and live up to his new responsibilities for the Terran system. At least Springer and Sandstorm had stayed, to give him support when Ironhide and Ratchet found out that Optimus had gone to war without them.
Megatron was not impressed.
The swarm of nearly thirty small to mid-size drones had presented him with an opportunity to at least exercise his temper and battle skills. They were intent only on destruction, forcing their way ever closer to the temple. The Flights were keeping sharp watch on the invasion force just outside their system, leaving the protection of their world to those Autobot and Decepticon forces on the ground. Where the drones had come from was a mystery that Scion was trying desperately to determine, as they were wary of more waves depleting their energies before the Flights even had a chance to engage in battle above.
A snarl erupted from the war mech as he realized he had torn through most of the swarm, and then five more appeared. These approached with something resembling strategy and an array of weaponry that buzzed all of Megatron's awareness with the alien nature of energy powering them. Megatron shook the last of the drones off his spear hand, flicking it in the path of the closest one, and watched as it impassively blasted the wreck out of impact range.
Megatron did not want to give thought to how much more suited to war these invaders were, if that was their normal method of combat.
::A ship got past Dirge, and it landed near the temple! Fast scout!:: Scion belatedly reported.
::They have found their destruction, I assure you,:: Megatron growled over the comm before shutting his aide out, letting himself fall into the full thrall of the battle.
Warnings were damped, ignored for the most part, as Megatron's focus became that which he had made of himself. He was living destruction, intent on survival of the very fittest, with all the power in his own grasp. At this level, he could stamp out that weakness of compassion infecting him from Optimus's side of their forging, long enough to make certain not a single one of these defilers got near the temple.
Motion, counter, thrust, fire… this dance was one that Megatron knew all the steps of, and executed it with the primal grace of his heritage. One by one, the warriors met their ends, torn or blasted apart, their foul energies twisting at him when their darker energon spattered across his armor, their fields entangled in his and whispering promises of great power. 'Come to us, be with us' flicked through him on so many frequencies as he fought them, combating the pulse of Cybertron's cry to him for protection.
His roar of anger at the attempted manipulation /never anyone's *bitch*!/ carried him through the fourth warrior's deactivation, ripping it two parts with his spear and bare hand before he whirled and leveled the cannon on the fifth, final one that had hung back, directing the others. The armor on it was different, flaring open at the joints and around the throat like a native Cybertronian. Maybe that checked the impulse to fire on full.
Maybe it was the brush of fields that sizzled with native harmonics being harshed by alien interference.
Maybe it was the fact that the faceplates were twisted in pain, revealing lines that were all too familiar.
"Damn your spark, brother," Megatron growled, firing at a non-vital system at lower power to incapacitate their long-lost, presumed-destroyed tactician.
Scattorshot was in full fight mode before his processors were even able to confirm the location as he and Sky Lynx passed back into normal space. The strafing laser fire aimed his way was returned at half-power, shields sluggishly coming into full combat preparation as he did. He was thankful he'd been in the lead, as his plating was far more protected than Sky Lynx's.
Twisting into defensive maneuvers, he utilized his main battery of guns, while Warpath and Cliffjumper proved their aim with the lesser weaponry. Sky Lynx added his firepower to the fray, sticking tight to Scattorshot as they evaded the unplanned battle.
"How did they know?" was a question asked within both vessels, as Megatron had entrusted the clear coordinates only to the link he shared with Prime, at great effort for himself to span the distance separating their worlds. The need to know burned inside Optimus Prime and his fellow commander, but would have to wait to be answered. For now, the two ship-formers fought to get breathing room, to find a way to their homeworld, while Optimus Prime faced a murky, unknown danger of his own.
Confidence in the odds had quickly come once Scattorshot reported the engaging ships were mere drones, but Optimus was plagued by doubts beyond that. How could he and his squads hope to beat off the distant fleet? What if Cybertron had already fallen? His brother's hold on him was there, but flecked through by the primal hatred and rage that had colored their personal combats. What if Megatron had decided to subjugate their race through an alliance with the enemy?
His thoughts spun in darkening circles, until his HUD gave him a brief warning against an energy surge near his spark, as the Matrix flared harsh and hot inside his chest. The pain of it connecting fully, intimately, to his systems, seeking control over him, drove him to a knee.
"Prime!" First Aid moved to get to him, not able to truly crew any system for Scattorshot with so many better warriors on hand. Jazz pulsed awareness and anchorage down their link, not able to leave the telemetry station as he gathered any and all data for future use.
Optimus drew on the vorn of vorns' worth of experiences he held within to strengthen his own systems, pushing back against the sudden insurrection within himself. He caught the fierce need to protect, to fight, on such a base level that it was almost like…
…almost like communing directly with the AllSpark.
Megatron's voice roared in defiance, echoed by a cry of anguish in the secured chamber down the hall. "PRIME!"
The Lord High Protector ignored the processor-fried prisoner he was keeping, going from his chambers to the outer balcony and transforming before Scion could even appear to question the shout. All Scion saw was the afterburners of Megatron's sleek fighting form dwindling upward as the war-mech went to assist his brother.
Sky Lynx snarled and gave warning of the incoming mech, but nanokliks after he shared it, the mech was making it perfectly clear that he was an ally. Ultra Magnus's spark twisted as he was shown the very recognizable Protector viciously destroying the drones that had evaded them so far. With three able fighters, and the assistance of the crews, it did not take long to clear the path to Cybertron… and Megatron was taking up a predatory position near Scattorshot.
"Easy, Bit, he's our ally... no more fighting him or the past." Kup's hand was on Ultra Magnus's shoulder, the words said low and quiet, to ease the former provincial arbitrator's tension.
"As much firepower as a full ship-former, and you expect me to calm down while he hovers over 'Shot like that? With Prime on board?" Magnus managed to grind out.
"I do… because our Prime expects it," Kup reminded.
"Sometimes our Prime demands too much," Ultra Magnus answered that, but with less sting in his words, getting his anger under control so he would not disappoint Kup.
::Brother?:: It was a demand, snarled on a private frequency. If not answered, Optimus had little doubt Megatron would claw his way inside the ship-former to learn why.
::I am in control.:: The words told that there had been some doubt in that at first.
::But?:: That was equally demanding, but edged with concern that was possessive more than not.
::The Matrix…:: Optimus was still confused why it had felt like the device was attacking him, his very sense of self.
There was a low laugh that rippled from the Lord High Protector on that note. ::Ahh, that is not surprising.::
Optimus Prime considered that tone, sly and low, full of hidden secrets. ::What have you done, Megatron?::
::I cannot wait to show you, Optimus, just what I have done for us.:: With that, Megatron damped the link, and took on the forward position, guiding the Autobots home to their shared homeworld.
Far from the fight in space, and still some distance from the world that would see its destruction with the incoming fleet, four sleek fighters streaked into a waiting maw.
~My creations~
The ripple of possession, of domination, shuddered through every frequency the fliers possessed, forcing them to their root forms on the craggy tunnel floor. At the core of this planetoid, a primal force of the universe existed. During the war, that force had done all it could to heighten the destructive nature of its first adherent. A Fallen Prime had such power, and yet had been so blind to being no more than a tool. Now, the force had taken four essences of that world, corrupting them where they had lain hidden until used to create these warriors.
The primal force, called Entropy, or Destruction, reached upward through the tunnels, and grasped each of the four.
~Let me improve you, so that you will prevail~
Transformation was a painless process, normally. Forced reformats, on the other hand, as all the data of billions of years of observing the Fallen's forces was collated into one overlay on the four, created audial-shattering screams from the chosen warriors.
Such sounds were joy to the force that hungered to extinguish all creations of its nemesis.
Few things kept Megatron from doing just as he wanted. However, the two ship-warriors needed to be refueled immediately, and all of the Autobots needed to refresh their energies with the rations that Scion had put back under state control…with Powerglide assisting on the distribution thereof. They were all in a time of war, and had to be certain no one got too much.
Megatron wanted to cut Prime away from the rest, to take him immediately to the temple, yet he knew his infuriating brother would not yet be willing to part company from his troops. He put it to the side for now, introducing Scion as his aide, and current Second. The Seeker tried not to look as run-down as that position entailed; the Flights were only listening to him because Thundercracker had flat out refused to take lead again, but would not allow any other trine to usurp the prestige.
Quarters were in process of being assigned, with Megatron plotting on how to make Prime come with him away from the palace, when Scion stiffened, and turned with anguished optics toward Megatron.
"The fleet just disappeared… and is now in the inner system," Scion reported, stifling the emotion of the Seeker comm lines so suddenly rife with the loss of their forward sentries.
"Autobots! Consider yourselves under the Lord High Protector's command," Optimus immediately said, turning to take his orders from the military commander, by traditions long ago lost to their war.
"Guard the ground, and loan me the two war-ships," Megatron said, throaty rasp of pleasure letting Optimus know that he was very content to not have to demand.
"Of course."
"Cybertronian ground forces, obey your Prime as you have for me during this incursion," Megatron commanded over the general frequency in use for military efforts. Before he parted to join the sky-borne defenders, Megatron's talons caught on Prime's shoulder. "Victory, brother."
"Victory," Prime promised, for there was no other choice for their worlds to survive.
The battle began violently, with no small skirmish, but an all-out engagement. The Flights were coordinated, and they had experience, but the sheer presence of the true fighters among the many drones of the enemy were throwing the odds in favor of the attackers. Those fighters gave off a disorienting energy that scrambled basic sensor nets, and led to too many Seekers leaving themselves vulnerable to crippling shots.
Then Megatron was out of the atmosphere, ripping through drones and warriors alike, flanked by the two Autobot war-ships and Scion darting lithely around all three with his smaller but faster design. The four were no strangers to space battle, capable of delivering crushing blows and precision fire that were fast turning an outright rout into a fighting chance.
The more the enemy's energon… not quite true, and fouls with taint… splashed onto the Megatron, the more destructive he became in his hunt for the true warriors facing him, making even Scion worry, though the Seeker deflected the Autobot inquiries haughtily.
Then the fleet they faced cleared the way, revealing four who mimicked Megatron's design, down to the very weapon placements. Scion prickled with knowledge, as passive scans revealed Cybertronian identity glyphs in their coding, but they were not Seeker-designed now.
"Prepare to meet your destruction, for failing to understand your place with our Lord," the foremost warrior rasped, voice a deeper, more sonorous echo of Megatron's own inflections.
"You dare to presume to steal my form and voice?" Megatron snapped, using his current momentum and target track to get a firm placement of all four. He would need to fight well, if they all had managed to scan not just his outer form, but the various hidden systems that gave him his edge.
"It was always intended for the Destroyer, and I will become the chosen bearer of it!" the lead warrior informed him, lashing out swiftly with an energy pulse that stung and ripped through shielding as if they did not even exist.
::The Destroyer?:: That thought lanced from Megatron to his army, to his aide, and to his brother, before he had to give his all to survival in the face of what might be stronger odds than even he could overcome.
"Yield to Galvatron, and I will let my Lord reformat you as one of my Hunters, perhaps…" the fighter demanded, as those whispers of pure destruction assaulted Megatron in a cacophony he could not escape. The Lord High Protector struggled to maintain defenses, aware of Sky Lynx and Scattorshot trying to keep the other three at bay… where was Scion? That was a focal point, distant, away from this fight maybe?
No. Scion was not distant, and in the moment Megatron knew it, he flung his form through the transformation sequence to avoid a shot, making this self-proclaimed Galvatron track his motion… leaving the interloper open to the ramming technique Scion had adopted from Ramjet, nosecone specifically reinforced by all his shields. The puncture came at the abdomen, with Scion screaming in agony across the bands at that much of the tainted energon spilling through his systems. Megatron threw himself back to ship-form, prepared to finish the task, but the other three turned from their fights to try and get to the fourth of their quad, leaving Megatron to quickly snatch Scion to himself by tractor beam. The young Seeker tried to muffle the sound, as corrosively tainted energon seeped into all his seams, not wanting to be weak when his leader was taking the time to save him from his own folly.
::Good strike, Scion, but next time reserve some shield power for buttressing all your ports and openings,:: Megatron praised and scolded in one. A flick of sensors told him that the four warriors were falling back, and both Autobots were guarding Megatron's retreat with the smaller Seeker in tow. ::Once clear, inside Scattorshot.::
::Yes, m'lord.::
There would be a retreat for now, as the fleets separated too, but Megatron was already considering how to fight back, and soon.
Where the invasion fleet had been, the Destroyer started moving slowly toward its prey, the very moons and planet called home by the species it desired to end for all time.
The ground battle had been limited, and the presence of the Prime fighting alongside the other warriors on the surface had rallied the Cybertronians with fervor. Now, while First Aid worked with the creepily silent Hook to repair those who had been injured, Optimus found his way to Megatron. Surprisingly, the Protector was in a smaller med-bay, watching as Reflector's tri-part forms cleaned and repaired Scion.
Megatron had gone through the powerful wash-racks, blasting the tainted energon from himself. His nanites were on the way to repairing what damage had been done, a fact Optimus reassured himself of with a hand on the war-mech's shoulder armor. Without taking his optics from Scion's still frame, Megatron covered that hand with his own.
Optimus cherished such a simple gesture as a sign his brother was truly healing to his spark. There was also that intent gaze on the young warrior, one that…
::He is your heir?::
Megatron tried to scowl, but failed to pull the emotion across the bond. ::Yes. When I chose him, I thought it was strictly for how closely he matched Starscream. I have since noted the presence of secondary systems he did not design himself, and other signs that he is to be the next.::
::Small.:: Optimus's comment was meant to amuse, and Megatron knew it, letting a smile emerge.
::He'll have to upgrade.:: Megatron agreed mildly, before he did finally look at his Prime, searching for signs of the future for the other lineage. ::None of the clutch he came from bore signs of being Prime. While it has been known to begin out of two clutches, you have not sent word about any new creations.::
Optimus sent a negation along their connection, looking back at the flier being cared for. ::My heir was created before the AllSpark was launched.::
Neither mech dwelt for long on the why and how of that event, or the loss of their life-source. Megatron merely considered it and the implications. Scion was a budded creation, and meant to complement an AllSpark creation. That could be complicated in the end.
::No, not entirely,:: Optimus hastily sent, feeling that thread, and the genuine concern that it could lead to a new war due to their differences. ::The AllSpark… created through my Autobots, before what I did, brother. Each cohort I could trust fully had a hand in making a creation, even as the AllSpark gave us some that were meant to be placed in stasis immediately.::
Megatron realized that cleared up much of the mystery surrounding the youngest heroes of the Autobot's faction, those who had been amazingly gifted and full of courage. It also gave him a thought as to where those sparks Starscream had conveniently 'found' had come from. ::The scout? He is one; is he the one who is to succeed you?::
Optimus chuckled as he heard the grudging respect given to his young cohort-mate. Bumblebee had proven himself to be quite the fighter, very quickly in his young life, against Megatron himself. ::No. One out of Kup's line.::
That made the shrewd Protector consider, recalling what he had learned of the Autobots following his long exile. ::The brightly colored one, bearing your flames even?:: At Optimus's nod, Megatron squeezed the hand on his shoulder. ::He fought well on the frontiers, from all I have in shared data files.::
::Perhaps, going forward, we will be less known for how well we fought, and more for what we make?:: Optimus found himself sending before he could censor all that hope from spoiling the quiet rapport he was enjoying with his brother.
Megatron shifted, letting go of the hand and moving from under it. Optimus wanted to curse himself for a fool, until Megatron looped his own arm around Optimus's broad shoulders. ::Come, then, and see that which I will give our kind to remember us by.:: The barely restrained delight and anticipation was flicking strong in the brushes of Megatron's fields along Optimus's, and made the Prime quite curious under his elation that Megatron had not chided him.
The Destroyer felt a pulse of alarm. The path to the planet was straightforward and with speed, but the Destroyer did not have enough power to teleport itself the same way the fleets did. The keys to the Destroyer's prison were approaching the lock.
::LORD MEGATRON!::
The frantic cry for help and data-burst behind it caught the war-mech just before he and his co-ruler reached the great archway to leave the palace grounds.
"My prisoner has escaped his chambers," Megatron snarled at Optimus, turning to go deal with it.
"Chambers, not cell?" Optimus followed, transforming one arm into a pulse rifle, keeping the other ready for closer contact.
"It's Prowl." Megatron's growl did not explain things, but it made Optimus's spark surge, even as they went to contain the prisoner… who was hunting them as well.
Destroy them. The refrain pulsed through the circuits, speeding along nanite conduits, held as the second command of his being. The first, as it had been since his reforging, dipped in the life-fluids of the Destroyer itself, was submission to the Destroyer's will.
Breaking free of the chamber he had been in came with the sacrifice of a small power relay from within his upper leg. He did not require it for battle, and it served well to break the door open and cripple the guard. Now, driven by that pulsing command and led by something older, something deeper than any changes wrought in him, the warrior pushed through the corridors, heedlessly knocking others aside with force enough to delay.
A small tiny voice tried to brake the headlong rush toward destruction, but the surging energies that fueled him agreed with the controlling nanites.
Megatron and Optimus Prime had to be destroyed at any cost.
The frame was the right size, but cloaked by the jagged, dangerously edged armor. Optimus Prime looked deeper, at the protoform peeking through those ridged bands of cutting metal, and saw all that had told Megatron of who this truly was. The Prime wanted the tale of just why that had led to Prowl being a prisoner in less than a cell, let alone still functioning, but for now, he had to concentrate on how to fight alongside his brother in a small, confined space that worked to their attacker's advantage.
::His existence is in your hands, brother. If you wish to salvage him, I will only maim.::
Optimus filed that for later, so he could figure out when his Protector had acquired a sense of humor, before remembering a certain memory that might well protect them now.
::Low energy pulse after I hit mid abdomen; my blow should disrupt the fields enough that your shot can take his processor offline,:: Optimus sent, transforming his free hand into the 'Thor-hammer' as Carly's creation had once called the blunt melee weapon he had adapted for his use in the aftermath of the peace agreement. It was not a lethal device, if used correctly, as it delivered a contact electrical pulse in time with whatever force Optimus landed it.
Landing the blow proved difficult, as Prowl… this being who was Prowl at the core, anyway… met him move for counter-move.
::You're fighting like you did here! Don't let him dictate the fight to you, or I will vaporize him,:: Megatron snarled across the bond, avoiding a back-handed blow his way as he tried to work around the dangerous mech.
Optimus took those words to heart, and opened up all he had learned on those other worlds, most recently Earth and Mars. Megatron had been right; fighting Prowl had regressed him to a safer place, one where Prowl could match him. Yet, it had been half-deliberate, a test to see if Prowl was still in there, able to spar his cohort-mate from memory. Now knowing that Prowl could (that Prowl was still present), no matter what had happened to him, Optimus could let loose.
Not half a klik after Optimus got the needed blow in, Megatron followed with a blast from his cannon, one designed to disrupt rather than destroy, and Prowl fell at his Prime's feet, twitching with electrical current.
"Guard me," Prime commanded his brother, dropping and extending data jacks in one quick move, looking for the medi-ports.
"You fool!" Megatron managed to get out, but he could not move fast enough to stop his impetuous co-ruler from jacking into the alien-possessed Prowl.
Megatron moved, incapable of stopping his co-ruler, but refusing to potentially lose Optimus on the verge of their greatest triumph. While Optimus had unspooled all of his data patch cords into Prowl, Megatron was not that foolish, not when he had to guard his brother from physical threats as well as internal ones. The mediport had its own firewalls, and that was the port Megatron jammed a single connector into, monitoring as his foolish brother attempted to navigate the alien mind inhabiting Prowl's form.
His cannon remained powered up, aimed for the weakest point of Prowl's armor; he would destroy the other mech before he lost his spark's own match.
Ancient explorations had led to this planet, a place where life was developing with evolutionary impartiality. One explorer saw the brutal survival of the strongest of the way that life should always evolve, granting the ones who continued supremacy over more and more of the environment they lived within. The other demurred, seeing a hierarchy of responsibility with rigidly defined places to hold and use the abilities of all that were created.
Two powerful talismans were crafted and given to the favorites of each explorer. One granted life with new and growing capabilities, and the other was meant to grant power over all others. Over time, the talismans blurred, even as the compromise of the explorers caused a blurring. Strength led to power, but rigid caste systems held the system in unending stagnation. All the while, the new lifeforms evolved, aware dimly of the meddling that had taken place, but slowly losing the truth of it. They had the AllSpark, with its mutable gift of life, and they had the Matrix, granting the bearer an ability to know how to best place all of the others into their places.
Through it all, the explorers continued to argue over whose gift and view of life was correct. To prove a point, the one who believed that all life was a trial of survival for the fittest seduced one of the mandated rulers from the other explorer. This one, who Fell from the power his caste gave to him, planted the seeds of destruction in others, guiding the race into sharp divisions that tried and tested the rigidity of their society.
And over time, this unending conflict grew into true War. The derivation of the caste system was lost, lines were blurred as evolution demanded new ways to survive, and both explorers found other races to study and learn.
Then the gift of the Evolutionary Explorer was lost, along with the seeds of destruction planted in that first Fallen. Rather than let the Caste-Maker when, the Evolutionary One knew it was time to return, and destroy what had grown from that first experiment with life.
Optimus pulled his cords away from Prowl in haste, processors reeling with the basic truth of creation imprinted there. Prowl was still offline, and it was Megatron's solid frame that the Prime fell back into.
"Truth has many facets, brother," Megatron managed to say, less directly affected, but considering the viewpoint given at the base of Prowl's interrogation.
"The AllSpark was designed to always grant new life and make it stronger than before, while the Matrix gave the Primes the power to rule over anything it produced, to maintain order?" Optimus murmured.
"So that drivel you found would lead us to believe. And yet we were raised with myths of a benign creator and a malignant unmaker." Megatron sounded thoughtful as he said it, and Optimus swiveled his helm to be able to look at the larger mech's sharp features. Megatron smiled and his optics glinted with hidden knowledge. "Optimus, before the cohort system that you so enthusiastically espouse, what was the more common state of our world's people?"
"Dyads. One Autobot, one Decepticon, with lineage associations based on class and code," Optimus said. "It's the founding principle of the Prime and Protector, with the earliest ones being crafted from split-spark twins…" His words tapered off as he started to suspect what Megatron had already concluded.
"Until three Primes prior to you, when the balance was broken, and the pair meant to rule were chosen at different times from those available with the correct coding," Megatron said. "But that's not the important part. Tell me, Optimus, why the Matrix and the AllSpark each have the ability to grant life and disrupt time? Tell me why we only have one of the mythical pair in our system? You have the key to answer these questions, from personal knowledge…"
Optimus's processors whirled, seeing the answer right at the tip of his logic extensions, glinting like the bright hue of polished metal, bright as Sideswipe…. "Not two, but one made two," he murmured, thinking of his beloved bodyguards, and their unique existence.
"If they, this ancient explorers, are one made two, what do you think that means for their gifts to us?" Megatron stroked a talon along Optimus's arm.
"But the AllSpark…"
Megatron rose, pulling at his brother. "This time, nothing must stop us from reaching the Temple, Optimus Prime, for I tell you this: the AllSpark is nearly reformed, and I think the Matrix is all we need to complete it!"
The unit on planet had failed. The pair were en route to the swirling power source with the key. The Destroyer was running out of time. The harsh dichotomy of either rigid classism or anarchist survivalism was a failed experiment. It could not be left intact, testament to the flaws of the Maker and Unmaker incarnate.
Megatron had subverted the AllSpark once, bring forth drone-warriors. He now knew the subversion had been in creating life that was not stronger than what had come before. He had also been deactivated by the AllSpark, and the vorn of contemplation in his Temple had brought back pieces of those dying processes. That was why he could glimpse the truth behind what they faced. Secrets had become his treasures, as Cybertron's sparks came home. What Optimus found inside Prowl had confirmed his suspicions, that the division in their race was forced, part of the Fallen's grand scheme, but now he knew that scheme had never been just the Fallen's idea.
In the Temple, Megatron would prove out his theory, with or without Optimus's willing assistance, and then he would have all the power.
What came after…
…well, first there was a threat to eliminate.
The planet was heavy in metals but energy arced through and around it. They had seen this dynamic before, but never had they seen the metals develop into true life forms such as crawled around and along the planet.
"Let us stay and see how it changes?"
"Perhaps we can encourage it to become as we are."
"They will have to be strong, overcome the weaker ones."
"There must be rules, for even the weak have their place."
Both watched, both touched the lives of those early metalloids, and they learned that their chosen paths for them species made conflict, both on the planet and within themselves. Eventually, they went to see other places, broken by dissent now, but their first shared planet continued to evolve.
Optimus looked in awe at the Temple. It did not look like the original one, a fact he kept tucked deep inside his spark, rather than let Megatron hear any perceived criticism. This edifice was imposing, but also beautiful. It was meant to be a fortress, for it was to house the soul and life of their people, but the crafting of it was uniquely blended between the sharp edges of the Decepticon art, and the smoother, rolling planes of the Autobot style.
"It belongs to all, in looks and function," Optimus murmured.
"Are we not saving our race together from extinction, brother?" Megatron rumbled, danger and warning both in his voice, for this was his greatest legacy, the dream for which he had forged himself in new directions. All it would take was the union of their sparks within the walls, and all would be right, for Megatron would have all the power he needed to make their race the superior beings in the universe.
Optimus ran his hand along Megatron's shoulder, and mingled their fields in apology. "I did not mean to imply otherwise, Megatron."
The war mech nodded and then commanded the doors to open so they could enter.
Galvatron roared as the last of his lines was spliced, optics glowing crimson with battle lust from himself and the master he served. His elite came near, and they prepared to launch for the planet itself, using the jump-tech of the fleet.
"I will rend that small flier limb from limb and wings from back!" he declared.
~You will stop the appointed pair!~
The crushing mental presence pulsed in Galvatron's processor until the warrior submitted.
The Destroyer's chosen would destroy the pair, and lead the way for complete annihilation of those creatures that had once fascinated a pair of explorers. The Destroyer could only see them as the Maker's spawn now, refusing to admit that neither of them had been correct in how the species would evolve.
Megatron had stepped inside first, for this was his space, unshared with any living mech. The instant Optimus crossed the threshold, his chestplates grew hot, and the doors to the temple sealed. Megatron turned as Optimus fell to his knee, hand scrabbling futilely at the center seam of his chest, while all around them the spirits and energy flow intensified.
"Megatron…" Optimus called, as the pain within spread from his chest through out his frame, and yet his chest refused to open and let the artifact causing it out.
"Easy, brother," Megatron rumbled, coming down to his knees in front of the struggling Prime. "They know we are here, together, as is needed. And the Matrix you hold must be the key to what I have seen in my dreams." Clawed talons drew the Autobot closer, their optics meeting. "Trust in me, brother, so that we may win this fight."
The energy thickened, growing into the most visible spectra of light, as the souls that each leader had sent to its rest came to dance attendance on the rebirth of their race's spark. Optimus pulled his hands clear of his chest, settling them on his brother's arms. Megatron's data cables snaked free, finding the home ports encased in Optimus's frame, opening his own in turn. Despite how much it hurt to process actions at the moment, Optimus managed to sync his own cables to his Protector's ports, joining them at the simplest level.
"I am yours," Optimus replied, lowering his firewalls as Megatron requested it.
"Together, we will succeed," the war mech rasped, as he sent the command that had been denied Optimus, making his chest open for him. The Matrix accepted this as confirmation that both halves of the whole were present, and escaped to float in the center of the maelstrom of souls.
Scion struggled to force awareness through, feeling something dangerous in the level of concentration from his Lord.
"Rest," Powerglide said gruffly, hand on the helm of his young friend. He'd come to keep watch, as soon as he could, despite his own wounds.
"Lord Megatron… can't defend… Threat coming…" He managed the words, processing the notices from the Flights, from his Lord, and trying to make himself understood.
"Scrap, but you just keep throwing me to the top of the pile, don't you?" Powerglide ground out, but he was standing and in motion before the words fell away. With some trepidation, Powerglide opened himself to the common Seeker band, and relayed the imagery that had come with Scion's words.
Surprisingly, he got no argument as he stepped into the temporary leadership of the combined forces of Cybertron.
::Better you than me,:: hit him from both Thundercracker and Blitzwing, making him smile and shake his helm. Now he knew he was crazy for the scraplet.
Energy crackled around both kneeling mechs, but Optimus did not close his chestplates, nor withdraw his cables. His Lord Protector moved closer, exposing the spark within his own chest. Optimus vaguely remembered his own impressions /a spark that was discolored and dim in places, while blinding with the red fury of war in others/ from their last and only true spark merge. This time, Megatron's corona raged with the red of a warrior roused to battle, but the core was blinding white in devouring energy, no longer so fractured, and yet so hungry for the cooler blue of Optimus's.
~we are one~
Neither thought it; it was truth as the contact was made, forging them into one as all the spark shard around them whirled in a growing frenzy.
Truth exploded into their awareness, each caught by the other, no longer able to comprehend the fact their armor was being stripped away, breaking them down to their protoforms as each spark within their frames knew who they were in full.
~created as one…~
~separated by the time currents.~
~the AllSpark was broken when a Protector died, and the Prime failed to extinguish.~
~always meant to be two, at once, not separated.~
Megatron's presence within the merge pulled free, resisting as Optimus embraced what they were giving to their people. He wanted to control it, to bring it under his mastery, not be subsumed…
…and then he knew that was where the Unmaker had broken, fighting against the part of itself that was the Creator as well.
~let it begin anew~
With that surrender, even the protoforms of the ruling dyad was given over to create the new AllSpark, with the Matrix at its core so that the creations would be whole and able to follow both paths of their past, or neither.
::Should be you doing this,:: Powerglide snapped off as Jazz touched the defense link. ::Or you,:: he added when Ultra Magnus joined in.
::You're the native,:: was Jazz's distracted reply. Something felt off, wrong even, deep in his spark, but… it wasn't so unusual for Optimus to shield himself completely during battles.
::I am delegating ground authority to you, Ultra Magnus, anyway. Jazz, Megatron had a prisoner in the palace that was being handled with kid gloves. Security is reporting the prisoner escaped and then was left in the halls by the Lord Protector and the Prime. He is yours to deal with, and learn what you can. Thundercracker? Blitzwing?::
::Here,:: they acknowledged.
::Blitz, take the other transports and all the fast-drones we still have high. Thundercracker, I want the mid range Seeker class in atmo, armed with concussive rounds and drill lasers.::
::Sky Lynx and Scattorshot will join you, Blitzwing,:: Ultra Magnus said.
::Good, because my class is still flying light,:: the transport answered.
::Concussives?:: Thundercracker questioned.
::Hit them high, just as they enter, push their reentry off-vector. You should get in good laser sights as they try to correct,:: Powerglide explained. ::Common tactic on thick atmo worlds, where reentry is a slagging problem.::
::And ours is thicker than its ever been,:: Thundercracker sent back, admiring that little tactic. ::Alright, we're on it.::
::There seems to be a singular point of focus in the incoming forces, near where the temple had been,:: Ultra Magnus told them.
::Is there,:: Powerglide said firmly. ::Make that the main defense point for ground forces?::
Ultra Magnus sent his consensus, and then they all broke out of the command link to go do their best.
No enemy was going to wrest this planet away without destroying all of them first.
The invading fleet had taken damage, but they had been quick to cannibalize the weaker ones in hasty repairs, and moved to engage the heavy ships intercepting them above the planet. With so many drones, the few true warriors were finding it difficult to strategize now, and were operating under the orders to get in range for bombardment. With that driving focus, it was far easier for Blitzwing's part of the defense force to pick them apart than any of their previous engagements.
There were troop ships, carriers with drones meant to destroy, and those were the ones jockeying to get lower, sacrificing others around them to achieve planet-fall. The effort was met with a very thick concentration of the remaining Seekers doing just as Powerglide had suggested, with improvisation. After all, since they had stolen Skywarp's unique ability in a limited fashion, he felt it only just to teleport right over a shaken ship and blast it point blank as it tried to correct angles against atmo burn.
Consequently, there was very little for Ultra Magnus, his Autobots, and the native Cybertronians to truly fight at first.
Then four fliers were suddenly in the air, dropping a horde of small, scuttling metal-eaters, and they had more than enough to contend with for a fight.
"Roddy, you're not going to believe this. I've seen everything, and I don't believe it!" Springer called, tugging the young Prime to see the event stabilizing inside one of Metroplex's largest unused spaces.
"Springer, when you say that, you sound like…" Rodimus began, but seeing the solid pool of energy, large enough for a mech of good size to walk through, he had to stop.
~Bring more to defend me~
Rodimus Prime clutched at his helm, the weight of that voice rattling every processor he had. But it was undeniably a call that pulsed purely to his spark. He got control, steadying himself on Springer, who had reached for his cohort mate instantly. When he looked up, his face was calm, set, and… holding all the dignity of a true Prime. "Assemble all the fighters available in Metroplex to come here. Send an alert to Earth to those there they must come and guard this place, and be prepared to come if we call, through that."
"Through that? Where's that go, Roddy?"
Rodimus shook his helm. "Don't know how I know… but that takes us to Cybertron, and we are needed."
::That planetoid is in range!:: Blitzwing snapped over comms to all the various commanders involved in the fight. ::Slag, it's breaking apart into… NO!:: Communication broke off as Blitzwing had to maneuver sharply to protect Octane from being blindsided. The whole orb had begun disintegrating…or so they had thought until they realized each chunk that sloughed off was transforming into a new fighter or pod of drones.
::BLITZWING!:: Powerglide snapped off, still in atmosphere to coordinate the fight on all sides.
::Here… slag, that was close. We don't have the mech-power to handle it up here!::
Powerglide's processor worked around that, taking in the tactical displays he was being sent. He hated to give up the aerial advantage, but… they were going to be destroyed up there by sheer mass and numbers. ::Pull your drones in, all of you, and gate out!::
::Run?::
That hit him from Blitzwing and Thundercracker both.
::Regroup… craftily!:: Powerglide sent, seizing on the image of the moons, out of the immediate vectors and with shielding tech of their own to give to Blitzwing. There was a spark-pulse of hesitation, and then confirmation. He hoped that meant Blitzwing understood.
As single-tracked as the enemy was, maybe getting them out of sight would lead to the enemy forgetting about them for now.
::Thundercracker, prepare to pull back as well,:: Powerglide sent to the Seeker. ::We are going to have to meet them on the ground, with that kind of numeric advantage. The terrain favors us; we know it intimately.::
::Seekers were meant to fly,:: Thundercracker bridled.
::I know… which is why I want you to do what Blitzwing did. Leave me a token force, and pull the rest back to out of the battle range. Once we pin them down… you do what you proved vorns ago you're best at.:: Powerglide let the bitter amusement slide through his send, admitting that the strafing attacks from on high had been one of the most destructively effective Decepticon tactics.
::Might make a fighter of you yet,:: Thundercracker said in grudging approval.
::Scram before I shoot you myself,:: Powerglide sent back in gruff irritation… and a touch of pride. He was one of the smallest fliers, and not even an officer in the war, but he had the approval of big-time power players.
Galvatron was… pleased. He had smashed two linkages at once in the pathetic gestalt brought to bear against him, and even now held the mech who led down, cutting into his armor slowly with great relish for the task. His master demanded he move on, into the structure ahead of him, but there was too much joy to be had in slowly extinguishing a spark, watching as its owner struggled desperately for freedom.
He realized after the fact that his lieutenants were not as effective as he was, though how something wearing that much red streaked with black had slipped through was a matter to determine later. As it was, he barely had time to imprint the colors, before a small bodied-mech in a tight ball of mass slammed into his chest and knocked him off the fallen leader of this rabble.
"Stick that in your exhaust!" the little warrior taunted, gaining feet and traction with the ease of long practice.
"Cliffjumper…" Ultra Magnus called, trying to get the small, fearless warrior to give ground. He saw Warpath then, and Trailbreaker, so he let the warning die away as he struggled to stem his energon loss.
First Aid, despite injuries to three of his brothers, was quickly at his side, grace under fire in the deft patches he performed. "Noncritical injuries, as we have tempered the linkages over time to withstand more damage than any mech should withstand," First Aid reported. "However, the joins are fused shut, which means we cannot call on Defensor."
"We'll manage," Kup said, voice a half-chuckle as he reached them. His tone made the pair look… and they saw Menasor entering the fray. First Aid could not help tensing; that team and his own had been at odds nearly since creation, midway through the war. Then Menasor swatted one of the three lieutenants aside, roaring defiance and carnage at the enemy, and First Aid remembered the war was over.
Maybe he'd even be able to help them through their problems some cycle, and find more maturity as his own team had done. He hurriedly slapped more patches into place, bypassing where the damage was too heavy so Ultra Magnus could keep on his pedes. It wasn't optimal, but that was the curse of being a battlefield medic.
Ironhide had been getting edgier every day for weeks, Ratchet had noticed. Of course, he wasn't much better, using his time lately to actually dictate new training modules on mech repair while studying what was involved in spark-budding and other forms of mech creation. He finally couldn't ignore the fact Ironhide and he were both reacting to something in the cohort bond that they had purposefully shielded themselves from before coming on this vacation.
"We gotta go back," Ironhide said just as Ratchet was about to speak.
"Well, the vacation has certainly got us more in tune," Ratchet said blandly. "Back to the catapult it is." As he dropped into his alt so they could roll back for the base with the gravity well catapult their kind used (and the humans used for launching supplies to their outposts), he started breaking the code that helped them both keep a solid block on the cohort connection, so they could become more aware of what was happening.
Bumblebee was first to touch them, closer than the rest, and imparting the information that all Cybertronians were recalled to Metroplex, except a minimal staff Bumblebee was keeping at the embassy. Ironhide harrumphed, wondering what was so important but not important enough to contact him directly. He spilled his own awareness out further, reaching for Jazz, even as Ratchet was reaching for Prime.
Jazz was distant enough to be but a bare pulse of life in the distant web of their cohort bond, making Ironhide lay enough speed on to make Ratchet struggle to keep up. Prime, on the other hand….
::I can't feel him. Not beyond him being activated still,:: Ratchet sent the instant Ironhide queried.
::Jazz has to be on Cybertron, and what little trace I feel of Prime says the same, but you're right. He's not really… present.:: Ironhide did not like this at all. ::Like he's in commune with the Matrix, like he used to with the AllSpark.::
::That always goes so well,:: Ratchet tossed back, flicks of various times it had blown up in their laps, trying to let Prime search their histories and then implement ancient ways to correct their problems.
::He's only got Jazz. Mik and the rest of our cohort are in Metroplex,:: Ironhide quickly sent, having touched against his strongest human link with Will.
::Let's go rescue our noble leader from himself, once again.::
Rodimus Prime had never seen the AllSpark directly. After his creation, and the creation of several others in a desperate surge to help the AllSpark, Rodimus's cohort had taken to space with a contingent of Autobots set on liberating the colonies. He knew now that Optimus Prime had ordered this of Ultra Magnus to protect the future Prime from discovery by Megatron. Frankly, Rodimus still thought the AllSpark had made a mistake by placing that coding in him instead of Bumblebee or Arcee or any of his 'clutch' mates.
Stepping through the anomaly to come face to face with the artifact Sam Witwicky had destroyed brought momentary panic to Springer, Rodimus, and the others that had assembled.
~They come. Defend us all, Rodimus Prime.~
The voice that resonated delivered images of ancient beings, both organic and mechanical in their appearance. Outside images came forth, showing Ultra Magnus and Kup both pinned down by heavy fire, a gestalt in the distance struggling to retain its linkage, and both factions fighting back to back against the strange biotech warriors.
::Autobots… and Decepticon,:: Rodimus added, once he felt the presence of Blaster slip in through the gate, ::there is a fight against an ancient presence outside this building! Our cohort mates, our race… they all need us! So let's get out there and put this fight down for good!::
His words, delivered with all his youthful fire and the power of the AllSpark's resonance had the assault force roaring even as they spilled out of the building and into the courtyard of the new temple. Blaster hesitated, looking up…and he saw why as a control pod swept down, opening to him.
"I can do this," the communicator said softly, sending his pair of symbionts out to join the carnage, while giving himself to the temple for defense control.
"How in all of the nine rings of Tchthes did Roddy get here?" Kup demanded, picking off a careful shot to pull one of the loathsome fighters off Menasor's hip.
"Who cares; we need the back up." Ultra Magnus would discuss leaving the Sol system at a later time; right now the extra squad of fighters was just what they needed. "Tchthes was a slag pit anyway; why'd that one come to mind?"
"Because it was a slag pit, and so's this fight!"
Then the ground shook under the landing of the real enemy, causing Ultra Magnus to leave himself open just a moment too long. Galvatron was right back to exploit it, even as Kup found himself wrestling one on one with one of the ones that looked just like Galvatron.
"That's huge," Rodimus said as he got full sight of the Unmaker. Once organic, 'improved' by technology and then calcified over the lengthy journeys it had experienced, all Rodimus could compare it to was the mythical rock giants he'd read stories of to Daniel as a small scraplet.
"Just means it will fall down harder!" Springer encouraged, leaping into the air to meet their new challenge.
"Springer!" Rodimus called, running after to try and help keep his cohort mate in one piece.
Once there had been two explorers, last of the race they'd been born to, exploring for the sake of finding new things. Then they argued, each with different ideas. Never wishing to be alone, the difference drove too deep, and one proved stronger, making the other silent when they left the planet with its small lifeforms.
The Unmaker thought the Maker remained behind, and felt betrayed, for being alone was not how either was meant to be. Now, seeking an end to the silence, or at least to the reminders of solitary existence, the Unmaker had decided destroying the Maker's chosen place would soothe away the pain.
Watching as the divided parts of the whole unified to fight for survival made a smaller voice inside the explorer find strength.
~never left you; you forgot me~
With a roar, the Unmaker, flawless and could be no other way, swatted at the rotary craft as if it had placed that voice within itself.
Springer tried desperately to regain control, to pull up and catch himself, but all his gyroscopic guidance was offline. All he could do was brace for impact, and hope First Aid could still put him back together.
Then he was caught in the manipulator of a gestalt, a landing that was still rough but not smashing. He was set down by the gestalt… it appeared to be Bruticus… before the gestalt joined Rodimus's defense against the giant tech-organic threat.
"Seen everything," the rotor-class mech said as he forced himself to transform for his mech form, intent on testing his swords against that rocky armor.
Blaster was amazed as he realized that the temple was better guarded than even the palace. His processor subdivided to handle each gunnery emplacement, lending firepower and cover to the mechs outside. As he did, he heard whispers of those who had gone before, almost as clearly as he could hear Scorponok and Steeljaw outside in the fight. He could not let himself lose concentration when Steeljaw took his first real injury; Scorponok was there to protect him. Instead, he listened, hearing as the voices guided him to help push the fight between the young Prime and the Unmaker to a certain spot. He felt reflectors glowing with power all around that path, and his quick mind understood that this time, the AllSpark had defenses of its own in place.
Or was that the Matrix? Those chittering sounds were familiar, as the AllSpark could never be. How often had Blaster heard the whirs and clicks of Optimus's artifact, and know it for the symbiont it was meant to be? If it was here, where was Optimus? Where was the Lord High Protector?
Those questions were silenced as quickly as the concern for Steeljaw, as Blaster once again provided defense for the Temple of the AllSpark, and helped lure the Unmaker into the right place.
~Back, Rodimus, my other creations!~
This time, the voice resonated throughout the entire fighting complement, many broken and injured by the relentless, mindless violence of the Unmaker's personal shock troops. Obedience came, even for the Decepticons, who swore after that they heard their leader demand it, and the Unmaker was left exposed in from of the now open maw of the temple. The tech-organic being started forward, just before the searing, blinding light of pure energy wrapped around the Unmaker's form.
Jazz had been appalled to find the prisoner was someone whose spark he knew. For half a klik, after a scan showed the damage and rerouting and forced reformat, Jazz considered being merciful to them all, including the one who had been cohort.
Prowl's optics opened in the same instant that a blinding light lit the far side of the city. There was a long, howling scream with a convulsion… and then the changed armor around Prowl's protoform started to fall away, leaving the mech vulnerable… and racked by painful emotions.
Jazz could not do anything other than pull the once stoic strategist into his arms and rock him, letting their fields mingle as each learned Prowl was free at last.
Two became one when one grew strong. Two side always of one ideal, that of survival with growing knowledge. Twisted, lacking balance as the strong one pushed on, a blackness grew and the purpose was lost.
~I never left you~
~I could not listen~
The two voices each found strength, touched by the energies wrought of their own creations. The Maker's Matrix, designed to grant order, and the Unmaker's Allspark, designed to make stronger life with each passing era, were united as their creators had been. Like their creators, they had evolved. Now, joined at last, and understanding that both order and strength could coexist, they forced the pair of ancient explorers to see each other, to know they were never alone… and then the light faded with nothing remaining of either.
With the giant threat eliminated and some of the Unmaker's fleet convulsed by losing their life-supporting armor, both Thundercracker and Blitzwing found clean up to be a matter of lazy picking off.
Only no one could find either Galvatron or his lieutenants in the clean up.
"True-sparked, Seeker-framed threats," Thundercracker growled, once the forces were able to give up their commanders for a meeting. "We'll stay on guard for their return." He just hoped Starscream was the 'we' involved, once that glitch got out of stasis.
"No one's seen Prime, err, Optimus Prime nor Megatron," Powerglide said, flushing a little as he remembered the big warrior that had worked with Bruticus to keep the Unmaker pinned down was also a Prime.
"Where are they?" Kup mused, casting his optics around.
"They're… still around," Rodimus said slowly. "We'll know in time, but there are lots of mechs to help. Ones the Destroyer stole from us who need put back together, our own that are injured, some that were lost and need to be salvaged for their cohorts."
"Or for new frames," Scion managed to make himself say, leaning heavily on a pair of the damaged ones, Powerglide's own people who had long ago learned basic repair to be of use to those who protected them. It was due to his injuries that the meeting of commanders had been handled inside the palace. "The AllSpark was my Lord's obsession. It exists now, and from all he ever taught me, it will produce sparks once again. We must be ready."
"Of course, bitlet," Kup said easily. "So, you're his heir? Guess that means you and Roddy need to get to know each other, then."
There was a nervous burst of static from Powerglide's vocalizer, as Scion tensed. Then, with a slow, cautious movement, Scion offered his hand to Rodimus in the human manner. Rodimus took it, then slid his hand up along Scion's arm to the more familiar mech clasp.
"I've got a deputy protector on Mars, kept Optimus's. You going to pick a deputy prime for Cybertron, until the other two show up?" Rodimus asked easily, ceding all claim on the home-world. Scion's optics flicked to Powerglide immediately, who groaned loudly.
"Oh no you don't!" Powerglide started protesting, amid the soft exchange of glyphs of humor all around them.
First there had been getting to Mars, and having Wheeljack of all people tell him he could not go to Cybertron. And Mikaela had ganged up with Will and Bobby to add that Optimus himself had said that neither Ratchet nor Ironhide were supposed to follow them to Cybertron.
"That was before there was a stable wormhole connecting us!" Ratchet said, snapping out the words and fully taking Ironhide's side.
"With Ultra Magnus gone, we could really use you leading us," Wheeljack tried to reason.
"Earth in direct danger?" Ironhide demanded bluntly.
"No, but…"
Ironhide waved off the protest. "Will, get with Chromia and Metroplex and Bobby if things go wrong. We'll be back." He gripped Ratchet's arm and drug him on through the anomaly, leaving Sol System's defense in the hybridized humans' hands, as well as with the femme he still cared for.
Rodimus skidded to a halt right outside the room where Jazz was watching Prowl in the stasis tank, and Thundercracker was keeping watching on the very slow repair in progress on Starscream's central frame in a different tank. He hated to intrude, but… yeah, there was Scion, overseeing the work of the damaged class as they tended the recovering fighters of both sides. Those mechs made Rodimus's spark ache, but he had watched how much they seemed to understand just when or where a mech in recovery needed lubrication. Scion would tear a mech's digits off for being cruel to one; Rodimus had seen that the first day, when an injured 'Con had made the mistake of threatening one.
"Hey, Sci?"
The short form of the name irritated his new partner, but it also got his attention fast. "Yes, Rodimus?"
"Something's happening at the temple. Blaster called it to me."
Scion gave the caretaker a gentle squeeze on one shoulder and took off… Jazz following as a way to escape his duty to Prowl's broken state.
The moment Ironhide and Ratchet had made it through the anomaly, the Cube had begun to move, shifting its configuration. Sections slid and twisted, moving to expel pieces of itself that were meant for other duties.
Neither medic nor war mech could tear their optics from the sight, completely unprepared for a confrontation with the soul of their species made whole again.
They were still watching the metallic shuffling and new combinations forming when Rodimus Prime led both Jazz and Scion in, and only Ironhide really noted them, much as only Ironhide had seen Blaster in the control pod.
"What's happening?" Rodimus asked, watching the Cube's strange gyrations.
"I don't know; I was clutched by a Prime!" Scion irritably told his partner.
"It's making new mechs," Jazz said, soft and low. "Normally we offered frames to it, but this time… those are frames forming there." He pointed, then noticed his own cohort mates and moved toward them, skirting the aural presence of the AllSpark at work. "Thought you two would miss it all!"
Ironhide smacked Jazz on the back of the helm. "What in the slagging universe were you thinking, running off all alone with Prime? Where is he?"
Jazz shook his helm, rubbing the ding that Ironhide had put there ruefully. "No one knows. Roddy there keeps saying they'll both turn up."
"Both?" Ratchet questioned, optics still fascinated by the immense structure that pulsed with life and energies that promised knowledge beyond everything they already knew.
"Megatron's AWOL too."
"But alive," Scion said fiercely, as he approached, optics flicking from the Cube to the forming frames to the medic that had saved his own existence.
"Looking strong and sturdy, scraplet," Ratchet told the Seeker. "Your final upgrade is sleeker than anything I've ever seen on your class."
Scion preened a little at that. "Powerglide is very artistic when he has reason to be," Scion admitted.
"Umm, guys? It seems to want me to do something!" Rodimus yelped as the Cube came to a stop, the listless steel-gray frames blurred by cocoons of energy surrounding them.
"Idiot," Ironhide muttered, earning him a swipe from Ratchet.
"He's young and inexperienced and Optimus isn't here to teach him. So get over there and dig it out of your rusty banks!" Ratchet told him. Ironhide grumbled a little, but he moved over to stand behind Rodimus.
"Hands up…there's an interface in the field, like a human keyboard," Ironhide told the young Prime, as he did open a set of memories from before his creation as Patronus, from even before his allegiance to only Optimus instead of Megatron, where he had first been pledged.
"Like this…whoa. Yeah…" Rodimus's digits made contact with the offered controls.
"I don't know the creation prompts, but you should. Just…listen to your spark, and follow it." Ironhide set his bulk solidly; this might wipe Rodimus's energy levels out, and that Seeker scraplet wasn't big enough to handle this.
Rodimus concentrated, and felt the warm presence in his spark expand, linking him through the interface with the Cube. Commands, locked in his very code, flowed out to complete the process the AllSpark had begun, and then he started speaking its words.
"Two, always, to protect and nurture, but those two were meant to be held by as many or as few as needed for happiness. The world broke around us, as it broke for our creators when the two grew lost to one another. We give back this pair, to begin the cycle anew and move forward. Our Creators are gone, passed into unity and beyond. The world is mending, and the race will be as one when we cast them to your call. Guard well the peace."
As Rodimus's voice fell away, the pair of frames lit brighter than optics could bear, the glow falling only slowly as Ironhide helped Rodimus to the decking. Ratchet flushed his intakes with ozone-rich atmosphere as he watched the protoforms armor over. One was a deep blue with red glyphs, and the other was a deeply burnished steel gray streaked with faint blue glyphs. As Ratchet watched, the glyphs faded back into nothingness, and the pair of immature creations roused , each reaching on instinct for the other.
"Who are you?" Scion asked, aware that with Rodimus offline briefly, he was the ranking member of their race.
"I am Orion," came familiar tones from one vocalizer.
"And I am Megatronus," the other ground out, pulling his slightly smaller spark-twin closer so that he could protect him better.
"Slag me, I gotta raise them both again?" Ironhide complained in the silence that fell after that.
"You only had the reformat; I know him like this first time around!" Jazz answered softly.
"Yeah, but you were just a bitlet then too!"
Scion ignored the joking and stepped forward, as coding deep inside him prompted. He offered each one a hand, which Orion took trustingly… and Megatronus inspected for a longer klik before doing likewise. "Welcome to your futures," Scion greeted.