Author Note: This has been sitting in my notebook since I first watched Transfomers Dark of the Moon the first time. I apologise for not yet updating the other stories however all of them should be updated by the end of the week. I also have a bunch of other oneshots to update. Please read and review.
The ships were raining down on us, coming from every direction. Each and every building that had once stood tall was collapsing, crumbling in on itself under the heavy fire of the enemy. Mechs crawled through the fallen, twisted metal, limbs torn off and energon gushing from torn energon lines as guns fired, their trajectory marked through the atmosphere by a customary blue or red phosphorus trail.
I myself was in a ship, attempting to get away from Cybertron and save our precious cargo. If we did not succeed then the war would be lost and the Decepticons would rule over all of us. Our once thriving planet would be used as a launching place for their massive fleet, designed to destroy everything in its path and eventually gain full dominance over this universe, if not all universes.
Such a plan could not be allowed to succeed, and so the weight of the future hung heavily over our heads. Each decision made weighing so much more heavily in our sparks.
Somewhere behind me, deeper within our spacecraft, Sentinel Prime sits, waiting for us to leave the vicinity of Cybertron. He is the key to all of this, he will make sure that we will remain free and not become Decepticon slaves.
Something isn't right though, Prime is too calm. With so many of our mechs dying or wounded he should be upset or at the very least a tad bit sorrowful. Instead he looks downright cheerful, as if everything is going to plan, as if our planet isn't dying. It's times like these that I question our leaders true motives. However I can't really do anything about it. Nothing at all really as I'm sure that Sentinel Prime has no qualms about offlining me if I vocalise my thoughts.
The Decepticon fighters are coming closer, the Seekers right behind them to provide backup fire. Even as I notice the closeness of the incoming spacecraft they open up fire. Each laser bullet pierces the weak armour of our ship, trying to find a critical target and it is only a matter of time before something essential is hit.
The mech in front of me, the one manning the gun gets hit and I leap forward to pull him out from behind the gun before taking his position. I knew this mech well; we went to the academy together and were in similar friendship groups. It's so hard to believe that he could be offlined so easily and in such a short period of time. I shed no energon tears even as I take up his position behind the gun.
I've seen so many mechs get offlined before me, their chassis turning grey as darkness claims them right before my optics. I can't clearly remember a time when our planet wasn't engulfed in war and subsequently death. Maybe one day the fighting will stop but I doubt that I'll still be online to witness it. I also doubt that we can bring Cybertron back from the brink of death. The planet's core is extinguishing, slowly but surely.
I don't see why we must continue to fight, neither side gains anything from it. The Decepticons probably expected to have won the war vorns ago, long before such destruction occurred. At least us Autobots held our own, refusing to give in and let the Decepticons take over to try for world domination.
The ships are coming ever closer. Ensuring that the gun is fully loaded I open fire, hoping to bring down the pursuing craft. Every gun on the ship is firing, attempting to hit one of the Decepticon ships or seekers. As hard as we try it isn't likely that we'll ever hit anything. The enemy spacecraft are just so manoeuvrable and fast.
Somewhere behind me a fellow Autobot is preparing to feed some more ammunition into my gun. We didn't have much ammunition in the first place and at this rate we won't have anything left to shoot in less than twenty astroclicks.
Just as the mech starts to load the fresh munitions into my weapon one of the Decepticon Seekers gets a direct hit on one of our engines. Fire rips through all the engines, setting off all of the meagre munitions on board.
A piece of shrapnel from the armour of the ship pierces through my chest armour, missing my spark by only cilimetres. Pain emanates throughout my chassis, pain registering throughout all of my receptors as I am thrown from my position behind the gun.
The ship is picking up speed; the explosion must have pushed us out of Cybertron's weak atmosphere. The world or rather ships starts to spin as we go out of control. I try to hold onto something, anything that will stop me from getting dragged out of the gaping hole in the side of the ship.
The heat within the small ship increases until it is almost unbearable. I am sure my wires are starting to fuse together and my coolant lines are shutting down from the stress. From afar it must look like the vessel is engulfed in flames but it is still only the engines alight.
The spinning never stops, even when I'm on the verge of going into stasis. Instead everything is starting to become more blurred. I can't see any other mechs but my audios detected the distinct sound of the protection chamber opening. With an effort I turn towards the sound and struggle to get my optics working enough to see what activated it. I am astonished to see the hazy outline of a cool, calm and collected Sentinel Prime entering the chamber before sealing himself inside. What kind of leader did that? What did it say about the war?
I had no time to ponder this as the ship came to an abrupt halt, an extremely violent one. I was thrown across the floor space near my long abandoned gun, my helm colliding roughly with the gun's barrel. It seemed as though we had collided with a terrestrial lunar, too bad I wouldn't ever get to see it or its host planet. The strain was finally to much on my systems and I was forced into stasis, never to be woken again.
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