New Developments

A Transformers: Armada Story

By William Rendfeld

Sitting around at breakfast was hardly a bad time for anyone. Being the first meal of the day, it was meant to be quite peaceful and relaxing, to say the least.

Unfortunately, this was not a normal day for Alexis Romanov. The television was on, she and her parents were watching the news over breakfast, just as always. But this time the news was fairly personal, as she'd been there to experience it first-hand.

"Alexis?" her mother asked as she passed the eggs. "If you want this off, we don't..."

"No Mom, it's alright," Alexis replied sternly. "Denying it won't make it go away."

Her father, a somewhat portly man with a well-trimmed beard and a warm expression, smiled proudly and noted, "That's my daughter. The best of two worlds; stubborn like her old father, beautiful like her mother."

"You aren't that old, Dad," Alexis replied.

"Say that when my arthritis isn't acting up, then I will believe you," her father answered. "Still, this is terrible. What's worse is that we could have lost you, child. We're all very lucky that you and your classmates weren't harmed."

"I still say they should have had better security," Alexis's mother noted as she re-settled herself into her seat. "A big event like that, even after it was delayed, still makes for a big target for a terrorist attack like that."

"As I have always said, some things cannot be helped," Alexis's father replied. "All we can do now is count our blessings, pick up the pieces, and do what we can to prevent another event like what happened in Indianapolis."

Assuming we can, Alexis thought to herself as she remembered what had really happened those few days prior.

"Six people, dead," Superintendent Bryson noted as he read over the news reports. "Twenty injured. Buildings destroyed. And hundreds of phone calls, calling on us to do something about all of it." He tossed aside the reports and asked, "What do you have to say to all of this, Miss Masters?"

"I'd say there's very little that can be done," Diana Masters was quick to note. "It's over and done with, and the children are safe and sound here at home."

"That's all well and good," Bryson noted as he got to his feet. "But we've still got hundreds of parents who are calling every two minutes, demanding that their students be taken care of. That they receive compensation for damages. That someone is made responsible for what happened."

Her eyes narrowing slightly, Diana asked, "And where exactly are you going with this?"

The superintendent looked at her and asked, "Tell me, whose idea was it to use the entire field trip budget this year on this trip, hm? Whose idea was it to take the trip in the first place, to go out that far, right to that very place?"

"I had no idea that this was going to happen, and I did everything in my power to make certain the kids were unharmed," Diana retorted. "Without the aid of the chaperones, I might add."

"Do you honestly think that they care enough about that particular detail?" Bryson asked as he rose to his feet. "You've studied history; you know what people want in situations like this."

"A scapegoat?" Diana bitterly asked. "Someone to blame for all the umbrage they've taken? Someone to point a finger at after the chaos is done, even if they aren't responsible?"

"Smart, Miss Masters," Bryson replied. "That's exactly what they want, and it will either be you or me."

"Well, it isn't going to be me," she declared. "I quit. You want to speak to me again, contact my lawyer."

Diana turned on her heel and began walking out, only to have Bryson call out, "You put those children in danger, Masters! You'll never work as a teacher again!"

"I wasn't the one blowing up buildings, or tearing apart a racetrack, or inciting panic," Diana replied. "I was making certain those kids kept calm, and got out of harm's way. I'll take credit for doing my job; not someone else's."

With those words, she quietly left the office.

"They're ready for you sir."

"Thank you," Colonel Michael Franklin noted as he nervously straightened his uniform. The secretary opened the door for him, and he entered.

Waiting for him inside were two people; one familiar, one not. The unfamiliar one was a young woman, early thirties at oldest, her chestnut hair carefully held in a bun, her black suit and skirt giving her an air of authority despite her youth. The more familiar one was a tall man with golden hair tinged with gray at the temples, his uniform denoting him as a brigadier general in the Army and his black name badge marked "Abernathy".

"Colonel, welcome," General Abernathy said in greeting. "I hope the flight over wasn't too much trouble."

"Considering it was either a trip to Washington or a court-martial, I think I was better off coming, General," Franklin replied.

"Good for both of us that you did," General Abernathy replied. He indicated the suited woman and noted, "This is Agent Eileen Graves with the NSA; she's our new liaison."

"Colonel," Agent Graves greeted him curtly.

"With all due respect sir, I'm a little surprised that I was called in of all people," Franklin replied as the three sat down. "I'm not even certain why I was called in; I just came."

"Unfortunately, we couldn't give you the full information until you arrived," General Abernathy replied. "But by the end of this meeting, we should take care of your concerns. I'm assuming you're aware of what recently happened in Indianapolis?"

"It's hard not to be, considering what's appeared on the news," Colonel Franklin replied. "A serious terrorist attack on a major sporting event, six people dead, twenty wounded, several hundred thousand dollars in property damage. We're lucky it wasn't worse."

"We're also lucky that cover story is still holding," Agent Graves noted. As Franklin looked to her in surprise, she explained, "That wasn't a terrorist attack, Colonel. No one has taken credit for it, and it was sloppy in comparison; most attacks would hit places of major importance, with small devices and seemingly at random. These attacks were made with artillery fire at a distance, at worst with weapons that we've only begun to theorize about. That, combined with eyewitness reports and satellite imaging, shows that we aren't dealing with another London bombing or September 11." She handed him a file, and as Franklin reviewed its contents, she continued, "Those images were taken the night of the attacks, and digitally enhanced. We noticed seven large anomalous objects in the area that was attacked, two airborne, resembling aircraft and five ground-based. Radar confirmed the presence of the two airborne objects, and all of them were seen by numerous eyewitnesses, many of whom we've convinced to keep quiet. But three of them, ones actually within the city, were described as giant humanoid robots."

"That's...impossible," Franklin noted, trying his best to hide his surprise.

"Not as impossible as you'd think," Graves continued. "We examined the wreckage left from the attack; most of it was caused by conventional artillery, more powerful than anything we currently have, but within the realm of believability. But the rest of the damage appears to have been caused by some sort of high-powered, potentially plasma-based weapon; places where it struck were cut through with high heat and intensity. And we've had a dozen people come forward so far to report seeing these things, all consistent; one large one with green and purple armor, horns and a massive cannon, and two smaller ones, one blue and silver, the other red and bright yellow. The two smaller machines were joined by several other small machines, two of which connected to the larger units, another three combining together to form a large shield of sorts which absorbed attacks from the larger machine."

"But how could they have gotten into the city?" Franklin asked. "And how did they get out again?"

"Some reports say that the two smaller machines shifted forms from sports cars into the larger forms, the larger one converting from a tank of some kind," Graves reported. "As for how they left, the witnesses report seeing the larger unit seem to fade out of the air, the others following suit soon afterwards."

"They were clearly there for something," Franklin was quick to note.

"We believe we found it," Abernathy replied. "A large pod-like unit was unearthed near the Speedway during the excavation of the wreckage. It's already been sent to Area 51 for study, but we haven't been able to begin a proper analysis. All we know at this point is that it was holding something, apparently six somethings, and that those six emerged from the pod. There was a control console of some sort, but we couldn't read it or even operate it. It seems safe to say that these robots were there looking for what was inside that pod, and that they found what they were looking for."

"Which may explain why they left," Graves noted. "But it doesn't explain where these things came from, or what they are, or how they got there. Or any of the other similar sightings." She motioned to the folder and noted, "On Friday, September 9, around 4:12 PM, radio and television signals throughout the state of Oregon were distorted. Two days later, several people in Portland reported seeing a large military helicopter chasing three children, and later report the same craft chasing an SUV out of town. The same day, several troops on a base in New Mexico reported seeing an odd aircraft traveling at high speeds close to the ground, just below radar range. Similar robots were sighted at Sherman Dam the following Saturday, and another group, some with similar descriptions, at a base undergoing renovations in Iowa."

"Couldn't this be some mass hallucination?" Franklin asked.

"If it is, it's a damn consistent one," Graves replied. "And that brings us to you."

"Colonel Franklin, you're one of the best that the Air Force Intelligence has to offer," Abernathy replied. "You've seen action in Europe, the Middle East, Central America. Your recent service in Afghanistan is only a sampling of what you can do. You've probably done more behind the scenes to save lives than anyone else, and you get results. We need you to find out the details concerning these things, and evaluate if they're a threat."

"The SUV being chased was owned by one Diana Masters, a school teacher working for Portland Public Schools," Graves replied. "Chances are poor that she knows anything, but she's the best lead we have."

"We have a plane ready to take you to Portland as soon as you're ready to leave," Abernathy noted. "Just make sure you come back with some information, is that clear?"

"Understood, sir," Franklin replied.

Jetfire hated dealing with politics. He was a soldier, a fighter. He could relate to others face to face, give orders when needed, but he wasn't the type to negotiate something with those who didn't understand the plight of a fighter, and were more concerned with their own affairs than what mattered.

Sadly, it never seemed to be quite the case.

"Jetfire," said the head of the council, his presence looming over the large Transformer from his position in the stands. "You have called for a meeting with the High Council, to discuss recent developments. We have little time. Voice your concerns."

"Esteemed members of the Council," Jetfire began. "In recent cycles, we have rediscovered the location of the Mini-Cons. A team of Autobots, led by Optimus Prime himself, have arrived on Earth in an effort to safely find them and bring them home. However, this effort has not gone smoothly; a small unit of rogue Decepticons, led by Megatron, has arrived on Earth, and has made several attempts to capture the Mini-Cons on Earth. Based on recent mission reports, we have grave fears concerning the success of this effort. I ask for greater resources for the mission to Earth."

Murmurings rose up from the council. At last, the chairman turned to another guest and asked, "Lord Straxus, as political leader for the Decepticons, I'm assuming you are keeping yourself aware of these events?"

"Yes, Councilor," Lord Straxus, a large, regal-looking Decepticon explained. "One of our spies was among those who Megatron took with him to Earth. Unfortunately, contact has been sporadic. I'm afraid that Jetfire may well have a better idea of what is going on than I."

Jetfire's optics narrowed in annoyance, thinking about how ineffective a leader Straxus had been to the Decepticon faction in recent times, the situation with Megatron being only one example.

"Be that as it may, we have no evidence to directly support the retrieval of the Mini-Cons," the council head noted. "They chose to leave Cybertron, to escape Megatron. The fact that he followed them is unfortunate, but we must not force ourselves to act as he himself did. It is not our place to dictate the lives of our people."

"But it is my place to relay the findings of a higher power," a familiar voice rumbled.

The council began murmuring in surprise as, quite unexpectedly, the doors to the Council Chambers opened, and Vector Prime slowly entered, taking a place alongside Jetfire. "Vector Prime..." the council leader noted. "This is a most...unexpected development. You rarely attend council."

"I feel that this is one which I must attend," Vector Prime noted as he looked up towards the assembly. "Otherwise, we may face the darkest of days ahead. As all Cybertronians know, deep within our sparks, Primus gave us life. The Quintessons may have used this world for their purposes, created our shells and our substance, but it was Primus which gave us our Sparks, those things which separate us from simple machines. Autobots, Decepticons and Mini-Cons, since we received life, have been separate from one another, fractured by time, space, and the actions of few towards many. We must be reunited, our race forged together, in order to combat our true threat."

"You...don't honestly speak of...the Dark God, do you?" another member of the council asked.

"Yes," Vector Prime replied. "As one of the first Transformers to have been given life by Primus, one of the first to have been forged of Cybertron itself, I can safely say this. Unicron is real. He is coming. And we must be ready."

"Two Mini-Cons on the last retrieval," Megatron noted. "Two captured Mini-Cons, and another four slipping through our grasp." He turned to face his lieutenant, then said, "I am not a patient Transformer, Starscream, and the Autobots now have access to one of the Core Weapons. Our tactical position is slipping. Contact Cybertron; we require reinforcements, no matter what our situation."

"Understood, Megatron," Starscream replied. The red Decepticon quickly exited Megatron's chamber, letting the door slide shut behind him. Waiting for him were Demolishor, Blackout, and Swindle. "He's not happy."

"Not surprising," Swindle cracked. "He's not getting what he wants."

"Some shouldn't get what they want," Blackout dryly noted. "Megatron included, especially when it's us."

"Just be grateful that you Mini-Cons are the only thing that's attracting his attention on Earth," Starscream replied.

"Those reinforcements Megatron asked for," Demolishor asked. "Are they going to be a problem?"

"Depends on who I call in," Starscream noted with a smirk.

"Di, you shouldn't do this," Kelly Bongartner noted to her friend as she continued packing. "I mean, just up and quit? You should fight this."

"And have it turned into a media circus?" Diana countered. "You know how your industry works, Kelly. Besides, suing is well beyond my means. Quitting was the easiest option."

"It won't stop anything else from happening," Kelly quickly noted. "Think about it; the instant the system announces that you've quit, the media will be hounding your doorstep as much as they're hounding the school's. Most of us, anyway."

Diana looked to her friend, then asked, "Care to elaborate?"

"I know you, and I trust you," Kelly replied. "I'd rather expose the snake that forced you to quit than drag your name through the mud. Besides, it's the better story."

Diana gave a light smirk, then replied, "Always looking out for your interests, huh?"

"A girl's gotta have her priorities," Kelly retorted. "Anyway, just be careful, alright? They might not know you over in Seattle, but they'll find out a few things pretty quick with the right research."

"I won't argue there," Diana replied. "And thanks for the support. It means a lot."

"It's no trouble," Kelly assured her. She moved towards the door, and said, "And make sure that cat of yours doesn't go postal on anyone."

"This little thing?" Diana asked as the cat in question, an orange-striped cat named Abby, played roughly with a large ball.

As Kelly smiled and let herself out, Diana set down the small clay pot that she'd been carefully packing and scooped Abby up in her arms. "At least you can't be taken away from me, huh Abby?"

Abby purred in slight contentment, looking up at her person expectantly.

"Yeah, just make sure you're fed, and you'll stay," Diana noted. She walked over to her small kitchenette and set Abby on the counter, then brought the small cat her food. As Abby began eating up her meal, a light knock came from the door. Diana moved to answer, and swiftly opened it.

"Good afternoon, Miss Masters," the tall man said in greeting, his black suit crisp. "May I come in?"

Diana have him a critical look, then said, "I normally don't allow strangers into my apartment."

"Then let's rectify that," he replied as he pulled out his wallet. As his ID came into the light, he identified himself, "Colonel Franklin, United States Air Force. Now that we aren't strangers anymore, may I come in?"

Diana looked at him in surprise, then motioned him in. "Have a seat," she said as Franklin entered. She closed the door behind her and asked, "I doubt you're here on behalf of the Internal Revenue Service."

"I'm not," Franklin explained as he pulled an envelope from inside his suit. "I've been assigned to clarify a few details concerning the recent incident in Indianapolis."

"Despite what my former employers would have you believe, I have absolutely no connection to the terrorist attack there other than coincidence," Diana quickly noted.

"Your former employers aside, we both know that wasn't a terrorist attack," Franklin noted in a grave voice. He pulled a set of photos from the envelope, tossed them down upon a coffee table, and continued, "We have satellite images of seven large mechanoids in the Indianapolis area the night of the attacks, and some of the damage caused is impossible by human technology. We also know that a 2002 Ford Explorer owned and licensed to you was chased by a large military helicopter several weeks ago, and that a similar vehicle was sighted at a military base in Iowa some time afterwards." As Diana gave the photos a critical eye, he quickly noted, "We also know where these things are and plan on dealing with them. Permanently."

Diana looked at him in surprise and said, "You can't do that, Hot Shot and Blurr were..." She caught herself in time, then remarked, "You're bluffing."

Franklin smiled. "I was, yes. But unless I convince my superiors that they shouldn't hunt these things down, they will. Now I'm assuming by your recent outburst that you know of some of these things, and that you think they aren't all threatening?"

Diana looked to the man before her somewhat nervously, then said, "Yes." She walked over to her computer and said, "I know some of them aren't threatening because I've met them, spoken with them. The ones that attacked Indianapolis were threatening, yes, but they aren't here to invade. To them, what happens to us is incidental." She found a blue compact disc and said, "The ones that attacked are called Decepticons, the ones who fought them were Autobots. They're alien robots, called Transformers, from a planet called Cybertron. They're here looking for a third race, called Mini-Cons; they're about human-sized, compared to their much larger cousins. They came a few weeks ago upon receiving a signal from a Mini-Con pod."

"That may explain the distortion of various radio signals," Franklin replied. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Everything I have is on this disc," Diana replied as she handed it to him. "My question is, why do you want to know? Usually the military tends to destroy anything that's seen as a threat, once they have fair cause."

"While that attack could count as fair cause, I'd rather not have to fight something with weaponry I can't defend against," Col. Franklin replied. "At the same time, if what you said is true, then we have a chance at full-fledged first contact with an extraterrestrial civilization, and I've seen enough science fiction to know the consequences of that going wrong." He rose to his feet, and quietly admitted, "Besides, I have my own personal reasons for not wanting to see a fight with these Transformers of yours."

"Why is that?" Diana asked.

"I may owe my life to one of them," Franklin replied as he moved towards the door. He stopped for one second to scratch Abby behind the ears, and said, "Good day, Miss Masters. I hope this information proves helpful, for all our sakes," before he left.

"Vector Prime," the council leader noted, "What you have said is true; the Mini-Cons are indeed the long lost brethren. And if, as you believe, the Chaos Bringer is indeed rising, then we will need everything that we can muster against him. As you are the oldest of us still on Cybertron, then you would hardly be considered false." He turned to Jetfire and said, "Council vote; the allocation of resources to Earth based on the projected needs of Optimus Prime. All against?"

The hall remained silent.

"All for?"

Small chimes rang out, like the light bang of a gong, throughout the chamber.

"The vote is unanimous," the council leader declared. "Jetfire, you may contact Optimus Prime and inform him that any resources he asks for, we shall provide."

"Thank you, Councilor Leviticus," Jetfire replied with a bow.

"Council is adjourned," Leviticus declared.

Jetfire and Vector Prime both turned to leave as the council members began to speak amongst themselves. "My thanks, Vector Prime. I doubt I would have convinced them otherwise."

"There are things in motion, Jetfire," Vector Prime assured his young associate. "Things which threaten all of Cybertron, perhaps all of the universe. I cannot stand idle. Now, however, we have another concern. Please, come with me."

With those words, Vector Prime converted to his vehicle mode and flew off. Jetfire transformed and followed.

"With the recent attack on Indianapolis and the recovery of the Race Team, it's clear that what we've feared for a long time is beginning to arise," Optimus Prime noted to the assembled members of the Autobot team, their affiliated Mini-Cons, and their younger human allies. "The war is escalating."

"Not to argue or anything," Rad interjected, "but why would the recovery of another Mini-Con team be so important? I mean, there are hundreds of them, right?"

"Not exactly," Sparkplug was quick to explain. "Mini-Cons are much smaller than larger Transformers, and thus much harder to construct or repair. Between that and the fact that many of us were destroyed during the Great Wars, there are very few Mini-Cons in existence. Besides that, the Race Team forms one of the Core Weapons, and any side that has one of them is far more powerful than the other."

Noticing the surprised look on the faces of the three children, Red Alert went on to explain, "The Core Weapons were developed during the War for Independence. Each one consists of a team of three Mini-Cons combined into one whole piece of equipment; in the case of the Race Team, they form the Skyboom Shield, the ultimate defensive weapon."

"When we're combined and wielded by a larger Transformer, we can absorb or deflect all forms of energy directed towards us," Mirage explained further, "including from other core weapons. And there are others; the Star Saber, the Energon Saber, the Requiem Blaster, and the Magnawing Shield."

"So if one side has one of these weapons, they've got a big advantage over the other?" Carlos reasoned. "That's why there's a problem?"

"Exactly," Optimus explained. "Now that the Race Team is with us, it means that the Skyboom Shield is, for the moment, outside of Megatron's reach. He'll do everything in his power to obtain the other weapons, and he's already demonstrated a distinct disinterest in what happens to the human population."

"But you guys can stop them, right?" Rad asked. "I mean, with the shield..."

"The Skyboom Shield can only protect the wielder," Mirage explained. "And even it has its limits."

"But even so, we'll do all we can to stop further devastation," Optimus promised.

"That's something we'll hold you to, Optimus," Diana noted as she entered the room, Perceptor escorting her. "Sorry I'm late, everyone; I had some packing to do."

"Packing?" Rad asked. "Miss Masters?"

"As of noon tomorrow, I'm no longer your teacher," Diana explained. "I officially resigned this morning."

"You're quitting?" Rad asked in surprise.

"I don't have much choice, kids," Diana quickly pointed out. "The school system's been receiving calls left and right after the attack. Doesn't matter that you kids were safe or that there was little or no panic, just that you were threatened. And the superintendent is more interested in protecting his own butt and shunting the blame over to someone else than in dealing with the problem."

"But why...?" Rad asked for a short second.

"They want a scapegoat," Alexis realized aloud. "If anyone was going to take the blame for what happened, it'd be the one who organized the trip in the first place."

"They can't do that!" Rad quickly declared.

"They can, and they're trying to," Diana replied. "That's why I quit. Until the Decepticons are formally exposed to the general population, no one else will be there to take the blame. And even then, someone will still lay some blame on me, or at least try to." Turning to the command Autobot, she added, "By the way, Optimus, can this ship move?"

"It's dangerous to move it, but not impossible," Optimus replied. "Why?"

Diana took a breath, then admitted, "Because I've gone and blown your cover."

"Are you certain her information is accurate?" General Abernathy asked of his subordinate.

"Positive," Colonel Franklin replied from a secure room at the Portland International Airport. "I know liars when I see them, General. She was telling the truth. And between her actions and the information I just sent you, I'm willing to believe her."

"Then we may well be walking a fine line," Abernathy replied. "Colonel, I'm going to contact the Commander-in-Chief. If this information is correct, then we're on the cusp of an actual first contact with an alien race, one with technology advanced enough that we can only pray that these 'Autobots' are really the good guys."

The line was cut off, leaving Franklin to his thoughts.

"Wait a second," Hot Shot realized aloud. "You mean your government's been keeping track of us? They know we're here?"

"Not a surprising revelation," Scavenger noted. "The signal put out by the Mini-Con pods, the three battles with the Decepticons, the fact that they haven't shown much interest in stealth. It was a matter of time before we had to come out of the shadows."

"But why go to you?" Carlos asked. "I mean, how could they know you had a connection to all this? Why not us?"

"It was my car Cyclonus was chasing," Diana admitted. "You may have been the target, but you were riding it and I own it. That and the fact that I was in the area of the most recent attack made it look too much like a coincidence. But he was the first to admit, it was a long shot."

"Then what's going to happen now?" Rad asked. "I mean, are they going to attack or something?"

"I don't think so," Diana replied. "Despite the recent thoughts of many, the United States military tends to operate with a sense of honor. They noticed that Hot Shot and Blurr were holding off the Decepticons, and that they were distracting them from causing further collateral damage. They won't attack unless they feel they have to."

"Nevertheless, we'll leave the area if we have to," Optimus decided. "This ship was built to withstand incredible amounts of external pressure. It's risky, but we can move and hide, at least for a little while longer. But I won't take that option unless we have no other choice."

"And here's hoping we don't have to take that option," Diana noted. "For all our sakes."

"Is this, what I think it is?" Jetfire asked as he and Vector Prime entered an immense chamber.

"Yes," Vector Prime replied. "The Well of All Sparks."

The chamber was large, easily the size of a small stadium. Its grey, nondescript walls gave off a sense of age and mystery, yet seemed familiar to Jetfire deep within his spark. Before and below them laid a pit, four separate sets of stairs leading to a square-shaped indent in the very center. Above them, pointing outwards from a central point, were four long platforms, evidently made as structural support but each marked with an individual symbol.

"As you are well aware, I am the eldest Transformer currently on Cybertron," Vector Prime recounted as he and Jetfire descended into the pit. "But I am not the eldest Transformer. I was one of thirteen given life by Primus, in order to maximize his defensive ability while he rested."

"Thirteen?" Jetfire asked in astonishment. "What happened to the other twelve?"

"Some have fallen, to darkness and death," Vector Prime solemnly noted. "The rest left Cybertron, to hide away the greatest threats to the Chaos Bringer until they are needed again." He turned to Jetfire as he finished his descent, and declared, "They will be needed, soon."

"What are they?" Jetfire asked.

"Seven artifacts were given to seven of the thirteen, each with unique traits and abilities," Vector Prime continued. "Of those seven, one remains on Cybertron." He withdrew a long, emerald blade, and explained, "This is one, the ChronoSaber. It was entrusted to me, and allows me power over time and space. But for the task that awaits it, as a weapon against Unicron, it is useless without the other six. Two others were entrusted to me when their Guardians passed into shadow; one I know the precise location of, the other an educated guess. The other four are lost, distant, well outside my view."

"What are these other artifacts, Vector Prime?" Jetfire replied.

"The four are Keys, each representing unique traits which all Transformers have in certain qualities," Vector Prime explained. He pointed to an emblem above them, resembling a sun rising over a planet, and said, "The Key of Wisdom, representing Intelligence and Skill." He pointed to another, resembling a claw, and said, "The Key of Power, representing Strength and Firepower." Another was pointed out, resembling a stylized arrowhead, and said, "The Key of Velocity, representing Speed and Endurance." The fourth, resembling two gears of unequal size melded together, was declared, "The Key of Unity, representing Courage and Rank. They have been scattered to the solar winds, hidden away on distant worlds so that agents of the Chaos Bringer may not find them." He turned back to Jetfire and said, "These four keys are meant to combine with an artifact called the Omega Lock, which was left in my care. It has been hidden away elsewhere. The last artifact I entrusted to one whom we both know, and he has used it wisely to lead our people."

"The Matrix?" Jetfire asked. "It's one of the artifacts?"

"Yes," Vector Prime explained. "Its power is such that it can injure the Dark God, or destroy those who serve him. With the ChronoSaber, locked into Vector Sigma, it would allow the power of our Creator to flow through Cybertron and be unleashed against his eternal foe. But this is dependant upon the Omega Lock and the four keys for proper distribution, otherwise Cybertron would tear itself apart from the inside out."

"Then the Lock and keys are needed if we plan on fighting Unicron," Jetfire replied. "Fine. You don't know where the Keys are. Can you find out?"

"It's possible, with the aid of the Omega Lock," Vector Prime explained. "But it has also been hidden away, by me. Which brings me to a greater reason for why the Mini-Cons must be found."

Jetfire remained silent, hoping for an explanation.

"You remember, of course, that I took on a partner during the War of Independence?" Vector Prime asked. "Safeguard was my lone confidant, and my closest friend. When he left Cybertron with the others, he took with him what I hoped was safest with the Mini-Cons, hidden away where they hoped to escape. He took with him the Omega Lock."

"Then the Lock is on Earth?" Jetfire asked. "Onboard the Mini-Con ship?"

"Yes," Vector Prime replied. "And we must find it before Megatron learns of its existence, before he claims it for his own use. Otherwise, Unicron will not be the only great darkness we may yet face."

When he was a child, Michael Franklin was saved by something. He didn't know what it was, or how it saved him, only that it did, and that it was large, and it shifted forms as it left, as his family came to find him. For the longest time, he thought it a dream, a hallucination. His mother told him that God had saved him, that an angel had scooped him out of death's maw. It had what looked like wings, yes, but since when did angels change into something else? And why save him?

Now, it looked like he had some answers. One of these Transformers may have been the one who saved him as a child, simply because it was the right thing to do. Now he would find out the truth, or at least be closer to finding it.

"Sir?" the corporal driving the armored car asked. "Are you sure we're in the right area?"

"Positive," Franklin replied.

As if responding to his words, something ahead of them shimmered into view. First, it seemed as if nothing was there, nestled in the mountains next to Mt. Saint Hilary. Then, it appeared; an immense, golden ship, larger than most aircraft, with landing struts resting on the ground and a long ramp leading down from the ship's front.

"Stop the car," Franklin ordered.

Only three vehicles had come, between the fact that few military bases were in Oregon and they hoped to negotiate with these beings rather than fight them. An open hand was more receptive than one with a gun, after all. As his car and the others stopped, Franklin exited, and walked forward. A few troops, light weapons in their hands, walked forwards with him, staying slightly back.

Within a few seconds of their arrival, a large form, accompanied by two smaller ones, emerged from the ship; two Transformers, one human. The human was Diana Masters; obviously she'd told them since yesterday. So much the wiser. The two Transformers were both very different from one another; one was small, yellow and crème-colored, a Mini-Con named Sparkplug according to the information he'd been given. The other was large, with red and blue armor, his face covered by a gray plate beneath the eyes and 'nose'. That was the one he hoped to see most; Optimus Prime.

"Optimus Prime," Franklin began, addressing the large robot as he stepped forward. "My name is Michael Franklin, Colonel, and I've come on behalf of the United States government. We've known about your presence here for some time."

"We've come to realize that," Optimus Prime replied. "I assure you now, Colonel Franklin, we mean no harm to this planet, or any of the life forms or nations existing upon it. We're simply here to locate the Mini-Cons, that's all."

"I realize that," Franklin replied. "As do my superiors." He turned to Diana and said, "Thanks to the information you've provided, Miss Masters." He turned back to Optimus and said, "On behalf of my superiors, including the President of the United States, I've come to offer an alliance. Based on what little I know, you need resources; energy, construction materials, reconnaissance."

"Alliances tend to work both ways, Colonel," Sparkplug was quick to note. "What do you want in return?"

"Whatever you can give," Franklin replied. "Your race has existed for millions of years longer than ours, and you've walked among the stars. I'm certain we can find something to constitute a fair trade, something that works for both parties."

Optimus Prime looked down towards the small human before him, and then carefully knelt on one knee so as to be closer to eye level. "I'd like that. We can schedule negotiations immediately." He extended an arm, his forefinger almost fully extended, and said, "I hope this is a good beginning."

Franklin extended his arm, and clasped the fingertip. "As do I. For both our peoples."

From a distance, someone watched. "Interesting. Most interesting."

The End