2009

It was a moon orbiting some gas giant on the edge of charted space – it had no name, just a series of numbers and letters for a designation. It had an atmosphere hospitable to carbon-based life, and even a primitive ecosystem.

For Onslaught, leader of the Combaticons, it was small comfort to have atmosphere and decent gravity as he, the other Combaticons, and the Stunticons milled about this Primus-forsaken moon, trying to figure out the vague orders Galvatron had given them concerning 'fighting back against those Autobots!' Although those orders had come between several long strings of ranting, raving and firing off his arm cannon at the ceiling, floor, walls and any Decepticon within range.

Onslaught silently observed Wildrider and Drag Strip as they started punching each other. The two teammates tackled each other to the ground and rolled around, the clang of their punches echoing. Motormaster soon walked over, grabbed them and pulled them apart, flinging Drag Strip a few dozen meters away.

A brown-plated shuttle orbiter flew down towards Onslaught. It slowed to a stop before the Combaticon leader and transformed into Blast Off. "Satellite's in orbit," he reported. "If anything unexpected arrives, we'll know." He looked to the Stunticons and sighed. "Did I have to come down from orbit to make this report?"

Onslaught's optic band dimmed slightly. "I wish I could've joined you up there," he finally admitted. "Excellent work."

Blast Off tilted his head at the praise. "Well... of course! Who else could place that satellite into orbit as an early-warning system as well as I?"

Onslaught remained silent as Vortex and Brawl approached. For the thousandth time, he replayed Swindle leaving for Starscream's faction. For the thousandth time, he wondered what on Primus made him stay with the increasingly-unhinged Galvatron.

Blast Off's head suddenly shot up. He touched a panel on his right temple. "Wait a cycle, we got incoming!"

Brawl raised his fists. "I don't recall us having any resupply runs scheduled this early. Or any at all, now that I think about it!"

Onslaught ignored the others and focused on Blast Off. "What's happening up there, Blast Off? What's going on?"

Blast Off's optic sensors suddenly brightened. "Oh, oh slag. Oh slagging slag to dross and back to ingots." He looked up at Onslaught, then to Vortex, and finally to Brawl. "Is it too late to go to Starscream's faction?"

Vortex stepped forward. He pointed the cannons mounted on his forearms at Blast Off's head. "Talk, while your vocal processor's still functional!"

Blast Off shoved his arms away. "Process this, Vortex. The satellite's reporting thirty-one ships entering into orbit right above us. Fifteen are human ships and the rest are all Autobot, including a Vanguard-class interceptor." At Brawl's blank stare, he sighed. "The same kind of ship as the Ark, you empty."

Onslaught's head shot up and he scanned the still-empty sky. "Well, it doesn't take my fine tactical acumen to realize we're knee-deep in some serious sludge." He looked down at the Stunticons as they continued fighting amongst themselves. "And I have a feeling we won't be able to count on anyone else for help."

On the opposite side of the planet from the moon, the void of space rippled and twisted. It spun around, forming into a vortex. From this end of a transwarp tunnel, sixteen starships from the Autobot's rapidly-expanding space navy emerged. Fifteen of them were somewhat boxy and silvery, studded with weapon mounts and sensors. The lead ship, known as the Rough and Ready, was a comparatively-sleek golden arrowhead a little over a kilometer long. It once carried refugees away from Cybertron during the Great War. After the possibly final exile of the Decepticons from Cybertron in 2006, it returned, bringing a delegation from a now-thriving colony world to make contact with the new government.

Another transwarp vortex opened behind the Autobot fleet. Fifteen ships from the Earth Defense Command's fleet emerged. Most of them were smaller and had less armaments than their Autobot counterparts. The lead ship, though, the ESS Enterprise, was nearly a kilometer long and bristled like a porcupine with gun turrets and missile launchers. Somewhat more square than the Rough and Ready, she still cut the same general outline of an arrowhead, with a massive energon-powered cannon built into the bow.

On the bridge of the Rough and Ready sat Impactor, leader of the assault team known as the Wreckers and part of the new Autobot Council. He stared at the main viewscreen and a map of the gas giant projected onto it. He stood up and walked up to it. "Okay, what do we got?"

Broadside looked up and over from the conn. "Looks like the Combaticons and Stunticons got caught a bit too far from Chaar. We're reading them on the moon, just like Sandstorm reported from his scouting run."

Impactor nodded. He glanced to the Bulkhead, standing at one of the aft stations. "Contact the Enterprise and tell them and the other EDC ships to have their drop ships on hot standby, but not to launch." He held up a hand. "And make sure it's clear that I don't want it to get too crowded down there. They'll be plenty helpful making sure none of them make it off that rock."

Bulkhead barked a laugh. "Not sure they'll believe that, but okay."

Impactor vented some gas and looked back to the main screen. It had changed to an overhead map of the Decepticon's general location. They were split into two groups, with four of them moving rapidly away from the others. "The latest reports were Swindle defected to Starscream's faction. I wonder why the others didn't go too."

One of the aft doors opened and Grimlock walked out, optic band a blazing red. He stomped over to Impactor. "Why we waiting? We know Decepticons down there. Time to munch metal and kick skidplate!"

Impactor turned to face him and jabbed his hook-hand right at Grimlock's chest. "You know, you could wait until we enter orbit before complaining about anything, Grimlock."

Broadside spoke up. "Now entering orbit above their general location, Impactor. Looks like they've got a spy satellite in orbit, too."

Impactor rubbed his forehead. "Contact the Enteprise and ask them to shoot it out of orbit." He motioned to Grimlock, then to the main viewscreen. "Okay, big guy."

Grimlock raised his right hand and clenched it into a fist. Electricity crackled from knuckle to knuckle. "Good. Been too long since a good fight. Now we do what we do best. Me, Grimlock, ready to munch metal!"

Impactor's optics narrowed. "If those 'Cons want a fight, we'll give it to them and then some. We won't sink to their level, though. If any of them surrender, we'll keep our guard up but our guns down."

Grimlock shook his head. "You soft, like Prime. Me Grimlock do what necessary." He thumped his chest, turned and began to stalk off.

Impactor grabbed Grimlock by the shoulder and, with some effort, spun him back around. "If you can't behave like an Autobot, or at least not like a Decepticon, then I've got a nice room you can cool your exhaust in. So right now, are you gonna play ball?"

Grimlock stared at Impactor, who returned the glare. After a few moments, the Dinobot leader shrugged his arm out of Impactor's grip and stalked off.

Bulkhead looked up from his station. "I'd say that went about as well as could be expected."

Impactor paid the jibe no mind. "Get the assault shuttles loaded. I'll be down to the shuttlebay in a few minutes. It's time for us Wreckers to do what we do best."

Onslaught marched forward, his teammates close behind. Vortex turned and looked to the Stunticons over his shoulder. "Onslaught, shouldn't we tell Motormaster and the others about the Autobots in orbit?'

Onslaught paused in his strides and looked down at Vortex. "No, for two reasons. The first is, they'll most likely engage any Autobot forces in combat and be blown to metal filings in the process. I don't want to be caught in the crossfire." With that, he resumed marching forward.

"And the second?"

There was a pause in Onslaught's strides, and his face mask bobbed up and down. "I really hate those idiots, and wouldn't mind them being offlined, as long as we don't suffer the same fate."

Blast Off suddenly stopped and his head jerked up. "The satellite just got blown up. Last image it sent was a half-dozen shuttles being launched."

Brawl turned to him. "And where are they headed, exactly?"

The sounds of engines could be heard, quickly rising in volume. The Stunticons stopped their fighting and slowly looked up as six Autobot shuttles flying in an arrowhead formation flew overhead. They split off from each other, circling around the Decepticons before landing in a loose circle around the two groups. Landing ramps opened up and a dozen or so Autobots emerged from each shuttle, several transforming into flight-capable alternate modes and taking to the sky. The rest surrounded the Decepticons, weapons drawn and pointed right at them.

Impactor strode forth, his shoulder-mounted tank cannon swiveling about. Bulkhead and Roadbuster flanked him, their own various weapons at the ready. "Decepticons, you are surrounded! Surrender, or be destroyed!"

The Combaticons huddled together, each one forming a point on a compass. Brawl hefted his electron gun. "Got a plan for this, Onslaught? We're all audio receptors for anything your hard drive's processing!"

Onslaught's head tilted up as he stared off into the sky and the warships he knew were in orbit above their heads. "We are in a battle we cannot win, in a trap we can't escape from. Sheer numbers alone will spell our demise if we try and fight. Without Swindle, we cannot properly form Bruticus. And even if we could, it would merely mean we'd die at once instead of being picked off one by one."

Vortex glanced behind his right shoulder at Onslaught. "So, we're just gonna surrender?"

Onslaught turned around, grabbed Vortex by the shoulder and spun him around to face him. "And do you have any better ideas, Vortex?"

Any response was cut off as Motormaster raised his atom-smasher rifle. "Do you really think the true king of the road is gonna surrender to one of Prime's lackeys?" He fired a long burst from his rifle and swept it from side to side, sending most of the Autobots scattering and managing to hit several of them. "Come on, you rejects from a demolition derby," he shouted to his teammates, "get the lead out!"

Grimlock charged forward from one of the shuttles, transforming into Tyrannosaurus Rex mode in mid-run. Motormaster turned and concentrated on him, but the blasts did little to the Dinobot's heavy armor plating. Motormaster held out his free hand and summoned his sword from his subspace pocket, but Grimlock was upon him.

Motormaster raised his sword up, but Grimlock swung about with speed belied by his size and swatted Motormaster with his tail, knocking his sword and atom-smasher rifle out of his hands. Grimlock continued to rotate around until he was once more face-to-face with the Stunticon commander. He roared, opening his jaw as wide as possible before sinking his razor-sharp teeth into Motormaster's left shoulder and biting down as hard as he could.

The sound of tearing and rending metal sounded out. Motormaster's vocoder shorted out and he let out squeals and static laced with pain. Grimlock pulled back, ripping Motormaster's left arm, shoulder, and a large chunk of his upper torso away from his body. He then turned, spat the spasming limb out of his mouth, then turned back and planted his left foot onto Motormaster's chassis. His claws folded in, slashing deep into Motormaster's chest, tearing away his armor and shredding internal mechanisms. Smoke billowed from Motormaster's mouth, energon poured from his lips and his optics faded soon after. He pitched back, his laser core extinguished before he hit the ground.

Breakdown suddenly let out a high-pitched scream. He clutched his head with one hand while waving his concussion rifle around with the other. "No no no no! Stop looking at me! Get away get away GET AWAY!" He broke out into a run, transforming into his Lamborghini Countach mode and sped off, veering around wildly. His trunk opened and a double-barreled plasma blaster emerged, firing with every swerve.

The other Stunticons, Dead End,Drag Strip and Wildrider quickly followed suit, transforming into their vehicle modes and speeding off in different directions.

Impactor vented some exhaust and raised his harpoon. "Okay, they wanna do this the hard way? We'll do it the hard way!" His shoulder-mounted tank cannon swiveled and locked onto Wildrider. It fired several explosive shells at the maniac. The first two missed, but the rest struck Wildrider, tossing him about and blowing apart his roof-mounted plasma cannon and sending him careening and flipping out of control. He transformed back to robot mode in the middle of one flip, his armor torn and his right arm heavily damaged and missing his right hand. With a wild cry he hefted his scattershot gun with his left hand and fired sporadically, most of the shots shooting straight up into the sky.

Impactor tapped the side of his head and his vocoder's volume increased to maximum. "Contain the Combaticons. Right now they're not doing anything, and I've got a sneaking suspicion Onslaught's not stupid enough to make any moves."

Bulkhead's right hand retracted. There was a flash of light inside the wrist socket and his battle mace extended and expanded, a whitish-gray ball covered with spikes and studs. "And the Stunticons?"

Impactor walked forward towards Wildrider, Bulkhead and Roadbuster following. "Wreck and rule."

"... And I've got a sneaking suspicion Onslaught's not stupid enough to make any moves."

Brawl straightened up. "D-did Impactor just give us an 'out'?"

Onslaught's servos tensed as Topspin, Twin Twist, and several others he didn't recognize surrounded him and his teammates. Overhead, Whirl, in his helicopter alternate mode, hovered close by, juking and jiving with every second, but his weapons always trained on the Combaticons. "I believe he did, and I for one intend – "

Movement caught his sensors. He reached out as Wildrider's smoking, scorched head sailed across the battlefield towards him. He caught it in mid-arc and held it up with one hand. "Alas, poor Wildrider, as the humans would say."

Blast Off chuckled as he inched back slightly. "Really?"

Onslaught tossed the head behind his shoulder. "No, not really. I always hated him. Undisciplined brute with no sense of timing or coordination. May Unicron feast on his laser core." He dropped his sonic stun gun to the dirt and spun around. "As for us, everyone, drop your weapons and put your defensive systems into cold shutdown! It's our only chance to not end up like him and the others!"

As Brawl, Vortex and Blast Off disarmed themselves, the other three Stunticons fought and died with little ceremony. Drag Strip's front spoilers were crushed by the feet of the Dinobots Snarl and Slag. When he transformed to robot mode, Snarl swung his stegosaurus mode's tail around and impaled him on its spikes. The tips of the spikes glowed and shot off several blasts from the tips, blowing holes throughout Drag Strip's chassis. Slag followed it up with a clubbing blow from his own tail, ripping Drag Strip in half.

Dead End sped towards Rack'n'Ruin and Broadside. "Just blow me up and get it over with!" he screeched out. "we are all food for rust!"

Broadside shrugged. His pulse rifle fired, shooting out Dead End's front tires. As Dead End's front end swung about, Rack'n'Ruin's back-mounted laser cannons spat superheated plasma at Dead End, slicing through his hood, windshield, roof and doors. Dead End slowed to a crawl at his feet. With nary a word, the conjoined Autobot brought his left arm's hammer down, smashing Dead End's body into a barely-recognizable pile of junk.

Swoop in pterodactyl mode, dove down towards Breakdown. The paranoiac's roof-mounted concussion cannon turned and fired at him, but Swoop managed to dodge each blast. He fired off several missiles, each one striking Breakdown. He was tossed into the air as several more hit him, blowing him apart in a rather large fireball and sending flaming chunks sailing across the battlefield.

Onslaught stepped forward and spread his arms out wide. "Attention, Autobots. This is Onslaught of the Combaticons. We surrender. I say again, we surrender. We are unarmed and our tactical systems are deactivated."

Grimlock, still in Tyrannosaurus mode and still standing over Motormaster's corpse, spun around. He started moving towards the Onslaught, gaining speed with each step. His optic sensors were glowed a bright crimson, and energon dribbled down his teeth and chin.

Brawl punched his fists together. "I don't think we're getting out of this functional, Onslaught."

Vortex spun about as Wreckers and Dinobots converged on them. "I think you're right for once, Brawl."

Blast-Off sighed. "It's probably a bit late to say this, but it's been an honor."
Grimlock slowed to a halt and transformed to robot mode. He leveled his double-barreled missile launcher at Onslaught's head, but paused before pulling the trigger. Seconds passed, then he pulled it back. "No. Me Grimlock not like you. Me Grimlock not BE you. Me Grimlock Dinobot, so you not die here." He suddenly reared back and punched Onslaught in his chest armor, sending him falling back. "Me still Grimlock, though," he said, his optic band blazing.

Onslaught grunted from the impact. "I'll take it, I'll take it!"

Impactor approached the four. "Onslaught, on behalf of the Wreckers here, I accept your surrender and common sense. You're now in Autobot custody." He motioned to them. "Slap stasis cuffs on them and get them up to the Rough and Ready." He turned to walk off, but stopped. "And get a cleaning detail together for all the Stunticon parts. We don't wanna leave a mess."

Four months later

Onslaught stood in the Autobot's Council Chambers, Blast Off, Vortex and Brawl standing behind him, all four in stasis cuffs. At a table sat Optimus Prime, Elita One, Impactor, Jazz, Kup, Silverbolt and Ultra Magnus. Armed guards, most of them Wreckers, surrounded the Combaticons and kept all their weapons leveled at them.

Onslaught stood ramrod straight and stared straight ahead at the still-new governing body of Cybertron. "If you wish to kill us, do so now," he finally said. "No need for pomp or ceremony."

Optimus Prime slowly shook his head. "No... no, Onslaught. I will not have you or the other Combaticons terminated. There's been too much killing, too much energon shed over the course of the Great War. One side has to finally say 'enough'. The rebellion Megatron started was for noble purposes, to overthrow the Functionalist tyranny. I know, I was there. Did he and the other Decepticons go too far? Yes. But I won't replace one form of tyranny with another. We will not terminate your functions, Onslaught. In these circumstances, it wouldn't be right."

Brawl's optic sensors slowly blinked off, then on. "So... you're gonna let us go?"

Elita One spoke up. "No. You'll still be doing time. Your laser cores are to be extracted and placed in a penal institution for ten thousand years. After which, they'll be put into civilian-grade bodies. Then you'll be free to go."

There was silence for a minute. "Will we experience the passage of time?" Vortex finally asked.

Elita One shook her head. "As far as we can tell, no. You won't."

Onslaught suddenly barked a laugh. "Well, it's a kinder fate than what we would've done to you. Maybe it is a good thing you Autobots won the Great War."

Optimus Prime shook his head and clasped his hands together. "No one really 'wins' a war, Onslaught. You merely survive it, and hopefully move past it. Now perhaps we can move past our own war."

As the Combaticons were led off, Blast Off leaned in close to Onslaught. "So, next time we have the chance, we join Starscream's faction?"

Silence was the only reply.

This is another prequel/side-story to 'The Elements of Harmony and the Savior of Worlds'. How the mighty Decepticons have fallen. This is based primarily on G1 Animated, but like most, I've borrowed from other iterations of the franchise. Impactor from the comics and Bulkhead from TF:Prime, for example. I own nothing, naturally. And thanks to IRUn from Space Battles for the title.