EARTHFORCE
Chapter 1
New Vectors
Whether it was fate or God or something else that kept her outside when the Earthside headquarters of the EDC exploded, General Marissa Fairborn counted herself lucky. Then she looked up and saw the three ships—ominous spirals of green-gray—and felt that luck drain away. Instantly recognizable, she'd hoped that she'd never have to see that type of craft, or the cruel beings who owned them, ever again.
She'd just turned seventy a few weeks ago, and despite still being in remarkable health, really didn't need something like this.
The few remaining EDC members—those who weren't in the building— gathered around and looked to her for guidance. "Anyone able to pilot a fighter, come with me! The hangar should still be intact. Anyone else, get a communiqué to Mars!"
Anxious to do something, even if it was just to get moving, she rushed forward. Before she could get very far, a voice halted her. "General Fairborn? I don't think that will be necessary."
There was something strange about the voice, but oddly familiar, mechanical. It was the voice of a Transformer.
She turned and watched a sight she hadn't seen for nearly 40 years. A black sports car covered with flame decals, which had previously been parked near HQ, began unfolding, and began transforming into a giant robot. As its hood became its chest, a panel slid away, revealing a bold red symbol—the Autobot symbol.
Without waiting for further acknowledgement, the Autobot—who physically reminded her of the old Autobot warrior Jazz--looked skyward and produced a long-barreled rifle. Taking his time as the three fighters locked on to him and began to swoop down, he snapped off two shots, blasting the ships to the left and right directly through their engines. They plunged into the large lake the EDC HQ had formerly overlooked.
The third craft, rather than attempting to avenge its fallen comrades, slowed to a hovering position and landed before the Autobot. Uncertain, Marissa kept a hand on the laser pistol that rested in her hip holster.
"Who are you?" she asked the Autobot. She wanted to ask more, but some questions could be saved for later.
"None of your business," the Autobot snapped, his voice cold and harsh, every syllable dripping with threat. "I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is for blowing my cover."
A hiss came from the fighter craft and the Autobot redirected his attention back to it, keeping his pistol aimed at its door. With an additional hiss, the door slid open, revealing a vaguely top-shaped being with whipping tentacles. It was a Quintesson of the one-faced variety, much like the scientist who had kidnapped her a lifetime ago.
"Autobot," it wheezed, "you must help me..."
***
Marissa wasn't certain what had surprised her more; that the Autobot had arranged for a small blue-jet to come and unceremoniously collect the Quintesson, that he'd demanded she get in when he transformed, or that he appeared to be taking her to the mountain where the Autobots' spaceship, the Ark, had once rested.
She'd made several attempts to push the Autobot for more information, but he'd refused to respond. She'd been willing to settle in for a quiet ride—voice aside, something about this Autobot seemed trustworthy—but had to speak up when he made a sharp turn and raced toward the solid rock of the volcano.
"You do know that's a volcano, right?" she asked, the barest hint of panic creeping into her voice.
Naturally, in keeping with what seemed to be his usual behavior, the Autobot did not respond, but instead kept right on driving...through the rock, as though it didn't even exist. Belatedly, she realized it must have been a hologram. The rock faded away, replaced by a room made of cold blue steel and dominated by a large gray, blue, and red Autobot.
"General Fairborn?" he asked. Despite his size and uncanny resemblance to Ultra Magnus, his voice had a soft, unassuming quality to it, topped off by an accent that sounded vaguely British to her ears. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one?"
Her ride's door snapped open and she pulled herself out before answering. "Not entirely. I could have done without driving through a rock wall. My heart isn't what it once was."
"A necessary deception, I am afraid. Our presence here must remain as secret as possible."
"Not much more than wishful thinking now," she replied, gesturing to the Autobot next to her.
"Stepper revealing his presence was... regrettable, but necessary. As was Raindance's retrieval of the Quintesson."
Marissa fixed the Autobot with an angry look. "All right," she said, "you've brought me here, so you must want to talk, must want my input on all of this... But I'm not cooperating one micron until you tell me what's going on. Who are you? Why are you even here? Optimus Prime forbade all Autobots from setting foot on Earth almost forty years ago! ...And why do you look like Ultra Magnus?"
"My... apologies, General," the Autobot said. "My name is Convoy. And I will admit that Ultra Magnus and I share a common design, though I cannot say why. Perhaps we share a creator? I fear the answer, whatever it is, has been lost to the mists of time. As for the rest, I'll try and catch you up as much as I can."
He looked to the other Autobot, Stepper, and said, "Go check on our prisoner, then report to Medi-1 for a post-battle check. No reason to believe the Quintesson did anything to you... but no reason not to be safe either."
Stepper saluted before starting to leave, "Aye, Commander."
Convoy turned his attention back to her. "If you'll follow me?"
***
Convoy took her to what she assumed to be the base's command-center. It was dominated by a large computer screen and an equally large set of controls. Most likely, it was a model in the Teletran series of computers.
"What you should know is that forty years ago Optimus Prime, fearing that the Decepticons, Quintessons, or some other race would further menace Earth, placed a small unit of Autobots—this unit—here almost immediately after the rest of the army left. We've been secretly assisting you humans when we can, and have managed to successfully turn back several threats of which you remained unaware," Convoy said. "With the assistance of certain organizations within your government, we have been able to keep our presence a secret, through a combination of carefully rationing our actions and memory wipes."
Marissa was almost speechless. Though the human part of her was appalled by the notion of altering memories, the military part of her understood the need for operational secrecy. "All this time? But why?"
"As I said, he felt you might need additional protection someday. And you did, and still do. Unfortunately, our element of secrecy may have been compromised."
"Does this mean you'll be pulling out too?"
"No... it just means we shall have to be more careful."
He bent down so that his face was closer to her. "We have been basically on our own all this time, General Fairborn, save for interaction with the more shadowy elements of your government. It has made for a very smooth operation. Now...with the destruction of a very public structure, your presence... complicates things. It cannot be as easily undone. We shall not be able to remain hidden much longer. We will need a strong human ally on our side, if we are to operate more publicly. You were a friend to the Autobots once before. I would like you to be that friend again."
"I can't exactly say I'm happy about this, about you Autobots hiding and doing God knows what, but, if what you say is true, then I can't be entirely displeased with it either. I don't know what to think right now... But I'm willing to learn more."
"That's all I ask. Now then... shall we see to the Quintesson?"
"Yes. Let's."
***
The Autobots' headquarters contained a surprising number of holding cells. Or, perhaps, not so surprising, given their mission and the comment Convoy had made about having protected Earth from threats it had never known about.
Convoy gestured to the cell holding the Quintesson. "Completely soundproof and lightproof from his side. We can see and hear everything he does, but he can't see or hear anything."
He then gestured to the six Autobots who were gathered around, several of whom seemed oddly familiar yet different. "Say hello to the sum total of Earth's Autobots. You've already met Stepper," he said, then indicated a blocky red robot with a white torso and a ladder hanging down his back. "This is Artfire, my second-in-command."
He next indicated a tall, boxy blue and yellow Autobot, nearly identical to her old friend Blaster—almost a little too identical for her tastes—and next to him a smallish red tank and the blue jet Stepper had called upon earlier. "Communications and science officer Twincast, and his cassettes Grand Slam and Raindance, who are capable of combining into a single robot called Slamdance."
He last turned to a red and white Autobot with large shoulder pads, with slightly more angular features and slender limbs. "And our CMO, Medi-1."
"A pleasure, General Fairborn," Medi-1 said. The voice was higher-pitched than Marissa would have expected and Marissa realized, with a slight bit of amusement, that Medi-1 was female. Or as female as a giant alien robot lacking any reproductive organs could be, anyway.
"Indeed," Marissa replied. "I can see Earth has been in good hands."
Convoy allowed the exchange of pleasantries for a moment, then switched over to business. "I'm sure this will be a good relationship," he said, "but now, we have more pressing matters to attend to."
He pressed a button on the wall and the shimmer of the cell's energy barrier changed slightly, making what was inside clearer. Unfortunately, what was inside was...nothing.
"Scrap," Twincast said, his voice normal enough sounding, but with a slight stereo effect to it.. "That's not good."
***
Artfire stepped close to the Quintesson's cell and bent down, as though the Quint might have been hiding somewhere and they just couldn't see him. "Fascinating," he said, his voice sounding... old to Marissa's ears, old and tired.
He stood up, holding a small device between his thumb and forefinger. "Some kind of sensor-baffle, I'd guess, with a combination of holograms and simple recordings."
"Which means he could be anywhere," Grand Slam said, and Marissa found his voice pleasant to listen to, like an old-time radio broadcaster.
"Or he escaped," Raindance added, his voice as grating as Grand Slam's was soothing, the nasal drone of a TV anchorman who thinks too much of himself.
"No," Convoy said, "if he's still here, there's only one thing he could be after: Teletran-4."
Any further order was unnecessary. Convoy simply started moving back toward the command center and the other Autobots followed rapidy. Medi-1 was gracious enough to transform into a white sports car converted for medical duty and allow Marissa to ride inside, allowing her to keep up with the much faster Autobots and provide a measure of stability against the floor beneath her which shook from the presence of so many charging Autobots.
Just as Convoy had predicted, they found the Quintesson hovering before Teletran-4, attempting to work the controls. "Work, blast it! You are an Autobot computer! I know how the Autobots function! I should be able to make you work! I command you to work!"
"Not exactly a gracious guest, is he?" Marissa asked, stepping out of Medi- 1 and allowing her to transform.
"He's a Quint," Stepper said. "Doesn't even have "manners" in his vocabulary."
Slowly, the Quintesson spun to face them. "Autobots... thieves... deceivers... criminals! I find you guilty of theft and sentence you to death! Sharkticons, execute them!"
"And what Sharkticons would you be talking to?" Convoy asked, his voice calm and steady, but a hand on his laser rifle none the less.
This seemed to give the Quintesson pause, as he ceased flailing his tentacles and looked left, right, and behind him, before facing the Autobots again. "You are correct, Autobot. I... it is ... difficult to think straight. Eons of cultural programming...corrective torture...does not wear off easily. My name is Furmanata and I desperately need your help."
"And why should we help you?" Stepper demanded.
"Because I helped A3 develop the Coda Remote and win your freedom."
***
"You can't possibly believe this nonsense!" Marissa shouted, struggling to get out of Twincast's grip. Granted, trying to tackle the Quintesson probably wasn't the best idea, but none of these Autobots had ever been kidnapped and experimented on by one of the tentacled freaks. "Damn it, Blas... just let me go!"
"I can't do that, General. Not until you calm down."
"The human," the Quintesson—Furmanata—said, "is she damaged?"
"No," Convoy replied. "She's just had some bad dealings with your people. As have we all, really."
"I know it makes no difference, but for the wrongs my people have committed against yours, I apologize. I shall understand if you wish to simply let me go and meet my fate... Or even sentence me to the same death to which my people would have sentenced you."
Something in his voice rang true and touched Marissa's heart and she ceased her struggle. Obligingly, Twincast set her down. "No... We'll help you. Right, Convoy?"
The Autobot leader nodded. "For now. But I'd like to know more."
Furmanata nodded. "You're right. You deserve to know everything. Maybe you will find something in my story that will yield a solution. I know I have not been able to find one."
Furmanata paused for a moment, then continued. "I told you I helped A-3 free your people. For my crimes, my fellows forcibly removed me when they retreated, using their technology to banish me to a dimension of pure psychic energy for over a thousand years, slowly reprogramming my mind into the "proper" Quintesson mindset. Millions of years later... when a human unleashed the Hate Plague upon the galaxy, nearly half our number were wiped out by our Sharkticons, and we were forced to flee to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.
"There, we found a burned out world complete with a highly advanced technology. It was... superior in every way to our own. There, we found that the people had once plucked a creature, a mechanoid, from an alternate dimension, trapping it within their world. We tried to free it, to use it against you, but it... wiped out everyone with some sort of power that was both physical and... spiritual. It shattered all but the smallest vestiges of the programming my brethren had inflicted upon me. I tried to flee, taking a starfighter and a pair of drone ships with me, fleeing to the closest planet I believed still harbored Transformers. This planet. I know it has followed me here..."
"And what about firing on EDC headquarters?" Marissa demanded.
"I did not know the drone ships would perceive that building as a threat..."
"Tell that to the hundreds dead, Quint," Marissa snapped.
"Is this true, Stepper? Were they drones?" Convoy asked.
"Yes sir. My sensors confirmed they had no life signs."
"Then," Convoy asked Furmanata, "why didn't you just ask for our help in the first place?"
"I did not believe you would trust me. Our races have been enemies for so long..."
"That doesn't matter," Convoy said. "No matter what animosity we have, no matter what your people did to mine, we're still Autobots, still dedicated to peace and protecting any and all life, everywhere."
"You do your lineage proud, Autobot," Furmanata said. "I trust you are satisfied with my tale?"
Convoy looked over to Medi-1. "Well?"
"Life-signs confirm to what we know about the Quintessons, and showed no fluctuations. Bio-signs were close to that of a Quintesson bargaining from a position of weakness. I can't say he's telling the truth, but my instincts tells me he is," she replied.
"Mine too," Convoy said. "Artfire? General Fairborn?"
"I don't think we can afford not to believe him, not if this threat's heading here," Artfire said. "It might not stop with just wiping out Quintessons."
"Much as I'd like to just toss him to the hounds," Marissa said, a little hint of reluctance creeping into her voice—a reluctance she wasn't proud of at all—"I think his warning is in earnest."
"Then we had best prepare. We'll need you to tell us everything we can about this creature, Furmanata."
Suddenly, the air grew colder, and Marissa had the unsettling feeling of someone stepping on her own grave. "What? What's happen?" she asked, noticing that the Autobots and the Quintesson seemed to be reacting to the cold as well.
"Too late... too late...," Furmanata muttered. "It's here. Death is here..."
***
"Teletran, is there anything or anyone outside?" Convoy snapped, turning his attention to the computer.
Teletran-4 responded in a voice nearly identical to that of the Autobot scientist Perceptor. More than likely, Marissa guessed, he'd been involved in its construction and programming. "Sensors report no life forms other than standard desert creatures, Convoy," the computer reported.
"Get me visual anyway. All external security cameras."
"By your command," Teletran replied, complying with the Autobot commander's request.
The great computer's screen lit up and displayed a view of the desert outside the Autobots' base. At first, there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary and then the soul-numbing cold that seemed to have affected them all tightened its grip as a figure resolved on the screen.
The being was covered from head to foot in armor so black it seemed to pull light into it. Its head was vaguely triangular and spikes jutted out from near each of its joints. Midway down its torso, an additional pair of arms sprang from its sides, though instead of hands, these arms terminated in triangular blades, as dark and almost indefinable as the rest of it.
"Aw, he doesn't look so tough," Stepper said. "We can take him."
"Take another look, Stepper," Artfire said. "See that rock formation next to him? That's about as tall as one of us, right?"
"Yeah?"
"It's only coming up to the middle of its chest."
"...Still doesn't look so tough."
"I told you! I told you!" Furmanata howled. "It is Death! It will destroy us all! Yes! Punish you Autobots! Punish you for what you..."
In response to this, Twincast reached down and gave the Quintesson a spin. "Calm down, Quint! You won't do us any good if you go crazy again!"
"Yes, yes," Furmanata said, woozily. "I shall attempt to have more control in the future."
"See that you do," Convoy said. "All right people, let's go introduce ourselves. We'll try reasoning with it first..."
"It cannot be reasoned with!" Furmanata howled.
Convoy continued as though he had not spoken. "We'll try to reason with it, but if that fails... Then we'll have to use force. Medi-1, I want you to remain inside with General Fairborn and Furmanata, provided that it's acceptable to them."
Reluctantly, Marissa nodded. She knew what she was capable of, and battling even a small Transformer, let alone a being like the one outside, was beyond her even when she was young. "I think that's for the best, Convoy."
"I too shall remain here. Perhaps I can glean some piece of knowledge from your battle," Furmanata replied.
"Then let's roll," Convoy ordered, transforming into an armored car carrier. The others, save for Grand Slam and Raindance, likewise converted to their vehicular modes, with Twincast becoming a boombox and landing deftly inside Artfire's cab.
They rolled.
***
The issue of resolving the conflict peacefully became moot the instant the Autobots cleared the holographic wall. The being did not speak, but simply raised its arms. Sickly emerald fire erupted from each of the being's arms, two bolts only blasting away the true rock of the mountain, the other two blasting the ground just before Stepper and Artfire, launching both into the air. They transformed and recovered, landing on their feet as Twincast, ejected from Artfire, did the same.
Convoy transformed and the battle began. Spherical bolts of energy ripped forward from his massive rifle with the speed of an automatic weapon, blossoming into great explosions of heat and light when they connected with the being's armor and filling the air with smoke.
Grand Slam and Raindance unleashed their weapons, filling the air with missiles and laser beams that slammed into the being and turned sand into glass.
Stepper's long-barreled rifle unleashed great blue bolts of electricity, tracing jagged lines of power through the air that seemed to linger even after they'd left his gun to connect with the being.
Artfire's boxy gun spat tongues of pure-white flame that left the air smoky behind them.
Twincast's gun acted like a transmission disk, unleashing a cone of sound focused into a concussive wave that distorted the air and kicked up a great stream of dust in its path.
"All right, Autobots," Convoy yelled via his comm., "cease fire!"
It took a moment for the air to clear, the dust to settle, and the distortion caused by all the heat to pass. When it did, the being just stood there, impassively; its dark armor seemingly untouched by the colossal forces thrown against it.
For Marissa, watching the battle on Teletran with Medi-1 and Furmanata, it was all she could do not to let out a gasp of horror.
And then she did gasp, for the creature stuck, moving faster than she would have though possible for something its size. Its blade arms scythed out, cutting great gashes in Artfire and Twincast, while its other arms unleashed more of the green energy which punched holes through Grand Slam and Raindance.
Stepper managed to act, turning his electric-weapon on the creature's head, but to no avail. It kept coming, knife-arms slicing through his chest like a knife through butter.
And then Convoy, screaming in inarticulate rage, threw himself at the being, beating his fists against its hide. It paused, seemingly confused by being physically assaulted, but raised an arm and struck the Autobot leader, sending him flying.
It looked back, almost as though it was looking through Teletran's cameras and at the trio inside, then turned and began walking. Strangely, the figure did not so much diminish with distance, but rather simply seemed to fade away until it had vanished completely.
***
It took some effort and careful use of some cargo movers, but they were eventually able to bring the injured Autobots to the med-bay. Though both she and Marissa were initially wary, they allowed Furmanata to help with the repairs. It proved to be an excellent choice. With his help, they were able to affect enough repairs to get the other Autobots going again in a little under an hour.
The repair work in and of itself was nerve-wracking, but the reports from Teletran only made it worse. While it could not actually perceive the creature... no one else on Earth was either. It was just...out there, doing who knows what.
"There," Medi-1 said, closing Convoy's chest plate. "I think we've done all we can."
She looked downcast, trying not to dwell on any of the prone forms filling the room. "Slag, I should have been out there with them, should have done something. Maybe if they'd had just a little more firepower..."
"Then you'd be lying here to for me and the Quint to patch you up," Marissa said.
"Human, I do have a name..."
"And so do I, Quint. ...Listen, Medi, we had no way of knowing that that... whatever it was... was so powerful. You couldn't have made a difference. Instead, because you weren't out there fighting, they get to live. You've given them, given Earth, another chance to spot this thing."
The red and white Autobot nodded, some of the weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. "You're right, General. You're right."
"Please... call me Marissa."
"All right, Marissa. Let's bring our boys back on-line, and see what we can do."
***
The Autobots and their guests sat watching the battle footage in stony silence. When it was finally over, Convoy spoke. "Well? Comments, people?"
It was a moment pregnant with tension. In all the forty years they'd been watching over Earth, never had they been beaten this badly before.
"Those beams," Raindance said, "they felt like they pierced more than my bodies. It felt like... the sparks of my component pieces were being torn apart."
"Yeah," Stepper said. "Those blades felt the same way. Didn't cut anywhere near my spark, but it felt like they were all the same."
"Twincast, Artfire—you two feel the same way?"
"Yes," Artfire said. "That's exactly what it felt like." Next to him, Twincast nodded.
"The question is, then," Convoy continued, "how do we fight a foe we can't even scratch? We could use some of our heavier ordinance, but I am loathe to use them in a populated area."
"I believe I have a solution."
Almost as one, Marissa and the Autobots turned to stare at the Quintesson.
"You?" Stepper asked, incredulous. "Weren't you just predicting our doom a little while ago?"
"Yes, Autobot," Furmanata replied. "I recognize certain aspects of the creature now that I have had a chance to observe it without fearing for my life. It is a Sigma-Guard."
"As in Vector Sigma?" Convoy asked.
"Indeed. I had thought them legend, creatures from before even my time, when my race first discovered Cybertron. There were... sketchy records denoting mechanoids spawned wholly from Vector Sigma, the super-computer my people used to program our robots. Supposedly, they were not so much defeated, but banished, thrown into other dimensions. The other race, the one whose planet we discovered, must have found some way to pluck it from the ether... And my people unleashed it."
The Quintesson made a little noise, perhaps a sigh. It was too quiet for Marissa to hear clearly. "It was created to eliminate the foreign life- forms, my people, the Quintessons, who sought to use Vector Sigma's power for ourselves.. Now, it still seems to believe all beings fall under this category."
Furmanta seemed to be considering something and fixed his gaze on Convoy. It was the cold, clinical gaze of an artist, who'd suddenly realized someone had stolen his style and done a reasonable job of imitating it. "You... you are a product of Vector Sigma, are you not?"
"I suppose," the Autobot commander replied. "I don't know. I've certainly been around long enough for that to be the case."
"And you others," the Quintesson continued, "you were not spawned from it, were you?"
"Not us, anyway," Slamdance said, "Twincast made us."
The others also responded in the negative. All of them had been created long after Vector Sigma was lost, via sparking or other means.
"Then you and only you," Furmanata said, "may hold the key to defeating it. It will not seriously harm another Vector Sigma creation. To have done so, originally, would have been to harm Cybertron itself... When it threw you—did not blast you with fire, or scratch you with its blades—it may well have been attempting to protect you from the others."
"It is possible, Convoy," Artfire said. "You were the only one it didn't attack on a spark-level."
"But where's it gone now?" Marissa asked.
"It probably believes you Autobots were eliminated. Before now, it would only have fought Quintessons. We die far more easily than you do..."
"I think I know how we can find it... Or, at least, make it come to us," Twincast spoke up.
"Elaborate," Convoy snapped. Though trying to remain level-headed, the stress and responsibilities stress of being placed in such a unique situation was clearly weighing on him. It reminded Marissa of Rodimus. That poor boy never had really settled into the role thrust upon him.
"We fake Vector Sigma. If we can amplify your spark-energy, it should be like a Sigma-Beacon! Then, when it shows up, you hit it with everything you have, until it goes down."
"And how do you suggest he does that?" Stepper asked, irritated. "In case you didn't notice, we threw enough power at it to level a few city blocks, and it didn't do squat."
"If I may?" Marissa asked, though doubt crept into her voice. If she, only human, had come up with the idea, the much more advanced computer brains of the Autobots would likely have already discounted it.
"Of course, General," Convoy replied.
"The Quints... I mean, the Quintessons, got rid of these things by banishing them to other dimensions, right? Can't we do that again?"
"It just might work," Convoy said. "I wasn't sure about it but... Twincast, Furmanata, can it be done?"
"It's possible," Furmanata said. "I once studied the plans for our dimensional prisons. I should be able to replicate them."
"I think so," Twincast added. "Take a bit of doing, but it should work."
"Good. Though, of course, we will want to make certain we're not banishing it somewhere with other lifeforms..."
"There are many dimensions devoid of life," Furmanata said, "but finding them will be more difficult..."
"Then it will be more difficult. Furmanata, Twincast, get to work on the spark-amplifier and the dimensional gate. Medi-1 will assist you. The rest of us will continue reviewing the battle-footage, in case this plans fails."
There was a moment of silence all around. "Now," Convoy said, "let's get to work."
***
By the time they'd completed their work, night had fallen and the full moon had risen, giving the desert a dark, eerie appearance. Suspicion filled Marissa's mind, even though their plan appeared to be sound. Where had the Sigma-Guard been during all their planning? Earth was a world full of life, life not spawned of some alien super-computer. Why wasn't it intent on destroying all that as well? At least she was reasonably well protected; Medi-1 had managed to find an old exo-suit for her to wear.
"We're ready, Convoy," Twincast said. "If you want to back out... we can find some other way."
The massive Autobot shook his head. "No. I'm in charge of protecting this planet and I'm the only one who can do this. I'm not about to give up just because of personal risk. Do it."
Twincast placed a turtle-shell shaped device on Convoy's chest, then quickly joined Marissa and the others some distance away. "We're ready when you are, Convoy."
Convoy remained still and silent for a moment, then pressed a button on the center of the device. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening. Then, softly at first, but growing louder and stronger by the second, came a high- pitched whine. Strain showed on Convoy's features and his jaw and fists were clenched in pain. The sound built and built and built until Marissa was certain her eardrums were going to explode... when suddenly, it stopped.
There, standing directly before the Autobot leader, was the Sigma-Guard. It canted its head to one side, as though showing confusion. Small tufts of sickly green fire burned along its limbs.
"Don't be afraid," Convoy said in a clear and calm voice, "I'm not going to harm you. I know you were just trying to protect me." He reached up and placed a hand on the Guard's side.
That was the signal. Furmanata and Twincast steadied their device, a cigar- shaped cannon and took aim at the Sigma-Guard. There was a brief hissing noise as it vented the various gases that helped to regulate it and then a beam of pure white light lanced out, as quiet as the falling snow.
And somehow, the Sigma-Guard still sensed it. The Guard turned and unleashed a bolt of its sickly green flame that ate away at the light beam, pushing it back upon itself until it reached the dimensional projector. The energy traveled through the device, sending the flames through Furmanata and Twincast. They roared in pain, dropping the projector. The damage did not seem as intense as when the Autobots had first fought it; perhaps the channeling of the energy had slightly diffused the Guard's fire. When the attack upon it ceased, the creature paused as it waiting for the Autobots to make the next move.
"Impossible!" Furmanata howled. "Impossible! We...it...doomed!"
"Heh," Stepper chuckled, "maybe if we give it Mr. Cheerful here, it'll go away."
"Not an option," Artfire said. "Looks like we go down fighting. General, stay here with Furmanata."
"No."
"No?"
"This is my planet, and I'll be damned if I'm going to just sit on the sidelines. This thing could wipe out all life on Earth. EDC may not be up to the same level as you Autobots, but I've stopped my share of threats before. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give it my all."
A smile, something she somehow knew was a rare occurrence, broke across Artfire's face. "Very well. You do your race proud, General. Autobots... let's roll for victory!"
"...I may as well join in," Furmanata said, following the Autobots and Marissa. "We're all going to die anyway."
***
Even as the Autobots raced forward to assist their leader, Convoy acted. Moving faster than one would have expected for an Autobot his size, he delivered a double-fisted upper cut into the Sigma-Guard's gut. While it didn't appear to do the creature any harm, it did catch it by surprise, knocking it down and making the ground shake where it hit.
And then Convoy hit it again, this time in the head. Its head snapped around with a surprisingly satisfying, if ineffective, crack. It tried scrambling to its feet, clearly uncertain as to how to act. If what the Quintesson had said was true, it was designed to protect the other spawn of Vector Sigma, not to protect itself from those creations.
And then Convoy fired his shoulder rockets, each blasting into the Guard's chest and turning the night into day with their flare. Once more, the weapons did little damage, but staggered the creature and kept it from taking further action.
Somehow, the Sigma-Guard was still coherent, despite the pounding it was taking from Convoy. For, as the other Autobots arrived, it still unleashed its flame power, directing it through the ground. Instantly, Artfire, Medi- 1, Stepper, Twincast, and Furmanata were immobilized by the power. Of the Autobots, only the airborne Slamdance was unaffected. He responded with his lasers and missiles, but they proved even less effective than Convoy's attack had been.
Or rather, it wasn't the kind of effective the cassette combiner had been looking for. It spurred the Sigma-Guard to action, casting a protective barrier of flame between itself and Convoy, not, apparently, to keep it safe from him, but to keep him safe from Slamdance. Even as Slamdance peppered the Guard with lasers, it shrugged them off, and unleashed flame from all its hands, ensnaring the flier in binds of the sickly green power and dragging him to the ground.
Wait... Marissa had been so stunned by the quickness of its actions that she hadn't noticed it hadn't actually attacked her. Why?
Experimentally, she activated the weapons of her exo-suit, turning the cutting laser on the Sigma-Guard. The energy beam, designed for asteroid mining, made a horrendous whine as it washed into the Guard's armor, but otherwise did nothing but gain its attention. It regarded her with the same curious look it had given Convoy. The flames around the others ceased; her suit's sensors told her that they were all still alive, but that the damage was still enough that they would not be rejoining the fight. The Guard seemed uncertain as to what to do, whether to finish off the Autobots and Quintesson, or just leave...
She rushed to Convoy's side. "We know why it won't attack you... but why isn't it attacking me?"
"Because..." Convoy started to say, the wheels of thought clearly turning in his head. "Get the projector. I'll hold it here."
"What?"
"Just do it!"
Convoy sprang forward, slamming into the Sigma-Guard. He hauled it to its feet, wrapping his thick arms around it. The Guard seemed to struggle, but it was a motion born more from confusion and a simple urge not to be imprisoned than malice.
Marissa quickly sped forward, transforming her exo-suit into its pseudo-car mode. It ate up the distance in seconds and she converted it back to armored-form and grabbed the projector.
"Now!" Convoy yelled. "Turn it on!"
Though not even certain the device would still work, Marissa flipped the switch anyway. Instantly, the beam of light erupted from the barrel, quickly streaming toward Convoy and the Sigma Guard.
He can't..., Marissa thought, he can't mean to sacrifice himself? ..Can he?
But no, Convoy quickly applied a bit of leverage and threw the Sigma-Guard toward the beam.
It made no sound as it vanished from their dimension, but Marissa could have sworn she heard a faint voice, in the back of her mind, asking "why?"
"Is it over?" she asked.
"I think so," Convoy replied, weariness evident in his voice.
"Then care to explain what that was all about?"
"Something Optimus Prime often thought about. You remember the time Galvatron brought Cybertron to Earth, to use the Plasma Energy Chamber to start a super-nova?"
"Do I really even need to respond to that?"
"Ahem... Anyway, Prime later revealed that, in communicating with Vector Sigma, that it had arranged for all that occurred, from Galvatron's learning of the key, to the merging of Nebulans and humans with Autobots and Decepticons, to happen. It was even the involvement of one human in particular, Spike Witwicky, that enabled victory that day. When he later thought about it, Prime concluded that life on those worlds, Earth and Nebulos, must also have somehow come from Vector Sigma, as we Transformers once did."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Do you have a better explanation?"
"No. Doesn't mean I have to buy into that superstitious nonsense though."
A smile broke across Convoy's face, and somehow, Marissa knew that this was a rare occurrence. "No one's asking you to, General," he said, then indicated their fallen comrades. "But there will be time for post-battle analysis later. Right now, we have my comrades to attend to."
"Our comrades, Convoy."
***
Two weeks went by with surprising speed. During this time, the EDC headquarters were rebuilt with Autobot aid. And it was outside the renewed building that the Autobots formally announced their presence to the assembled crowd of officers, reporters, and government officials.
"For more than sixty years, the Autobots have helped watch over our planet," Marissa said, the microphone carrying her words clearly. "Though for forty of those, this has been in secret. We all owe them our lives many times over. Though they would have preferred to remain in secret so as to interfere with our lives as little as possible, circumstances well known to you all and some which must still remain classified have prevented that. Now, they wish to walk among us again. The EDC and the United Earth Government are prepared to welcome them with open arms. Despite fears to the contrary on both sides, it is now believed that they have more to offer us and we them, than we could ever accomplish separately."
She paused for a moment, then gestured to Furmanata, who was standing with the Autobots. "Too, we must learn to put aside old fears, old prejudices. Furmanata, one of the last remaining Quintessons, has applied for asylum. On the basis of my own testimony and that of the Autobots, the government has agreed and released him into the protective custody of the Autobots. In exchange, he has agreed to help us to improve our technology.
"The future is always uncertain; there will always be something which threatens peace and prosperity. But we will not have to go it alone. In this universe, we shall always have faithful friends who can be counted upon. As official liaison between them and the ED, let me be among the first to welcome Convoy, Artfire, Twincast, Stepper, Medi-1, Grand Slam, Raindance, and Furmanata—the Autobot Earthforce!"
Chapter 1
New Vectors
Whether it was fate or God or something else that kept her outside when the Earthside headquarters of the EDC exploded, General Marissa Fairborn counted herself lucky. Then she looked up and saw the three ships—ominous spirals of green-gray—and felt that luck drain away. Instantly recognizable, she'd hoped that she'd never have to see that type of craft, or the cruel beings who owned them, ever again.
She'd just turned seventy a few weeks ago, and despite still being in remarkable health, really didn't need something like this.
The few remaining EDC members—those who weren't in the building— gathered around and looked to her for guidance. "Anyone able to pilot a fighter, come with me! The hangar should still be intact. Anyone else, get a communiqué to Mars!"
Anxious to do something, even if it was just to get moving, she rushed forward. Before she could get very far, a voice halted her. "General Fairborn? I don't think that will be necessary."
There was something strange about the voice, but oddly familiar, mechanical. It was the voice of a Transformer.
She turned and watched a sight she hadn't seen for nearly 40 years. A black sports car covered with flame decals, which had previously been parked near HQ, began unfolding, and began transforming into a giant robot. As its hood became its chest, a panel slid away, revealing a bold red symbol—the Autobot symbol.
Without waiting for further acknowledgement, the Autobot—who physically reminded her of the old Autobot warrior Jazz--looked skyward and produced a long-barreled rifle. Taking his time as the three fighters locked on to him and began to swoop down, he snapped off two shots, blasting the ships to the left and right directly through their engines. They plunged into the large lake the EDC HQ had formerly overlooked.
The third craft, rather than attempting to avenge its fallen comrades, slowed to a hovering position and landed before the Autobot. Uncertain, Marissa kept a hand on the laser pistol that rested in her hip holster.
"Who are you?" she asked the Autobot. She wanted to ask more, but some questions could be saved for later.
"None of your business," the Autobot snapped, his voice cold and harsh, every syllable dripping with threat. "I'm going to be in enough trouble as it is for blowing my cover."
A hiss came from the fighter craft and the Autobot redirected his attention back to it, keeping his pistol aimed at its door. With an additional hiss, the door slid open, revealing a vaguely top-shaped being with whipping tentacles. It was a Quintesson of the one-faced variety, much like the scientist who had kidnapped her a lifetime ago.
"Autobot," it wheezed, "you must help me..."
***
Marissa wasn't certain what had surprised her more; that the Autobot had arranged for a small blue-jet to come and unceremoniously collect the Quintesson, that he'd demanded she get in when he transformed, or that he appeared to be taking her to the mountain where the Autobots' spaceship, the Ark, had once rested.
She'd made several attempts to push the Autobot for more information, but he'd refused to respond. She'd been willing to settle in for a quiet ride—voice aside, something about this Autobot seemed trustworthy—but had to speak up when he made a sharp turn and raced toward the solid rock of the volcano.
"You do know that's a volcano, right?" she asked, the barest hint of panic creeping into her voice.
Naturally, in keeping with what seemed to be his usual behavior, the Autobot did not respond, but instead kept right on driving...through the rock, as though it didn't even exist. Belatedly, she realized it must have been a hologram. The rock faded away, replaced by a room made of cold blue steel and dominated by a large gray, blue, and red Autobot.
"General Fairborn?" he asked. Despite his size and uncanny resemblance to Ultra Magnus, his voice had a soft, unassuming quality to it, topped off by an accent that sounded vaguely British to her ears. "I trust your journey was a pleasant one?"
Her ride's door snapped open and she pulled herself out before answering. "Not entirely. I could have done without driving through a rock wall. My heart isn't what it once was."
"A necessary deception, I am afraid. Our presence here must remain as secret as possible."
"Not much more than wishful thinking now," she replied, gesturing to the Autobot next to her.
"Stepper revealing his presence was... regrettable, but necessary. As was Raindance's retrieval of the Quintesson."
Marissa fixed the Autobot with an angry look. "All right," she said, "you've brought me here, so you must want to talk, must want my input on all of this... But I'm not cooperating one micron until you tell me what's going on. Who are you? Why are you even here? Optimus Prime forbade all Autobots from setting foot on Earth almost forty years ago! ...And why do you look like Ultra Magnus?"
"My... apologies, General," the Autobot said. "My name is Convoy. And I will admit that Ultra Magnus and I share a common design, though I cannot say why. Perhaps we share a creator? I fear the answer, whatever it is, has been lost to the mists of time. As for the rest, I'll try and catch you up as much as I can."
He looked to the other Autobot, Stepper, and said, "Go check on our prisoner, then report to Medi-1 for a post-battle check. No reason to believe the Quintesson did anything to you... but no reason not to be safe either."
Stepper saluted before starting to leave, "Aye, Commander."
Convoy turned his attention back to her. "If you'll follow me?"
***
Convoy took her to what she assumed to be the base's command-center. It was dominated by a large computer screen and an equally large set of controls. Most likely, it was a model in the Teletran series of computers.
"What you should know is that forty years ago Optimus Prime, fearing that the Decepticons, Quintessons, or some other race would further menace Earth, placed a small unit of Autobots—this unit—here almost immediately after the rest of the army left. We've been secretly assisting you humans when we can, and have managed to successfully turn back several threats of which you remained unaware," Convoy said. "With the assistance of certain organizations within your government, we have been able to keep our presence a secret, through a combination of carefully rationing our actions and memory wipes."
Marissa was almost speechless. Though the human part of her was appalled by the notion of altering memories, the military part of her understood the need for operational secrecy. "All this time? But why?"
"As I said, he felt you might need additional protection someday. And you did, and still do. Unfortunately, our element of secrecy may have been compromised."
"Does this mean you'll be pulling out too?"
"No... it just means we shall have to be more careful."
He bent down so that his face was closer to her. "We have been basically on our own all this time, General Fairborn, save for interaction with the more shadowy elements of your government. It has made for a very smooth operation. Now...with the destruction of a very public structure, your presence... complicates things. It cannot be as easily undone. We shall not be able to remain hidden much longer. We will need a strong human ally on our side, if we are to operate more publicly. You were a friend to the Autobots once before. I would like you to be that friend again."
"I can't exactly say I'm happy about this, about you Autobots hiding and doing God knows what, but, if what you say is true, then I can't be entirely displeased with it either. I don't know what to think right now... But I'm willing to learn more."
"That's all I ask. Now then... shall we see to the Quintesson?"
"Yes. Let's."
***
The Autobots' headquarters contained a surprising number of holding cells. Or, perhaps, not so surprising, given their mission and the comment Convoy had made about having protected Earth from threats it had never known about.
Convoy gestured to the cell holding the Quintesson. "Completely soundproof and lightproof from his side. We can see and hear everything he does, but he can't see or hear anything."
He then gestured to the six Autobots who were gathered around, several of whom seemed oddly familiar yet different. "Say hello to the sum total of Earth's Autobots. You've already met Stepper," he said, then indicated a blocky red robot with a white torso and a ladder hanging down his back. "This is Artfire, my second-in-command."
He next indicated a tall, boxy blue and yellow Autobot, nearly identical to her old friend Blaster—almost a little too identical for her tastes—and next to him a smallish red tank and the blue jet Stepper had called upon earlier. "Communications and science officer Twincast, and his cassettes Grand Slam and Raindance, who are capable of combining into a single robot called Slamdance."
He last turned to a red and white Autobot with large shoulder pads, with slightly more angular features and slender limbs. "And our CMO, Medi-1."
"A pleasure, General Fairborn," Medi-1 said. The voice was higher-pitched than Marissa would have expected and Marissa realized, with a slight bit of amusement, that Medi-1 was female. Or as female as a giant alien robot lacking any reproductive organs could be, anyway.
"Indeed," Marissa replied. "I can see Earth has been in good hands."
Convoy allowed the exchange of pleasantries for a moment, then switched over to business. "I'm sure this will be a good relationship," he said, "but now, we have more pressing matters to attend to."
He pressed a button on the wall and the shimmer of the cell's energy barrier changed slightly, making what was inside clearer. Unfortunately, what was inside was...nothing.
"Scrap," Twincast said, his voice normal enough sounding, but with a slight stereo effect to it.. "That's not good."
***
Artfire stepped close to the Quintesson's cell and bent down, as though the Quint might have been hiding somewhere and they just couldn't see him. "Fascinating," he said, his voice sounding... old to Marissa's ears, old and tired.
He stood up, holding a small device between his thumb and forefinger. "Some kind of sensor-baffle, I'd guess, with a combination of holograms and simple recordings."
"Which means he could be anywhere," Grand Slam said, and Marissa found his voice pleasant to listen to, like an old-time radio broadcaster.
"Or he escaped," Raindance added, his voice as grating as Grand Slam's was soothing, the nasal drone of a TV anchorman who thinks too much of himself.
"No," Convoy said, "if he's still here, there's only one thing he could be after: Teletran-4."
Any further order was unnecessary. Convoy simply started moving back toward the command center and the other Autobots followed rapidy. Medi-1 was gracious enough to transform into a white sports car converted for medical duty and allow Marissa to ride inside, allowing her to keep up with the much faster Autobots and provide a measure of stability against the floor beneath her which shook from the presence of so many charging Autobots.
Just as Convoy had predicted, they found the Quintesson hovering before Teletran-4, attempting to work the controls. "Work, blast it! You are an Autobot computer! I know how the Autobots function! I should be able to make you work! I command you to work!"
"Not exactly a gracious guest, is he?" Marissa asked, stepping out of Medi- 1 and allowing her to transform.
"He's a Quint," Stepper said. "Doesn't even have "manners" in his vocabulary."
Slowly, the Quintesson spun to face them. "Autobots... thieves... deceivers... criminals! I find you guilty of theft and sentence you to death! Sharkticons, execute them!"
"And what Sharkticons would you be talking to?" Convoy asked, his voice calm and steady, but a hand on his laser rifle none the less.
This seemed to give the Quintesson pause, as he ceased flailing his tentacles and looked left, right, and behind him, before facing the Autobots again. "You are correct, Autobot. I... it is ... difficult to think straight. Eons of cultural programming...corrective torture...does not wear off easily. My name is Furmanata and I desperately need your help."
"And why should we help you?" Stepper demanded.
"Because I helped A3 develop the Coda Remote and win your freedom."
***
"You can't possibly believe this nonsense!" Marissa shouted, struggling to get out of Twincast's grip. Granted, trying to tackle the Quintesson probably wasn't the best idea, but none of these Autobots had ever been kidnapped and experimented on by one of the tentacled freaks. "Damn it, Blas... just let me go!"
"I can't do that, General. Not until you calm down."
"The human," the Quintesson—Furmanata—said, "is she damaged?"
"No," Convoy replied. "She's just had some bad dealings with your people. As have we all, really."
"I know it makes no difference, but for the wrongs my people have committed against yours, I apologize. I shall understand if you wish to simply let me go and meet my fate... Or even sentence me to the same death to which my people would have sentenced you."
Something in his voice rang true and touched Marissa's heart and she ceased her struggle. Obligingly, Twincast set her down. "No... We'll help you. Right, Convoy?"
The Autobot leader nodded. "For now. But I'd like to know more."
Furmanata nodded. "You're right. You deserve to know everything. Maybe you will find something in my story that will yield a solution. I know I have not been able to find one."
Furmanata paused for a moment, then continued. "I told you I helped A-3 free your people. For my crimes, my fellows forcibly removed me when they retreated, using their technology to banish me to a dimension of pure psychic energy for over a thousand years, slowly reprogramming my mind into the "proper" Quintesson mindset. Millions of years later... when a human unleashed the Hate Plague upon the galaxy, nearly half our number were wiped out by our Sharkticons, and we were forced to flee to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.
"There, we found a burned out world complete with a highly advanced technology. It was... superior in every way to our own. There, we found that the people had once plucked a creature, a mechanoid, from an alternate dimension, trapping it within their world. We tried to free it, to use it against you, but it... wiped out everyone with some sort of power that was both physical and... spiritual. It shattered all but the smallest vestiges of the programming my brethren had inflicted upon me. I tried to flee, taking a starfighter and a pair of drone ships with me, fleeing to the closest planet I believed still harbored Transformers. This planet. I know it has followed me here..."
"And what about firing on EDC headquarters?" Marissa demanded.
"I did not know the drone ships would perceive that building as a threat..."
"Tell that to the hundreds dead, Quint," Marissa snapped.
"Is this true, Stepper? Were they drones?" Convoy asked.
"Yes sir. My sensors confirmed they had no life signs."
"Then," Convoy asked Furmanata, "why didn't you just ask for our help in the first place?"
"I did not believe you would trust me. Our races have been enemies for so long..."
"That doesn't matter," Convoy said. "No matter what animosity we have, no matter what your people did to mine, we're still Autobots, still dedicated to peace and protecting any and all life, everywhere."
"You do your lineage proud, Autobot," Furmanata said. "I trust you are satisfied with my tale?"
Convoy looked over to Medi-1. "Well?"
"Life-signs confirm to what we know about the Quintessons, and showed no fluctuations. Bio-signs were close to that of a Quintesson bargaining from a position of weakness. I can't say he's telling the truth, but my instincts tells me he is," she replied.
"Mine too," Convoy said. "Artfire? General Fairborn?"
"I don't think we can afford not to believe him, not if this threat's heading here," Artfire said. "It might not stop with just wiping out Quintessons."
"Much as I'd like to just toss him to the hounds," Marissa said, a little hint of reluctance creeping into her voice—a reluctance she wasn't proud of at all—"I think his warning is in earnest."
"Then we had best prepare. We'll need you to tell us everything we can about this creature, Furmanata."
Suddenly, the air grew colder, and Marissa had the unsettling feeling of someone stepping on her own grave. "What? What's happen?" she asked, noticing that the Autobots and the Quintesson seemed to be reacting to the cold as well.
"Too late... too late...," Furmanata muttered. "It's here. Death is here..."
***
"Teletran, is there anything or anyone outside?" Convoy snapped, turning his attention to the computer.
Teletran-4 responded in a voice nearly identical to that of the Autobot scientist Perceptor. More than likely, Marissa guessed, he'd been involved in its construction and programming. "Sensors report no life forms other than standard desert creatures, Convoy," the computer reported.
"Get me visual anyway. All external security cameras."
"By your command," Teletran replied, complying with the Autobot commander's request.
The great computer's screen lit up and displayed a view of the desert outside the Autobots' base. At first, there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary and then the soul-numbing cold that seemed to have affected them all tightened its grip as a figure resolved on the screen.
The being was covered from head to foot in armor so black it seemed to pull light into it. Its head was vaguely triangular and spikes jutted out from near each of its joints. Midway down its torso, an additional pair of arms sprang from its sides, though instead of hands, these arms terminated in triangular blades, as dark and almost indefinable as the rest of it.
"Aw, he doesn't look so tough," Stepper said. "We can take him."
"Take another look, Stepper," Artfire said. "See that rock formation next to him? That's about as tall as one of us, right?"
"Yeah?"
"It's only coming up to the middle of its chest."
"...Still doesn't look so tough."
"I told you! I told you!" Furmanata howled. "It is Death! It will destroy us all! Yes! Punish you Autobots! Punish you for what you..."
In response to this, Twincast reached down and gave the Quintesson a spin. "Calm down, Quint! You won't do us any good if you go crazy again!"
"Yes, yes," Furmanata said, woozily. "I shall attempt to have more control in the future."
"See that you do," Convoy said. "All right people, let's go introduce ourselves. We'll try reasoning with it first..."
"It cannot be reasoned with!" Furmanata howled.
Convoy continued as though he had not spoken. "We'll try to reason with it, but if that fails... Then we'll have to use force. Medi-1, I want you to remain inside with General Fairborn and Furmanata, provided that it's acceptable to them."
Reluctantly, Marissa nodded. She knew what she was capable of, and battling even a small Transformer, let alone a being like the one outside, was beyond her even when she was young. "I think that's for the best, Convoy."
"I too shall remain here. Perhaps I can glean some piece of knowledge from your battle," Furmanata replied.
"Then let's roll," Convoy ordered, transforming into an armored car carrier. The others, save for Grand Slam and Raindance, likewise converted to their vehicular modes, with Twincast becoming a boombox and landing deftly inside Artfire's cab.
They rolled.
***
The issue of resolving the conflict peacefully became moot the instant the Autobots cleared the holographic wall. The being did not speak, but simply raised its arms. Sickly emerald fire erupted from each of the being's arms, two bolts only blasting away the true rock of the mountain, the other two blasting the ground just before Stepper and Artfire, launching both into the air. They transformed and recovered, landing on their feet as Twincast, ejected from Artfire, did the same.
Convoy transformed and the battle began. Spherical bolts of energy ripped forward from his massive rifle with the speed of an automatic weapon, blossoming into great explosions of heat and light when they connected with the being's armor and filling the air with smoke.
Grand Slam and Raindance unleashed their weapons, filling the air with missiles and laser beams that slammed into the being and turned sand into glass.
Stepper's long-barreled rifle unleashed great blue bolts of electricity, tracing jagged lines of power through the air that seemed to linger even after they'd left his gun to connect with the being.
Artfire's boxy gun spat tongues of pure-white flame that left the air smoky behind them.
Twincast's gun acted like a transmission disk, unleashing a cone of sound focused into a concussive wave that distorted the air and kicked up a great stream of dust in its path.
"All right, Autobots," Convoy yelled via his comm., "cease fire!"
It took a moment for the air to clear, the dust to settle, and the distortion caused by all the heat to pass. When it did, the being just stood there, impassively; its dark armor seemingly untouched by the colossal forces thrown against it.
For Marissa, watching the battle on Teletran with Medi-1 and Furmanata, it was all she could do not to let out a gasp of horror.
And then she did gasp, for the creature stuck, moving faster than she would have though possible for something its size. Its blade arms scythed out, cutting great gashes in Artfire and Twincast, while its other arms unleashed more of the green energy which punched holes through Grand Slam and Raindance.
Stepper managed to act, turning his electric-weapon on the creature's head, but to no avail. It kept coming, knife-arms slicing through his chest like a knife through butter.
And then Convoy, screaming in inarticulate rage, threw himself at the being, beating his fists against its hide. It paused, seemingly confused by being physically assaulted, but raised an arm and struck the Autobot leader, sending him flying.
It looked back, almost as though it was looking through Teletran's cameras and at the trio inside, then turned and began walking. Strangely, the figure did not so much diminish with distance, but rather simply seemed to fade away until it had vanished completely.
***
It took some effort and careful use of some cargo movers, but they were eventually able to bring the injured Autobots to the med-bay. Though both she and Marissa were initially wary, they allowed Furmanata to help with the repairs. It proved to be an excellent choice. With his help, they were able to affect enough repairs to get the other Autobots going again in a little under an hour.
The repair work in and of itself was nerve-wracking, but the reports from Teletran only made it worse. While it could not actually perceive the creature... no one else on Earth was either. It was just...out there, doing who knows what.
"There," Medi-1 said, closing Convoy's chest plate. "I think we've done all we can."
She looked downcast, trying not to dwell on any of the prone forms filling the room. "Slag, I should have been out there with them, should have done something. Maybe if they'd had just a little more firepower..."
"Then you'd be lying here to for me and the Quint to patch you up," Marissa said.
"Human, I do have a name..."
"And so do I, Quint. ...Listen, Medi, we had no way of knowing that that... whatever it was... was so powerful. You couldn't have made a difference. Instead, because you weren't out there fighting, they get to live. You've given them, given Earth, another chance to spot this thing."
The red and white Autobot nodded, some of the weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. "You're right, General. You're right."
"Please... call me Marissa."
"All right, Marissa. Let's bring our boys back on-line, and see what we can do."
***
The Autobots and their guests sat watching the battle footage in stony silence. When it was finally over, Convoy spoke. "Well? Comments, people?"
It was a moment pregnant with tension. In all the forty years they'd been watching over Earth, never had they been beaten this badly before.
"Those beams," Raindance said, "they felt like they pierced more than my bodies. It felt like... the sparks of my component pieces were being torn apart."
"Yeah," Stepper said. "Those blades felt the same way. Didn't cut anywhere near my spark, but it felt like they were all the same."
"Twincast, Artfire—you two feel the same way?"
"Yes," Artfire said. "That's exactly what it felt like." Next to him, Twincast nodded.
"The question is, then," Convoy continued, "how do we fight a foe we can't even scratch? We could use some of our heavier ordinance, but I am loathe to use them in a populated area."
"I believe I have a solution."
Almost as one, Marissa and the Autobots turned to stare at the Quintesson.
"You?" Stepper asked, incredulous. "Weren't you just predicting our doom a little while ago?"
"Yes, Autobot," Furmanata replied. "I recognize certain aspects of the creature now that I have had a chance to observe it without fearing for my life. It is a Sigma-Guard."
"As in Vector Sigma?" Convoy asked.
"Indeed. I had thought them legend, creatures from before even my time, when my race first discovered Cybertron. There were... sketchy records denoting mechanoids spawned wholly from Vector Sigma, the super-computer my people used to program our robots. Supposedly, they were not so much defeated, but banished, thrown into other dimensions. The other race, the one whose planet we discovered, must have found some way to pluck it from the ether... And my people unleashed it."
The Quintesson made a little noise, perhaps a sigh. It was too quiet for Marissa to hear clearly. "It was created to eliminate the foreign life- forms, my people, the Quintessons, who sought to use Vector Sigma's power for ourselves.. Now, it still seems to believe all beings fall under this category."
Furmanta seemed to be considering something and fixed his gaze on Convoy. It was the cold, clinical gaze of an artist, who'd suddenly realized someone had stolen his style and done a reasonable job of imitating it. "You... you are a product of Vector Sigma, are you not?"
"I suppose," the Autobot commander replied. "I don't know. I've certainly been around long enough for that to be the case."
"And you others," the Quintesson continued, "you were not spawned from it, were you?"
"Not us, anyway," Slamdance said, "Twincast made us."
The others also responded in the negative. All of them had been created long after Vector Sigma was lost, via sparking or other means.
"Then you and only you," Furmanata said, "may hold the key to defeating it. It will not seriously harm another Vector Sigma creation. To have done so, originally, would have been to harm Cybertron itself... When it threw you—did not blast you with fire, or scratch you with its blades—it may well have been attempting to protect you from the others."
"It is possible, Convoy," Artfire said. "You were the only one it didn't attack on a spark-level."
"But where's it gone now?" Marissa asked.
"It probably believes you Autobots were eliminated. Before now, it would only have fought Quintessons. We die far more easily than you do..."
"I think I know how we can find it... Or, at least, make it come to us," Twincast spoke up.
"Elaborate," Convoy snapped. Though trying to remain level-headed, the stress and responsibilities stress of being placed in such a unique situation was clearly weighing on him. It reminded Marissa of Rodimus. That poor boy never had really settled into the role thrust upon him.
"We fake Vector Sigma. If we can amplify your spark-energy, it should be like a Sigma-Beacon! Then, when it shows up, you hit it with everything you have, until it goes down."
"And how do you suggest he does that?" Stepper asked, irritated. "In case you didn't notice, we threw enough power at it to level a few city blocks, and it didn't do squat."
"If I may?" Marissa asked, though doubt crept into her voice. If she, only human, had come up with the idea, the much more advanced computer brains of the Autobots would likely have already discounted it.
"Of course, General," Convoy replied.
"The Quints... I mean, the Quintessons, got rid of these things by banishing them to other dimensions, right? Can't we do that again?"
"It just might work," Convoy said. "I wasn't sure about it but... Twincast, Furmanata, can it be done?"
"It's possible," Furmanata said. "I once studied the plans for our dimensional prisons. I should be able to replicate them."
"I think so," Twincast added. "Take a bit of doing, but it should work."
"Good. Though, of course, we will want to make certain we're not banishing it somewhere with other lifeforms..."
"There are many dimensions devoid of life," Furmanata said, "but finding them will be more difficult..."
"Then it will be more difficult. Furmanata, Twincast, get to work on the spark-amplifier and the dimensional gate. Medi-1 will assist you. The rest of us will continue reviewing the battle-footage, in case this plans fails."
There was a moment of silence all around. "Now," Convoy said, "let's get to work."
***
By the time they'd completed their work, night had fallen and the full moon had risen, giving the desert a dark, eerie appearance. Suspicion filled Marissa's mind, even though their plan appeared to be sound. Where had the Sigma-Guard been during all their planning? Earth was a world full of life, life not spawned of some alien super-computer. Why wasn't it intent on destroying all that as well? At least she was reasonably well protected; Medi-1 had managed to find an old exo-suit for her to wear.
"We're ready, Convoy," Twincast said. "If you want to back out... we can find some other way."
The massive Autobot shook his head. "No. I'm in charge of protecting this planet and I'm the only one who can do this. I'm not about to give up just because of personal risk. Do it."
Twincast placed a turtle-shell shaped device on Convoy's chest, then quickly joined Marissa and the others some distance away. "We're ready when you are, Convoy."
Convoy remained still and silent for a moment, then pressed a button on the center of the device. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening. Then, softly at first, but growing louder and stronger by the second, came a high- pitched whine. Strain showed on Convoy's features and his jaw and fists were clenched in pain. The sound built and built and built until Marissa was certain her eardrums were going to explode... when suddenly, it stopped.
There, standing directly before the Autobot leader, was the Sigma-Guard. It canted its head to one side, as though showing confusion. Small tufts of sickly green fire burned along its limbs.
"Don't be afraid," Convoy said in a clear and calm voice, "I'm not going to harm you. I know you were just trying to protect me." He reached up and placed a hand on the Guard's side.
That was the signal. Furmanata and Twincast steadied their device, a cigar- shaped cannon and took aim at the Sigma-Guard. There was a brief hissing noise as it vented the various gases that helped to regulate it and then a beam of pure white light lanced out, as quiet as the falling snow.
And somehow, the Sigma-Guard still sensed it. The Guard turned and unleashed a bolt of its sickly green flame that ate away at the light beam, pushing it back upon itself until it reached the dimensional projector. The energy traveled through the device, sending the flames through Furmanata and Twincast. They roared in pain, dropping the projector. The damage did not seem as intense as when the Autobots had first fought it; perhaps the channeling of the energy had slightly diffused the Guard's fire. When the attack upon it ceased, the creature paused as it waiting for the Autobots to make the next move.
"Impossible!" Furmanata howled. "Impossible! We...it...doomed!"
"Heh," Stepper chuckled, "maybe if we give it Mr. Cheerful here, it'll go away."
"Not an option," Artfire said. "Looks like we go down fighting. General, stay here with Furmanata."
"No."
"No?"
"This is my planet, and I'll be damned if I'm going to just sit on the sidelines. This thing could wipe out all life on Earth. EDC may not be up to the same level as you Autobots, but I've stopped my share of threats before. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give it my all."
A smile, something she somehow knew was a rare occurrence, broke across Artfire's face. "Very well. You do your race proud, General. Autobots... let's roll for victory!"
"...I may as well join in," Furmanata said, following the Autobots and Marissa. "We're all going to die anyway."
***
Even as the Autobots raced forward to assist their leader, Convoy acted. Moving faster than one would have expected for an Autobot his size, he delivered a double-fisted upper cut into the Sigma-Guard's gut. While it didn't appear to do the creature any harm, it did catch it by surprise, knocking it down and making the ground shake where it hit.
And then Convoy hit it again, this time in the head. Its head snapped around with a surprisingly satisfying, if ineffective, crack. It tried scrambling to its feet, clearly uncertain as to how to act. If what the Quintesson had said was true, it was designed to protect the other spawn of Vector Sigma, not to protect itself from those creations.
And then Convoy fired his shoulder rockets, each blasting into the Guard's chest and turning the night into day with their flare. Once more, the weapons did little damage, but staggered the creature and kept it from taking further action.
Somehow, the Sigma-Guard was still coherent, despite the pounding it was taking from Convoy. For, as the other Autobots arrived, it still unleashed its flame power, directing it through the ground. Instantly, Artfire, Medi- 1, Stepper, Twincast, and Furmanata were immobilized by the power. Of the Autobots, only the airborne Slamdance was unaffected. He responded with his lasers and missiles, but they proved even less effective than Convoy's attack had been.
Or rather, it wasn't the kind of effective the cassette combiner had been looking for. It spurred the Sigma-Guard to action, casting a protective barrier of flame between itself and Convoy, not, apparently, to keep it safe from him, but to keep him safe from Slamdance. Even as Slamdance peppered the Guard with lasers, it shrugged them off, and unleashed flame from all its hands, ensnaring the flier in binds of the sickly green power and dragging him to the ground.
Wait... Marissa had been so stunned by the quickness of its actions that she hadn't noticed it hadn't actually attacked her. Why?
Experimentally, she activated the weapons of her exo-suit, turning the cutting laser on the Sigma-Guard. The energy beam, designed for asteroid mining, made a horrendous whine as it washed into the Guard's armor, but otherwise did nothing but gain its attention. It regarded her with the same curious look it had given Convoy. The flames around the others ceased; her suit's sensors told her that they were all still alive, but that the damage was still enough that they would not be rejoining the fight. The Guard seemed uncertain as to what to do, whether to finish off the Autobots and Quintesson, or just leave...
She rushed to Convoy's side. "We know why it won't attack you... but why isn't it attacking me?"
"Because..." Convoy started to say, the wheels of thought clearly turning in his head. "Get the projector. I'll hold it here."
"What?"
"Just do it!"
Convoy sprang forward, slamming into the Sigma-Guard. He hauled it to its feet, wrapping his thick arms around it. The Guard seemed to struggle, but it was a motion born more from confusion and a simple urge not to be imprisoned than malice.
Marissa quickly sped forward, transforming her exo-suit into its pseudo-car mode. It ate up the distance in seconds and she converted it back to armored-form and grabbed the projector.
"Now!" Convoy yelled. "Turn it on!"
Though not even certain the device would still work, Marissa flipped the switch anyway. Instantly, the beam of light erupted from the barrel, quickly streaming toward Convoy and the Sigma Guard.
He can't..., Marissa thought, he can't mean to sacrifice himself? ..Can he?
But no, Convoy quickly applied a bit of leverage and threw the Sigma-Guard toward the beam.
It made no sound as it vanished from their dimension, but Marissa could have sworn she heard a faint voice, in the back of her mind, asking "why?"
"Is it over?" she asked.
"I think so," Convoy replied, weariness evident in his voice.
"Then care to explain what that was all about?"
"Something Optimus Prime often thought about. You remember the time Galvatron brought Cybertron to Earth, to use the Plasma Energy Chamber to start a super-nova?"
"Do I really even need to respond to that?"
"Ahem... Anyway, Prime later revealed that, in communicating with Vector Sigma, that it had arranged for all that occurred, from Galvatron's learning of the key, to the merging of Nebulans and humans with Autobots and Decepticons, to happen. It was even the involvement of one human in particular, Spike Witwicky, that enabled victory that day. When he later thought about it, Prime concluded that life on those worlds, Earth and Nebulos, must also have somehow come from Vector Sigma, as we Transformers once did."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Do you have a better explanation?"
"No. Doesn't mean I have to buy into that superstitious nonsense though."
A smile broke across Convoy's face, and somehow, Marissa knew that this was a rare occurrence. "No one's asking you to, General," he said, then indicated their fallen comrades. "But there will be time for post-battle analysis later. Right now, we have my comrades to attend to."
"Our comrades, Convoy."
***
Two weeks went by with surprising speed. During this time, the EDC headquarters were rebuilt with Autobot aid. And it was outside the renewed building that the Autobots formally announced their presence to the assembled crowd of officers, reporters, and government officials.
"For more than sixty years, the Autobots have helped watch over our planet," Marissa said, the microphone carrying her words clearly. "Though for forty of those, this has been in secret. We all owe them our lives many times over. Though they would have preferred to remain in secret so as to interfere with our lives as little as possible, circumstances well known to you all and some which must still remain classified have prevented that. Now, they wish to walk among us again. The EDC and the United Earth Government are prepared to welcome them with open arms. Despite fears to the contrary on both sides, it is now believed that they have more to offer us and we them, than we could ever accomplish separately."
She paused for a moment, then gestured to Furmanata, who was standing with the Autobots. "Too, we must learn to put aside old fears, old prejudices. Furmanata, one of the last remaining Quintessons, has applied for asylum. On the basis of my own testimony and that of the Autobots, the government has agreed and released him into the protective custody of the Autobots. In exchange, he has agreed to help us to improve our technology.
"The future is always uncertain; there will always be something which threatens peace and prosperity. But we will not have to go it alone. In this universe, we shall always have faithful friends who can be counted upon. As official liaison between them and the ED, let me be among the first to welcome Convoy, Artfire, Twincast, Stepper, Medi-1, Grand Slam, Raindance, and Furmanata—the Autobot Earthforce!"