Author's Note: First off, this is really my own continuity. You'll find characters from all versions lurking around acting variously like various incarnations. It's also going to be written kind of like a TV show, and thusly will follow both Autobots and Decepticons. Mostly, it's going to be about human Transformers and slash, though, so hooray! This is a prelude thing of sorts, so enjoy.

Warnings: Nothing for this chapter in particular, but future chapters will have slash, M rated content, and MPreg.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. If I did, this would already be its own show... 3

Episode 1: Transform and... Walk Out Pt. 1

"Okay…"

Wait for it, wait for it…

"We can easily overpower them as soon as they cross around that bend. Everyone understand?"

Everyone did, times over. All of them nodded except one, his large, blue opticals too focused on the bend. The one who kept speaking, a large sharp bot, frowned at him. Around the small group, the cavern was black and much too cramped for five bots of their size.

The sharp bot laughed. "Oh, how we have hungered for this moment…"

Across the tunnel, the large-eyed bot caught a glimpse of shining blue up high, intermingled with a shining pink down below. He squinted, and he caught another glimpse, merely fleeting, but not a mirage, either.

He turned back to the others for the first time, and raised ten fingers.

Ten.

He glanced back through the purple-soaked haze in front of him. The fleeting solidified into beams of color. A finger dropped.

Nine.

The four other bots bristled around him. They were cramped in so tight he could feel every small movement. The sharp bot's arm became a cannon. The smallest bot in their presence shifted constantly from leg to leg.

Eight.

Behind them, the large-eyed bot fished for signs of color. How were there only five? Where was everyone else? He and the others had been letting them know for weeks.

Seven.

Footsteps could be clearly heard echoing off the tunnel's walls. Clank clank clank clank. Clank clank clank clank. Clank clank clank clank.

Six.

Two of the other bots transformed their arms to weapons. Only two- the large-eyed bot and the small bot- remained unarmed.

Five.

"We're going to get them now," muttered the sharp bot. His unchanged fist clenched and unclenched. Energy rippled through his frame.

Four.

"Remember," the large-eyed bot whispered in return, "this is not an all-out attack. We're better than them, are we not?" He felt the same hate in every part of his being, but he would not let it get to his head. He would not.

Three.

Silence from the five bots. Everything went very still. No more jostling, no more whispering. The large-eyed bot strained to pick out how many overseers were coming their way. How many could they take on if there were only five of them?

Two.

Five abused Energon miners: Optimus, Megatron, Jazz, Blackout, and Lugnut were ready to make their stand.

One.

...

"Optimus!"

The tight tunnel, saturated with purple haze, was gone. Optimus found himself in an open, well-lit room. The world felt tilted.

Jazz stood at the door. "Optimus. There's something wrong with the ship."

Optimus blinked, and he placed his head in his hand. Again, he shut off his opticals, then lit them. "How bad?"

"I think you'd better come with me."

Optimus didn't need to be asked twice, not when Jazz had that sense of urgency in his voice. The two highest ranking Autobots hurried through the ship's hall. But even with the hurrying, the world grew more tilted in the short trip to the control room.

The control room was loud, a sharp contrast to the tedious quiet in the ship proper. Someone wanted to keep the peace among the lower-ranking members, apparently. Outside the room, the tilting was the only sign that anything was going wrong, and since the Autobots had spent cycle after cycle on the ship, it was easy to write that off as a peculiar side effect of space travel. It wasn't the first time strange sorts of navigation would have been required. Even Optimus himself understood precious little of the ship's workings. None of the Autobot refugees were any of the mechanics.

"Damn this ship," Ironhide cursed from the controls. He and Ratchet huddled over the panel as it wailed out an alarm. Out of the eight Autobots left after the war, they'd been the two who had dealt with the ship. Between Ironhide's knowledge of mechanics obtained from weapon creation and Ratchet's knowledge of mechanics obtained from being a medic bot, they had floated along.

Until now, apparently.

Ratchet put a comforting hand on Ironhide's back. Neither of them looked towards the door as it opened.

"What's the problem?" Optimus asked gravely. Something about the state of the room told him the answer would not be a pretty one.

"Well, at first," Ratchet answered, voice energized, "all trace of the AllSpark vanished off our tracker. One second it was there, then it wasn't. I assumed the tracker was broken."

"And then this bigger problem snuck up," Ironhide took over, grumbling. "The power died. If we don't do something, this bastard's gonna stop so we're stranded in the middle of space forever."

"Where the Decepticons can easily pick us up," Ratchet concluded.

Jazz and Optimus exchanged a glance, then looked back over the tilted, blaring, flashing room.

"Okay… so what is this 'something' we can do to fix this thing?" Jazz asked. "This ship's all we got left. Our men, our planet, the AllSpark… all kaput in the war."

"We know, we know," Ironhide muttered.

"But as to this 'something'…"

"We have no idea."

Optimus shook his head in an attempt to clear it, then strode up to the control panel. Every monitor was completely blank. Buttons of all sizes and shapes littered the area. Every once in a while, Ratchet or Ironhide would punch one, but no obvious changes occurred.

The world tilted yet further,

Optimus turned his gaze instead to the large window before him. The inky blackness of space was all there was, all there maybe would be for cycles yet. Except… Wait…

"Are you completely sure we know of no way to salvage our ship?"

Ironhide clenched his fists. Ratchet began to actually pat his comrade's back before turning to Optimus.

"Nothing's working, and there's not much time left before it goes completely."

Optimus nodded, never taking his eyes from the window. "Then we have no choice. Ironhide, Ratchet… Crash the ship."

Ratchet gaped, "Crash it? Are you suggesting we use the remaining energy to guide it to that planet's atmosphere, so we can plummet to our dooms? That's crazy!"

Out through the distance of space, a smallish blue and green planet loomed, just in their reach.

"It's just crazy enough," Ironhide replied, his gloomy atmosphere suddenly replaced with an air of determination and recklessness. "Let's do it." He grabbed for the controls, fire in his blue opticals.

Desperate, Ratchet whipped his head from Optimus to Ironhide, from Ironhide back to Optimus, "We need to think logically. We don't know anything about this planet. It's suicide!"

Jazz began inching backwards towards the door. "No time to think logically, I say. I've got to warn Bee and the others!" He bolted out the door just as the flashing red lights and blasting alarm roared to life in the halls. The red reflected off the bots' blue opticals, intermingling and creating a harsh indigo hue.

Ratchet turned to help Ironhide, both of them clinging to the controls for balance. Optimus clutched for a handhold in the tilted ship, rummaging for something, anything that would keep him out of Ratchet and Ironhide's way.

"We've got one shot," Ratchet intoned. "If we don't make this in time it's over."

The ship shot into life, hurtling towards the blue-green mass. Optimus lost his handhold in the propulsion, slamming into the wall of the control room. His world twirled sideways and backwards and upside-down. The ship carrying the last eight known Autobot survivors, the last thing that had withstood while everything else had crumbled around them, barreled closer to a firey death.

In the window, the blue-green mass grew larger and larger and time grew shorter…

Zero.

And in the cramped tunnel shots rang out and everything was confusion and there were too many, way too many…

Everything went black.

...

"What do you mean 'it's gone'?"

The thin bot who responded bowed his head, his voice cautious. "Well, Lord Megatron, our trackers are no longer picking it up. It's been… cloaked, somehow."

"Cloaked?" The much larger bot stomped threateningly towards his second-in-command. "You mean to tell me the AllSpark cloaked itself? Can you tell me, Starscream, how it would accomplish this on its own?"

Starscream flinched back. "No! Of course I'm not saying that. I'm merely suggesting that, well… maybe it's been found." He glanced around briefly, then took a step backward. "If it helps, Master, the Autobots' signals have returned, and they have made landfall."

The second-in-command of the Decepticons kept a wary eye on his leader, bracing himself for the explosion he knew would soon follow. First, Megatron would glare through the window, out where he knew the remaining Autobots were out somewhere, lurking, hiding, searching for the Holy Grail of Cybertron: the AllSpark. Then both his fists would clench, and he would start this sort of growl, and then…

Yep. His arm flew out, catching Starscream's face so the 'con smacked back onto his butt.

"What? You all watched as he Autobots moved closer to the AllSpark and did nothing?" Megatron bellowed.

"Of course not!" Starscream moved to his knees, red optics fixed imploringly on Megatron. "The Autobot signals only came online after the AllSpark disappeared. They may not even be related." He bowed lower, but kept his head towards Megatron. "But if they are, this is our chance! We can kill two birds with one stone, Master."

Megatron evaluated his second-in-command's groveling, turned his words over in his head.

"All right." He made his way past Starscream to the door. "Come, Starscream. If what you say is true, there's no time to waste."

The two highest ranking Decepticons hurried through their ship, the Nemesis, towards the control room.

Inside, entropy reigned. Eleven Decepticons crowded within the small control room, and, of course, only one of them was actually doing anything worthwhile.

Soundwave stood at the controls, Laserbeak perched on his arm and Ravage curled around his feet. They were silent, concentrated. Dreadwing and Skyquake, too, while not standing directly at the controls, were at least attempting to make themselves useful. Each brother took a space on either side of the door, guarding.

The same could not be said for the other six.

"We must await Lord Megatron's glorious decision!" A larger bot known as Lugnut snapped to the other five in his circle. "Starscream," he spat the name, "will be back soon with his command."

"That's assuming we can trust what Starscream says is what Lord Megatron actually said," Blackout added casually, petting at Scorponok, who clung to his back.

"Who cares," Barricade rolled his eyes in response. "We all know Megatron's going to tell us to pilot this thing as quickly towards the Autobots as we can muster."

Frenzy picked up where his partner left off, "Might as well st-"

"Shut up, inzhects! Megatron… Oooh, hi zhere!" Blitzwing's random form burst into crazed laughter as the rest of his circle turned to see what he saw.

Megatron and Starscream stood at the door, both glaring towards the circle.

"Lord Megatron!" Lugnut dropped to his knees. "I knew you would come personally for something as important as this! I-"

Megatron raised his palm, pushing past the circle to Soundwave, completely ignoring Lugnut. Starscream stayed put a second longer, to raise his chin and smirk at the rejected 'con, before following suit.

For a few moments, Megatron merely watched the suddenly uncloaked Autobot energy signals, unmoving, insects on a nearby planet. Involuntarily, his fingers moved over the small, blinking dots, brushing over them. Squashing them.

"Report, Soundwave."

Never taking his eyes or fingers from the controls, a stilted, robotic voice replied, "Autobots on planet known as Earth."

On a screen above them, a sphere emerged. Swirls of blue, green, and white intertwined to fill it out. Blurbs began to pop up on either side. Rich in H2O. Primary language: English. Dominant species: Human. Average height: 5'+"

Megatron's mouth stretched into a smirk.

"Aim for it, Soundwave."

...

Everything had stopped. With one final groan, the previously glorious behemoth had died. The corridors filled with a fine, tan dust. Rips and tears created jagged sections of metal. Every piece of previously bright, whirring machinery lay blank and dull.

In a cramped side room, one bot's optics roared into blue life. He was short-ish and small-ish, one of the last to join the Autobots before they left for parts unknown.

His name was Skycracker, and his mind was frenzied. Everything had been funny, he remembered, and he'd been pressed against the wall when the alarm had begun blaring. His instincts had cried, "Run! Find the others!" but no matter how many steps he took, no matter how many times he screamed for help, he never moved an inch. It was a dream, a bad dream, a very bad dream…

But here he was, dust floating around him, filtering the light coming in through the gaping hole in the wall.

He jumped to his feet. His instincts cried, "Run! Find the others!" and this time his body behaved. Within seconds, he skidded out onto the outside hallway, never stopping. The control room, that's where they'd be. If they had… c-crashed a bunch of them had probably been in there, trying to stop it. Yeah, that was it. Besides, that's where Ironhide was anyway, right? Unless he had been in his room, too, but not if the ship was crashing, he wouldn't. He would be right in the middle of…

"Ironhide!" Skycracker found his voice for the first time since the crash. "Ratchet! Optimus!"

They had all been right in the middle of it, all right. Off to the side, Optimus lay, crumpled against himself, his optics blank. Before Skycracker, the backs of Ratchet and Ironhide slumped over the controls. Neither even made the slightest twitch.

"Ironhide!" Skycracker repeated, bounding towards his lifeless frame. "Ratchet! Optimus!"

He poked at him. Nothing. He put his palm on him. Nothing. He began to violently shake him. Nothing.

No. Nonononono. No. What if he was the only one left? What if all the other seven die… didn't make it and he was the only Autobot left in the whole universe, and…

In front of him, Ironhide groaned as his optics flared to life.

Phew. Skycracker could feel a fraction of the dread lift.

Ironhide began to stir, dragging his arm, then lifting his head. "Oh slag. Ratchet!" He began to reach for the medic just as his optics re-activated.

Another fraction of the dread lifted, apparently for Ironhide as well, for he visibly sighed.

Then, before Ratchet could even lift his head, footsteps roared and echoed from down the hall. The three who were conscious went still. Ironhide got out one of his cannons, his optics still unfocused. They all knew there were only three options. Either the Decepticons had tracked their uncloaked signals, whatever species this planet had to offer was examining the wreck, or…

"Thank the AllSpark!"

It was Jazz and the others.

"So that's why I couldn't find you, Skycracker. Thought the fool had jumped ship and gone to the Well of All Sparks." He swiveled around as he spoke, to the three battered bots surrounding him. Bumblebee clung close to the second-in-command, while Arcee and Prowl fanned out to either side.

"Looks like all o' ur're here. 'Cept…"

Skycracker wrung his hands. Not quite all the dread had lifted yet.

No one spoke. Ironhide and Ratchet rushed towards their crumpled leader, Ironhide placing Optimus's head in his lap as Ratchet yanked out the spark monitor, the monitor on his chest already shifting to reveal the results.

Buzz.

Beep boop.

Ironhide cupped Optimus's scratched face with one hand while Ratchet placed the monitor on him and flipped it on.

Boooooop.

Boop.

Boop.

Boop.

Every second, a sharp rise on the monitor indicated spark activity.

All eight of the Autobots had made it. All the dread was gone.

With that, Jazz clapped his hands together, his mouth stretched into a grin. "'Kay, guys, the Decepticreeps have probably already pegged our location, and I don't wanna know what this planet's life's gonna think about us. We need to, as Optimus would say, transform and roll out. Right, Bee?"

Bumblebee nodded, his protective mask snapping on. He knew what that meant. Cycles ago, back on Cybertron, he'd been designated as the Autobot scout and ambassador. Even earlier, he'd been a tiny part of Cybertron's political system. But since then, he'd spent forever twiddling around on a ship. His duties as scout had never popped up, not once. Eyes drifting to the window in front of them, revealing what appeared to be a dead wasteland that could rival Cybertron any day, he prepared himself to visit parts unknown.

Around him, the others came to life as Jazz gave orders. Ratchet kneeled over the fallen Optimus. Ironhide brought Skycracker up to check the controls and computers with him. Prowl and Arcee went back through the ship to check for what was salvageable.

Bumblebee headed back to check the planet for alt-modes, his internal workings feeling twisted. Nothing, forever. He'd had no chance to do anything, to prove he was a worthy scout at all. This was maybe the most important mission of his life.

On his way out, Jazz caught his arm. "Be careful, Bee."

Bumblebee smiled and gave Jazz a thumbs up. "Of course."

He emerged in the wasteland. Right off, it was different than Cybertron. Cybertron was dead, a husk of metal and buildings and debris. This planet looked as if it had never began. A sea of soft dust covered the land, with nothing else in sight. At first, he tiptoed and danced around, but there was nothing to hide from. He relaxed. It probably wasn't a planet with life on it, though that hopefully didn't mean that there wouldn't be alt-modes. Everything depended on them.

Back on Cybertron, they'd learned how there were billions of planets, most without life. In the preceding cycles, he'd seen that for himself. Sometimes, when things had gotten really boring, he had asked Jazz about the planets they passed by. Most were just as dull as sitting cooped up on the ship. There'd been this one, though, that had had these…

He suddenly jerked to a halt, automatically flinging himself to the ground.

The planet wasn't lifeless, after all. Coming right his way, off in the distance, was a group of small, fleshy things. He searched for signs of machinery around them. Nothing. If he could see them, he should be able to see any machinery. Sighing, he glanced back towards the ship. Couldn't go forward or their cover would be blown. No sign of machinery. No new alt-modes the Decepticons wouldn't recognize. No time to waste, with their signals free reign. Great. In a last minute attempt, he defiantly shot a scan at one of the soft things before turning back to the ship.

Back on the ship, things were fairly well-organized. Everyone crowded in the control room, and Optimus was up. When Bumblebee came in, they all turned towards him.

"Bee! Whatchya find?""

Bumblebee couldn't meet Jazz's eyes as he showed the scan of the creature.

Silence. Ironhide was the first to recover. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Ironhide slammed a fist into the dead controls. "There's nothing we can transform into. The Decepticons are going to make scrap of us."

Off in the corner, Optimus shifted and spoke, his voice hoarse and tired, "Actually, that's not true. The Primes transformed into any life they encountered. We have the capability to do the same."

Ratchet stepped forward, "But, Optimus, that hasn't been done for…"

Optimus clenched a fist, closing his eyes. "Do we really have a choice?" His chest opened to reveal a compartment containing the Matrix of Leadership.

"With this, we can."