A PRIVATE, LITTLE WAR
After the Final Great War, members of both sides spread throughout the galaxy and settled on various planets. Few actually returned to Cybertron, due to its low energy levels and over population. This is the story about one such settlement.
CHAPTER ONE
"On one hand, if we don't do something, everyone dies." Wheeljack spoke the truth and his comrades knew it. The situation on the planet Dag had become far more serious than anyone had thought possible. What started out as a single voice, first roared by the feared combat artist Slog, now included three additional Pretenders. They were a collection of warriors that gained a violent reputation as the last Great War came to an end.
Despite what was established by the Pax Cybertronia, the peace treaty that finally closed the doors on war in an official declaration, Slog and his crew ignored its regulations and conditions. Primarily, the treaty stated that as a result of the massive war crimes inflicted by the Decepticon Empire, that the purple emblem used to indicate their faction, were to be retired and removed from public view. They spat in the face of peace and carried on as before, the symbol of death and hate still prominent on their form.
Dag was a small planet, three times the size of Earth's moon. It was known, unofficially, as the retirement home for all sorts of mechanical beings. Some considered it a paradise due to its scenery and pleasant climate, and were more than eager to dwell there after their combat days ended. It was a good place to go when you didn't want to get noticed. When all you wanted to do was enjoy yourself.
But wearing the purple demon shield on ones body drew more than simple notice. It drew fear, anger, and painful memories. Once Slog learned of the rich energon deposits buried deep within Dag's soil, he made it known he intended on claiming the planet in the first step of re-establishing the Decepticon Empire.
The governing bodies did nothing to dampen Slog's ambition. The Decepticon Ambassador, Soundwave, stated that Slog and others in his steed were not acting on behalf of any official Decepticon order. "We can't be responsible for every warrior who seeks his own journey outside the Decepticon cause."
Ultra Magnus, once a feared and respected commander in the Autobot army, now took on the role of Autobot ambassador. His party response was that until action had been taken that could resemble an act of war, no intervention could be approved. Of course, Wheeljack and the few Autobots that called Dag home knew that if they waited for Slog and his army to act, it would be too late. If they were to save Dag and put an end to the looming doom that awaited them all, they had to act immediately. On their own and in an unofficial capacity, void of any Autobot support.
To make matters even more damning, an attack on Slog and his forces, if not done carefully, could incite rage in the remnants of the Deception Empire. They could claim the Autobots violated the treaty, making it void, and insisting on starting another Great War. Perhaps that was why Soundwave seemed uninterested in the rising tensions on Dag. Maybe he wanted someone to do something about Slog, only to use it as a means of reigniting past hatreds on both sides.
"On one hand, if we don't do something, everyone dies." Wheeljack spoke the truth and his comrades knew it. A lone voice called out, inquiring about 'the other hand'. Wheeljack paused briefly before answering. "There isn't one."
"I don't know about this," Bumblebee said. "We're old, run-down, nearing the end of our cycles."
"Speak for yourself!" Windcharger quickly objected.
"All I'm saying is," Bumblebee continued, "Is perhaps we should let someone else come to the rescue this time. We've done our bit for king and country."
Wheeljack walked over to his smaller friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. They had been through a lot over the years, millions of years in fact. Always looking out for each other, forever the best of friends. Wheeljack, the mad scientist and Bumblebee, the faithful follower. The trials and tribulations they had gone through together were many. Both were aboard The Ark when it left Cybertron ages ago and crashed on Earth. Bumblebee was there as Wheeljack apparently died in the infamous attack on Autobot City, only to miraculously return soon after.
Wheeljack witnessed Bumblebee's destruction and rebuilding into Goldbug, and later his evolution into a Pretender; only to later once again take his former name and likeness. And above all other horrors, they had survived the onslaught of Unicron.
"I'm not asking you to help me win a war," Wheeljack stated. "Just help me win a fight."
Bumbleebee turned away for a moment of clarity, then spoke once more. "You, me, Windcharger, and Trailbreaker against a Pretender army? No official mandate, no proper back-up. If we fail, at best we'll be labeled criminals or outlaws. At worst we'll start another Great War!"
"Quit being so negative," Trailbreaker said. He had grown tired of his retirement and relished the opportunity for a little action. "The four of us are as good as a hundred Pretender creeps."
Wheeljack's demeanor brightened as he informed the others of a recent discovery. "Actually," he said with a hopeful tone. "There are a few other Autobots here on Dag who have made it known they'd stand by us if a decision was made." Windcharger and Trailbreaker exchanged surprised glances, and then eagerly waited for the reveal. "Roadbuster, Whirl, and Bluestreak stand ready!" Even the worrisome Bumblebee found reason to be optimistic after hearing those three names.
"Maybe we can do this after all," he stated.
