Magnatron's cycle in the repair chamber was nearly finished. The critical wounds inflicted by that new Autobot were nearly repaired. If that robot, Magnatron thought, were to attack the Predacon capital and base…everyone was doomed. The Omikron's help was desperately needed, he reminded himself that whereas Predacons were far smaller than Autobots, Omikrons were approximately the same height and size of the enemy.
A mere coincidence, Magnatron thought. The Omikron were obviously Decepticons that had been abandoned on a planet and had branched out into their own faction. They would be of great assistance, if not just for their energy resources, he said to himself.
The chamber's doors lifted, and a burst of cooler air met Magnatron. Agreements needed to be made, alliances forged. Today would be a great day indeed.
***
"This is bullshit," Pax Convoy declared, pacing around the room.
A fully repaired Cheetor looked on. "How were we supposed to know, Pax?" Cheetor stood up. "Your spark is half comprised of two of the greatest leaders of all time."
Rawhyde added in, "The computer was supposed to analyze your spark and create an appropriate alternative mode based on the spark's power and personality." Cheetor nodded. "Cheetor picked two sparks with phenomenal power, and merged them into another 'half' spark. Its your other half, the third spark's fault!"
"Listen to me." Pax kneeled down so as to look into both Rawhyde and Cheetor's eyes. "I don't have an alternative mode! Know what that means? That means that I'm only half as strong as all the other Autobots and Maximals!"
"Pax, you don't need an alternative mode." Cheetor explained, "And we know the reason why you don't have an alternative mode."
"And why's that, master?" Pax said smugly.
Rawhyde stepped in, "Your three spark portions were fighting for dominance. The sides of you that are Primal and Prime fight for the first 50%, while your other half doesn't need to fight. However, the computer needed a completed spark to assign a second form. You don't have that."
"You have a quarter of both Primal and Prime in you, but they're dormant," Cheetor's eyes narrowed in concern. "They're recessive."
Pax grumbled as Silver Convoy entered the room. "Predacons have cleared out of the capital," he reported, "and we've begun repairs. Loss of life was very low, thanks to our intervention." Silver Convoy looked around. "How're the repairs coming to Art and Carrier? I'm sorry I didn't arrive in time," to Pax, "but the shuttle wasn't prepped to go. I'm sorry."
Pax Convoy's upper lip lifted in a sneer. "You know, from what I've gotten from my historic memory records, you act a lot like that boy scout, Ultra Magnus, from the Great War."
Silver Convoy frowned distastefully. "The past is the past. And, you have no idea how valuable and important those drones are." He proceeded to sit lean against a wall near Cheetor.
"You're a real wizard with words, aren't you?" Pax said sarcastically. "Look, all of you! I'm not going to stay here and answer your beckon call if there's not something else in it for me."
Cheetor spoke carefully, "Pax Convoy…what do you want to see or do on Cybertron…?"
"Honestly?"
"Yes, honestly," the Maximal commander replied.
"I want to kick ass and become wealthy."
Cheetor, abashed, continued on. "You just want to fight? You don't want to bring peace back to Cybertron, or help other races free themselves from tyranny?"
Pax grinned. "Only if they pay me for my services. Speaking of which-," Pax started off.
"You idiot," Sharpshot pronounced, reprimanding Pax. "Half your spark has over 4 million years of experience, and you honestly feel that being a mercenary is best?"
Silver Convoy shot Sharpshot a look of disapproval. "Its his life, Sharpshot. We can't tell him how to live it."
"Thanks, boy scout," Pax Convoy said. "I'll be leaving, now."
"You have nowhere to go," Cheetor calmly said.
"I'll make a place to go," Pax remarked. "I've got three drones to back me up."
Cheetor's head swiveled to Rawhyde. Rawhyde lowered his head in shame. "It was the only way he'd agree to help."
Cheetor watched as Pax and his three drones exited the room. "If we offer you payment, will you aid us?" he asked, hopeful.
"Of course!" Pax Convoy replied. "But it'd need to be upfront…I won't take orders from you without getting paid first." Following that final comment, the doors closed behind Pax Convoy as he set out into the world.
Cheetor sighed, irritated by his failure at creating the next great leader. "Silver Convoy, go back out on patrol and keep tabs on him. Don't let him see you, and aid him if he's in trouble.
"Understood."
"Rawhyde…help us to scrounge up more resources," Cheetor said, turning to the Maximal engineer. "If we can find some unallocated resources to pay Pax off with, we can still go through with the attack." He turned, looking out a window, "I just pray that the Predacons haven't created an alliance with the Omikron yet…"
***
"My name is Magnatron, as you already know, and I control all the warriors you see here," the Predacon commander said as he introduced himself to the Omikron commander.
"Yes, yes, Magnatron. We have been anticipating this moment," the raspy voiced Omikron commander said. "You may refer to me as Pharaoh. Shall we begin the alliance talks now?"
"Of course," Magnatron said sincerely, masking his disgust. Why, of all names, must he choose 'Pharaoh'? Probably some inferiority problem…of course, he, Magnatron, would be a far greater leader of the combined Omikron and Predacon force…
Hours of negotiations later, an alliance was formed. The Omikron would supply the Predacons with energy, weapons, metal, as well as other various resources, and the Predacons would allow the Omikron to interlace themselves into the Predacon ranks, as well as share Cybertron together, when it was finally conquered.
Magnatron strode proudly into his quarters. Things were finally going right (for a change). Unfortunately, the Maximals did have that new Autobot…the red one with the gray face. It'd take at least five or ten Omikrons to take that guy down.
Upon entering his quarters, Magnatron activated his com-link. "Computer, record the following message." A beep ensued, and Magnatron began. "I have made an alliance with the Omikron forces today, and our victory over the Maximals shall soon be near at hand. I request your assistance. The Maximals, wary of our new alliance with the Omikron, are getting nervous, and unsure of their next move. They are paralyzed with uncertainty.
"They may attack out of fear, or they may attempt and recover "the artifact", as I have talked of before. This cannot be allowed to happen. If they find it before we do, all our negotiating will have been in vain. Find and recover "the artifact", the Omikron commander requests its possession. I demand its capture. If recovery is not an option, destroy it. Magnatron out.
"Computer, send that message to these Predacons: Charade, Maw-Jaw, Locust, Big Tank, and Thrust."
"Confirmed," rang the reverbatory voice.
Magnatron smiled. It was only a matter of time, really. Soon, "the artifact" would be in his hands, and the Maximals and Autobots at his feet.
***
Elsewhere, far from the Maximal's capital city, Pax Convoy had finished making an agreement of his own with an unscrupulous-looking band of Cybertronians. Perhaps this agreement would be called "selling out" or "allegiance changing."
Silver Convoy watched from far above as Pax shook the hand of the decided leader.
"Inform Commander Cheetor," Silver Convoy ordered. "Tell him… that Pax Convoy has joined Cybertron's 3rd faction… tell Cheetor that Pax just signed on as a mercenary."
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