Forward
After watching the last few Episodes of Transformers: Prime, I decided that I would like to do something of a re-write of my Transformers Prime Season Four. Now that the series is largely finished, it's much easier to continue from where they left off, without having show canon throwing a monkey wrench in what I write every week.
I'm taking a hybridized approach to this continuation, using IDW's More Than Meets The Eye/Robots In Disguise series for background history and cultural/biological concepts, along with some of Hasbro's Aligned Continuity. Concepts and Characters from Generation One, Dreamwave, the Victory manga, the Wings Universe, the Unicron Trilogy and Transformers Animated will also show up, cherry-picked to fit into an IDW-Aligned framework. In short: I am building my own Transformers continuity.
Original Characters will show up to fill gaps that canon characters leave or to fill out gender numbers (there just aren't a lot of canon female transformers). Pairings will exist because they do in just about every canon Transformers series in some manner. Chapters will be "natural" in length – meaning that some will be long, some will be short, and it will depend on when there is a logical need to move on to the next chapter.
I will post chapters whenever possible, as I am a busy person. :)
Insecticon Presents:
PAX CYBERTRONIA
[Teletraan-1 receiving request for download. Request acknowledged: Initializing ... ]
[Chapter One: Access Granted. Displaying Contents.]
. . . . .
"Someone want to remind me why we brought him along?"
Arcee's question was one that had been silently shared by some of the other Autobots who had passed through the space bridge to begin surveying the progress of the newly revitalized Cybertron, though none of them had decided to question Optimus Prime's decision openly – until now.
"Oh come on!" Knock Out protested in exasperation. "Megatron's dead. Shockwave and Starscream are Primus-knows-where and everyone else surrendered. War's over, you won – where else was I supposed to go?"
"The Pit comes to mind," Arcee grumbled under her breath.
"Knock Out surrendered and requested to leave the Decepticons. There is no reason at this time to turn him away. It would be unnecessarily cruel," Optimus pointed out.
"And if Knock Out wishes to cause trouble, having him nearby, overpowered and outnumbered would make any mischief he caused brief," Ultra Magnus added succinctly, glancing over at the crimson medic.
"You see? It's all over! What's past is past, and I'd like to move on now. I'm one of you!" Knock Out cheerfully stated, throwing his most charming grin at the Autobots.
"Like slag you are," Bulkhead grunted, towering over the Aston Martin from behind. "Not until Optimus says so."
"Euugh, fine." Knock Out rolled his eyes and shook his head.
While Cybertron had been restarted, and its core restored, the state of the planet's surface was nothing to send a transmission into deep space over. Millions of years of war lay heaped around them like rotting carcasses, the skeletal remains of buildings, roadways and structures jutting into the golden rays of a new dawn in a ragged skyline. Unless one had hope, and a vision for what Cybertron could be, the ruins in front of the small cadre of Autobots and Decepticons would be enough to make one drop into the rust in despair and weep.
Iacon, one of the last strongholds of the Autobot resistance prior to the exodus, was still in moderately good shape; it would serve as a temporary base of operations until the full extent of Cybertron's reawakening could be assessed. Having landed the Nemesis just outside the Magnaron highway, the mixed group of Cybertronians would not be too far away from the city. No one that had a wheeled alt-mode dared try to drive unprepared through the automated highway system; war damage and potential malfunction of the road mechanics could make it a very short trip into a very steep drop.
"Squadron leader, do you see any functioning roads into the city?" Optimus said over his comlink.
"Looks like the Iacon Speedway is still working, Optimus Prime, Sir. The lights are on, but no one's home. We'll meet you at a safe distance from the entrance. The war may be over, but the security systems are still going to read us as the enemy. Squad leader out."
A group of Seeker-class Vehicons soared overhead. Bumblebee instinctively flinched, weapons only an arm shift away from being brought to bear on their now allies.
Upon Megatron's death, Soundwave's disappearance, Starscream and Shockwave's desertion and Knock Out's surrender, the Vehicons aboard the Nemesis were left leaderless, abandoned to whatever Fate had in store them. For the Vehicons, it was the first step towards true freedom, as they followed suit with Knock Out and surrendered to Optimus Prime.
There had been a few dissenters at first, but they were quickly shouted down by those who simply wanted to live. The Vehicons knew that with their reduced numbers and without proper leadership, there was no way to fight off the whole of the Autobot forces, no matter to what degree they outnumbered them. Some were still shaken by Megatron's demise, while others made no bones about openly rejoicing, having had enough of the abuse handed down from their "superior" officers. It wasn't long before the Vehicons found themselves appreciative, rather than resentful, of their new Autobot chain of command. Despite having been enemies, and technically being prisoners of war, they were treated as fellow Cybertronian exiles. It was as if a 500 ton weight had been lifted from their shoulders.
The Vehicon fliers were scouting the terrain ahead, fanning out to look for potential transit routes for all of the ground forces. Seeker and rotorcraft frames dotted the air on patrols, stirring a sense of nostalgia in those present who were old enough to remember what life was like before the war began. It was almost like old times.
Almost.
Vehicon tankers, speedsters, motorcycles, trucks and tanks followed along behind the group of Autobots – now their commanders – as the group transformed into their alt-modes to follow the directions and GPS updates provided by the aerial members of the group. Suddenly it was the Autobots who looked alien and out of place, still wearing their Earth vehicle modes back on their home planet like foreign clothing on the backs of wandering refugees.
And returned they had. They were home again. The bigger struggle of reconstruction now loomed large before them.
Apart from directional uplinks and basic military commands, the mixed group said nothing on their way to Iacon. There was a sense of awe, mingled with regret, as they drove and flew through native terrain. No one needed to engage in witty, acerbic interfactional banter, or even simple conversation; each Cybertronian was simply overwhelmed with the reality weighing down on them now. The war was over: the underdog Autobots had claimed an unexpected victory, and the Decepticons present were swallowing their pride. Cybertron was alive again, producing the energon they'd had to scrape and ration for so long just to stay alive, but it was also a sad scrapheap and ruin. It would take longer to rebuild than it had to taken to destroy. The strong mixed emotions coursing through the sparks of the returning crowd had oppressed them all into prisons of their own present processes.
The Vehicons reported that part of the old speedway was unexpectedly functional. Optimus went first, still preferring to face danger ahead of those following him, and no one wanted to protest that the Prime retreat to a guarded position. He was no longer just the leader of a rag-tag group of Cybertronians who had refused to submit to Megatron's attempted coup – he was the Prime, the unquestioned civil, military and spiritual leader of an entire world. Protocol dictated that he should be flanked by Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack – Elite Guardsman and ranking Wrecker – but Optimus did not wish the royal trappings and protection that tradition screamed he should had. He had only reluctantly assumed the mantle of leadership when the Council had thrust him into the role, and even then, he had practically been forced to accept his calling. The shy, retiring librarian had not felt himself worthy of greatness. Primus appeared to have thought otherwise.
The road transformed up to meet them, plates sliding up in front of their wheels moments before they could begin to fall. Snaking upwards through the increasingly blue sky, the view of the remains of Iacon, Kalis and surrounding smaller polities became clearer and clearer. The city had taken a pounding during the last hours of the war when the Ark had been launched, but it was still largely intact. It inspired hope in Optimus' spark. It could be home, once more.
His thoughts turned suddenly to Metroplex, and Alpha Trion, the latter he had left behind with the Wreckers, and the former left in stasis lock due to low energon, sacrificing his own lifeblood to fuel the Ark's escape. He was certain he could see the sad outline of Metroplex's kneeling, desolate form just beyond the ruins of the Towers.
Grimlock and his Lightning Strike Coalition Force had stayed behind, even after Ultra Magnus had commanded that the lingering Autobot special forces - the Wreckers - abandon the drifting graveyard that their homeworld had become. Prime wondered if they had survived to see the dawning of new life across the world.
"We're at the gates," the Vehicon Rotorcraft squadron leader radioed ahead. "It's up to you to unlock the front door."
"Acknowledged," Optimus responded, picking up the pace just a little. If the security features of Iacon were still intact, it could mean that the planet's datanet, Teletraan-1, may have come back online. If that were the case, restoring the city's essential functions and communications arrays would be easier than originally thought. It was a lucky break.
Optimus rolled up to the gateway to the city and transformed to root mode. The gates were still sealed shut after all this time, the massive doors too heavy for even a class-6 ruination tank to blast through. The scanning sensor above the gates was lit up, crimson power conduits along the posts and recessed into the walls a long-awaited sign of life and function. The other Autobots, Knock Out and ground-class Vehicons transformed and clustered in close behind Optimus.
Immediately a golden-orange scanning beam traced an outline of Optimus' body, a horizontal beam strobing from head to foot while a secondary beam traveled upwards, crossing in the middle.
A familiar robotic monotone spoke, Autobot symbol flashing over its sensor eye. [Scanning complete. Teletraan-1 recognizes the Matrix-bearer. Welcome back, Optimus Prime.]
"It's good to be back," Optimus replied with a faint smile and a note of relief in his tone. "Teletraan, I need you to grant access to the city for the Decepticons with us. We are ..." He paused; his next words were beyond momentous. "... No longer at war."
[City defenses now set to normal. Decepticons present now allowed access to city functions,] Teletraan responded. To the datanet, this was nothing more than a change of settings, but to the Cybertronians present, it was their first day returning to something resembling normalcy.
The gates groaned in protest, suddenly active after a long slumber, sticking for just a moment before finally grinding open with a cloud of dust. Immediately inside, the lights of Iacon were waiting.
"It's good to be home," Bumblebee grinned, hands on his hips, not seeming to care even the slightest that Iacon was still in a bit of a shambles. The sentiment was shared by Bulkhead, Arcee and Ultra Magnus, all of whom had smiles spreading across their faceplates. Knock Out and Wheeljack's expressions were less than enthused; Wheeljack's loner mentality and Knock Out's Decepticon mindset were making them shrink away from the once busy capital of Cybertron's elite and Autobot High Command. The young Elite Guardsmech Smokescreen seemed somber. He, like Optimus, was wondering what became of Alpha Trion.
"So," the Vehicon General behind the Autobots pointedly asked their Autobot captors, "Are we going to be your slaves now?" The flying Vehicons were landing in behind their grounder brethren, a low murmur passing through the crowd of Disposable-castes who had no great desire to return to being Disposable-castes.
The Autobots looked between the Vehicons and Optimus. The matter hadn't yet come up, not with everyone in a rush to get home to Cybertron. They, too, were curious as to what would become of the Vehicons – and Knock Out.
"No," the Prime gently but firmly answered. "No one is going to be a slave anymore. Megatron and I once agreed that the caste system imposed by the Senate and the proponents of Functionism were grievously wrong. We argued against the old system together. Though Megatron is now no more, what he intended – what he fought against in the beginning – will not be allowed to return. Though his military movement ended in defeat, and cost us much in loss of life, his political movement will live on, and will be the shining beacon of a new Golden Age that he so ardently contended for. As Prime, I hereby abolish the caste system. We will decide our own fates, and make our own way as we rebuild this world."
"I OBJECT!"
The sudden interruption caught the entire group unawares. Weapons were unholstered and shifted out of limbs and transformation plates. Heads were turning to look for the source of the sound.
Optimus' engines hitched. The voice had a familiar quality he could not put his servo on, but the shock of hearing a voice immediately nearby, here, in Iacon, a city all but dead, fuddled his ability to process the identity of that voice. "Who are you, and why do you object?" he asked aloud, turning to try to pinpoint the source of the sound.
"Oh, you know me, Optimus Prime." A tall, athletic fembot in armor of mixed pink hues and white was behind Optimus, standing inside the gates, a large, powerful blaster rifle hefted in one hand back against her right shoulder. Other bodies were beginning to fall in from the other side of the wall, flanking to her left and right – other fembots of multiple hues and frame classes.
Grimlock, Sludge, Slug, Snarl and Swoop fell in behind them, towering over the shorter fembot frames.
"Elita!" Optimus whispered under his breath, transformation plates raised in shock and alarm.
"I see time has not dulled your memory," Elita-One retorted, optics fixed on Optimus. "I object your declaration for two reasons: First," she began pointing her weapon at Knock Out, who raised his hands and grimaced, wide-eyed in fear, "because you are allowing these murderers to live, and secondly..." She stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and Optimus Prime.
"You are not the only Prime."
. . . . .
[Chapter One: Complete.]
[End of Transmission.]