Writer's Note - Apologies for a long wait but we seemed to have random internet problems which have, as you may have guessed, been corrected. To compensate for the delay, this chapter is a little longer.
[QUINTESSA LOG THAT NO-ONE KNOWS ABOUT - #16]
"Time has lost all meaning. It has been days, weeks, months and possibly two years since we lost Sharkticon-56. His family have been informed. Many aboard the ship believe that we shall see Sharkiton-56 again one day. That soon we will be reunited but, alas, it can only appear to be but a foolish dream. There's a reason Sharkticon-56 was awarded the 'Hide and Seek Champion' for his seventh consecutive year. In other news, we received word from Earth. Inquirata's lab assistant has reported in at last but his message was unintelligible. It was decided among us that the constant screaming could only mean that something had gone wrong and we're all very sure that the idiot is dead now. Inquirata was devastated by the news; he was so violently thrown into shock that he spontaneously forgot his lab assistant's name and even claimed that he couldn't recall ever having a lab assistant in the first place. The rest of us, however, are faring better since we're expected to reach planet Earth right on time. It will only be a matter of time before we are reunited with our prodigal creations and we are eager to see how far they have progressed. Our only worry is that we have yet to decide a plan of action. It is a comfort to know that the Cybertronians have no idea we're coming."
The expected and completely anticipated arrival of the Quintessons was drawing nearer and nearer. If the story had a musical score, their ships may have been accompanied by the theme of Jaws or, perhaps more appropriately, the Imperial March from Star Wars. Anything ominous and threatening, really.
Fortunately, however, for the awaiting Cybertronians on Earth, they could hear nothing and therefore had been able to concentrate on preparing for the would-be arrival.
Which meant, in Optimus Prime's case, finally making the call that he had been putting off for over a month.
It was incredible how easy it was to procrastinate around the issue and after watching fifty or so cat videos, playing a game, browsing Ebay, buying something he didn't need off Ebay, checking his inbox, looking at funny pictures and still not understanding what on earth a 'meme' was, Optimus sent a call to Megatron. The line twinkled and chirped a merry tune for a bit before cutting to what sounded like Soundwave putting on an accent.
"Please hold. Your call is important to us. Thank you for contacting the Decepticons." Then there was ten seconds of heavy metal scream music. "Please hold. Your call is important to us. Thank you for contacting the Decepticons."
Optimus leant back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, optics glazed and looking, overall, thoroughly unimpressed.
"Please hold. Your call is important-"
"You can bet your metal tin can of a backside it is, Soundwave, now pass me on to Megatron!"
The heavy metal music stopped and the screen now flickered on to show Soundwave's sulky face.
"Optimus Prime: Can't take a joke," he mumbled.
"And you, Soundwave, can't make a joke. Now I wasn't sparked yesterday - Decepticons don't have answering machines. Get Megatron on the line," Optimus sighed.
Just before Soundwave was about to give the leader of the Autobots a very rude hand sign, the screen flickered again and changed to show Megatron's beaming face instead.
"Ah Optimus!" he greeted, "Always happy to hear from you, my friend. Come to negotiate the terms of your immediate surrender?"
Optimus rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and glowered at the face on screen. "I am almost tempted to say that I am if only to see your reaction, but you know that is not true."
Megatron dropped his broad smile but kept a very slight smirk on. "No," he replied, "I know why you've contacted me. You think the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"
"You've been calling me your friend for centuries," Optimus told him, "In fact, you just called me that 30 seconds ago!"
Megatron's face seemed to imply that he wanted to rewind the last few moments so as to correct himself.
"You make an intriguing point and I'll be sure to bear that in mind now let's hear your pitch already - I've got other problems to deal with."
"Problems that don't involve Autobots or Quintessons?"
"Shockingly, our lives don't always revolve around each other, Optimus, as much as we'd both love them to."
"Well, you could have fooled me. I'm sure I don't remember chasing YOU across the universe when we left Cybertron."
"We were looking for energon! And we just happened to be looking for it in the same places as you."
"Did you want to hear what I have to say, Megatron?"
Megatron rolled his eyes. "A proposed alliance between Autobot and Decepticon to fend off the threat of the Quintessons."
"When you say it so bluntly, it sounds much less thrilling," Optimus pouted behind his mask. He often activated his mouth piece when talking to Megatron because he wanted to appear as unreadable to the Decepticon leader as possible. It made him look more warrior-like. More Prime-like. Not Orion Pax-ey.
"Try looking at it from my point of view Optimus," Megatron then said, "Here I am, safely protected beneath the strongest battleship ever created, in my impenetrable and completely weaponised fortress which is teaming with my highly trained Decepticon armies. Then there's a feeble tap tap at my door-"
"What 'door'?"
"-and there's this tiny little Iaconian squatting outside with a rag-tag collection of Cybertron nobodies hanging off his tailpipe who seem to think that it's in our best interest to accept their help because SOMEHOW that will tilt the odds of success in our favour." He slammed his hand on his own desk and chortled loudly. "Well rejection stings, doesn't it, Prime. It really does burn!"
Optimus could not look more deadpan if he tried and he couldn't even fathom the concept of emotion. "You've been waiting a long time to have this conversation, haven't you?"
"Just tell me," Megatron barked, "what have you got to offer us that we don't already have?"
Optimus Prime leant forward and clicked his fingers, ready to get down to business.
"You've created an error in making yourself into one giant target, Megatron," he warned, "My Autobots can be found all over this planet so if a time came when you think you've rid yourself of all of us, you'll never be sure. We may have come from humble beginnings but the Autobots are as every bit as warrior class as you are."
The threat was there for Megatron to take in whatever way he wanted. In the end, however, all he could muster was, "...Haven't seen your Dinobots in a while."
"Haven't seen your Seekers, either."
"Touche."
The next order of business was, of course, to meet with the tyrannical Decepticon and that was an appointment that took longer to make for Optimus had remembered that Elita had made him promise to include her. The meeting with Megatron took place at a mid-way point between the Decepticon fortress, the Ark and the Femmes' base (because that was the most conveinient for all of them).
Elita-One was first on the scene, arms folded, legs spaced and an expression that was set to kill.
"Where's Bumblebee?" was her first question.
"Don't worry," Optimus assured her, "he's back at the Ark with Ratchet."
"Hmm," Elita murmured, "So long as you're sure they can't locate the Ark..."
"I'm sure," Optimus smiled, taking her hand in greeting, "Bumblebee is quite safe."
"Us, on the other hand," Jazz muttered, nodding his head towards the sky.
Like the 11th plague, Megatron and a handful of Decepticons (Stunitcons they turned out to be) descended upon them, attempting to create as extravagant an entrance as possible complete with hands on hips and inflated chests.
"Congratulations, Prime," Megatron greeted, "You've coaxed me from my throne with your piteous petitions."
Optimus Prime, with Ironhide and Jazz either side of him and Elita-One watching his back, nodded a greeting back at him.
"I won't lie, Megatron," he admitted, "I almost expected you to refuse a meeting. Very trusting of you to leave your fortress considering you didn't want to risk us finding out where your base's weak points are."
"Well, let's be realistic here," Megatron shrugged, "If we're going to be fighting a battle against Quintessons, we shall need to pool our resources, won't we? Can't do that unless we open our base to you."
"Yer willing to let us cruise through your fortress?" Jazz said, cocking an eyebrow from behind his shades.
Megatron felt his mouth tug into a grimace at the cool, laid-back aura that the Autobot First Lieutenant seemed to give off.
"Some of you, maybe," he murmured, "We have house rules, after all." The Decepticon then tilted his head to look over Optimus' shoulder and caught sight of a stern, powder pink face. "...Elita-One?" he smiled, "What a pleasant surprise! And of course, that lovely face of yours has barely corroded with age. It's been a long time since I last saw you."
"I'm only sorry you have had to see me," Elita seethed, "It's not been long enough."
Megatron blinked at her and then nervously laughed, wondering, not for the first time, why and how Optimus Prime and Elita-One had come to the conclusion that they'd make ideal lifelong companions.
"Let's make this as brief as possible for both our sakes," Optimus was saying, bringing Megatron out of his bizarre daydream of how Optimus Prime and Elita-One had met as Orion Pax and Ariel, "A select group of Autobots and myself will accompany you back to your fortress to decide on our tactics. I presume we will be permitted entrance to the Nemesis? Along with the Ark, I believe the two ships will-"
"Until further notice," Megatron quickly interrupted, "the Nemesis is off-limits to everyone."
The Autobots exchanged confused looks.
"Everyone?"
"Including Cons?" Jazz asked, taking a glance at the Stunticons who were standing quietly and kicking the dry soil underneath their feet.
"It is only a temporary arrangement, I can assure you," Megatron told them, avoiding eye contact. "For the benefit of my Seekers."
"Benefit?" Ironhide echoed incredulously, "Since when do you spoil Starscream?"
Megatron glowered at Ironhide. "It is strictly confidential business that I won't be telling the likes of some gun-toting shadow of Optimus Prime."
Jazz winced and glanced at Ironhide who cracked his knuckles threateningly.
"Say that again so I have an excuse when I send a fist through your faceplates," he muttered and then felt a firm grip on his shoulder.
"Ironhide, steady," Optimus told him and then to Megatron said, "I take it, however, that Starscream will be present for a tactical discussion? Against the Quintessons, aerial assault will be-"
"Starscream is unlikely to be there, he is unwell."
Megatron spoke so quickly that it took the Autobots a few seconds to try and work out what he had said.
"Unwell?" Elita frowned.
"He's unlikely to be there," Megatron coughed awkwardly, "The Seekers are unlikely to be ready in time for the Quintessons."
"What do you mean by 'unwell'?" Jazz asked.
"Say that again but slowly," Optimus said, confused, "What, exactly, is wrong with Starscream?"
Megatron let out a long sigh. "...He and his Seeker Armarda haven't flown in several weeks," he explained in a slower voice. "They... get twitchy when they can't fly."
"So you went and turned your prized Aerial Combat Team into a bunch of lunatics," Ironhide laughed, "Of course you did. SUCH a Decepticon move."
"May I remind you," Megatron retorted, "that you Autobots are to blame for their current mental state? If you hadn't forced me to-"
"Oh and there it is," Jazz interrupted with a shake of the head, "We're playin' the 'Blame' card this round. We ain't the ones who forget t' maintain our bots, man. I mean, the Aerialbots like a good fly but they don't get uppity about it. If we 'ad Seekers, we'd have some kinda Flight Room set up for emergencies."
"...Shockwave is sorting that as we speak."
"If we can finish pointing fingers at each other some time soon, that would be appreciated," Optimus then intervened, hoping he was presenting an impressive figure for Elita-One. But before he could continue on with the discussion, another voice joined them from Megatron's comms which were left on loudspeaker.
"...Lord Megatron?"
"Speaking of the Virus..." Ironhide smiled.
Megatron turned away in and removed himself from the immediate circle to take the call.
"This...this is Shockwave...calling Mega-"
"Yes, alright Shockwave," Megatron answered, "What's your report? I hope you're closer to finishing that room."
Shockwave cleared his throat. "...Well, technically... I mean... Yes, Lord Megatron."
"So," Megatron prompted expectantly, "what's the expected finishing time?"
Shockwave hesitated before replying. "...Well... You see... That depends."
Megatron didn't bother to say anything. He waited until the silence made it obvious enough that Shockwave wasn't going to get a response. So the scientist cleared his throat again.
"On... certain factors," he finished.
Megatron's voice became hard and emotionless. "I find myself lacking patience, Shockwave so I'll try and put this clearly: I am in need of two things if we're to defend ourselves against the Quintessons. The first is my Warship and the second thing I need is my perfectly sane and perfectly functioning squadron of Seekers. Now my chances of acquiring either of those are completely dependent on when you finish that flight room."
There was a brief pause.
"...I have excellent news, Megatron," Shockwave told him, "The Nemesis Warship is yours to utilise."
That took Megatron by surprise. "What?" he frowned, "But you said... so you have finished it?"
Shockwave gave his own equivalent of a nervous laugh.
"N-No, my Lord. The room isn't..." He stopped and admitted defeat. Why try and talk his way around the situation any further? "The Seekers have escaped," he announced flatly, "I've lost them."
An explanation, of course, had to be given and Shockwave's story went as follows:
Since the evacuation of the Deecpticons from the Nemesis and the imprisonment of the Seekers, Shockwave had grown used to the constant banging and screeching and scraping at his door and the string of threats and insults that were sung every evening and every morning. Eventually though, after a few more days (possibly a week) had passed, the Seekers seemed to dissipate and their noise grew less.
It wasn't the relieving comfort that Shockwave wanted, however, as their sudden silence could only mean that Psychosis had come upon them and they were now roaming the warship as savage predators in the hunt for something to channel their frustration. If Shockwave so much as touched the door of his workshop, he could sense something hissing on the other side, daring him to come out.
Priority 1 was, of course, build a fully functioning Flight Room so he could fix the Seekers, return the Warship to the rest of the Decepticons, appease Megatron and restore his treacherous, back-stabbing, cunning weasel of a First Lieutenant to him. Looking up from his secondary project, Shockwave wondered why he even bother with Starscream; cure the other Seekers, certainly, but where was the harm in leaving Starscream as a gibbering lunatic that slithered around on his tummy like the snake he was?
Illogical, Shockwave had then concluded, Starscream possesses some needed skills for the cause.
And anyway, Megatron needed someone to blame when things went wrong. If Megatron didn't have his favourite punching bag around, he'd find other ways to vent his anger and Shockwave didn't fancy the chances that he and Soundwave would get away unharmed. In many ways, the pair of them owed a lot to Starscream: he diverted their Master's violence so they could remain shiny and undented.
That being said, the Room's progress wasn't quite as swift as Shockwave would have liked which (he believed) wasn't his fault seeing that, as the Decepticon's Chief Science Officer, he had a thousand other projects he was working on at the same time. Such as this one: a miniature droid that would scoot around the corridors with a camera to see what the Seekers were up to and to see what state they were in.
There was no way he was planning on going to check on them himself; it had been well over a month since the Seekers had last flown.
Out through the vents went the droid that Shockwave built, tootling out into the corridor and doing a quick scan while Shockwave observed everything from the safety of his workspace.
At first, there didn't appear to be anything outside his door. It was the same metal plated, poorly lit walkway that it usually was with the same piping running across the ceiling and the same scratched floor below.
Until, that is, Shockwave looked closer and saw two dimmed red optics peering at the droid from the shadow of the far corner bulkhead, crouched down where Shockwave's door was in full view. It was hard to make out from the gloom but Shockwave was convinced it was Red Wing, the Seekers' weapon specialist, the one with the mutated optics that allowed him to see great distances.
Living up to his name, Red Wing was bright red all over. It made things a little easier for that meant the probability that there were two other Seekers nearby were slim seeing as Red Wing was one of the four Seekers that had no trine: Red Wing, Nacelle, Slipstream and Wheezing Arrow. Red Wing's trine had been killed back on Cybertron.
It was a peculiar set-up and one that Shockwave took a private interest in: when a Seeker lost a member of its Trine, it could be amended by integrating a new member but when a Seeker lost both members of its Trine, either due to death or abandonment, it had to rely solely on another complete Trine as what was known as a 'safeguard', the spare set of wings. Should a complete Trine lose a member, either temporarily or permanently, a safeguard was called upon to take the place of the missing member, ensuring that the most strategic formation of the three-point triangle was kept. In return for such a crucial role, the Trine would protect and support the safeguard as an adopted younger sibling, for want of a better description, taking care of them as its previous Trine would have done before.
However the formations of Trines were a deeply rooted tradition and, for this reason, a safeguard couldn't hope to share in the close kinship that existed between an original Trine which meant that safeguard Seekers kept themselves to themselves usually and wandered about alone - and that's what Shockwave was counting on.
Red Wing's Safeguard Trine were the Attack Trine, also known as the Coneheads: Dirge, Ramjet and Thrust.
None of them appeared to be around but Red Wing hadn't taken his eyes off Shockwave's droid which was unsettling. Because it wasn't the droid that Red Wing was lurking about and waiting for - it was the Decepticon Scientist inside his future Flight Room.
"They've most certainly suffered processor damage," Shockwave couldn't help but think proudly, "for no Decepticon would ever think of taking me on by themselves. Certainly not a lone flier."
The droid began to move off as Shockwave directed, mentally ticking off one Seeker.
Red Wing didn't move. He stared after the droid as though his dumb mind wasn't registering it as something to be curious about which struck Shockwave as odd seeing as Seekers were notoriously curious by nature.
"Perhaps he's been stationed there to keep an eye on the door," Shockwave shuddered. "To let them know when I emerge from hiding." A chilling thought, to be sure.
Soon Red Wing was left behind ("with me," Shockwave pointed out) and the dark monotony of the Nemesis corridors began to slowly roll by the camera feed, revealing nothing in the way of indicating where Red Wing's brethren were hiding. Audio feed told Shockwave that there was an occasional clank and scraaaape somewhere in the Nemesis but there wasn't anything to suggest what was making those sounds.
Besides the odd flash of shadow darting over a light, of course.
Which wasn't creepy at all.
For several minutes, Shockwave's poor droid trundled through corridor after corridor, not picking up anything until, at last, a slender, lithe figure appeared at the end of the corridor junction from the left. Strangely, it appeared to be moving on all-fours, it's long limbs stepping gracefully and slowly as it crept around the corridor, freezing upon catching sight of the unusual stranger in its way.
It took Shockwave three seconds to register the appearance of the bright green Seeker and assign a name to its configuration: Acid Storm, Head of the Covert Trine, also known as the Rainmakers. Mutation: ability to manipulate the atmosphere of a planet to induce a build up of acidic moisture. Megatron loved sending the Rainmakers out over an Autobot target and have them generate acid rain down on them all. Of course, it was always a risky move as it could unintentionally damage any nearby Decepticon troops at the same time.
Acid Storm growled at the unknown droid and he tilted his wings (which appeared to be trembling) to indicate a level of irritation. A moment later, two other Seekers appeared alongside, one on all fours like Acid Storm and the other crouched on two legs. That was the problem with Seekers - they rarely travelled alone.
The Rainmaker Left Wing, Ion Storm, who had the mutated ability to generate and manipulate lightning bolts of electricity, was the first to creep up to the droid and give it a poke while the Right Wing, Nova Storm, with the mutated armour that was able to withstand volcanic temperatures and briefly (only briefly) enter the second layer of a star's atmosphere, hung back uncertainly.
"You can flit through the chromosphere of a star - A STAR - but you're not sure of a wedge of metal with a camera?" Shockwave couldn't help but mutter to himself.
He could now see, thanks to Ion Storm coming up close, that all the Rainmakers, not just Acid Storm, appeared to have tremors - brief shakes that might appear to be a form of shivering but one that caused them to lose balance momentarily. As though confirming this, a violent shiver ran through Nova Storm's body which sent the Seeker toppling into the wall and letting out a yip of distress. Psychosis had made the Rainmakers jumpy it seemed because at the cry from Nova Storm, the other two shot to their feet with wide optics and bolted down the hallway, Nova Storm following swiftly, apparently not realising what it was that had caused the shared panic.
4 Seekers accounted for and, if the Rainmakers were fleeing to the safety of their flock, Shockwave was certain he could check off the rest of the Seekers before long if he gave chase. Not literal chase, of course. The droid could only tootle along so fast and after the next two bends, it was quite apparent that Shockwave had lost the Rainmakers.
Or he thought he had.
They may have been losing their minds...but the Seekers were cunning. They were still part of a flock and a flock worked together.
Just when Shockwave was about to admit that he couldn't see any of the three Rainmakers, the camera feed suddenly started to pop and flashes of white and black flittered across the screen as the audio crackled. Shockwave frowned and started to test his equipment...but no, everything was fine on his end. The problem had to be where the droid was.
And it was peculiar because the interference with the camera feed was a classic indication of...
A golden hand descended in front of the camera, claws spread like a spider, and another crackle pulsated through the audio.
...radiation.
Sunstorm, hovering over the camera on its hands and feet, opened his mouth and emitted a quiet hiss as he studied this unusual robot. It was no Decepticon. He couldn't detect a life sign from it and there was certainly no spark to be heard. It was a mindless machine which meant that it could only have come from that room. The room where Shockwave was hiding. Sunstorm let out another hiss and nudged the droid with its free hand in an attempt to get a response but the droid only slid a few centimetres and didn't do anything more.
The Rainmakers were getting more jumpy, more fleet of foot, as their processors wore more and more thin but to run from such a pathetic jumble of bolts such as this...
There was a CLANG! as Hotlink suddenly dropped down from nowhere right in front of the droid, his wings twitching excitedly as he produced a gargle of unintelligent noise.
What'cha get? New toy? Cans have it? Hotlink reached out a claw and patted at the top of the droid, looking even more pleased when the camera bot didn't move. Cans have it? Mine?
Sunstorm reached his hand to Hotlink, waving the other Seeker back with his radioactive heat. Not yours. Not yours. He then lowered his head and stared straight into the camera. Shockwave.
On the other end of the camera feed, the visual was flashing and pulsing from the mutated radioactive core that burned in Sunstorm's spark chamber and the audio was popping louder and louder but Shockwave could still see and hear everything. He stepped back from Sunstorm's critical red eye that now filled the camera.
Sunstorm was the Trine head of the Support Trine and Hotlink, the Seeker who had the unusual mutated ability to produce cyber-matter from his own energon lines, was Sunstorm's Right Wing. Bitstream, the third member of the trine, could be nearby but from what Shockwave could recall of that particular Seeker it wasn't a sure thing.
Bitstream's mutation gave him the phenomenal ability to hack virtually any computer on a scale that Soundwave could barely fathom, to the point where Bitstream could transfer his conscious AI to that of the computer itself, entering its mainframe on a personal level. The danger with that, of course, was that it was easy to 'lose' Bitstream.
If he wasn't with Sunstorm and Hotlink, he could be found at the nearest computer terminal. Shockwave was just about to mull over the idea of trying to find him when he suddenly realised that Sunstorm had pulled his head away from the camera to reveal the addition of yet more Seekers.
There was Bitstream - looking more interested in the lights above them than the actual droid. Alongside him was Nacelle, the Seeker with the mutated wings which didn't allow him to fly as well as the others could, the primary reason he had never formed a Trine back on Cybertron. He was the Safeguard for the Support Trine and to Shockwave's surprise, Nacelle was actually speaking.
"...-ming to investigate. Yes. I've come from that room to this corridor. Yes, I've done that. Interesting. Very interesting. Shockwave still making things. Yes. All very interesting. Yes..."
Shockwave started a little when he suddenly heard a scraping noise against his door. Red Wing was obviously getting bored of sitting there quietly with nothing to do. In the momentary distraction, Shockwave didn't notice that, on the camera feed, more red optics were emerging from the gloom of the corridor behind Nacelle and Bitstream, menacingly watching: an angry looking Wheezing Arrow, a shaky collection of Rainmakers, Dirge and Thrust who both looked like silent zombies and then Slipstream, purring away to herself.
"...-atching. Watching. Watching us. Yes..." went Nacelle's quiet self-narrative.
Slipstream was the last to approach. She was crouched on bended knees, her wings stretched back to balance her as she crept forward, tilting her head left and right as she eyed the camera lens suspiciously.
Is mine? Is mine? Hotlink was chittering.
Sunstorm had positioned himself further over the droid and the sudden flare of crackling caused Shockwave to return his attention to the screen, unsettled upon seeing the addition of the others.
Red Wing he knew to be outside his door still but he couldn't, however, see any sign of Ramjet or Starscream or Thundercracker or Skywarp. The camera did a 360 scope and revealed nothing except for the fact that Ion Storm was now shakily circling the droid and Slipstream was reaching out to poke it.
Ramjet's absence was unusual given that his two Trine members, Thrust and Dirge were here, staring out from beneath their domed heads. The fact that he could see nothing of the Elite Trine was more worrying still.
Were they commanding this mass data collection group from some hidden area?
As though to answer Shockwave's question, a long, eerie scream suddenly echoed down the corridor, rising and falling in pitch like some feral wolf howl.
The Seekers all lost interest in the intruder and turned in the direction of the call with their wings up, waiting for just a second before, as one, they all fled the area and vanished into the darkness beyond the droid's field of vision.
Off Shockwave went in pursuit, following the direction of the hallway until finally reaching the large door at the very end where, logically speaking, the Seekers must be hiding themselves away in.
Of course, Shockwave hummed to himself, where else would they keep themselves?
Starscream's quarters were large enough to comfortably house all of them so why would they need to go anywhere else?
Now that Shockwave was closer, he could hear a rhythmic metallic banging going on, a steady POUND! ... POUND! ... POUND! against something that was also metal. As the droid carefully approached the open door of Starscream's room, Red Wing suddenly appeared from nowhere, leaping over the camera and scuttling into the room.
Inside, Shockwave stopped and felt panic stream through every single system he had in his body.
The Elite Trine were presiding over the room on two legs while the rest of the Seeker team were crouched on spring-locked knees, waiting in silence.
Ramjet was with them. His mutation had been in his armour - it contained an additional chemical material that strengthened it to be virtually indestructible around his head and shoulders - which meant that Ramjet lived up to his name by being able to safely ram into other aircraft without fear of damaging himself.
At the moment, it appeared that the Seekers were putting him to work because the source of the metallic banging could now be identified; Ramjet had been throwing himself against the wall for Primus knew how long and the call from Starscream had been to say that they were almost through.
The leader of the Seekers turned steely red eyes towards the droid, smiling at the Decepticon who was hiding behind it who knew there was nothing he could do about their inevitable escape.
Cursing and swearing, Shockwave abandoned his computer console and warmed up his gun, unlocking the door and running out into the Nemesis. Even if the other Seekers were to flee, he HAD to keep Starscream here; Megatron would mince him if he found out he'd lost his First Lieutenant! If Starscream were still here then the other Seekers would eventually return, such was their nature.
Twisting and turning down the labyrinth of hallways, Shockwave skidded to a stop just shy of the threshold of Starscream's quarters and, finding them completely empty and incredible draughty from the gaping hole that Ramjet had punched through the wall, swore very loudly.
"So, in summary," Shockwave sheepishly reported, "they're out there somewhere. But the good news is that they're now able to fly so after enough time has passed, they'll gradually get back to normal."
"How long?"
"Until they're normal? It all comes down how long they've been grounded - which is approximately... 40 earth turns."
"40 days!?" Megatron cried, drawing attention to himself as the Autobots and Stunticons turned in his direction. He smiled and then lowered his voice. "We can't wait that long!" he hissed into the comms, "The Quintessons will have arrived by then!"
"...I don't know what to suggest, my Lord."
"I need them back, Shockwave," Megatron groaned, rubbing his face, "Do you understand me?"
"Sir," Shockwave warned him, "they're aggressive and territorial and incredibly dangerous to-"
"They're aggressive and what?"
"What?"
"Yes, aggressive and what?"
"Um... incredibly dangerous."
"Territorial?"
"Exactly what I meant. Yes, they're territorial."
The cogs in Megatron's mind began to click and crank as a plan started to form.
"...Stand by, Shockwave, until I contact you again." Closing the communication channel, Megatron turned back to Optimus with a scheming expression on his face. "I believe I have the beginnings of a plan," he announced, "I just need a little assistance in tracking down some rogue jet planes."
