Chapter 9

Deathsaurus took a step back to admire his work. At his feet with both arms still pinned within the jaws and talons of his pets was the once mighty Optimus Prime. He was a horrible and Energon leaking mess with his face plate all but bashed inward, part of his chest ripped opened, and he had a deliciously nasty gash running across his midsection. He was still alive, Deathsaurus wasn't quite finished toying with him, but he had long since slipped into stasis lock.

He called off his pets, and then he bent down and picked up hid prey by the throat with his one good hand.

"I don't know if you can hear me, false prime," he said with words dripping with wickedness, "but you can take heart in that your suffering is close to an end. I need now only decide how to finish you, and I intend to take my time."

With that, he let go, and Optimus once again sunk down onto the sand. Deathsaurus then retrieved his flail, and he studied Optimus intently. How did he want to finish him? Should he take his time and just beat him down to scrap metal? Or would he show a mercy uncharacteristic to himself and just rip out his still fluxing spark?

He was fixing to go with with the prior choice, but he stopped suddenly when he heard someone call his name. He looked back towards the complex, and he could see Starscream, Leozack, and Birdbrain of the Dinoforce storming towards him at great speed. As birdbrain boarded the ship, the two flyers rushed up to Deathsaurus, and he took note of the unconscious femme under Leozack's arm.

""I bring grave news to you, milord." The Decepticon lieutenant reported. "I fear our mission has ended in failure. The autobots have managed to send a distress call! Reinforcements are on the way!"

Starscream nodded in affirmation.

"We need to get out of here, or we'll surely be obliterated by an orbital assault!"

Deathsaurus, did his part, addressed this serious bit of news with a sort of threatening calm. Though his fact did not such as twitch, it was obvious that his unchanging expression bellied a horrible wrath.

"This level of failure, I would expect from someone like Starscream." He said while shooting a look at the flyer, causing him to squeak. "But you, Leozack, my dear second in command. You are meant to complete your objectives without fail. I am highly disappointed."

He tossed a glance towards the prone form of Optimus, and he hummed thoughtful.

"Never the less, the dinoforce have succeffully capture many that resides here and have tried them into the ship. I too shall be claiming a prize this day. Starscream, lift the blasphemer so that I may administer his final reward."

Starscream dutifully obey, and he heaved and hugged as he lifted Optimus up to a kneeling position. He too was disappointed. Not necessarily for the situation, though that did play a part, but more towards Optimus' defeat. The Autobot leader was a mess, and the most damage Starscream could see on Deathsaurus was that he had lost his right arm. Honestly, after all he had been through with Megatron, Optimus should have put up a better fight. Oh, well. At least he could one day go back to Planet Styx and gloat before his fellow Decepticons about his pivotal role in the death of Optimus Prime. With a few minor omissions, of course.

Meanwhile, Padlock had finally made it out of the complex and was fiercely looking about for his quarry. He then spied the unfolding scene, and his spark nearly ceased fluxing at the sight of the beaten to near death Prime. What was worse, his assailant, a one armed abomination that put Megatron's fearsome looks to shame, was raising his one good arm to finish the job. Padlock didn't have time to think. At his waist were all three flash bangs, and it was time to put them to good use. Offering one quick prayer to Primus, he unclipped the flash bangs, and he began to scream wildly as he charged into the scene.

Starscream was the first to see him, and his optics went wide when he saw the short green mech erupting into view.

"Mad bomber! Run!"

He let go of Optimus, who fell back and crashed into Leozack who, in turn, dropped Quicksilver. Deathsaurus backpedalled away and looked up, and Padlock seized the moment. He popped all three pins, and then he hurled the three explosives as hard as he could. All three went off in perfect succession, and there was a bright flash of light and sound. All three cons scatter and fell to the ground, crying out and clutching the sides of their heads in pain. Padlock raved past them quickly, and he dove to Optimus' side. He didn't have much time, so he quickly got to work covering Optimus' body with sand. Moving him certainly wasn't an option, so he could only hope he could bury him well enough to not be found. When he felt he had done a good enough job, he turned his sights on Quicksilver, and he scooped her up into his shoulders. If he was lucky, he would be able to get her inside. If he was lucky, the reinforcements he called for would arrive and blow the Decepticons to smithereens. If he was lucky, Wing Dagger would be alive and drag him and Quicksilver into another hair-brained adventure come the next morning.

Unfortunately, Padlock wasn't a lucky kind of guy.

The first sign that he was in big trouble was the powerful blow that struck him in the back and knocked him down. Then next thing he knew, he was snatched up off the ground by the throat, and he was brought face to face by the biggest Decepticon he had get see. He didn't look happy, not happy at all. The titanic tyrant cut his eyes front side to side, and then he brought Padlock closer.

"Where is he?" His tone spoke of murder. "What have you done with the false prime, Optimus?"

"Up your tailpipe and around your carburetor!" Padlock spat. It was a childish remark, but it was the best he could come up with. He had long since lost any and all sense of sanity.

At this time, Leozack has recovered, and he noticed the still unconscious form of Quicksilver. However, what had caught his attention was a compartment in her arm that had come open, and the tiny cylinder that was now lying in the sand. He trotted over, bent down,, and he picked it up. He identified it as an old data scroll. His optics slowly became brighter, and a smile carved its way across his lips. He raised a hand to get his master's attention, but he froze when a large shadow looked overhead. He looked up, as did Deathsaurus and Starscream, and they could all see a spaceship just within the planet's orbit. Leozack could hear Starscream squealing with fright, but he ignored him and took his place at his master's side.

"It would appear that the Autobot reinforcements have arrived." He said plainly. Deathsaurus said nothing. "Now, far be it from me to suggest it, my lord, but I think we should take up and go. Look at this."

He handed the scroll towards him, and Deathsaurus dropped Padlock to accept it. He opened it, and like his subordinate his optics brightened. He quickly tucked the scroll away, and then he kicked Padlock over to Leozack.

"Take him and the femme into the ship but put them into the isolation cells instead of the main prison hold. I'll have use for them later."

The decepticon second in command nodded his consent, gathered up the two hostages, and then started off for the ship with Starscream in tow. Deathsaurus then looked to the sky towards the autobot ship.

"I shall deal with this matter personally."

He cut loose with a guttural cry, and then he began to transform. The end result was that of a fearsome dragon. Kicking off, he took to the sky at an incredible rate of speed.

…...

Up above the planet's atmosphere, the autobot ship Destiny's Glory was perched and ready to dive in and attack. At the helm was none other than Ironhide, chief of all Cybertron's military. With him was science officer Perceptor, the nimble scout Bumblebee, and, finally, the faux talking Jazz.

"Status report!" the grizzled soldier barked.

From his chair, Bumblebee busily typed down on his console.

"Communications are still down." He called back. "This place is busted up like an old oil can on a Saturday night. Good grief! I almost don't want to see what caused all of this."

"You ain't trippin' there, dog." Jazz chimed in grimmly. "It almost looks like that time we invited Grimlock to karaoke night. Worst idea I've ever had, bar none."

"Belay the yap, you two." Ironhide growled. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us. Perceptor take us down!"

The red mech nodded, and he began to place the ship into a nosedive, but, suddenly, the bridge was painted red as a warning siren screamed to life. An instant second later, the entire ship rocked madly. Perceptor clung tightly to his seat, and as he looked to the console over his station his optics went wide.

"We have a two hull breaches, one in the bottom of the ship and the other in the top!"

"Sounds like a bullet just went through us." Ironhide grunted as he sat up in his chair. "What the frag was that?! Somebody, anybody, get it on screen!"

"Hold your dog tags, big red! Your man, Jazz, is on it."

A screen lowered from the roof, and an image began to take shape. As best as they could tell, it was a bestial shaped object zipping and weaving around the ship at incredible speed. It suddenly stopped short, opened its mouth, and then it sent a powerful burst of energy towards the ship, sending it rocking once again.

"Take evasive action!" Ironhide ordered as the ship convulsed and shook. "Jazz, activate weapons! Blow that thing to space dust!"

"You got it, boss bot!" Jazz said.

Along the outer hull of the ship, several turrets sprouted. At his station, Jazz concentrated on the screen before him as the targeting reticle traced after the flying object. As he zoomed in, he could make out a faint sign of purple. Another flyby later, he could finally see what it was.

"Guys. You ain't gonna believe this, but this creep's a Con!"

A stunned silence filled the bridge of the Destiny's Glory. Decepticon. For nearly six hundred billion years, it had been a word synonymous with fear, dread, despair, and especially fear. With the war over, many autobots, three on that very bridge in particular, had hoped to just put everything behind them and put away those that had surrendered. But, that didn't mean they hadn't reserved some measure of inhibition in regards to those that were still out there. Was this a psychotic former con out for revenge after such a long hiatus? Surely not.

"Bumblebee!" Ironhide barked after regaining his nerve. "Get on the long-range scanners! Figure out who this joker is!"

The yellow bot nodded. He once again typed furiously onto the console, and before long his sensors got a lock. As the readout came through, though, he frowned.

"This has to be a glitch. I'm not getting anything on this thing. No records, no history, not even a name: this guy is a ghost."

"You got that right, Bee!" Jazz growled through grit teeth as his weapons finally gained a lock. Without the slightest hesitation, squeezed the trigger, and several salvos of photon rounds were unloaded on his target, all hitting their marks.

"Hit confirmed!" Perceptor declared.

"I can see that, PC." Jazz grumbled. "But we got a problem. Look!"

Sure enough, the target was still floating there, looking not much worse for wear.

As for Deathsaurus himself, he gave himself a quick shake, and he scowled at the ship. He cursed his carelessness, and his wounds from his battle with Optimus were starting to fester, which only made him more irritable. What's more, he could hear on his commlink that his crew was taking off. He wanted to toy with these fools more, but he didn't have the time.

"Tigerttron! Airrazor! Disable their defenses!"

A section on his back opened, and the two minicons came roaring out and tearing towards the autobot ship. One by one, they began to take out the turrets, and Deathsaurus used the distraction as a chance to wind around behind the ship for a clean shot at the engines. There were four of them, two bunched together on either side of the ship. A weak design flaw that even he could detect. He set his sights on the left stabilizer, channeled a burst of energy into his throat, and then let it go. There was a brilliant explosion of light, and the two small engines were no more.

Back on the bridge, the four autobots had to cling to their seats as the Destiny's Glory lurched to the left.

"Primary engines one and two are gone!" Perceptor reported with heavy panic. "The left stabilizers are failing!"

"I've lost guns, too!" Jazz announced. "Dang minicons tore into them like an all you can eat buffet."

"I've got worse news, fellas." Bumblebee chimed in. "I just picked up an unidentified transport vessel leaving the planet's atmosphere. I'm detecting several autobot life signs onboard, and, fellas, one of them is Rung!"

"It must be the students from the accademy." Perceptor said with a gasp. "We must do something!"

"Oh, we'll be doing something, alright." Ironhide grunted grimly.

"And what is that?"

"Fall."

By then, the ship and her hapless crew had leaned too far into the planet's atmosphere, and now they were in a free fall for the planet's surface. The four autobots clung tightly to their stations as the ship began to spin madly, and Ironhide began barking orders in vain to try and get the ship under control.

On the ground, Ratchet was furiously digging Optimus' body out of the sand when he heard the whine of dying engines, and he looked up in time to see the large ship sail through the sky before crashing into the dune sea just beyond the compound. He just stayed there kneeling in the sand, staring off in the distance where they had crashed. At last, his face slumped, and he groaned.

"It's just one of those days."

…...

The first sensation he felt as consciousness reclaimed him was that of a bright light. He had to squint his optics for a moment, but then he could make out a large shape. The more his focus centered, the clearer the image became. Before long, he was looking up into the tired, but thankful looking, face of Ratchet. The old medic extended a finger over his eye, and a light came on from the tip.

"Dilation looks normal." He said with his usual, nonexistent cheer. "You look awful, Prime."

Optimus did his best to offer up a laugh, but instead it came out as a weak cough.

"You should...see the other guy."

"Oh, I got a good enough idea." Ratchet grumbled as he shut off the light and then elevated his patient's recharge slab so that he was at least sitting up. "After all, you should see what he did to Ironhide's ship."

Optimus' optics went wide.

"Ironhide?!"

"Relax, don't move! He's fine. So are Bumblebee, Perceptor, and Jazz. Apparently, they were already in the quadrant went the call went out. Their ship crashed, but they jumped just before impact. They're lucky to be alive."

Optimus did his best to move and try to get on his feet, but he had little to no strength in his battered limbs.

"The students! Prowl! What about them?! What about the one's that challenged Deathsaurus? Maybe some of them survived..."

"No, Prime. They didn't."

Optimus suddenly went rigid, and he looked at Ratchet. The old mech didn't meet his gaze, but his sadness seemed to waft through the air in waves. Optimus sunk back onto his slab, what little strength he had left just draining from his limbs.

"What about the students?" Optimus asked feebly. "Did any of them escape?"

Ratchet started to give his head a weary shake, stopped, and then rubbed the back of his neck.

"Besides Prowl, there was one, survivor, although that is a term I use very loosely. One of the three you sent to the ship to call for help took a powerful burst of plasma in the back while saving one of his comrades. Kinda reminded me of you, frankly. I've got him in the other room and stable, but, if I'm honest Prime, it doesn't look good."

It was with that final bit of news that the last of Optimus' hope died. His mind drifted back to his battle with Deathsaurus, and the tyrant's words once again echoed through his head.

"You alone are what I wanted, Optimus. Any that have perished here are not on my hands, but yours."

At first, Optimus had passed it off as a poetic excuse, but now, in the wake of all this death instruction, he truly saw the truth in those words. Had he never have come here, Deathsuarus would have had no reason to come here as well. Because of Optimus' carelessness, several innocent sparklings were either dead, captured, or critically wounded, and it was all his fault. The guilt quickly became like a crushing weight, and he placed a hand over his face as the despair began to mount.

"I wish to be alone." He finally said. "Please leave me, Ratchet."

The old medic nodded, and he started for the door.

"I'll come to check on you later." He promised, and then he vanished into the hall.

Waiting for him was the three of the four survivors of the Destiny's Glory, all of whom were wearing long frowns and other looks of disgust. Perceptor wasn't among them as he was investigating something he had found. When Ratchet came forward, Bumblebee was the first to address him.

"How is he?" He asked.

Ratchet gave his head a shake.

"He's stable, awake, and absolutely crushed. It's obvious he blames himself for all that's happened, and there isn't a thing in my doctor's bag that's gonna make that go away."

Ironhide rumbled with a snort.

"Well it sure ain't Prahm's fault this happened. I had Jazz do a quick sweep of the compound an hour ago. There wasn't any anti air defenses. No automated patrol drones. Heck, there aren't even any sprinklers in this rat hole for fires. This ain't no accident. Prowl had this place set up to be attacked."

Ratchet visibly flinched.

"Wait a minute! Now you guys aren't honestly saying that Prowl was in on this?"

Jazz shook his head.

"Nah, man, don't be buggin'. What big red is trying to say is that Prowl made it to where if they were attacked, the kids would have no choice but to fight. His way of doing on the job training, I suppose."

While somewhat relieved, Ratchet couldn't help but growl in his throat.

"Idiot! It's a good thing he's in a coma right now, otherwise I might kill him myself. All because he can't let things go."

"Doesn't look like he was wrong, though." Bumblebee muttered dejectedly, earning him everyone's attention. "He was right, I guess. The cons are back in full force, and we were caught with our pants down, and I don't even wear pants."

"Only these aren't decepticons!"

The group looked up, and they could see Perceptor rushing up to them. To their shock, he was carrying a dismembered arm.

"What the frag is that?" Ironhide asked, his voice carrying a small hint of disgust.

"And what's this about them not being cons?" Jazz added.

"This," Perceptor said while holding up the dismembered appendage for all to see, "is the arm of the bot that so fiercely damaged Optimus, as well as our ship. I found it when I was I was investigating the area where the enemy's ship had been. I was naturally intrigued by the metal that composed of the outer armor as it does not bare any semblance to any alloy I am familiar with. It's light, yet durable. Sturdy, yet flexible. I would simply love to get a hold of the smith who forged this marvel and learn the secrets of how it..."

"PERCEPTOR!" Ironhide bellowed, pulling the red scientist out of his excited chatter. "Would'ja mind wrapping this up? What's your point?"

Perceptor rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, and he offered his friends a smile.

"Sorry about that. It was all just so fascinating." He paused, and then his face became dark. "It is also, somewhat, terrifying. The armor plating is fairly new, but the arm underneath is literally ancient. I used the lab on Optimus' ship to carbonate it, and the results were staggering. This bot, whoever he was, is quite old. In fact, I'm quite certain he was forged during the age of the Thirteen Primes. The time before the first Golden Age."

His four comrades collectively gasped, and Bumblebee let loose a low whistle.

"That...is pretty dang old."

Jazz hummed thoughtfully.

"It doesn't seem possible, but that would mean he was from before the war. But if that's the case, why was he flying Decepticon colors."

"That's something else I was looking into." Perceptor said. "A sort of thesis I've been working on called "The Origins of the Decepticons". Megatron derived both name and his faction from Megatronus, the fallen prime and the first recorded Decepticon. However, Megatron wasn't the first to honor the fallen prime. In fact, all thirteen primes had a cult dedicated to them in one way or another, and all of them had a symbol. Ironically, the Autobot insignia belonged to Prima."

"So, wait a minute!" Ironhide suddenly cut in. "Are you telling me that this joker isn't a Decepticon like we've been fighting for billions of years, but is, instead, some kind of zealot of a long-forgotten cult?"

"In so many words, yes." Perceptor replied with a small shrug.

"Wonderful." Ironhide grumbled, and he began to pinch the bridge of his nose. "This whole screwball situation is starting to give me a processor ache. In spite of what we now know about that guy, we still no jack about who he is, where he came from, why he's here, and, more importantly, where he went with those kids."

None of them had an answer to that. After a long moment of silence and some contemplation, Ironhide sighed and he straightened his back.

"Ok, here's what we're gonna do. Bee, head down to Optimus' ship and get on the horn. Call for any and all Autobots that are free and able to help. We're gonna need it. Jazz, Perceptor, I want the two of you to scour this place from top to bottom. I don't care how small it may be, if you think it's evidence pick it up. We meet back in the courtyard after any and all reinforcement arrives, and maybe by then either Prime will be back on his feet, or I'll have a genuine idea of what to do. Roll out!"

"Roll out!" The three bots chimed in unison, and they set out to fulfill their duties.

This left Ironhide and Ratchet alone in the hall, with nothing but the faint sound of the medical equipment in Optimus' room filling the air. Eventually, Ironhide, too, started down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Ratchet asked.

Ironhide stopped, and he looked back to the old medic.

"Later on, I'm going to help Jazz and Perceptor look for evidence."

"But right now?" Ratchet pressed.

"I'm going to pray. I've never really been the religious type, you know, but if just one of these new cons could tear through bots like Prowl and Optimus, and then rip through a space cruiser with one arm missing, then I think we're gonna need all the help we can get."

Ratchet could only nod and let the bot go on his way. When he was alone, he slumped up against a wall and placed a hand over his face. Everything was happening too fast, and he was slowly losing his grip on things. Optimus was a mess, physically and psychologically, four of his closest friends had nearly bought it, another friend had clearly lost his mind, and he was possibly gonna have to call one of his favorite students after millions of years without seeing her to tell her that her little boy may not be coming home. In many ways, it was more than he could bare.

"I'm just getting too old for this scrap." He muttered, and then he sunk to the floor...and he began to cry.