First of His Name

by peteynorth

NOT a cross-over, but a retelling of the Transformers story set in a more Game of Thrones styled society, where your station in life is dictated by the hot spot that spawned you. The lives of a disgruntled miner from Tarn, a belligerent gladiator from Simfur, ambitious royals, a newborn foundling, and many others interweave to give rise to the worlds and the war we all know.

11. Chapter 11

Sea Clamp

It had been centuries since he had last been here, centuries since he had seen another Cybertronian. Even his 'brood', as he referred to them, had been avoided for that time. They had been avoiding each other on and off for over 11 millennia, since the destruction of Atlantida and the end of the last Beast War. There were presumed dead by the victorious Maximals, and not being nearly as zealous about their cause as Cryotek or Magmatron before them, they decided to let the victorious Maximals continue with that presumption through the end of time if possible. They were already nearly impossible to detect in their deoxyribonucleic acid-mimicking shell modes…unless spotted visually by an individual who happened to know the correct sizes of the animals they were mimicking, so it was easy for them to simply vanish and remain vanished on this large and vastly uncharted world. They had agreed to move what little Cybertronian tech they had managed to recover to one of the thus far undiscovered continents in the western hemisphere…only to discover that the humans of Asia had arrived in this new world a few thousand years before and had spread throughout much of both continents. But they were frail, flesh and bone, and their technology was and would continue to be a joke for many millennia to come. Hell, it was still a joke; they had yet to leave the confines of their own planet. So, deep in this swampland, the Everglades as the humans currently in this region called them, they felt safe in keeping their little base of operations.

But further precautions needed to be taken, one of which was to refrain from meeting unless necessary, which barring the occasional meetings to keep the isolation from driving them insane, they had adhered to. Sea Clamp had assumed it would be at least another century before one of his comrades, probably Cicadacon, would feel the itch and request a meeting, so the summons, one that sounded more official than their situation would seem to warrant, caught him off guard. The giant lobster finally breached the surface, causing an alligator sunning itself on a nearby stretch of dirt to shift and consider attacking the intruder. The beast glared at the lobster, unsure of what to make of the potential threat, but eventually let the giant crustacean glide along unmolested.

A few minutes later he himself had reached the muddy shore he had traveled over a thousand miles to get to and transformed, walking through the thick brush, snapping limbs and disrupting the landscape. Ideally he would try to get through with minimal evidence of his presence, but given his sixteen foot metal frame, there was no avoiding a mess. He pushed through the thick brush until finally reaching the cave mouth leading downward into the ground, and proceeded downward, needing to crouch as he did so. After a quarter mile of darkness he finally emerged into a dark, dank cavern and felt the familiar tingle as he entered the presence of his two dearest, and last remaining friends. He looked upon their hideous faces and smiled. "Brothers, it is good to see you again."

The green and white robot, the smallest of the three at thirteen feet in height, nodded and replied tersely. "We expected you days ago, Sea Clamp."

"It's a big ocean, Cicadacon, and some of us don't have wings." Sea Clamp grumbled back.

"I can't fly, and didn't have any problem getting here on time." The monstrous looking fourteen foot tall purple-brown robot snapped.

"You live in Honduras, it's a short trip for you, Ramhorn. Newfoundland to Florida is a bit of a haul." The purple newcomer replied with annoyance before turning back to Cicadacon. "Why are we here?"

"You remember when we set up this facility that we decided the one bit of tech we'd keep operational was the communications scanner, right?" Cicadacon asked, suppressing excitement. He waited for a nod from Sea Clamp before continuing. "Well, several days ago an extraterrestrial signal breached the planet's atmosphere and was received somewhere in the polar region."

"The Axalon!" Sea Clamp all but shouted.

"I can't replay the original message, but I was able to decipher the encryption code used and configure the equipment so that it would receive and decrypt any future incoming transmissions." Cicadacon explained.

"So we just wait and hope for another phone call?" Sea Clamp asked, his excitement draining from his voice.

"That phone call came in this afternoon." Ramhorn replied. "If you'd have arrived much later we'd have had to leave without you."

"Leave without me?" Sea Clamp asked, once again excited.

Cicadacon reached over to the ancient communications array and activated it. An unknown voice emanated from the speakers. "Polar Claw, come in."

Shrugging, Cicadacon reached over and pressed another button. "Gonna fast forward a bit; it was over an hour before the furry lunk finally replied. I guess he was out playing in the snow or something."

With another push of a button the recorded conversation continued through the speakers, this time the voice was one they all recognized. "Polar Claw here, who's calling?"

"Hello Polar Claw, this is Atrium of the Crystal City again." The unknown voice replied seconds later.

"Still going with Atrium, huh?"

"For now that would be best, though, well, we can discuss my plans in person."

"In person?" Polar Claw gave a surprised chuckle. "You comin' here? 'Cause the ol' Axalon hasn't been functional since the first war two hundred forty thousand years ago."

"Yes, I'll be coming to you." The voice replied. "And if you so desire, I can return to Cybertron with you and your crew. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and a return home is long overdue."

"The Maximals will be thrilled to hear it, though I'm not sure we're ready for that." Polar Claw replied with hesitant excitement. "You said Cybertron wasn't ready to know the truth. Are you telling me that you accomplished in a few days what you couldn't do in the million years that preceded them?"

There was a long pause. "No, Cybertron is still not ready, but it is time for it to be made ready, forcefully if necessary." This Atrium replied. "I need to retrieve the Matrix, there is one who is finally worthy of it, and he will usher in a truly golden age, regardless of what happens to me."

"Oh for smelt's sake," the annoyed Maximal grumbled, "another one of your chosen ones? From what I hear you said the same Primus-damned thing about Guardian Prime!"

"I was wrong with Gallus Honorum." The other voice conceded. "I'm not wrong now."

"Why, because this guy talks pretty? He has just the right combination of smarts and strength and charisma? He treats commoners well, almost as equals despite steadfastly maintaining the status quo?" Polar Claw grumbled back. "Sorry, even back in my youth I wasn't one to follow a guy simply because he was favored by a trinket. I don't follow someone simply because he's called a Prime. The only ones I've ever followed were Backstop and House Convoy; why they seemed to have vouched for you, I'll never know."

A light laughter was heard. "I appreciate your cynicism, but I have a feeling that once you lay optics upon him, you will feel the urge to follow this Prime who was promised. I can't explain how or why, but, well, if nothing else, he has a look that you and your crew will respond to."

"What the hell does that mean?" Polar Claw growled.

"I will explain everything in person. Where should I land?" The voice asked.

"When are you coming?"

"I have a few more arrangements here on another colony world, but don't expect them to take long." The voice answered. "I should leave within a few hours."

"Alright, touch down on the outskirts of a small town called San Antonio, New Mexico in the United States of America." Polar Claw replied. "They've been doing some nuclear testing less than 30 miles from there, so any radiation residue from your entry shouldn't seem suspicious, and it's remote enough so that you shouldn't be noticed. I also have a couple operatives in the vicinity who can reconnoiter with you and navigate a path to me that will avoid detection."

"Alright, notify them to expect me." The voice replied. "I'll be there in a few hours."

"Will do…Atrium." Polar Claw's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he said the name, and Cicadacon switched off the recording.

"When did that come in?" Sea Clamp asked with excitement and worry mixed in his voice.

"Just under three hours ago." Ramhorn replied.

"Three hours ago?" Sea Clamp all but yelled. "There's no way we can get to New Mexico in time!"

"Eh, normally yes," Ramhorn chuckled, "but about two hundred years ago I came across one of the Dinosaur's old attack probes, and against my better judgement I brought it back here."

"The moment I got that first message I knew that should another message come through, we might have to get somewhere else on this planet quickly, so I started reconfiguring it to a shuttle." Cicadacon continued.

"A very small, cramped shuttle." Ramhorn interrupted.

"Yes, but one that will fit the three of us." Cicadacon explained forcefully.

"OK, then we might have a chance," Sea Clamp replied uneasily, "but you still should have headed out before. He may have arrived already."

"It had to be all three of us." Ramhorn came back. "I mean, what chance would only two of us have?"

"But with the three of us," Cicadacon displayed a frightening grin, "that ship is ours."

"OK, got it, but we need to get the hell out of here now!" Sea Clamp pressed, eliciting nods and a heading to the back of the cave where the retro-fitted probe likely was.

Pinion

He don't like this. This not copacetic, no matter what the Gar say. This one bein' so big. This one bein' so hard. This one's parts really stuck together, they don't come apart. And he shiny, so shiny. The other off-worlder say he young, so that kinda explain the shiny. Weird seeing someone actually young; like, for real young. There be protoforms in da' vault, they awaken one whenever one of the Zens gets themselves killed by mistaken, or killed by another Zen. Population control, that what the Gar and his Lo-Gars be sayin'. But this one, this big, hard, shiny one, he be born right from the ground of the Cybertron, the source of all the Junk-folk and folk of other colony lands. The Gar, he tell Pinion to watch over this one, to make sure he secure and content, he even use the old words when talking in front of the other off-worlder, the propah-talk. Pinion no like it, but Pinion 'tent; Pinion do bidding. The slab contentable, the room securish, the scary shiny robot continue to sleep.

Scary robot safe. Pinion not safe. Scary robot so big, so hard. He off-worlder, off-worlders hate Junk-folk. And he have fancy off-worlder name. He high born say older Junk-folk who hear name. Pax. 'Pax royal', they say. He here to re-estab the old way, the way of the caste. No Gar or Lo-Gars, just royals and nobles. Gar make decisions, but really he just another Zen like everyone else. He do a bad job of Garring, the Zens pick new Gar. But Gar do great job, no bad decisions…not 'til now. Now royal Pax here, he re-estab the old ways, ways thrown away before protoform Pinion brought to life. Pinion born low, all Junk-folk born low, royal way mean they no longer Zens, just peZens; royal way mean they like slaves.

Pinion high regard the Gar, but this bad. This not copacetic.

"Ughn."

Big shiny robot move, big shiny robot waking up. Pinion gonna be hurt. Big shiny robot gonna dismantle Pinion. Pinion no delight dismantling, Pinion no delight reassembling. Some Junk-folk like reassembling, but some Junk-folk be under-sane. Pinion sane, so Pinion be the scared. Big scary Pax turn head and look at Pinion. Pretty shiny optics blue like copper benzoate powder, fancy helmet color of copper sulfate pentahydrate crystals, face silver and without patch or gash. He fresh, and now he awake and looking at Pinion. He now sitting up. "Lax self, off-worlder."

"I beg your pardon." He say, Pinion hate the propah talk.

Pinion point at shiny Pax-bot. "You, off-worlder. Lax self, no clash wit' Pinion. No ruckus from the Pax."

Pax bot stare at Pinion, but he nod like he 'stands. "No ruckus from the Pax." He smile, mouth pretty and blemish-not. "I've gotten used to waking up in unknown surroundings with unknown people."

Propah talk tricky, words same or like-same, but ordered-dissed and fan-cee. Not mean cee like pretty, like Gar's conjux Nan called Nan-cee, but old word, so Pinion say. It propah talk, Pax-royal speak propah, so Pinion try do the propah talk. "Me Pinion. Pinion to take you to the Gar. But Pax royal to be secure. Pax royal to be content. Pinion 'tent, so Pax be these things, right?"

Again, Pax royal seem confused, but figure. "Yes, I am secure and I am content. But I'm confused."

"Pinion not know to fix confused, just have make secure and content."

"Of course." Pax smile, it almost make Pinion not be the afraid…almost. "What is this Gar you're taking me to?"

"He being the fore-bot o' da' Junk-folk. A Zen like rest o' we, but he make cisions." Pinion losing da' afraidness, Pinion need remindin' that calmness be when da' royal goin' ruckus.

"A democratically chosen leader taken from within their own ranks?" If Pinion not knowin' better, da' off-worlder would seem 'pressed. Pretty mouth stretchin smilin'. "That's…yes, please take me to this Gar."

Pinion might be survivin'. Get to Ah-deance Chamber quick 'nuff then not alone; Gar protect. Go through hall, off-worlder checkin' evrahthing. Look out window, he look saprized. He know he bein' on Junk, righty? He bein' royal, this bein' colony, he knowin' he bein' here. Make it to Ah-deance Chamber, Gar bettah be inside. Open doors, all thanks to da Primus's Hands, there he bein, da' Gar. He fix dis! Pinion no longer needin' ta bein' afraid. Though Pinion not so much bein' afraid o' da' off-worlder no more. "Mighty Gar, Pinion here wid' the off-world Pax-bot."

"Preciation to you Pinion, please have a seat." Da' Gar smile at Pinion, he know Pinion 'tent. "Orion Pax, please take a seat as well." Propah talk, and he point to chair in before hisself. Pinion hope Gar know what he do. Pinion seat self, see Pax-bot sit front the Gar. "You are a lot calmer than I was expecting you to be."

Pax-bot nod an' do pretty smile. Pinion 'zire femmes, but 'ven Pinion think it look cee. Maxkulin, but cee still. "As I explained to Pinion, this isn't the first time I've been knocked out and woken up somewhere unknown. The last time I reacted aggressively to those who were helping me, so this time I figured I'd get my bearings before I decided not to be calm." Da' Gar be laughter at dat. "That said, I am a little…vexed by my last memories prior to waking up, and if Roller Pax or A-Three are around, I would really like to have a word with them."

Da' Gar smile and Gar up 'n down shake head like he know. Gar do know, Gar be smart. "I'm afraid neither of them are on this planet."

"This is the Planet of Junk, isn't it?" Off-worlder say, pratendin' like he figger out, which 'ceivin', 'cause Pinion tellin' off-worlder us Junk-folk. "I've read legends of it, but there's precious little about this world in any of the records I've come across."

"Yes, this is Junk." Gar do splainin'. "I am Wreck Gar. I lead these people, with their consent. Before leaving, Atriu…err, A-Three explained to me what an Autobot is, and that you're one of them, so despite having a royal name you would not be offended in any way by this concept."

"On the contrary, I'm impressed and envious of such a system." Stoopit off-worlder propah talk.

"Well, beyond our penchant for allowing the governed to pick who governs them, what do you think of your former colony world?"

"Based on the two minutes I've had to evaluate the inside of one of its buildings?" Off-worlder give cee smile again. "Well, it's quite cold, and I'm from Polarus. And while it's really not an issue to me, as not being organic I'm not genetically pre-disposed to be repulsed by the smell of rot," Pinion hate propah talk, "but, well, there's rot in the air. Lots of it."

Gar laughter again. "If you find the temperature and the air distasteful, wait until you try our sustenance."

"Oh?" Off-worlder 'fused, but seemin' ta figger sumthin. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't have access to energon."

"No. With the right energy sources one can synthesize a very close approximation of the element." Gar smart. "Unfortunately, we're too far from our star to really utilize solar power, and are resigned to using what fuel scraps we can scavenge from the junk on the planet. We refine it into a substance we lovingly refer to as swill, and it's sufficient to sustain us, but it'll take you some time to get used to it. In fact, I'd wait until you're almost out of the energon currently in your system, otherwise the taste of the swill might force you to regurgitate the pure energon you have in you out onto the floor."

"If it'll keep me from starving, I'll be more than grateful." Off-worlder seem 'insere, but it act. Royal bein' too good for swill. "I hope my rations aren't cutting into those of your people at all."

"Ha!" Pinion 'prized. Serious stuff, swill rationin', not ta' bein' laughterin'. "A-Three is paying for your keep. Dropped off enough pure energon to feed five Junkions for a vorn. We'll cut it into swill, higher grade swill than we're used to, but it'll be enough to feed thirty Junkions for five vorns. Don't worry, your swill rations come guilt-free."

"Glad to hear it, though I'm not sure that's enough to let A-Three and Roller off the hook." Off-worlder kinda serious 'gan. Pinion see A-Three, but there bein' no Roller wid'.

"Do you think their act malicious?" Gar wid' propah talk.

"Abducting me and getting me off Cybertron." Pax head side-side twistin'. "I know they think they're protecting me; acting in my best interest, but this is still a clear violation of my rights and my trust."

"Your rights? You know you're a fugitive, don't you? You have no legal rights on Cybertron."

"We're not talking about actions taken by Sentinel Prime or Prowl, this is my family."

Gar nod, he feelin' off-worlder. Even Pinion bein' feelin' off-worlder, 'ven though off-worlder danjrus. "Family, huh?" Gar bein' starin' at off-worlder. "You don't look like a Pax. They tend to have kind of a U-shaped thing on their post-protoformal helmet. You get that helmet redesigned? It's pretty fancy."

"No, this is how the metallico naturally took shape."

Gar 'fused, smile stretchin' stache after 'fusion seem ta' leave. "You just look like this naturally? No alterations?"

Off-worlder shruggin'. "Wheels, motors and alterations to my shell mode, but really nothing done to impact by bot mode much. I guess A-Three didn't mention, I'm not really a Pax. I was found by Torenia Pax, she took me in. There's no reason that I should resemble any of them physically. But know that I hold their values as much as if I truly did crawl out of the pool at Tyger Pax."

Gar thinkin' hard, optics bein' distancy. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

"Aye, it is." Off-worlder serious. "Those are as much my words as any Pax."

Gar be noddin' again, he be smilin' like he be figirin' somthin'. "I've always been partial to 'The defense of freedom requires the dedication of the mighty'. Very similar, but less a stating of fact, more a call to action."

"Yes, I know those words as well, A-Three's education was fairly thorough." Off-worlder smart. Not Gar smart as, but smart. "Arlon sometimes talked of House Convoy to me as well; seemingly apropos of nothing. He'd find me alone, smile as he stared at me, and then tell me that they were the influence of many of the Knights of Cybertron, as well as the houses those Knights established. In particular House Pax."

Gar losin' smile. "I was deeply moved when A-Three told me of Arlon Pax. Please know that you have my deepest condolences. He was…he was one of the good ones." Gar bein' sad now, Pinion 'sposin this Arlon Pax been gottin' self killed.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Off-worlder lean, look 'tently to Gar. "So A-Three dropped me off here. Did he provide any timeframe for when he'd come get me?"

"He did not. Just that the powers that be on Cybertron seek your death, and that I am to keep you safe." Gar bein' smilin' at off-worlder. "I suggest you make yourself at home."

Elita Solus

"So when do you leave?" Elita stared ahead into the crowd before them, hearing Chromia's question directed to their friend Glyph, but not really paying attention to it.

The nine-foot tall blue and silver robot was bubbly as she replied. "Next week. I've wanted to explore the fossil-fields of Nyon since I was a protoform, and I'm finally able to do so!" The spirited little robot darted ahead a few steps, turned on her two companions forcing them to stop, and grinned broadly. "And best of all, Tap-Out gets to come with me!"

"That's wonderful!" Chromia gushed, turning to gauge Elita's reaction and noting with sadness that her friend's focus was somewhere else.

Elita noted the two femmes looking at her and she shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry Glyph, that truly is wonderful news. I'm just…there's,"

"No need to explain, Lady Elita." Glyph replied. She then turned to Chromia. "No word?"

"Nothing." Chromia answered sadly.

"Well…that's probably a good thing." Glyph stated, lacking certainty. "I mean, if they'd caught him, it'd be all over the newsfeeds. The fact that we've heard nothing would make it seem that he's safe, just laying low, as he should be."

Elita nodded. "I know. I…I just…" she turned her head away from them. "I hate what I've become. I should be out there, helping him, standing beside him, fighting for a just cause. A cause that I knew to be just, but that required me to see his example for me to fully acknowledge to be worth fighting for. And now, even though I know he's right; that the Autobots are right, I still just sit here safely within the borders of Axiom, walking the street of Hyperious as if nothing's changed, allowing close friends to refer to me as 'Lady' Elita. Some Autobot."

"My La…Elita, look, I AM a commoner, and while I bear him no romantic feelings, I am terrified for him as well. The fact is that were it not for Officer Pax, I would either be dead or a slave right now." Chromia grabbed her friend by the arm and spoke intently. "So believe me, my feelings for both Orion and his cause are extremely strong. But there's nothing for us to do. If he contacted you and requested help, do you think you would hesitate for a moment to provide that help and more? Of course not!"

Elita shook her head. "He shouldn't need to ask! I love him, Primus help me I love him. For most of my life I considered the idea of conjux endura or any sort of romantic relationship to be silly stupidity intended to give the emotionally weak something to latch onto. And then I met some post-protoform and all I could think of was how beautiful, and strong, and brilliant, and infuriating he was. And I got to know him over the span of a few months, and all those things still remained, but added were wonderful, and kind, and noble, and courageous, and selfless, and thoughtful, and…" she whipped away, "I love him! He's out there, he's hunted, he's possibly hurt, he's possibly dying, and I'm here. I love him, and he could die never having heard me tell him so!" She covered her face. "I'm such a coward!"

"You are not!" Glyph snapped. "A fugitive can't help Orion Pax, but a Lady in a royal house can. It's not fear keeping you from charging off to find him, it's practicality!"

"And even if you did charge off to find him, you'd either fail to find him, or you'd lead Prime's forces right to him." Chromia added. "Face it Elita, the Autobots know what they're doing."

'BOOM!'

All was black for a moment, but Elita's optics quickly flickered and tried to make sense of what had just happened. She was on the ground, her front side was hot, painfully so, but not so intense as to be incapacitating. She propped herself up to her elbows and looked around. Chromia was on the ground next to her, twisting and groaning, meeting her confused stare with one of her own, but she seemed alright. Glyph was at their feet, face down on the ground, but twisting and moving as well. A moment later she looked up, confusion and fear in her optics as well, but like with Chromia, she seemed not to be injured beyond mild scorching on her back. Elita looked forward, past Glyph toward the heart of the marketplace to try and ascertain what had just happened.

I took her a moment to figure anything out, but she soon realized that an explosion down the street had thrown them all to the ground. Elita's auditory sensors were ringing, but as it started to subside the sounds of screaming cut through everything. She looked up toward the marketplace they had been walking towards, through the slowly falling light debris and took in the bodies spread out all over the street. She immediately jumped to her feet and charged toward the center of the chaos, trying to pinpoint those that needed help most urgently. She made it to where she guessed the epicenter of the blast to have originated from, and noted that of the dozens of frames closest to the area, there were no survivors. She worked her way out, cognizant but undeterred by the likelihood of further blasts, and began grabbing those that were still alive and carefully moving them out to the front of a shop that would serve as a triage center. "Chromia, help me bring the wounded here! Glyph, contact the authorities and alert them to the emergency. Then contact Exponum One and let him know that House Solus's doctors and medical resources are needed here immediately! Do it!"

Elita spearheaded an effort that quickly grew, soon nearly all those that had escaped the blast with no or minimal injuries were assisting those that hadn't been so lucky. Elita charged into a store that had sustained a huge degree of damage, and found another survivor, the femme's left leg blown off and the energon leaking out of her profusely. As Elita gripped the woman she looked up at the scorched wall and froze as her optics rested on a familiar face. The face of the common man. And beneath the scorched image were words. 'Time is up, Cybertron! Either you're with us, or you're against us!'

Wolfang

The large wolf continued to stare up into the sky, but was aware of the heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. He finally turned and looked at the approaching bison, his panting mouth making it look as though the canine was smiling.

The bison nodded and broke cover, or at least would have were there anyone else around to break cover to. "Fang, been awhile."

"Six months, I hardly call that awhile." The wolf muttered before turning back to the sky. "So how have you been this past half year, Bonecrusher?"

"Eh, can't complain. Haven't been shot at in forty years and counting, a record since the melanin-deprived primates started moving west across this continent." The bison replied.

"They're called humans."

"I don't care. They're primates who don't even know they're primates." Bonecrusher grumbled.

"I think you're going to miss those primates when we leave."

"First of all, I'm pretty sure your optimism is misplaced, Wolfang." The bison looked up into the sky as well. "Secondly, even if we do get off this slaggin' mudpile, it's not the humans that I will miss. Blood thirsty butchers."

"All of them?"

"Enough of them." Boncrusher clarified. "Especially the European-descended supplanters. At least with the Asian-descended primates they killed only what they needed, and they made use of almost everything. That, and the arrows were actually fun to shrug off. Bullets don't hurt, but they're tough to dig out of the nanite dermis."

"Well maybe they're changing. After all, you said you haven't be shot at in four decades." The canine turned and grinned at the bison.

"Up your butt, dog." The bison grumbled back.

"I wish I was a dog. K-9 has it easy." Wolfang turned back to the sky. "Bison aren't the only thing humans shoot at. Believe me, I know exactly how annoying bullets are to dig out." The dog squinted as he peered into the distant sky. "Be ready, whoever is coming is here."

"I'm always ready." The bison replied as he also caught site of the descending craft. A few minutes later the ship was touching down on the rocky ground.

A door slid open and out walked a twenty-one foot tall robot in red, blue and purple coloration, metal resembling facial hair over and under his mouth. He stared at the two animals for a moment. "Hello?"

The two animals looked at one another before transforming, the wolf into an eleven foot tall predominantly blue and silver robot, the bison into an eighteen foot tall white and black robot, and both with large portions of their alt-mode fur on display. "You here to take us home?" Bonecrusher stated more than asked.

"Yes, but I have work to do first." The tall robot replied.

"Told you not to get your hopes up." Bonecrusher muttered to Wolfang. "So who are you, anyway?"

"My name…for now my name is Atrium." The older robot replied. "I hail from the Crystal City of Uraya."

"I just wanted your name, I don't give a shit about your life story." Bonecrusher grumbled back.

"So what do you need to get done before we go home?" Wolfang asked.

"I need to retrieve something from the Manifest." The old robot replied, eliciting a laugh from the two Maximals.

"The Manifest?" Bonecrusher snarled.

"You do know it's at the bottom of the Atlantic, right?" Wolfang explained.

"I just traveled across the galaxy," the robot replied, "a few miles of water shouldn't be too hard to traverse."

"Eh, he's got a point." Bonecrusher quipped to his comrade, then looked at the craft. "Not sure that thing will fit all of us."

"Polar Claw provided me with a headcount when we spoke several days ago. It will be tight, but we will be able to accommodate all of you." Atrium replied.

"What do you need out of the Manifest?" Wolfang asked, growing suspicious.

Atrium looked down. "I cannot divulge that at this time."

"What?" Bonecrusher grumbled.

As Atrium considered how to explain himself, Wolfang chimed in. "Look, Atrium of the Crystal City, you're not the only one to have recently spoken to Polar Claw. He informed me that you were the one that set the Convoys, and by extension, us on this…mission, if that's what you want to call it. Something that was supposed to be little more than baby-sitting for a little while turned into three wars claiming the lives of more than half of our crew and a stay on this planet that has gone on for a million years. We're now sharing the planet with an indigenous species that is not only aggressive, but that has increased their weapons capability at a nearly exponential rate over the last millennia, to the point where they now have nuclear capabilities. So you're here telling us that you have an errand to run on the ship that we've sacrificed so much to keep everyone off of, that you can't tell us what you plan to do on that ship, and expect us to sit back and take your words at face value. Well sir, in the words of the hairless primates, go fuck yourself."

"I…I recognize your hesitance," A-Three started to explain.

"Oh, sorry Atrium, but my friend told you to go fuck yourself, and it looks to me like you haven't started doing that yet." Bonecrusher interrupted.

"Look, I know you've sacrificed, and I know I've let you down. I realize I have a great deal to answer for to a great many individuals, and none more so than you Maximals." An agitated A-Three spat back. "But please know that what I plan to do is of the utmost importance." He stared at them, quickly realizing they weren't budging on the issue. "Alright, you have more than earned a right to know. I wish to retrieve the Matrix from the ship."

The two Maximals turned and looked at each other before turning back to Atrium. "Wait, you not only want to enter the Manifest, but you want to enter Guardian Prime as well?" Wolfang asked.

"The bearings on this guy." Bonecrusher stated, almost laughing.

"What if Guardian Prime is still alive?" Wolfang continued. "What if you wake him up? I mean, it's possible he's still in stasis. Granted, it's a longshot, but if he was able to wake up from whatever mickey you slipped him and make some preparations energy-wise, he could have found a way to survive. Hell, maybe it's both he and Galvatron? Maybe the whole damn crew? What then? Legend has it that those two had green sparks. Do you have a green spark?" They smiled as Atrium shook his head in a negative fashion. "Then if they're alive and you awaken either of them, you'll get shredded."

"And we'll have to explain to the rightful and beloved ruler of Cybertron why we simply sat on him and blocked every attempt to rescue him." Bonecrusher added.

"Believe me, when I open up Guardian Prime, he, Galvatron, Jhiaxus and every other member of that command crew will be dead." Atrium replied.

Wolfang chuckled. "Oh, so you plan to snuff any sparks that aren't already snuffed, is that it? Look, I have no respect for the nobility system, and I'm not one to pay much attention to the title of Prime, but I do know that someone more significant than Atrium of the Crystal City needs to be the one to decide whether Guardian Prime lives or dies. Big Convoy didn't give the order to kill him, Lio Convoy didn't give that order, and neither did Primal Convoy, so Atrium's right to do so is blurry to say the least."

"And what of Primon's?" The newcomer asked. Noting the look of surprise on both of their faces, he nodded. "Feel free to verify with Polar Claw, he knows who I am."

"Primon the Abdicator?" Bonecrusher asked.

"Primon the first Prime?" Wolfang added. "Yeah, we're asking Claw, that's for sure."

"Well then, let's get on board and you can lead us to him." The one calling himself Primon stated, turning toward the ship as he did so, but before he could take a step a missile impacted his chest, the explosion sending his smoldering frame bouncing across the rocky desert landscape.

The Maximals turned to see a giant cicada hovering over a giant beetle and a giant lobster a hundred yards away. "What, no, they're dead! They went down with Atlantis!"

"We'd love to play a bit with you two," the cicada snapped, "but after more centuries than we care to count, we're not going to piss away an opportunity to get off this backward planet."

"No, stop 'em!" Bonecrusher yelled out, but by the time they got their weapons out the reconfiguration was already in motion. By the time their first shots impacted their merging target, the locking mechanisms were already latching into place, and therefore, the energy given off by the multi-spark all but repelled the ordinance. Standing fifty feet in height was a horrific monstrosity that they had not laid optics on in over eleven thousand years. "Primus, no. Tripredacus." The Maximal whispered.

The giant beast reached down and grabbed what looked to be a modified probe, and effortlessly flung the craft, hitting Bonecrusher and driving him into a wall of rock a few dozen yards behind them. Wolfang fired repeatedly at the aberration, this mad experiment that had been freed by Magmatron one hundred fifty thousand years ago, knowing the attempt would be futile. The Maximal turned to his comrade and the stranger calling himself Primon and barked out. "Get up and help me with this thing!"

"There is no aid, Maximal!" Tripredacus roared as he started running toward them, covering the distance in a few strides. But he was quickly being peppered with more ordinance from the now-standing Atrium…or Primon, whatever.

"So Jhiaxus succeeded in this mad scheme as well." The old robot, his chest smoking, growled as he maintained fire on the monstrosity. "How did he achieve the instantaneous increase in mass?"

"Not sure." Wolfang replied as he dove away from a stomp, tucking and rolling. "Rhinox explained it to me once, basically the merging of their sparks gives off an insane amount of energy, some of which is converted to matter."

"That human, Alberstein," Bonecrusher grumbled as he pushed the probe off of him and re-entered the fight.

"Albert Einstein." Wolfang corrected as he continued his strategy of firing and dodging.

"Whatever!" Bonecrusher growled. "He figured out the equation illustrating the concept. Granted, the fleshlings have only managed to get the matter-to-energy part working,"

"As evidenced by the high rad-count of this area." Wolfang added.

"But if organics with one vorn lifespans can figure out that much, it makes sense Jhiaxus would not only figure out how to do it in the other direction, but manage to implement it in a practical fashion."

"You mean weaponize it." Atrium snarled as he too was forced to jump away from the giant's attempted strike. "How do we stop it?"

"With the other guinea pigs Magmatron dug out!" Wolfang yelled in response. "We recruited them to our side, but one's like a thousand miles north of here, which is too far to be of much use, and the other two, well, they're stationed in Africa."

"What my furry little colleague is trying to say is that there is no stopping this thing." Bonecrusher grumbled before being backhanded by Tripredacus and slamming into another wall of rock.

"No!" Atrium yelled out, charging to intervene, but finding himself on the receiving end of a strike from Tripredacus as well. The giant claw came down on him, driving him into the ground and knocking him offline.

"Shit, this is bad!" Wolfang yelled, but had to take cover behind a boulder to avoid getting blasted by a wave of rocks Tripredacus tore out of the mountainous ground and flung his way.

"Good-bye Maximals. We'll send Cybertron your regards." Tripredacus announced before separating into its component parts. The three robots ran into the craft that Atrium had arrived in and sealed the door behind them.

Wolfang ran to the ship and started banging on the door to get in, but was unable to open it. After a few minutes he looked to his comrades. Both were unconscious, but Bonecrusher appeared to be less damaged, and therefore posed the potentially greater asset. The blue Maximal ran to his friend and began performing first aid in an attempt to wake him up. "Get up you smelly mound of beef!"

"Ughn…"

"We've got a few minutes before they figure out how to work that thing!" Wolfang barked as he started shaking his comrade. "I need you to open the damn door, so get up!"

"Ughn…OK, I'm up…" Bonecrusher grumbles as he slowly came back online. "Gimme a minute…"

"We don't have…" The sound of the engines powering up turned Wolfang's attention back to the ship, and the two Maximals could only watch as it lifted off into the air and headed skyward. "Shit." He turned back to Bonecrusher and started helping him up. "Come on, we need to get back to base."

"What about Abdicator?" Bonecrusher grumbled as he wobbly stood on his own.

"We'll need to carry him." Suddenly lights could be seen heading their way, and moments later voices could be heard shouting from beyond the rocks. "Damnit, humans!"

"Over here!" A human voice called out, and the faint glow of a distant flashlight rested on the remains of the probe.

"We've got to get out of here." Wolfang muttered.

"And Abdicator?"

Wolfang looked to the unconscious robot half-buried in the ground. "We leave him. We've got no choice."

The two Maximals shared a look of concern before transforming and disappearing into the night.

Torenia Pax

It was almost too much, being here. She hadn't returned since that terrifying, magical, glorious day, but when Roller had made his request, it was something she embraced with her entire spark. The fact is that she really didn't have any opportunity to take in any of the details of the cave; she had nearly walked past without noticing the pale green glow bouncing through the darkness, and upon entering she had flown into flurry of panicked action, desperately trying to figure out a way to keep the spark from expiring. "He, well, his spark, was right there." She pointed her light beam to the point on the cavern floor where she had first found the glowing green orb. "I was hopeless, there was no way for me to help him. And then, well, he just seemed to pull himself together. Chunks of ore tore free of the walls, the ground, the ceiling, and engulfed the spark. The rock getting pushed out," her beam moved a bit to show piles of the discarded rock pebbles and powder, "almost magically."

"Ignis Superious; they're so rare that their properties and abilities have never been quantified." Roller muttered as he knelt down and gently ran his fingers over the ground that had given rise to his brother's spark. "Thank you for taking me here."

Torenia smiled and ran her own fingers over his back and shoulders. "Thank you for suggesting it my sweet, sweet boy." She turned her lantern to take in more of the cavern. "I know you can't tell me what happened, but please know that I trust you and A-Three to have done what's best." She peered into the depths of the cave for a moment before turning back to Roller. "He is safe, isn't he?"

"He was out, but in perfect health the last time I saw him." Roller replied as he stood up. "A-Three didn't tell me where he was taking him, he said it would be best for everyone if nobody else knew." He met Torenia's gaze and tried to give her a reassuring look in the darkened cave. After a moment his optics casually shifted over to the ground several feet away where the light of her lantern had rested. "What's that?" He stepped forward and bent over to pick up a smooth jet black piece of metal partially buried in the rock. He pulled gently at it, causing it to snap, and raised the piece he had closer to his optics. "It's old, but smooth, almost polished looking. And there's a slight curve to it. I don't think this is naturally occurring."

Torenia leaned in, focusing her lantern's light onto the object. "I don't recognize that substance."

"Easy enough fix for that." Roller replied, reaching into the pack he had strapped magnetically to his upper back and pulling a small scanner from it. He held it before the substance and activated several scanning lasers. A moment later the lasers stopped and the device flashed a green light. Roller peered at the small screen. "And the verdict is….Corallium Furvus? What's corallium furvus?"

"It can't be." Torenia replied skeptically, leaning in to check the read-out for herself, but seeing the same words that Roller had read off. "It was more commonly called black coral; it's basically the remains of a species of long extinct marine invertebrates. Legend has it that the hotspots that gave rise to aquatic spark-based lifeforms almost always had reefs of this substance lined in or around them. It supposedly was a unique case of organic remains forming a pseudo-metal that was as durable and long-lived as much of our own, and it was believed that the material possessed properties that served as some sort of preservative for sentio metallico, or so the legends claimed. Low levels of organic energy or something that, I don't know, bathed the metallico and kept it viable in environments that weren't very conducive to the life-metal." She turned and peered at Roller. "There have always been methods of collecting, transporting or holding sentio metallico, but they're all so temporary; it goes inert within a few days of being removed from a non-conducive environment. The presence of black coral however, reportedly could make almost any environment hospitable for viable metallico to accumulate. That's why it was pretty much collected to extinction, and is likely why there are precious few spark-based fish left in our oceans and seas."

Roller looked down at the object, staring at it intently. "So…maybe…" he looked up at Torenia, "could this…" his optics darted back down at the substance, "could this have something to do with Orion?"

"Perhaps…" Torenia replied, also staring at the substance.

"Hold on." Roller made a few adjustments on the scanner and another series of lasers shot out to examine the substance, this time taking nearly a minute before ceasing its scans and returning with a result. "What? This can't be right."

"What is it?" Torenia pressed.

"According to the readout, this is likely a fragment from a larger vessel, and it has been in this cave for over twelve million years." Roller reported with skepticism.

"Twelve…MILLION years?" Torenia asked. "Not even in the farthest-fetched legends could black coral keep sentio metallico viable for that long."

Roller shrugged and whispered. "He's the Prime who was promised." He looked up and noted the odd look on Torenia's face. "Nothing. Just that if Orion's stubbornness is derived from that green spark of his, then reanimating long inert metallico isn't THAT impossible."

Torenia nodded and smiled. "True." She continued to gaze at the chip for a few moments more before speaking. "Whether one year ago or twelve million years ago, finding this would suggest that somebody intentionally relocated sentio metallico to this cave. A cave in an island where, prior to last year, no spark had ever emerged."

"Someone was hiding it." Roller added, his mind, like Torenia's, was racing trying to understand this development and what it could mean. "I definitely need to ask Alph…A-Three about this when he gets back."

"You think he might have read about something related to this?" Torenia asked.

"Hell, for all we know he could have been the one who put this vessel in the cave." Roller muttered, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from Torenia.

"Stop that," she smiled, "he's not that old." Roller gave her a loving smile in reply, but didn't get a chance to respond as a beeping emerged from both of their wrists. "Hmmm, news feed designated urgent. Wonder what's going on." They both exited the cave and tapped into the strongest communication signal they could access.

The masculine voice of the newscaster came through. "To repeat, multiple terrorist attacks have taken place all across Cybertron. Early estimates are that the dead will number in the low hundreds. Confirmed attacks have occurred in Hyperious, Centurion, Harmonex, Vos, Petrex, Protihex and even Cybertropolis itself. Reports are coming in from other, smaller cities as well. Unverified reports have suggested Autobot involvement. Stay tuned for further developments."

"Those bastards!" Roller snarled.

"What?" Torenia looked at him in shock. "You can't possibly believe that the Autobots were involved. How can you even think that?"

Roller looked away, almost ashamed before replying. "When we…took Orion, he wasn't alone."

"What?" Torenian questioned, but immediately realized. "Oh no Roller, you didn't."

"Look, we did what we had to do." Roller replied. "We told them he'd be safe, but we couldn't tell them anything beyond that. They didn't buy it, and we, well, we had to subdue them. The one called Jazz was actually a lot tougher than he looked, but we managed to put them down. I suppose from their perspective it looked like we were abducting Orion." The young Pax shrugged. "Well, we were abducting Orion. But that doesn't justify anything like this!"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" Torenia scolded. "I refuse to believe any group Orion vouched for could be a part of something like this."

Roller shook his head, gazing up at the sky as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. "They're cells. They're independent groups loosely bound together, but they exist and act pretty much separately from one another so that if one cell gets pinched, they all won't come crashing down. It offers some degree of safety for the movement, but it also enables fringe elements to go and do their own thing. Orion could vouch for his group I suppose, but a few mavericks catch wind of a royal house kidnapping their new figurehead, and, well…" Roller looked down at the ground. "I don't want to believe it, but I can't discount the possibility."

"All those cities all at the same time?" Torenia questioned. "That's a lot of coordination and planning for a few loose cannons acting on their own."

Roller nodded, but still stared at the ground. "You're right. Which means they're being set up, or Orion's judgement is way off."

Detritus Lo-Gar

"Do you know what you've done?" The snarl was sent into the audience chamber one second before his body, but he stomped in and marched straight to the desk on the far end of the room, where he knew the Gar would be working.

"I was wondering when you would make an appearance, Detritus." Wreck Gar muttered.

"You must have known it would be very soon after hearing you've taken steps to kill us all!" The boxy, tan and powerful looking robot snapped before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. Wreck Gar finished typing into the data pad on the desk in front of him and finally looked up. "What were you thinking, to betray us in such a way?"

Wreck Gar let out a whispered chuckle and shrugged. "There has been no betrayal, my Lo-Gar, we have merely accepted a guest for whom Cybertron has become too dangerous."

"Whom?" Detritus growled. "By The Hand, you go from speaking the pidgin dialect of the idiots out there to sounding like an Iaconian polyhistor! Is that to fit in with those you've sold us out to? Have they given you a title and lands on the home world in payment for paving the way for their reoccupation of Junk?"

Wreck Gar slammed his fist hard on his desk. "There will be no reoccupation of Junk!" Gone were the attempts at good-natured civility. "Despite his name, Orion Pax is…, well, he's not of House Pax, not truly. He was born in the pool of no high house. And it is the Prime and other highborn that seek his death. He has allied himself with a group seeking an end to the system of nobility. He seeks equality for all in the eyes of the laws, the same as us."

"According to who? Him?" Detritus Lo-Gar snapped, not cowed by the Gar's burst of agitation. "His undoubtedly highborn benefactor who dropped him in our laps? I highly doubt a bunch of commoners struggling to end the caste system have access to faster than light propulsion."

"I believe the ship was not FTL capable, but had a wormhole generator." Wreck Gar replied, meeting sarcasm with sarcasm. "But you're probably right. He gave me a commoner name, but I'm pretty sure he was highborn."

Detritus glared at his leader with unrestrained anger. "You're telling me he lied to you, you knew he was lying to you, and still allowed him to plant his operative here?"

"Plant an operative?" Wreck Gar looked at Detritus with more than a little incredulity. "Why would Sentinel Prime bother with that? If he wanted to reclaim Junk, he wouldn't need an inside man. Due to energy rationing, our vast, planetary arsenal consists solely of melee weapons. I doubt he would need our axes sabotaged to over-run our defenses."

"Sentinel Prime?" Detritus Lo-Gar questioned.

"Right, apparently there've been some changes on the home world since we were last in contact with it." Wreck Gar explained. "Roughly a million years ago, Guardian Prime set out on a ship with his most trusted advisors. What he was up to is open to debate, but I'm fairly certain that one thing he would hope to accomplish would be to get his extended house in order, this little colony world of our included. He never got here, or returned home, or left any trace whatsoever, so obviously something went wrong. Sometime after his disappearance Zeta of House Decimus was named the new Prime. He served until about a year ago when he was murdered. Sentinel of House Honorum replaced him as Prime."

"I remember the name Zeta Decimus, but I've never heard of Sentinel Honorum." Detritus muttered as he considered these things.

"I would assume he was birthed sometime after our uprising and the cutting of contact with Cybertron, three million years ago." Wreck Gar added, but leaned forward and continued in a stern, almost threatening voice. "Our guest, Orion, is no agent of Sentinel Prime, and he is no threat to us. He will be treated well, and no harm will befall him. Is that understood?"

Detritus met the glare, and slowly rose back to his feet. "You are my Gar, you led us out of captivity and servitude and showed us we were every bit as good as those that we toppled. Because of that I will obey you, despite disagreeing with your choice to take this non-royal with a royal name in. But should he ever pose any threat to our people, or if you give me further reason to question your judgment, well, my loyalties are firstly to the citizens of Junk, then to you."

"If Orion Pax is a threat to our people, I will kill him myself." Wreck Gar replied as he too stood up. "I am pleased to hear of your loyalties to the people. Some of your comments in recent vorns have given me the impression you think yourself above them. There is no nobility here. We serve the people, we guide the people; we do not rule them. I had feared that you had forgotten that." Wreck Gar's intense gaze was broken as something behind Detritus caught his attention. "Orion, please, come in. There is someone I want you to meet."

Detritus refused to turn and look at the off-worlder creating the light footsteps coming toward them. Based on the sound of the footsteps, he was likely pretty small, despite the initial reports he'd heard. A moment later their 'guest' was standing next to him, and despite the sound of him walking, he stood three feet taller than Detritus and was significantly broader at the shoulders. Detritus looked him up and down in disgust; large, solid, powerful-looking but light on his feet. He was clearly a warrior, and there was no doubt that he was on a mission to infiltrate their colony and facilitate an invasion. "Hello, I am Orion Pax. It's a pleasure to meet you." The shiny stranger held out his blue hand in a gesture of greeting. Detritus refused to accept it and turned back to glare at Wreck Gar.

Wreck Gar hit him with an angry glare as well, but turned to Orion and smiled. "Detritus is one of my Lo-Gars, that's something like a regional governor. And like the rest of the planet, he's very suspicious of off-worlders, especially Cybertronians with royal names."

"I understand, and hope that in time I earn your trust." Orion once again spoke directly to Detritus, and once again his words were ignored.

"Have you had a chance to settle in at all?" Wreck Gar continued speaking to the newcomer.

"I have, Wreck Gar." Orion replied respectfully. "I appreciate your hospitality."

"How did you enjoy our swill?" Detritus snarled, a bit of mocking mirth in his voice. If anything could break the cover of this highborn dandy, it would be their foul fuel flowing into his pretty, untainted fuel tank.

"It took a little getting used to, but I managed to keep it down." Orion replied with a smile. "It did seem to leave me sated, so I can't complain."

Wreck Gar met the smile before turning to his Lo-Gar. Detritus presented a heated look. "Keep the off-worlder under careful watch. He is not to be trusted." The Lo-Gar turned and marched out of the audience chamber.

Megatron

He had run through the scenario countless times in his head prior to giving the go-ahead. He'd considered every eventuality, evaluated the risks, the rewards, and had proceeded with this, their most risky endeavor to date. He was not having second thoughts, and he definitely wasn't having regrets, but ideally he'd have waited a bit more, allowed him to grow and further place his assets to a greater extent. But Rabattus was growing impatient, and for the time being it served their purposes to allow him to think he was pulling the strings.

"You fear we weren't ready to take this step." The harmonic voice cut through the room.

Megatron looked up across the table they were seated at in the vast room to Soundwave, the only other individual present. "I hope you're not prying into my mind."

Soundwave chuckled, a sound that Megatron believed no one other than he had ever heard. "I don't require my abilities to realize that."

Megatron smiled and shrugged. "It's not fear. But yes, I do wonder if we acted too soon."

"You had not choice in the matter." Soundwave replied. "Rabattus Decimus expected the acts of terrorism to have already occurred. Further delay would only have infuriated him, potentially disrupting the resources he's been supplying us with, and possibly even caused him to suspect our true motivations."

Megatron's smile broadened. "Now I really suspect you're reading my mind."

Soundwave peered intently at Megatron. "I assure you, Lord Megatron, yours is the only mind that is completely safe from my prying."

Megatron nodded, no indication of gratitude, more an acknowledgment that the response provided was acceptable; the ONLY acceptable response. "Well, at least…" a buzzing from the communications console built into the center of the table interrupted him, and he smiled at Soundwave, who stood up and walked around, taking a seat next to the chrome gladiator before reaching forward and pushing a button to answer the call.

A holographic image of the shoulders and head of Rabattus Decimus appeared, a smile on his face. "Greetings, my friends. The Senate is abuzz with discussions about these horrific Autobot terror attacks. Of course denials have been sent to media outlets from various reported Autobot cells, but with such a loosely knit organizational structure, can the right hand truly know what the left hand has done?" He laughed. "The range, scope and destruction is far more ambitious than I had planned, but the high body count, including several members of lower nobility, has really whipped most sectors of the planet into a rage against the Autobots. Well done my friends. It's good to see the munitions and other resources I've provided to you have gone to good use."

Megatron smiled and bowed his head in gratitude, only momentarily catching a glimpse of the vast stockpiles of weaponry beyond the holographic image in the expanse of the warehouse they were in; weaponry that Rabattus was assuming had been used instead of the cheap but effective homemade ordinance that Megatron's operatives really used. "They have, my lord, and I plan to use more to even greater effect in the weeks, months and perhaps even years to come. I will ensure that the focus of the entire planet remains on these misguided Autobot upstarts."

Rabattus grinned but fixed Megatron with an inquisitive stare. "No sympathies for your fellow commoners, mighty Megatron?"

Megatron chuckled. "I've been led to believe that my status as a commoner might be a temporary thing."

Rabattus laughed at the comment. "You're planning on holding me to that, is that it? Well yes Megatron, you will certainly be rewarded with wealth and social enhancement, but with you being a Polyhexian, I must give Macht the opportunity to do that first."

"Of course my lord." Megatron bowed his head lightly. "But no, I bear no sympathies for the Autobots."

"Excellent." The dark senator nodded. "I just wanted to congratulate the two of you on a job well done. Keep up the good work, but limit the caliber of victim to commoners and low nobles."

"Sir," Megatron questioned, "I have no interest in striking the nobility, but…the Autobots do. It might raise questions if an organization fighting for the rights of commoners is seen to only be killing commoners."

Rabattus nodded. "I hate to say it, but you're right. Fine, you may consider plans that could cause the deaths and injuries of high nobility, but you must run the names by me first and get my approval."

"Of course my lord." Megatron replied.

"Well then, continue, and let Soundwave know what materials you'll need." With that Rabattus switched off the signal and disappeared, leaving the two occupants of the vast warehouse with a view of the rows upon rows of weapons.

"I'll have a shopping list to you shortly." They both chuckled at Megatron's comment.

"Might I suggest another warehouse be added to that list?" Soundwave added.

Megatron smiled broadly as he nodded. "Not a bad idea, though I plan on beginning the distribution of our resources shortly. So we'll probably need several smaller, but well-placed secure facilities throughout the planet."

Alpha Trion

Oblivion was finally giving way, but unfortunately it was giving way to intense pain. Darkness was still present, but that was merely a choice at this point, his optics were one of the few things that seemed not to be damaged. But activated optics were detectable, so he paused and decided to take in as much as he could with his other senses before giving any indication that he was conscious. He was heavily damaged, but nothing life-threatening. His internal repair systems were already getting things in order. He could feel metal covering his arms legs and much of his torso, likely some sort of binding to keep him confined. From his auditory senses, which like his optics were working as well, he could hear the bustle of activity around him, including conversations conducted in an alien language. He could also detect various radio frequencies buzzing around him, an archaic but reasonably effective method of conveying audio, and easy enough for him to tap into. Within minutes he had managed to piece together a rough understanding of this language called English, apparently one of many spoken and written on this planet, and was now eavesdropping on those around him.

"If I weren't looking at it, I wouldn't be believing it." One of the voices said.

"Where do you think the cockpit is?" Another one asked.

"Hard to pinpoint without knowing the size and shape of the alien, but if I had to guess, I'd say the chest." A third voice said. "Offers the most room and the most protection."

"I'd bet there is no cockpit." The first voice said. "Probably remote control."

"Could be programmed to react and make decisions of its own." The third voice posed.

"Like some sort of…artificial intelligence or something?" A fourth voice said, one that seemed to be attached to a series of footsteps that had been growing louder, but not that loud, for the last couple seconds.

Based on the locations of where the voices were coming from and the lightness of the footsteps, Alpha Trion…hmmm, it had been a very long time since he had thought of himself by that name, but based on these things he estimated the natives to be less than a third his height and a tiny fraction of his mass. Sensing no point in playing at being unconscious anymore, Alpha Trion activated his optics and straightened his head, taking in his surroundings. He ignored the gasps and frightened starts of the humans and peered down at his battered frame, currently enclosed in a metal case. It was primitive, but the thickness and presses used to clamp him in were enough to keep him their prisoner. He looked around and found himself in a hangar, several primitive aircraft were on the far side of it, and all the doors were sealed shut. Dozens of soldiers armed with what he assumed were rifles were stationed all around the hangar, and standing in front of him were four men, two in long white coats and two in ornate tan clothing with various pins on their chests and wearing some sort of hats; likely attire for high ranking military leaders. "Greetings humans. I pose you and your planet no harm."

One of the military leaders, a man with light skin color, dark but whitening hair on his head and even more whitened hair over his upper lip, stepped forward. "That's good to hear, but you'll understand our skepticism, and our precautions despite your assurances."

"Of course." Alpha Trion replied.

"My name is General Leslie Richard Groves, and I'm here to find out why you're here." The human general stated. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the weapon we've been testing near here and unleashed in Japan a few weeks ago."

Alpha Trion chuckled. "My name is Alpha Trion, and while this may be difficult for you to believe, I am not a vessel, nor am I remote controlled, and my intelligence is not artificial. I am a living being. And perhaps even harder for you to believe, my being here has nothing to do with your advance into atomic weaponry." He paused for a moment. "Well, the location of my arrival on your planet was selected in hopes that the radiation levels from your testing would mask any that my craft would have brought with it."

General Groves nodded. "Maybe, but again, you'll need to understand that we're skeptical. You'll be treated well, but make no mistake, you are our prisoner, and you will be interrogated to ascertain the threat, if any, those who sent you pose us."