I thank all the readers who commented on the previous chapter, and more generally, all the readers who are still following this fiction despite the long hiatus.
The text was not beta read. In advance, thank you for your understanding.
Nota Bene:
Time units: Astrosecond = 0.283 seconds; Breems = 8.3 minutes; Joor = 1 hour; Mega-cycle = 93 hours; Orn = 13 days; Meta-cycle = 13 months; Vorn = 83 years
Length units: Klik - 1 kilometer; Mechanometer = 1 meter
Italics: scene taking place in the past
'Text': thoughts of a character
(Text): discussion through comm.-links
Chapter 37: Setback (2)
Forward Operational Headquarters 0025 of the Earth Resistance Force
Laboratory of Perceptor
The scientist inspected the equipment that would serve to analyze the Seeker's energy field. He then checked his internal clock; it had been more than an hour since his last discussion with Starscream, and he had not shown in the laboratory yet. Perceptor knew the condition of the flier, and that he had had to make a short recharge. However, it seemed to take longer than expected, leading Perceptor to fear a more serious problem.
He was about to open his comm.-link when loud voices reached him from the corridor outside the laboratory. Perceptor immediately identified the screechy voice of Starscream, who seemed to argue with another mech. The door opened suddenly on the tricolor Seeker, who stormed in the laboratory with an angry gesture.
"I'm good, Warp'. You can go now!" Starscream growled.
"Don't count on that; I won't go away as long as I'm not sure you're safe!" Skywarp replied in the same tone.
Noting that both Seekers – too busy with quarrelling – were totally ignoring his presence, Perceptor decided to attract their attention. He cleared his throat loudly, so that Skywarp and Starscream stopped to glare at each other's, and finally looked at him.
"Hello, Skywarp. Please, close the door. You can stay if you wish," Perceptor announced, relieved that one of Starscream's wing mates was present. Skywarp gave him a nod, meaning that he was grateful to be allowed in this laboratory. Perceptor did not doubt for a second that he might be of some help if the need arose. "Now, Starscream, please sit down on the bunk... I will first treat your hands, and then start the analysis of your energy field. Meanwhile, I want you to tell me what happened a joor ago..." he added.
Unsurprisingly, Starscream seemed to be destabilized, and began to vibrate his wings. Skywarp watched him anxiously, and could not help but mirror his vibrations.
"Something wrong, Starscream?" Perceptor asked, sensing that his question had struck a chord.
"I argued with Megatron... on the comm.-link." Starscream spoke so quietly as to seem almost inaudible.
Perceptor motioned to Skywarp to not intervene when the purple Seeker walked to his wing mate. He did not want any interference while the trine leader seemed to be willing to confide.
"Yes, Starscream...?"
The flier sat down on the bunk, helpless, hardly daring to stare at Perceptor and Skywarp.
O
Starscream eventually relented, retelling the few details that he remembered: he had felt upset because Megatron had urgent business to attend to, and had finally screamed that he did not want to hear about him anymore. What a charming declaration to make the day of his bonding ceremony! Skywarp understood better now why Megatron seemed out of sorts during their short conversation.
He decided to stay aside, while Perceptor installed a scanner over Starscream. Once the unit was running, Perceptor grabbed a soldering iron, and began to repair the fingers of the Seeker, closing the cracks with incredible precision.
'Warp', it's useless to stay here... I'm in good hands," Starscream said in a dull voice.
"Eh, no. I am perfectly fine here," Skywarp replied. He was not fooled by the small maneuver of Starscream, who probably did not want to reveal his trouble in front of him. When would Starscream accept his wing mates as close friends capable of helping him?
"Well, repairs are completed. Finally, your fingers look like something again. The joints might be stiff at the beginning; you will have to make them work to soften them," Perceptor informed him.
Starscream nodded, and flexed his fingers to test their maneuverability. Perceptor took the opportunity to check the data recorded by the scanner, rubbing his chin with a quizzical look.
"There are still some atypical energy spikes, but nothing alarming. I need to inspect your spark box now," he decreed.
The tricolor Seeker threw a pleading look at his wing mate; Skywarp immediately understood the message, and looked away not to see this intimate part that any Transformer was reluctant to show to another, unless if the other was their bond mate. Perceptor was the scientist in charge of Starscream's cure, so it was different.
"It is a little red, but much less than what I expected. The pulse is rather normal. You can close it."
Skywarp concluded that he could again take a look at Starscream when he heard the characteristic noise made by closing panels. Visibly relieved, the tricolor Seeker rose from the berth to approach the workstation, where Perceptor was in the process of compiling the data.
"Well, then, am I cured?" he asked with impatience in his voice.
"It is too early to say this, Starscream. But it appears that pain causes some interference with the virus, or reduce its effectiveness. However, I recommend that you do not abuse of this method to control your anger... besides, I have to push the analysis further."
Perceptor's conclusion obviously was not satisfying for Starscream, who showed his impatience by rattling his wings. "Why don't you want to admit that I am in a better condition, and that I've found a way to counter the effects of this virus?" he huffed.
Perceptor rubbed the top of his helmet, apparently feeling the onset of a migraine. "Because I am a scientist, Starscream; I cannot be content with simple hypothesis, or random facts; I need irrefutable evidence based on scientifically verifiable data..." he tentatively replied.
"You think I don't know what a scientific reasoning is, perhaps?" Starscream growled, visibly annoyed. "Do you want me to remind you my primary assignment on Cybertron?"
Ouch! Perceptor had unwillingly scratched the ego of Starscream, whose past scientific records were well known to all. The Seeker waved his wings like an angry rooster, his voice betraying his nervousness. If this continued to escalate, Perceptor would be about to check by himself if the theory of Starscream was reliable or not.
Instinctively, Skywarp was ready to intervene in case both mechs would come to blows.
O
The heat was back into his spark, as well as the red curtain before his optics. The precarious balance that Starscream had succeeded in restoring threatened again to collapse, all this because that fool of an Autobot had patronized him, ignoring his scientific background. A very small part of him, however, refused to give free rein to violence.
"Starscream!" Skywarp suddenly yelled.
The tricolor Seeker felt a sharp pain radiating from his right wrist; looking down, he saw that he had pressed the fingers of his other hand in the metal panels, strongly enough to pierce it. A few drops of energon glistened between his fingers.
Starscream shook his head, driving out the last traces of his trouble, then freed his injured wrist from his fingers. He managed to give Perceptor – who looked at him in horror – a genuine smile.
"I told you already: I've found a way to silence the damn virus... I am a scientist, like you. Science is also about experimentation. Don't forget this last point!" he muttered before sitting back on the bunk.
The microscope quickly overcame his surprise and regained his usual coldness. "I am going to make another verification. This will allow me to make comparisons with the other data," Perceptor announced calmly. He then turned to Skywarp, who was more nervous than ever. "You can go now, I am going to take care of Starscream," he assured.
The purple Seeker greeted the news with a combined vibration of his wings and energy field. "No, but... no, I want to stay!" he protested.
Starscream nodded, understanding his concern; Skywarp might be a dilettante, but he respected some principles when it came to his wing mates. Although he did not want to admit it, and pretended to be a fool and an inveterate prankster unable to take things seriously, Skywarp cared for them.
"All is good, Warp'. Perceptor is going to complete the repairs, and then, I'll have some rest. Let's meet at the ceremony tonight," Starscream assured.
Skywarp hesitated a few seconds before giving a knowing smile. "Yeah, okay. Call me when you get out of that laboratory, anyway!" he growled before going out, admitting defeat.
…..
Not far from medibay 22
Galvatron's mood had considerably improved since his visit to Soundwave. Bending him to his will was a most pleasant prospect. He needed to strengthen his bodyguards to assert his power in the Decepticon army. Given that Megatron held Soundwave in disgrace, it would have been a shame to miss this opportunity to integrate him to his personal elite guard. Besides, he was doing a good deed; a Decepticon on the loose was always a potential and deadly threat.
A smile tugged at his lips when a request for communication reached him. The timing was perfect.
"Then, Megatron, you have something to tell me?" Galvatron giggled in anticipation of what his brother was going to retell about his communication with Soundwave.
(Meet me in medibay 52. I need you there to attend the reactivation of the Stunticons.)
The purple warlord did not abandon his smirk. He was a little surprised by the concern that he felt in his brother's voice, and concluded that it had nothing to do with Soundwave.
"Don't tell me you can't take care of your minions alone... Recharge them half if you fear that they show themselves too vindictive," he mocked.
(This is not that simple, Galvatron. Motormaster can be a real threat, unlike the four others.)
This response piqued the curiosity of Galvatron. His optics flashed a red light, as every time he had the prospect of facing a dangerous opponent. "But still? You are telling me too much, or not enough..." he retorted in a teasing voice.
(Motormaster shows me some loyalty... which may be more or less evident under certain circumstances. He is cold and brutal, without an ounce of mercy – which is a quality for a Decepticon - but he feeds a certain obsession with Optimus Prime. He wants to kill him to prove he is the true king of the road.)
"Hey, hey... Decidedly, Optimus Prime is not likely to get out alive from this base..."
(In other circumstances, I would be delighted in this, but not this time. Motormaster won't react in the most appropriate way, I have no doubt about this. He doesn't care about Cybertron's destruction, and he will reject any consensus with the Autobot, even less with Optimus Prime.)
"Between you and me, this is understandable: admit that it doesn't please you to work with Optimus... "
(Of course... but I'm almost certain that Motormaster can go as far to force the other Stunticons to form Menasor and destroy Optimus Prime. Menasor is unstable at normal times. He may become out of control in such circumstances.)
The optics of Galvatron flashed a disturbing light, while some excitement vibrated through his neural system. Fighting a gestalt was part of his fantasies, which remained unfulfilled so far. He had tried to provoke the Aerialbots several times in the past, but they had always been far too reasonable to unleash Superion against him.
No, really, this was enticing; Galvatron admitted that he was even looking forward to crossing paths with this Motormaster. "All right, I'll be right there. Besides, I'm not far away!" he assured.
(Perfect. The preparations for their awakening should be completed in less than a joor.)
Megatron hung up at that point. Galvatron clearly felt that his brother was hiding something in his voice, which was less assured than usual. He did not mind it too long, focusing on the prospect of fighting an enemy finally about his strength.
"Yet another Decepticon that I'll be happy to bend to submission," he sneered.
…..
Main command room
Prowl observed the young Prime of the corner of the optics; the latter obviously was brooding on his conversation with Grimlock. Rodimus was clearly not accustomed to the rough ways of the Dinobot leader, and had taken his remarks very personally. He probably did not suspect that Optimus Prime had constantly had to deal with the mood swings of Grimlock.
The tactician was to say a few words about this point when he received a communication request from Blaster.
"What's going on? I thought you were in full recharge..." he wondered.
(I was. But as you know, even in full recharge my sensors are still in operation. I've intercepted a message from a Salonian ship. It has been broadcasting for several Breems now on our open frequency, Alpha-051 channel. Check for yourself; you're going to understand at once.)
Intrigued by the mysterious words of his officer – and also by the excitement that he perceived in his voice – Prowl glanced at Rodimus Prime.
"Who is it?" the young mech asked as he reduced the distance with the tactician.
"Blaster. He suggests that we open the Alpha-051 channel. It is a channel for long-range communications... we use it only to communicate with distant ships," Prowl informed.
"Yes, that, I know," Rodimus replied irritably, clenching his fists. "I asked Grimlock to be discreet. He's making fun of me, again, isn't he?!"
Before Prowl has had time to stop him, Rodimus opened said communication channel. "Rodimus, wait, our enemy might be spying and–!" the tactician protested.
"Oh, you think so? Well, Me Rodimus, I think that's a new challenge from that big lizard," the young Prime replied, imitating the Dinobot leader's way of talking. Then, he resumed his normal voice to scream over the communicator: "Grimlock, I know very well that you don't give a damn of my orders, but, you've gone too far! I'll stick you in the hole when you get back, and–"
(I am Elita-One, spokesperson of Commander Nyxeris of the Empire of Salonia. I request to speak to Megatron and Optimus Prime!)
Both Autobots blinked their optics looking at each other, not certain they had really heard what they had just heard. Prowl was the first to recover from his surprise. "Identify yourself at first!" he snapped.
(I repeat: I am Elita-One, spokesperson of Commander Nyxeris. I request to speak to Megatron and Optimus Prime!)
Rodimus Prime pressed a button on the console, silencing the communicator on their side.
"Oh, Primus! Everything that this girl, Nerte, has told us, was true! The Autobots that we believed were destroyed in the explosion of Cybertron would be alive. Elita-One is alive!"
At the other end of the communication link, the femme repeated her identity and her request. Prowl stiffened, both upset with his sudden inability of thinking effectively, and by the reaction of Rodimus Prime, who showed that he was decidedly too novice. And also by that voice, which was similar to the voice of Elita-one – in any case, to the voice frequency that he remembered.
"This is definitely a trap," the tactician icily replied before reactivating the speaker. "Elita-One... or whoever you actually are. There is no question that you get in contact with Optimus Prime, and even less with Megatron. If you want to talk–"
(Prowl? Prowl of Polihex? The tactician of Optimus Prime. Is that you?)
The mech clenched his jaw, feeling unable to answer this question. Oh sure, he knew who he was. However, there was something familiar about that voice, which made it extremely disturbing.
"Don't divert the conversation!" To his relief, Rodimus had managed to recover from his surprise, and had decided to come to his rescue. "If you want to deliver a message, then, it will be for us."
Silence settled down during long minutes, so that the two mechs believed that the so-called spokesperson had left them.
(I see that you don't want to cooperate. Fortunately, Commander Nyxeris is determined to conclude a truce with your rebel base. Therefore, I agree to your terms and deliver you her message...) Rodimus Prime and Prowl looked at each other, shared between disbelief and mistrust. (She is ready to start peace negotiations with the commanders of the Cybertronian and Earth's rebellion, namely Optimus Prime and Megatron. Commander Nyxeris offers to meet them in a neutral place, of which she will provide the coordinates, once the principle of a negotiation is accepted by the aforementioned leaders.)
Prowl had to admit that the news was so unprecedented that even a mech with nerves of steel like him felt lost. "Do you have anything to add?" he asked, doing his best to hide his confusion.
(Yes, only one thing: I'm waiting for the response of Megatron and Optimus Prime, Prowl.)
A stony silence came down again. The tactician heard a crackling on the communication link, proof that it was not cut yet. The spokesperson was still on the line.
Prowl put the communicator on mute, but did not change its frequency. He then addressed his communication officer, who had listened to the conversation without saying a word. "Did you locate the source of the signal?" he asked, putting his personal communication system on speaker, so Rodimus could join the briefing.
(Yep, location confirmed: it comes from the mother ship stationed in the stratosphere, just above our base.)
"So... is it possible that she's telling the truth?" Rodimus Prime exclaimed, "Let's suppose that this so-called Elita-One speaks for the commander of the mother ship... This doesn't make any sense. Why now? Why so suddenly?"
Prowl nodded, slightly surprised that Rodimus had reached the same conclusion as him. Maybe he had underestimated Rodimus, after all; perhaps he was not as novice as he seemed, just too impulsive. At least, they were on the same page: the offer of Nyxeris was clearly too good to be true.
"Rodimus, I strongly suggest that we contact Shockwave. Not a word to Optimus, Megatron and even less to Galvatron. We will keep this information in a closed circle for the next Joors," he suggested.
Rodimus nodded silently. He had obviously grasped the seriousness of the situation, especially the danger of such an information. Optimus Prime had always hoped that Elita-One would have survived the destruction of Cybertron; would he be able to act rationally after getting the confirmation that she was indeed alive? On the other hand, Megatron, in his race to power, would certainly try to take advantage of the situation. As for Galvatron, nobody knew what this mad mech could do…
Shockwave would be able to analyze the situation and the offer made by the so-called Elita-One with all the hindsight, impartiality and the necessary calm. All that Prowl could no longer do at this very moment.
... ..
Quarters of Nightbird
Her nunchaku fell with a devilish precision on the punching bag – figuring a tricolor robot with wings – but did not hit it. The purpose of this training was not to behead it, but to calibrate her attacks and work the precision of her movements. The punching bag, however, was not completely unhurt; if the nunchakus was only brushing their target, they left a scratch with every passage. It was an important exercise for Nightbird; she was known to her enemies - and allies – as a formidable war machine thanks to her ability to inflict damage upon her opponent without leaving him a chance to parry. She intended to keep this reputation intact.
"I see that you use your free time wisely. You go up a little in my esteem."
One of the nunchakus slightly deviated from its trajectory, scratching deeply the bag. Nightbird froze and narrowed her yellow optics while her mask slid automatically to cover the lower part of her face plate; a Transformer had just got in her quarters, without her noticing. An unforgivable mistake, especially since she perfectly knew the frequencies of the energy field that pulsed behind her.
"What a surprise! I already knew that you were good at stealth approaches, but I had no idea you were capable of completely silent approach," she said. She brought the two nunchakus under her arms, and turned around to face her visitor. "I didn't' expect to see you here, Cyclonus. Do you miss me already?" she asked in a seductive voice.
She took a few steps and set the nunchakus on the only table furnishing her rather spartan quarters. She walked to the Transformer, and stopped a few meters from him – which, reduced to their size, corresponded to a clear invasion of personal space. Nightbird raised a hand, and traced with a finger the line formed by the cockpit of the Decepticon, without touching it. The contact was tempting, but the suggestion of a caress would probably be more effective, she thought.
An iron hand fell on her wrist, forcing her to stop this game. Apparently, she had made a mistake. Annoyed, Nightbird looked up and glared at Galvatron's lieutenant.
"I'm not here to bend to your little fantasies..." Cyclonus replied.
"As if I ask your opinion..." Nightbird retorted. She stepped back and grabbed the two nunchakus. "Let me show you how my little fantasies could also become your fantasies," she replied defiantly.
Cyclonus was unruffled, which completely annoyed the female ninja. All right, she would submit this arrogant Transformer to her whims, as she had done earlier. She glared at him before charging violently. Against all odds, Cyclonus pulled away at the last moment; their armor brushed in a metal screeching, making sparks spring.
"Nice move, but this isn't enough!" she warned before performing a back flip to beat down on his prey. "You won't escape me!"
"You speak too much…"
Cyclonus' response came together a strong punch in her stomach, which obliged Nightbird to drop her weapons and made her waltz against her berth. She slightly lifted her body, finding herself staring at the blood-red optics of Cyclonus. Despite the oil that flowed from her mouth, she smiled under her mask: Cyclonus practically stood astride over her, restricting her every move.
Nightbird plopped down on the berth. She traced slowly the ventral panels of the Transformer with a hand, "You want to be on top, I see. I knew that my offer would interest you," she whispered.
She let out a frustrated hiss when Cyclonus slapped her wrist against the berth with an iron hand.
"You're wrong, your offer doesn't interest me. Your behavior, far from making you attractive to me, makes me despise you a little more each time I see you," the Decepticon spoke of a deep voice. "I also question the reasons that push you to do so. Is it boredom? I don't believe so. Is this a way to break your loneliness? You are the only robot endowed with free will that is not a Transformer, after all..."
Nightbird, who was now trying to break free from the iron grip, froze, fixing her yellow optics on Cyclonus. "What do you know of loneliness, you poor little doggy following your master?" she roared, vexed to be scolded as a child.
"You know nothing about me, and you won't know anything until you do learn to show you are worthy of it!" Cyclonus retorted with extreme composure. "Now, back to business: I came here to offer you a deal."
"I don't bargain with anyone. I take what I want!" Nightbird barked while trying to free herself.
The weight and strength of Cyclonus did not allow him to move the slightest.
"I highly doubt it. And I also doubt that the character you are playing matches the real Nightbird. I'll give you a chance to be again yourself, and find your place among us, the Transformers."
O
Cyclonus hated the role he was playing, and the words he was saying, but it was the only way he had found to fulfill his 'mission'. He did not want to bend to the whims of Nightbird - let alone cause any interface while he was not attracted to the femme. Therefore, only one solution remained: to appeal to the reason of Nightbird. And to her sense of honor, if indeed one ounce of it remained.
"I don't care! What I want is to be respected! And it starts with apologies from Starscream and Megatron!" Nightbird screamed shrilly.
"I've already told you: you will never receive any apologize from these two. But you can earn their respect, and a rank in the future army of Megatron." Cyclonus lowered his voice, "Respect, especially from a Decepticon, is not easy to earn. I can help you in achieving it if you agree that I guide you," he offered.
Cyclonus got off the berth and stepped back to allow Nightbird to regain some personal space. The spy sat up slowly, refusing to look at him. Cyclonus detected a great disturbance in her energy field, evidence that his words had been heard.
He had only one last point to clarify, in case it was important to Nightbird.
"If you manage to behave like a true warrior, adopting a Decepticon behavior worthy of the name, then I can reconsider a relationship," he added.
The femme remained silent and still; he decided to leave her to her thoughts.
The Makahara, Earth stratosphere
"How could you accept their conditions?" Nyxeris yelled. She hit the armrest of her throne with her fist, before screaming over again: "I don't care of these minions! I want the message to be delivered directly to Optimus Prime and Megatron!"
Elita-One stood upright and preferred to remain silent rather than letting slip an unfortunate word, which would allow Nyxeris to understand how much she hated her right now. The commander was detestable in normal times, but she could be particularly despicable when she let herself fall in anger.
And then, there was Kraken, whose silhouette seemed to crush everything around in that vast control room, including the huge throne. In addition to intimidate Elita-One, his presence stirred her curiosity. What was he doing here, next to Nyxeris? The pink femme suspected that Nyxeris had long known Kraken, but this was the first time that she allowed someone to stand by her side. Even Thanatron never stood so close to the throne of his mother. So what was the meaning of this?
"How dare you keep silent when I'm asking you a question? I should have thought it earlier: an idiot like you is unable to be my spokesperson!" Nyxeris shouted, rising from her seat.
The Salonians around shrank behind their consoles in fear that Nyxeris indulged on her natural violence. Elita-One closed her optics, resigned to be beaten, knowing she had no way to escape it. After a few slaps and punches, Nyxeris always ended cooling off, anyway.
"Let go off me!"
Elita-One, feeling no blow befall on her, reactivated her optics and saw that Kraken had just caught the dark femme by the wrist, blocking any movement.
"Calm down," the gladiator ordered with a smirk.
"Let go off me, she deserves punishment! She probably will prove more effective as a spokesperson after I give her a thrashing!" Nyxeris protested.
"I'm sure a spokesperson with bruises will actually be very credible," Kraken mocked. He released the femme's wrist and leaned on her. "I understand the reaction of the people in the base 0025. You send an underling, it is normal that only underlings respond to her." Kraken placed his index finger on Nyxeris' helmet," If you want to talk to the base commanders, it is time to get your hands dirty," he warned.
Elita-One was not certain, but there was a kind of underlying threat in the words of the mysterious gladiator. Was the balance of power shifting between Nyxeris and her cronies? She probably would not get any answers immediately, since Nyxeris dismissed her with a gesture of contempt before glaring at Kraken.
Forward Operational Headquarters 0025 of the Earth Resistance Force
Medibay #52
Megatron was silent, looking with a certain weariness at the four colorful Transformers who had come back to life, and especially the way they reacted to the situation. He also felt some annoyance, but it had nothing to do with the attitude of the four Stunticons, but rather with the smirk displayed on Galvatron's face.
Meanwhile, Ratchet seemed a little surprised by the reaction of the Stunticons: Drag Strip was already claiming a blaster to go and fight enemies; Dead End kept shaking his head, repeating like a mantra that the Cybertronians had seen it coming; Wildrider seemed fascinated by the new alt-form of his master and the presence of his brother. As for Breakdown, he was inspecting any corners with a suspicious look, as if he expected to be attacked by an invisible enemy.
The doctor finally decided to continue his medical check, and walked to Breakdown, who seemed less agitated than the three others. He jumped when the Stunticon took three steps back, running into a medical station.
"I am not going to hurt you, Breakdown. I just want to check the pulse of your spark," Ratchet assured.
Breakdown shook his head, "Oh yes, you, the Autobots, you always say the same things. But I know... yes, I know what you do with the Decepticons prisoners!" he stammered.
Jaded and being short of arguments, Ratchet looked at Megatron, silently asking for his help.
"Breakdown, stand still, and let him do his job!" Megatron ordered.
The Stunticon seemed panicked. "You're giving me orders, but I don't even know if you're really Megatron!" he exclaimed before pointing at Galvatron. "Him, he looks more like Megatron, save the purple color and the odd cannon."
The smirk on Galvatron's face faded; he pursed his lips when Wildrider trotted along to him, as to better inspect him.
"That's right, guys. Megatron has never been a flier, and I don't see why he would have chosen an alt-mode similar to Skyfire's. And he looks too young to be the old rusted can," the black and red Stunticon exclaimed before continuing more seriously, looking at Galvatron: "Him, he looks old enough to be Megatron."
Galvatron grunted in dissatisfaction while Megatron pinched his lips. "Watch your words, Wildrider!" he warned.
"Or what?" The Stunticon laughed insanely. "You send me back in stasis?" he mocked.
"That's an interesting idea!" Galvatron snapped, which made the small Stunticon step back.
"Calm down, dude, as long as I can destroy enemies, I can call you both Megatron if you wish!" Wildrider sneered.
"Yeah, I don't care which one is Megatron! Give me a weapon: a cannon, an assault rifle... anything. I promise that I'll go kick Salonian asses!" Drag Strip exclaimed, enthusiastic.
Dead End was not carried away by the fervor of war. He stopped shaking his head to scream in despair: "That's useless. Our race had continuously fought against other civilizations across the universe. It was only a question of time before we fell on a bigger bad ass than us!"
"Bigger than us or not, we'll kick their asses... I'll kick their asses!" Drag Strip retorted.
"Well, I give up! Call me once they calmed down; I'll be in the other room!" Ratchet decreed before grumbling something like they did not need nuts such as the Stunticons in the base.
"Ratchet is retreating... eh, well, I've never seen anything like this! But it breaks my spark to say that I am tempted to do the same," Galvatron chuckled before he asked to Megatron: "So, these are the clowns who merge into the fearsome Menasor? Awesome!"
Megatron felt anger rising in him; he had to admit that the Stunticons were annoying, but they were his creations – with a little help of Vector Sigma. He did not have time to snip at his brother, however.
"Is it us who you're calling clowns, Megacreep!" Wildrider protested.
The insults he hurled at Galvatron dried up when the purple mech grabbed him by the neck and lifted him to look him in the optics.
"Yes, it is you that I am calling clowns. And I'm not Megacreep, but Galvacreep. And if you and your mates keep getting on my nerves, I'll give your friend a blaster, but it will be to shoot you down."
Wildrider began to kick his legs while Galvatron crushed his throat a little harder. Megatron lifted an arm, pointing one of his guns on Drag Strip – who finally decided that Wildrider could fend for himself – then put a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Release him, Galvatron. I haven't negotiated with Optimus Prime that they are brought back to life only for you to destroy them," he pleaded.
Galvatron grudgingly complied. "That's a pity. They won't be of any use!" he growled.
"Wait till Motormaster be brought back online. He will put his team in order," Megatron assured. Deep down, he knew it was not the truth, but was confident on the result of such a statement: the four Stunticons froze, as if they had been caught in the ice.
"No, no, wait. We don't need him!" Dead End begged.
"Yes, we can beat down the Salonians without him!" Drag Strip assured.
"Motormaster's a looser!" Wildrider threw a sincere look to Galvatron. "You'd make a better leader than him!" he declaimed.
"Please don't bring Motormaster online!" Breakdown cast furtive glances around him, as if afraid to see the hearsay Motormaster around him.
"Silence!" Megatron roared, his patience growing thin. "You're going to do as told. Ratchet is going to make the final checks, and you will be taken to your new quarters. And for those who would resist... Motormaster will be informed of your little rebellion."
This last argument - or threat - seemed to destroy any hint of resistance from the four Stunticons.
"Ratchet, the four clowns are all yours!" Galvatron boomed. He chuckled when a fuming Ratchet came back to the main room, and then looked at Megatron with a frightening smile. "I look forward to meeting with this Motormaster. He must be a good mech to inspire such a terror to his subordinates..." he purred.
Megatron stared at him with fiery optics. "Do not rejoice too quickly!" he warned.
…..
Underwater wharf
Grimlock barely waited that the engines were off, and the bridge of the ship deployed, to storm on the dock. Ultra Magnus followed him, being a lot calmer.
"Wait, Grimlock. Rodimus asked us to call him once we arrived. We don't know what awaits us inside the base!" the blue mech reminded.
The leader of the Dinobots stopped; despite his impatience and desire to make his way to Megatron's quarters by the force of his fists, and put him out of commission, he knew that the blue Transformer was of a higher rank than him. He was also able to restrain him physically, and punish him if he did not comply. He was not afraid of being punished, but he wanted to take part in the upcoming crisis. On another note, Grimlock did not understand why Ultra Magnus had decided to obey the orders of a newbie like Rodimus Prime, when he was quite capable of commanding in place of Optimus Prime.
"Me Grimlock, await the orders of Ultra Magnus!" he assured as he turned to face the blue mech.
"Good. Now, let's see with Rodimus and Prowl what's going on."
O
Relieved that Grimlock had decided to comply with his orders, Ultra Magnus followed the protocol indicated by the young Prime. He preferred to do it himself, having understood that Grimlock somehow despised Rodimus. The lieutenant of Optimus Prime was certainly too impulsive and naive to establish himself as a leader towards a veteran warrior like Grimlock, but Ultra Magnus had no doubt that, in time, Rodimus would find his way and show his skills.
"Ultra Magnus to the report. Rodimus, do you read me? We've just arrived," he announced. His communication link crackled for a few seconds, until the slightly excited voice of Rodimus Prime echoed to his call. "Calm down, Rodimus, I can barely understand what you're saying."
The young Prime slowed down his explanations, and made the accurate account of what he had exchanged with the mother ship of the Salonian Empire. Seeing the surprise of Ultra Magnus, Grimlock moved closer to him, intrigued.
"Rodimus, follow the protocol: inform Shockwave, and if he is able to withstand the news, Optimus. In any case, do not reveal this information to Megatron or Galvatron; they would use it for their own advantage. As for our presence, for now, I suggest to keep the information secret. I'm sure Prowl will agree on this point."
They exchanged a few words, then cut off their communication.
"Me Grimlock, want to know what's going on."
"An unexpected turn in this war, Grimlock. But I don't know if it's going to be beneficial or harmful for us," Ultra Magnus replied, looking dark.
…..
In the district of private quarters
Blitzwing stretched and yawned loudly, then breathed in a sigh of relief.
"Do you really have to behave like a human?" Astrotrain reproached him.
"Oh, stop it. It also happens to you to do so." Blitzwing retorted. He resumed his stretching, amused at the idea of irritating Astrotrain. "I must confess that a little of peace from time to time doesn't hurt," he added before swallowing a mouthful of energon.
"Yeah, it's so quiet, it's almost creepy!" Astrotrain made himself comfortable in the airplane carcass that had been converted into a giant seat for Transformer. "Too bad that Octane can't enjoy it with us..."
Blitzwing swallowed some more energon. "Yeah. How long before he gets out of his quarters?"
"A mega-cycle... maybe less."
"Ah. He won't be tonight at the ceremony."
"No."
Both triple changers sipped again some of their energon cube; it was their favorite activity to relax between two battles. It would also allow them to be in a good mood for the evening ceremony.
"We love you, Autobots!"
"Shut up, Wildrider, and move!"
Astrotrain and Blitzwing almost chocked back their energon when those voices reached them. The last voice certainly belonged to Sunstreaker. But for the first one... the identity of the Transformer was undoubtedly known to them, but they did not believe that the mech in question could say such a thing.
Not far away, the voices resumed, and others joined the conversation.
"Yeah, shut up Wildrider! You should be ashamed saying that."
"Don't worry, Drag Strip. I said that because these two nut-cases are still all dull bodywork and worn tires! At least, some things never change…"
"Shut up, Wildrider, or I'll show you who has worn tires!" This time, it was the turn of Sideswipe to shout at the Stunticon.
"Chill out, Side'! Drag Strip and I can take you on a race whenever you want. Dead End and Breakdown too."
"Leave me outside of that, Wild!" Breakdown squeaked.
"It's useless to provoke them. We are their prisoners, and we have nowhere to go!" The voice of Dead End expressed all his depression.
"You're not our prisoners... well, as long as you don't try anything funny!" Sunstreaker retorted in an angry voice. There was the creaking of a door. "Go inside Wild', and don't force me to repeat it!"
"Oh yeah, I'm not a prisoner, eh? What's this hole?"
Astrotrain and Blitzwing put down their cubes, and silently walked closer to better listen to the conversation and have the mechs on visual. A few meters from them, Wildrider finally accepted to come in his new quarters, not without throwing some insults at the Autobots and his teammates. Dead End and Breakdown obeyed quite willingly, the first entering with his shoulders slumped, and the second one, dragging his feet and casting suspicious glances all around.
Both triple changers abandoned their observation while Drag Strip entered into negotiations with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to get a blaster, arguing that he wanted to help them kick some 'Salonian asses'. They recovered their cubes, but did not sit down again.
"Quiet moment, my exhaust pipe!" Blitzwing grumbled.
"Yeah, if the Stunticons are back, this means that Megatron has something in mind. Seriously? He's the only one who would want to unleash these freaks on the road again. How long do you think we have before this turns into a total war?" Astrotrain asked.
"Oh, not for long!" Blitzwing waved his cube. "We should finish this before someone screams general mobilization in our audios!"
…..
Office of Shockwave
Just this once, the base had been at peace – or at least, Shockwave liked to think so. All the Transformers were probably in the process of preparing for the ceremony that would see the bonding of Starscream and Megatron. Shockwave had isolated for several hours in his office and was engaged in his favorite activity, which he had not been practicing for a long time: his scientific researches. He was reviewing methodically his work, assessing the degree of advancement and classifying them by priority.
(Shockwave, I'm sorry to bother you... but I need to talk to you urgently.)
Shockwave stopped reviewing the files, and locked them with a double identification key. He calmly copied the archive, one on his own embedded hard drive, the other on the hard drive of the console.
(Shockwave?)
The Scientific waited for the two copies to be completed to reply to the tactician. "What's going on, Prowl? Megatron and Starscream don't like the hangar you have reserved for their ceremony?" he asked. He rarely allowed himself a dash of humor - it was not his forte - but he was in good spirits that day.
(Oh, I wish this to be so, Shockwave... but unfortunately, I'm afraid that the situation is very serious.)
Shockwave listened carefully the situation report, without interrupting the tactician, while his logical mind was dissecting each word.
"The survival of Elita-One is not a surprise; taking into account the testimony of Nerte Reignault, it was foreseeable to 70%, I would say," he replied calmly. "Anyway, the fact that she is alive is not the problem either; the true intentions of this commander Nyxeris are."
(What do you suggest? For now, there are only Rodimus and myself who are aware of the situation. And Blaster. And perhaps Ultra Magnus…)
"First, we have to talk to Optimus."
(Do you think he can hold this out?)
Shockwave switched off his console, and took a few extra seconds of reflection.
"He is able to understand the seriousness of the situation, and not let his feelings take over. And if I am mistaken on this point, then, we will elect a new leader," he calmly replied. "I suggest we meet within a joor at the bedside of Optimus Prime."
(Yes, we'll be right there.)
Once the comm.-link was closed, Shockwave contemplated the console that he used for his scientific work, and stroked the surface of his only hand. It was clear to him that he would not return to his beloved researches that day.
To be continued