Happy New Year, everyone! The horrible year of 2020 is finally over, and what better way to celebrate the coming of 2021 with an update? Bit of a filler chapter, but the action really starts to pick up after this.

As I'm sure many of you know that I like to tie my works into the bounds of realism as much as possible. As such, I based this chapter from the movies "Sully" and "Flight," which were based on real plane crashes.

Megatron's first act was to question how such a thing could have happened. Then two answers came to him at the same time. Starscream? Or the Autobots?

He wouldn't put it past either of them. Starscream had come to terminate him, but the Seeker made it clear it was because he wanted to rule the Decepticons himself. He wouldn't destroy a whole army just to get to Megatron, an army he wished to lead. More importantly, Starscream wouldn't destroy his only way off this Primus-forsaken planet.

As for the Autobots, surely they wouldn't go so far? Optimus had quite a distaste for suicide missions. He wouldn't send his subordinates to sacrifice themselves for the cause, especially when their numbers were so few. He especially wouldn't danger the humans that were spread across nearly the entire surface of the Earth, along with their precious pet still onboard. Then again, as many times as they left Jack in the dust, Megatron wouldn't be surprised. And with their resources limited and weary from the long war, it only made sense that the Autobots would become more ruthless.

Well, whatever had occurred, it did not change the current situation. The Nemesis was losing altitude and fast. At this rate, it was only a matter of minutes before it left a very large crater in the planet. And it was completely obliterated.

Megatron somehow had to find a way to control its descent. Usually he had a whole crew tasked with operating and piloting the Nemesis. Now that entire crew was neutralized, save for—

A deep, pained moan interrupted his train of thought.

Breakdown!

In all the excitement, Megatron had nearly forgotten the Decepticon was still alive, left bleeding and broken on the floor. The Decepticon leader whirled around to find that the burly mech was stirring awake. His lone optic was flickering weakly and his limbs shifted as he slowly attempted to gain his bearings. Too slow.

"Get up," Megatron barked as he stomped over to his subordinate and grasped a thick arm. Breakdown was the only mech on the ship whose size rivaled the former Champion, so he couldn't lift him by himself. Getting Breakdown to his pedes would have to take more persuasion. Megatron tugged insistently, repeating, "I said get up!"

Still recovering from a nasty blow to the processor, Breakdown was sluggish to register the situation around him. He failed to hear Megatron's growls or the blaring alarms, or detect the claws digging into his protoform, or the fact the ground was nearly vertical now. He simply stared at his lord as if he was a stranger.

"Wh-wha?" Breakdown stammered. Finally, just when Megatron was about to howl in frustration, clarity finally returned to the mech. His optic went wide and bright, but his shout was still laced with slurred confusion. "Wha's goin' on?"

"We've lost power," Megatron answered bluntly.

It took a full moment to Breakdown to scan his surroundings. His optics widened even further at the sight of the decimated husks basked in red light. Producing another question.

"What happened?"

"There's no time to explain!" Megatron retorted impatiently. They were wasting precious seconds. Seconds they did not have. "If we do not restore the ship, we all will be exterminated!"

The foreboding statement seemed to finally rouse Breakdown into action. With a pained groan, he climbed to his pedes. Megatron half-supported, half-dragged the massive mech until he was completely upright. He then urged Breakdown towards one of the workstations, while he moved to the main console. The warlord had to leap over two husks to reach it, only to find a Starscream clone draped across the controls. He unceremoniously threw the thing to the floor, just as Breakdown let out a wail of dismay.

"Oh, scrap! Our power core has been compromised!"

Megatron cursed. That explained the complete system failure. Without an optimal source, the array of mighty engines had begun to cripple in a matter of moments. With no electricity, there was no way for the Nemesis to navigate. With no thrust, the entire ship was sent out of the sky.

"What is the status of the secondary power core?" the Decepticon leader demanded.

"Uh… secondary is at 43% energon capacity!"

It was only enough to power basic systems, but it would work. Megatron would have to thank Shockwave personally for having the ingenious idea to have it installed. That is, if they survived all of this.

"Reboot the systems! Activate it!" he barked.

"Affirmative!"

There was a lengthy pause as Breakdown inputted the commands. The console screens and even emergency lights flickered off as their source of electricity was interrupted, cloaking the bridge in total darkness. The blaring alarms were deactivated, filling the air with dreadful, suffocating silence, save for the violent trembling of metal all around them. Megatron counted every nanoklik that went by, calculating how much closer to the Earth they were for each one.

It did not help matters that the Nemesis hadn't been far up into the atmosphere. In order to refuel, the ship had to be close to the ground. Once it had been filled, it took off, but the Nemesis had yet to make it to the orbit. Now it may never reach the upper atmosphere ever again.

Cursed to the same fate as the Harbinger.

The ship that had first brought Megatron upon this wretched planet.

The warlord still remembered that horrid day. There had been an electrical failure throughout the ship, compromising everything from the navigation to the engines. Megatron and his crew of lowly Decepticons had been helpless as the ship plummeted towards the planet. It crashed into the icy regions of the northern pole, sinking into the frigid waters and was swallowed up by the ocean forever. Megatron's subordinates did not survive. They were the lucky ones.

They were not frozen in their own frame, waiting for centuries, wondering if others would ever come. They were not left at the mercy of greedy, foul organics, that eagerly tore Megatron apart for their own amusement.

No! Not again! I will not fall again!

Just as the Decepticon lord made the silent vow, his dark world was illuminated with light as systems re-activated with a hum. Diagnostics filled the screens before Megatron, reminding him there was still a critical error that needed to be addressed.

Megatron thought quickly. They needed to slow the warship's descent, if they were to have any hope of regaining control. Only the Nemesis was not the most aerodynamic vessel. It had been designed to travel across the vacuum of space, not cut through a planet's atmosphere. It was amazing it moved as efficiently as it did, with all the drag from the—

Megatron had an idea.

"Have all the energon rerouted to the transformation seams!" he ordered.

Breakdown just blinked at him, echoing dumbly, "Um, transforma—"

Megatron cut him off. "Just do it!"

"Y-yes, master!" At his lord's snarl, Breakdown quickly did was he was told, only to report a moment later, "Lord Megatron, the T-cog is locked!"

The tyrant sucked in an agitated breath. Of course it was. He was the one that locked it in the first place.

"Override," he commanded. He then hastily told Breakdown the code, who echoed him as he inputted the password.

"T-cog is reactivated!"

"Extend the spines across the ship, as much as the seams will allow."

Aside from a confused stutter, Breakdown did what he was told, reprogramming the T-cog to send the commands to the outer projections. They were hardly more than extensions of the exoskeleton, mostly serving as deterrents against rival ships carrying boarding parties. However, they were also somewhat useful for riding on air currents.

Megatron heard the distant groan as the exterior of the Nemesis shifted. The two spines protruding from the bow began to abduct from the main body of the ship, opening wider like a maw of a monster. He couldn't help but grind his denta at the reverberating noise, but he did not let his misgivings get the better of him.

He had only awakened the T-cog, not the mind. The mind was still in slumber. As it always will be.

The shaking all around Megatron only seemed to worsen, to the point that he had to cling onto the console before him to stay upright. However, it was a trade-off he was willing to accept, as Breakdown reported, "We're deaccelerating!"

Glancing at the monitors around him, Megatron confirmed Breakdown's observation. The speedometer was decreasing and the warlord had the chance to read their current altitude. He cursed when he recognized they had already sunk below the cloud cover. The panels taking up the front of the bridge were filled with lush green of the organic earth below—an alien, disturbing view that should never be present on the bridge of the Nemesis.

It was only then Megatron realized: the warship wouldn't recover in time. They were going to crash. All he could do now was control the extent of the damage.

"Dump all our fuel, immediately!" Megatron commanded, only for Breakdown to sputter as the bizarre order.

"But, my liege—"

"DO IT!"

At his bellow, the Decepticon hastily did what he was told, servos flying across the keys. Megatron wasn't keen on the idea, either—especially with their energon storage at full capacity—but he had little choice. Aside from his life-giving properties, energon was extremely flammable. All it would take was a single spark to send their stores up in flames, which could cascade across the ship in a catastrophic explosion.

There was a distant whirr and the Nemesis shuddered again, like an animal reeling at the sight of losing its own blood. The warmonger wasn't sure what effect the energon would have on Earth's atmosphere, or the countless inhabitants below, he truthfully didn't care. It wasn't helpful knowing that it would take some time before the energon stores were emptied. Megatron doubted that it would all be ejected.

He would have to take matters in his own servos, then. His talons glided across the controls before him, inputting a code only known by he and his High Command.

"I'm taking manual control," he announced, just as the console before him shifted and two levers took shape, each fitting perfectly with the titan's large servos.

"You're going to do what?!" Breakdown squawked, but Megatron did not dignify him with an explanation.

Instead, he braced his heels against the smooth flooring to steady himself. Then without further preamble, he pulled.

He shouldn't have been surprised when he was only greeted with resistance. Megatron had to pull with all his strength. He pressed against the ground for leverage, straining so hard that he growled through gritted denta. Bound to the body of the ship, the levers could only sway so far, as they tried to drag the colossal chassis along with them. The Nemesis growled in protest.

It was hard to split his focus between rerouting his energon to his pistons and reading the telemetry around him. He did not know if the Nemesis was still in a sharp dive or it had leveled out. He did not know if they were moments away from termination or if they were spared. Megatron only knew that levers began to give way. Little by little, they began to move. Soon he became aware that the powerful tremors gradually began to lessen. Deafening roars quieted to vengeful hisses.

"We're stabilizing!" Breakdown told, though Megatron was hardly assured.

He had managed to pull them out of the dive, but they were still descending. And they were frighteningly low. Looking at the panels before him, the Decepticon leader could see the details of the terrain below. Rolling hills were sprawled across the land, blanketed by lush grass. Only a handful of trees dotted the landscape. At least there were few obstacles that could damage the ship's hull, but at the same time, there was nothing to stop its momentum.

Megatron wanted to pull away from the wretched sight. He wanted to force the ship to rise up into the air and take to the skies. But the levers were pulled back as far as they could go. He could already feel the strain in his seams as he struggled to hold the increasing weight. Even with all his power and endurance, the former Champion could only bear it for so long.

Perhaps their doom was inevitable.

Yet Megatron was not dismayed. No, he was filled with black, bitter rage. He had not gotten so far, survived so much, to meet his end like this. He had defied his destiny again and again! He was the master of his own fate! He would not be robbed of control—control that was his!

Without further delay, Megatron connected his commlink with the ship's communication system. It compromised his focus, but he did not care. He only had one thought in mind.

"Brace for impact!"

Then with all his power, the mad tyrant pushed the levers forward.

The Nemesis collided into the Earth.

Jack never really liked roller coasters.

Unlike Miko, he never considered himself as an adrenaline junkie. He didn't understand the appeal of being strapped to a plastic chair and being launched at nearly a hundred miles an hour. Forced high in the air, taking so many twists and turns that he was nauseous by the end of it. Jack only went on such a ride once, and he would never go again. Apparently a gargantuan warship falling from the sky was a lot like a roller coaster.

The teenager found himself being jerked around in so many directions, so suddenly and so violently that it felt like his neck was going to snap in half. More than once, his head collided with the hard metal of Arcee's chassis, having pain blossom across his skull. The femme's arms were wrapped around Jack, the only thing keeping him in place as they were jostled around like potatoes in a burlap sack.

The teenager could feel his stomach in his throat. His hearing was muffled, as his ears continuously popped from the rapidly changing pressure. Yet he was still able to hear the almighty noise coming from all around him. It sounded like a thousand thunderclaps were happening at once. Along the screams of metal were the ghost-like wails of the alarms. At some point, they turned off like a flip of a switch, only to be replaced by shouts of terror and panic. Jack thought the lights flickered, but he wasn't sure.

He wasn't even sure how long the traumatizing ride lasted. It could have been seconds, minutes. It felt like an eternity.

Even then, it was all too soon when Megatron's rough voice reverberated through the halls, "Brace for impact!"

It was the only warning before disaster. It was like being a car wreck—sudden and brutal and terrifying. The stomach lodged in Jack's throat lurched before he was flung forward—and out of Arcee's arms. She cried out, but the sound was swallowed up by the catastrophic noise of mangling metal. Jack tumbled down the air duct like a ragdoll, coming to a grinding halt as he slammed into a solid wall.

There was a sickening pop, the same moment a wave of agony erupted from his shoulder. Jack didn't even register his pained scream. He must have blacked out for a moment, because suddenly servos were upon him, frantic and concerned. Pulling him back into Arcee's protective hold.

"Hang on, Jack," he heard her soothe in his ear.

It was hard. The pain in his shoulder radiated down to his arm, making it hard to move. His head was throbbing like someone was hammering an anvil behind his eyes. His neck and the rest of his limbs were sore. There wasn't a single bone in his body that wasn't in pain.

So Jack curled pitifully against Arcee's side, waiting for it all to finally end. Just when the boy convinced himself that it would never stop, suddenly the displaced organs in his body fell back into place. The shaking became less and less. The pandemonium became quieter and quieter. Until, finally, finally, the air became still and silent.

It was several long moments before Arcee loosened her bear hug on Jack, relieving the pressure on his ribs. He didn't even notice he hadn't even been breathing. Slowly, cautiously, he untangled himself from his guardian. He had just straightened when there was a distant pop of metal, but loud enough to make him jump. Only to regret it as a sharp throb came from his shoulder. Jack hissed through his teeth, but he managed to stand on his own.

Then he realized. He could stand. On solid, unmoving metal. Did that mean…

"Is… is it over?" Jack asked tentatively.

"Yes," Arcee assured, though her wings were still hiked up, alert and anxious. "Are you okay?"

"Had better days."

His partner probably wanted a different response, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. The femme frowned, but said nothing. Instead she turned her attention to the grate above them, wedging her blades into the metal edges like how she forced herself into Megatron's quarters.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," she said as she lifted the grate and slid it to the side.

"What happened to being sneaky?" Jack asked.

"I think it's safe to say that's thrown out the window."

The boy couldn't disagree. If Megatron didn't know if something was wrong before, he definitely knew now. Jack wondered if he was okay. He made to reach out over the bond, but he stopped himself.

What was he doing? Why should he care? A matter of minutes ago, Megatron had nearly killed him. If anything, he should be wishing any sort of ill fate to befall the menace. Yet the idea of Megatron being hurt or trapped or simply left alone, made Jack's stomach knot. He didn't voice his sentiments aloud, though. Arcee was sensitive was their relationship, especially when it came to the blood-bond. So he banished the sinful thoughts from his mind and placed a wall around his psyche.

Then for the numerous time that day, he allowed himself to be picked up like a doll as Arcee plucked him out of the confines of the air duct. By some intervention of Primus, the corridor was barren, but Jack pondered for how long. Arcee must have had the same thought as she promptly transformed into a sleek motorcycle. Hearing the wordless order, he swung his leg over the saddle and took hold of the handles.

When he had fully settled, Arcee took off with a sharp rev of her engine. Now they only had to find their way out, before Megatron's wrath rained down on them.

Lennox anxiously paced back and forth the length of his office. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't make himself sit down or keep his hands still. He continuously ran his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair or fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeve. He was aware he must have looked ridiculous. He was supposed to be a commander. He was supposed to be calm and collected. He was supposed to think rationally. Instead, Lennox felt like a green rookie stepping into his first post.

It had been several hours since Arcee and her team went radio silent. Several hours of not knowing what was happening. Not knowing where they were, or if they were okay. The lieutenant colonel couldn't help but wonder if he made the wise decision, letting them go on their own. Even as the thought occurred to him, he quickly dismissed it.

No, this mission required stealth. Tiny humans, no matter how skilled they were, would only get in the way. But what if something went wrong? Should he alert British forces?

The United Kingdom was one of the few other countries that recognized the existence of Transformers. In fact, they shared custody Diego Garcia, a joint military base that served as the new headquarters of the Autobots. Well, that was until most of the 'Bots moved to Cape Canaveral, to be closer to Jack and "all the excitement."

Which was why there was a lively buzz coursing through the base. Apparently news about the stealth mission had already gotten out, along with rumors of what would come after. The Autobots were quick to act—taking their energon rations, rebooting their weapon systems, and even taking a few toys from the armory. Naturally the humans were quick to follow.

Even from his quiet, remote office, Lennox could hear the clamor of his soldiers readying for battle. Eager shouts filtered through the walls, along with the marching of heavy boots on pavement and the revving of powerful engines. All they needed now was the word.

One that the lieutenant colonel was waiting to give.

Lennox was abruptly pulled from his thoughts as the door suddenly swung open. He couldn't help but start, used to someone announcing themselves or at the very least knocking. But apparently Simmons was above such consideration.

"Colonel, I have a bone to pick with you," the Sector Seven agent announced. Lennox honestly didn't know if that was supposed to be some half-hearted greeting.

Instead of indulging the man, he rolled his eyes with a groan, "Simmons, I'm not in the mood to have a conversation right now."

"Good. I'll do the talking, then."

Completely ignoring Lennox's dismissal, Simmons sauntered over to the desk and settled in one of the chairs across from it. He had the nerve to lean back and cross one leg over the other, looking as comfortable as a person who was actually invited to commander's reprieve.

Acting oblivious to the scathing glare he received, Simmons reported lightly, "So I've been hanging it out with 'Bots for the last couple of hours."

"Spying, you mean," Lennox corrected, only to be replied with a shrug.

"Tomayto, tomahto."

The ex-Ranger rolled his eyes. Realizing that Simmons wasn't going away, he continued his pacing, listening the man drone on with half an ear.

"Anyway, some of them don't exactly agree with the mission."

"Let me guess: Ultra Magnus and Ironhide?"

"Along with Smokescreen and Sunstreaker."

Lennox blinked at the news. He expected such skeptical behavior from the two war veterans, but both Smokescreen and Sunstreaker were young, still itching for their taste of battle. Then he remembered what the mission entailed—saving Jack from Decepticon custody—and he remembered that the 'Bots that had very little interactions with the teenager. So in the end, it wasn't surprising that they would agree with their commanding officers' suspicions.

As if to confirm his conclusion, Simmons said, "They say it's sure a whole lot of risk, just for one fleshy." And then he must have felt he need to add, "Their words, not mine."

"It's not just about Jack. This is about turning the tides of the entire war. We do this right, we could end Megatron's entire operation."

"Or, we could be playing straight into Megatron's hands." Lennox paused at the somber tone, even rounding to face the other man. Sure enough, he found that gleam in Simmons's eyes was gone, replaced by a dark daze as he went on, "Come on, Lennox, he's been one step ahead of us this entire fight."

It was then the lieutenant colonel caught on to what he was insinuating.

"You think it's because of Jack. You're convinced he's a traitor, too?"

"'Traitor' is a strong word. But, before I got into Sector Seven, I did a lot of... espionage. I saw a lot of things. I saw people turn into different people. I saw kids, armed with—"

"Jack is not a terrorist!"

Simmons didn't even flinch at Lennox's shout. He didn't even twitch, as the tall, broad-shouldered Army Ranger loomed over him. His gaze didn't even waver, as he continued in that cool, iron tone, "Not yet. But word on the street is that Megatron can be pretty persuasive."

"You're talking about Stockholm syndrome."

"Jack's a good kid. He is. But I've talked to him. I've seen how Megatron's gotten into his head. Literally, with that whole psychic mumbo jumbo thing."

Lennox decided he had heard enough. He briskly turned away and put the desk between him and Simmons before he decided to punch the man for saying such blasphemous things. But as he kept his hands clenched by his sides, he could hear that cynical voice whispering in his head.

He had seen that dazed, traumatized look in Jack's eyes more than once. There was no telling what he had seen, what was going on in his head. A mind that young—that damaged—was easily mendable. What if it was true? That Megatron was morphing him into a monster? That he had already changed?

Another part of Lennox—the protective, parental instinct of a father—immediately rejected the idea. Jack wasn't some wolf in sheep's clothing. He was victim of other beasts that wanted to consume him. Heaven above, he was just was a kid.

"I am not arresting a child," Lennox declared. "Not on a hunch."

Simmons gave another half-shrug. "Fine. So will you arrest him before or after the invasion?"

The NEST commander opened his mouth to refute him, but didn't have the chance to speak as door flew open—again. This time revealing a wide-eyed and winded Epps. It looked like he had sprinted across the entire base.

Lennox suspected he may as well have, judging by his breathless voice, "Colonel, you're going to have to see this."

"It just fell from the sky?" Simmons gawked. "How does a giant, alien spaceship just fall from the sky?"

Apparently the former spy could only process information by repeating it aloud. He had been parroting the phrase ever since he and Lennox stepped out of the office, Epps still in tow. They walked down the wide corridors of the NEST base, headed towards the building's command center. They should figure out what was going on from there.

"I guess we're going to find out soon enough," Lennox replied, though his tone was heavy from the gravity of the situation.

Even with his purposeful stride, it took them longer than it should have to reach the main HUB. The commander opened the door only to be greeted with mayhem. The air was filled with chatter and hurried movements as technicians and soldiers rushed from one side of the broad room to the other. They expertly snaked their way around rows and rows of computers, which could not have been an easy task. From what Lennox could see, every single one was occupied by analysts, absorbed by the information in front of them. The walls were covered in monitors, each one showing a different diagram or satellite image.

Including one that immediately captured the newcomers' attention.

"Holy crap," Simmons gasped. "You don't see that every day."

Lennox would have agreed, if his brain could process what he was looking at. A gargantuan ship with dark metal and sharp edges, giving it a menacing appearance.

The Nemesis.

But something was terribly wrong.

Usually the lieutenant colonel would see the Decepticon warship as a blurry shape among the clouds in pictures taken either by cameras among the ground or by jet fighters on patrol. But instead the flying fortress was precariously balancing on the edge of a tall, cliff. Foamy, black waters crashed against the stone walls, almost reaching up to the Nemesis itself.

Lennox was about to demand where the picture was taken, then he recognized the glaring white rock that made up the cliff face. Then he remembered where the Autobots were headed. Shit, those where the White Cliffs of Dover.

If the man remembered his geography correctly, the natural formation took several miles of England's shore. It was mostly rural, explaining why there wasn't any news of pandemonium, but it wasn't exactly isolated. The cliffs were frequented by locals along with the flocks of tourists visiting the country. As well as any ship crossing the English Channel.

Lennox waved over a waiting private, demanding, "Any witness accounts?"

"Nothing circulating the internet yet, sir," the man answered. "We're still monitoring."

"If you find anything, flag it or take it down. Prep a meeting with the press."

"What should we tell them?"

"Same shit we always say," Lennox groaned with an exaggerated wave of his hands. "Bad test. Training exercise. I don't care. Just something other than an evil spaceship."

The private nodded and after he was dismissed, scurried away. As soon he disappeared, he was replaced by another figure.

"Fowler," Lennox greeted as the liaison appeared. "I need you to find a way to get people out of the area. Call local authorities if you have to. Just say there was an accident and the region's too unsafe, until we know what to tell the public."

"I'll figure something out," Fowler assured. "This isn't my first rodeo, Will."

"How about a Decepticon warship?"

"Now that's new."

Other than raising his eyebrows with a flat frown, he didn't seem that surprised. Lennox assumed he had handled so many catastrophes involving the Autobots that he was used to it by now. Fowler walked away, a phone already pressed against his ear. He stepped out of earshot just as he begun to speak, so Lennox could only guess what kind of story he was spinning from the top of his head. The colonel went on to the next course of action, turning to Epps beside him.

"Find our liaison with the British," he ordered. "We're going to need reinforcements."

Epps blinked, echoing, "'We,' sir?"

Lennox nodded solemnly, eyes narrowing. "Get the boys ready. It's time to go to war."