What Makes No Difference Is No Difference (WMNDIND 14)

-0-Back at Earth Base Alpha 1

They drove through the bridge, then skid to a halt. Perceptor transformed with the enormous heavy sword in servo. Sagging under its weight, he turned toward Prime who had transformed.

Prime took the weapon hefting it easily.

The others who had gone ahead stepped closer.

"That reminds me of tales about the Chaos Edge, Vector Prime's sword," Ironhide said as he stepped closer to see the glittering perfection forged by Solus Prime herself.

"It is. We have two of Vector Prime's personal weapons now," Prime said as he studied the script on the mirror-like blade. It was in the Primal Vernacular, a language mostly forgotten but intrinsically understood by anyone who bore the Matrix of Leadership, an artifact that began its life on the hilt of the Star Saber.

He read the name of Vector, a script from the Covenant and the prayer, 'Until All Are One'. "He bore many weapons and devices. I am concerned that all of them may be here."

"Why? Why would this place be where they are?" Sideswipe asked as he coveted the sword with his optics.

"I do not know," Prime said as he hefted the blade in his servo. "We should not assume that other relics are not here just because we have only found those connected to Vector."

"There are many," Ratchet agreed. "The Forge of Solus Prime, the Chaos Edge, the Emberstone, the Enigma of Combination and others."

"Most of them were either lost, still with the Pantheon or in storage in Iacon," Bluestreak said. "How did they make it to this nowhere planet in the edge of nowhere?"

Ratchet shrugged. "I don't know but we better be on it."

"What does it do?" a voice asked from the floor.

Everyone looked down.

Miko and the boys were looking up.

"There are weapons that were created long ago during the creation time that are very dangerous and in the wrong hands can cause grave harm. We have to gather them up. They appear to be here for whatever reason. This sword can destroy with very little effort in the servos of a Prime," Optimus said.

"What if a non-Prime has it, Optimus?" Raf asked.

"They can't even really lift it," Ironhide said. "No one can lift nor wield most of the weapons but a Prime."

"Then we're not in any trouble," Miko said concluding a logical if erroneous thought.

"No. Some of them can be. Not all of them are worthless without a Prime," Ratchet said. "All of them are if not dangerous, then sacred. They were made for gods and they belong in a state of reverence, not in the servos of thugs and murderers. They belong to Optimus Prime. All of them."

Everyone nodded.

"We better get on it. Has anyone had a hit on patrol?" Springer asked.

Everyone nodded in the negative.

Ratchet walked to the computer. "Then we better get back out there."

The groups gathered, then drove off together.

Prime watched them go, then turned to the humans. Pausing a moment, he grinned slightly. "Where's Miko?"

-0-Moments later

He walked from the room where the Chaos Edge hung in suspension beside the Star Saber. As he did a ruckus began nearby. Optimus Prime walked back to the door behind which Knockout was having a fit.

Knockout happy at last grimaced. "Took you long enough."

Optimus began to turn to leave and as he did Knockout called to him again. "Don't go. I want to talk to you."

"Then talk," Prime said calmly.

Knockout stared at him, at the calm, even startlingly handsome image of someone he once considered soft and weak. "I want out of here."

"Why? You are our prisoner."

"Look … maybe I was hasty choosing sides. Maybe there's more to the ..." He paused as if to say what he wanted was a chokingly painful thing. "... Autobots. Maybe there's more to the Autobots than I thought."

"When you figure it out, let me know. I am told I am a sucker for a redemption story," Prime said as he began to leave again.

"WAIT! I'M GOING CRAZY IN HERE!" Knockout said pounding on the door. "AT LEAST LET ME *DO* SOMETHING!"

Prime stared at him, then nodded slightly.

-0-Moments later

"It's hot in here."

(Grin) "It feels good in here."

"You're not doing the work, Arcee."

(Bigger grin) "Boo-hoo."

"Slagger. THIS IS WREAKING HAVOC ON MY FINISH!"

(Smile) "I can see that."

"Fragging Autobots."

Knockout used tongs to remove the smelted energon, then turned to pour it into a cube. It filled the container to the top. He loaded the box of the long handled smelting container, then slipped it back into the blazing hot fire of the furnace. Turning back, he picked up the cube and carried it to the growing stack in the back of the huge room. The enormous mound of raw energon nearby wasn't even dented.

Knockout looked at the pile, then the three Autobots sitting around, their guns in sight. Life was fragged and then you died. He walked to the box in front of the smelter and sat. Every ten minutes he would repeat.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Frag.

-0-Out there

They flew through the darkness following the trail of the mechs who they were chasing from the Empire. Impactor sat by a window tinkering with his guns. Roadbuster was flying while the others lounged. The trail was fading slightly but they were on it as they had been for some time. It was a strange task they were given by Fort Max some time back. It was one of 'those' kind, their specialty.

They were Wreckers, the elite last chance, last hope special operations team noted for do and/or die. Impactor was their leader, their inspiration. The big mech was everything that Prime wasn't in terms of tactics but they had many things in common. They were relentless on the hunt, had a rock hard belief in the Cause and were fearless. He was the longest lived Wrecker and the heart of their organization. He sat brooding about the quarry they were chasing as they flew onward.

Roadbuster glanced over his shoulder. "You might get some recharge, Chief. This is going to take a while."

Impactor looked up for a moment, then nodded. "Tell me when you find them. I want to know immediately, Roadie."

Roadbuster nodded. "Nothing so far but the trail of their ship, boss. We'll find them."

"We will," Impactor said with a cold fury. "Then they're ours."

They flew into the night across the outer galactic arm toward the faint signal of a base called Alpha Omega 1.

-0-Autobot Alpha Omega 1

Prowl stood in the pouring rain watching as a handful of desperately ill refugees were carried off their ship as the two who could still function stood anguished and fearful on the muddy landing strip wringing their servos as they watched. Medics were carrying them to the infirmary barracks nearby where they would be cared for by the doctors that had come with Prowl and those that had arrived with the refugees and small bands of Autobots who had made it here.

Healers from the illegal clinics of the low caste slums of the big cities of Cybertron were here, too, helping with their smarts and make do to care for the sick and injured. There were several more ships due in with just about the same kind of load shortly. Given that he'd received a call from Beachcomber earlier that they had found more energon was the only thing keeping him from eating a bullet. They would be able to provide for their people for a while longer.

Turning to go back, sloshing across the swiftly running water that came from everywhere and ran everywhere until the sun came out and dried it, he walked toward Ops Center in the nearby barracks. Off in the distance where the mountains began their inexorable climb upward to snow capped tree lines of jagged peaks, Prowl noted the amount of construction that they'd managed thus far.

They were digging into the mountain to make a safer headquarters and refugee center for their base. Being in the open even if it was in the midst of a lot of forest, jungle and other distractions was too vulnerable to his tastes. The stone here was strong, they were skilled at building shelters from it and soon they would move to the mountain five miles away up the two mile switchback road to shelter in the bones of this world.

Rain dripped off him, something that would have irritated his refined and fastidious tastes any other time but he was used to it here. He was a soldier and before that a police detective in Praxus. It was a thousand million lifetimes ago and he didn't tread those golden paths too often. Down that road lay the faces and places of his life and they were no more. At least he thought so. Until they walked through the door and said hello, he had to believe that their suffering ended with the suffering of his home world.

In a rocket barrage on a frenzied night of fight, run or die.

He continued to the building and entered, the door closing behind him. The rain continued to fall from the roof landing in growing puddles on the ground as the torrent continued to fall in sheets from the gray sky overhead. On the tarmac the orderly chaos of rescue continued and would around the clock for a while longer.

-0-On the road

They drove along the winding road of the Big Sur. Beyond the shore, down on the rocks and beaches of the vast Pacific Ocean waves crashed and flew upward in spray as the relentless dance between ocean and moon continued as it had from the beginning of time. It was sunny, warm and the day was still young.

"What do you think, Bulk? I'm new here."

"I think I like the ocean, Springer." Bulkhead grinned. "Try and find another sight like that on Cybertron."

Springer chuckled. "You can't. We have two swords now and the possibility that something really bad is out there waiting for us to find it."

"I know. The last thing we'd need is for humans to get their hands on whatever it is," Bulkhead said. "They have no idea what can happen."

"Why don't you tell me then?"

Bulkhead nearly went off the road, overcompensating himself back onto the highway. Behind him, Springer swerved, then rejoined him. "What was that, Bulk?" he asked with concern.

"MIKO!?"

Moments later …

She sat in the passenger side seat buckled in, watching the ocean as they continued onward. Glancing at the dash, she grinned. "You know I'm your partner. You can't go without me, Bulk. We're partners."

"You could get hurt, Miko. Prime will have my bearings if you do," Bulkhead said.

"Frag that, Bulk. You and me, we're Wreckers. Wreck 'n rule or die," she said with a grin.

"Sounds like someone we know," Springer said over the radio with a hint of a grin.

"Who?" Miko asked.

"Uh," Bulk said as he considered telling her a moment.

"Tell me, Bulk," Miko said. She grinned. "You know you want to."

Bulkhead issued a sigh, then began. "His name is Impactor and he's the boss. He's got guns everywhere. They're built in, they even strap to his leg. He has a harpoon on his arm where a servo was."

"A *HARPOON*!? *SERIOUSLY*!?" Miko asked in surprise. She was in love.

Bulk chuckled. "Yep."

"I want to meet this guy. He sounds like my kind of mech," Miko said. "What else?"

"He's a good guy. He was friends with Emirate Xaaron and they took on the worst. He got Trannis or so they said. He was going to take us into the 'Con HQ to take out the ten worst Decepticon assassins during Operation Volcano but that got called when Megatron sent the slaggers elsewhere. No one had more guts and daring than Impactor," Bulk said.

"No one," Springer replied.

"Springer is Impactor's second-in-command, Miko," Bulkhead said proudly.

"Wow. Do you have a picture of him, Bulk? He must be what? Thirty or forty feet tall?" Miko asked.

A picture appeared on the screen on Bulk's dash, one of the Autobot Impactor.

Miko looked at him, then sat back impressed. "Whoa. He's rad! Did you see his mohawk?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Mohawk?" -Springer and Bulkhead

-0-Out there

They landed at an outpost for refueling. They stepped down looking around at the heavily fortified installation. It was one of a number placed on the main travel lanes for alien transport designed to meet the fuel and trade needs of everyone who passed. Because it was an installation far from home, it was fortified like no one's business. Guns bristled, everything about the station was armored and then some. To speak to the crews who managed everything you had to do it electronically. If you tried to get inside you were reduced to your component molecules.

Bristleback walked across the metallic tarmac of the landing field to a monitor interface station. He plugged in, waited for the proper translation file to appear, then made his request. The station worked out the cost of the request, then delivered the amount owed to the big mech. He considered it, then electronically transmitted the amount requested to the station using universal currency most of this sector of space traded in.

He swore to himself as he waited, the rest of his team watching as he cleared the transaction. When it was, Birdbrain walked to the junction and guided the refueling arm to the slot. It entered and the amount purchased began to fill the tanks of their ship. He was a smart effective fighter but the pretender shell that he wore hampered him cutting down on his effectiveness.

No matter that he was among the smarter of the Decepticon faction, his shell bumbling his efforts to move and act made his fellows come to other conclusions. Their laughter and sneering rankled.

Scowl, Slog, Wildfly and Icepick lounged in the doorway content to allow him to do the work as Bristleback walked slowly toward them. They stood together watching the fuel pump do its job.

"They're behind us," Slog said to no one in particular. None of the six liked each other but they were held together in an unholy bondage. The ones who chased them were equally loathed but nothing this band of pretenders felt about it included the idea that they wouldn't come out on top in an encounter. They hadn't failed yet. They didn't expect to any time soon.

When their ship was refueled, they boarded and hit the road. They were expected somewhere and they weren't going to miss the dance. They disappeared into the darkness of space in seconds.

-0-TBC 2-22-15 edited 2-13-16 01-23-2021