A/N: I'm still to get caught up on the new TF IDW series – I'm one of those picky fans who fell totally in love with MTMTE and Lost Light, and what I've seen of the new series makes me a bit cautious to commit to it.
Disclaimer: If it's Nightraider, Dreadnought and Crossfire, they're mine. All else is Hasbro's, TakaraTomy's, Marvel's and IDW's.
Warning: Spoilers for the '86 movie, which frankly, you should've watched by now. It's been 33 years; you have no excuse.
Hora Spissisima: Part 5
CE 2005, deep space, 4.5 parsecs from Cybertron…
The pain and nausea that had followed in the wake of the Prime's passing had faded to somewhat bearable levels after a couple of joors, but the overwhelming sensation of loss endured.
They had won, and yet it felt like the universe had lost.
Perhaps that was the way Primus had always planned it. The ways in which the Matrix reconfigured a Prime's spark were almost completely unknown to science, especially since most of the preceding Primes did not particularly wish to have the inner workings of their sparks made public.
If that was how the Matrix worked – by altering a mech's spark to be able to physically communicate with the entire Cybertronian race, and to transmit the pain felt to all of them whenever the Prime's spark was extinguished – it made for a compelling argument to keep the Prime alive, no matter the cost.
But if the Prime lived, they would not have won.
And yet…
With all of his creations now safely ensconced within his chest compartment, Soundwave cast a cautious glance around the interior of Astrotrain's cargo bay.
The Constructicons had formed their own little huddle with Blitzwing, Reflector and the Coneheads - all of them were bruised and battered, but there was nothing visible on any mech that an energon transfusion, a few breems of panel beatings and a long recharge wouldn't fix.
The others however…
Thundercracker and Skywarp were slouched against each other by the exit hatch, their fuselages twisted and dripping energon. Bombshell, Kickback and Shrapnel were all lying on the floor barely conscious.
And then there was Megatron.
The Decepticon emperor had barely moved after the passing of the Prime. His head rested next to Soundwave's right thigh; his right fist still clenched over his ruined chestplates. His optics were narrowed with pain, but thin slivers of bright red optical casing still shone in the darkness.
Anxiety wove fine, powerful threads around Soundwave's spark and tightened its grip.
Any other mech with those injuries would have been left on the battlefield to bleed out and pass on without even a shred of remorse.
Megatron was stronger than any other mech on Cybertron, but even he would not be long for this universe if they did not reach Cybertron within the next joor.
The tiny blue emergency transmitter hidden under his wrist plating felt like it was burning.
Should he activate it now and confirm to Shockwave that the worst was about to happen, and let Megatron know that he had lost all hope in his liege's recovery?
Or should he wait, stay quiet until the worst had happened and then contact Shockwave, and leave it too late to prevent the almost inevitable coup that would occur after the Decepticon leader's passing?
The decision, as it turned out, was not left up to him.
Astrotrain's vocaliser roared over the strained whine of his engines. "Jettison some weight or I'll never make it to Cybertron!"
Never one to turn down an opportunity for advancement, Starscream saw his chance and grabbed it.
"Fellow Decepticons, Astrotrain has requested that we lighten our burden."
Apprehension shot through the atmosphere inside the cargo-bay like lightning. Out of the edge of his optics, Soundwave could see the more grievously injured mechs tensing up. The Coneheads quietly moved a suitable distance away from their damaged counterparts and activated their null rays.
Bonecrusher managed to stand up and keep his spinal struts rigid. "In that case, I say it is survival of the fittest!"
A logical statement. The injured were taking up valuable room, medical and energon supplies, all of which could be used to stabilise their leader.
The Air Commander smirked.
"Do I hear a second on that?"
Twelve voices roared, "Aye!"
"And against?"
Five voices whimpered, "Nay!"
Starscream's optics shone with malicious glee. "The ayes have it!"
The ayes, led by Blitzwing, shoved the injured mechs towards the exit hatch.
"Get! Make room for others!"
Skywarp frantically inserted himself between the triple-changer and his bondmate, his hands slippery with his own energon, but determined not to let Thundercracker be shoved out.
"Don't!"
Blitzwing grabbed both jets by their neck braces and flung them out of the hatch.
Soundwave positioned himself next to the hatchway and stared out, his optics tracking the paths of the two jets and the Insecticons as they spiralled away from Astrotrain's hull.
That should be enough to lighten the load. At the very least, it would be enough to guarantee stabilising Megatron's condition until they reached home…
"Oh, how it pains me to do this."
The rasp of Starscream's vocaliser and the scrape of plating against plating pulled his attention back to the shuttle's occupants.
His energon turned to ice.
The Air Commander had lifted Megatron's damaged chassis into his arms and was hauling him effortlessly towards the hatchway. A twisted smirk lit his faceplates with undisguised delight.
Soundwave wanted to move, but his pedes were frozen to the floor.
His CPU stalled.
Inside his chest compartment, Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw and Ratbat were all physically restraining Laserbeak from forcing her way out of her sanctuary and murdering Starscream where he stood.
He forced himself to be heard over the psychic shrieks of his only femme creation.
Stand down, Laserbeak.
NO!
Stand. DOWN.
WHY?!
Because I will not watch you die by Starscream's hands!
Laserbeak made one final desperate bid for freedom, then ceased her struggles. She fell against her twin, optics streaming in grief. But Megatron…!
Wait. Just…wait.
Starscream, completely oblivious of Soundwave's telepathic struggle, stared down at his former commander and braced himself against the cosmic winds whistling through the hatchway.
Megatron visibly struggled to lift his cranium up. Panic laced his vocaliser. "Wait! I still function…"
"Wanna bet?"
Starscream's arms dropped.
Megatron's battered frame span away into the blackness of space.
"STARSCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmm…!"
The hatchway door stayed open long enough for the Air Commander to deliver a last mocking salute.
Starscream made a show of dusting his hands off as he strode away from the hatchway and into the centre of Astrotrain's hold. "Well, as Megatron has, how shall we say, departed…"
Blitzwing and the Coneheads exchanged uneasy looks.
The Air Commander tapped his own chestplates in pride. "…I nominate myself as the new leader."
Inside Soundwave's chest compartment, Frenzy rolled his optics. "Oh, here we go."
Rumble remained tense. "Yeah, but this time, who's gonna shoot him in th' back an' be th' real leader?"
As if to answer Rumble's question, Scrapper surged forward, his gestalt-mates clustering behind him in support. "Wait! The Constructicons form Devastator, the most powerful robot. We should rule!"
That would never do.
The Communications officer stepped forward, optic band bright red, vocaliser steady.
"Soundwave: superior. Constructicons: inferior."
Bonecrusher turned on him. "Who are you calling inferior?!"
Hook sneered. "No-one would follow an uncharismatic bore like you!"
That was too much.
Overriding his creator's security protocols with barely a thought, Rumble forced his way out of the Communication officer's chest compartment with a snarl and transformed to bipedal mode. "Hey, no-one calls Soundwave unchrasomatic!"
Soundwave took the space of a sparkbeat to muse that, no, no-one had ever called him unchrasomatic.
Frenzy followed less than a nanosecond later. "Yeah, let's kick tailgate!"
Ravage and Laserbeak followed their brothers without any hesitation.
Inside Soundwave's chest compartment, Buzzsaw had been forced to partially transform to prevent his little brother escaping from his safe haven and tearing out the throat of the nearest rival. Ratbat, NO!
Ratbat didn't stop struggling for a moment. He said horrible things about Soundwave. He dies!
I said, NO!
Ravage growled and sent a pulse of reassurance to his youngest sibling. Be still, little brother.
But he…!
You will stay where it is safe. We will handle this.
Hook, oblivious to the Cassettes' conversation, gestured to his brothers. "Constructicons, UNITE!"
The component parts of Devastator pulled themselves together in a sparkbeat and advanced upon Soundwave.
Rumble and Frenzy roared, "NO WAY!" in unison, transformed their arms into piledrivers, and slammed them into Astrotrain's hull.
The gestalt fragmented and collapsed into an undignified pile. Ravage seized the advantage and pounced on Hook.
No-one would follow Soundwave, would they?!
He ripped out part of Hook's throat tubing with a snarl. Laserbeak strafed Scrapper's torso with laser fire, her optics ablaze with rage and grief.
Blitzwing turned at the feeling of someone peppering his back with bullets. The Coneheads stood behind him, their faceplates twisted with malicious glee.
He roared and drew himself up to his full height. "I am a triple changer. I am worth any two of you. I should run things."
Dirge stepped forward, urging his brothers to stand back. "Death comes to anyone who crosses me."
He charged at the triple-changer and shanked him with the remains of his null-rays.
Blitzwing staggered briefly but regrouped and turned his attention to Soundwave and Bonecrusher. The bulldozer had retreated after the Communications officer had thrown an impressive right hook at his cracked facemask. The triple-changer saw his chance, and body-checked the navy mech…
Right up until Ravage crashed into him with a snarl and shoved him into the nearest wall, teeth digging into his plating.
Ignored by everyone, and suddenly feeling something akin to constipation, Astrotrain flew an extremely wobbly course past Alpha Centauri and growled. "Stop squabbling or we're gonna crash!"
Twenty minutes later…
Remarkably little energon had been split, despite the urgency of the fighting. It had helped that all of the combatants had put in a good twelve to fourteen hours of combat prior to this scrap, but in the end, there could only be one victor.
Wheezing audibly and supported by Rumble and Frenzy, Soundwave stood tall, his optic band casting a calm stare over the losers decorating Astrotrain's cargo hold.
He had won.
He and his beloved creations had defeated all pretenders to the throne.
He would be the new Decepticon leader.
The newest and shortest-serving Decepticon leader, if history was kind to him.
"Boss?"
He gently squeezed Frenzy's shoulder-plating.
"New orders; issued. Objective; retrieve Megatron."
Rumble's optic band brightened. "Seriously?"
"Affirmative."
The twins made a move towards Astrotrain's cockpit cabin, their creator following in their wake…
SCHOOOM SCHOOOM
"AAAAAAARGH!"
Soundwave collapsed with a scream, his back-plating smoking in the thin atmosphere.
Rumble and Frenzy span round in horror. Ravage, too weak to walk, roared in anger. Laserbeak screeched.
Soundwave's plating felt like it was on fire.
He struggled to vent air. He could feel his eldest twins frantically propping him upright, one twin cuddled under each arm.
The feeling of a null-ray barrel digging painfully into the back of his cranium dragged him out of his agony.
"Stop. Right. There."
Starscream.
He risked turning his head just enough to glare at the Air Commander.
Starscream's lips were pulled back in a slasher smile. Both null-rays began to whine as they charged up.
The other barrel was pointed directly at Ravage and Laserbeak.
"One more move Soundwave, and I'll cripple you just long enough so that you can watch all of your little misbegotten freaks die in agony."
Soundwave froze.
"And then you will die, as soon as the life leaves your youngest. Of course, I'll miss seeing your whore of a bondmate pass along with you, but…"
He shrugged and chuckled humourlessly.
"…It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
Soundwave knew he was in no physical shape to fight the Air Commander now. And more importantly, Starscream had just threatened his creations, and by proxy, Nightraider.
Direct threats made to his loved ones were the only situations that he was vulnerable to, and Starscream knew it.
Megatron had known it too.
He had said, less than two years ago, that Soundwave's loyalty was forever divided after he had bonded with Nightraider.
That his care and compassion for his mate made him a liability.
What had gone unsaid, was that he had always been a liability.
His love for his creations had forever marked him as a danger to the Decepticon cause, long before he had ever joined the rebellion.
Soundwave had always known that, and equally he had always known that his devotion was not a weakness.
Compassion, bravery, and love were not purely Autobot traits.
He had joined the Decepticon cause to protect his family, to have the freedom to love them and be loved back.
Several thousand vorns later and in a night that was long overdue, he had added the red and black Femme CMO to that exclusive group.
He would not risk that now.
Not even for…not even for his lord.
Megatron…forgive me.
He pressed a shaking hand to his chestplates and bowed his head.
"Soundwave…yields."
The null-rays dropped away.
Starscream snorted and turned to climb into the cockpit.
"You're weak, Soundwave. They make you weak. That femme bitch you claimed makes you weak."
Soundwave directed a glare into the back of the F-15's cranium, but stayed silent, choosing to keep a restraining hand on Rumble's and Frenzy's shoulders.
The smallest whisper of longing, jealousy, and grief clouded Starscream's parting words.
"Love makes you weak."
Soundwave was left alone in the hold, venting in pain, feeling his creations' fear and relief buffet against his mind.
His tanks were almost empty.
With Rumble and Frenzy's help, he managed to settle himself against the nearest wall, leaning against Blitzwing's unconscious bulk. The twins snuggled against him, one tucked under each arm; Laserbeak settled on his shoulder, while Ravage pressed his battered frame gently against his side and purred in desperate relief.
He used the tiniest of movements to uncover the blue transmitter from under his wrist plating.
He had prayed to Primus that he would never have to use it, but if ever there was a time to follow his leader's final request, it was now.
Soundwave bowed his head, and opened the bond between himself and Nightraider, feeling his spark stretch over space and time itself.
The pain oddly soothed him, granted him some much-needed focus.
Starscream was wrong.
Love and loyalty made him stronger than anyone thought possible.
Love and loyalty could ignite the stars.
And at the very least, it could ignite another Decepticon rebellion.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
The communicator set itself to transmission only.
"Soundwave; transmitting. Shockwave; acknowledge…"
Cybertron, Imperial City State of Iacon, the Imperial Tower, Medical Bay...
The oh-so-familiar pain of a stretched spark bond ricocheted around Nightraider's spark chamber as she typed up her notes on the various injuries inflicted on the Stunticons and Combaticons. Crossfire, thankfully calmer since the passing of the Prime, clasped his cuddly cyber-cat against his chestplates as he recharged in Knock Out's tentative embrace. Outside the CMO's office, Lyzack and Dreadnought were carefully ministering medical treatment and advice to the assembled mechs and femmes who had gathered in the medbay shortly after Shockwave's announcement.
The treatment and advice, from what she could ascertain, amounted to a shot of medicinal high-grade and a statement of 'hey, all the slaggers back in the Golden Age survived the death of a Prime. Suck it up and move on.'
Knock Out, parked on the couch next to Nightraider's desk and cuddling Crossfire while safely ensconced in Breakdown's arms, gazed up at his commanding officer.
"'Raider?"
The red and black F-14 didn't look away from her computer screen. "No, you aren't allowed any high-grade until you're off-duty, and off-duty means whenever Strike Team Alpha returns to base."
The Aston Martin rolled his optics. "Not what I was about to ask but thank you for the rather depressing clarification."
"What then?"
Knock Out freed one hand, pressed the palm down over his chestplates, and shared a quiet glance with Breakdown.
"Is this what victory's supposed to feel like?"
The frantic sounds of keyboard tapping died away as the meaning behind his question registered. Nightraider pressed a hand to her own chestplates and shuttered her optics.
She had been a few hundred vorns past her majority when Sentinel Prime had fallen at the hands of Megatron, as she had later discovered. She had been part of the Decepticon army for almost ten vorns at that point, living in the tunnels under Kaon, patching assorted mechs and femmes up after gladiatorial bouts and helping the Constructicons ration out their dwindling medical supplies.
As the pain had ricocheted through her spark, driving her to her knees, a tiny part of her had rejoiced in the sensation – everything that had been taken, everything that had been banned or restricted, every cruelty the Autobots had inflicted upon her, on her friends, on those she loved - they were now experiencing that pain and loss a thousand-fold.
See how they liked it for once.
But that was Sentinel. One of the nastier pieces of work to get his servos on the Matrix of Leadership. Few mechs had actually mourned his passing beyond the socially acceptable minimums.
But Orion Pax of Iacon.
Optimus Prime.
He had been a very different kettle of electro-fish.
A simple data-clerk, and a favourite of Alpha Trion at the time of his ascension. The less said of Trion, the better, but Orion…Optimus…
She had never dared ask what anyone else had felt in the depths of their sparks upon the ascension of Optimus Prime, purely out of fear that no-one else had felt what she had felt.
Power.
Triumph.
Sparkbreak.
Determination.
What felt like a touch of immortality, but if not that, then at least a touch of something.
At the very least, it had caused a fire to burn within the souls of those who still called Cybertron home.
If Megatron's rebellion was to succeed, he would have to defeat the sensations that reverberated through the sparks of every Cybertronian.
She had grown to suspect, over the vorns, that the Decepticon emperor would have been content with defeating the Prime, but not necessarily offlining him. He had never taken well to anyone else challenging the Prime; perhaps because of that sensation.
But now…now Optimus Prime was dead, and there was no immediate successor in play.
All of the intelligence gathered by Shockwave and Leviathan indicated command of the Autobots would fall to Prowl, and failing him, to Ultra Magnus or to Jazz.
When the calling of a new Prime would happen, no-one knew.
Until then, all of Cybertron would have to live with the broken, sick sensation within their very souls; the feeling that they had squandered and lost something infinitely more worthy than any one of them could ever be.
She ex-vented deeply and looked up at Knock Out.
"I'm guessing it's what Megatron wanted in some shape or form. We've won; whatever you count winning as."
The Aston Martin frowned and rubbed at his chestplates.
"But it feels…I don't know, empty."
"I think the word you're looking for is anticlimactic."
"…Is it always going to feel like this?"
"A very wise organic once said, 'after a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting'. Maybe it'll go away, maybe it won't." [1]
Off of the EMT's spark-broken look, she sighed and tried again.
"I don't know, Red. If Megatron's got a grand plan for what comes next, he's never shared it with anyone."
Knock Out blinked and sadly leaned back against Breakdown, snuggling further into his lover's blocky frame.
"I just…didn't think it'd feel like this."
"I don't think anyone did. But it is what it is. All we can do is work with it."
BEEP BEEP BEEP
PRIORITY ALPHA-ONE. PLEASE ATTEND CAREFULLY.
Deep inside the brand on her chestplates, a long-hidden subroutine activated itself, connected to her nervous system and overrode all of her higher CPU functions.
She paused and gasped in horror.
Her hands dropped to her sides. Her optics grew empty.
No.
No no no no no.
D-16 HAS FALLEN. SILENCE THE SUN.
She knew exactly what that transmission meant.
What it heralded.
And what she, what they, had to do now.
She stood up and strode out of her office, Knock Out and Breakdown following along confusedly in her wake. Dreadnought and Glit flanked her in silent unison.
Lyzack, Knock Out and Breakdown stared helplessly at each other, then quickly pressed themselves to either side of the med-bay doors as a number of troops followed the Femme CMO's lead and marched out of the med-bay.
Outside the doors, Knock Out spotted a number of troops heading in the same direction as his colleagues, all dead of optic, all silent, all purposeful.
More importantly, the vast majority of them were femmes.
He exchanged a baffled look with Lyzack, then quickly turned his attention to Crossfire as the little mech started to stir.
What in Primus's name was going on?
Cybertron, Imperial City State of Iacon, the Great Dome…
The Great Dome of Iacon had served for vorns as the launchpad for all of the Autobot starships and had been the launchpad for the Ark on her fateful energon scouting mission four million years earlier. After the Great Shutdown, the structure had fallen into disrepair, and had only been redeveloped after the Ark's reappearance on Earth. The Decepticons had continued the redevelopment process even after their conquest of Iacon, and the once-battered and rust-covered structure now gleamed under the stars.
After all, the discovery of the Ark had led to the reawakening of both the Autobot and Decepticon forces.
It was also the only structure on Cybertron, other than some of the larger gladiatorial venues, that could hold the sheer volume of Decepticon troops who had been summoned by the mystery message.
Nightraider, Dreadnought and Glit stayed hidden in the shadows of the pavilion, all of their weapons primed but holstered. Before them, the combined forces of the Femme Division and the remnants of the Gladiator Corps were now milling around the floor, life returning to their optics and barely concealed dread growing like an organic cancer in their processors.
Megaempress was flanked by the 4 Guards, her rail fusion cannon strapped safely to her back. Lugnut and Contrail were silent but watchful; Shadowstriker was flicking the safety catch on and off her acid gun and keeping a close optic on Flamewar, who looked like she was barely keeping a lid on her panic and grief.
A commotion at the service hatchway silenced all whispered conversations, and quickly prompted a new wave of terrified speculation.
The crew of Leviathan had arrived.
Switchblade cast a cold gaze over the assembled mechs and femmes before stepping aside to let his crew enter the dome.
Hotwire and Firebreaker immediately broke off from the main group and started working the room, the black marketeer swiftly pulling his more dubious wares from his subspace while the recon specialist covered his back. Duststorm and Astraea broke ranks to gather with the other wet-work femmes milling around the perimeter of the Dome.
Shellshock, Derail, Deadheat, Mismatch and Rampart took point and surrounded Switchblade as he stalked over to one of the old VIP boxes and claimed a seat.
Drive-By, Conduit, Flatline and Pandemic made a beeline towards their fellow medics and engineers, Pandemic exchanging a quick fist-bump with Dreadnought before nodding at Nightraider. Drive-By and Conduit immediately took seats on the floor either side of Glit.
Diabla finally stalked in, casting looks of disgust and derision at every mech and femme present, before she spotted the Femme CMO exchanging anxious words with Flatline.
Her upper lip plating curled.
"Aww, could Tall, Dull and Stoic not protect the boss-mech?"
Flatline and Dreadnought exchanged looks and fearfully watched the purple and gold-plated femme as she shoved her way into the group, finally glaring up into Nightraider's livid faceplates.
"If Screamer finally gets his aft on the throne, we'll all know who to thank."
There was an audible growl in the F-14's vocoder as she glared down at the younger femme. "If Megatron has actually fallen, it will not have been due to negligence on Soundwave's part."
"Oh yeah? The psychic freak was actually halfway useful before he took up with you." Diabla's optics travelled deliberately up and down the older femme's frame. "One shitty frag and he forgets where his true loyalties lie."
Nightraider had to physically restrain herself from punching the twisted sneer off of Diabla's faceplates.
"Then again, he wouldn't be the first mech to stray from the cause after travelling up your well-trodden path."
The one tiny part of Nightraider's CPU not currently dedicated to suppressing primal rage noted that justifiable homicide was such a lovely phrase.
"At least Soundwave had already squeezed out his creations and made his name before you got your talons into him. What's wrong, Screamer wasn't enough for you?"
Farewell restraint, you tried.
Hello murderous rage, it's been a while.
Diabla found herself pinned two feet from the ground against a crumbling golden column, a black plated hand tightening around her neck plates and the hum of a charging null-ray filling the air as the barrel was pressed between her optics.
Dreadnought, Glit and the Leviathan's medics took a few collective steps backwards as Nightraider closed the distance between herself and her target, dental plates bared in a snarl and her optics blazing red.
"Go on Diabla. Push it. One. More. Inch."
The younger femme clawed futilely at the talons digging into her neck. She wheezed and bared her dental plates in a sadistic grin.
"…Pretty sure…you told more than a few mechs…to do just that."
The tip of the null-ray pressed against Diabla's helm glowed white-hot. Nightraider's dental plates were clenched together so tightly she was amazed sparks weren't coming off of them. The whine of the charging weapon steadily filled the air…
…And was cut off as Dreadnought grabbed the older femme from behind, pinned her arms to her sides and lifted her about ten feet off the ground.
Diabla collapsed to the battered metal floor, clutching at her crushed neck plating. Conduit scooted over to her and scanned her chassis for any further damage.
"Let me go, let me go, let me go!" Nightraider thrashed helplessly in Dreadnought's grip, her pedes pedalling madly in the air.
"I just wanna see the insides of her CPU after I shoot her through the head!"
Drive-By grabbed her by the back of her neck cabling just long enough to hiss, "You can't kill her, we still need her!"
The younger femme cast a baleful look up at the struggling F-14.
"Like some decrepit whore of a medic could ever kill me."
"Oh Primus…"
Conduit stood up, grabbed Diabla by the arm and hauled her towards Switchblade's VIP box.
"One orn, you really will get shot, and none of us will do anything to stop it."
"'Raider? 'Raider…'RAIDER!"
Nightraider finally stopped thrashing long enough to glare over her shoulder plate at Dreadnought. "What!?"
"I'd say let it go, but I've been saying that for most of my lifetime. At least…don't kill her until we know what's going on?"
The Femme CMO dragged in a vent of air and closed her optics.
"Fine."
Dreadnought finally let her drop semi-gracefully to the floor.
"But I still get dibs if she ever ends up on the gallows."
Dreadnought's optic roll was hidden under his visor. Drive-By, Flatline and Pandemic glanced at each other briefly before Pandemic shrugged.
"Eh. Fine by us."
Glit looked askance at the group.
"You would actually permit a senior officer to kill one of your own crew?"
Flatline leaned back against the wall. "We're only 'family' up to a point. Any actual family-unit stuff?"
He held his hands up. "We stay the Pit out of that."
SKREEEEEEEEEEeeeeTHOTOTHOTH
The assembled mechs and femmes all cringed and covered their audials at the feedback loop screeching through the Dome's speakers.
Shockwave calmly removed the microphone from under his left shoulder piston and settled it on the stand before him.
This was not going to be pleasant.
A small part of his CPU noted a sensation of relief at knowing which members of Strike Team Alpha had survived to retell their mission.
Another part of his CPU was calculating the variables regarding the current strength of the Autobot forces, and how long, if at all, it would take for them to nominate a new Prime.
A much larger part of his CPU noted the sensation of dread flooding his systems at how the assembly before him was going to react to the message he had received from Soundwave.
But delaying any further would not lessen the blow, nor would it aid in executing Lord Megatron's final request.
"Your attention, Chosen."
The snarls of pain and abusive litany below died down to a vaguely threatening murmur.
"You are the Chosen because, at your branding ceremonies, you were nominated as the ones who were worthy of carrying out the ruling of our founder, even beyond his offlining.
"You are the ones who remain loyal to the cause, not to the figurehead.
"You are the ones who will carry out our founder's last will and testament, and lead Cybertron into a new Golden Age."
Shockwave paused for a moment, and quietly took in a vent of air.
Oddly, he wished for both Dreadnought and Crossfire's presence beside him.
An illogical thought.
"At 15:47 Iacon Time, the following message was transmitted by Soundwave of Kaon, communications specialist of Strike Team Alpha: Optimus Prime; deceased. Autobot City; crippled. Surviving members of Strike Team Alpha; Ramjet, Thrust, Dirge, the Reflector trio, Blitzwing, Astrotrain, Soundwave and all six creations, and Starscream. Critically damaged members of Strike Team Alpha ejected on popular vote; Skywarp, Thundercracker, Kickback, Shrapnel and Bombshell. Critically damaged members of Strike Team Alpha ejected on Starscream's orders; Megatron.
"Subsequent leadership contest; won by shot to the back from Starscream. D-16 has fallen. Silence the Sun."
The assorted mechs and femmes broke into frantic babbles of conversation. He spotted Nightraider slumping in relief against Dreadnought, optics brimming with tears, and Flamewar being supported by Megaempress and Shadow Striker, her dark, elegant faceplates now pale with shock.
"Astrotrain has now passed into range of Cybertron's long-range satellite system and I have confirmed the numbers and designations of the survivors of Strike Team Alpha. I can confirm that Lord Megatron is not among the survivors."
Shockwave bowed his head in acknowledgement of the lost members of Strike Team Alpha. Others were quick to follow his example.
"Upon his ascent to the Imperial throne of Cybertron, Lord Megatron was aware that his reign would not be eternal, and he subsequently made leadership preparations for a number of scenarios in which his spark was terminated before its allotted fade-out. Most of these scenarios involved assassination attempts. All of those scenarios involve command of the Decepticon Empire passing to a select group of senior officers, and all of those scenarios share the same final directive.
"Our final directive from Lord Megatron, is to perform one critical action."
He cast a cold optic over the gathering.
"Kill Starscream."
TBC
[1] Spock, ST: TOS, 'Amok Time'.