Author's Notes: The third chapter for SOS Dinobots. I am currently debating which episode to do next. Weighing options between 4 different ones, not in any particular season or order. Eventually I will be tackling the three-part episode that began it all but not yet. I need to get more comfortable in this and I still have other stories in progress to add to. Check my profile for more fun reads. Onward to correcting mistakes.
S.O.S. DINOBOTS
Season 1 episode 7. October 27, 1984
Part Three
Great Falls – Between the Cascade Locks Area and Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state
"I need to call for help, get some help. We really need help here," Spike chanted softly, straining to hear whistling sounds as the Decepticons soared off downriver. Peering cautiously over the rocky top, the immediate area looked clear of metal threats. Dirt encrusted his yellow boots and the knees of his jeans were soiled from kneeling as he rubbed at his palms. The gritty brown dust fell off his skin and clothes to float away in the soft breeze. Sliding down the rocky incline he ran to the back doors of Prime's trailer and pulled. Nothing. The alien silver metal felt warm under his touch with no visible latching mechanism. "Sealed tight! Roller? Can you hear me?" Beeps, whistles and whirring noises echoed from inside.
"I don't understand what you're saying. Can you unlock this door? Or call for help?"
A long mournful sounding warble echoed.
"Means no. Great. Rolling battle platform and no way to open it. Have to talk to Optimus about that." The boy slumped, half sitting on the back bumper with his mind racing. The beautiful area as a national park had no cellphone service and he had seen Soundwave and his cassettes. Their presence meant frequencies jammed or routed elsewhere, including distress signals. Which left him. The single lane road down the cliff wound for miles back to the main gates. Bypassing the river and cutting across land was out with the damaged cliff and the longer he took, the less chance of surviving they all had.
"What would my dad do?" The sounds of clinking rocks scattering snapped Spike around. A bright yellow Volkswagen rolled closer, his engine noise barely audible.
"Bumblebee! Optimus ordered you to stay at headquarters," Spike's greeting to the young warrior made him wince. Could the human have shouted any louder? Decepticons had hearing too. No wonder Soundwave had fooled him into being picked up and carried in his backpack.
"I don't like to disobey. But I had to do something," he admitted. A quick medical scan confirmed no injuries to Spike's fragile body as he opened the driver side door. The gush of air out the pressurized cab carried away the final clothing nanites.
Wheels spinning rapidly, the scout reversed while letting Spike grab the steering wheel. Only the knuckle whitening tightness on the wheel indicating the boy's raised stress level. The scout muffled his external sounds racing away, stealth overlays protecting him from being detected or heard unless alongside his alt mode. The strain on his systems damaging over the long term but necessary.
:: AUTOBOT FORCES – ENCRYPTED DATA BURST. HELP REQUIRED:: ROLLER, PRIME.
::ACKNOWLEDGE AND ACCEPT DATA BURST:: B-127
Roller's message spelled out; the small unit was worried with the sudden lack of contact.
::ENCRYPTED DATA BURST. INSTRUCTIONS. STAY SAFE:: B-127
::RECEIVED AND FOLLOWING. UNTIL ALL ARE ONE :: ROLLER, PRIME
It was possible but not probable the Cons would leave the trailer alone. Previous encounters had taught them it was booby trapped and capable of protecting itself with programmed settings. And Prime considered it his. Any damage to it he took personally. If they considered Prime neutralized, even temporarily, Roller was in danger.
Instructions ordered Roller to escape, staying in contact with the trailer unlocked by Bumblebee's command override. If Prime called the trailer to himself, Roller would reenter and go with it. If not, he was to remain hidden nearby in full stealth mode and hopefully safe until rescued. Bee couldn't take him with them, the speeds too fast and the distance too great for the mini lunar explorer. A good symbiote, the unit carried a sliver of a spark spire and essence of Optimus' spark itself. An act by Alpha Trion which Optimus both blessed and cursed. Blessed for the understanding and love the symbiote offered back, cursed for any damage to it he felt as his own pain. And the responsibility of protecting him in battles, firmly refusing to put him in harm's way with weaponry for battling. Bumblebee wanted Roller safe, shying away from the fact that if Optimus offlined, the little explorer unit was all they would have left of him.
"Did you hear what I just said?" A soft tapping on his steering wheel registered. Super speed, he played back the conversation spoken while driving and creating data bursts.
"Yes Spike. Monitoring and making sure we are not followed and no, Optimus would never exile me for this. He helped raise me remember?" The scout reminded.
"Ground you for the rest of your existence then?"
"Ouch. Process I went too far this time?"
"He seemed pretty irritated even after ordering them locked away. I would let him cool down for maybe ten to twenty years before getting on his bad side."
"He doesn't have a bad side. That's why he is Prime. And if we bring back reinforcements, a good fight will help settle him."
"Uh, why are your seats pink?" Spike looked around, seeing his entire interior repainted a soft pink. "Twins prank you again?"
"No."
"Ratchet's temper?"
Soft laughter filled the car interior, the bumpiness of the road hidden under the bouncing movement as his alt mode vibrated. "Welded to the ceiling if that happened. I lost a bet to Mirage. "
"For?" Spike prompted, wondering what the scout had finally gotten wrong.
"I be the Dinobots would work. They didn't. Could have been worse. Mirage bet Gears he couldn't use the word energon for a week. "
"How is that bad?" G-force slid Spike sideways, the seatbelt tightening as they drifted through the curves over twice the posted speed limit.
"Gears oversees supplies next week including the energon reports to Command. His lack of using that word without being able to say why will irritate the others. Especially Ratchet and Jazz."
"A minor detail and sounds like fun. And remind me to call my dad later. He left to town with the supply truck for metal parts before Hound reported back. He probably thinks I am still out scouting."
"Now who is defying their parental mech? He said to be careful and stay out of trouble."
"I am careful. I'm safe with you and I was authorized to be at the Dam," Spike countered. The alt mode rattled, Bumblebee shifting internal gears to bypass another failing cog gear. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"Been worse. And Optimus once fought with an arm torn off, stab wounds in his side against Megatron and another leader class mech while dodging automated fire from drones. Building the Dinobots kept every bot so busy I avoided my quarterly joor checkup. Ratchet throwing wrenches for delaying repairs is not high on my priority list. I have a few gaskets blown." Internally, Bumblebee smiled at the acronym, spoken as a general term but not heard as an acronym and a creation of Jazz. G.A.S.K.E.T.S. meaning Gears, Assembly, Sealants, Kaput Even T-Cog Slagged. He focused outward as the conversation resumed.
"You had guts for challenging and saying, 'come get me."
"My exact words were 'Come on Grimlock. Try stepping on a bug."
"More like an ant."
"Ants are bugs. And I like the term. I learned bugs have value. Spiders are skillful in weaving webs of geometric designs to eliminate pests while the intricacy of their work is marveled at by human cultures. And some of the species are deadly for their smaller size and feared. Bumblebees defy the laws of physics with their flight and butterflies are living proof of the galaxies basic rule if there were no changes nothing beautiful could occur. Fire ants and locusts are pests individually and deadly in numbers. Bugs are categorized and studied while surviving everything nature and you humans throw at them, sometimes literally. Children's stories, animated movies and books are written about them. Bugs on earth are necessary and valued, no matter how small their contribution. And he never touched me. It was Teletran's explosion that hit me remember. I should have rolled away faster."
"Why didn't you then?"
"Safety protocols for you inside my cab. The speed I can accelerate to creates whiplash or would snap your neck bones and be fatal. We may look like cars, but we are not limited to that disguise."
"I am learning that. Why didn't you transform after I climbed out?"
"My geo sync balance compensators were offline after rolling over and over in alt mode. The energy to lock around my spark and compensators I redirected into laser restraints around you to prevent injury since you were not wearing a seat belt. Autobots do not have air bags. I did not want to pick your teeth out of my simulated dash or wipe blood off my side windows and seats. I just need a few more astro seconds to reset."
"So, you were dizzy?""
"Not in so many words. And even a human can outrun a tyrannosaurus rex. They are built for brute strength, not speed. Alt mode wheels worked."
"Wait. In those dinosaur movies," Spike began challenging.
"Do you believe everything you see in a movie?"
"Course not."
"Me either."
"Did Cybertron have movies?"
"After a fashion. I can explain later. Right now we need to rescue our friends. Sit back and hold on. Releasing the speed governors on my engine. Mirage and Wheeljack are not the only race cars around." Bumblebee's speedometer rocketed past one hundred miles an hour and climbed steadily as he raced. Heat panels and influx vents were replaceable, his family was not.
Below the Great Falls and Upriver from Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state
"Why is your energy signature blue with Matrix power?" Megatron rumbled, closing in until his chin plate almost touched Prime's facemask edge. The ancient mech and his followers were chained upright to the rock wall. Their reinforced chains blazed in the bright sun, the light warming down to their struts as the water soaked nanites fell to the ground. Technologically designed for a metallic world, the rushing river and the muddy residue were never factored in as the units failed.
"I should save this image to show to your precious Elita One. Chained up and helpless before my might. As I have imagined you both many a time, begging for mercy under endless torture."
"Leave her out of this. Or else!"
"Was that a threat? The water must have soaked more than your processors brother. You cannot save those chained up on either side of you. I had contemplated ripping them apart as you watched but it's a waste of effort and time. Finish off the lot of you and be done with it. But you," he placed his hand flat over the other's spark armor. "I will rip out the Matrix then your spark to grind it under ped to become the Prime our race should have had. You have interfered for the last time." His fingers tightened, gouges appearing underneath in the red armor.
"Arrggh! What is this!" Arcs of blue power rippled up Megatron's arm, his hand flaring out flat to almost bend backwards on the finger joints. Twitching, the warrior mech regarded his foe with narrowed optics.
"The Matrix rejects you. As it always has and always will," Prime stated.
"No matter," he growled stepping back, the metal on his shaking arm softly clanging. "I can rule without it. It was never about the title or carrying that ancient relic."
"What is it then that drives you? Your ego? Besting me?"
"Power. The absolute power to conquer. None can stand before the technological might we possess to take over the galaxy. I let you live to see my victory over the old ways that kept us enslaved and you form the Autobots. I allow Elita One and her pitiful group of femmes to exist and roam freely and it was not enough. You still defy me, here on earth. I will enslave this organic excuse of a world to gather resources enough to return home and build our war base. Army upon army into space with one purpose. One goal. One glorious destiny. Transformers to rule everything."
"And what of the billions across countless worlds that will die under you?"
"A necessary paradigm. Barren worlds are still examples of what happens when you defy me, even this earth. I will drain it dry. If only one world is left to be ruled under my command it is enough. Starscream!"
"Yes leader?"
"Call the others here. Let them share in my victory as we blast them into oblivion. Make sure Reflector attends. I want him to record this moment for glorious prosperity as my new age of conquest begins."
"At once sire," Starscream acknowledged, backing slowly away. The nearly black color of Megatron's optics and maniacal laugh warning enough.
The Ark, Autobot base – Mt St Hilary, Oregon State
Leaning forward to peer out the windshield, Spike nearly cried in relief seeing the orange metal of the Ark. The thudding rapid heartbeat eased while his hands relaxed gripping the seat belt strap. Decepticons had not attacked or chased them down and the Ark appeared undamaged. Desperate audio calls had gone unanswered, neither of them sure if Bumblebee's communications were out or if the Ark had been attacked. They prayed Ratchet and Wheeljack were simply off comm and intent on their work, Teletran repairs incomplete. "Ready to try serious acting like in the movies?"
"Why?" Bumblebee slowed, signaling the outer blast doors to open and let him in.
"Command center records everything. Your report to Ratchet and plea for help will be seen by Prowl and Prime later. Maybe garner a lesser punishment?"
"Might work."
Fifteen minutes later they both stared at the enormous void blasted in the volcanic rock wall. "Talk about dramatics," Bumblebee quipped. Crumbling pieces of lava rock continued falling more slagged than broken via the Dinobots weapons. Sunlight reflected in, contrasting with the dark shadows in the unused space.
"More cartoon fun. Transformer mech shaped holes and they fly away. If they return safely, make this the entrance to their Dino cave," Spike noted.
"Wheelajck is with them, it should go ok. He mentioned trying a new weapon. I need to go help Ratchet subspace more emergency equipment before we drive back."
"Can't we fly? They did."
"Remember me mentioning skipping repairs? My right flight jet is out. And Ratchet rarely flies. The risk of injury is too great. He needs exact system calibrations to repair all of us, not to oppose headwinds or smack and tumble with a failed landing."
Upriver from the Multnomah Falls, The Gorge, Oregon state
"Megatron has fallen!"
"No, I cannot be defeated," Megatron processed rapidly, fighting the urge to purge his energon. The weaponized shells fracturing his equilibrium and dropping him to ruin his moment of victory. Helplessly he heard Starscream take command with his collapse. "Usurping my place to fight those monster things, instead of terminating the Autobots. That idiot!" Roaring and rumbling sounds echoed with the fight continuing as he groveled, fighting to balance back up and off his hands and kneepads.
Wheeljack smiled as his creations worked per his design, his helm sidebars flashing deep blue. Megatron was down and disabled, even temporarily. The Dinobots attack was kicking aft and he had a clear path to his chained-up friends. Even he winced as Grimlock bit a wingspan, sounds of compacting metal followed by screams of pain. Stepping around Megatron, the inventor calculated less than a ten percent chance he could offline the Dark Lord himself. Injure or disable yes, punch through enough of the armor with damage to offline, not probable. And every astro second wasted trying meant another astro second for the fighters to hurt his own. "Deal with you later. I have my friends to save."
"I will not be stopped. I will rip those fins from your helm personally!" Raising up, Megatron's frame rattled as the world continuing spinning and dipping around him, system input defying the fact he remained immobile.
Warning! Reduce flight spinning. Gyro factors need resetting.
System intrusion noted. Micro inhibitor shells fragments mid riff. Removal required.
Equilibrium processors undamaged. Parameters beyond established boundaries.
Self-repair operating 100%. Mid plate damage under repair. Estimate time unavailable.
Decepticon Combat status: Decreasing rapidly.
Starscream: Hull and wing damage. Flight mode limited.
Thundercracker: Hull and landing gear damage. Transform locked pending repairs.
Rumble: Limited operating ability. Pile driver arms damaged. Unable to attach.
Skywarp: Multiple punctures left wing and struts, bent plating on frame with collision damage via Soundwave.
Soundwave: Collision damage from Skywarp, chest slide cracked and inoperative. Cassettes locked inside.
Reflector: Two of three combiner forms damaged. Puncture marks on frames.
Partial system reboot. System interlocks online. Weapon transforms active.
"Starscream, get down here! I will transform and show those monsters true power!"
On the ground, Wheeljack blinked once as Megatron soared up, transforming into his weapon's mode. Systems noted the tech involved to transform the leader class mech into a slimline gun then dismissed it, no longer the novelty it had been. "What's this? My friends weapons." Digging into the pile, he felt like rejoicing. The weapons an easy resource and undamaged condition meant his tech had not been hacked to be stolen and duplicated. Their optics widened as he faced his teammates, weapon in each hand.
"Don't worry. Aim is set to wide disburse and help. The combined energy will blast those pesky nanites and reset your energy and self-repair."
Prime smirked, his expression hid as Megatron's blasts flowed across synchronized armor to disburse uselessly. Then it was the Dinobots turn. Their blasts hit hard, severing the mech from Starscream and dropping him. "That's how it feels! Hurts doesn't it!" Prime cheered, feeling sheepish as the others paused grabbing their weapons to look over at his uncharacteristic shout. The unlocked rifle in his hand felt right as he approached the other's downed form. Any sign of resistance and he would take sparks.
"Enough! We must retreat. Retreat!"
"And there they go, up and away like always," Wheeljack stated.
"Pretty shaky flights this time. And bucket head tailing them. No free ride home," Ironhide chuckled.
"Did we win, or they just quit?" Trailbreaker stumbled, his systems setting last. His higher use of energon and interlaced connections for generating his force field requiring more sensors and therefore more to unblock.
"The Dinobots chased them off as we designed them to," Wheeljack noted with pride.
"I also ordered them shut down and the tribunal agreed. I must clarify a few things before we continue," Prime stated firmly.
"Ask away. I will explain if I can."
Ironhide frowned at the inventor's cheerful tone, wanting to hear a crisp 'yes sir' or respectful tone. The scientist's neutral status irked him, his protests falling on deaf audios with Prowl and Jazz. Cleared with full access, he could go anywhere and work on anything with command approval but not their understanding, the tech too advanced or crazy yet sanctioned.
"You obviously upgraded their systems. They talk and carry weapons. Why upgrade their processor chips? I believed we agreed on simple brains."
"Originally but no design ever stops at the test run stage. I first processed simpler would work, to avoid the ethical question of their use. I encrypted the coding with the ability to learn and increase their intelligence as our processors do. I sped it up same as one of our upgrades. They are no longer drones."
"Reactor mess Jack! They do not have sparks!" Ironhide grumbled.
"Neither did we in the beginning. Under the Quintessons our race were slaves then gained sparks. If we have ten Grimlock, fifty Grimlock, or even a hundred Grimlock what are they? Slaves? Drones to be created, dumped and forgotten as our ancestors?"
"Sparks are how we determine life," Mirage reminded.
"Humans don't have a spark," Hound countered, having taken a liking to humans and their planet. He would speak for them. "Even short lived they think and feel and communicate and am alive. Just because they have no glowing power in their organic shells are they drones?"
"No. I begin to see where you are going with this," Prime reasoned. He recalled arguments with Megatron over the same subject. Sparks lost in the mines of Kaon or shattered in the Gladiator Pits for entertainment of the higher class mechs. What made an existence valuable to be considered a life worth protecting and fighting to keep?
"How many alien races have we encountered in our space travels to trade or negotiate with and never considered their lack of sparks making them less, just different?" Bluestreak spoke up, surprising them all.
"If we met the Dinobots as earth mechs, would the situation be different?" Wheeljack continued.
"They would still be dangerous. Why did you program their armor kinetics to block my weapons?" Prime prodded. The dent in his back plate from hitting the wall after the ricochet blast was irritating, dropping his weapon while being caught off guard worse, both embarrassing and dangerous. If Wheeljack had lost his objectivity while knowing all the Autobot systems he became a major tactical risk. A risk to be eliminated or tightly controlled. Exile was not an option for any bot who knew all their secrets intimately.
"I didn't. They're programmed to prevent Megatron from blasting them, absorbing the energy to throw it back. You and he are spark related and your frequencies are very close I admit. Your systems mirror each other with the biggest and best weaponry. I can refine the settings, calibrate for his enhanced cannon while lessening yours. Doable with some tinkering, if you allow," Wheeljack trailed off, his processors already designing new schematics pending their continued existence.
::You didn't have your battle computer online during the presentation fight did ya? Trusted optics to hit without targeting sensors to warn. Ain't I taught you better than that?:: Ironhide prodded on a separate command frequency.
::Hush you. Or I'll drop you back in the river:: Prime mock threatened.
::Like ya could youngling. Next training session be ready for an aft kicking :: Ironhide closed the comm line.
"If we allow them to remain functioning, what will you do?" Prime prodded.
"I will teach them manners and teach them our ways. Be there for them when they need somebot to listen or explain difficult situations while maturing. Offer comfort and love when they are hurt and rejoice with them when they are happy. Worry when they fight and welcome them home when they return. Offer guidance and hope they listen."
Prime deep vented, caught in a dilemma. The inventor spoke as though they were his sparklings and not a lab creation. And they had potential to become more, the very premise of Transformer existence. Whatever he would have asked next froze on his lip plates, the Matrix flaring to life. Ancient Cybertronian glyphs, the language of the Primes flowed across his vision. "Team" settled over the Dinobots as "Accept" hovered over Wheeljack.
'Why?' The single question posed to the device to which he entrusted his life and the others. Trusting the accumulated wisdom of their entire race stored in it. And its link to the original Primes who guided their future. "Why them?"
Images flowed across his vision, as though snapshots of a scene out of time.
A golden metal world devouring another planet.
Kup telling the Dinobots a story. Kup, the oldest living Wrecker who they had not heard from in vorns and even processed lost. His elite battle team still on Cybertron and infrequently in contact with Ultra Magnus.
"He's still online," Prime mused, missing his former teacher.
Grimlock as a T-Rex growling, a small orange and white youngling perched safely on his neck plates. Both challenging a round teeth filled attacker, backing him down to retreat among others of its rounded kind.
Grimlock walking around as a T-Rex wearing a giant human style apron and carrying a food tray.
'So they do prove useful for more than battle.'
Ultra Magnus and a mech he didn't recognize in red and yellow armor thanking them. "We could not have won this without your help."
"Let this mark the end of the Cybertronian wars as we march forward to a new age," the unknown mech spoke.
The vision's meaning clear. Somewhere, somehow the Dinobots were yet needed.
'I will honor the wisdom you offer, and I have a feeling I will be seeking more of it in the future if they are what helps save our race.' The Matrix hummed in response; a feeling akin to satisfaction pouring off it.
As Prime went quiet and repairs began on the injured, the Dinobots conversed among themselves on a private team frequency.
::Me Grimlock like Wheeljack mech. Him be good parental bot:: Grimlock
::Me Slag like Ratchet parental femme. Angry fighter. She better:: Slag
::Me process you full of beryllium baloney. Both creators good. And how know which femme or mech?:: Sludge asked.
::Files say femme comfort, heal and take care of younglings. She does that for hurt bots:: Grimlock waved a stubby arm at Ratchet sealing a deep gash in Bluestreak's side.
::And others call Wheeljack him. They know. Me Slag learning:: Slag
::What they call us?:: Sludge
::Dinobots. Rest not important. We not come when called, we come fight:: Grimlock stated, initiating his transform to mech mode.
Bumblebee rolled in, letting Spike out. His transform sound nearly hiding a grinding gear sound, indicating injuries.
Prime regarded the young mech feeling a surge of pride and love for his bravery. Then he saw Wheeljack's optics, the wide center optics showing a trace of his fear. Fear his creations would be destroyed. A penalty worse than exile.
"Okay Optimus Prime, we admit we disobeyed your orders," Bumblebee admitted, a mature seriousness he often lacked now present.
"And whatever punishment you have in mind we deserve," Wheeljack braced.
"But face it Optimus Prime, if they had obeyed your orders you'd all be goners by now," Spike spoke up.
The aged leader hid a smile. He had been called both his name and his title by those he considered family more than soldiers. They had admitted guilt and showed a responsibility for their actions, an improvement for both mechs. And the human spoke up for his friends, pleading their case based on a life debt. That he could work with and remind them subtly he was still in charge.
"Indeed. Sometimes even the wisest of men and machines can be in error. I have no reprimand for Wheeljack or Bumblebee. But as for the Dinobots, they have proven their value. The Dinobots shall remain among us."
Cheering meet his announcement, the command explicit in in the words. 'And Primus help us all,' he processed.
::Are you off your processors?:: Ironhide sent to him alone.
::What would you have me do? Tackle them into submission, exile our best inventor leaving him vulnerable to attack and turn the humans against us?:: Prime countered, feeling tired and wanting to recharge. Reports would wait. Communicating with the Matrix drained his spark and injuries still pinged and ached.
::Those walking tin cans are going to be trouble. We can't turn them loose on this world and where they going to recharge and empty waste tanks? Not in our area!:: Ironhide grumbled.
:With their creator. He rarely uses his personal quarters to recharge and as our only neutral he has no roommates:: Prime countered, rolling a tight shoulder cog. The roughness jarred his sensors, creating a nasty burr resonance down the arm.
::How would you know that?:: Ironhide
::Ratchet's reports on his functioning every time he is rebuilt following a mishap and Prowl's complaints on him not following lab safety and recharging inside. Is this the orn for every bot to challenge me? I can hand over the Matrix and let another lead this crazy crew for the next thousand vorns:: Prime countered.
::Primus take my spark before that happens:: Ironhide
::Rest easy old friend. I do not plan on going anywhere. And what would the Well of Sparks be without us both there?:: Prime
::Quiet and peaceful no doubt. Until my Chromia arrived. Miss sparking with her. Chomping on her wires after she slams me down and gets grabby:: Ironhide trailed off, rumbling.
::TMI. Too much imagery there:: Prime chuckled, closing the comm line.
"I have a question."
"Yes Spike?"
"When they fly home, can I tag along ? A T-Rex jaw would be safely enclosed."
"Me Grimlock like snackies."
"GRIMLOCK!"
"Me kidding. Programming say protect tiny protoform ugly weakling, no eat."
"That's good to know, I think. Second thought, I will stay with my ride here."
Wheeljack patted Grimlock's leg as the others moved away, leaving Bumblebee and the human nearby. "You did good. And we have plans to make you even better."
"We do?"
"We do. Here it is." And the inventor outlined the idea. The other mechs waited their turn to be cleared by medical for the drive home and were beyond their talking range. The worse injured could ride in Prime's trailer once they retrieved it. Only one officer noticed the inventor and scout huddling.
"Secret meeting, I like those," Jazz quipped, startling them all by staring over Bumblebee's shoulder suddenly.
"As I was saying, the same way we saved Optimus. Space bridge in. Grab a handful of sparks, maybe a half dozen and return to earth."
"We only need three," the yellow scout reminded.
"Three for now. The Allspark creates sparks."
"The Allspark is gone. Blasted off into space to save it. Lost my Temple job that way dang it all," Jazz quipped, hiding the pain at seeing the large cube gone to protect it. His facial visor flashed deep blue with remembered emotions.
"But Vector Sigma remains. Almost a hundred sparks were stored with it over the vorns by the Allspark's creation when we didn't have enough shells to house them all."
"One problem," Bumblebee pointed out. "No bot knows where Vector Sigma is."
"Don't have to," the inventor's bars flashed blue green. "The Science division spare vault housed nearly two dozen uncored ones as a backup. We don't need fully functional mech adults, just sparks. Find the vault and we have our answer."
"Might work. I know these twin femmes back home," Jazz smirked. "Helped Prowl and I a few times. They are record archivists turned bomb tactical scouts. Cross their path and its game over. If anybot would know how to find what we need, they would."
"You would help us? Why?"
"My tribunal vote was undecided. Needed more information like any good Special Operations Officer. Sparks fit that definition nicely."
To be continued…
Author's Notes: The Dinobots help save Cybertron when Unicron attacks. If they didn't stay functioning they could not have accompanied Prime when Megatron attacked Autobot City in the future. The Dinobots would not have left Autobot city with Kup and Hot Rod on the shuttle. The Dinobots with Wheelie helped find and save them from the Sharkticons on the Quintesson judgement world. They and Hot Rod left on a ship Wheelie knew about. They all went to fight Unicron, allowing Hot Rod to retrieve the Matrix and become Rodimus Prime and "light our darkest hour," to defeat Unicron and save Cybertron and the galaxy.