Smoke rose from the central sector of Iacon. In the perpetual twilight of the off-cycle, it colored the sky a dark, violent red.
A newborn silence occupied the streets. Decepticon soldiers had been called back from their looting and burning to positions defending their camp at the Academy, and Iacon Central's remaining civilians were hiding or waiting.
Then, exactly one joor before dawn, the bright hum and harsh light of groundbridges broke the crimson hush—thousands of pedes pounded the roads and walkways, exiting bridges and buildings, banding together. In breems, the empty streets surrounding the enforcement headquarters and the nearby Iacon Academy were filled.
Then groundbridges closed, and soldiers and civilians marched on the mech who had taken their home from them.
Orion slowed to a stop as the transport reached him. The mech's doors opened and soldiers poured out.
One approached him, saluting.
"Sir. We're here to escort you safely to base. Please enter the transport."
"Thank you," Orion said, and climbed in, careful of his injured shoulder. The inside reminded him of Landquake's interior, though it wasn't quite the same.
He sat down along the side, and a mech with a medic's badge under his Autobot insignia came to work on his injury.
All other mecha exited the transport, and then Orion felt the vehicle maneuvering to drive back toward the fighting.
He bore it patiently as the medic pried the knife from the back of his shoulder.
Then he listened as they drew nearer to the battle.
Mecha shouted, screamed… Orion wished he could help, but he needed to get to base. The transport slowed and Orion could hear plasma fire and crashing just outside. Something bumped into the vehicle, jostling Orion. The medic muttered a few curses and redoubled his efforts on repairing Orion's shoulder.
"Sorry," the ambient voice of the transport said.
"It's all right," Orion said. "What's happening?"
"We couldn't avoid a skirmish," the transport explained. "The Decepticons saw us leave, and were ready for us on the way back in. We'll break through in a few astroseconds, but we've lost about half of the escort."
Orion looked down. More mecha offlining for him…
A moment later, the transport accelerated again and the noise outside decreased.
"There," the medic said a breem later. "That's about all I can do now, but you should get to the medbay as soon as you can, sir."
"Thank you," Orion said.
"Atlas, can you drop me off in about ten blocks? They need more medics on the field."
"You got it," the transport said.
"Atlas…" Orion recognized the designation. "You're Landquake's sparkling."
"Yes, sir," the transport said. "I'm honored you remember me, sir."
Orion wanted to ask how Landquake was, but then remembered this was a trial.
It was easy to forget, even though forgetting didn't seem like part of the simulation. Orion remembered clearly the real danger his soldiers and his friends were in. He knew that he needed to complete the trial as soon as possible so he could decide what to do about Megatron's control of Iacon.
He knew none of the things he was doing now were real. And yet, there was something about the experience that felt real. Something in the optics and the voices of the mecha who he had encountered felt sincere. Some of the constructs in the trial were mecha he knew—others were mecha he'd never seen, but who seemed to know him. And since Primus himself had created the trial…
But Orion didn't want to believe that it contained the future.
Iacon was in ruins.
Ironhide had offlined.
He didn't want either of those things to happen.
Atlas stopped to let the medic off, and then shut his doors and sped forward again.
Hound crept cautiously toward the front doors, with Autoceptor close behind him. He was grateful to have the old enforcer with him, even if it made this feel too much like the Tarn evacuation.
He could still remember that—still remember what it was like to watch those other enforcers—Clampdown and Deep Cover—fight Megatron and die.
He'd never forget it.
He slipped carefully past the guards standing in front of the doors and modified his projection so that no one outside of it would see the doors open.
Then he reached out and pulled on the door handle. It was unlocked, thankfully. They'd tried all the other doors first, but none of them were open.
Going in through the front was riskier. If the guards were looking closely, they'd see a ripple in the atmosphere as he and Autoceptor went by—Hound's projections weren't perfect, and he hadn't had as much practice making things disappear. He had to copy the ground and other objects within the projection and display them on the outside with the correct proportions, and that was tricky, especially because he needed to move and modify it as he went.
He held the door for Autoceptor, flinching when the mech almost touched the projection. It was invisible on the inside, so he couldn't see it the way Hound could sense it.
And if he bumped into it, or if anything went through it, it would disappear and they'd be exposed until Hound put up another one.
Autoceptor stopped just inside the building, and Hound followed him and carefully closed the door behind himself, trying not to make any sound.
Inside the front doors there was a desk and a wide hallway perpendicular to the entrance. The double doors on the other side of the hallway were open. Off to the side, a group of Decepticon soldiers sat on the ground, playing some sort of dice game.
Autoceptor glanced at Hound, who nodded.
They walked silently through the double doors and stopped, looking out over the vast auditorium. Hound hadn't realized just how many mecha you could fit in this building.
Generating a hologram big enough to hide them all while they escaped wasn't going to be easy.
Autoceptor gestured for him to follow, and he walked after the mech, modifying the projection that hid them while they went. There was enough ambient noise from the Autobot soldiers that the guards weren't likely to hear their pedesteps.
There were several guards around the outside of the room, watching from each exit. The Autobots were crowded into the rows of seats—some standing, some sitting—and the aisles were clear.
It almost looked as if they were simply here for some sort of event.
Autoceptor led Hound past several guards, and then finally stopped a few paces from one who was guarding a small side-door.
He gestured to the mech, and Hound put up a larger projection that extended over the doorway and the guard. He also made a copy of the guard standing just outside the boundaries of the large projection.
The Decepticon was still staring in shock at his double when Autoceptor shot him with a stun blast. The smaller projection disappeared as soon as the shot crossed the barrier, but the larger one was still hiding them from the other guards. Autoceptor lunged forward and caught the unconscious guard before he could crash to the ground.
If any of the others had been watching closely, they would have seen this guard teleport a few paces to the left. Hound turned to look at the other guards while Autoceptor dragged the unconscious one out of the auditorium and used his frame to prop open the door. None of them seemed alarmed about anything, or even particularly alert.
Autoceptor came back in.
"All right," he said quietly. "You ready?"
"One moment," Hound took in a deep vent, braced himself, and put up an enormous projection around the entire auditorium, excluding only the guards at the sides of the room. He didn't want to risk putting projections around the guards in case they decided to move while he wasn't paying attention.
He joined the doorway projection with the larger one. Anyone outside the boundary would see an army of soldiers sitting in the chairs, occasionally shifting, or turning to talk to one another.
He also put up a projection along the ground—a thick red line just inside the large projection so they could see the border they weren't supposed to cross.
Once they'd gotten past the comm. block around Iacon, they'd sent instructions to the captive soldiers, so hopefully everyone would know what to do.
"We're good," Hound said quietly.
Autoceptor nodded and approached the other Autobots.
Some of them had seen him, and a hush traveled through the room.
Autoceptor shook his helm. "Keep making noise," he whispered to the nearest soldiers. "We don't want the guards getting suspicious."
He directed a few rows of Autobot soldiers to start heading out the doorway. A quiet murmur washed over the crowd, which was good because it would hide the sound of pedesteps.
Hound watched as mecha started filing past him. Some smiled tiredly at him, or mouthed silent thanks. He smiled back, feeling awkward.
The large projection was already taking its toll. Maybe he should have opted to make several small ones instead. It would be easier to make hundreds of simultaneous projections than to sustain one the size of the auditorium with the complexity of half an army.
He pressed a hand to his side, where the mod was, turned his vents as high as they would go, and tried to focus on something else.
Some of the mecha walking past him looked tired. Some were injured. Hound doubted they'd had an opportunity to refuel or recharge since Megatron had attacked Iacon.
But as soon as they reached the other Autobots, they'd be asked to join in the fighting.
It wasn't fair, but there was nothing Hound could do about it.
He might not be able to get them out in the first place. His mod could probably last another ten to twenty breems before shorting itself out, but that wouldn't be long enough.
And then the Decepticon guards would sound the alarm and Megatron would almost certainly order his army to kill the remaining prisoners.
Autoceptor came over a few breems later.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"Um… the projection's too big," Hound said. "Too complicated. I can't keep it up. I should have made smaller ones around each guard."
"Can you switch over?"
"Maybe," Hound said. "But I have to hold the current projection up until I can get all the others in place."
The old enforcer scowled. "I could go around and knock out all the guards, and then you could drop the projection altogether, or put up a simpler one."
"I'd have to drop it for you to leave it," Hound said. "I mean… I guess I could make that work…"
"How much time do we have?"
"I don't know." The mod was really starting to ache, and it was still threatening to overheat, even with his vents on high. "A few breems before things get risky."
Autoceptor crossed his arms. "Could you just make them all disappear? Would that be simpler? No reason for Megatron to attack here if he thinks the prisoners have already escaped."
"But… they'll still make sound."
"I'll tell Mainspring to send them new instructions that they're supposed to be as quiet as possible. There'll have to be a bit of noise from the ones who are walking, but hopefully the guards will be too panicked to notice. Answer the question, mechling, would it be easier to make them disappear?"
Much easier. Hound nodded.
"We'll do that then," Autoceptor said. "Hang in there a few more breems while I get the news to everyone."
"Okay."
Autoceptor wandered off.
It would still be somewhat difficult to make them disappear, but at least it would be a static image. He should probably make several smaller projections covering different sections and leave the aisles out, just in case the guards came to investigate.
After a few breems, the shuffling and muttering of the crowd died out some, and Autoceptor motioned for Hound to go ahead.
He put up new projections and dropped the enormous one simultaneously. Instant relief washed over him.
"What the…"
"Pit!"
"Are you… seeing this?"
"What happened?"
The guards conversed for a few moments and then someone suggested they go get the mecha from out in the hall.
Hound could only hope that they took a long time deciding what to do about the situation.
A sudden impact slammed Orion into the side of the transport, and then for a moment he felt the weightlessness of falling before Atlas hit the ground and rolled. Orion tumbled on the inside of the transport, flung back and forth.
Then everything fell still.
He could hear noises from outside—shouting—pedesteps coming nearer.
"Atlas?" he said, getting to his knees, gritting his denta against the pain of his injured shoulder. The inside of the transport had gone dark. "Atlas?"
By the light of his optics, Orion could see he was kneeling on a door, which meant Atlas was on his side.
He had to get out before—
The door above him screeched open, letting in the light.
"It's the Prime!" someone said. "Don't kill him—we'll be rewarded for bringing him to Megatron alive."
"Here, roll this thing so we can get him out!"
"Atlas…" Orion said again, as the transport shuddered, and then tipped once more.
Decepticons stood at the door, guns out.
Orion could feel himself trembling as he tried to get to his knees again.
Then the open door snapped shut, and the floor tilted and rose beneath him. The walls of the transport unfolded around him, and the open atmosphere helped him orient himself as he slid down to land on his pedes behind Atlas, who had transformed to root mode.
The Decepticons rushed the transport, and Atlas pulled a tall, heavy staff from subspace. Orion took half a step back, watching in awe as the enormous mech sent several Decepticons flying with a single swing.
But there were so many of them—and more coming…
"Prime, Sir, I can hold them off here until Prowl sends me reinforcements!" Atlas shouted. "Head to the base."
He could find the base from here. It was just a few blocks away.
But…
"Come with me!" Orion shouted. "I won't leave you here."
Orion expected Atlas to argue, but he didn't. "Yes, sir!" He said. "Can you drive? My tires are shot, but I can run behind you."
"Yes," Orion said.
Atlas swept once more with his staff, then turned his back to the Decepticons.
Orion transformed. His shoulder protested, but he ignored the pain and drove forward, listening for Atlas's heavy pedefalls behind him. The Decepticons chased them and Orion heard the sound of laser fire, but only a few stray shots hit him. He realized the larger mech was shielding him with his own frame.
Maybe it would have been better to let Atlas stay behind and fight.
They were met by a small group of Autobot soldiers just outside the back door to the base. Orion transformed and, feeling guilty, left his mecha to defend the door while he entered.
Ironhide charged forward as the Decepticon line buckled. Seekers rained down death from above, but Prowl had mecha in the nearby buildings returning fire.
As a ground commander, he had access to information about how the whole battle was going. So far, they were winning. The Decepticons were retreating farther and farther back toward the Iacon Academy, and the Autobots had thoroughly re-taken enforcement headquarters. That meant they had complete control over the groundbridge shield, so they could lower it if they needed to retreat.
Of course, it didn't look like that would be necessary.
"More seekers coming your way. Take cover along the building due north of your position."
Ironhide relayed the orders to his unit and led the way to the building Prowl had pointed out. He stood with his back to the wall and waited.
Sure enough, a large flight of seekers roared past above them, raining explosives from the sky. Ironhide fired up at them, knocking several down. Shrapnel from the seekers' bombs peppered his frame, but his armor deflected enough of it to keep him from being badly hurt.
"That gave the Decepticons time to regroup," Prowl said. "But you should be able to push them back another block, and then you'll need to hold that position because it'll open a clear path I can get the prisoners out through."
"How's that going?" Ironhide asked.
"Smoothly, so far," Prowl said.
That was good news.
"Hold your position. The Decepticons will come to you and you can ambush them from the side."
Ironhide relayed the orders to his mechs, and got ready, listening to the temporary lull in the battle as the large group of seekers moved on and the Autobots stopped, waiting for their enemies to come to them.
"We're making good progress," Ironhide remarked.
"Yes," Prowl said. "Especially considering this is my first attempt at a purely offensive campaign."
"Not that I doubt your skill," Ironhide said. "But does this seem too easy to you?"
"Definitely," Prowl replied. "Maybe he thinks he can fall back to the Academy and wait until his reinforcements from Tarn arrive, but there's no way he'll be able to hold us off that long, not at this rate, and he must know that…"
"Are we missing something?" Ironhide said.
"I hope not," Prowl said. "But we can't be sure."
A group of Decepticons came rushing past the building Ironhide and his mecha were waiting behind, and he had to cut his conversation short and focus on fighting.
"L-lord Megatron, S-sir?"
Megatron turned to regard the trembling soldier. "What?" he snapped.
The mech seemed to be gathering his thoughts or steeling himself for something. Around the room, which was normally used as a classroom, Megatron's commanders and strategists collaborated, gave orders, and directed his forces.
Megatron knew his army was losing, which was frustrating.
But he had to trust his plans.
The tables would turn, so long as this mech wasn't bringing unexpected bad news. "What is it?" he demanded again.
"Sir, the Autobot prisoners…"
"Are they trying to break loose again?"
"No, sir," the mech replied. "They're already gone."
Megatron glared at him. "What?" he demanded. "How?"
"We don't know, sir. We were watching them, we promise. One astrosecond they were there and the next, the whole place was empty. Honest, we—"
"Stop whining," Megatron said and the mech shut his lip plates, trembling.
Megatron had been planning to let the Autobot soldiers go and join their friends. It wouldn't matter in the end—they'd all offline anyway.
But this was an insult.
The fact that they would use that trick again—that they thought it would work on him a third time…
He turned to his strategists. "Call the seekers back to destroy that auditorium we're keeping the Autobot prisoners in."
"Lord Megatron, the Autobots will break through our defenses if the seekers aren't backing them up. We—"
"Follow my orders!" Megatron said. "Bomb out that building! I don't want anything left alive in it!"
"But sir, the prisoners are already—"
"No they're not!" Megatron rounded on the timid guard again. "Get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you live!"
The mech scurried away and Megatron turned his attention back to his strategists. "Well?"
"I'll call some of the seekers back and give them their new target," a mech said.
Megatron nodded, walking to his place at the front of the re-purposed classroom.
"I'll evacuate our soldiers from the building," another mech added.
Megatron wouldn't have bothered with that, but it was fine either way. He commed Soundwave, who answered promptly.
"I'm losing patience," Megatron said. "How much more time do you need?"
"Two breems," Soundwave said.
"Good." Megatron cut the comm. again.
Two breems to victory.
Prowl and Jazz stood in the hallway, waiting for him.
"Thank Primus, you made it," Prowl said. "Come, we need to talk."
Orion followed them to a nearby empty room with a small table surrounded by chairs. Prowl sat and Orion followed suit. Jazz climbed up and perched on the back of one of the chairs, looking thoughtful.
Orion couldn't help thinking about the real Jazz, who was probably still unconscious. He should have asked Ratchet how the mech was doing before leaving…
"Optimus," Prowl said. "As I mentioned before, we've received some new intelligence on the weapon Megatron professes to have."
Right. He had to focus on the trial. "What have we learned about it?"
"First off, it ain't a bluff," Jazz said. "We found it, and near as we can figure, it actually could blow up the entire planet."
Orion stared. Had he heard that correctly? "But why… why would Megatron want to do that?"
"The mech's cracked, Prime," Jazz said. "Figures if he can't rule the world, then he'll just make sure no one else can either. Even his own soldiers don't know and the ones who do can't do anything about it."
Orion nodded, though it was hard to believe Megatron would ever be so insane in real life. Then again… he had destroyed Vos. "If you found the weapon, that means we can destroy it, right?"
Prowl and Jazz glanced at each other.
"What?" Orion said.
"We can," Prowl told him. "But it will come at a price. If we destroy the weapon, it's rigged to detonate. If we're the ones who set it off, it won't be targeted properly to destroy all of Cybertron, but it will kill everyone in the nearby sectors, maybe even the whole city-state."
"Where is it?" Orion asked.
"It's in Perihex," Prowl said. "That's where all the refugees from the recent battlefields have been gathering."
"The last neutral state," Jazz continued. "And it's got about a tenth of Cybertron's current population in it. The weapon's under the central sector there."
Orion looked down. "We can't risk killing the refugees. Is there time to evacuate?"
"The moment we start doin' that, the 'Cons will know we found the weapon," Jazz said.
"It's clever," Prowl acknowledged. "He knows us too well. But Optimus…" the Praxian trailed off.
Jazz took over. "We gotta destroy that weapon," he said. "I know that ain't how we normally roll, but we're talkin' about the safety of the whole planet."
"We have two options," Prowl said. "We can either pull the trigger and kill ten percent of the Cybertronian population, or we can let Megatron pull the trigger and kill everyone."
"We don't know he's going to do that," Orion said.
"If he didn't plan ta use it, why would he need it ta actually function?" Jazz said. "Prime, I lost good mecha getting this intel. Let's not waste it."
"We can't target civilians."
"We're prepared to destroy the weapon," Prowl said. "I have some forces from Nova Cronum and Polyhex on the way. But I won't act without your permission."
Orion stared at him.
"Please, Optimus…"
"I won't sanction the killing of innocent civilians."
"This is a sacrifice we have to make," Prowl said.
"Megs is desperate," Jazz said. "This is his last-ditch attempt ta seize some sort of control. Almost all his forces are currently attacking Iacon. If he loses here, then he'll have nothing left but that weapon."
"Which means," Prowl said. "That if we destroy the weapon, we will win this war for good. This is our only chance—our last chance, Optimus. We can rebuild afterward."
Orion met his friend's gaze sorrowfully. "You can't rebuild mecha."
Prowl looked down.
"You would really give that order? You would really kill all those mecha?"
"Yes," Prowl said. "To save Cybertron, yes. You know I'd willingly sacrifice anything to that end. Please…"
Orion shook his helm. Even in a trial, even though those mecha weren't real, he couldn't make that kind of sacrifice. "That can't be our only option. We have to find another way to win the war. Imagine if you killed all the refugees in Perihex and then found out that Megatron was never planning to use his weapon."
"Come on!" Jazz said. "Imagine if we don't destroy that thing and then Megatron uses it. Is your peace of conscience really worth the lives of every mech, femme, and sparkling on this planet? Really, mech?"
"He's right," Prowl said.
"Thank you—"
"No, not you. Optimus is right. Maybe we can find another way—we should at least try..."
Jazz glared at him, then shook his helm. "You're gonna get us all offlined. We really ain't got time for this."
"It's easy when you're not the one pulling the trigger," Prowl snapped at him.
Jazz looked like he wanted to snap back, but then he deflated. "Fine," he said, and hopped off the chair he'd been sitting on. "I'll go back ta Perihex and see if I can figure a workaround ta the self-destruct problem. Try and stall long enough for me ta actually get there, okay?"
He left and shut the door behind himself.
Orion looked at Prowl. "Is there a way to stop the fighting?" he asked.
"Megatron's attacking us," Prowl said. "He can retreat whenever he wants to—we're not in his way."
"Could we retreat?"
"Yes, but chances are the Decepticons will follow us, and we'll risk losing the battle."
"What will happen if we surrender?"
"Megatron will take over the world," Prowl said. "Everyone who's willing to fight him is already fighting him. If we surrender… we hand Cybertron over to him. Admittedly, that's an alternative way to save the world that doesn't involve killing civilians, but in the long run..." Prowl trailed off.
Orion crossed his arms, thinking. This choice must be the object of the trial. He could keep fighting and potentially push Megatron to the point of using his weapon to destroy Cybertron, he could kill a tenth of Cybertron's population in exchange for victory, or he could surrender and hand the planet over to the tyrant warlord.
He didn't know what to do. Primus had told him not to let Megatron win, so surrender was obviously the wrong choice.
But pushing Megatron to destroy the entire planet couldn't be right either.
That left killing the refugees in Perihex.
It was wrong—so wrong.
And the worst part was that he'd met with choices like this in the real world too.
All the times Prowl had urged him to attack Megatron first, to take prisoners after winning battles…
This was what was expected of him.
This was what a good general would do—weigh the outcomes and choose the option that would save the most lives while also winning the fight.
But it was still the wrong thing to do.
Elita stood between Chromia and Moonracer in front of the Iacon Enforcement Headquarters. The seekers had inexplicably disappeared from the sky, and the fighting—at least in this neighborhood—had stopped.
It seemed, from the reports Prowl sent her every few breems, that they were still battling the Decepticons at the Academy. However, they had Megatron surrounded and pinned down.
She hadn't done much fighting. The unit she and her sisters had been placed in had come in behind the main group Prowl had sent to recapture the Enforcement Headquarters. She was certain Prowl had planned it that way, which was both relieving and infuriating. She didn't want to offline, but the idea that she'd been held back for her own safety made her energon boil.
"The Decepticon seekers are attacking the building where they're keeping our soldiers," Prowl announced over the group comm. with all the commanders.
Elita looked up, spark sinking.
"Didn't we rescue them?" Ironhide growled.
"Not all of them yet," Prowl said. "There are quite a few still there."
"Can we help them?" Elita asked. "Can we get to them?"
"We can try," Prowl said. "But we're going to need to move some of our forces from your position to the Academy to support our soldiers there."
"I will—" Ultra Magnus said.
"No, I'll go," Elita cut him off. "Send my unit and as many others as you need. We're not doing much here."
"Very well," Prowl said, and sent her instructions. Elita passed them on to the soldiers with her and they transformed and started down the street.
"How many of our soldiers have made it to safety?" Ultra Magnus asked over the comm.
"Maybe a fourth of them," Prowl said. "I don't know if we'll be able to save many more. Megatron has a large percentage of his seekers concentrated on bombing the building."
"Could we use that to our advantage?" Ultra Magnus asked.
"Yes," Prowl said. "If we focus on defeating the Decepticons while the seekers are distracted."
"It's more important to rescue our soldiers if we can," Elita said.
"Agreed," Ultra Magnus said.
"Megatron's probably counting on us feeling that way," Prowl said. "But… at this point, we'll win either—"
The comm. died.
Elita kept driving, waiting anxiously for Prowl to re-establish communications.
But he didn't. She tried comming him and when that didn't work, she opened a group comm. with Ultra Magnus and Ironhide.
"Commander Elita One," Ultra Magnus said. "I have lost all communication with Nova Cronum."
"Same," Elita said.
"Hey, Ellie," Chromia said from beside her. "Is Prowl still talking to you?'
"No, I can't comm. him," Elita replied then spoke over the comm. to Ultra Magnus. "What should we do?"
"His last instructions to me were to continue to guard the Enforcement Headquarters."
"I was told to join Ironhide's forces at the Academy."
Where was Ironhide? He hadn't accepted the comm. invitation yet…
"Our best course of action is to follow our instructions and hope that Prowl can re-establish communication in time to direct us further."
"What do you think could have happened?" Elita said.
"I do not know," Ultra Magnus said stiffly. "My hope is that the communications failure was due to a technical problem."
The other possibility was that their mecha in Nova Cronum were under attack.
They hadn't left many behind. They had moved to the groundbridge station, so theoretically the Decepticons wouldn't know where to find them…
It had to be some sort of technical problem.
Because if Prowl was under attack—if he didn't re-establish communications—if he was hurt or offlined—they'd never win another battle.
Ironhide finally joined the comm. "What's going on? What happened to Prowl?"
"We don't know," Elita said. "We're hoping it's just some sort of mistake or communication glitch."
"Well, as soon as the comm. went down, the Decepticons redoubled their attack here," Ironhide said grimly. "So I'm pretty sure Megatron knows we lost comms with Nova Cronum."
"In that case, we must act even more quickly to win the battle," Ultra Magnus said.
"What?" Ironhide said.
"If the Decepticons are planning to capture or kill Prowl, we must capture Megatron first and offer to make a deal with them."
"Right," Ironhide said. "That could work. I'm closest, and I'm pretty sure I know what building he's operating out of. But our attack is falling apart now that Prowl's gone."
"If you can capture Megatron, the battle will end," Ultra Magnus said. "There is still no fighting here, so I will join you with reinforcements. Commander Elita One, it would be prudent for you to return to your previous position."
"Where it's safe?" Elita snapped. "I'm part of this battle. I'm going to join the fighting."
"I understand," Ultra Magnus said. "And I acknowledge your authority in this situation, but my advice is for you to return here to guard the Enforcement Headquarters."
"Noted," Elita said. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm going to help Ironhide."
"Very well."
They were driving through a familiar neighborhood now. Their route would take them right past the apartment building she and her sisters had lived in for vorns.
That seemed like such a long time ago now.
She led her mecha around a sharp corner…
And into a storm of blaster fire from the Decepticons who had been waiting for them.
Elita panicked and spun to the side, almost crashing into one of her soldiers. She transformed and ran toward a nearby light pole. Once there, she crouched in the meager cover it provided and started returning fire on the Decepticons, looking for her sisters among the chaos of mecha transforming and trying to pull out their weapons.
They were being slaughtered….
There. Chromia was supporting a heavily-limping Moonracer, approaching Elita's position.
"Fall back!" Elita ordered. "Get back around the corner for cover!"
Of course, she was on the opposite side of the road, and there was no way she could cross it without getting picked off.
Her sisters reached her.
"Come on!" Chromia said.
Elita ducked under Moonracer's other shoulder and helped her limp to a more sheltered place alongside a building. About a third of her forces joined her, while the rest retreated the way they had come, leaving dozens of lifeless frames in the intersection.
The Decepticons stopped firing and backed off, leaving six mechs out in the open.
"Pit," Chromia muttered. "Fragging pit…"
"Moonracer, are you…"
"Fine," Moonracer brushed Elita off. "Just my leg."
Elita looked down at her sister's injured limb, but before she could really assess the damage, her attention was drawn back to the Decepticons, who had started cheering wildly.
And she watched as the six mechs in the front transformed into each other. It was horrifying and fascinating all at once. They rose together, forming into one colossus with mad red optics, larger and stronger than the sum of its parts.
"Primus beneath…" Moonracer whispered.
The thing roared. "Devastator!"
The surrounding Decepticons repeated the word, chanting as the giant turned to look at Elita and her soldiers.
"Retreat!" she ordered over the comm, then turned to run with her sisters down the road.
Her soldiers stayed with her in root mode. They could easily outpace the combiner if they drove, but they were loyal enough not to leave her, and she wasn't going to abandon Moonracer.
"You should go!" Chromia said. "We'll find somewhere to hide. That thing can't get through doorways, and it's probably after you anyway."
"Are you sure?"
The running giant's pedes shook the ground.
"Yes!" Chromia said. "Don't worry about us. You can't die or it's all over."
"All right," Elita said, then ducked out from under Moonracer's shoulder and gave the order to transform and drive with her.
Not an astrosecond too soon.
The giant caught up and threw itself at the stragglers in the group, swinging its enormous arms. But it missed as the Autobots transformed and dodged nimbly around its flailing fists.
It was clumsy—probably not used to its own size and strength. Elita and her soldiers quickly pulled ahead of it.
But then she realized something.
She knew this road.
It was a dead end.
Orion needed more time. He needed the fighting to stop so he could think about this decision. Furthermore, he could feel through the bond that Elita was in trouble. She was desperate, frightened, losing. He could barely focus, barely think…
"Prowl?"
"Yes?"
"Can we talk to Megatron? Is there a way to contact him?"
"We can try," Prowl said.
"Tell him that if he calls a cease-fire, I'll meet with him in person—and that I'll come alone."
"Optimus, that's suicide," Prowl said.
"Any decision at this point would amount to as much," Orion said. "Perhaps I can reason with him. That may be our only hope."
"There's no reasoning with him," Prowl said. "Handing you over to him would be the same thing as surrendering."
"No," Orion said. "It would be the same thing as putting you in charge."
Prowl's optics widened. "But I…"
"If it buys us time to find an alternate means of destroying the weapon, it will be worth it," Orion said. "Contact Megatron."
Prowl nodded.
Orion shuttered his optics. He wanted to comm. Elita and talk to her, but he didn't want to distract her. She was injured now—he hadn't felt that through the bond before, but the pain was unmistakable.
He had to remind himself that it was just a trial—that the real Elita was fine.
But he realized he didn't know that for sure, because he could only feel the fake one in the trial.
"He's not answering," Prowl said. "I don't think he's willing to talk."
"Very well," Orion replied. "I'll go get his attention. You can return to the command center and direct the battle."
"Yes, sir," Prowl said. "Orion?"
Orion looked at him, surprised. This was the first time in the trial that Prowl had called him that.
"Good luck," the Praxian said quietly.
"You too." Orion stepped out of the room and hurried down the hallway to the door he'd come in. It opened for him and he charged out to join Atlas and the others. The transport was badly injured and leaking from numerous wounds, but still fighting, along with a handful of other soldiers.
Orion stepped past them. "Stop!"
All fell still. Even Orion was surprised at the power of his voice.
"Take me to Megatron," he said. "If you leave these mecha alone, I'll come quietly."
"No!" Atlas stumbled forward, but fell to his knees with a groan.
"Deal," one of the Decepticon soldiers said, training his gun on Orion. "Come on, then."
Orion stepped forward.
Over the bond, he felt Elita send him a desperate apology.
And then suddenly she was gone.
Fiery agony washed over his spark, twisting, crushing, shattering pain…
Blackness closed in and he was unconscious before he even started falling.
Prowl was having hundreds of conversations at once—with the captains of each unit, with the commanders, with the mecha in his department, with mecha around Iacon who were headed toward the fighting, willing to join in and banish the Decepticons from their city.
The battle was going well.
The seekers were falling back… strange…
"Soundwave!"
Prowl jumped as Red Alert's piercing voice cut through the cacophony in his processor. "Red Alert! What…"
"Soundwave's here! He's on base. He's headed straight for you!"
Fantastic. "Is he alone?"
The Decepticon seekers in Iacon were all converging over the Academy. That didn't make sense. What were they doing there…?
"Does it matter? It's Soundwave!"
"Yes, it matters," Prowl snapped. "Is he alone?"
"Yes!"
Good. Prowl had thought about this possible scenario, and had prepared for it. "Flame, lock the door."
"What?" the tactician said, looking up from his computer console.
"I said go lock the door to this room," Prowl glared at him then spoke to Red Alert over the comm. "You have access to all the security in the building. Lock your door and change the passcode to a sequence of random numbers generated by your computer. Change the code on my door too. Don't look at the new passcodes. If you don't know them, Soundwave won't either, and he won't be able to get to us."
"Oh…" Red Alert said.
Prowl turned the rest of his attention back to the battle.
Oh…
The Decepticon seekers were bombing the building where they were keeping the Autobot prisoners.
Frag it.
Prowl ran some initial calculations and scenarios, trying to figure out a way to save them. He spoke to the commanders over the comm. and notified them about the prisoners.
He probably ought to tell them about Soundwave too, but he had too many other things to worry about first, and he had to keep up with the battle.
He smirked when he heard the door shut behind him. Figure that one out, telepath.
"He's stopped!" Red Alert said. "He's stopped and he's going toward a groundbridge… no, a help desk!"
"Would you please stop yelling at me?" Prowl said. "I'm trying to concentrate."
"Primus, he's in this building! He can forward all of our plans to Megatron!"
"It doesn't matter," Prowl snapped. "He still can't beat me. And the doors here are sturdy enough he won't be able to force his way past them to attack us. We're perfectly safe, and we're still going to win. Please calm down."
"But he's doing something! He's got a datapad plugged into one of the help desks. What if he's hacking the codes for the doors? What if—"
All of Prowl's comms went dead, and the sudden silence was deafening. Prowl looked up sharply to see the rest of his team also looking around, confused.
"What happened?" one of them asked.
"Comm. block," Prowl said, spark sinking. "On our end. The intruder put one up somehow."
"What?" Hurricane, Prowl's second in command, asked. "How…"
"It's Soundwave, I don't know how he did it." Prowl shuttered his optics, thinking. Losing communications didn't necessarily mean they would lose, but if Megatron had been planning for this—if he had some sort of trap to spring… They had to do something. Now that he couldn't talk to Red Alert… "Can we access the security cameras from here?"
"I… think so," Flame said. "Give me an astrosecond…"
Prowl waited, trying not to let anxiety about the battle overwhelm him. He needed to get the comms back up, but he didn't even know how to start. He hadn't realized you could just plug into a help desk in a groundbridge station and put up a comm. block. It wasn't even asking for a password, it was just blocking everything.
"Uh…" Flame said. "Actually, I can't get the feeds up. I don't know what's wrong. Maybe Red Alert locked something down."
So they had no way of knowing where Soundwave was.
They could sit here and wait for help.
But at the same time, they couldn't.
Someone needed to run the battle, so they couldn't stay here. If they left the building, they could re-establish communication with Iacon.
This was a ploy to draw Prowl out so Soundwave could capture or kill him.
If Prowl went out to face the telepath, he'd probably lose.
But his mecha could leave the building and finish directing the battle.
"What are we going to do?" Hurricane asked.
Prowl got up from his station and walked to the door. If Soundwave killed him, the balance of power would tip in favor of the Decepticons, and the Autobots wouldn't have a chance to win. However, Soundwave was an even more powerful advantage than Prowl. If Prowl killed Soundwave, even at the expense of his own life, it would tip the scales towards the Autobots.
"Here's what we'll do," he said. "You'll all leave the building and re-establish communication with the field commanders. And I'll deal with Soundwave."
Some of them looked distinctly uncomfortable about that.
"Don't worry," he said. "The majority of the outcomes will benefit the Autobot cause."
"Unless he kills you," Hurricane said.
Prowl didn't feel like explaining—he didn't want to give anyone an opportunity to talk him out of this, because it was insane, and, well... he didn't actually want to die. He beckoned for the other tacticians to get up from their computers. "Red Alert," he said. "If you can still see and hear me through the security system, please unlock this door."
Nothing.
"I promise I have a plan," Prowl said. "Just let me out of this room."
There was another moment of hesitation, and then Prowl heard the distinct whirr-click of the door unlocking.
"Stand back," he said to his mecha. Soundwave could be right outside for all he knew. Prowl unsubspaced a gun and hit the button to open the door. Everyone waited in tense silence as it slid open, but there was nothing out in the hall.
"All right," Prowl said, trying not to sound as terrified as he felt. "Stick together, and get out of the station so you can contact the commanders. You might also want to send for some help—I'll probably need it."
Some still seemed hesitant, especially Hurricane. Prowl wasn't sure if his second in command was genuinely concerned for his safety, or just worried that if Prowl died, he'd have to lead the department.
Probably the latter.
But no one argued. The majority of the tactical division went down the hall in one direction, while Prowl went the other. He didn't know the building very well, but he didn't think anyone here did, except for Red Alert—and Soundwave by extension.
He was at a disadvantage, but if he found a defensible position, it would even the odds.
Besides, he didn't have to win, just take the telepath with him.
Ironhide fought his way toward the door. Prowl still hadn't come back on the comm. which was bad news. Their only hope at this point was to capture Megatron and try to end the fighting. If Prowl was still online, they could exchange the warlord for him.
But first they had to get to the mech. Ironhide was almost certain Megatron was in the building his soldiers were fighting outside of, but there was a whole crowd of Decepticons in the way.
He didn't know how the battle was going elsewhere. Elita had said something about a combiner, but if her unit was fighting one, Ironhide couldn't do anything to help.
Chromia was still online and unhurt, so he assumed her sisters were all right as well, but he didn't know for certain. He didn't have time to touch bases with everyone, and he couldn't afford to get distracted, not while he was fighting.
He just had to get through that door with enough mecha to capture Megatron.
That was the best way to pull off a win.
But the Decepticons were pushing his mecha back.
They were dying.
Frag it, they couldn't do this without Prowl.
He could feel Chromia's fierce focus through the bond. She was in danger, but still fighting, still determined to win.
If they lost this battle, she could die too.
He focused on her—her spark pulsing in rhythm with his. He thought about her bright, piercing optics, her fiery temper, her radiant smile…
He'd lose her if he didn't win this battle.
He couldn't afford to lose.
He roared and pushed forward harder, charging into the fray with renewed energy. Soon, he was in the front of the formation, cutting through the ranks of Decepticons. The doors were getting closer…
Suddenly, the Decepticons parted, backing away, letting him pass.
"Commander!" his third in command said. "Wait! They're cutting you off!"
Ironhide barreled forward, blinded by his purpose.
The doors opened as he reached them, and he didn't question it until they slammed shut behind him and he was alone.
He looked around the empty entry-room. This was one of the Academy's lecture hall buildings. The wide entry way branched off into several hallways lined with classrooms and small auditoriums.
Ironhide turned back to the closed doors. He couldn't abandon the soldiers out there, and he couldn't capture Megatron on his own.
But, unsurprisingly, the doors had locked behind him.
Peripheral motion caught his optic and he turned to see a mech step out of the nearest hallway.
"Commander Ironhide," Megatron said. "It's been a while."
Ironhide powered up his arm cannon, glaring at the warlord.
"I believe the last time we met, you shot me from behind," Megatron said, and a double-edged blade slid out from his arm.
Frag. Ironhide had run right into this, hadn't he?
"I've been hoping for a rematch since. I'm curious to see if you can hold your own when you don't get to sneak up on your opponent."
There was nothing to do. His mecha weren't going to fight their way to the doors in time to help him.
He reached out to his sparkmate, and Chromia reached back with determination.
She hadn't given up, and neither would he.
He rushed at the warlord, firing his cannon.
Megatron dodged, then charged forward as well, with a gleeful light burning in his red optics.
Orion's spark ached, even before he came fully online. He moaned, fighting the reality of consciousness. He didn't want to be awake. It hurt…
Elita.
She was gone.
No…
He couldn't feel her at all. But… this was just a trial, wasn't it? He should still be able to feel her, especially if the trial Elita had...
Offlined...
He un-shuttered his optics and looked up at the dark ceiling above him.
Where was he?
"I see you've finally returned to consciousness."
Orion froze.
Megatron.
He turned toward the voice and saw his former friend standing over him.
"Get him up," Megatron said.
Orion was dragged roughly to his pedes. He felt dizzy and weak, and every sparkbeat was agony.
The real Elita couldn't be dead. If she was dead, Orion would be dead too. The trial must be blocking the bond.
That didn't help the pain, though. The faint hope didn't cancel out the moment she'd disappeared, taking part of his spark with her.
"Come now, Prime, you're not hurt that badly," Megatron said. "Bring him."
He couldn't walk. He wasn't sure if that was because of Elita's death, or because of the high-power stasis cuffs on his wrists. Either way, the mecha holding him up had to drag him over to a large window.
Outside, he could see stars, the moons, and…
Cyberton, filling the sky below, lit from behind by the sun.
They were in space.
"Tragic, isn't it?" Megatron asked.
"What…" Orion said. "What are you…"
"I'm so sick of this war," Megatron said. "Aren't you tired of it, Orion? Just look at what we've done."
He saw it.
His beautiful planet was in smoking ruins. City-states that had once been brilliantly illuminated were dark. Some patches on the planet's surface glowed red, others were obscured by heavy smoke.
His world was broken.
"All these vorns, fighting our petty squabbles."
Orion leaned his helm against the window, wishing he could still feel Elita.
"Don't you want it to end?"
He wished it would. He didn't want it to come to this. He didn't want to keep fighting until it was too late. He wanted the war to stop now, in the real world, outside the trial. "Yes."
"You can make it happen," Megatron said. "Your pitiful forces are still resisting me in Iacon, but they'll stand down if you give the order."
Orion shook his helm.
"Surrender, and I'll call off my soldiers too. Tell your mecha to lay their weapons down, and the killing will end. They don't need to die, Optimus."
"Really?" Orion asked. "Are you telling the truth? Will you really spare their lives?"
"It's no use ruling the world if everyone's offline," Megatron said. "I'll need unconditional surrender, of course. And all of your commanding officers will need to turn themselves in. After all, those responsible will need to pay for every victory they've stolen from me."
Orion dragged his gaze away from his broken planet to look at his one-time friend.
Megatron stared coldly out the window with a bitter expression on his faceplate.
"I might not kill you all, though," he said. "In fact, it's going to take quite a lot of effort to rebuild, and I'll need experienced leaders to help me retain control. You could join me. I'll put you in charge of your own city-state, and you'll be able to rule however you wish, so long as you keep up with taxes of course."
Orion stared at him.
Megatron turned to meet his gaze, a cruel smile tugging the corners of his scarred lip plates. "Come now, you realize how generous that offer is? All of this is your fault, after all."
"My fault?"
"If you'd surrendered in the beginning, all of the mecha who've died in this war would still be alive. I would have killed the Councils and put something better in their place. You got in my way and made a mess of it all. You ought to be on trial for your war crimes. Instead, I'm offering to make peace. I'm offering you a position of power. I know you want this war to end, Optimus. Just surrender, before it's too late."
Orion turned away again, with a sigh.
He wanted to surrender.
He wasn't sure if he could trust Megatron's promises, but maybe if he surrendered, Megatron would stop killing mecha, and the trial would end, and he'd be able to feel Elita over the bond again. He didn't know how much longer he could stand the emptiness in his spark.
He wanted to surrender.
But he couldn't.
"No," he said. "I'm sorry, Megatron. I can't let you win."
Megatron growled like a feral symbiot, and Orion looked over to see the warlord bearing down on him. The mecha holding him let go and Megatron grabbed him from behind and slammed him into the window glass.
Orion shuttered his optics, gritting his denta against the pain.
"You will surrender," Megatron said quietly, in his audio. "I can't let you win either. So if you refuse my offer one more time, I'll make you watch as I destroy everything you love."
"You can't—"
"I can," Megatron said. "So you'd better think carefully before you speak again."
He shoved Orion harder into the window, and Orion gasped. "Stop!"
"Surrender," Megatron said. "Or Cybertron will be destroyed."
Orion looked down at his beautiful, broken home.
He could save it if he surrendered.
He could save it if he slaughtered the refugees in Perihex.
Wasn't saving Cybertron worth any price?
Wasn't it worth asking his mecha to stand down?
Jazz's words rang in his audios. Is your peace of conscience really worth the lives of every mech, femme, and sparkling on this planet?
This was a sacrifice Orion ought to be willing to make. He should be willing to hand his remaining friends over to Megatron, so Megatron could torture them to death. He should be willing to stop the fighting by allowing the tyrant to take over the world.
But he couldn't surrender.
"Your… actions…"
"What?" Megatron said.
"Your actions are your own," Orion said, vision blurring. "I can't stop you from destroying Cybertron. That's your choice… But if you do it, you will lose just as much as I will. Do you really want this war to end in a stalemate? Are you really so afraid to fight that you'll give up like this?"
Megatron was silent for a moment, and Orion vented a sigh of relief.
But then the warlord spoke. "I'm already losing. Otherwise I wouldn't have wasted my time talking to you. This is your last chance, Prime. You have three astroseconds to surrender."
"Please," Orion said. "Don't kill them all. You said there's no point in ruling if you have no one to rule. There are so many innocent mecha… and your soldiers are still fighting in Iacon, aren't they? Will you kill them too?"
"Activate the weapon," Megatron growled.
"No!" Orion begged. "Please, Megatron. Don't do this. Don't—"
"Shut up!" Megatron pulled him back and slammed him into the window again.
The pain was almost too much. Orion shut his lip plates and stared down at the surface of the planet below.
"Now, watch," Megatron commanded.
Orion couldn't look away.
They waited, staring down at their world together.
A fountain of violet light rose from one of the city-states halfway between the equator and the north pole. It came shooting up toward them, and then spread out and rained back down on the surface of the planet.
Everywhere it touched burned. Explosions the size of city-states peppered the face of Cybertron. Lights flashed amidst black clouds—violet and sickly green and deep orange. The fire spread, rising from beneath; raining from above.
Orion watched, trembling, as the destruction covered the whole globe.
And he watched the fires dwindle and die out.
Until Cybertron was a cold, dark husk.
Then everything faded to gray.
The pain was gone, but Orion was alone. All around him was bleak nothingness. He could feel his pedes on the ground, but he couldn't see anything in the fog.
This must be the end of the trial.
"I'm sorry," he said to the mist. "I failed, didn't I?"
"Cybertron was destroyed," Primus's voice replied.
Orion put his faceplate in his hands. "Does this mean I won't receive the Matrix? Is there anything I can do now?"
"Answer this," Primus said softly. "If you were to repeat the trial, would you choose differently?"
Orion took in a deep, calming vent, thinking.
"Would you leave the sparklings and the Decepticon seeker to their fate? Would you attack the innocents in Perihex?"
"No," Orion said. "Even knowing that it was a trial, I couldn't… I would fail again if I tried again. I would fail every time."
"You would not fail," Primus replied. "Because you did not fail."
Orion looked up, searching the nothingness. "What do you mean?"
"You showed unwavering honor, kindness and selflessness."
But…
"You showed mercy, even to those who were your enemies. You did what was right at the expense of the greater good."
"But Megatron won…"
"He did not. He lost everything, just as you did."
Orion looked down at his hands.
The Covenant of Primus suggested that Cybertron would be destroyed. But that hadn't been real to him until now.
Did this mean that he would take part in causing that destruction—that his actions would lead to the annihilation of his home? Did this mean he was going to get Ironhide and Chromia and Elita and countless others offlined?
"Have you made your decision?"
He had to ask. "Will… things happen as they did in the trial? Is that how this war will end?"
"No," Primus said. "Though many things from the future were encoded within the trial."
"Will Ironhide and Chromia… and Elita…"
"I cannot tell you without altering the course I have set for you. Know only that you must be prepared in the case that your friends cannot be with you to the end of your journey."
Orion shuttered his optics.
"They fight now to reclaim Iacon. You must choose quickly."
Images flashed in his mind. Elita and Chromia facing down a giant—Soundwave standing over Prowl with a gun to his helm—Ironhide battling Megatron one-on-one.
Orion looked up again. "They're in danger?"
"Once you have made your decision, I will send you where you are most needed. The Autobots will not be defeated this orn."
Orion took in a deep vent. He didn't have time to waste. "I'm ready."
The world faded in and the colorless surface of the ground was replaced by the walkway. The light from the Core was almost blinding now.
"Rise, Orion Pax." Primus's voice was like a physical force now, powerful and sorrowful.
Orion stood, staring into the brilliant light, unable to look away.
"You have come before me, and I find you worthy of your station. Will you now accept the responsibilities of your calling and receive the Matrix of Leadership?"
"I will," Orion said.
He gasped as a beam of something that felt too solid to be light hit him, and he felt his chest plates open to reveal his spark chamber. His first instinct was to fight this, but he shuttered his optics and gave in to the light instead as it raised him from the walkway he had been standing on. The light burned through him, imprinting onto his processor, his core, and his spark, overwriting what was there with knowledge and energy and power.