The Honor in Duty
Chapter 9
Brotherhood
Hello my lovely readers! Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed! I've got quite a few really feelsy insights this chapter, so please do give me heaps of feedback, I would love to hear you guys' thoughts, ideas, reactions, speculations, and insights.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, or the TV series Transformers: Prime. Nor do I own my amazing sister/beta enmused: or maybe I do *evil laugh* Seriously though, check out her work too, it's awesome! Also, I feel really bad that it's taken me so very long to get it put up on my profile, but she's drawn me fan-art! *squealing* best big sis ever, so check out the links on my profile, or go directly to the-enmused on DeviantArt!
Review Responses: To Cashagon: I'm not at all ashamed to admit that my return to this story (and semi-monthly/bimonthly-ish updates from now on hopefully) are almost entirely thanks to your love of my story re-inspiring me. Thank you so very much! And boy, oh boy have I got a lot in mind for our dearest TeraQuake, this road of angsty feels is just beginning, hang on tight!
To AllSparkPrincess: Aaaand ready or not, Team Prime, here they come! And a whole lot of feels coming with them too. (And look, look! ASAP came a lot sooner this time, yay!)
The stars above twinkled gently in the bright night sky, the three moons close together, mere groons from eclipsing. She grinned up at her sire and bounced up and down on her chubby silver pedes, pointing up at the sky excitedly.
A dingbat flew by clumsily, dipping at the last minute and clipping its dented wing on her helm, making the youngling duck and squeal. Her yellow optics were wide as she stared after the dingbat, expecting it to swoop back and attack her again.
Bullwing chuckled at his little creation, swooping in and tossing her up into the air to draw a shriek from her. When he caught her, he cradled her in his massive arms and tickled the sensitive plating of her sides. The youngling giggled, curling in on herself squealing for him to stop.
She giggled at her sire's face, squinching her own faceplates tight and brushing his nose with hers. "Silly Creator."
The huge jet tickled her some more with his deep rolling laugh, "Silly Creation."
The youngling shrieked a little too loudly and Tetrastar chuckled, "Hush child, you'll wake the neighbors."
"Ah, let her be, Tet', she's only a little thing." Bullwing huffed, smiling fondly at their giggling youngling as she now sat cross-peded on the rooftop, gazing up at the moons stars and laughing to herself from time to time.
"Carrier, sire, if you two don' hushy we'll miss the 'clipses!" She called cheerily, chuckling some more at her creators. Her sire roared with laughter at that little cry, pulling Tetrastar into his side and settling down behind the little femmeling, scooping her into his lap as he did so.
The youngling leaned into her sire's warm chest-plates, snuggling into him with an excited giggle as she watched the moons eclipse, turning the sky a brilliant red for a breem before settling into one ruby red orb in the sky.
She was running, limping and crying, coolant streaming down her chubby silver faceplates. Her leg hurt so bad, maybe she'd broken it! That would be really bad, but Smokey'd be impressed. The femmeling sniffled and scrubbed at her optics with the back of her hand. Her hands hurt too and the armor was all scratched.
Her carrier was gonna kill her. She'd just gotten this set of armor an orn ago.
More tears wet her face and she let out a choked little sob. Tetrastar had told her not to swing on that old chain swing she found in the obsidian glade. Why didn't she ever listen to her carrier? Her carrier knew everything. Except how to fix Energon, the little one reminded herself, Bullwing did that much better.
Maybe when she got older, she'd know everything too. Like her carrier. Maybe Tetrastar would teach her how to know everything.
She scowled for a moment, then sniffled again. Her leg still really hurt. Where was her carrier? She called ages and ages ago, felt like. This was where her carrier was supposed to meet her.
Someone came up behind her, pedefalls crunching loud and sudden in the still evening, startling a scream from the youngling. Warm arms wrapped around her and snuggled her, a soft, familiar laugh coming from above her.
"Hush, sweetspark, it's only me." Tetrastar's gently lilted accent seemed to soothe her hurt with every word, "I didn't mean to startle you, my little one."
The silver youngling leaned back in her carrier's embrace, rubbing her helm against her chassis like the photovoltaic kittens did.
"Terabyte, what happened?"
Her carrier's voice said she already knew exactly what had happened. Tetrastar was good at that. She had magic carrier knowledge that made her know every time her sparkling did something bad. That was the only explanation.
The little one sniffled again, "I-I was playing in the glade a-and I was b-bored cause Smokey didn't co-come today a-a-and I-" She stifled a sob, trying to keep her voice steady as her vents started heaving. Hiccoughing a bit, she finished, "I-I went on the chain and it broke and I fell and carrier, i-i-it hurts!
Tetrastar hushed her gently, her engine crooning at her sparkchild's pain. The jet femme examined her aching pede with a little frown, "You've only sprained it, not broken it. It will hurt for awhile, but it will heal on its own."
She whimpered. Not broken, or easy to fix. She hated waiting.
Seeming to read her mind, her carrier smiled reprovingly at her, "Perhaps this will serve as a lesson to you in the future, young one."
She hugged her carrier tightly, pressing her little audials against her carrier's spark, feeling its warmth and strong but gentle pulse.
"Now let's go home and get you cleaned up, shall we?"
Previously on the Honor in Duty…
"So he made you one of them, huh?" … "I've had enough of your games, flipping factions and fooling both sides like the traitor you are. You're not a redeemed 'Con and you never will be cause there's no such thing. A 'Con is a 'Con is a slagging 'Con and you'd do good to remember that, femme."
Images and memories flooded through his mind and spark, none of them his own. Fears, honor, loneliness, distaste, an intense longing, and pain. So much pain, every day, every memory was filled with that same burning spark pain.
"Brother?"
The cliff face loomed toward her, growing nearer and nearer until it seemed as though she was sure to crash, but the two motorcyclists didn't slow their pace. Moments before impact the stone split open to reveal a short tunnel into a massive missile bunker. Home sweet home.
Terabyte transformed with the familiar sound of her t-cog sounding smoother than it had in months. Still a bit ragged, but she was far from complaining. Her processors hurt from trying to puzzle out this strange, unprecedented bond she held with Skyquake and Arcee's theories. It wasn't the first time a bot had assumed that they were bonded. And given the way spark bonds worked, it was highly uncommon for that assumption to be made.
It could hardly be coincidental.
She had never really seen Skyquake in that way, until the recent events since she found him here on Earth. After seven vorns apart, their defection, the turmoil the Decepticons had put her through… She'd come to realize just how much the mech meant to her.
Most bots would now say that they didn't know what they would do without him. But thanks to Soundwave, she knew exactly what she would do without him and it terrified her.
He was her anchor.
Her finials twitched and she realized that there was shouting coming from the main computers. All of her personal thoughts instantly ceased and were filed neatly in the back of her mind to come back to. She cocked her helm and followed Arcee into the chamber.
"-ain why I'm receiving reports of two jumbo-size bots mixing it up by a gas station just outside of Oklahoma?" Agent Fowler's familiar, condescending voice snapped at the Prime.
The little femme's armor bristled at the disrespectful tone towards her Prime.
"Decepticons?" Arcee suggested, glancing at her as she spoke.
Terabyte kept her posture and tone poised with ease. She was well-accustomed to the team's expectation for her to know everything that went on amongst the Decepticons. "There has been much infighting amongst the Decepticons, it would not be unusual for an infaction skirmish to attract attention. They pay no heed to human wellbeing."
"Megatron can't seem to keep his ranks in line." Everyone turned to give Cliffjumper an acknowledging nod as he entered the room, winking at Terabyte, "Which we can all agree has worked out in our favor, with three new recruits."
No one else seemed to notice the disgusted growl that rumbled off of the green Wrecker, or the stifled whine from Bumblebee's engine as he shot the spy a pleading look. She merely shuttered her gold optics briefly in a negative.
The scout was young, and unaccustomed to deceiving those he cared about. She felt an amount of regret at making him withhold things from his family, but her determination remained firm. It would do them all better to live in harmony as best they could. She could handle a little antagonism from the one mech on this team that she could never trust anyway.
"Well, I'm just arriving on the scene now." Fowler's voice stated, drawing everyone's attention back to the holographic monitors with the visual feed from his aircraft. "Have a look."
Bulkhead was the first to speak, "I don't know, paint job aside, it can't be Sk-"
Terabyte cut him off with a sharp intake, "Oh no, Sky…"
All intentions she had of remaining in the main chamber to observe the situation disappeared as she hurried toward the med-bay as fast as she could without running, knowing that that was where he would already have been for his checkups.
He was curled up on the floor beside his berth, helm bent and his hands over his spark, coolant streaking his silver faceplates, huge green wings trembling. The jet was mumbling incoherently, the occasional recognizable word in Daiz'pq'rion touching her audials. Even the Decepticons rarely spoke Daiz'pq'rion save to swear since Cybertron faded, though Skyquake had taught it to her. Everyone spoke Cy-Stan anymore, 'Bots and 'Cons alike.
"Brother… pain, pain, so much pain… Come?"
"I do not know what happened, I was simply administering the average quartexly checkup when the fellow shrieked and started writhing and he fell off the berth, but I cannot lift the mech for the life of me when he keeps babbling on and lashing out if I come near him, but the dialect he speaks is fascinating, pray tell is that Dazezik'n? But what is wrong with him? What is going on? Do you know? Lieutenant?" Jetfire looked desperately relieved to see her, his vocalizers not falling silent for even an astrosecond since she stepped through the door but she didn't hear a word he said.
She knelt beside Skyquake and wrapped an arm around him, gently caressing the edge of his wing like a flier's carrier would to sooth him. Her other hand she placed over his much larger hand over his spark, feeling the heat coming from his stressed frame.
Terabyte allowed a soft, comforting hum to sound from her engines as she continued to comfort the mech in silence, knowing that no words would reach him now. His ruby optics were wide, clouded and unseeing as memories both his and not swarmed his mind and spark.
His mumbling ceased suddenly and she vented, thinking that whatever had come over him had passed, "Sky? What's wrong? What happened?"
The gladiator showed no sign of having heard her, standing up abruptly and knocking her to her aft. She didn't think that he had even noticed her presence.
"I will come, brother."
"Skyquake!" She called after him, switching to Daiz'pq'rion in the hopes of penetrating through his daze, reaching one hand out towards him as though to stop his exit, though his thrusters were already activated. He had not felt his other half for over seven vorns, nothing would stop him now and she knew that. But she had to try. "Skyquake, stop! Please!"
He halted for a moment, turning back to look her in the optics, his ruby gaze clearing for the briefest of moments, his tone quizzical, "My Spark?"
Just as quickly as the moment came, it passed and he shook his helm gruffly, raising his gun and blasting a hole through the ceiling of the missile silo, watching the dust and rubble crumble down.
"Sky, wait!" Terabyte pleaded, coolant beginning to pool in her optics, "Your family-"
Her voice was drowned out in the scream of his engines as he tore off through the hole he'd made. She bit back a sob, blinking away the coolant with a growl of frustration at her failure to stop him. Perhaps it was foolish but as she held a hand over her spark she felt that the ceiling wasn't the only hole he'd left.
His Spark.
He'd called her his Spark.
Surely he hadn't meant it like that? Perhaps her Daiz'pq'rion was not so good as she thought; after all, many words sounded quite similar to the unpracticed listener.
"Your family is here." The femme finished quietly, little more than a whisper.
In less than a klick after Skyquake's dramatic exit, the rest of the Autobots had gathered around to gape up at the patch of sunlight now shining through the ceiling of their supposed secret base. When they had all gotten a good optic-full of the hole, they all turned to stare at her, expecting an explanation.
Optimus regarded her with an unreadable gaze, and his tone was just as much a mystery to her, "Terabyte, for what purpose has Skyquake taken leave of us in such an… abrupt manner?"
She hesitated for a moment to collect herself, her flared armor shifting uncomfortably, "I assume you are all aware of the identity of the mech Agent Fowler reported?" The femme hardly waited for the unanimous nod, "Dreadwing has returned, Skyquake has been summoned by their split spark."
"Is his loyalty certain?" Arcee had never been one for 'beating around the bush' as the humans said.
Terabyte's gold optics held an uncertain waver, and her voice, though steady, was quiet. "I do not know. His loyalty lies with his spark first and foremost. Dreadwing has always been the leading spark."
Cliffjumper scoffed, "Twin-lore, that's all, ole' Jetbrain won't give us up that easy, have a little faith in the mech."
"This is not a matter to be taken lightly, Cliffjumper." Ratchet spoke gravely, the clouded look of being lost in memories in his teal optics, "I know more about twins than all of Cybertron's Golden Age medics ever dreamed. She speaks the truth. If Dreadwing is in fact the dominant spark, Skyquake could be lost to us unless we persuade his brother to join us as well."
"What if his spark chose somebot besides Dreadwing?"
Everyone stared at Arcee with tilted helms and quirked optic ridges.
The old medic shook his helm, "Impossible, twins never give each other up."
Before the older femme could go on, Terabyte cut her off, clearing her vents to catch everyone's attention away from what Arcee was suggesting, "Agent Fowler will be awaiting our arrival, we ought to end this battle as quickly as possible and get all Cybertronians away from human eyes before there are casualties."
Prime nodded in approval, "Terabyte is correct. Ratchet, activate the groundbridge."
In less than a klick, Optimus had gathered Terabyte, Cliffjumper, and Bulkhead through the green, white, and purple hued portal. The spy briefly seized up the area and situation with a preliminary scan, masked lip-plates turning downwards in distaste as she recognized the second bot in the battle was Wheeljack.
What was the Wrecker doing back again?
And why had he brought Dreadwing with him?
Earth was a heavily inhabited planet, any bot in their right processors would know better than to bring their battles to such a planet. Though it did not surprise her; the Wreckers never had cared much about collateral damage.
On the positive, Skyquake had not yet arrived. She commed the team, /It would be best if we could see that the fighting is over before Skyquake arrives. The strength of a renewed bond after such time apart could very well lead him to turn against us against his choosing./
"'Against his choosing'." Bulkhead scoffed quietly behind her, "We all know he'd love to scrap each and every one of us if he had the chance."
She didn't even deem him worthy of a glare.
/Those were my thoughts as well, Terabyte./ Optimus agreed, leading the charge on Dreadwing, guns blazing.
Just as she was coming into and effective range, she watched Dreadwing kick the Wrecker's abdomen, then unleash a hail of Energon pellets on him from his machine gun. Wheeljack fell back with a grunt and Terabyte dashed into the battle, firing her cannon as she ran towards the navy and gold jet, striking his cockpit and cracking the plexiglass with the force.
She unsheathed her golden Energon blade with a shink and slid between the roaring jet's pedes, slicing at the back of his knee before rising to glare at the twin of her Sky.
The little femme sneered at him, "Dreadwing."
"Terabyte." He replied, crouching slightly to balance his weight with the machine gun. The jet grinned at her, "I see you finally betrayed us."
Terabyte growled, but kept up the banter as Bulkhead took the distraction as an opportunity to get Wheeljack back on his pedes. "I see you finally remembered the War did not end. Missing in action for three vorns?"
Now was his turn to growl, but rather than defending his absence, the mech merely charged her, swinging a massive, spiked fist towards her spark. She ducked easily beneath the obvious attack, stabbing the mech in the thigh as she rose and nodding in satisfaction as he hissed, life-En oozing from the gash.
"Got a bit slow in your leave of absence, it would seem." She commented, acting as though they were in one of the sparring sessions they occasionally had.
She dodged another blow with a roll, putting enough distance between her and the mech to fire her cannon again, hitting him in the shoulder this time. The two-wheeler bit back a cry as that same distance allowed Dreadwing to unleash his massive, two-handed gun in her direction, spraying her frame with the small Energon pellets, one of which plunged itself into her face-plates, dangerously close to her optic.
Transforming, the femme sped off, back towards the Prime, putting distance between herself and Dreadwing, allowing the rest of the team to open fire. A wince tightened over her faceplates as she flipped back into her bipedal mode, the pellet holes still smoking slightly as she added her cannon-shots to her team's.
Not long after her short retreat, Dreadwing too transformed and jetted off, staying close to the ground. As he passed near the gas station, Optimus ordered a cease-fire, but Wheeljack continued his pursuit, firing sloppily in the jet's direction.
"Jackie, no!" Bulkhead shouted after him.
/If a single spark from those shots touches the fuel station, it will…/ Terabyte paused in her unheeded warning as the gas station erupted in a fiery cloud of smoke and debris, the shockwave leaving her finials ringing. Smoke and flames billowed high over the wreckage.
/… do that./ She finished dryly, glaring at the white, green, and red Wrecker.
Wheeljack shrugged as the rest of the team caught up to him, the whole party's EM fields radiating displeasure. "Dreadwing rigged the place to blow."
Cliffjumper cocked an optic ridge at the mech, "Dread? That was all your handiwork, mech."
"It's called a gas station." Bulkhead informed him, "Kinda like an Energon depot. Doesn't mix well with blaster fire."
The other mech just grunted, shrugging again, "Well our 'Con's getting away."
"There are other considerations, Wheeljack." Optimus said solemnly, his rich baritone sounding more annoyed than Terabyte had ever heard it. "While upon this world, you would do well to follow my lead."
Forest, Location unknown
Brother.
His brother was here. On Earth. In this forest. To be precise, his brother was standing a few meters away from him, watching him with mirrored expression and gaze. For the first time in his life, Skyquake understood why many found the idea of staring into one's twin's face disturbing, it was like looking into a mirror at a reflection you couldn't control.
The two jets stood, statuesque, making no contact, physical or mental, neither saying a word. Seven vorns was a very long time for a spark's halves to be isolated from each other.
Skyquake flicked a wing. Terabyte's pleading cry for him, in his own mother tongue even, still rang in his audials, her coolant-dampened gold optics clear in his mind's optic. His brother had been holding the bond closed for vorns, even before he left. They had grown distant, comrades, good partners, and yet detached. Comrades and nothing more. That was what Megatron had always wanted for his protégés, he had never wanted twin gladiators, he had wanted two separate warriors.
As he probed the old, unused sparkbond, Skyquake wondered if he hadn't already gotten what he wanted.
"Leave it."
He flinched from the disgusted snarl coming from his own spark brother. Dreadwing sneered at him, "You too wear their cursed sigil? You left our duty, our cause, our master? All for the femme."
Green wings flicked, but his expression remained stoic. "And what is our cause but a sea of the lifeblood of our own people because of millennia past sins, committed by the offlined rulers of a dead world?"
"And you would throw away eighty vorns of honor and loyalty to Megatronus, to Lord Megatron, for a femme who's not even lived for thirty?"
Skyquake felt his words cut to his very spark. Cybertronians did not see age as organic races did; when a being was practically immortal, what was a few decavorns? However, she was a war-born, of neutral descent or not. For a long time she had seen him as a mentor and friend. What did she see him as now? She'd only hardly had her last sparking day.
On a Golden Age Cybertron, she would still be learning to walk again in her adult frame.
However, that did nothing to change the fact that she had worn an adult frame for over a decavorn now. She was a full-grown by all rights and had been for vorns, Dreadwing was a fool to think that would change anything in his spark. He had known it ever since her very first assignment to the field, when he realized that he would move heaven and earth to make sure that that tiny femme would always come back.
Terabyte was his One.
There was a time when I was enough for you.
Large gray hand jerked up to scratch over his spark at the sudden voice through the bond. Pulses of betrayal and anger shook him, threatening to knock him to his knees.
When did you choose her? When did she take my place as your other half? We were inseparable, two, yet one spark, brothers in arms, we would bring honor to our people. Glory to our names, power to our race. Dreadwing had stepped closer to his twin, his EM field and sparklink both roaring with raw pain. Does your own half-spark not break at your betrayal? Have I not always had your back and spark?
Skyquake refused to use the bond that Dreadwing himself for so long had kept sealed and distant from him. He had always been the one who went to the twin-bond for reassurance, comfort, a reprieve from the carnage of the Pits, and later of the War. He had always gone to Dreadwing.
He had never been the strong one. Megatron had never wanted him, he was just part of the package.
"No." He said quietly, deliberately funnelling the memories of his turmoil, his spark-ache, his rage, the feral memories of the quartex at a time that his other half would walk the halls of their base and fuel in the same chamber, yet be so far away, Dreadwing's simultaneous nearness and distance driving him clinically insane. A madness of spark rather than processor, orns at a time being completely alone in the darkness of the empty bond, lost in the abyss between them that only his twin held the bridge to.
A single drop of coolant slid down his twin's gold faceplates.
"'Quake…" The navy jet whispered, "I never meant-"
"You never meant to break our spark?" He spat, "All for what? The approval of a power-starved madmech and your own selfishness."
Dreadwing reached a futile hand out to his brother, meaning to touch his two front fingers to his chest to feel the pulse of his other half, as they had always done in hard times to remind themselves that they were still alive, whole, and together. Skyquake swatted the hand aside.
"I know who spoke 'on my behalf' to Megatron that cycle." He hardly raised his voice over a low, angry whisper, "You suggested he send me to this mudball all those vorns ago. That I could not control my anger. Imbalanced, insubordinate, and unpredictable."
The other mech's expression turned unreadable, but his mirror ruby optics were wide with shock. Ironic that after so many vorns of blocking him out, his twin could now no longer.
"You made the choice first, Dreadwing." Skyquake turned his back to his twin, his spark aching, but it was an old ache; an ache that he had come to accept and heal from. "I am merely choosing to stand by the one bot who has always been here for me when I most needed help. As my twin, I always thought that bot would be you."
You always did think I was wrong though. He smiled wryly at the sad thought that he allowed to drift through the bond that would have been better off to have stayed shut. Goodbye… Brother.
A Year Ago: Outer Space
Explosions rang through his audials. Smoke filled his blurred vision. He could hear medical tools, but he didn't feel damaged. Odd. A dark, fuzzy silhouette stood over him, EM field strangely comforting, though he couldn't quite place why the figure was familiar.
Sleep seemed to pour into him from own power-lines…
He bolted upright with a gasp, looking about him hastily, vents heaving. Iacon was under attack! He had to defend the old mech!
Wait.
This wasn't Iacon.
Smokescreen rubbed a hand over his helm and groaned. A Decepticon brig. Some grand defender he'd been.
The white and blue Praxian fluttered his wings for a klick, listening, scanning, and sensing with all his might, just like Alpha Trion had trained him. A constant hum in the air was distracting him though, continually droning, vibrating beneath him and all around him.
A ship?
"Either that or there's some 'Con oaf 'charging outside, snoring up a solar storm." He rolled his optics. He was beginning to regret not paying attention to the bearded magenta geezer. At least he'd be able to tell where he was if he had.
He was just about to give up and flop back down on the hard brig berth when he picked up very faint pedefalls, from quite far away still. Down the hall a good ways probably from the sounds of it. Smokescreen whistled, must be a massive ship to have halls that could carry sound like that.
"…on, Sixshot, he may be like us! 'Sides, the Captain asked us to let her know if he woke up. Can't exactly do that if we don't check on him, can we?"
A grunt.
The bubbly femme voice had said Sixshot. Sixshot. As in, the Sixshot? As in, the six-forming freak of nature that was a one bot army that could destroy whole planets single-handedly?
"Scrap."
A beige and orange little femme whirled in on wheeled pedes, a bright smile on her face, ornamental audial attachments swinging gaily on the sides of her helm. Beside her stood the biggest mech Smokescreen had ever seen, covered in more weapons than the Elite Guard's armoury. He shuddered to think what else the war machine would have in his subspace.
"Whaddya know? He's up!" She rolled up close to the force field holding him in, waving her servo at him kindly, "How d'ya like some Energon to wake ya up the rest of the way, Smokey?"
To his surprise, the little femme pulled down the field and gestured for him to follow them. He supposed they didn't see him as a threat. Why would they with Sixshot on their side? He smirked faintly. Well, they may have the best war mech in the universe, but underestimating him would be a mistake. He would just have to figure out where the escape pods were, then give these 'Cons the slip.
They wouldn't know what hit them.
He puffed up his chest with confidence, sauntering out of the cell like he owned the place, shaking the femme's hand, "I'm Smokescreen."
Memory nagged him a little bit that she'd already called him Smokey, meaning they already knew who he was, but he brushed it aside. How would they know him? He must've imagined it.
Following them through the ship, the femme, Lickety-Split she'd called herself, was content to talk constantly, telling him what every room they passed was, giving him a fairly good mental map of the ship, which from what he could tell was as big as any Decepticon warship. There could be a thousand bots housed in here for all he knew.
She kept talking about this Captain, how as soon as he met the Captain, she'd explain everything. Including how he would 'fit into things'. Smokescreen didn't like the sound of that at all. It would probably be best if he never had the misfortune of meeting this Captain 'Racer. He'd just have to get out of here before they took him to her then.
Possibly a thousand Decepticons, including Sixshot, in a ship the size of a small city, all of whom no doubt wanted to torture him for information or just kill him for kicks.
Shouldn't be so hard, right?
*Ahtzobahts: The dialect of the Autobots. (As pronounced by Decepticons)
*Cy-Stan/Cyber-Standard: Cybertronian Standard. Universal language on the planet Cybertron.
*Dazezik'n: The dialect of the Decepticons. (As pronounced by Autobots)
*Daiz'pq'rion: The dialect of the Decepticons. (As pronounced by Decepticons)