Nightbeat

Four years on this wretched mudball, four years with virtually nothing to show for it, all while Cybertron was likely being savaged by the monsters of their most ancient myths. Had those myopic, jackass Maximals gotten off their asses and done the right thing when he had first told them of the sparkeater break out, perhaps they could have gotten the Manifest back home in time to confine the menace to the northernmost Torus Heights and maybe wipe it out entirely. The weapons systems reported to have been built into the Manifest were the stuff of legend, capable of wiping out civilizations in a matter of hours. Even if exaggerated, the martial prowess of the ship would still be a tremendous asset, as would its ability to transport vast numbers of Cybertronians should their efforts to combat the threat prove insufficient. But it mattered not, the Maximals would not help, and Nightbeat's search had proven fruitless for nearly half a decade. He had finally gotten desperate enough to consider enlisting the aid of the humans.

Dallas Texas was typically warm, even this deep into November, but right now it was still under seventy degrees Fahrenheit, as the humans in this region of the world measured ambient temperature, just warm enough to burn off most of the rain that had been coming down until a few hours ago. Americans, that's what they called themselves here, currently one of two super powers on the planet, and likely the one nation whose government would have some degree of knowledge on how to possibly locate the Manifest. Well, truth be told, that would be a longshot, but they might know something, and Nightbeat had no doubt that they were aware of the existence of Cybertronians on their planet. He even had a suspicion that they had some sort of Cybertronian asset at their disposal. Why else would they seem so knowledgeable of what Nightbeat was and what he was talking about when he made his first contact with them via coded radio transmission. No, that wasn't accurate, his first contact was made via his empty car mode in plain English to one J. Edgar Hoover as he was walking down the street, and the Head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was initially stunned and remained dubious throughout their short conversation, but he did agree to Nightbeat's request to pass on his request to speak to any of Hoover's colleagues who may be more interested in extra-terrestrial incursions than Hoover, who claimed that his focus was on 'criminals and commies'. He also agreed to pass on the empty car's suggested method for remote, untraceable communication.

It had been a Richard Bissell who had contacted Nightbeat, currently the head of some think tank that evaluated weapons systems for the Pentagon, but Nightbeat was more familiar with his involvement in a failed attempt to oust Fidel Castro a couple years before, as well as his involvement in the creation of a secret military base in southern Nevada. Within moments of contact, it became clear that this Bissell, and by extension his superiors, were aware of what Nightbeat was and possibly what he was after. They had arranged a meeting here, in Dallas, for a possible meeting with the President of the United States. But first there was a vetting process.

"Good choice." The human male stated as he made his way toward what appeared to be an empty car in an empty alley. Caucasian, early twenties, brown hair cut short and slicked back, no facial hair, five feet nine inches in height, lean muscular build, dressed in a black tee shirt and blue jeans, just as he'd been described in earlier communications. The man approached, opened the door and slid into the seat without hesitation. "In my opinion, the 59 Parisienne is so much better looking than the more recent versions. Though not sure about blue with yellow accents."

"It's my natural coloration, tweaked a bit to better accommodate this form, but overall just my natural colors." The car replied through the dashboard. "I chose this form to operate incognito, not to impress federal agents making a poor attempt to look like greasers."

"I WAS a greaser before joining the Marines." The human replied. "Sergeant William Witwicky, though you can call me Sparkplug. A nickname I got in high school auto shop that I've been informed might be more in line with the names you guys give each other. Unless you're nobility or something, then based on my research, I may need to come up with something more Latin-sounding. At least we think the upper crust names would translate to pseudo-Latin."

"I must commend you on your intelligence gathering." Nightbeat replied. "The English translation of my name, at least one that I seem to like best, would be Nightbeat."

"Commoner it is then." The human smiled.

"Sparked up in Glibax Central District Hot Spot Number Three." Nightbeat quipped back.

"I think I may have given you the impression our intelligence gathering was better than it actually is." Sparkplug chuckled. "I have no idea what any of that means."

"Just verifying my common birth." The dashboard explained.

"Good, I've never been one for fancy people." Sparkplug replied with a chuckle.

"Are any of your assets highborn?" Nightbeat took a chance, fully expecting the sarcastic laugh that came back to him in response.

"Assets? What assets?" The human replied through chuckles.

"I know you have at least one." Nightbeat replied. "An incident occurring in New Mexico shortly after the last World War. It's hard to dig through your files as most of them are paper, which few of my systems can scan from a distance, but I did uncover something about a large human-shaped mechanism found in the desert that claimed to be a living creature."

"I see." The human replied dubiously. "Look, I'm not in a position to reveal what we know. Hell, I only know a tiny fraction of what 'we' know, though I will say that we really don't need any Cybertonian assets to know that your people are engaging in a very small-scale war on our planet. But that's for you to discuss with someone more important than me. I'm here to assess the threat you pose to people higher on the totem pole than I am."

"Including your Commander in Chief."

"Yeah, really don't want to be the guy known for introducing the President to his assassin." Sparkplug quipped un-humorously.

"Kennedy is in this city, I know where he is, I know where he's scheduled to be." Nightbeat explained. "If I wanted him, or any other individual human being killed, I'd be able to kill them without your help. Now, I realize that it's your job to vet me, so do your job, but you must realize that ultimately, your President is far more valuable to me alive and operating freely in his position than he would be dead or captured. And it really benefits me to leave him with a positive view of me and those I serve, who, for the record, are not affiliated with those waging war on your planet."

"You're saying you have nothing to do with the reports of oddly-sized animals turning to armored humanoids ranging from three feet to twenty feet in height firing lasers and bombs at one another?" The human asked.

"They were Cybertronians that were relocated to other worlds millions of years ago that only a sliver of a percentage of our planet is aware of." Nightbeat replied. "It'd be like Japan blaming England for dropping those atomic bombs on them eighteen years ago, only less so as England is aware of your existence and was even your ally at that time. These former colonies of ours act independently and completely without our knowledge." The human smiled and nodded at the car's words. "You already know this, don't you? Is this part of the vetting process?"

"Maybe." Sparkplug chuckled. "Don't worry, so far you haven't raised any alarms or told any obvious lies."

"I'm being completely on the level with you, and I promise I will continue to do so." Nightbeat asserted.

"I'm leaning toward believing you; as I'm sure the President would as well. That's the only reason we scheduled this." The human replied. "The fact is that he's eager to meet you. I got a bushel full of instructions from most of my superiors, but the only thing the President said to me was not to screw this up for him." Sparkplug smiled at the steering wheel, not sure where else to address the alien creature he was sitting in. "But just so you know, we're going to be tight lipped about what we know, just as we'll be expecting you to be."

"Actually, I'm willing to tell you just about everything I'm aware of." Nightbeat replied. "I don't have time for games. Frankly, the idea of Earth posing any sort of threat to my world is inconceivable, and even if you could, Cybertron's already in far greater jeopardy right now than anything you humans could throw at it, which is why I need the Evident to save my planet."

"The Evident? The big warship scuttled somewhere on our planet?" Sparkplug asked with a bit of confusion. "I thought it was called the Manifest."

"That does make a far better translation to English, let's go with Manifest." Nightbeat stated thoughtfully. "You're not really a spy, are you? That was a pretty amateur slip for someone playing at knowing nothing about the possession of an asset."

Sparkplug chuckled. "No, not a spy, just a jarhead who got assigned guard duty and became friends with…some individuals and became far more familiar with what you are and your culture than any other expendable."

"For your own benefit going forward, Sergeant William Witwicky," Nightbeat cut in, "don't suggest that you know what you know because of where you were assigned to someone who knows your name and has demonstrated some ability to pilfer your government's files."

"Good point." Sparkplug replied without concern. "But one, my files have been moved to a level that even you would have trouble pilfering, and frankly, I'd have expected you to look me up anyway. And two, you're the one that let slip that your home world is in trouble. Care to elaborate?"

"I'd rather not, at least not at this juncture." Nightbeat replied. "Frankly, were I to describe what was happening I doubt you'd believe me."

"So be it, as you said, the idea of a human on your world is way beyond our present scope." The Marine then took a more serious tone. "So, you're after the Manifest, nothing else?"

Nightbeat chuckled this time. "If we can find the Ferrotaxis, I will leave it in your possession to do with as you please, though I would highly recommend sticking one of your nuclear weapons in it and blowing it to atoms."

"If one was built, then another could be as well." The human muttered.

"If we find the Manifest, I will help you rifle through our database for anything regarding any cyber-forming technology or projects and purge it." Nightbeat replied. "And should we find Jhiaxus alive, well, it'll make me a traitor and a pariah to my people, but you can take him as well. Another asset for your collection."

Sparkplug nodded. "Aren't you going to talk about how you don't want Cybertronian technology falling into human hands? That you're worried the Americans will have an unfair advantage over other nations and will use it to…conquer, enslave, subjugate?"

"That is a legitimate concern, one that under different circumstances would hold a great deal more weight with me." Nightbeat replied. "Frankly, what you have done to the indigenous peoples of this continent, the importation of Africans for slavery and how long the practice of slavery existed here, and the continued treatment differently-pigmented races as inferior second-class citizens is appalling. Not to mention your recent forays into kingmaking in other sovereign nations, though that's typical of any government advancing their interests, it's certainly not confined to you Americans. And I realize that a member of a society with a strictly enforced caste system has little room to judge, but I am still very afraid of letting some of our technology fall into your hands. But I'm desperate, and your society does seem to be heading in the right direction, albeit very slowly, and ultimately, between you and the Soviets, you are the lesser of two evils by an undeniable margin. But I will take precautions to ensure that you do NOT double-cross me and add the Manifest to your fleet. That will not be happening."

"Fair enough." Sparkplug replied. "At least as far as I'm concerned. I'm not able to agree to anything. But I'll be reporting that you pass muster and should be considered for a meeting with President Kennedy." The human opened the door and got out. "Feel free to watch the motorcade, though finding a spot to park with a view of the President might be a bit tricky at this point, and moving about in your other mode, yeah, probably a bad idea." He shut the door and started walking back through the alley the way that he had come. "Your colonial cousins might have the right idea, a dog or…well, probably just a dog could walk around the crowds without attracting too much attention."

Nightbeat activated his holographic driver, a very non-descript looking Caucasian man in white shirt and blue tie, a form that would attract very little attention especially in the more racially polarized American south and pulled out of the alley a few minutes after Sparkplug had left. It took a while, but he eventually found a place to park with a clear but distant view of where the President's motorcade would be driving by. Finally, the procession of government cars made their way through the downtown street and Nightbeat saw the black open-topped limousine that carried the President and the First Lady, along with Texas Governor Connally and his wife. Suddenly his energon detection system, one that he had cobbled together a couple years before, went off. There was another Cybertronian within a mile of Nightbeat's location.

Nightbeat activated all scanners on his person, trying to detect anything out of the norm. Gunpowder was everywhere, though that was to be expected with law enforcement and Secret Service agents everywhere. Though the sixth floor of a near-by building seemed odd. But gunpowder was a human issue, outside Nightbeat's jurisdiction. The energon signature was narrowed down to just below the grass of a knoll in Dealey Plaza, alarmingly close to where the President's car would be passing. Nightbeat witnessed an impossibly large orange and purple locust emerge through the grass just as a shot rang out from the window of the sixth floor of the building Nightbeat had detected the oddly located gunpowder. The shot missed, but a second shot did hit the President, one that seemed to pass through his lower neck and tear into the Governor. As this happened Nightbeat refocused on the metallic locust in the grassy knoll, and saw it fire something as well, a shot that coincided with a third shot from the sixth floor of the building. The bullet missed, the shot from the giant metal insect did not, and blood and brains sprayed over much of the limousine. Nightbeat could only watch the horrifying seen, witnessing the metallic locust descend back into the ground and the humans scurrying about to avoid what had already happened and make sense of the chaos. Amid these observations came the realization that the burgeoning alliance with the Americans was likely lost.

Orion Pax

It was chaos. Screams of panic and pain echoed off the walls of the buildings Rodion's besieged west end, as did the guttural cries of gluttonous lust coming from the dozens of sparkeaters charging the retreating citizens. Orion reminded himself that these were people in need, and that despite their ignoring of his constantly repeated warnings that their community had grown too large not to be detected by the sparkeaters, he needed to keep his frustration with them in check. Six terrified Rodion citizens came sprinting down the street, two sparkeaters clinging to the side of a building shuffling after them high above and leaping down to capture their prey. Orion charged ahead, firing a shot from his ion blaster that blasted one sparkeater right between the optics, sending it crumpling to the ground for a few moments anyway. The other noted the attack as it landed on the smallest fleeing citizen and looked up at the attacker, his optics bulging as Orion got close enough for the energy given off by his ignis superious to be detected by the monster. Orion activated his wrist axe as the two charged each other, Orion ducking low as a feint right before leaping and somersaulting over the head of the beast, whipping his axe around just as he hit the ground behind the creature, severing both legs. He then straightened, and rushed the downed sparkeater, decapitating it with another swipe and then slicing the front of its torso open enough to drive a charge he had just retrieved from his waist compartment into the chest, inches from the spark chamber. "Moooove!" Orion roared to the civilians as he too sprinted away, toward the other sparkeater with the reforming head. The charge ignited, igniting the corrupted spark, which caused the body to blast apart sending shrapnel and shockwaves all over the street.

The blast sent the civilians toppling to the ground, but Orion prepared for it and weathered the blast as though it were second nature to him, which after years of fighting these creatures it pretty much was, and remained running, swiping down at the downed cybervore's head without slowing down at all. The blow split the cranium in half, continued up and Orion pivoted back toward the beast, driving his blade back down and cutting into the creature's back. This time he tore the beast open with his hands and yanked out the spark chamber, sprinting with it in hand as he ran deeper into the chaos, calling back to the six rescued civilians as he left. "Get on the transport!"

"Primus, you're good at killing those things!" A predominantly white street racer zipped up next to him and transformed into Jazz.

"Plenty of practice." Orion muttered as he fired ahead six times, each shot connecting with a sparkeater that had set upon civilians, knocking them off each of their prey. Two of the civilians got up and started running toward Orion and Jazz, the other four appeared to be too far gone. "There's a shuttle in the clearing just south of the Militarium! Board it now!" Orion called out to the two survivors as his Autobots engaged the multitude of other sparkeaters throughout the western portion of a city he had patrolled more than eighteen years before. He had been several months old, an outsider, despised by the authority here, distrusted by most of the locals, and hunted by the emir on orders from the Prime; as inconceivable as it seemed, they were far happier times then. Orion checked the chronometer on his wrist before opening a channel to all Autobots. "Back-up one hundred twenty seconds out, primary transport lifting in three hundred seconds. Get the survivors and yourselves to the clearing in eighty!"

Orion and Jazz engaged the six sparkeaters that Orion had temporarily downed with his blaster. Jazz struggled with one, the beast stronger and far deadlier than Jazz, but years of drilling and actual combat had prepared the white and black Autobot, who was able to hold his own, but unable to expose the interior workings of the demon enough to gain access to the beast's only vulnerability. Orion was being swarmed, his axe-blade an orange whir as it cut through creature after creature, but the lop-sided numbers against him made it impossible for him to finish any of them off. The stalemate was ended as two sleek street racers, one yellow and one red, whipped around the corner from deeper in the city and sped toward the Autobot Commander, seventeen civilians following them. The racers plowed into two sparkeaters and transformed right after the impact as they tumbled down the street. Sideswipe used his rifle to blast his opponent through the left optic, the brain module, and out the rear of the cranial shell. The beast dropped, allowing the red sibling to unload on its chest, leaving it nearly disintegrated, destroyed to the point where the red Autobot could reach down, plant his feet, and yank the spark casing free.

Sunstreaker sprang up on his sparkeater wielding an energized blade, cutting the creature's throat with one swipe, then across the optics leaving it temporarily blinded with a second swipe. He then raised the blade up and drove it down, cutting the upper torso open. It wasn't nearly as deep as the cuts Orion typically left, but it was enough for Sunstreaker to turn and yell for his brother. "You got it?"

"Here!" Sideswipe flung the spark chamber toward his brother, who caught it, slapped some tar on it, and slammed it against the open chest of his opponent.

Sunstreaker leapt away, transformed and sped several dozen yards down the road. "Blow the slagging thing up already!" Sideswipe had his rifle trained on the sparkeater his brother had been fighting but was pulled down by the recovering spark-less sparkeater that he had been fighting. Sideswipe pulled away just enough to take aim again and fired a shot that penetrated the sparkchamber attached to the other sparkeater, detonated the spark, and the resultant explosion detonated the other sparkeater's exposed spark, blasting the other sparkeater to pieces and causing all movement of the one at Sideswipe's feet to cease. "It's about slaggin' time, jackass!"

More massive explosions erupted further down the street, causing the twins to flinch and then look over, seeing as the smoke cleared a charred but otherwise alright Orion Pax getting up from the ground to stand over the remains of the three sparkeaters that he had been left with. "Pax, since you're done…" Jazz's voice cut through the continuing sounds of chaos, prompting Orion to look his way and see him still struggling with a decapitated, but still deadly sparkeater. Orion charged over and raised his axe, prompting Jazz to leap away and allow his leader to have at the remaining sparkeater. Orion sliced the creature from clavicle to hip, separating the torso and leaving the bottom right corner of the spark chamber exposed. "Here, allow me." Jazz stated, standing and pulling out a charge from his hip compartment. He stuck it to the exposed portion of the chamber and the two sprinted away before he flipped the switch. The subsequent explosion sent parts of the creature all over the already garbage-strewn street.

"Hey, we know that guy!" Sideswipe yelled out as another group of civilians rounded a corner and came sprinting toward them. As they approached another seven sparkeaters were revealed to be giving them chase. Orion turned and saw the head of the group, an old, weathered but still capable looking robot that he recognized as well. "Terminus, right?"

"Yes, Terminus." Orion called out as the old former miner led his group to them, opening fire on the sparkeaters chasing them. "Get to the transport in the clearing south of the Militarium!"

"Hot Rod, lad, see these people to the transport!" Terminus ordered some young looking red, orange and yellow robot, one with sloppy, hand-painted flames adorning his chest. "I will fight alongside Officer Pax!" Terminus stopped beside Orion before turning to face the threat.

"No way old man, I'll fight, you get your rusty ass to the ship with these guys!" The one called Hot Rod snapped back.

"Boy, do as you're told, or I'll feed you to the sparkeaters myself!" Terminus snarled.

The youth grumbled but complied. "Fine, but I'm coming back!" He yelled out as he hustled those he was guiding away.

"Four-year-olds," Terminus mirthfully grumbled as he opened fired with his clunky homemade rifle, "think they know everything."

"Tell me about it." Orion joked back. "Got one at home who insisted on coming with us. I actually had to pry her fingers off the shuttle door and order a few Autobots to hold her back while we launched."

"Of course, what I remember of a one-year old Orion Pax would provide a poor example for why these zealous youngsters should do as they're told." The old robot laughed, a laugh shared by the Autobot Commander.

"Then let's keep the children ignorant of my youthful exploits." Orion chuckled as he continued landing head-shots against the advancing monsters.

"It is good to see you again, Officer Pax." Terminus said as he continued firing at the oncoming killers.

"I've been told I owe you my life." Orion smiled back.

"I think your red and yellow friends played a bigger role in that than I did." Terminus muttered. "And truth be told, had I done a better job in the decades that preceded that moment, you may never have been put in that danger."

"You were a formative influence for Megatron, I assume." Orion checked for clarification, his smile fading.

"I was not influential enough, it seems." Terminus replied sadly. "Though despite his…mistakes, I've heard his Decepticons have caused more damage to these monsters than anyone else."

"Yeah, Pax has us focus more on search and rescue than seek and destroy." The red Sideswipe interrupted. "By the way, shooting these guys is little more than wasting ammo, you're the one that taught us that, aren't you Pax?" As he said this more than a dozen more sparkeaters and a seventy-foot tall demon emerged onto the street they were on from further in the city.

"We're drawing them toward us." Orion said.

"Far be it from me to question you, Officer Pax," Terminus started.

"It's actually Commander now." Jazz corrected Terminus while he grouped in with the others and fired into the enemy monsters, who were now being bolstered by roughly twenty mutants, all armed with firearms of their own.

"Fine, Commander, I have to ask, why are we intentionally drawing these things to us?" Terminus asked.

"It's time, fall back to the field." Orion instructed as he started backing up, maintaining fire on the enemy. In moments they, along with a dozen other Autobot rescuers escorting over thirty denizens of Rodion were arriving into the field from various roads leading out of the city, the denizens sprinting toward the transport that was ready to lift off the ground. As the civilians and would-be rescuers fully cleared the line of buildings, the sparkeaters, mutants and a giant demon began swarming out as well. The demon stood tall and roared, ready to tear into them all and obliterate the shuttle just past the fleeing citizens and their Autobot protectors. But just as it was about to charge a blast from the sky impacted against its chest, the explosion powerful enough to send it hurtling backward and into a building that crumbled against the force. The mutants and Cybertronians were forced to shudder from the sound and shockwaves given off by the blast. The sparkeaters all looked to the sky to see where the shot had originated from, and saw another similarly sized freighter, but oddly shaped. It appeared to be a heavily weaponized armored cargo structure wrapped around a conical rocket, and as the rocket drew near the structure detached and dropped to the ground, further separating and transforming as it fell so that a heavily armed and armored command center and a huge front line battle tank hit the ground in front of the shuttle while the now smaller and leaner rocket peppered the sparkeater forces as it zipped overhead.

"Whoah, I knew Wheeljack put thousands of hours into the making of Omega's alt mode and armaments, but damn!" Sunstreaker yelled out excitedly. "And it looks like he successfully replicated Megatron's Macht cannon!"

"In power, though nowhere near as compact." Jazz replied. "It's still four times the size of Megatron's, but as it's for the big guy, not really much of an impediment. And he's got two, one on the rocket, one on the tank!"

"And the barrels all over the ramparts of the base's blast wall?" Sideswipe called out as he and everyone else backed up while maintaining fire.

"Ion canons!" Jazz spat back over the sounds of the chaotic retreat.

"Get the civilians in the freighter and be ready to launch!" Orion yelled out as the giant tank that was one third of Omega Supreme's base mode sped out to offer them cover and support, a red and yellow street racer zipping around it and speeding toward the defenders as well. The red car transformed into the youth Hot Rod and started firing on the sparkeaters just a few moments before the massive predominantly gray tank ground to a halt next to the Autobot Commander, a wide hatch at the side of the tank opened and lowered to the ground creating a ramp up into the huge battle vehicle. "Autobots, get the injured into Omega Supreme! Able bodied are to fall back to his forward operating base! Move it!"

"Commander Pax, please get inside!" The booming voice of the ancient Guardian came out of the tank as a half dozen wounded Autobots were hastily being loaded into it.

"Negative Omega, I fight, you get the injured to the transport, so it can take off!" Orion yelled back over the sounds of battle.

"At least let me transport you back to the base!" The tank countered. "I owe you an unrepayable debt, I cannot leave you in danger!"

"And leave all this fun?" Orion smiled as his ion blaster spit out round after round. "You owe nothing, we've covered this! Just get the civilians and injured out of here so we can move on to phase three of this donnybrook!"

"I will honor your command, though I disagree regarding the debt." The tank replied as it closed its hatch and sped back to the transport.

Orion, Terminus, Hot Rod and the remaining Autobots fell back to Omega Supreme's base, their retreat supported by the rocket zipping overhead peppering the sparkeaters and their allies with fusion bolts. The demon had pulled itself out of the building Omega Supreme's initial blast sent it into, wounded but drawing upon the energy of the spark-based creatures around it to fortify itself and accelerate the healing. That those nearest it to feed it was its allies made no difference to the giant creature, the collapsing mutants and staggered sparkeaters were beneath its notice, only the separated Guardian and the ten-foot diameter gold spark he bore were of interest to the massive monster. The freighter used to transport the Rodion civilians and the bulk of their Autobot protectors ignited its thrusters and lifted off the ground, and a moment later it was floating through the sky away from them all. On the ground, now revealed by its departure, was a much smaller, secondary transport ship, engines running and port door open with descended ramp, but seemingly parked there with no urgency to lift off.

"Autobots, converge on my location!" Orion called out. "Omega Supreme, robot mode!" The tank and base immediately began reconfiguring, joined a few seconds later by the conical rocket. The one-hundred-twenty-foot-tall fully assembled giant fired off a few rounds into the ranks of the closest sparkeaters to buy some space before looking down at Orion. "How close does that demon need to be before it can start siphoning your energy?" Orion yelled the question.

"It's almost in range now." Omega replied.

"Then do it now, as we trained!" Orion commanded. "Shoot!" With that the massive Guardian lunged forward toward the smaller demon, a massive overhand right already in the process of being delivered as he cut the distance between them. The blow, one already well in route and carrying the power it was intended to carry even as the waves of energy absorption given off by the demon began affecting Omega Supreme, possessed the mass and velocity to obliterate a building despite the early effects of the energy drain, and was more than enough to send the demon crashing to the ground with a wound to its chest that made the initial blast damage pale in comparison. The energy drain ceased as the pain and disorientation of Omega Supreme's punch eliminated the demon's control, and the Guardian was immediately upon the creature, hammering away on the monster's head. Four punches in and the bestial monster was unconscious, and to finish it off Omega lined up his cannon arm under the creature's chin while simultaneously rotating his head so that the canon of the tank turret targeted the monster's forehead and fired both fusion canons at once.

The sparkeaters had begun swarming the Guardian, but they were unable to prevent the blasts that obliterated the demon's cranial shell, an attack that left the shrapnel and fluids of its brain module leaking out various newly formed orifices. Omega Supreme rose back to his feet, shaking some of the sparkeaters off while Autobot fire knocked off a few others. He returned to his comrades, walking backward to fire on the enemy and keep them back. "Phase three accomplished, demon, terminated."

"City cleared, demon eliminated, mission accomplished!" Orion called out. "Those of you not on the diplomatic portion of this outing report to the secondary shuttle now. That includes you, Terminus, as well as your young friend. Thank you both for your assistance!"

"The fight's not over here, buddy!" Hot Rod called out, earning him glares from both Terminus and Orion.

"I assure you, Hot Rod, we have a plan, and you and the others doing as you're told is a part of that plan!" Orion barked back. "Now move!"

"Slaggin' kids!" Sideswipe chuckled, giving a playful shove to the other sleek red robot as he, Sunstreaker, Terminus, Hot Rod and the others hustled to the smaller shuttle.

"Omega, transform to combined ship mode, but maintain fire on the sparkeaters!" Orion ordered as he, Jazz and the approaching Ironhide were the last remaining Autobots. The three gathered at the base of the forming bulked up rocket, picking off the sparkeaters with shots that delayed, but did not stop the creatures. In the distance the secondary shuttle lifted off the ground, raising the ramp as it entered the air, and noting that it was safely away, Orion looked to his comrades. "Our turn." They entered the rocket and moments later Omega lifted off as well, leaving the charging sparkeaters on the ground, frustrating close to their now escaped would-be prey. "Thanks, Big Guy." Orion said as he, Jazz and Ironhide made their way into the cockpit of the rocket. "We'd have been in trouble if you hadn't of come."

"I was scheduled to arrive." Omega Supreme replied matter-of-factly. "The plan revolved around my arrival at that moment. I merely performed my function."

"He's startin' ta sound like you, Pax." Ironhide chuckled as they all took their seats.

"That is a claim that would give me great honor." Omega's voice replied through the speaker.

"If only everyone whose life you saved was this devoted to you." Jazz quipped.

"My devotion is due to more than the rescue at Tyger Pax." Omega Supreme replied.

"I get why Backstop and a bunch of the older Maximals kiss Pax's bumper," Ironhide chimed in, "but if it's not gratitude for pulling you offa tha' Spear, then why the unwavering loyalty outta tha' gate fer tha' kid?"

"Apparently Roller said something to him." Orion replied.

"Really?" Ironhide asked. "And you haven't figured out what tha' boy-emir said to 'im?"

"It took me three and a half years to get that out, and that little bit didn't even come from Omega Supreme, it came from your buddy Kup." Orion answered. "Yeah, whatever was said, Kup was there to hear it too, but neither of them will tell me more than that."

"The Lord Commander should not have said that much." Omega Supreme added. "All I will add is that while I don't know that my actions could have been any different, reflecting on my words and attitude from that day brings me shame. For those words, for my unwillingness to consider what was asked, I ask your forgiveness, Commander Pax."

"Even if I had an inkling of what you're talking about, I'm certain that there would be nothing to forgive, my friend." Orion replied humbly.

"And Roller has been tight-lipped?" Jazz asked after nearly a minute of silence.

"This tiny revelation occurred six months ago, I haven't seen Roller in nine." Orion replied. "And the few times we've had long-range communication, it's been to discuss far more important things."

"Well, today's the day to hammer 'im fer details." Ironhide chuckled.

"Arrival in Yuss in three hours." Omega Supreme stated.

"Three hours…" Jazz muttered, a playful tone in his voice, "a mere eighth of a day, and yet, for our young Commander, an eternity."

"Ha!" Ironhide belted out. "Not only a reunion with tha' Emir of The Torus Heights, but one with tha' Emir of Axiom!"

"That's enough, you two." Orion scolded with a broad smile on his face.

"Commander Pax," Omega's voice once again came through, "received verification from Prowl. He's contacted the Unified leaders and given the all clear as well as instructions for landing and where you are to meet."

"Thank you, Omega." Orion replied. The three hours, as predicted, went excruciatingly slowly, but they eventually arrived and landed in the outskirts of the desolate ghost town of Yuss in central Uraya. Even prior to the escape of the sparkeaters and the need to abandon all large population centers, Yuss was rundown and sparsely populated, but now, every building was in a state of horrific disrepair and the streets were barely fit for driving on. But the three Autobots sped down these streets despite the condition after departing from the rocket form of Omega Supreme to the coordinates given them by Prowl. Fifteen minutes later they pulled up to a shelter built and maintained by agents of House Trion for the poor and indigent of the city tens of thousands of years ago, but with the advance of the sparkeaters had been abandoned like the rest of the city.

As they came to a stop Prowl stepped out of the building and approached them. "Greetings Commander Pax, Ironhide, Jazz, welcome to Yuss." Prowl looked up at the façade above the doorway. "I commented to Emir Magnus that this would be a most appropriate location to greet you, given your focus on charity in this war against the sparkeaters."

"Protecting the people needs to remain the focus of the Autobots." Orion replied as they all transformed to robot mode.

"I hope Emir Magnus didn't laugh too hard at your joke, given that our successes against the enemy far eclipses those of his unified coalition." Jazz shot back.

"That will be enough of that talk!" Orion scolded. "These are our allies and friends, and we need to continue our cooperation if we want to survive this war."

"I'm fine with cooperation," Ironhide muttered, "but we all know that tha' first thing he'll a be demandin' is us joinin' his forces, with him in command."

"I'm not going to pick a fight," Jazz continued, "but if Delta Magnus starts pushing that again, I may have to make a comment about the futility of arguing with success."

"I said enough." Pax replied less forcefully, an almost acknowledgment of possessing the same frustration and opinion.

"For the record, he didn't laugh." Prowl replied as they entered the building. "He grumbled."

They descended over a dozen flights of stairs before emerging into a large sub-basement. The supplies that had been kept in this storage room for the shelter above them had long since been cleaned out, and all that was left in the empty room was a long rectangular table with dozens of non-Decepticon resistance leaders seated or standing around it engaged in many different personal conversations. "There he is!" A familiar and jovial voice boomed over all others, and a blue robot rounded the crowd and charged the Autobots, throwing himself at Orion and embracing his brother.

Orion squeezed back. "I missed you Roller."

"Enough of the soft stuff, there O." Roller scolded jokingly as they pulled back away from each other just in time for Orion to be slammed into and embraced by Torenia, who clutched him tightly and tearlessly wept as she squeezed him.

"I missed you too, Mother." Orion kissed the top of her head as he held her.

"Orion Pax, Commander of the Autobots, Commander of the Maximals, Heir to and Last of House Convoy, and first killer of sparkeaters in fifteen million years!" The familiar voice of Olnius Pax called out as he and Stronghold Pax approached behind the other Paxes. Orion reached out and shook their hands, Torenia still hugging and refusing to release him.

"Don't forget mayor of a garbage heap." Roller muttered quietly and playfully.

"That is an impressive string of titles." Another familiar voice cut in, one that was heard just as a familiar tingling in the spark could be felt.

Orion smiled as he looked over to the right and saw Elita One approaching him in a dignified manner. Torenia finally released Orion and gave the slightest of shoves, prompting him to step toward the Emir of Axiom. "Elita One." Orion formally addressed from a distance, lowering his voice to a whisper as the two came face to face. "My warrior queen."

"Later." She whispered back.

"Yes, a very impressive string of titles." The voice of Delta Magnus stated from across the room, his loud voice causing all other noise in the room to cease. "I fear that these titles have gone to your head though."

"I have no titles, Emir Magnus, save for Autobot Commander." Orion replied as he turned to face the leader of the unified coalition of high houses and government forces. "A position that my soldiers are free at any point to remove from me should they feel I'm no longer worthy of it."

"Not a slaggin' chance a' that!" Ironhide belted out.

Orion smiled at the old red former constable turned Autobot. "Otherwise, I am simply Orion Pax of Iacon."

Delta Magnus peered at him intently for a moment before continuing. "According to what Elita One reported four years ago, the question of your Convoy heritage is no longer a question. The testimony that this Backstop of the Amber Plains presented her, testimony that she believes and that therefore I have no reason not to believe, all but confirms how Convoy metallico arrived in the cave you were born in. With that, and your look, and apparently your 'taste', I think at this point most, if not all of us, are ready to accept that you are of House Convoy, entitled to the honor that goes with that." The statement caused some grumbling with some of the members of royal houses in attendance, but no one objected beyond that.

Orion looked around the room before re-fixing his gaze on Delta Magnus, sending a small nod to the Mistress of Flame staring intently at him from just over Delta's right shoulder. "I'm entitled to nothing, but yes, I've spoken with Backstop many times in the last four years, he is…" Orion smiled, "enthusiastic in his support of me and more than insistent that I am of the Convoy metallico he left in that cave. I've come to accept that he's telling the truth, that on this one point Violen Jiger was truthful as well. I am of Convoy metallico." Orion cocked his head. "But while interesting, that changes nothing about who or what I am. As I said, my birth entitles me to nothing."

"I believe that you say that because there are no more Convoy lands for you to rule. No more holdings for you to draw from." The powerfully built, blue and white Dominus Ambus chimed in as he stepped forward, just off to the left of Delta Magnus. "Convoy lands overlapped the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights."

"Aye?" Orion stated questioningly, not sure of the point of this discussion.

"Pledge your forces, all of your forces, to our coalition." Delta Magnus continued. "Do this, and Convoy lands will be restored to you once the sparkeaters, and then the Decepticons, are defeated. Lands that you will rule with complete independence from Houses Magnus and Ambus."

"Half of the wealth we're able to recover from House Onyx and its holdings will be given to you to rebuild your house and restore your lands." Dominus Ambus followed. "And, it goes without saying, any criminal activity that you may have been sought for will be pardoned in full."

"With your restored legal standing, your vastly enhanced social standing, the Onyx wealth, your restored lands, and the esteem you've already earned in the war against the sparkeaters, House Convoy will be a rival to the royal houses, as it once was." Delta finished. "All for doing what you should have done when this war first began."

Orion nodded, continued looking to Delta Magnus for a few moments before allowing his gaze to sweep all other highborn occupants of the room, before settling on his three Autobots, giving them a smile. "I am an Autobot, my loyalty is to my fellow Autobots and their ideals. As stated twice before, I am entitled to nothing based solely on the nature of my birth. I have no interest in lands and holdings. I have no interest in my own personal glory. As for the promise of a pardon, those that wish to pursue legal action against me post-war for my actions against Sentinel Prime are welcome to do so, and I will be happy to face all charges in a fair and transparent court. As for my honor, my interest in it extends to the point where I can be regarded as an honest and good man, and no further than that. I accept the rank of Autobot Commander because the Autobots feel I am deserving of the role and will serve them well, and I have devoted my entire being to do so. I expect the respect that comes with that rank only while I have and am worthy of that rank. I will never put myself in a position where others are obligated to kneel before me, nay, I am opposed to anyone kneeling before another, as are all Autobots. I am of the family Pax, their words are and will always be my words, I am of Convoy heritage, and I also have taken their words as my own, but I will never accept any enhanced citizenship or other trappings that come with either of those names. And as Commander of the Autobots, and unofficial guardian of the Maximals, I will serve their best interests to the utmost of my abilities. And for that reason, I must once again decline your offer of joining your unified forces." Orion shrugged. "That said, we Autobots and Maximals will continue to be faithful allies and brothers in arms, standing shoulder to shoulder against our enemy, whether they be sparkeater or Decepticon."

Delta Magnus glared at him silently for nearly a minute before finally responding. "You're a fool, Orion, you've always been a stubborn fool." He then turned, marched to the table, and sat down. "But I see there's no changing your mind, so we might as well get down to business." Orion nodded and like with every other leader and advisor in the room, moved to the table and found a seat. "Some of you are aware of this, but most of you are not. We have been summoned to a region south of Vos to meet with the Decepticons.

"So what?" Ironhide replied. "We have these alliance meetings darn near quarterly, why are we having a secret meeting with you ta' discuss having anther secret meeting with tha' Decepticreeps?"

"Because this is more than just a typical quarterly alliance meeting." Ultra Magnus, who was seated conspicuously far from his kinsman Delta, replied. "Megatron has something large in mind, apparently he is in possession of some type of world-changing weapon and is planning on using this area as a staging point for all forces to initiate a tide-turning assault on our enemy."

"That's suicide." Torenia Pax gasped.

Dominus Ambus shook his head. "Megatron claims that his weapon will overwhelm the sparkeater army and wipe them out. He claims that even Violen Jiger himself will have no chance against it."

"What kind of weapon could he possess that's so formidable?" Elita One, seated next to Orion with Torenia Pax on his other side, asked. "Even the Apex Armor had little impact against him."

"You, in the Apex Armor, had little impact against him." Delta Magnus replied tersely.

"I placed the disk in your mighty hands, Emir Magnus." Elita snapped back. "I would happily allow one as powerful as you to wear it into battle, to have it increase your prodigious strength fivefold, but unfortunately it would not respond to you, so your continued frustration and insults are silly and unproductive."

Delta Magnus nodded. "You're right, Elita One, I apologize. My comment was rooted in overall frustration, not in any frustration with you personally. Please forgive me."

"Forgiven, let's move on." Elita pushed impatiently, seemingly fully accepting of the apology but still annoyed. "What kind of weapon could he possess? Like with the Apex Armor, his Cannon of Machtus is beyond impressive, but has come up wanting against Violen Jiger."

"It's a battle station." Orion stated, causing every set of optics to turn to him. Orion turned to Prowl and nodded.

Prowl hesitated for a moment, giving Orion a look displaying his lack of certainty regarding this course of action, but proceeded none the less and turned to everyone else, rounding his gaze to take them all in as he spoke. "The following information is to remain in this room. If you truly fear and despise the Decepticons, then word of this will not leave here. Is that understood?" Prowl stared intently at everyone in the room for nearly a minute before feeling comfortable enough to continue. "We have an asset embedded within the Decepticon army. He's been feeding us information as he's able for nearly three years now. The biggest nugget he's fed us is regarding a massive mobile battle station, one capable of flight and more heavily armed and armored than anything in history. It's located in Vos, or south of it anyway. I guess as this meeting is to take place in or around Vos, Megatron's summons is in regard to this Trypticon Battle Station."

"Trypticon?" Minimus Ambus asked from his elevated seat. "As in Deathsaurus's old fortress?"

"According to our intel, Megatron's recycled the name." Orion answered.

"The Decepticon Commander is insistent that this weapon will turn the tide of the war. That with it and our combined forces, we'll march on Mount Kledji itself, beat them convincingly and have no trouble pushing what's left of these monsters to the polar cap and back down the hole they came from." Delta Magnus stated.

"Mount Kledji?" Orion scoffed. "He wants us to attack the sparkeater base, Violen Jiger's home, where they're most powerful? He wants to funnel our armies behind his battle station as we march into the Pentiathan where the demons number nearly one hundred thousand and can surround us with ease once we're in their mountain range?"

"He hasn't shared all the details of his plan." Delta Magnus replied. "He really hasn't shared anything with us so far, nothing aside that the assemblage is to take place to the south of Vos and that he insists that what he has to reveal will allow us to take the fight to the enemy, overwhelm them, change the course of the war and spell victory over the sparkeaters."

"He has shared the name of this gathering." Dominus Ambus added. "He's given it a name worthy of the historic datafiles. He's calling it the Grand Convocation. And he insists that the bulk and leadership of all our forces, whether they be government, high house, or outlaw commoner rights group, be in attendance, as once the Convocation has completed, we will be marching to the final large-scale battle." He delivered the last words to Orion with a friendly grin.

Orion met Dominus's friendly grin with a sad one of his own. "The Autobots and Maximals will not be attending this Grand Convocation, and I strongly urge that none of you do either."

"Do not rush to judgment." Delta Magnus countered. "No one here trusts Megatron or any Decepticon, but two facts are clear. The first fact is that he needs us. I have no doubt he'll betray us the moment the sparkeater threat is ended, but until then he can't afford to. The second fact is equally clear, as much as we hate him, he has more than proven himself an adept military commander. We don't know the specifics of what he has planned, but whatever it may be, he's too smart to be leading us, or more importantly, his own forces on a suicide mission."

"If his weapon truly is that formidable, if it truly can overwhelm the sparkeaters, then wouldn't that negate your first fact?" Prowl countered.

"Ah, thank you for reminding me, Prowl." Delta Magnus smiled. "That reminds me that there's a third fact at play here, one that Dominus Ambus touched on but that seems to have gone ignored by you. That fact is that we're going there in force, armed and prepped for all-out assault. The argument Megatron used against me years ago for creating our truce is as true for him now as it was for me then. Even if he thinks he can beat us, his forces will pay a horrific and unacceptable price, super-weapon or not, and that's a price he cannot afford if he wishes to survive against the sparkeaters."

"He insists we can win, but only if we combine forces to a level we never have before." Dominus Ambus stated. "Even with his weapon, he needs our forces to ensure victory."

"So he says." Orion countered. "If he truly believes he can defeat the sparkeaters with us, utilizing a strategy involving an assault on Mount Kledji, he's got to at least be somewhat confident that he'd be able to do so without us. If he has something to turn the tide of war, then it's likely enough to make our usefulness to him, well, far less useful. This Grand Convocation would be a perfect opportunity to eradicate the leadership of those that would oppose him post sparkeater war."

"Have you forgotten the third fact?" Delta Magnus sarcastically asked.

"A weapon that's so astonishingly effective against the sparkeaters would be every bit as effective against us." Jazz muttered.

"More so, as if you kill us, we stay dead." Orion added.

"You yourself said that according to your intel, it's just a battle station." Ultra Magnus added respectfully.

"I hope I didn't give you the impression that our asset is one of Megatron's generals." Prowl snapped. "He's verified that a seemingly undue amount of time, labor and resources have been spent on this battle station, utilizing experts in fields one wouldn't expect needed for a battle station, and that from a distance it's very impressive looking structure, but that's all he's reported to us. Megatron might have much more up his sleeve, we just don't know."

"Experts in what fields?" Ultra Magnus questioned.

"He's seen Trepan going in and out of Trypticon." Jazz answered.

"Trepan?" Acumenus Honorum asked. "Who is that?"

"Neuro surgeon." Minimus Ambus answered. "Top of his field."

"That's not ominous, that's potentially excellent news." Delta Magnus excitedly chimed in. "In all likelihood he's there treating someone, someone important. This tells me that a high ranking Decepticon is suffering from some sort of brain injury or illness."

"He's been there at least as long as our asset." Prowl added. "From what I've heard of Trepan, if he can't cure it in a couple months, it can't be cured."

"Whatever his reason for being there, I can't help suspecting, strongly suspecting, that this Grand Convocation is a trap." Orion stated. "I will not be committing my forces to this." Orion turned to Elita and then to Roller. "Whatever the others decide, I beg the two of you to refrain from going as well. If on the off chance Megatron is telling the truth, we can join his forces in route, in neutral territory, on grounds his forces can't sabotage ahead of time and where we can see them and any duplicity coming from miles away."

"Orion," Minimus Ambus announced in a far-off voice, staring vacantly into the wall opposite him, "your points, your concerns, even your suggestions; they're valid. They're worth voicing, they're worth considering, but…" the small robot looked down at the table top in front of him, "but we're desperate. We're losing." He looked up and locked his optics onto Orion's. "You've been far more successful against the sparkeaters than us, but you're barely stalemating these things. You're stalemating these things while you're using up your resources, while those you save are using up your resources. You're running out of places to fall back to. You're running out of weapons and supplies and energon. You're doing well in your battles now, but your successes will end. This is a war of attrition, you do realize that, right? You, us, the Decepticons…we're about at the end of our ropes. We've got a few more years at most. The enemy? They suffered and starved for fifteen million years before coming out and kicking the shit out of us. Adversity doesn't make them weaker, it only makes them more vicious. Your opinion that Megatron is going to betray us? It's legitimate, nobody doubts that. But an equal case can be made that he's on the level, that he genuinely does need us, that he really can't be in a position to hurt us without crippling himself. I don't trust him, I'll never trust him. Megatron cost me almost everything…almost. What's left, all that's left of what I consider good and worthwhile? The sliver of what's left of all I once loved; only this alliance with Megatron can save that. I despise him, but this plan of his, it's our final hope."

"It's a false hope." Orion stated sadly.

"No single weapon is so formidable that it can overwhelm a vastly superior army." Delta Magnus grumbled. "I know you've read 'Mobile Warfare: Art and Science', Strika's quintessential work. That sentiment, that there is no war-ender, is expressed repeatedly, you're as aware of that as I am. But I believe Megatron may have something to enable our combined army, which is inferior, but not vastly inferior to Violen Jiger's, to overwhelm the sparkeaters. Ultimately, you take out the leadership and that army is reduced to mindless predators that we can hunt, trap or utilize any number of other methods to eradicate. We only need to catch Jiger unawares or overconfident and use whatever Megatron has to kill him. The cybervores that survive will fall apart and return to being the animals they really are."

"I want what you say to be right. I really do." Orion replied regretfully. "But I know Megatron to be capable of great duplicity, and every instinct I have is screaming that this is a trap. Express your reservations to Megatron. Considering his history with us, it's a very reasonable request to meet him in route, at a neutral location. If the alliance he proposes is on the level, he'll understand your concerns and accept your request. If he balks at meeting somewhere else, then you know…"

"It's not a trap! Merging forces on the way would be too chaotic, and greatly add to the likelihood of our advance being discovered!" Delta Magnus, at the end of his patience, snapped. "And even if it were a trap, he'd pay a tremendous price! We've been over this! He's not an idiot, he would not decimate his own forces for the chance to maybe eliminate a future enemy that's a current ally, while a vastly superior current common enemy exists! Use that brain everyone claims you have!"

Orion stared at Delta Magnus for a moment before standing. "I've made my position clear. I suggest you think long and hard about putting yourself in a position that makes you and those serving you vulnerable to Megatron before you actually go through with this." Orion then stepped back and looked to Torenia, Roller and Elita. "Please do not commit yourselves to this. I may be wrong, but I genuinely do not think that I am."

"Look O, normally I wouldn't question a word you have to say, and I'm not saying you're wrong here," Roller nervously tried to explain, "but frankly, even if Megatron turns on us, I can't imagine him being able to wipe us out. Yeah, his terrain, his plan, his everything, but still, we have more soldiers than him, even without the Autobots. At the very least, we'd take some lumps but fight our way out."

"You have a spy in their midst." Elita chimed in. "And all he's seen is a battle station. Flight capable or not, battle stations really aren't much good at wrangling up retreating forces. As your brother said, there's no scenario where we can't get out of there with relative ease."

Orion stared fearfully at them for a moment but realizing that they were not going to change their minds, and that even were it possible, this would not be the place to plead with them, he merely shook his head sadly and leaned in, kissing a surprised Elita. "Be safe my love." He then cupped Roller's shoulder. "You too brother, head on a swivel, transformation cog hot and ready should you need all six wheels spinning you out of there."

"Quit being melodramatic, ya' pansy." Roller grumbled, delivering a light punch to Orion's chest.

Orion turned to Torenia just as she lunged forward and wrapped him tightly. "Our time together is always so short."

"Aye." Orion pulled her back gently and peered into her optics. "Perhaps we can remedy that. Come with me, stay with the Autobots, at least until after this Grand Convocation."

"Nay," Torenia shook her head with a sad smile, "I am of House Pax, my place is with them." She shrugged. "I plan to have some harsh words with Delta Magnus regarding some of what he said to you, but all in all I trust him to keep us safe."

Orion looked over toward Delta Magnus, who was watching with more interest than he was trying to convey. "He'd better." Orion then looked back down into Torenia's optics. "Be well mother, I shall see you again soon." They embraced one last time before Orion stepped back and looked at all in the room. "I wish you good fortune at this Grand Convocation, send word with the results, and if Megatron's weapon is all he claims it to be, we Autobots will certainly be open to adding our might to yours in an assault on the Pentiathan." With that he turned and started toward the door.

"Hey, commoners," Roller jokingly called out to Ironhide, Jazz and Prowl, "make sure Lord Convoy here stays safe."

"Always do Kid." Ironhide replied. "Not that hard when you're not around to talk him into trouble." Roller laughed nervously.

"Be well my son." Torenia sadly said before the Autobots turned to leave.

Starscream

Soundwave was detailed if nothing else. The subterranean holding facility in Kalis had been two thirds full of energon, just as the big blue bore had claimed, a supply that House Torrent had stockpiled for centuries that would now serve the Decepticon cause. Those stockpiles had been loaded into fourteen trailers hitched to fourteen Decepticons with freight hauler shell modes, all driving as fast as their pathetic ground-based forms could travel twenty thousand feet below. The four other fliers that comprised his squadron, a squadron there to offer support to the convoy should it need it, flew behind him in arrowhead formation. They were adequate aerial combatants, these Bitstream, Hotlink, Slipstream and Flarefire, they'd drilled well over the last few years, or so their performance evaluations indicated, but they weren't his usual squad. There were a few better fliers than Thundercracker and Skywarp in the Decepticon Air Corps, but for whatever reason Starscream just gelled extremely well with those two. Their upper-mediocrity seemed to accentuate his aerial supremacy quite flatteringly, while still providing a degree of competence that allowed them to mop up whatever got past Starscream. But Megatron needed those two back home in preparation for the Grand Convocation. Starscream was to be present for the big event as well, but such a tremendously large shipment of energon, one needed for the upcoming campaign against the sparkeaters, required someone of Starscream's caliber to oversee the acquisition and transport of. Fortunately, he had plenty of time to get back to the southern plains of Vos prior to the arrival of their tentative allies.

Despite their frosty, uncomfortable relationship, Megatron recognized Starscream's value, or at least that Starscream had more value than most. Megatron would have to be blind not to recognize Starscream's aerial supremacy, and he even seemed to acknowledge that Starscream was clever, but like with most, the Decepticon Commander failed to fully realize all that Starscream had to offer; if he had made that realization, he'd either have relinquished Command to the superior Starscream, or kill him to get his better out of the way. But Megatron was as ignorant to greatness as the masses seemed to be. Only Pathos Nexus realized how incredible Starscream was. How sleek, and beautiful, and brilliant, and graceful, and magnificent. The former head of House Nexus had told Starscream these things repeatedly. Initially Starscream cherished the recognition and compliments, especially as Pathos's admiration led to a bid to join the royal house of Nexus. But soon the compliments came with gentle touching, then more eager touching. Pathos knew the extent of Starscream's magnificence, but eventually he only seemed interested in the common-born Nexus's beauty. His attentions were gaining insistence as the years passed, to the point where in his frustration, Pathos was beginning to get forceful. Physically, Starscream could batter the Emir of Altihex away as if he were nothing, but that would jeopardize his standing in the house. This was about the time Megatron revealed his Grand Deception plans, and it was one of the reasons Starscream didn't hesitate at all when agreeing to take part in the Deception and join what would one day be called the Decepticons. When the time came to reveal themselves to the rest of the world, Starscream had reveled in killing Pathos, but now…now he missed having someone who recognized his unique specialness.

Starscream had been lost in these thoughts for the last few hours and was only now realizing that they were more than halfway home, having covered the distance through southern Praxus into Altihex quickly, and then skimming the border of Altihex and Praxus for several hours before skimming the border of Altihex and Nyon for roughly that same amount of time. Not that borders meant anything in this post-sparkeater world, or even just prior to that in the post-Decepticon uprising world. Regional governments, at least the emirates ruled by the royal houses, were a thing of the past, the borders as Starscream knew them were equally obsolete. But Starscream, adopted son of House Nexus, would always feel most comfortable within the realm of Altihex, and would soon be in, or at least in the outskirts of, his home town of Vos. Well, soon was a relative term, he still had about eight hours to go thanks to those pathetic ground jockeys down below.

"Hey Screamer, we've got some movement coming our way from the north." The voice of the convoy lead, Jackknife, came through the communications channel. "Mostly ground vehicles, but there's a few fliers, they're just clinging to the ground which is why I'm guessing you didn't see them."

"On our way now, just sit tight and wait to be rescued." Starscream boasted as he turned downward with his squadron following suit.

"Up yours, flyboy." Jackknife grumbled back at the suggestion of he and his team's helplessness. "I'll happily trade places with you. We eviscerate these eaters and smash their bitch mutants, and you and your wing-wearers lug these trailers all the way home."

"Ah, got visual on them now." Starscream replied mirthfully. "Yup, three fliers, so despite all your tough talk, you boys wouldn't stand a chance. Fliers always trump rollers."

"Then by all means, kick Megatron's ground-based ass." Jackknife snapped back. "Oh yeah, his latest upgrade enables him to fly."

"In robot mode!" Starscream snapped back defensively. "He still transforms into a tank, and in bot mode he can't keep up or maneuver with a jet! And ultimately, his upgrade to flight capability just proves my point!"

"Shaddup Lady Nexus, aren't you supposed to be engaging the enemy?" Jackknife chuckled back.

Starscream quelled the verbal retaliation he was contemplating and silently chided himself for taking the bait. He had possessed the upper hand, a truly minor feat against a basic tool like Jackknife, but then Megatron had been brought up and all composure had been lost. It irked him that he was subordinate to Megatron, and it irked him even more that others were starting to recognize his sensitivity to the matter. For now, Starscream would have to put the matter out of his mind, as he and his squad bore down on the approaching force.

As reported, there were some fliers in the group, three to be exact, but it was the large, dark gray one that drew Starscream's attention. "Shit, Bloodron."

"We're doomed!" The orange Flarefire gasped like the coward he was.

"Shut up, craven!" Starscream snarled. "On the ground none of us are a match for him, but as a flier he's just mediocre. He can take more punishment than any other flier, but I can dish out enough to ground him and keep him grounded. You four handle the rest of this. We don't need to kill them, just keep them from molesting the convoy!"

"If they're sparkeaters, they'll keep repairing themselves and taking to the skies again." The femme, Slipstream, commented. "Plus, there's the ground-based forces we need to engage. I'm guessing most are mutants, but there's probably a few sparkeaters in their midst. It's a lot to take on."

"I'm sorry, is taking Bloodron on in single combat not enough for you, Lady Slipstream?" Starscream sarcastically snarled as he shot forward toward the approaching fliers and opened fire on the sleek gray Bloodron. "Just quit bitching and do your duty!"

The Decepticon fliers attacked the enemy, Starscream's direct assault on Bloodron enough to capture the Aswang's full attention and the giant craft followed the Decepticon Air Commander away from the others to engage in a one-on-one dogfight. Starscream's initial barrage had no lasting effect on the sparkeater, causing damage that was repaired in seconds and did nothing to slow Bloodron down. Starscream led him away from the others, the two zipping low over the metal landscape, weaving between buttes and through canyons, Bloodron occasionally firing shots at the light gray, red and blue fighter jet, but never really getting close. Starscream used his aerial supremacy to maneuver around Bloodron, getting behind him and land round after round of both low and medium yield ordinance, causing the sparkeater to falter and dip, but his incybertronian composition enabled the flying monster to remain airborne.

Starscream didn't seem to mind however. He was just playing with the super-warrior, as powerful as Bloodron was, they were currently in Starscream's element, and nobody could beat Starscream in the skies. The plan was to keep the sparkeaters occupied long enough for the convoy to get away, once that happened the Decepticon would target one of Bloodron's wings with some heavy ordinance, creating enough damage so that the sparkeater couldn't heal before crashing to the ground, and then he and his fliers would bug out. Simple yet effective. So, between that point and now, Starscream would just need to keep Bloodron's focus on him and find a way to enjoy himself. Success on both counts.

At this point he was just showing off. Hugging canyon walls, doing loops, twisting to dart between Bloodron's missiles, leading heat-seeking missiles and other target-locked ordinance for a ride before zipping right by sparkeater positions to have them impact Bloodron's comrades; yes, Starscream was making his magnificence known. He directed his sensor equipment toward the other Decepticon fliers and noted that they were having mixed results. Hotlink and Flarefire were smoldering wrecks on the ground, already torn open likely to have their sparks removed. The two 'Streams', Bitstream and Slipstream, were still airborne and raining fire down on the mutants and sparkeaters. The other fliers that had been there must have been mutants, because they were no longer in the air.

Seeing mutants with useful shell modes was still a rare sight. The Decepticons weren't sure whether it was to make them more useful in the war, or if it was a case of the sparkeaters rewarding some of their more useful thralls. Whatever the case, the mutants were no longer so easy to differentiate from surface Cybertronians. Their alternate modes did tend to be very utilitarian, with no room for beautification. The sparkeater forces had learned to hone the art of vehicular shell mode adaptation, to the point where Aswangs and mutants have deadly or useful vehicular modes, but they were almost always plain looking or downright ugly; at least the handful of enemy alternate modes Starscream had seen over the last few years always ranged from plain to ugly. But he didn't have time for such contemplations now, Bloodron was not his equal at aerial combat, but he was still quite good, damn near impervious, and very, very persistent. Starscream banked, allowing two missiles to zip by him as he looped down to drop a few bombs on two enemy robots that he believed to be mutants. Dropping them on sparkeaters would be a waste of bombs, but he could kill mutants.

Suddenly one of the mutants turned and targeted him with a rocket launcher that had been hidden under a cloak over his shoulder. "Shit!" Starscream banked again, an emergency reflex and not one of the prearranged movements he normally outlined for himself for any given situation. Unfortunately, this seemed to be a maneuver these sparkeaters had drilled before, because Bloodron anticipated Starscream's movement and made sure to have a missile right where Starscream's left wing would be. He both felt and heard the blast, the agony coming from his obliterated wing, and then momentary blackness, quickly followed by a fluttering of the blue sky littered with fat clouds spinning above, then blackness, then the fluttering of the metal and rock ground spinning up at him, then blackness, then nothing.

Nothing…then pain. Shell mode additions never truly felt like actual body parts, but the body's metallico did blend with the added parts over time, nerve endings did take root in the new appendages, so when something that truly has become a part of you is brutally blown to pieces, there is a great deal of pain. Pain as great as that coming from the true body parts that had been smashed upon impact with the ground. The blackness slowly faded away, and instinct kicked in. Transform. So painful. Transform. In a little bit. Transform! Starscream forced his body to make the slow, agonizing transition from obliterated jet to heavily battered robot. He lay on the ground, listening to what sounded like cries of pain coming from Slipstream. His optics gazed up at the still bright blue sky, a view he enjoyed for several minutes, long after the screaming of his femme comrade ceased. Only when a dark shadow fell upon him did he lose his focus on the azure expanse above and look toward the massive form standing over him. "Hello Starscream, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Faaa…finally?" Starscream's growl barely came out as more than a whisper. "You know of me?"

"Violen Jiger suggested that we keep an optic out for you." Bloodron knelt at Starscream's side and smiled down at him. "You seem like the type of guy who thinks he's special, who thinks he destined for better than what life has given him." Bloodron lowered his large head and whispered into the side of Starscream's head. "Rejoice, for today you discover that what you always thought is true…brother."

Cybershark

He loved the oceans of this world, the vast diversity of life below the surface, much of which was still a mystery to the less-hairy primates that claimed to have dominion over the planet, and who in time would likely destroy it. But for now, this far down, the world was untouched by man…apart from the occasional shipwreck. Unfortunately, the moral high ground Cybershark liked to have over the native intelligent life was a little less high after the discovery he had made…the repeated discoveries he'd made over the last few weeks. He continued speeding north through the increasingly chilly waters, until all light was blotted out by the ice caps above, complete blackness for endless miles, only to finally end as light embedded in the tunnel dug through the ice came into view and remained illuminated as that tunnel traversed stone as well. Cybershark built up velocity as the tunnel gradually angled upward, and he blasted out of the water and through the remaining dozen feet of hollowed-out ice before emerging through the hole in the arctic sheet. Ahead he saw the long scuttled Axalon, and slowly trudged his way toward it.

The metal floor provided its familiar clanging as he made his way to the bridge. He knew Polar Claw would be alone, the war…phew, no, not war, the cluster of mild skirmishes, at least compared to the previous Beast Wars, but still, the threat of Sky Shadow's Eukarian warriors had spread the remaining Maximals thin to say the least. At least the delusional winged nitwit recognized that it would be in everyone's best interest to keep things beneath human detection, though Cybershark was pretty much convinced that a handful of fleshbag governments knew about them. At least the talking apes knew enough to keep the knowledge of their existence away from the masses. "Hrrggrrrr." Talking apes, stupid choice of words, the insult brought a flood of memories of Primal Convoy back into his head. Cybershark never got sentimental, but he had to admit he missed the kid. A kid he would have followed into the sun should that kid have asked him to.

But for now, what was left of Maximal leadership was seated at a control panel, studying the same scan of whatever was buried in the ice that had captivated him for many years now. "Why don't you just dig it up already?" Cybershark broke the silence. "How dangerous could it be?"

Polar Claw had known he was there, but still quickly switched the image on the screen off as if he were startled. "I read your report, both of your reports." Polar Claw swiveled the chair around and peered at the lean robot with slick pieces of shark anatomy covering him. "How potent is this stuff?"

Cybershark walked over to another chair and took a seat. "If thirty-two ounces of Cybertronian Grade Seven-A energon possesses one cyber-joule of energy, and an equivalent quantity of the native Ore Twelve possesses roughly fifty percent more than that, well, this new stuff possesses roughly double…of the Ore Twelve's potency."

"Three times the potency of Grade Seven-A?" Polar Claw gasped.

"Based on my initial estimates, yep." Cybershark responded.

"Primus." Polar Claw shook his head. "And you think it's compatible with Cybertronian anatomy? Fit for ingestion?"

"I can confirm it's compatible." Cybershark replied with a hesitant grin that showed his dagger teeth. "I've ingested it."

"Illitsuitok!" Polar Claw growled in Inuit, a language Cybershark had never bothered to download from the Axalon's database. "Akritomayok!" The hulking red and white Maximal stood up and lumbered about the bridge. "How could you be so careless? Do you have any idea of what could have happened?"

"We've been ingesting Ore-Twelve for millennia!" Cybershark snapped back as he too stood. "How damaging could this cousin of it be?"

"So, no side effects?" Polar Claw cut right to it.

"Well…OK, the stuff packs a punch." Cybershark sheepishly admitted.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It was a rush." The slender Maximal explained. "And while I didn't conduct any evaluations, I was stronger, noticeably stronger, like, noticeably much stronger, and I seemed to be more durable, and my senses seemed heightened. To what degree, I can't say, but…noticeably. But I came down. Hard. Worst hangover ever, and I've been to a Petrohexian ritus reception."

"Sample?" Polar Claw asked, prompting a hatch on Cybershark's back to open to allow a palm-sized crystal to fall into the lean Maximal's waiting hand. Cybershark offered the sample to Polar Claw, who looked at it warily.

"I've found at least four deposits, three in the Atlantic, one in the south Pacific." Cybershark commented as they both scrutinized the crystal. "Not sure if these are deposits seeded by what we overlooked of the destruction of Atlantis, or something else."

"It's got to be derived from remnants of the Ferotaxis's activation." Polar Claw mused. "Damn, I was certain the last of the deep-sea deposits was destroyed by Depth Charge and X's final battle." Polar Claw sat back down and peered intently at the element. "Clearly I was wrong."

"The Predacons have already found several of the ore-twelve deposits we've catalogued." Cybershark commented. "Those're far easier to find, hopefully they'll keep Sky Shadow and his crew satisfied and complacent."

Polar Claw positioned the chunk inches in front of his optics to study it closer. "We'll test it. Hopefully we can find something about this stuff that's more deterring than a hangover. If the Predacon do find out about this stuff, this little slapping match we've been having the last several years will probably escalate into a full-fledged war, one that we won't be able to hide from the humans; probably won't be able to hide it from the other colonies either."

Cybershark nodded sadly. "There aren't enough of us to survive another Beast War."

Roller Pax

He knew how to prepare a diplomatic mission; he knew how to prepare a military campaign. One involved a relatively small group, the other involved a multitude of soldiers, the exact quantity depending on the requirements of the campaign and the resources available. This was a situation where he needed to prepare for both. The Decepticons had sent more specific details regarding the Grand Convocation, as well as pointing out the obvious answer to the obvious objection; the Unified armies outnumber the Decepticons and would be present, armed, and as on alert as their commanders required them to be. This truly was their last, best, and likely, only chance to defeat the sparkeaters; and once the Decepticons revealed whatever it was they were planning to reveal, all questions would be answered. It didn't assuage all skepticism, but it smoothed things enough for Roller and the other Unified leaders to know that this truly was their best option. Yes, there were risks, but the chance of victory in a war they otherwise wouldn't have a chance of winning was worth those risks. That was what Roller was convincing himself of as he sat in his small office, nestled in one of the abandoned buildings in the outskirts of Yuss that the forces of The Torus Heights had taken up residence in for the last year.

All the forces of The Torus Heights would be marching north toward Vos the following day, along with the rest of the Unified military might. The representatives of the former government and the high house leadership would head the line of military forces, with their back-up leadership firmly entrenched within their forces so that should the Decepticons decide to kill the leadership, there would be an immediate and organized retaliation. But Roller was confident it wouldn't come to that. And frankly, if houses like Ambus, Solus and others who'd suffered far more at the hands of the Decepticons could find it in themselves to trust Megatron, it should be far easier for him. The main obstacle to him feeling more secure about this was Orion's aversion to it. His entire life he'd lived by the principle that if Orion wouldn't do it, it shouldn't be done. But he wasn't a child anymore, and he'd long since become aware that nobody was infallible, even Orion Pax. Roller, for the first time ever, was confident that his brother was wrong.

He continued laying out the instructions on the data pad in front of him, determining what provisions were to go to what platoons, the contingency details should the Decepticons prove to be treacherous, the plans to follow should they prove to be on the level, and everything in between. He hated being emir, he was his house's best leader in times of conflict, but there were others that would be far better in times of peace; he just needed to get them to a time of peace so that he could hand over leadership to someone far more deserving and far more interested in it. He was about to outline instructions for a withdrawal from the Pentiathan should the assault fail when he heard a commotion in the next room, a room occupied by over a dozen members of House Pax and their assistants and friends. A muffled cheer and loud conversation that seemed to be involving most, if not everyone in the room. Roller stood from his chair and walked to the door, opening it to see what was causing the commotion. A broad smile spread over his face at what he saw.

Orion was clasping wrists with other members of House Pax and various security officers and other assistants, jovially greeting them and exchanging spark-felt pleasantries. With him was an older, rugged but ill-maintained robot who was hanging back, displaying a smile at the warm reception Orion was getting, but keeping a respectful distance. Orion finally looked up and met optics with Roller. "The Autobots finally kick you out?" Roller quipped. "We're kind of cramped here, but I suppose there's a broom closet somewhere around here you can crash in."

"That's most gracious of you, Emir Pax, but I'm afraid this is just an informal visit." Orion chuckled. "The Autobots haven't wised up to my incompetence just yet."

"Idiots." Roller grumbled. "What brings you back to Yuss? Couldn't get enough of Uraya's twenty-seventh most culturally significant city center?"

Orion displayed a wide grin before changing directions. "Roller of House Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights, I would like you to meet Terminus of Kaon." Orion turned to his older companion. "Terminus of Kaon, this is Roller Pax."

"A pleasure to meet you, Emir Pax." The unkempt newcomer addressed.

"The pleasure's mine, Terminus." Roller replied. "And any friend of Orion's gets to address me as Roller. You are welcome here, please make yourself at home."

"A word in private, brother?" Orion asked as he strode toward Roller, still standing in the doorway of his office.

Roller looked to Stronghold Pax. "Please keep Terminus comfortable and entertained."

"Of course, Emir Pax." Stronghold replied as Orion entered the office.

Roller turned and followed his brother into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Is this the private, and therefore more impassioned attempt to keep me from setting out for Vos tomorrow?"

"Aye." Orion replied, his back turned to Roller as he looked down upon the various data pads spread over the desk. He then turned and looked intently at his brother. "This is a bad idea. I know Megatron, he cannot be trusted."

Roller shrugged. "Do you?" He leaned against the wall. "I mean, yeah, you've had one meaningful philosophical conversation that led to a fight to the death, except you managed not to die, and you've had one or two brief verbal and physical exchanges since. That gives you some insight into how the shitbag works, but it hardly makes you an expert on the guy."

"So, you're of the opinion that he can be trusted?" Orion asked incredulously.

"Hell no." Roller immediately replied. "At least it'd be moronic to assume him to be honest all the time, but that doesn't mean that everything he has to say is a lie."

"His promises of leaving you unharmed are a lie." Orion came back. "At least…at least that's what my gut is telling me."

"Orion, I know he's fully capable of being willing to kill us all." Roller explained. "But circumstances being what they are, he won't. He can't. He needs us, and even if he didn't, battle station or not, I don't think he could accomplish it, certainly not without paying an unreasonable price."

"Yes, this is the same rationale Delta Magnus used." Orion muttered.

"Well sorry to be the one to point this out, but he's right." Roller came back. "Or is his logic faulty? Is there something I'm missing?"

"If we could rely on the intel we have regarding the Decepticons being accurate and up to date, then no, I could find no fault in his logic." Orion offered. "But we have no real insight into their capabilities. Even my spy has only the most outside view of what's going on with Decepticon High Command and the details of the Trypticon battle station. So, my fear is that yes, there's something that you, me, and everyone else not bearing a Warrior's face brand is missing."

Roller was silent for nearly a minute before finally replying. "So, based on us not knowing every aspect of the capabilities of our Decepticon allies, and yes, I realize how tentative that alliance is, based on a bit of ignorance that frankly, is natural and logical for us to have, we should dismiss the one opportunity we have at victory over the sparkeaters? The ONLY opportunity we've ever had and will ever have at beating these things?"

Orion shook his head in frustration. "Look, I'm as tempted by this possibility as anyone."

"Clearly you're not."

"I am tempted, I desperately want this to be true. Minimus Ambus's words earlier weren't lost on me." Orion answered. "But were I Megatron, and were I legitimately in possession of something that could win the war with the aid of my tentative allies, I'd arrange communication with them in a manner that did not put them at risk, I would recognize my past actions make what I have to do and say suspect, and select a meeting place and method of connecting with them that did not put them at my mercy."

"They've forwarded most of the meeting details and reasoning for doing it their way." Roller replied. "Granted, it was after the meeting earlier. Basically, the southern plains of Vos provide a starting point for the fastest, most direct route to the Pentiathan there is. As the Decepticons are already there, and as they will be providing the vanguard of the assault on the sparkeaters, a vanguard consisting of their most powerful warriors as well as this battle station you're so afraid of, it would be silly for our assemblage to be anywhere else, especially as there's an apparently narrowing window of opportunity."

"Window of opportunity?" Orion asked skeptically.

"Knowing the whereabouts of Violen Jiger is a rare thing," Roller came back "but apparently the Decepticons have verified that he's currently at Mount Kledji, but there's no telling how long that will last, so we don't have time to piss away."

"Did they share anything regarding their super weapon?" Orion asked in exasperation.

"Yes." Roller replied in a tired manner. "They claim that they've managed to kill a demon, study the corpse, and kind of reverse engineer its energy draining abilities, weaponizing it into a series of cannons mounted on Trypticon. Apparently, Shockwave was able to meld the anatomical science behind these things with some old Jhiaxus notes he'd come across a few vorns back to construct these weapons. I guess ol' Jhiaxus had an interest in sparkeater legends and spent a fair chunk of time and effort trying to bridge the myths and science."

"Mad slaggin' scientist." Orion grumbled. "A-Three always said Jhiaxus was an even worse influence on Guardian Prime than Galvatron." Orion shook his head and paced a bit. "Though provided they're telling the truth, I can see that making an effective weapon against the sparkeaters." The Autobot Commander then turned and peered intently at his brother. "As it would be effective against the Unified forces."

"True, but with fore-knowledge of it, there are defensive measures we can take." Roller replied. "Our scientists have already put together some shielding tech they're confident will be effective against this sort of assault. And unlike the sparkeaters, we have strategies we can implement."

Orion shook his head. "I just…I just can't trust Megatron."

"I don't trust Megatron either, I'm not an idiot." Roller grumbled. "But the revelation of what they have is reassuring to say the least. It's something that truly would decimate large numbers of unprepared sparkeaters clustered together in one location, but a threat we can prepare for and counter."

"Yes, sounds great…" Orion replied as he stared off distantly "…if true. But it also sounds like something someone trying to lure you into a trap would come up with."

Roller shook his head. "Then what could he possibly have?" The blue emir walked over and stood in front of his brother. "What could they be in possession of that would be so potent as to render us obsolete, remove us without putting a sizable dent in their forces, and enable them to eliminate the sparkeater threat, a force that's kicked all of our asses for the last four years?"

"I don't know what they could have," Orion replied, "but if they do have something that powerful, do you really doubt they'd hesitate to do all those things?"

Roller shook his head. "No, but option A is to trust them and die by Decepticon hands. Option B is to not trust them and die a few years from now at the hands of the sparkeaters. Option C is to trust them and possibly win the war against the sparkeaters." The blue robot shrugged. "Sorry bro, option C is really the only way to go." Roller gave his brother's shoulder a gentle shove. "Unless of course you have some brilliant plan in the works that'll give Jiger and his horde a slagging beating."

Orion looked down at the floor and shook his head. "No, we've got nothing." He raised his gaze and locked optics with Roller. "Just 'live to see another day' strategies, things that will in time prove to be insufficient. But that said, I still believe Megatron is going to betray you."

Roller nodded. "We're not in a position where we can't take that chance."

"So be it." Orion nodded. "Just be careful, take care of Torenia," the Autobot Commander then nodded toward the door, "and take Terminus with you."

Roller looked at his brother quizzically. "Terminus? Why?"

"Terminus knew Megatron before Megatron was a monster." Orion peered at the closed door. "If Megatron's plan is to act against you, and if there's anything left in him that's still decent, perhaps Terminus can find a way to tap into that."

Roller shrugged. "Can't see how it'd hurt."

"Be well brother." Orion said as he leaned in and embraced Roller.

"Lose the seriousness." Roller replied as he squeezed back. "We'll see each other again soon enough."

Alpha Trion

The vast expanse was silent, as it had been for hours. Alpha Trion sat in his size-appropriate chair in his large, comfortable cage, staring through the bars at the far wall of the subterranean chamber. He had liked Jack. He'd liked them all to varying extents, but Jack made him smile more than the rest. Jack reminded him that there was still hope in the universe, and perhaps as importantly, Jack had reminded him that being flawed was no excuse to not do what was right and necessary; to not be a hero. Jack had become a good friend. The collection of sounds coming from the elevator built into the wall behind him let him know that he had a visitor. The guards weren't due to be relieved for three more hours, so this was outside of the routine changeover, though it was still something he had been expecting. The doors opened, the sounds of footsteps clip-clopped through the chamber, and though he didn't bother turning to see who approached, the ancient Cybertronian knew who was coming. "Was it you?" He growled out to his unseen visitor.

"Was it me?" The voice came back, one with a moderate Texas accent, in an incredulous and almost angry manner. "Are you really asking if I did this?"

"You hated him." Alpha Trion spat.

"I didn't hate him!" The voice replied tersely. "I didn't like 'im, I probably do hate his little shit brother, but I didn't hate him, and even if I did hate him, even if I hated him enough to want him dead, I could never do that to Jackie!" The footsteps stopped. "No, it wasn't me…it was you."

Alpha Trion turned his head and glared in disbelief at the human standing outside his cage. "Would you care to explain that to me?"

"Oh, there was a human there, firin' good ol' human bullets." The former Vice President, now President explained. "He even got one on Jack, got Connally with the same shot too, that little commie-syphathizin' bitch. But it wasn't the lead that killed the President, it wasn't Oswald. That shot came from one of you." Lyndon Johnson sat down in a chair that had been placed outside the huge cell, a chair that had gone unused for many years as all the prior Presidents had felt comfortable sitting in the cell with their alien prisoner. "Accordin' ta two eye-witness reports, it was a giant, colorful, metal bug that dug itself out of Dealey Plaza, scored a head-shot on Jack, and burrowed back down. And as if the headshot wasn't enough, whatever it hit him with had some sort of weird poison that would have killed Jack instantly even if it had just scraped his elbow. Lab boys are trying to figure out what it is as we speak, but whoever designed it did so with the intent of killin' things far more robust than humans. Fortunately, it seems none of it spread beyond Jack's brain, unfortunately I'm going to have to explain to Jackie that she's got to bury her husband with an empty skull."

Alpha Trion was floored by the revelation, and stared off to the side silently, barely aware of President Johnson standing up and walking over to the door of the cage, nodding to the guard on duty to let him in, and walking in to stand just a few yards in front of him. The alien prisoner finally looked down at the American President but could still only stare with a confused and apologetic gaze. "When Ike mentioned this war of alien beasts to you a few years back, you played it down. You mentioned they were after alien artifacts, specifically this warship of yours, this Manifest, and outside of anything related to that, they'd leave us alone if we left them alone. After all, we don't know where you parked the goddamned thing, so bugging us wouldn't do them any good. And we believed you. We figured you knew what the hell you were talking about. And now one of your kind has assassinated the President of the United States." Johnson pointed up at the alien. "Franz Ferdinand was a nobody from nowhere and killing him started a World War! You fuckers have murdered the Commander in Chief of the most powerful military force in Earth's history! So, based on the 1914 precedent, I think it's safe to say war was declared!"

"Correction, Mr. President." Alpha Trion calmly replied. "Yours is the most powerful human military force in Earth's history. That's a distinction that you really need to keep in mind before doing anything rash."

"Without your fucking Manifest you're just a few dozen tin men running around in fur coats!" Johnson snarled, but calmed slightly. "But you're right, we can't come at you like you were the Ruskies or the Red Chinese. We need to come up with weapons designed to punch holes in metal bodies. Ways to detect alien body odor. Ways to kill off every last one of your kind and any other of you fuckers that decide to come here in the future!"

"I will not take part in any aggression against the Maximals." Alpha Trion stated firmly. "I wish to aid you, as I have for years, and will even consider providing you with concepts and designs that can utilize in the protection of your world. Frankly, if you're looking to design weapons that will have an effect on Cybertronians, you will need my assistance, and before I even consider providing that assistance, I will need assurances that only Predacons and other colonial aggressors will be your target."

"How the hell do I know that goddamned bug wasn't one of your Maximals?" Johnson snapped.

"It couldn't have been." Alpha Trion replied, though he lacked certainty. "I can't imagine one of them acting against you."

"And what about this Nightbeat?" The President immediately came back. "Could he be acting against us? Is he even one of your Maximals?"

"Nightbeat?" Alpha Trion asked, extreme confusion etched on his metal face. "I don't…look, he may or may not be a Maximal, I really only knew their commanders, and they've since…passed on. I've spoken with their current commander, and have had a face to face meeting with a couple others, but frankly, I really don't…"

"You don't know them?" Johnson spat out disbelievingly. "You're vouching for a pack of savages that have been running amok on Earth for a million years?"

"Mr. President?" A voice called out from the back of the room.

President Johnson turned to look back toward the group that had accompanied him into the vase chamber. "What is it Witwicky?"

The Marine, one Alpha Trion had come to be friendly with over the last six months, walked forward and stopped outside the cage where he was clearly visible to both the President and the alien. "Mr. President, Alpha Trion, I'm fairly confident that this Nightbeat was neither a Maximal nor a Predacon. Nor do I believe he was of one of your colony worlds, he claimed to be from Cybertron itself."

Alpha Trion's optics widened. "Direct interest from Cybertron." He turned and thought silently for several moments before continuing. "This could raise problems."

"He's also looking for the Manifest." Johnson stated. "Big surprise."

"He insisted that should we come across the Ferrotaxis, or even Jhiaxus, we could take them into our possession. We could even sift through the data in the ship's computers and eliminate anything related to the Ferrotaxis and I assume any other cyberforming tech. He claimed to just need the Manifest for a situation that's currently going on back home."

"A situation back home?" Alpha Trion asked, his right optic brow arching.

"He did not elaborate." Sergeant Witwicky replied.

"Not your problem, Alpha Trion." Johnson growled. "You're going to help us in any way we require. You claim these Maximals aren't to blame for what happened to Jack, well, maybe you're right. We won't go firing blindly, but we are going to find out what happened, and there will be hell to pay for those responsible. I'm going to be diverting a huge portion of our military budget toward measures to fight you big metal fuckers. We'll just have to half-ass it with the human threats for a while."

"Sir," Witwicky quietly addressed the President, "what of our commitment in Indochina?"

"Not that it's any of your concern, Witwicky, but we will not be abandoning our interests in Vietnam." The President snapped back. "The commie bastards aren't going away just because we have some big aliens taking shots at us. We're still going to support the MAAG program, we'll just be dialing it back a bit, devoting a much smaller budget toward it than Jack initially had in mind."

"Not my business, and I'm not truly on board with how any of the sides are choosing to handle the Southeast Asian chessboard," Alpha Trion replied, "but I've garnered enough military experience to know that gradual escalation is a terrible way to approach a conflict."

"I don't remember asking the alien for its opinion on what we're doing in Asia!" Johnson snarled. "Look here Trion, we're going to be picking your brain for ways to defend ourselves against those of you currently on this world, those of you on colonies that may come here, and from those of you on your home world now that Cybertron has taken an interest in us again. That's all the contributing you'll be doing, you got that tin man?"

The exasperated prisoner turned his head back toward the rear of the room and gazed up to the dark corner near the ceiling, where from the shadows a pair of red eyes nestled in an impossibly large rodent head looked back at him. Alpha Trion smiled at realizing his presence on the planet had not been forgotten about by his Maximal comrades. "Loud and clear, Mr. President."

Megatron

Trepan was bearing the same look of smug satisfaction that he'd had on his face for the last two months. Megatron shifted his gaze to the other robot sitting at the table across from him, the hulking purple war machine seated next to Trepan. Shockwave bore nothing but the same piercing optic he always displayed, but even had he facial features they'd likely be every bit as devoid of emotion as his existing nearly featureless face, despite his accomplishments. Megatron turned his optics back down to the data pads laying on the table in front of him, data pads he had already scrutinized earlier. "While I've never considered myself a patient person, I must say, giving the both of you the time and autonomy you needed has paid off beyond my greatest expectations. Both of you, as well as your respective teams, have done exceptional service to the Decepticons and our cause."

"I'm confident I speak for Shockwave, his team, and my team as well as myself when I say it was truly our honor and pleasure to accomplish these feats and advance our great cause." Trepan grinned, turning his head as Soundwave entered the room. "And on a personal note, might I commend Rossum's work on your latest enhancements? How did he characterize them?"

"Matrix-caliber." Megatron answered almost disinterestedly.

"That's right, based on some of Jhiaxus's notes found in his subterranean Crystal City base." Trepan added, staring at the subtle differences in Megatron's armor since the last time they had seen each other. "Technology that theoretically could replicate the leap from the pre-Matrix to post Matrix Primes, or so the data suggests."

"Only the data pertaining to Gallus Honorum was pertinent." Shockwave replied, even more disinterestedly. "Data on the prior Primes only went back as far as Prima, and neither Justicia Ambus nor Nova Onyx possessed ignis superious, at least the evaluations of their pre-Prime physical capabilities would seem to preclude their possession of them. Only Gallus Honorum had pre-Prime physical statistics comparable with Megatron, and as Jhiaxus was able to study him directly, his evaluation on Guardian Prime was useful."

"And yet, it wasn't until millions of years later that these theories were perfected and put into actual use by Rossum studying it in underground labs while hiding from sparkeaters." Trepan replied skeptically.

"I think we can assume that any chance Jhaixus had of perfecting the Matrix-caliber enhancements were squelched by Guardian Prime." Megatron replied, just as disinterested as before. Megatron turned to Soundwave, who had been waiting patiently by the door, and nodded for him to take his seat on the side of the rectangular table to Megatron's right. The Decepticon Commander then redirected his gaze to Trepan. "You have met or exceeded everything expected of you. Please go with my thanks, Trepan."

"Of course, Lord Megatron." Trepan bowed his head as he rose to his feet and made his way out of the room, allowing the door to close behind him, leaving just Megatron, Shockwave and Soundwave.

Megatron looked intently at Soundwave. "Still no word from Starscream?"

"Negative." Soundwave replied in his harmonic voice.

"There are a multitude of possibilities that would cause such a delay, even a few involving a complete lack of communication that we're experiencing now," Shockwave offered, "but while we cannot draw any conclusion, we should assume that he, his team and his cargo have been compromised."

"Mmmm," Megatron grumbled lightly, "that energon would have been most useful, but ultimately not essential. As for the likely loss of Starscream, while he was a pain in my ass and has been bolder in his undermining of me in recent years, he was still our most brilliant aerial combatant and a more than adequate Air Commander. But like with the energon, not essential." The Decepticon Commander turned back to Soundwave. "And what of the Grand Convocation?"

"The Unified Forces have confirmed their attendance and have committed their forces to the assault on the Pentiathan." The blue Communications Commander replied. "The Autobots, however, have declined to attend, but have expressed an openness to joining us en-route to Mount Kledji and adding their forces to ours."

"I assume that you explained to them that logistically, that really won't work." Megatron groaned in exasperation. "At best it will slow us down and lead to a tremendous amount of confusion and disorganization. At worst, and likely, their plan would lead to our combined assault leading to failure and our final defeat."

"I explained, Lord Megatron." Soundwave replied. "I utilized all counter-arguments we'd come up with, but the Autobots were intransigent. Their mistrust of us was insurmountable."

"Orion Pax is just too damn stubborn." Megatron grumbled.

"How do you wish to proceed, mighty Megatron?" Soundwave asked.

Megatron thought for several moments before finally answering. "We proceed as planned. Other arrangements will need to be made for the Autobots."

Rattrap

He wasn't far from the road, just a few hundred yards away, easily close enough to hear the passing cars and see the aura of their headlights. Then it finally happened. The engine sounds of an approaching car ceased as it came to a stop, the aura of its lights vanished, and there was silence coming from the dark highway, one running along Big Gunpowder Falls River. Then the sounds of large, metal feet crushing the underbrush could be heard. This was where they first met years before, or at least close to where they had first met. "Over here." Rattrap called out to the much larger form approaching through the darkness.

"If this is a trap, I will kill you before your friends take me down." Nightbeat's voice came back.

"Not a trap." The small Maximal replied.

"Why are we here?" An impatient Nightbeat grumbled.

"I figured you'd be coming this way." Rattrap answered as Nightbeat came to a stop before him and glowered down at him. "I'm sure you realize that the Predacon who killed Kennedy, I'm guessing Skurge based on what I heard, has really slagged things up for you. Any chance of an alliance with the Americans is likely caput."

"Oh, I realize that my plans got slagged all right, but whether it was a Maximal or Predacon who did the slagging is up for debate." Nightbeat growled.

Rattrap held up his hands. "Whoah, look pal, I get you're not our biggest fan, but you have to realize that we'd never murder a human just to throw up a barrier to you finding the Manifest. Especially when the humans don't have dick."

Nightbeat's optics glared angrily in the night. "You know, yeah, I do believe that you weren't responsible for the President's death, but I know a collective cheer was shared on the Axalon when it happened."

What? "Screw you, jackass!" Rattrap snarled. "A, listen to what I said, the humans had nothing in regard to where the Manifest is. B, we're not the scumbags you think we are. We may not be fans of the clothed apes, but we've gone out of our way, sacrificed many Maximal lives, to save them. One of those lives…" the angry Rattrap paused and looked down as a painful memory shot through his thoughts, "one was my best friend, asshole chopperface that he was." He then looked back up and glared angrily at Nightbeat. "You can take your accusations and shove 'em up yer tailpipe!"

"Fine, accusation of cheering withdrawn." Nightbeat grumbled. "So why are we here? You swear this isn't a trap, but you have to know that'll take more than just you to keep me from taking whatever Cyb-tech they've got stored in Aberdeen."

"I'm not here to keep you from the Manifest." Rattrap grumbled, but turned his head, almost as if he were feeling shame. "Look, for four years I've had nightmares. Nightmares about sparkeaters chasing me, catching other Maximals and tearing them apart in front of me, sometimes it's X, but often it's just scores of faceless monsters devouring my friends. They reach out to me, begging me to help, and I…I never do." Rattrap looked up at Nightbeat. "Doesn't take a genius to know what these dreams mean. Maybe…" Rattrap paused for a moment, "look, I'm not sure this is a good idea, there's a lot to be said for Polar Claw's stance, but, well, I can't just sit by and do nothing anymore."

"You're going to tell me where the Manifest is?" Nightbeat excitedly asked.

"Don't know where it is." Rattrap replied. "Only Polar Claw knows, and he ain't sayin'. But I can tell you that something happened eighteen years ago, something involving the Americans that got him all kinds of worried. He had us on alert, en-route to Florida, to do…hell, I don't know, but he wanted us in Fort Lauderdale ready for action. Well, whatever had him in a twist seemed to blow over, but only two things could have sent him into a tizzy like that, the Ferrotaxis or the Manifest. So that may be a starting point. At the very least, you should probably look into it before busting out your pal in Aberdeen."

"So, the Cyb-tech is an actual Cybertronian." Nightbeat muttered. "Probably the asset Witwicky mentioned."

"Eh, you know Sparkplug?" Rattrap chuckled. "Decent guy. Pretty low on the totem pole, but the ol' asset seems to have taken a shine ta' the kid."

Nightbeat regarded Rattrap for several moments before breaking the silence. "Alright, I'll look into this Florida thing. What was the exact date of the event that set Polar Claw off?"

"Ehhh, let's see." Rattrap thought. "By the calendar the Americans use, it'd have been December fifth, nineteen-forty-five."

Nightbeat nodded. "Alright then, but you're helping me out with this."

"I've already helped out." Rattrap pushed back.

"Do you have any idea of how hard it is for me to do research in a world of paper records and seven-foot doorways?" Nightbeat grumbled back. "You want to throw a lifeline to those being devoured by sparkeaters? You're slagging helping me. Now come on!"