Ultra Magnus
The alt mode adjustments weren't too bad, just some mild exterior work; cosmetic changes really. All in all, the process lasted only a couple dozen minutes or so, and Ultra Magnus now looked like a typical freight hauler with a small-mid size vehicle carrier attached to the cab's rear section that was in frequent use in the majority of Lanarq's industrial sectors, but slightly less common in the mining sector he was in now, Shai-Hang. His alternate mode chosen to look not out of place, but at the same time wouldn't be useful for the tasks going on around them and therefore minimal chance of the locals wanting to commandeer the vehicle. This was the first time Ultra Magnus had been off-world, it was his first time serving directly under a Prime, much less the real Matrix-bearing Prime, and he was going to make sure that every aspect of his performance was perfect. He was at his post posing as a parked freight hauler designed to accommodate smaller Lanaquans. Lanarq was a mechanical world that had evolved mechanical lifeforms, though unlike Cybertron and various other worlds bearing mechanical life, the Lanarqans were not spawned by a hyperdense energy cluster at the core of their world exuding life-giving energy, there was even a chance that they weren't powered by sparks or spark-like life sources. Whatever their origins, the baseline Lanarqan species were mechanical, non-transforming, and ranged in size from four feet to just over twenty feet in height. And according to Guardian Prime, their culture and planetary societies had come to revolve around being a critical manufacturing hub for what Prime referred to as the Quintesson Pan Galactic Co-Prosperity Sphere, a sort of economic empire led by the legendary co-inhabitants of Cybertron that had been driven from their planet after eons of enslaving the mechanical species. Until a few years ago, these creatures, along with several others like the sparkeaters and titans, were merely myths and folklore, but after the last four years Magnus had no reason to regard them as anything other than actual historical fact, especially when the likes of Guardian Prime says with absolute confidence that the five-faced monsters exist.
Magnus had been watching the comings and goings outside a vast mining complex for four hours now, with nothing appearing out of the ordinary, and no sign of any Quintesson involvement. The stripped-smooth surface of the rockface of the mining quarry hovered over them from a few miles away in the distance beyond the complex, creating a literal and figurative wall that their target, should it be here, would hopefully find himself backed against. Despite that likely advantage, Magnus was still uneasy. "Look alive people, except for those of you maintaining cover as inanimate vehicles; you guys continue looking dead." Prime's voice cut through the communicator, his attempt at humor comfortingly lame. "We're about to override the safety and security systems to show a facility-wide gaseous acid leak to prompt an evacuation. You all know what to look for and what to do. You were hand-picked because you're the best, it's time to prove it. We're go in one hundred twenty seconds. Make Cybertron proud!"
The two minutes passed both painfully slowly, and impossibly quickly, but eventually the alarms and calls for evacuation could be heard coming out from within the various structures that made up the complex. Lanarqans started streaming out, battered and worn company shuttles appeared to escort them away, others moving to the blue translucent public transport tubes leading to larger transport depots, while others unlocked and mounted their motorcycles and headed out. There seemed to be nothing unusual, leading Magnus to silently consider questioning Prime's source, until he spotted a robotic amalgamation of reptilian and humanoid moving through the otherwise nearly uniform looking Lanarqans, an odd adornment that was likely some sort of ornamental yet fully functional body armor affixed to his outer shell. "This is Ultra Magnus; I'm looking at a creature that fits your description of an Alicon perfectly."
"Is he approaching a transport? Something big enough to be a Numen-bearer?" Prime's voice came through excitedly.
"Negative." Magnus replied after studying the Alicon, who seemed to be standing its ground amid the shuffle, scrutinizing the area suspiciously. "He's checking things out, I think he knows this isn't on the level, but apart from some of the larger beat-up transports, there's nothing out here remotely Omega Supreme's size." The Alicon turned and pushed his way through the departing Lanarqans to get back into the building he had first emerged from. "He's going back inside!" Magnus activated his targeting system and managed to fire off a tracker that avoided the thick crowd and imperceptibly impacted the back of the Alicon's armored shoulder. "Tagged him!"
"Well done Magnus!" Prime replied. "Hopefully nobody will look twice at an automated nutriment vending truck entering the building in all the confusion." Prime's voice cut through. "Skitz, Mudflap, you're on! Overriding and opening dock bay doors closest to your position. Alicon spotted re-entering campus headquarters, he's been tagged, sending you tracking info now, and remember, you're professionals; act it!"
"Yeah, we know, that!" The annoying voice of Skitz came through.
Mudflap's voice wasn't far behind. "Why you gotta sling us together like this anyway? Can't we have been two smaller vending vehicles?"
"Radio silence unless it pertains to your mission!" Prime snapped, something Magnus could not blame him for. These two, Skitz and Mudflap, were a pair of the soldiers in the barrack section of the Manifest, two of nearly a thousand soldiers, and of those, two of only nineteen survivors. The vast majority of the rank and file aboard the Manifest had starved; frankly, that those nineteen as well as the entire command crew had survived was beyond a miracle, but particularly the nineteen as they had not been the recipients of the Manifests buried survival protocols. Magnus suspected that the energon deprivation that they had survived had somehow damaged their cranial circuitry, but the other members of the crew seemed to give the impression that these two were like this even prior to the launch of the Manifest. Whatever the case, Ultra Magnus was forced to question their worthiness on such an important mission.
"Got 'im!" Skitz muttered. "Leavin' out the back a da' buildin'."
"Yeah man, he's makin' his way down into the quarry!" Mudflap added. "He must not be buying that caustic acid gas stuff."
"Do you have optics on him?" Prime asked.
"Uhhhh, yeah, he's heading toward some big excavator thing." Mudflap replied.
"How's he supposed to make a getaway in that thing?" Skitz asked. "Thing must be slow as hell."
"How big?" Prime asked impatiently.
"Like, really big." Skitz replied.
"It's a mining excavator, a big excavator, even by mining excavat…"
"It's the Ignis Numen!" Prime announced.
"Obviously not the transport we're looking for!" The voice of Cyclonus interjected.
"Still needs to be captured or neutralized." Prime responded. "Landmine, Longrack, break cover and take the Alicon! Quickmix, you and Stripmine be ready to provide back-up if needed! As there's no more point in laying low, I'm opening aerial visual feed now." With that Magnus gained access to an aerial view of the Alicon running to a gigantic white and red mining excavator, or at least it appeared white and red, the aerial view coupled with the setting sun made some of the colors being transmitted on the feed difficult to identify, but there was no mistaking Landmine's orange form with his massive wedge barreling through the rocky and metal terrain with the white Longrack following behind him as quickly as he could. Before any of them could get to the excavator, including the Alicon, the giant vehicle shifted violently, then again, and then proceeded with an arduous and thrashing transformation that resulted in a massive, ninety-foot-tall behemoth resting on one massive wheel. "Engage! Keep him confined to the quarry! I'm inbound now!"
"Engage?" The voices of Mudflap, Landmine and Quickmix asked in unison, but they transformed and opened fire on the giant none the less.
Magnus pulled ahead and sped toward the open dock doors that Skitz and Mudflap entered through and sped through the facility as he monitored the feed showing the giant creature's wheel spin its massive frame over the rough quarry ground and toward the building Magnus was traveling through at that moment, Landmine, Longrack, Quickmix and miniscule Stripmine all maintaining fire on the giant, but their assault predictably had no impact on the monster. Magnus recognized the beast was coming toward him and came to a screeching halt, then sped in reverse out the front of the dock that he had entered only a moment before, just as the giant reached the back of the vast structure and mounted the roof with its colossal wheel, demolishing much of the building as it drove over and through it, taking a large bounce as it crunched the roadway and several mine workers just ahead of Ultra Magnus, who was positioning himself to follow the giant. "Numen has escaped the complex, multiple casualties, it's heading toward the open roadways!"
"Pursue and take any opportunity you get to fire on him!" Prime ordered. "Cyclonus, initiate aerial assault! Do whatever it takes to bring him down and try to funnel him into the overpasses and onto the mid-altitude bridging network! I'm powering up the vamparcs and directing shuttle to intercept course!"
Cyclonus and Magnus opened fired on the giant, Cyclonus having no difficulty flying circles around the behemoth and strafing it the entire time, but Magnus was having difficulty keep pace with the monster; despite Skitz's earlier claim, the beast was actually quite fast and was pulling away. Magnus was able to launch a pair of rockets that zipped through the air and impacted against the left optic of the giant, prompting it to veer right and up the ramp toward the bridge network Prime wanted him directed towards. "Nice shot, Magnus!" Prime called out through the communications channel. "Grindcore, be ready for intercept!"
"Champin' at the slaggin' bit, Prime!" The growly voice of Grindcore replied eagerly.
Despite not being fast enough to keep up, Magnus continued after the fleeing creature, watching in horror as it barreled through and smashed multiple Lanarqan transports, undoubtedly killing dozens and maiming even more, all the while being peppered with ordinance from Cyclonus above him, and suddenly from Grindcore in front of him in the distance. Suddenly the shuttle zipped overhead and the urban battle truck that was Guardian Prime's vehicular mode came rolling out. He fell about one hundred feet before transforming and deploying a vast parachute to slow his descent, transforming as he hit the road just behind the speeding Numen. "Cybertronians, I'm in pursuit." Prime's voice grunted through the communications channel.
The giant roared as a beam of gold light shot out from the shuttle and impacted his side, the beam suddenly turning a pinkish hue and appearing to be drawn back toward the cannon that it had emerged from, seeming to drain the strength from the creature. The pained bellows from the beast continued after the beam ceased, and he wobbled a bit and slowed significantly. Guardian Prime, traveling at over one hundred miles per hour, leapt up at the prey and transformed, grabbing a hold of an outcropping of the giant's body and climbing his way up, opening fire on the monster's head. "Pull over!"
Grindcore unloaded everything he had on the giant's wheel. "Punk ass Quint-licker!" The damage had become too great, and the beast barreled through the guardrails along the bridge and plummeted down to an alley below. He impacted heavily, destroying several storefronts as he crashed, but the damage was such that he was unable to rise, especially in his odd, non-humanoid, non-animalistic robot form.
It wasn't long before the Cybertronians were on the ground and surrounding him. "Were we able to identify this one?" Prime asked.
The voice of Tailpipe came through the channel. "Based on the intel we have; this one is designated Demolisher. Fiercely loyal, to the point of being considered a shoo-in for royal guard duty should the Quints ever feel threatened. But a bit on the simple side, limiting his use to them to pretty much just brute strength and destruction."
"So, no use to us then." Cyclonus grumbled.
"Any last words?" Prime asked ominously to the downed giant.
"You are unfit to rule your planet." The creature painfully ground out. "The best you can hope for is to be defeated and serve the masters when they return. But should you succeed in your foolish defiance, the Chaos Bringer shall rise again."
The threat piqued Magnus's interest. The intelligence this creature could provide regarding the Quintessons would be essential, as could possibly his mention of…something, something that tickled a memory of stories about their ancient myths he heard as a protoform. Whatever the case, they would need to interro…
"Not today." Prime retorted before lining his fusion rifle into a rupture in the creature's cranial armor and opening fire directly into its brain module. Chunks of inner cranial gore shot out of one of the creature's optics, spraying out on the road below, some of it ricocheting off and splattering against Ultra Magnus's feet and lower legs. Prime looked over at Magnus and smiled. "Sorry about that." The leader of Cybertron noted a look of concern over Ultra Magnus's face. "Something wrong Lord Magnus?"
"It's…it's just, do you think you should have killed him so abruptly?" Magnus stammered. "I don't mean to question you, but he was completely at our mercy."
"In the last several minutes he's killed dozens of Lanarqans!" Cyclonus snarled.
"And his loyalty to the Quints was beyond question." Prime added. "Do you really feel he deserved a fair trial?"
"Trial?" Magnus shook his head. "No, you misunderstand me, he needed to die, but his final words…don't you think they warranted a bit of interrogation? I mean, that was some pretty ominous stuff, and he appeared sincere. At the very least he probably had insight into Quintesson assets that we could have used. And Chaos Bringer?" Magnus then looked to Cyclonus. "I have no problem with us killing him, but it just seemed like a wasted opportunity."
Prime smiled as he seemed to realize Magnus had a point but shrugged it off. "Landmine just confirmed that the Alicon is in his custody." He looked around as Lanarqans started emerging from the edifices. "But we don't have jurisdiction here, so we should take him and go."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Megatron
The polished, regal-looking warlord waited for Soundwave's nod before addressing the aviaton perched on his trusted lieutenant's shoulder that was now recording everything he did and said. "Greetings Decepticons. Despite our flawless plans, tremendous efforts, and unprecedented achievements, we once again find ourselves focused on building up and preparing for conquest." Megatron leaned back in his massive throne, one built into the metal wall of a mountain that at one time had been an energon mine, but upon running dry of energon millions of years ago, had been retrofitted to make use of the volcanic vents at the base to serve as a forge, but in time that endeavor was abandoned as well due to the remoteness of the Polyhexian mountain, and had been left abandoned despite the massive efforts to tunnel and develop the mount. The Decepticon Commander displayed a smile, one of the few these days that was devoid of cruelty, before continuing his address to his followers. "I tried to take every eventuality into account, but I must admit, the emergence of the sparkeaters was a possibility I overlooked. Despite that, we persevered. We still exist, and despite what the government propaganda would have you believe, every Cybertronian still exists because of us. Make no mistake, the sparkeaters were defeated because of the damage done to them by the Decepticons! We wore them down, we wiped them out, it was our sacrifice that brought victory into reach; not the Autobots, and certainly not the absentee Prime that swooped in at the end with a warship to pick off a handful of hapless vrykrol! The war against the dead was won by the Decepticons, anyone who says otherwise is a fool or a liar!"
Megatron then stood from his throne. "We now find ourselves opposed by these highborn fools who sat out the war, sat out the danger, and the hunger, and the fear, and the sacrifice until it was over; fools who fired a few shots from sub-orbit and declared themselves heroes! And one of the few non-Decepticons who genuinely was a hero of the war, Orion Pax, has issued a challenge to me. I will begrudge Orion Pax none of the glory he earned in the war against the dead, and I openly admit that he earned that glory without question. He is competent, he is brave, he is clever; there is a reason that I consider my inability to recruit him to be the greatest of my failures. But he is beyond flawed. He claims to be a bot of the people, in service to the commoners, yet he stands perched high above at the right hand of Gallus Honorum, justifying his new position using Prime's Cybertronum Quod Aequalitas, which is nothing more than literary engex designed to appease the ignorant throngs of idiots. Either he's a fool and buys into Prime's tarpanicus shit, or he recognizes it for what it is and has set aside his ideals for a position in Prime's hierarchy." A sneer came over Megatron's face. "And Orion Pax is no fool, though he has now revealed himself to be a hypocrite; the bastard once accused me of lacking the courage of my convictions, and now he's selling the fools' gold Prime is offering to the common people for his own personal betterment. And as he did so, he had the audacity to issue a challenge to me…ME! This false mouthpiece for the people and newly bribed agent of the feudal overlords has the gall to bring up Cybertron's justice? Let that arrogant, lying shit bring his justice to me! I've beaten Orion Pax to the point of death before, I'll do it again, only this time I won't cease until I grind his spark to cold dark embers in my bare hands! Whether I go to him in our reconquest of Cybertron, or he sets out after me in his foolish liar's crusade, it makes no difference, the end result will be the bastard's death, followed by the death of Gallus Honorum, and then every other fool that stands in our way! Our Decepticon utopia will become a reality! Continue to follow me, and together we will make Cybertron, and then the entire galaxy, a glorious society of ubermech perfection! Decepticons forever!"
Megatron nodded to the perched Laserbeak, whose cessation of recording was noted by the going dark of a small red light. He then looked to Soundwave's face, just a couple of feet below and to the right of the mechanical bird. "Edit it however you see fit and transmit to the troops."
"Editing…unnecessary, Mighty Megatron." Soundwave replied. "That was without flaw."
"Fine, then distribute." Megatron answered curtly, prompting Soundwave to turn slightly in Laserbeak's direction and give a quick nod. The aviaton flew off to broadcast their leader's message before Megatron readdressed Soundwave. "What's next?"
"Starscream wishes to petition for the admission of a potential Decepticon." Soundwave replied.
Megatron sat back down on the throne with a scoff. "That's right. This should be humorous if nothing else. Send them in." Soundwave turned his head to the door and transmitted a signal to the guards posted on the other side. The doors opened and in walked Starscream with Mindwipe at his side. The two walked across the long throne room until they came to a stop twenty yards before the seated Megatron. "So, this is the infamous Mindwipe, the traitorous Warden that unleashed hell upon us all." The Decepticon Commander leaned forward and glared at the darkly colored robot. "Torturing and killing you would likely make me a more beloved hero of the Sparkeater War than Orion Pax, even in the north. And though I couldn't care less about being beloved, the emergence of Violen Jiger crippled my conquest of Cybertron. I cannot comprehend a reason for me not to obliterate you." Megatron flicked his gaze over to Starscream. "Nor can I fathom why my Air Commander would stand before me petitioning for not just mercy for you, but admission into our ranks."
"Mindwipe is a fearsome warrior, an able commander, and a capable administrator." Starscream replied. "And as for his release of to the sparkeaters, it seems that in addition to all his other gifts, Violen Jiger possessed the ability to influence susceptible minds from afar and prompted Mindwipe to do what he did."
"Then he's a weak-minded fool." Megatron grumbled. "Not much use to the Decepticons."
"Lord Megatron, there are many weak-minded fools in our ranks." Starscream retorted.
"Lord Megatron, if I may," Mindwipe humbly addressed, and waited for the Decepticon commander's nod before continuing, "my susceptibility to the sparkeater king was not due to a weakness of the mind, on the contrary, it was due to a gift, a strength of my mind, one that provides me with limited extra-sensory perception. Initially it was just for receiving non-traditional stimuli, but I believe I am now able to transmit as well."
Megatron chuckled. "If you're lying, then you chose a terrible lie to go with." The Decepticon Commander casually turned to Soundwave, standing off to the side below a bank of blank, unused computer screens. "Soundwave, put his claims to the test."
Soundwave took a step toward Mindwipe, something that Megatron guessed was more intimidating symbolism than any requirement for the use of his telepathy, and the two stared at each other silently for nearly a minute before Soundwave stepped back and looked to Megatron. "Claims are valid, he has extra sensory abilities on par with my own. I attempted to influence him, but he was able to ward me off."
"Your abilities are impressive, Soundwave," Mindwipe chimed in, "but Violen Jiger was far more powerful than you."
"Odd that he never demonstrated such abilities on the battlefield." Megatron grumbled.
"I doubt anyone other than those enthralled would be aware of it." Mindwipe countered. "Like with the ability to become a sparkeater, it was a trait present in only a very few individuals. And I can tell you from firsthand experience, being enthralled is not something one wants getting out to his fellow Cybertronians."
Megatron shrugged and displayed an indifferent smile. "Even if I believe you, I don't see why I should care."
"If you believe him," Starscream stepped in, "then you should be willing to put aside your animosity toward him and consider his membership, much less his continued survival, based solely on what he could provide the Decepticon cause."
Megatron picked up on a hint, one barely noticeable, of desperation in Starscream's voice. "Why do you care what happens to this one, Air Commander?"
Starscream re-adopted his familiar act of arrogant apathy, but Megatron could sense there was a genuine pull driving Starscream to fight for Mindwipe's cause. "He aided in my escape the moment his handlers weren't watching him, so I guess I feel some sort of mild obligation. And I wasn't exaggerating his usefulness to our cause."
Megatron studied Starscream for nearly a minute in absolute silence before standing and approaching them both, coming to a stop several steps before reaching them. "Fine. Mindwipe may join us, but know that I will be watching you both, and any sign of treachery will be met with a punishment that you both will share, one that will make you both wish Violen Jiger had swallowed your wretched sparks."
"Yes, Lord Megatron." The two stated in unison, bowing before sharing a relieved look with one another.
"Good, leave us Mindwipe, I need to have words with Starscream." Megatron commanded, prompting Mindwipe to nod, bow again, mutter some indecipherable thanks, and scamper out of the room.
"What do you ask of me, Mighty Megatron?" Starscream asked, his fear still present enough to make the flattering address seem sincere.
"I have an off-world assignment for you." Megatron explained. "A material, some offshoot of energon but significantly more potent exists on a distant planet. I want you to take a security team to accompany Ratbat's fuel acquisition team."
"Mighty Megatron!" The smooth voice called the attention of all three Decepticons toward the doorway, where the sleek black form of Ravage stood a few feet off the polished floor. "I apologize for the interruption, but there's been another lost squad with a sole survivor."
"Delta Magnus again?" Megatron growled more in annoyance than in anger. Ravage simply nodded, causing the Commander to turn and stomp back toward his throne. He stopped before it and stood silently for a moment before turning back around. "It is clearly not Delta Magnus, I killed him myself, there was no mistaking his death. But there's someone out there killing my troops in his name, and I can no longer allow that to continue. Pull the Predacons from Shockwave's experiments and order them to find this fool or fools and bring him or them back to me, alive or dead, I really don't care."
"As you command, Mighty Megatron." Ravage slunk back into the hallway.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Hot Rod
The movie had been good, like the others, a bit hastily thrown together, again, like the others, but good, nonetheless. They were good enough for Guardian Prime himself to ask Blaster to create more in the 'Slice of Life' series after viewing the first one. Four had been made, the one that he had just watched with Arcee, the star of said movie depicting life in sparkeater controlled Cybertron, the second depicting another Autobot, one who had been stationed just outside the Hydrax Plateau, and two films depicting civilians from small towns outside of Petrex and Simfur. Hot Rod had so far only watched the third to be made, the one featuring Arcee, and frankly, he had little interest in watching the others. He didn't need to know how they had survived, passed the time, fought back, or whatever else, not when the details of him doing all that was undoubtedly far more exciting and heroic. But Arcee, well, he never got tired of watching her. And as she was pretty much reared and living with legends, well, perhaps her story could compete with his on some level. Seriously, raised by Lord Commander of the Gates Kup, and in frequent contact with Orion Pax and other Autobot elite, individuals that even Hot Rod had to admit being intimidated by, well, fine, her upbringing was far cooler.
The line of thought led him to Terminus, the one bot that could be considered to have been a formative influence on him despite the old Cybertronian's best effort to avoid being a mentor. Hot Rod sometimes caught Terminus staring at him with a look that seemed to be hopeful, but then some sort of realization hit the old timer and he forced his gaze away, a sad look coming over his downward cast face. Despite the indifference and attempts to cast him away, Terminus became the closest thing Hot Rod had to family, and the memory of him being called to identify the body, one retrieved from the gory field where the Grand Convocation had taken place, always froze him to his spark. "Hey Hot Shot, what's wrong?"
Hot Rod looked up at Arcee and gave a weak smile as the two walked down the hallway leading away from the small theater that led into a mall, something that was only a small part of the expansive structure that had been an vast indoor industrial complex. It had been a major hub of Nova Cronumian business and commerce prior to the sparkeater uprising, an indication that civilization didn't end at the Iaconian city limits, though they were still close enough to be considered a suburb of the planet's most influential city. Having lived their entire lives up until a few weeks before under the slavering jaws of the sparkeaters, the concept of a mall was truly odd for both of the youngsters, even with the familiar desolation caused by it being abandoned by all but the Autobots that were now using it as an Iaconian, or rather, near-Iaconian base. The story Hot Rod had been told was that one of the storage areas had been rented out by an Autobot and had been used as a safehouse of sorts prior to the sparkeaters, but now that the whole facility was deserted, the previous owners all confirmed dead, and with the Autobots on good terms with the planetary government, the Autobots were given the entire facility to use as their own. "I truly regret telling you how much I hate when people accidentally call me by that name."
"Well clearly this isn't a case of that happening." Arcee chuckled back. "I intentionally called you that."
"That's even worse." He muttered, giving her a good-natured shove as they walked side by side.
"So, why'd you take a sudden turn toward the gloom?" Arcee pressed.
"Just thinking about Terminus again." Hot Rod replied. "It's silly, really. He didn't like me, he refused to teach me anything, at least he didn't intend to teach me anything at first and only did so later either accidentally or to keep me from screwing something up. He was gruff, unpleasant, and had no problem telling me to get the hell away from him, but ultimately, he was the closest thing I had to a mentor. I guess seeing your story, details of your upbringing, it reminded me of him, and of course of how he's gone now."
"I overheard something about Terminus." Arcee hesitantly muttered as they exited the hallway into a large common area, filled with dozens of Autobots busily moving around, most carrying equipment to be installed in whatever section the equipment was bound for, many lingering around leisurely getting used to their new Iaconian headquarters, and a few lining up at a makeshift ration line to get some energon, but none paying the pair of four year old's the least bit of attention. "Something you may not want to hear."
"That he mentored Megatron?" Hot Rod piped up, causing a look of surprise to cross Arcee's face. "Yeah, he told me about that. Shortly before the sparkeaters overran our home in Rodion, he mentioned it to me. Despite his best efforts, by that point we'd kinda grown close, and he shared that with me. I think I was growing on him or something, and this was an attempt to scare me away." Hot Rod gazed down at the floor and shook his head. "Megatron became a monster because either that's what he was to begin with, or it was a choice he made independent of anything Terminus taught him. Terminus's big revelation didn't scare me away."
"Good, I was afraid I'd tarnished some memories of someone important to you." Arcee replied, genuinely relieved, then adopted a mischievous smile and turned to face Hot Rod. "I know something that should break you out of your funk…at least for a little while. Of course, losing to me will probably make you more depressed than you are now, but at least it'll put a smile on my face."
"First of all, there's already a smile on your face. Secondly, that smile will be very short lived once it becomes clear that there's no way you're beating me at anything." Hot Rod stopped and turned squarely to her, a mischievous grin of his own in place. "Buuuutttt, I am intrigued by whatever you have in mind, so let's hear it."
"I was going to suggest a race, first one through northeast loading dock number four, pretty much as opposite end of the facility as we can get." Arcee crossed her arms. "I guess I'm still suggesting the race, but I had been planning on being a graceful winner. Now however…" Hot Rod watched her face drop down, her body collapse and condense into her sleek vehicular mode, and sportscar dart into the expansive common area, weaving around the legs, springs, tentacles and wheels of the other Autobots in robotic modes making their way through the area.
"Shit!" Hot Rod growled as he too transformed and darted after her, attempting to weave through the pedestrians as quickly and flawlessly as Arcee had, but it seemed apparent that those Autobots walking through were intentionally throwing up more obstacles for him than they had for her. Jerks. But despite what Hot Rod was certain was their best efforts, he finally maneuvered his way through the crowd and shot into the hallway on the far end, just a few seconds behind Arcee. The facility was quite vast, requiring the traversal of many winding corridors, rooms ranging widely in terms of size and shape, and several inaccessible areas also ranging widely in terms of size that they would have to go around, and that was just the mall area; once they left the mall and entered the industrial complex, the areas they were permitted to access would be far more limited. Hot Rod knew the layout of the facility quite well, having had nothing to do but explore the last few days and become familiar with the vast structure.
"I got you now, pretty girl." Hot Rod muttered to himself as he slowly cut the distance. They were exiting the 'commerce' section, or mall, and were now shooting into the industrial section, and he watched Arcee take a right down a hallway that he knew appeared to be the better route in a straight-line sense by cutting through some central storage and factory facilities, but it became clear that Arcee, impossibly, didn't realize that the Autobot brass had blocked off the majority of these areas to anyone not an Autobot officer or some other high up muckety muck, and that there'd be no way for her to cut through most of these sections in her quest to emerge on the other side of them all. Hot Rod considered zipping by down the hall past the turn, but he skidded to a stop at the fork, transformed, and leaned against the wall, ready to watch Arcee make the startling realization that her 'short-cut' would be no such thing as the room she meant to cut through would be nothing more than a locked door. Forty yards down the hall Arcee passed Perceptor, who was carrying some equipment away from the room that Arcee was heading toward, finally screeched to a halt, transformed and stood before the closed door. Hot Rod's mouth stretched into a wide smile and opened slightly to laugh at her, but a light shot out from the pad next to the door, scanned Arcee, and the double doors parted to allow her entry. "No way!" He protested, his voice causing Arcee to turn to him and give him a playful smile to rub it in before disappearing into the room and being sealed behind the doors.
"She's been an Autobot all her life." Perceptor laughed at the red and yellow youth from down the hall. "I think she has access to almost every section of this facility. I believe that they just mimicked Kup's security clearances when setting her up here."
"Damnit!" Hot Rod growled as he transformed and sped off in the direction he was already pointed toward, the only direction his minimal security access would allow him to go in this huge section of the complex. Yeah, it was bad that he'd have to take the long way, but he was fast enough so that he could catch her despite her short cut, especially if she got too cocky and decided to go easy. Hot Rod shot down corridor after corridor, zipping by Autobot after Autobot, each displaying varying degrees of annoyance at his speeding through an indoor hallway, frequently needing to bank off walls to effectively make turns at the rate of speed he was going, and hoping he could circle around to the other end of this cluster before she got out and got an insurmountable lead. At that point they would have about another three miles of hallway, or half that for Arcee if she cut through the hangar that took up the majority of the northern section of the complex, another area off limits to Hot Rod, and if Arcee did gain access to the hangar, it would eliminate any chance of Hot Rod winning this race. He needed to cut any advantage she gained through this current shortcut and somehow keep her from cutting through the hangar to have a chance at winning.
One more banking turn, one which resulted in some un-ignorable damage to the sterile white hallway wall, and something witnessed by three more Autobots hauling supplies, was needed before he turned down the final hallway of this central section and entered the northern sector, just in time to see Arcee shoot out through the door a bit over one hundred yards ahead of him. Hot Rod gunned it, determined to catch and overtake Arcee and prevent her from either entering the hangar, or following her into the area that was off limits to him. As he feared, the pink racer weaved around several pedestrians making their way through the hallways and seemed to be heading toward the closest doors leading into the hangar. Seconds later he was barreling past those same pedestrians, and like with their counterparts in the mall area, all were far less pleasant and accommodating with Hot Rod than they'd been for the passing Arcee. "Watch it, Shithead!" One bellowed as the red racer zipped by.
Hot Rod had managed to cut the distance separating the two racers to roughly forty yards before Arcee reached the solid metal double doors, transformed and impatiently presented herself to be scanned. The lights flowed over her, and the doors started sliding open as Hot Rod drew near, but as soon as she leapt through the doors started to close. Hot Rod leapt toward the wall opposite the closing door, transformed mid-air, and kicked off the wall toward the narrowing opening. Hot Rod's stretched body slipped through the doors, his feet nearly getting clipped by them slamming shut, but he barreled into the hangar past the stunned Arcee staring at him, hit the ground and rolled into five barrels stacked into a pyramid shape, knocking them down on top of him and causing one to rupture and leak some form of viscous orange material all over the red and yellow youth.
"You stupid idiot!" Arcee growled as she reached down, clamped onto Hot Rod's upper arm, and yanked him to a standing position.
Hot Rod popped up to his feet, disoriented and whirled around a bit, unsure of what to make of the slick goo covering him, before he turned to Arcee. "What, you're the one that came in here!"
"I'm allowed to come in here!" She snapped.
"Yeah, so I learned…AFTER you tossed out this race gauntlet!" Hot Rod grumbled back. "Sorry Princess Autobot, but I play to win, and if nothing else, life has taught me to overcome the lack of advantages that the other guy…or girl has."
Arcee's face twisted in exasperation, but she ultimately just shook her head and dragged him over to a chemical wash in the corner. "Just shut up and let's get you cleaned off. Then we need to restack these containers."
Hot Rod allowed himself to be pulled to the wash station a few dozen yards to the left of the door and compliantly stood under the showerhead as Arcee moved to the controls and unloaded a stream of chemical mist that broke down the oily compound covering his frame. As the metal lost its slippery coating, Hot Rod leaned back and ran his hands over his head to clear the mist and liquid and allow his optics to look out over the massive hangar, where they met an impossible sight. The ceiling was nearly a mile off the ground, but a golden structure taking up virtually the entirety of the central hangar stretched tall enough to almost be scratching it. "What the hell is that?"
Arcee turned to see what he was staring at and was equally stunned. "How did they get that in here?" Hot Rod stepped out from under the chemical wash and started to slowly walk in the direction of what he could now tell was an interstellar ship. "Hey, proto-boy!" He turned to look at Arcee, who nodded toward the downed barrels. "Clean your mess."
"You're the same age as me." Hot Rod grumbled as he walked over and restacked the drums, catching the quick acting sealant Arcee tossed at him to fix the one drum he had ruptured, then used a wall-mounted vacuum hose to clean the leaked fluid on the floor. As soon as he finished, he gave Arcee a look of feigned annoyance and genuine impatience. "Now can we go check that thing out?"
Arcee was already grinning, and cut away into a run toward the ship, calling back as she left. "Yeah!" Hot Rod shot after her and caught up just as they rounded a corner of stacked crates to see the vast ship in its entirety. The base, just like the top, was golden in color, but spread wider so that the craft was an almost half-oval shape, with a flattened profile of roughly six standard Cybertronian floors high running the entire one mile length of the ship and two-thirds mile width. "Seriously, how did they get that in here?"
"Roof opens." Hot Rod replied, his response earning him a light punch to the shoulder.
"No kidding, moron, how did they get that in here without us noticing?" Arcee shot back.
"Lot going on." Hot Rod muttered, his optics moving up and down to take in the craft. "Probably did it at night or something too." Suddenly noises could be heard from a section of the hangar on the other side of the ship, prompting Hot Rod to grab Arcee's arm and pull her toward a long gray trailer parked behind him. Hot Rod let go of her as they reached it and he climbed underneath, then peered up at Arcee with an expectant look to follow him under. "Come on!"
"You're not allowed to be here," she gave him an exasperated look, "I, however, am."
"Tarpanicus shit!" Hot Rod grumbled. "You getting in here is an oversight, one they'll correct if they see you here with that thing!" He whispered as he pointed toward the ship. Arcee's face gave a look as though she wasn't convinced, but she dropped to the ground and climbed under next to Hot Rod, just as four cars drove to the open area in front of the ship, an area about 50 yards directly in front of where Arcee and Hot Rod were hiding, and transformed into Jazz, Ratchet, Prowl and Ironhide.
They all looked up at the ship, and Ironhide mused aloud. "Big sucker, ain't she?"
"Given the crew manifest Pax gave me, way too big." Prowl added.
Jazz chuckled. "Prime had the headcount, and this is the ship he chose to give us." The sounds of other motors whirring could be heard and a small parade of cars poured into the open area, one after another until seventeen Autobots were milling around in front of the huge ship, the four officers as well as Bluestreak, who was trying to engage anyone and everyone in some sort of conversation, the green boxy Hound, the sleek arrogant snob Mirage, the red brawny Sideswipe, the shiny and perfectly maintained sociopath Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, a bot Hot Rod really didn't know much about other than the rumors of him really enjoying his engex, the friendly, brilliant but weird engineer Wheeljack, the lumpy yellow Bumblebee, the strong but not as strong as he thought he was Brawn, Cliffjumper, another little guy who liked to forget he was little, and Gears, Huffer and Windcharger, three other minibots that Hot Rod was familiar with only through reputation, and their reputations were pretty minimal. The seventeen Autobots milled around chattering, most marveling up at the massive ship before them and trying to figure out what it was and why it was there when more sounds of motors powering vehicles could be heard approaching, and a moment later the vehicular modes of Orion and Roller Pax came into view, or rather, in Roller's case his only mode now from what Hot Rod had come to understand. The other Autobots went silent.
Orion transformed and smiled at the assemblage. "Thanks for coming Autobots." He turned and gazed up at the starship. "I suppose this deserves a bit of explaining." He looked back to the assembled Autobots. "This is The Ark, it's a Vanguard Class deep space exploration and infiltration ship, one of four that were stored in The Manifest in case Guardian Prime had need of a smaller ship for his interrupted mission."
"Smaller ship?" Bluestreak asked with a chuckle.
"As big as it seems, it's a fraction of the size of the Manifest." Orion replied good-naturedly. "Guardian Prime has had a crew examine it, verify that it was in excellent shape, and gave it to us."
"Why do Autobots need a spaceship?" Bumblebee questioned.
Orion paused hesitantly and presented another smile before answering. "It is why I've asked you seventeen to meet with me now. There has been some form of mutated energon, something far more potent and almost as stable as the energon we know, that was found on the world that the Manifest was stranded on for over a million years. Guardian Prime asked me to select a team, which I have assembled here, to go this planet, evaluate the situation there with the native lifeforms, any Cybertronian life that exists there, determine the abundance of this enhanced energon and whether it's developing there or was deposited from somewhere else. And provided it's feasible…" Orion looked down for a moment lost in thought before returning his gaze to his soldiers and continuing, "and ethical, the nineteen of us will return with a supply of it and arrange for ongoing mining for Cybertron."
"Ethical?" Brawn asked.
"It's a resource from another planet, a planet with many indigenous species, including one that is well beyond the threshold to be considered sentient." Orion explained. "We cannot simply go in and take from them what they may already be using. Now, as far as we know, ours is the only species that requires energon for sustenance, and from what I understand, the Manifest or other Cybertronian interference may have been a partial cause for the creation of this enhanced energon, so once there we will need to conduct a full evaluation of the situation and proceed carefully and ethically."
"Such a Pax." Ironhide jokingly grumbled.
"So," Sideswipe chimed in, "after decades of being hunted for being outlaw trouble makers, then four years of being hunted for food, now that we are finally legally upstanding and equally valued citizens of Cybertron living in relative safety, you want us to leave the planet on a mission that may well get us killed?" He looked around at his fellow Autobots and shrugged. "Sounds fun."
"You missed that this assignment could last for many years, likely decades." Orion replied.
"Ehhh, I've got nothing better to do." Sideswipe once again replied in a cavalier manner.
"Kinda like that dude's style." Hot Rod whispered.
"Me too." Arcee whispered back. "And he's hot." Her comment earned her a glare from Hot Rod, but both quickly turned back to their silent observation.
"Regardless, it's still a large commitment, a large sacrifice, and something you are to take time and consider before you provide me with your commitment." Orion insisted. "It'll be weeks before we launch, so go home, think about it, and if you decide to go through with it, get your affairs in order." He looked them over and smiled. "Dismissed."
"You heard 'im boys, go live yer lives while ya' still have lives ta' live!" Ironhide prompted everyone to leave, and the Autobots filed out until only Orion, Ironhide and Roller were present. "Anything ya' need, Pax…" he looked down at Roller, "err, Paxes?"
Roller started chirping and beeping, prompting a nod from Orion and a look of confusion from Ironhide, who seemed to be unable to have followed what the blue vehicle had so quickly said. Orion smiled and looked down at his brother as he replied. "Yes, I know." He then looked over to Ironhide. "Thank you Ironhide, I'll be fine." Orion replied. "Will the two of you give me a moment here, there's something I need to take care of." Roller chirped a brief but happy sounding chortle. "Don't worry brother, I'll go easy. But let's keep it between us."
Roller gave what was clearly an affirmation, prompting Ironhide to apparently give up on understanding the conversation. "Ah've no idea what the two a' ya are babblin' about, but I suppose neither a' ya are too concerned by that fact. Let's go Roller."
Orion continued to smile as they started heading out toward the hangar exit but lost the smile as he turned toward where Hot Rod and Arcee were hiding and started walking toward them. "I think he knows we're here." Hot Rod whispered.
"He can't know we're here." Arcee whispered back, but the uncertainty in her voice was clear. A few seconds later Orion had come to a stop directly in front of the trailer they were hiding under, close enough so that only his legs and the his casually hanging hands were visible to them. His right hand twisted so that the palm faced them, the fingers extended, paused a moment, and then condensed up and down several times in quick succession, a clear indication that they were being instructed to emerge and get up. Arcee gave Hot Rod a shrug and look of uncertainty before sliding forward to do as the Autobot Commander was silently instructing them to do. Hot Rod hesitated as Arcee shimmied out from under the trailer, but only for a moment, and was soon following her out and standing up before the imposing Pax.
Orion peered down at them, a no nonsense look of intensity emanating from his vibrant blue optics. "I don't believe that either of you are supposed to be here." Arcee met his stare, her face faltered for a moment, and the next moment she had launched herself into Orion and was embracing him forcefully, an embrace that Orion eagerly returned. "It's good to see you Arcee."
Arcee squeezed tighter. "You died!" She nearly wept the accusation.
"No," Orion smiled fondly as he rested his cheek on the top of her head, "just got the tar beat out of me."
"I saw the other guy," Hot Rod muttered as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "he definitely got the worst of it." Orion turned and smiled at Hot Rod, something which made him even a bit more uncomfortable and prompted more nervous chatter. "Soooo, you're not expecting me to hug you, are you?"
"I'd prefer it if you didn't." Orion replied, his smile still in place as Arcee finally unwrapped her arms and stepped back. Orion gave her an appraising look. "It's great to see the two of you again, but as I said, neither of you are supposed to be here."
"I'm sorry, Orion, I challenged Hot Rod to a race across the entire complex and thought it would be funny to use my security clearance to make some short cuts." Arcee penitently related. "He dove into the hangar after me. We weren't trying to snoop, and Hot Rod's only interest in being here was to win the race. It's my fault."
Orion looked to Hot Rod for a moment, just as the youth protested. "Sir, I knew I wasn't permitted here. I'm responsible for my own actions."
Orion gave Hot Rod an evaluating once-over, before nodding and looking back to Arcee. "I'm thinking you somehow got more security access than your role here warrants, but I believe I can trust you not to abuse it again. I can, can't I?" He waited for an emphatic nod from Arcee. "Good. Also, and this is for both of you," he turned to look at Hot Rod for a moment, "what you just witnessed and heard, that is top secret. Not a peep to anyone, you understand?"
Arcee nodded, and Hot Rod stepped forward. "You can trust me, Commander Pax."
Orion stared deeply into Hot Rod's optics. "I know I can, Hot Rod." Orion then looked down at Arcee and smiled. "Why don't you finish that race. I'll give you a bit of an advantage by having a few words with your friend here." He stepped forward and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We'll catch up later, I promise."
"Go easy on him Orion." Arcee said sweetly as she glanced over at Hot Rod. "He's an idiot, but he doesn't mean any harm."
"Duly noted." Orion replied with a grin.
Arcee gave Hot Rod a smile and an optic brow arch before transforming and speeding off. Hot Rod looked up at Orion nervously. "On the off chance that it'll save me from a threatening lecture, you should know that Kup's already hinted at murdering me should I ever treat Arcee badly."
Orion chuckled. "If you treat Arcee badly, Arcee will get to you long before Kup or I have the chance to do anything." He cupped Hot Rod on the shoulder. "I know you're smart enough to know how great she is. Whatever happens in the future, if you treat her with respect, you'll have a fierce and devoted friend. But I didn't wish to speak to you about Arcee right now, I wanted to talk to you about you."
"About me, Commander?"
"Did I ever thank you for your assistance against those Decepticon assassins?" Orion asked.
"I'm pretty sure you did." Hot Rod replied as Orion guided them both to a leisurely stroll toward the Ark.
"Good. What you did was very brave, and you displayed a level of competence that exceeded what I believe to have been your training to that point." Orion continued. "And the accounts of your performance in battle at both the Grand Convocation as well as at the Pentiathan painted an exemplary picture. Hound reported that your valor and battlefield instincts at the Convocation were astounding. Though he did mention you were a bit reckless with your own safety, but not quite to the level of Sideswipe, so I guess an intervention may not be necessary at this point."
Hot Rod shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to handle the high praise and very mild criticism. "It was really nothing, Commander."
"Please, call me Orion." The Autobot leader turned to Hot Rod and smiled. "I've asked to speak to you because I see tremendous potential in you Hot Rod, as well as a deeply entrenched moral code."
"Moral code? Commander, I…" the confused youth stammered, "I'm kinda known for breaking a lot of rules."
Orion laughed. "Nobody called you perfect, lad, but you help those who need help, and you never intentionally harm those that don't deserve harm. I'm aware of your shenanigans, your overstepping boundaries set for you, but ultimately the rule-breaking you do is victimless, more a pushing of boundaries that's typical for your age. I mean, it's not like you've ever punched a sitting Prime." They both chuckled, and after another step Orion stopped and peered intently at him. "But should you choose to become an Autobot, you need to know that orders and rules aren't suggestions. You'll be expected to do as you're commanded."
Hot Rod stared deeply into Orion's optics, a bit of confusion on his face. "Comm…Orion, are you asking me to join the Autobots?"
Orion nodded. "I am. I think that in time you will prove to be an incredible asset, possibly a leader." The Autobot Commander noted the youth seem to be overwhelmed by his statement. "It's alright son, I don't need a decision now. Take your time with this."
"No sir, it's not that." Hot Rod replied, his gaze downward. "I want to be an Autobot, I have since shortly after you guys got us out of Rodion. I'd take the oath now if you wanted me to. It's just…" the youth looked up and met Orion's gaze, "to receive such praise…these words…coming from you." Hot Rod shook his head in disbelief. "You're Orion slagging Pax! I'm nobody! Just some guttersnipe."
Orion gave him a hard look. "Do you believe that?"
Hot Rod paused and rolled his head as he considered the question. "No. Fine, I guess I have a higher opinion of myself than that. But still, to hear things like this from Orion Pax…"
"I'm just a Cybertronian, nothing more." Orion stated.
"You killed Violen Jiger!" The surprised Hot Rod shot back. "You're the inspiration for the Aequalitas! Your leadership saved our species!" The young robot shook his head. "Hell, you're a Convoy raised by Paxes."
Orion stopped walking and looked down, almost sadly. After a moment he raised his gaze to Hot Rod's optics. "Tell me Hot Rod, what does that mean to you?"
"A Convoy raised by Paxes?" Hot Rod noted Orion's nod. "I…I'm not sure, guess that you're a part of two good families. That you have the genes and upbringing. It's just something that I've been hearing a lot."
"Me too." Orion stated with a sad exasperation. "I've been hearing it far too frequently for my liking. But really, what does it mean to you?"
Hot Rod nervously squirmed. "Honestly?"
"Yes, please, be frank." Orion stressed.
"Well sir, frankly, and I mean no disrespect, but that doesn't mean shit to me." Hot Rod replied. "I've heard nothing but good things about the Paxes, and the Convoys, and I respect the hell out of your accomplishments and leadership, but where you come from, who raised you, a family name, that just doesn't register with me much at all."
"Good." Orion replied, then looked off to the side as he continued to air his own inner thoughts. "Names shouldn't mean anything. The love I received, the education I received, the discipline I received, these are things that everyone should receive. There's nothing inherently special about me. I have natural assets I suppose, but that's not because I'm a Convoy raised by Paxes. Green sparks are as statistically infrequent with the highborn as they are with the lowborn. Intellectual potential is unimpacted by place of birth. It's only afterward that highborn outpace lowborn in terms of intellectual achievement and ability, and that's due entirely to education. What I received at Tyger Pax does set me apart; but it shouldn't." The Autobot Commander looked back at Hot Rod. "My end goal is to make it so that the upbringing and education I received is available to all, regardless of whatever hot spot that spawned them." Orion placed a hand on Hot Rod's shoulder. "And nothing will help me get there more than the ability to point to some guttersnipes who've achieved greatness. So Hot Rod, I'm hoping you live up to the potential that I sense in you."
Hot Rod, suddenly overwhelmed again, nodded and sputtered out nervously. "I…I'll do my best Orion."
A subtle smile came over Orion's face. "Glad to hear it son." Orion removed his hand from Hot Rod's shoulder but gave it a couple light taps. "Short chat, but unfortunately I think it's gone on long enough to make Arcee's lead insurmountable. Hopefully she doesn't gloat too badly."
"Nothing on the line but bragging rights, so, yeah, pretty sure she's going to gloat pretty heavily." Hot Rod chuckled. "But I suppose I don't really mind too much."
Orion smiled at him. "Go get her, kid."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Jhiaxus
"NO!" The savage looking prisoner snarled out loudly, his enraged voice bouncing off the walls as his wrists lurched forward, snapping taught the energo-chains binding his wrists to the wall behind him. "No, not you!"
His fellow prisoner, and even more monstrous looking robot with organic-mimicking body parts jutting out of him twisted his head back and forth between the chained robot covered in organic shark bits and the hulking oncoming light gray robot with green and red accent colors. "Who's this guy?" The question went ignored by the other prisoner, who merely maintained his heated glare at the hulking white, green and red robot with green wings jutting out of his back. "Seriously Maximal, who is this guy?"
"It appears that your friend," the newcomer peered down and read from the screen of the data pad in his hand, "Cybershark, has been told many bad things about me."
"You exist to end worlds, Jhiaxus!" Cybershark snarled, once again pulling against his energized shackles. "You could do so much good, yet…"
"SHUT UP!" Jhiaxus snapped. "My ending these backwater, primitive organic shitballs IS good! In time our species will repopulate, the decimation done by the sparkeaters will be a distant memory, and our biggest concern will be dwindling resources. This isn't anything new, overpopulation is the inevitable outcome for every intellectually advanced species. Organic, spark-forge, silicon, methane; take your pick! The moment they can twist their environment to their wills, their environment ceases to be an adequate culling agent. In some cases, the advancements wind up leading to the species' demise, and honestly, that's a very likely possibility for these humans and many of the unfortunate dumber species of Earth with them, but we just don't have the time to wait for them to pollute or obliterate themselves out of existence. Their planet will make a far better alternative Cybertron than most, especially given how its unique chemistry has produced viable and, in many cases, enhanced mutations of energon." Jhiaxus casually walked up to the chained shark-bot, stopped, and then delivered a brutal right cross that left Cybershark in a dazed, barely conscious state. "Gifts wasted on you mongrels for far too long!" The hulking mad scientist glanced over toward the predominantly red prisoner. "Your designation is Razorclaw, right?"
"Yeah, but he and I ain't friends." The intimidated and much smaller robot chained to the wall sputtered through his grotesque maw. "Just wanted to stress that fact. And I don't know squat about Earth…or Cybertron for that matter."
"Yes, yes, you are a colonist, Eukarian, I believe." Jhiaxus muttered disinterestedly as he started walking past the Predacon. "You colonials need to be brought to heel, and whatever you're doing on Earth will need to come to an end, but ultimately there's nothing punitive that we have in store for you. These Maximals from Earth, however, and undoubtedly a few of them here on Cybertron, well, they've proven themselves traitors, and will be dealt with as such. Until then, just sit tight and behave yourself. While we can't have you running around, at least until my status is sorted out, I doubt that Prime has anything ominous in store for you." The hulking mad scientist march on further into the subterranean expanse and came upon a battered Alicon shackled in the same manner as the Maximal and Predacon were. "Wake up!" He roared as he slapped the prisoner. The fearsome looking creature glared up at him, causing Jhiaxus to grin. "Good news, you'll soon have a friend with you." He cruelly gripped the creature's lower jaw and held his face in place so that their optics were locked onto one another's. "Your information had a meager payoff."
Jhiaxus chuckled as he released the prisoner's face and turned away from him, slowly pacing around in a taunting manner. "Those that think themselves enlightened often put forth the claim that torture isn't a productive tool in gathering information." The low laughter got more ominous. "They must not be doing it right, because you and I both know that's not the case." Jhiaxus turned back around to display a toothy grin at the Alicon. "Unfortunately, there are limits to what torture can provide. Mainly, all the torment in the world can't get an answer out of a subject if that subject isn't aware of something. In your case, you knew about the Numen on Lanarq, and we tortured you, and you told us of it. But you were completely unaware of the Numen on Zamojin," Jhiaxus grinned at seeing the look of confusion over the creature's face, "fortunately, your comrade that we captured on Lanarq was, and torturing him has given Guardian Prime his next objective, and hopefully something more useful than the belligerent, mind-warped Demolisher that they were forced to kill on Lanarq. And on Zamojin I have no doubt we'll find another target, and then another, until we finally come across the Ignis Deva's your masters took from this planet. It's only a matter of time before we find the Metroplex, before we find the Quintaxium, before we find the Imperexium, and any other titans they removed from this world." A noise coming from the door that Jhiaxus had arrived through caused him to pause and look back to see Galvatron marching in. "Well, if it isn't the Warden of the Southern Hemisphere."
"Well, if it isn't the psychotic maniac who's supposed to be dead." Galvatron grumbled in reply as he continued marching into the vast laboratory deep below the surface.
"I'm a sociopath who sometimes exceeds the boundaries of what others have long accepted as reasonable, but that technically doesn't make me psychotic." Jhiaxus chuckled as he walked over to an array of computers and attended to one terminal, replying with diverted attention. "Have you come back down here to badger the prisoners some more?"
"You've assured Prime and I that there's nothing more to get from this Alicon." Galvatron replied as he logged into another terminal and started accessing files. "As for the Maximal and Eukarian…"
"He identifies as a Predacon." Jhiaxus interrupted.
"And I identify as an Ignis Numen with a thirty-foot piston rod, but that doesn't make me one." Galvatron growled disinterestedly. "The Maximal was a traitor who failed to accomplish his treacherous task, and his group constitutes such an insignificant threat now that we're awake that even if he knows anything, that knowledge is pointless for us to have. As for the Eukarian, or Predacon, or whatever the ugly urchin wants to refer to itself as, releasing him was an option until you decided to reveal yourself to him. Now he's just a fuel tank that knows too much, one we need to keep filled until we decide we no longer want him around."
"Wait, what?" Razor Claw muttered in terror. "I don't care who he is, and I can keep my trap shut about his being alive if that's what you want!"
"Relax," Jhiaxus let out a deep laugh, "Lord Galvatron gets off on keeping everyone around him on edge. I've concluded that he believes that he increases his bargaining position by making everyone around him believe there's no limit to the atrocities he's willing to commit, and then making them uncertain of what his intentions or agendas are. He changes his mind frequently, makes different and sometimes contradictory demands, basically maintains a moving target just to keep everyone uncertain and on edge. It's a simple tactic, but one that's extremely effective with the mentally deficient."
"I have different tactics for dealing with sadistic, brilliant lunatics." Galvatron growled ominously, turning threateningly toward Jhiaxus.
The mad scientist, who was of equal size and bulk to the purple warlord, merely chuckled. "I may not have been born with a green spark Lord Galvatron, but science has allowed me to close so many gaps. Are you really certain the advantages you were born with still set you apart from me?"
"I'm ready to find out." Galvatron snarled but paused.
Jhiaxus noted the pause and chuckled. "Perhaps you're ready, but your hesitance would suggest that for whatever reason a brawl with me would drum up too much attention. I know you're not afraid of me, despite the fact that you should at the very least possess some uncertainty as to your success, so I think that once again you have an agenda that is the reason you're down here, one that you wish to keep secret from me, and likely from Guardian Prime as well."
Galvatron grinned. "You're welcome to that speculation, Jhiaxus, but as you said, I always enjoy keeping others confused as to what my agenda might be." The purple warlord looked around and took in all the intense stares of Jhiaxus and the prisoners, seeming to come to the decision he no longer wanted to be there and started marching back toward the door he had come in through just moments before. "Another time, Urayan."
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Delta Magnus
It was beautiful country, this region consisting of highland jungles to the southwest of Glibax. First getting to this altitude was tricky for most, and difficult to then trek through for everyone else, but for those that did make it into the rocky region covered with dense canopies of organic flora, vast visions of beauty and sightings of rare organic and technorganic fauna met the optic in every direction. Ponds and lakes of shimmering water frequently dotted the jungle, most independent, but several linked to the powerful river that snaked its way down the mountains to the valley below. In a few remote locations one could find extremely rare pools of liquid energon that leached upward through the bowels of Cybertron to create small ponds on the metal and rock surface, these mountains being one of only six regions on the planet where such energon pools formed naturally.
The massive twenty-eight foot tall and darkly colored frame of Delta Magnus pushed his way through the thick brush as he walked around one such energon pool, lowered his shoulder leaned through a wall of branches, forcing his way through dozens of yards of thick brush before coming along the banks of the massive river that fed many of the lakes and ponds of the region. The space between the jungle and the banks was too narrow, and the ground too soft and uneven, for driving to be an option, so the large robot continued on foot for a few miles before crossing the river at a narrow point, emerging on the opposite shore, and continuing on in the direction he'd been traveling. Another mile before he came to a small branch in the river, and followed that small branch for three miles before coming to a break in the jungle, a large clearing made up of grass, a mid-sized lake in the center of it, and a vast rockface on the opposite end of the clearing with a mid-sized but elaborate estate built into the mountain. Delta Magnus, various rifles and infantry cannons mounted to his scuffed and battered back, marched across the clearing to the manse. Upon reaching the front gate, he allowed himself to be scanned, and a moment later the thick gates opened for him.
The only sound throughout the long hallway was his footprints, the thuds of metal feet against rock and metal ground echoed off the metal walls. He strode through the vast structure, entering an antechamber and then into an armory, one equipped with a cryogenic regeneration chamber, a repair station he'd been using for his armor, a stock of energon rations, an array of computer terminals, and a recharging dormancy slab. Delta Magnus went straight to a workbench and laid out the weapons he had been carrying, unloading, cleaning and repairing the recently used rifles and cannons before putting them away, keeping only a sidearm magnetically kept to his upper thigh. He then marched over and sat before the central computer terminal, bringing the screen in front of him to life and populated with scrolls of data.
"Logging your kills?" A voice from the shadows cut through the silence of the moderately lit chamber, prompting Delta Magnus to draw his sidearm, twist around and point it at the voice coming from the shadows. "Aim lower." The voice stated, and a moment later the relatively tiny frame of Minimus Ambus stepped out from the shadows between two weapons' vaults and made his way to the center of the room.
Delta Magnus returned his weapon to his thigh and turned back around to the computer. "What are you doing here?" He growled in dismissive annoyance.
Minimus Ambus paced seemingly aimlessly in the center of the armory. "Despite being in the southern Tagan Heights, this estate is actually the property of House Ambus." Minimus explained. "It was part of a property exchange, gifts transferred between Houses Magnus and Ambus as a sign of their long enduring friendship and loyalty to one another. House Ambus gifted House Magnus with a large estate built behind a waterfall in the garden regions south of Damaxus. House Magnus gifted House Ambus this estate, the Jewel of the Jungle, stunningly beautiful, but very difficult to get to. So, I have every right to be here."
"Yes, but what are you doing here?" Delta Magnus repeated.
"Looking for you." Minimus replied. "You've been ambushing small groups of Decepticons for weeks now, you've amassed an impressive body count in that time. You've certainly gotten Megatron's attention by now, so finding refuge in a property owned by House Magnus probably wouldn't be safe for you. But the few people that know this place exists likely know that it's owned by House Ambus, so the Decepticons may not think to look for you here."
"That would explain why I'm here, but not why you're here." Delta Magnus grumbled as he continued working at the computer terminal.
"As I said, I was looking for you. That explains why I'm here." Minimus replied.
"True, but that begs the question as to why you're looking for me." Delta stated as he continued focusing on the screen in front of him.
"To bring you home." Minimus stated. "To bring you both home."
"You're clearly mistaken." Delta said. "I work alone."
"According to the Autobots who somehow got this intel, there are reports that there may be two of you. But I'm not referring to the Convoy phantom, which I really think is just you without the Magnus armor, I'm referring to the corpse of the armor's true owner in the cryogenic chamber below us in the subterranean vault." Minimus replied, causing Delta Magnus to freeze. "Yes, I found him."
"Go home." Delta Magnus angrily whispered.
"Come with me, brother." Minimus pleaded. "Nobody can fault you for your desire for justice, but this is not the way to go about it. Whatever you're planning, you must know that the end result is you getting killed. Especially now. The Autobots have gotten word that Megatron has dispatched a team referred to as the Predacons, apparently the best gladiatorial team to come out of Altihex, as well as the best trackers the Decepticons have."
"Go home Minimus." The armored hulk grumbled. "Razorclaw's band of mongrels don't intimidate me."
Minimus stared silently for several moments before taking on a scowl and approaching it from a different angle. "Then at least tell me why you are doing this. And why the…the…Phantom Convoy. I get the Delta Magnus charade, but I don't understand what you have in mind with the Convoy. Is that supposed to be anyone specific?"
'Delta Magnus' growled quietly and punched the wall. "Why won't you just leave?"
"I have a right to know what Dominus Ambus, Emir of the Tyrest, is doing and when he will be returning to his people!" Minimus snapped. "As well as the obligation to try and save him, regardless how futile that effort may seem."
"Dominus Ambus is beyond saving!" The hulking warrior snarled as he whipped around to face the tiny robot. "He was treacherously murdered like so many others who went to the Grand Convocation under the guise of an alliance!"
"Take off the armor!" Minimus grumbled in reply.
"Get out!" 'Magnus' roared back.
"This manse is the property of House Ambus, only the Emir of Tyrest can order me to leave!" Minimus growled back. "So, if you want me out, take off the armor and then tell me to get out."
'Magnus' glared at Minimus Ambus, but finally seemed to give in. "Host DA-019, disengage." With that the armor came apart at several seams, and a smaller, yet still large and hulking deep blue frame with silver highlights emerged. The body was slightly altered, but still recognizable to Minimus as his kinsman's body. The face however was significantly different. Confirming the reports that had come from the embedded Autobot asset, the face had features consistent with a stereotypical Convoy, the rounded helmet with points, the prominent water-drop crest, virtually everything Convoy-esque down to the face-plate that their historic leaders reportedly bore. The colors were all darker than those of Dominus, very dark, an almost black helmet and face, with silver for the inner crest design and a moderate gray face-place, all surrounding Dominus's yellow optics. "I realize I look a bit different."
"No shit." Minimus whispered but spoke louder as he continued. "But why? Why a Convoy? They were the one group that didn't lose anyone to the Decepticon betrayal."
The altered Dominus Ambus stared back from behind the face plate. "The Magnus armor, the identity of Delta Magnus, that was obvious. He serves as an effective avatar for the seeking of justice against the Decepticons, and an image that would scare the oil out of them. And…Phantom Convoy, as you call him, that was for me."
"For you?" Minimus asked, not following.
"Do you remember Baronial Ambus?" Dominus asked.
"Baronial? Yes, vaguely, he lost his fight with Cybercrosis when I was only a few years old." Minimus answered. "He was only a few millennia shy of his twelfth millionth year when he passed."
"Yes, he was old." Dominus explained. "Old enough to remember our part in the eradication of the Convoy." Dominus turned as he said that so that he would not have to see Minimus's shuddering reaction. "We fired no shots, we offered no aid to Deathsaurus, but we knew the moment his forces left the vicinity of Simfur, and House Ambus said and did nothing. Baronial sat me down, he knew his time was coming, and felt it was his right to unburden himself, and in the process to burden me with this knowledge. In public we all like to think ourselves Paxes, humble, unassuming, pretending to see others as equals, but every prominent member of House Ambus, myself included, has thought us above the rabble; a trait true of virtually all other high houses. We firmly believed in the inherent superiority of those spawned from the same material as the Knights and resented any that suggested otherwise. Commoners who dared to make claims against our superiority were easy to silence, lower noble houses that made such claims were easy to dismiss as dissention borne out of jealousy, and should they push, we need only suggest they allow the commoners of their territories to stand as their equals. None had the courage of their convictions once that was suggested, none but the Convoys. Their elevation came not from them propping themselves up, no, they were propped up by those that knew them, and that never something they were comfortable with. When they spoke of equality, we had to take it because they spoke in earnest and were willing to put their convictions to the test. They would not be influenced, bribed or threatened into silence, they made claims of equality not to lift themselves, but to lift those around us, and they never desired the trappings of leadership or nobility. They had a manse, but it was built with Convoy hands and they made it open to all. And they were just so fucking eloquent, debating them was almost always futile. So upon hearing of the troop movements in Nyon, the initial impulse of our House's leadership was to warn our neighbors and friends the Convoys, but…" Dominus looked down, "but selfish, pragmatic desires stayed our vocal processors, and we left House Convoy and their vassals to be unprepared and therefore slaughtered."
"I…" Minimus shook his head sadly, "I had always suspected, all Cybertron suspected, but it was before we were born, and I assumed no living Ambus had any insight into the truth of those dark days, and therefore none living would ever have any idea of what truly happened, and so I never felt the weight of guilt, the weight that I'm feeling now."
"I've borne this weight for two million years, Minimus." Dominus let out as a sigh. "And I took this face to remind me of this guilt, this burden. To remind me to stay the course, that while I cannot undo what was done twelve million years ago, I can see justice done for others, as well as punish and eliminate those that stand as enemy to the last living Convoy."
"Orion Pax does not want you doing this, and he especially does not want you to be doing this for his sake!" Minimus stated quietly but firmly.
"I don't care what Orion Pax wants! The only reason I devote any thought to him is his Convoy heritage, something that as far as I can tell, he shuns." Dominus snapped. "But despite this, a Convoy he is, and therefore I, as the latest Emir of Tyrest and head of House Ambus, must seek his survival for the debt owed to his ancestors. But on a personal level, I could not give less of a shit about what he says or thinks."
"Where does this animosity come from, Dominus?" A stunned Minimus questioned.
"Because he held us back!" Dominus growled from behind his gray faceplate. "Had we unified our forces, we could have intimidated the Decepticons more, we could have forced them to divulge the existence of their Titan, we could have…"
"Are you nuts?" Minimus roared the interruption. "Even with a combined government/Autobot force, we couldn't have intimidated Megatron into doing anything, and we still wouldn't have been able to make a dent against the sparkeaters! And the Autobots would have fallen into that trap with us and been unable to save our stupid asses! You must acknowledge that everything Orion Pax said was right! It hurts me to acknowledge it too, as I vocally opposed his vehement suggestion that we do not attend the Convocation, but he was right! I was wrong, you were wrong, Delta Magnus was wrong! As smart as we thought we were, we were just plain wrong! We got wiped out, and none of that was the fault of Orion Pax!"
"You've always idolized that idiot." Dominus hissed. "That sell-out upstart who's only aim has ever been to uproot our society! A whiny whelp who resented fortune for smiling on him and set out to undermine those that lifted him from the mud!"
"My idol has always been someone else." Minimus said solemnly as he stared deeply and meaningfully into Dominus's yellow optics. "I have to ask Dominus, has it ever occurred to you that his opinions and convictions simply differ from yours?" Minimus growled. "And that maybe, just maybe, his opinions happen to be right, and he's smart enough to prove it?" The seven-foot robot shook his head in disgust and started walking toward the door. "After all that facial reconstruction, you're still no different than those assholes that allowed Nyon to trek through our lands and wipe out the Convoy. You feel no guilt, you're not doing this as some form of restitution, and you're certainly not doing this for the sake of justice! This is vengeance, plain and simple, vengeance for what was done to you and your misguided, arrogant, and false messiah! I'd suggest spending more time looking at that face in the mirror," Minimus had reached the door and paused to look back at his kinsman, "but you seem to have forgotten the point of your self-mutilation…if there ever was one. Come to your senses, then come home. I will always love you my kinsman, but I can stand your presence no more today." The much smaller robot finally left, leaving Dominus Ambus to stew.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Crosshairs
"I expected Zamojin to be a shithole," the green and black robot with a silver face and optical enhancers resting on his forehead muttered, "but crikey fucks, I hadn't expected the squids ta' be so front n' center in the runnin' o things here."
"True." His predominantly blue and black comrade with the ornate head adornment replied as they both fired off rounds at the squad of rotund metal shark-like bipedal creatures charging their position. The firearms made short work of five of the seven, but two were almost upon them. The blue robot leapt up, drew a sword and sliced through both of their heads, dropping them immediately. He stood over them as his green comrade rose up from the cover they had both been behind and looked for the next part of the ongoing battle to join. "On Lanarq, the Quintessons were less obvious with their influence."
"This worthless position is secure, Drift, keep ya' glow-holes lit while I get Prime on tha' horn and find out where he wants us next." The green and black robot said as he inspected his two hand-held automatic weapons.
"Hai." Drift replied as he scoured the smoldering urban landscape around them for potential threats.
"You an' yer cocked-up lingo, mate, makes ya' sound like a bloody nutter." The green companion muttered before opening a channel to the command room of the Manifest hovering above the war-torn city that was surrounded by heavy forests. "Come in command center, this is Crosshairs, needin' to know where ya' want us next."
"We read you Crosshairs, Prime has intel suggesting that the primary target is eight miles north of your position. A base built into a mountain surrounded by dense forest." The voice came through Crosshairs's wrist as Drift fired a shot that took the head off an Alicon exiting a ruined building two hundred yards away. "Reconnoiter with Prime and his team there."
"Aye, got it." Crosshairs mumbled as he nodded to Drift to head north. "Easy-peasy shot mate, no reason ta' get cocky. Prime wants us up north to see a man about a dog." The two transformed into street racers and got out of the city in minutes, but the thick forest made for slow traveling, all on foot, though they pushed through it quickly and arrived in roughly half an hour to find Prime gathering a squad of soldiers in the tree line just outside a clearing that led to a vast cave with more than a little technology built into and around it. The two quietly made their way through the brush and trotted up to their comrades. "Hey Prime, we made it."
"Good, then here's the plan." Guardian Prime knelt as the other seven Autobots gathered around him, all notably smaller than him with the sole exception of Ultra Magnus. Crosshairs wasn't fond of the big Magnus, the naively self-righteous twat, but damn if he wasn't good to have in a scrap. "In addition to a couple dozen Sharkticons, I believe there are at least four high-ranking Alicons in there and possibly a Quint or two. Beyond those, I believe that the Numen we've been after, the transport, is in there as well and is likely being loaded up and intended to serve as their means of evacuation should they deem it necessary."
"Oh, they're deeming it necessary." Crosshairs chuckled. "We've torn the bollocks off their forces, bent them over,"
"That's enough, Crosshairs." Prime mildly scolded. "But yes, in all likelihood we'll need to be prepared for their attempt to flee, which could be any moment now." At that, a roar emerged from within the cavern and a moment later thirty Sharkticons came charging out, roughly half in bestial mode, the other half in their robotic modes. The Cybrtronians all rose and opened fire on the mindless robotic monsters, cutting down many of them. "Air support!" Prime roared into his communicator, and almost immediately a shuttle swooped down out of the sky, hovered several hundred feet above them and rained down ordinance that decimated the remaining Sharkticons.
A small high-speed escape craft zipped out of the cave and darted past the shuttle, prompting Ultra Magnus to call out his own orders. "Manifest, track that ship and launch a reserve craft to intercept. Dispatch the Leontifera if you need to, but the Paralus is to remain fixed over us!" He looked over to Prime and shrugged nervously. "Hope I didn't overstep my bounds."
"Nonsense Magnus, you're a born leader, I'll correct you if I feel it necessary, but until then do not hesitate to do what's needed." Prime replied with a reassuring smile, but then raised his wrist to his face. "Manifest, have you been able to scan the escaping ship?"
"Aye, Prime." The voice came back. "Two Quintessons, five Alicons." Prime turned to his team and silently mouthed 'five' with a look of feigned surprise. "Per Ultra Magnus's suggestion, the Leontifera has been launched and will be intercepting it in moments."
"Thank you, keep me apprised of any updates." Prime replied, then made an adjustment to his communications console on his wrist. "Paralus, have vamparc ribbon prepped and aimed down on this area, ready to fire."
"Aye, Prime, being done as we speak." A different voice, one belonging to Tailpipe, the bot piloting the Paralus shuttle, replied. "I hope you're not planning on doing anything inadvisable."
"Depends on who's giving the advice." Prime chuckled. "Just be ready up there, Tailpipe." Prime then turned to his squad. "If everything we've seen and heard since launching this assault is true, our quarry is in that cavern. I'm going to go in and flush him out. Hopefully I can reason with it, but, well, thank Primus for the vamparc."
Magnus nodded and looked to the rest. "You heard him soldiers, proceed with caut…"
"No, Magnus, you misunderstand." Prime interrupted him. "I am going in there to flush it out. You and the rest of the team are to remain out here and provide containment or back up."
"But sir," Magnus protested, "that's an ignis numen! Something potentially as powerful as Omega Supreme."
"Yes, it theoretically is." Prime replied in a good-natured manner. "And were I to back Omega Supreme into a cave, having you seven with me wouldn't change the outcome. My desire is for me to talk this guy out of there peacefully, and my odds are made worse by bring a squad of heavily armed soldiers with me."
"It makes sense, Prime, but it's still very dangerous." Magnus conceded hesitantly.
"Yeah, but that's what makes this job so fun." Prime quipped back before turning and heading for the cave, drawing his large broadsword as he did and muttering quietly. "I do wish there'd been time for Pharma to equip me with my new alternate mode though." In seconds Prime had crossed the clearing and was marching up the rocks and dirt into the cave, the scene making Crosshairs remember another reason he hated Zamojin; there just wasn't enough metal making up the planet. That seemed to be the case with most life-bearing worlds, made up of mostly rock, dirt and water. Yeah, they typically had a fair degree of ore, but it didn't seem to make up much of the landscape the way it did on Cybertron. Crosswise shrugged off the digression and focused back on his leader, who had just disappeared into the cave.
Minutes seemed like hours as they elapsed, but finally there was movement near the dark mouth of the cave, a cave with an abundance of green trees and other flora sprouting from the rocks. Prime came into view, sauntering out, but walking almost sideways, as though he was focusing on something behind him as he moved forward. True to his body language, a moment later a massive form was following him out of the cave, and seeming to confirm Ultra Magnus's concerns, this huge form was as large as the Guardian of the Gates, Omega Supreme. But unlike the humanoid form of Omega Supreme, this beast was almost draconian in a way. It was quadrupedal, but it possessed massive wings, a long tail and a long neck with a large head that almost appears to be that of an avian predator. "You've got to be kidding me." Crosshairs muttered as he kind of meandered around the other soldiers, but closest to Drift.
"Legendary warrior," Prime called out as he fully turned to face the massive creature, his sword held loosely to the side, "the powers that once ruled over us now want us extinguished. We must join forces, or else forever be their slaves. So today you stand with us," Prime squared off against the giant and continued with added emphasis, "or you stand against me." The creature let out a roar of disagreement and defiance before rearing back and stomping toward Prime, who dove and rolled out of the way of the giant paw.
Crosshairs shook his head as he started walking away in disapproval. "We'll let Prime figure this one out."
Drift followed him. "Very wise."
Crosshairs got to a rockface and clambered up and took perch about twenty feet off the ground. "There's no friggin' way I'm staying down here with them! No way, no way!" Drift followed him but remained on the ground, and they both turned to watch Prime likely get squashed. Crosshairs noticed Ultra Magnus following them with his judging and disapproving optics, but he couldn't give less of a shit about that that foppy cadet thought of him.
Magnus turned away from the disrespectful Crosshairs and Drift and looked back at their leader as cross-swipe from the creature's right paw would have cut Prime in half had he not ducked and rolled under it, immediately followed by a stomp barreling down, narrowly missing the diving Prime and sending dirt and rock spraying everywhere. Magnus raised his wrist communicator to his mouth. "Paralus, open fire with the vamparc! Incapacitate that thing!"
A shot of gold rippling light shot out and impacted the blue under-torso of the massive beast, causing it to shudder, and then a ribbon of pink energon flowed back toward the vamparc cannon, causing the monster to cry out in pain. Everyone was stunned as the monster seemed to split in two, the lower blue portion with the legs shifted into a hulking feline type of creature with two stumpy tails, and the upper bird-like portion leapt up and sprouted two powerful legs with talons. The 'lynx', as it seemed to resemble that animal more than any other cat Crosshairs could think of, fell to the ground, being the portion that was bearing the brunt of the vamparc attack.
Prime jumped upon the left front shoulder of the lynx mode and bounded off it to grab the right talon of the avian mode as it attempted to take to the sky and put distance between them. Prime climbed up the creature's body, trying to make it toward the head, clutching his broadsword the entire time and continuing his attempts at forceful reasoning as he went. "Only together can we survive!" Prime leapt up and landed a heavy left cross to the creature's long, bird-like head, the force of the blow enough to cause the head to move a bit, but no damage done. "Let me lead you!" He landed another heavy punch, but again, the impact was minimal. What wasn't minimal was the golden flow of energy-sucking ribbon slamming into the center of the bird's back, between its wings. The shot caused the beast to cry out once more and crash heavily to the ground, the flow of pink energon rippled back toward the cannon on the Paralus, rendering the bird temporarily helpless.
But as the vamparc ribbon was focused on the bird portion, the lynx rose to its feet and roared, the sound echoing through the valley. It then transformed to a massive ground transport. "Oh no." Crosshairs groaned as the massive vehicle spun its wheels, tearing through trees, rock and dirt and positioning itself to run down Prime.
"I was not expecting a giant car." Drift muttered.
"Come here!" Prime roared at the massive blue ground transport as a powerful leap carried him away from the bird portion, his call immediately followed by the vehicle doing exactly that, bearing down on him with the intent of grinding him into the rocks below. But just as it was about to impact the Cybertronian leader, Prime leapt to the side and smashed part of the front of the transport with his sword. "We're giving you freedom!" The strike had minimal impact, but at that moment the vamparc ray was directed away from the bird and back to the blue lower section, and the golden beam sent the vehicle careening to the side and toppling end over end. The pink energon was flowing out of it, causing tremendous pain, and the vehicle agonizingly transformed back to lynx mode, the beast head gasping as its lifeforce was pulled from it. Prime marched over and laid the point of his sword against the optic of the beast. "You defend my people, or die."
Several tense moments passed, and Crosshairs was sure Prime would have to drive the sword through the optic and into the brain of the beast, when, "I will submit." Optics turned to the giant bird struggling to get its talons under it.
"It pleases me to hear that, but what of him?" Prime replied, gesturing to the blue lynx next to him.
"That is me as well, so my submission applies to both." The bird replied. "Please cease your attack on my lower body, the energon loss is almost at critical levels." Prime nodded, and the flow stopped. "I thank you."
Prime pulled his sword away from the lynx and marched toward the prehistoric looking metal bird, gesturing for it to lower its head in a display of submission, which it reluctantly did. Prime climbed upon its neck and took perch at the base of the neck, giving the bird a tap to indicate he wanted it to rise to a standing position. As he rose above the trees, Prime addressed them all. "Cybertronians, we're going to prove who we are, and what our place in this universe is!"
Crosshairs had leapt down from his perch, and he and Drift were marching toward the rest of the squad. "Ah, ya' just want to die for the guy. That's leadership. Or brainwashin' or somethin'."
"No." Drift answered. "That's Guardian Prime."
Crosshairs chuckled but noted that big baby Ultra Magnus giving them a questioning look. "What now?" Slaggin' highborn baby.
"Nothing, it's just…" Magnus shook his head, "I get maybe this was necessary. Hell, it probably was necessary, though the invitation to join us could have been less…horrible,"
"Horrible?" Drift questioned.
"Threatening." Magnus muttered. "It just seems that conscripting a creature that's been a slave for at least fifteen and a half million years under threat of death, well, if necessary, so be it, but it shouldn't be celebrated. I guess…I guess I didn't find that as inspiring as you two did."
"Yer a bit of a femme, aintcha, Lord Magnus?" Crosshairs muttered as the two giant creatures approached each other in the background, linked up, and transformed to their combined transport modes. Magnus simply turned away from them and walked toward Guardian Prime and the others. "Whatta pussy." Crosshairs grumbled to Drift. "Probably gonna need ta' deal with that one in the future."
"That is very likely."
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Sparkplug
Presidents coming down to chat with the guy, yeah, of course. Military leaders looking for insight or information regarding aliens on Earth, or potential weapons or technological advances, obviously makes sense. Occasional high-ranking congressional officials, even that made sense. But Sparkplug couldn't fathom why President Johnson had told this Vereide guy about the giant metal alien in the basement, much less give him permission to sit and chat with Alpha Trion. As far as Sparkplug knew, this Abraham Vereide was just some Methodist minister from Norway by way of the Pacific northwest. Yeah, word was that the Presidential Prayer Breakfast they'd been having every February for the past decade was his doing, but still, it just didn't make sense to the Marine. Making it worse was that this guy had brought along his protégé to sit and observe. Sparkplug looked over at the tall young man seated outside Alpha Trion's transparent walled room with him and wondered what was going through the mind of this Douglas Coe.
"I'm fascinated to get the impression of Christianity from an extraterrestrial." Vereide's voice was easily heard through the vents in the glass wall.
"Christianity, like Earth's other religions, is something I have a very mild interest in, and that mild interest only exists because I'm trapped here unable to focus on more significant things." The ancient giant alien replied.
Vereide laughed. "I've heard you could be quite cantankerous."
"I'm not entirely sure why you've heard anything at all about me." Alpha Trion stated. "You have no official position within the United States government, correct?"
"No, nothing official." The human replied. "I've happened to find myself in a position to council many of the leaders of this great nation of ours, and to steer them toward more faith-based decisions and policies."
"Hmmm." Alpha Trion gave a disapproving groan.
"You're troubled by this?" Vereide baited.
"I have great respect for the first amendment of your nation's constitution, and it seems that your efforts are in part trying to subvert that." The giant alien answered emotionlessly.
"Nonsense." Vereide brushed aside the suggestion dismissively. "I too respect the first amendment, I am not pushing for a state religion, just that men of Christ act their consciences. Act with their commitment to their faiths in mind."
Alpha Trion nodded. "And should their faith conflict with the good of the nation or its multi-theistic citizenry?"
"Hard to imagine such a scenario, at least when the leader in question is Christian." Vereide replied with a smug grin.
"Not really." Alpha Trion replied. "You're claiming that the laws that were used to arrest and convict John Thomas Scopes were based on reason and evidence?"
The smile on Vereide's face disappeared. "Absolutely."
"Please provide me with the evidence to support Genesis and refute Darwinism?" Trion gave a smile that made Sparkplug give a quiet chuckle.
"Genesis IS the evidence." Vereide replied.
"And my point is made." Alpha Trion replied, looking away.
"You do not see the Bible as the word of God?" Vereide asked.
"I don't know whether it's the word of God, or if God is Elohim, Ahura Mazda, Zeus, Oden, Mahadeva, or any other deity, but I can state unequivocally that it is NOT historical fact." Alpha Trion looked back at the human seated with him. "I'm not sure what you were told, but I was on this planet one million years ago, which according to Genesis, is roughly one million years before this planet was created. And I saw the birds of the air, the fish of the sea and the beasts of the land, and even lots and lots of Adams and Eves at that time. Or at least beings that would one day give rise to your Adams and Eves."
"Blasphemy." Vereide grumbled.
"Call it what you will, but my blasphemy comes with no shortage of evidence to support it," Trion responded, "actual, measurable, quantifiable evidence. It is the baseless assumption of something being true that must be kept from government; to be kept from holding influence over the lives of a population. You speak of faith as a virtuous, good thing. And at times it has been and can yet be. But in more cases, it's been a tool for misguiding the many for the benefit of the few." A hint of a mile came over Alpha Trion's face. "Satan's successes are the greatest when he appears with the name of God on his lips."
Vereide rolled his eyes. "You're quoting Gandhi?"
"Why not?" Alpha Trion shrugged. "He's very quotable. And you should like him, he was far more Christ-like than the vast majority of your Christians."
"Why, because he focused on the poor and destitute?" The human replied dismissively. "A mistake, one made by Gandhi, and one made by Christian leaders for almost two thousand years. To really change the world our focus must be made on key men, men of resources, men of ability, men of potential, men of means."
Alpha Trion laughed. "It's unfortunate nobody passed that insight on to Jesus himself. He seemed intent on recruiting broke fishermen."
"It was on Jesus to create the church, which he did most successfully." Vereide replied. "But it fell to men to grow it, to expand it. Centuries of church leadership focusing on the poor and unfortunate did little to do that. The faith of Christ was little more than offshoot Jewish cult and would have fizzled out had someone not converted Constantine. That one conversion changed the world."
Trion shook his head. "So the avenue to spread the word of Jesus, love thy neighbor, turn the other cheek, blessed are the meek, and so on, is to focus on fortunate sons and ignore those most described by your lord and savior's teachings?"
"I fully recognize it's a difficult concept to understand."
"No, it's a very simple concept to understand." Trion interrupted. "Find well placed and influential people to recruit, and your message and agenda will get the most mileage. It just happens to run contrary to the message you claim to champion, and your…well, not your agenda, but it seems to run contrary to the agenda of Yeshua of Nazareth."
Vereide smiled. "Yes, you really are cantankerous."
"No, I'm really not. I enjoy being playfully argumentative at times, but that's not what's happening here." The alien answered. "The fact is that theocracies scare the hell out of me, and despite what you say, and what you might genuinely believe about yourself, that is what you're after. Jesus had no interest in being a kingmaker, neither should his followers."
"Well, this was not as enlightening as I'd hoped it'd be," Vereide said as he stood from his chair, "but at least I can say that I've met an alien."
"Actually, you can't." Sparkplug called out. "This visit never happened. I would have thought that President Johnson would have made that clear to you."
"Of course, of course." Vereide said as he exited the large transparent living quarters and descended the stairs where his protégé Coe was standing waiting for him. "It was just an expression. I thank you for your time Sergeant Witwicky."
Sparkplug nodded as they left the large expanse, and then turned and smiled at Alpha Trion. "You know, for a guy who actually housed an instrument for the divine in his chest and was physically changed by it, you sure are prickly toward religious types."
"I have no problem with religion," Alpha Trion smiled down at the human outside his containment quarters, "I just don't have patience for those that would push their beliefs of others, especially in a way that gets those beliefs reflected in the laws of the land." He cocked his head. "Are you religious, Sparkplug?"
"Raised Catholic, but kind of let it fall by the wayside once I got to high school." Sparkplug replied.
"Ever read your Bible?" Alpha Trion asked. "Any favorite passage?"
"Thumbed through it a little as a kid, but never actually sat and read it." The human shrugged. "Only one passage ever stood out to me, kind of let me know there was still hope for things to get better when my father died."
"Something deep and profound?"
"No, not really." Sparkplug replied. "Very simple, almost childish I suppose, but it…it gave me strength none the less." He looked up and noted Alpha Trion's expectant glance and chuckled. "Fine. John one-five."
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." Alpha Trion cited. "I always liked that one. Universal, hopeful; it applies to anyone from anywhere, of any faith, all those struggling against daunting odds."
Sparkplug nodded. "The other Cybertronian I met didn't seem overly religious either. Seemed like a cooler version of Joe Friday…in the shape of a car."
They both chuckled. "You get a name for this Joe Friday car?"
"Yeah, but it's in English so I doubt it'd register even if you know the guy." Sparkplug replied. "But he did say his name was a somewhat accurate translation. Said he was Nightbeat, that he was a commoner sparked up in…what was it…oh, Glibax Central District Hotspot Number Three. And that the blue and yellow of his car form was his natural coloration."
Alpha Trion thought deeply for a moment, and a thought appeared to come to him. "Do you call him Joe Friday because he came off as a detective?"
"Yeah, can't say why, but I definitely got that vibe." Sparkplug answered. "Why, does that narrow it down a bit for you?"
"There's a brilliant detective whose name could translate fairly well as Nightbeat." Alpha Trion explained. "Based out of Iacon, but he very well could have come from Glibax. And he was primarily blue with yellow accents. He was the one they consulted to evaluate Orion's conclusion as to who the spark collector was."
"Who? What?" Sparkplug was unable to follow.
Alpha Trion chuckled. "Orion was a student of mine." The robot took on a faraway look. "I've had many students in my time, but Orion was…well, he was my favorite. The most gifted student I've ever come across, so kind, and as gifted physically as he was mentally. Big, red and blue, handsome, with shoulders as wide as my torso is long and a waist even narrower than mine. Anyway, when he was a few weeks old he solved what had been long unsolved criminal case, one that, well, think of your Jack the Ripper case. It was like that one on a few levels."
"Was this when you were the head teacher at the northern royal house?" Sparkplug asked. "Clan Pax?"
"Yes, it was while I was at Tyger Pax. Though he wasn't born a Pax, he was a foundling that was taken in and raised as a Pax…for a short while at least." A sad look came over the alien's face.
Sparkplug noted the sadness. "I take it he passed."
The comment was met with a smile. "No, but he managed to make some powerful enemies in the short time he was on Cybertron. I was forced to smuggle him off our world, put him somewhere unpleasant but safe, and then I came here for a detour, and, here I still am." They both laughed.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Guardian Prime
"Welcome home Prime!" The stunningly beautiful Bayonette called out as Guardian Prime marched in her direction, Crosshairs and Drift on either side of him. They had returned to Cybertropolis a few hours before and were now making their way down to the bowels of the Capital Spire. Bayonette had received word that he would be heading there and was instructed to deliver all the messages he'd received while he'd been off world.
She wasn't qualified for her job, but he had been too busy with far more important things to try and find a replacement. And if he were honest with himself, he was starting to see what Sentinel had seen in her. "Thank you Bayonette. I take it my messages are in that data pad in your hand."
"Yes Prime." She replied with a dreamy grin. "It almost ran out of memory. A lot of people tried to reach you."
"Has Orion Pax provided you with a timetable for when he and his team will be launching?" Prime asked as he paused to take the data pad from her.
"Yes, Prime, they're set to launch the day after tomorrow." Bayonette answered. "He's ready to go but wanted to wait until you returned in case you had any last minute changes or instructions."
"Good. I'll contact him tomorrow. Thank you Bayonette." Prime said, his tone making it clear that she was dismissed, and even the dim Bayonette recognized she was no longer wanted there and turned to make her way out.
"Damn, she's quite a looker." Crosshairs enviously chuckled.
"All flash, no substance." Prime replied, but a sly grin spread over his face. "But who doesn't like a little flash from time to time?" The three lightly laughed as they got to a thick metal double-door and Prime allowed himself to be scanned. The doors rolled open and they walked into a reasonably well-lit expanse.
"As I was saying Prime," Crosshairs muttered, picking up the conversation they were having prior to meeting Bayonette, "I just don't think he's one of us. He just doesn't get it. To the point where he's likely gonna be a problem in the future."
"Why?" Prime looked over at the green and black soldier. "Based on what he knew, he was right to question killing Demolisher without questioning it first."
"Perhaps," Drift added, "but his reaction to your handling of the one called Sky Lynx suggests a potential for insubordination."
Prime smiled. "He is a tad soft-sparked; I suppose the rescuing of a slave just to subjugate them to another form of slavery under threat of death would appear unjust, but war will harden him."
"Princess Magnus has been at war." Crosshairs muttered.
"Against monsters that needed exterminating." Prime replied. "There's no moral conundrum with killing a sparkeater. Fighting them honed his combat skills, I think we can all agree on that, but he's still a novice at facing an enemy or asset you might be able to relate to, to sympathize with. It'll take time, but I think we'll eventually ween him off that compassionate impulse."
The three walked past the two colonial prisoners that they'd picked up on Helios Three, or Earth as the natives were calling it, past the Alicon they'd captured at a Quintesson outpost shortly after coming back online who was now clinging to life as he hung from the energized chains on the post in the floor, past the Alicon they'd picked up on Lanarq who was battered and chained in much the same manner, but in better shape than his comrade, and then past the five other Alicons, all in much better condition but shackled in the same manner, that they'd picked up from the captured escape craft on Zamojin. The three continued toward a room in the back where a gruff voice could be heard growling out taunts. "I suggest you talk, squids, because I'm like a fat ballerina, who takes scalps and slits throats, and you two ugly bastards each have five scalps and five throats for me to saw into."
The three Cybertronians entered the room to see a large, rotund olive-green robot ominously brandishing a long, jagged blade before two Quintessons confined by energy-whips. "Good ta' see ya' up and about Mutt." Crosshairs greeted his companion.
Mutt twisted his head and smiled at his comrades, thick coils on his lower face that gave a beard-like appearance rustled with the head movement. "Hell yeah, boom time! We got the gang back together."
Prime walked to the dark green robot and clapped his shoulder. "We were worried you weren't going to make it, most of the soldiers in the barracks sections of the Manifest didn't, but it's great to have you back."
"Thanks Prime, but you should've known it'd take a lot more than some low-grade chicken-shit sabotage to punch my ticket." Mutt replied.
Guardian Prime smiled and nodded, and then looked over to the two Quintesson prisoners. "Doing what you do best I see."
"Figured I'd give these sniveling squids a chance to spill their guts figuratively before we took a more literal approach." Mutt chuckled. "You got here a bit earlier than I was expecting. Haven't had a chance to really lay into these slaggers." Mutt turned away from Prime and brought his face close to one of the Quintessons. "But they'll talk. They'll beg to talk. I'm a wicked warrior robot!"
"Mutt, I am pleased you have recovered, and you are a valued comrade in arms," Drift said, "but everything you have to say is senseless."
"Aww, cut 'im some slack." Crosshairs countered. "He's just enthusiastic."
"No, he only spouts meaningless, macho gibberish." Drift shot back, earning a glare from Mutt.
"Cut the crap before I drop a grenade down your throat." The portly green helmeted soldier growled.
"Enough." Prime muttered. "I'm actually happy to be hearing your banter again, but now is not the time." Prime walked over to stand in front of the two Quintessons. "Our friends here were just about to tell us about the whereabouts of some of their mobile cities." He leaned in close to the forward face of one of the prisoners, causing a face rotation and the new face to display a look of terror. "Weren't you?"
