Red Alert

It was cleaner now than the last time he'd been dragged through these halls. Dirtier and fouler than it had been the last few months when he had walked freely through this area, but now, as two Decepticons were pulling his battered frame through here he clearly saw the fresh streaks of bodily fluids smeared across the previously pristine floor and walls. It seemed his destiny to be a prisoner housed in this citadel, though being a prisoner of the Decepticons was new and unexpected, though even with different captors the experience seemed far too reminiscent of being a prisoner of the sparkeaters. Truth be told, in the four years he was prisoner of the cybervores his contact with the monsters was relatively limited, thank Primus. The sparkeater leadership didn't want he or the other government prisoners in Cybertropolis dead, but he wasn't important enough for the vrykols to fear for their lives if they attacked him, so Bloodron had assigned a platoon of mutants to lord over them.

Though even that seeming blessing had its pitfalls. The mutants, being baseline Cybertronians and therefore a possible food source to the cybervores should they ever be considered unnecessary, set out to prove themselves and their loyalty every chance they got. That meant extreme interrogation, blunt attempts at behavior modification, and just simple torment of the prisoners. Red Alert had no useful information for them to interrogate out of him, all government assets, protocols or secrets were moved, lost to the sparkeaters, or rendered pointless within days of the war's start, and he had managed not to give in to their brutal attempts to get him to swear fealty to their demon king. But a toll had been taken. He had told his friends and colleagues that he was fine, that he'd emerged unchanged from the four-year ordeal, but he knew that wasn't true, and Rung had seen through his attempts to hide it within seconds.

Rung had assured him that it wasn't clinical paranoia, Red Alert didn't suspect those around him…those he knew fairly well anyway, to be lying or actively conspiring against him, but due to his treatment while incarcerated, he was perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the few months he'd been free and restored to his role as Cybertropolis Security Director, this ominous feeling had emerged to the point where he placed the Citadel and central sectors of the city on alert several times, all unnecessarily. It was to the point where his cries for alarm were dismissed, including one just a couple days before regarding reports of thousands of robots accompanying a battle station approaching from the south.

Red Alert and the two Decepticons dragging him to the command center finally reached the end of the hallway, and they used his face to batter the double doors open. Indignity and pain, constant companions of his over the last four years. The Decepticon guards pulled him across the floor and threw him at the feet of the hulking purple occupant of Guardian Prime's thrown, his lieutenants Scourge and Cyclonus flanking the thrown on either side. "Hello, Red Alert." There was a pause, one that hinted that a chuckle would emerge, but one never did. "It is Red Alert, isn't it?"

Red Alert raised his optics and locked them onto those of Galvatron, staring smugly down upon him. He had met him twice, once before the launch of the Manifest, and once a couple months ago, but he clearly had failed to make an impression on the Warden of the Southern Hemisphere. Or rather, based on the face of the Warrior etched on his chest, former Warden of the Southern Hemisphere. "Yes, Galvatron, my name is Red Alert."

"Tell me, Security Director, why should I allow you to live?" Galvatron asked, doing an admirable job of keeping the humor out of his voice.

"You probably shouldn't." Red Alert replied with absolute sincerity. "I have no information that isn't already available to you, I'm not going to convert to the Decepticon cause, and frankly, my continued existence is little more than a continuation of the terror I felt while captive to the sparkeaters, so there's little you can motivate me with."

Galvatron chuckled. "Oh, I've found over the course of my very long life that torture is a very motivating tool."

"To what end?" Red Alert batted back uncaringly. "Yeah, you'll break me, I cry out in pain, but what kind of Decepticon soldier do you think I'd be? What could I divulge that you don't already know? I suppose you could view it as sport, and all I've heard and researched about you would suggest that you would enjoy such sport, but would you really have time for it? Guardian Prime is going to try retaking this city. There's no way that you've secured it to any significant degree yet. And even I've overheard that Megatron and the bulk of the Decepticons have already left Nova Cronum. I think trying to maintain control within and repel exterior attacks with your skeleton crew may eat up any time you have for sport torture."

Galvatron displayed a cruel grin but nodded. "Yes, you're probably right, I will be far too busy to slowly break down a simple nobody, but I think my situation here isn't as daunting as you would make it out to be. Yes, Megatron has taken nearly all his forces from the emirate, leaving me stationed here with a small number of Decepticons, but one of those Decepticons happens to be Trypticon. So frankly, I'm not all that concerned about whatever Gallus has planned." The purple warrior waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. "But you're right, there is no point in allowing you to continue living." He looked up to one of the guards that had escorted the prisoner in and nodded. "Take him to the courtyard and obliterate his brain module. Leave the corpse where it falls."

"Yes, Lord Galvatron." The two guards replied in unison as they both reached down to grab Red Alert under his armpits.

"Lord Galvatron," a light blue aviaton called out from the corner, "Commander Megatron is on the comm, he wishes to speak with you. Would you like to take it privately?"

"Why would I bother with that, Squawktalk?" Galvatron grumbled as he opened a channel on the control panel built into the arm of the throne. "Galvatron here, what is it Megatron?"

"How is my City Commander faring today?" The voice of Megatron came through the speaker, more than loud enough for Red Alert to hear as he was being dragged to the double doors he had come in through.

"If that's the title you choose to give me, I may not be a Decepticon for much longer." Galvatron growled. "To the point, Megatron!"

"Is that how superiors were spoken to one million years ago?" Megatron answered with controlled venom. "I've contacted you to make you aware that the Manifest and another craft of smaller but still considerable size is in orbit above our planet; specifically, above Cybertropolis."

"Bah, we knew Gallus would come, just as we knew he'd be wielding the Manifest like a club." Galvatron shot back dismissively as Red Alert braced himself for his face to be battered into the quickly approaching doors. "Our club will break his."

"He has two clubs now." Megatron replied.

"It matters not!" Galvatron snapped. "He could have three Manifests up there but were they to approach this city the Titan would make short work of them all."

"Alright Galvatron, I won't question your overconfidence, merely warn you that you had better not lose Cybertropolis." The venomous voice belted back as Red Alert's face smacked the doors hard. "Megatron out!"

"Alert Trypticon to be ready!" Red Alert heard Galvatron bellow as the doors he was dragged through swung shut.

"Let's hurry up and grease this elitist twat." One guard growled to the other as they dragged Red Alert through the hall. "Wanna be done with this and shooting at Prime's sycophantic bitchforces as soon as possible."

"No slag!" The second guard replied as the elevator doors opened and they flung Red Alert into it, slamming his face against the back wall. It was finally going to happen, a real execution, no more barrels pressed to his head with feigned intent, no more requests for final words made solely to amp up his anxiety, just to be followed by an empty click and riotous laughter before being dragged back to his cell. This time, in these circumstances, they were finally going to kill him. This one was real. The lift banked as it reached the ground level, the doors parted, and Red Alert's body jerked out of the elevator and was dragged toward the front doors of the vast spire. "Just a little farther, you broken bitch." The second guard, an orange and gray brute, chuckled.

A few dozen steps carried them out into the center of the courtyard, where the two guards forcefully tossed him onto the metal ground. "On your knees!" Red Alert pressed his fingers against the metal ground, still glistening in contrast to the scorching and damage caused to a great deal of the rest of the city by the Decepticon conquest of Cybertropolis. His left hand slid toward him over the surface and found itself resting in a divot cut into the ground, the one imperfection in the area around him, one large enough to fit his palm snuggly. He was going to die, nothing he could do would be changing that fact, but to the pit with these guys, he was going to go down fighting. He used the cut in the metal ground as a brace and thrust his left leg back into the knee of one of his soon-to-be executioners, forcing the Decepticon to collapse behind him. Red Alert started to lunge toward the other would-be executioner, but the Decepticon was already reacting to the assault with one of his own, and a powerful kick to Red Alert's mid-section sent the Security Director collapsing back to the ground.

"Ballsy little shit!" The still-standing Decepticon lowered his rifle and pressed the barrel to the back of Red Alert's head. Red Alert awaited oblivion, but oblivion was delayed by thunderous blasts occurring throughout the city around them, several impacting quite close to them in the vicinity of the Capitol Spires. The standing Decepticon was tossed to the ground, and after a second of shock and confusion Red Alert recognized the opportunity to make a run for it and immediately transformed, speeding toward the outskirts of the courtyard toward the maze of roads a quarter mile ahead that cut through the vast metropolis.

A round from a hand-held rifle exploded next to him, nearly toppling his speeding form over, but he managed to remain upright and moving onward toward the roadways, now fully cognizant that his would-be executioners were on his tail and intent on finishing their task. More shots lanced out at him, but speeding along in vehicle mode, their aim just wasn't as good, especially as he was now adopting a random zig-zag pattern as he sped to the street. Yes, the zigging and zagging would slow him down a bit, but far less than getting shot would. He finally made it to the street, hopped the embankment and was tearing toward the nearest side street, but another barrage from the sky shook everything up on the ground, including he and his pursuers. He did manage to look skyward for a moment, and saw the Manifest as well as what looked to be a white flying aircraft carrier sort of thing that was a bit over half the Manifest's size, both craft unloading on the city below, but the barrage's seemed spaced, as though they were choosing their targets carefully.

Suddenly a rumbling of a different sort started shaking Cybertropolis, though this seemed to be more seismic than ordinance from above. Off to the west, tearing through several skyscrapers, the Decepticon titan Trypticon, the beast that had enabled their easy conquest of the planetary capital, lifted into the sky in its massive space cruiser mode, something that was on par in terms of size with the unknown white craft, but sleeker. "Prime and his cronies are going to die just like you, shitbag!" The dumb brutal bastards didn't even bother to learn the name of someone they were going to execute. "Trypticon will tear through the Manifest and that ridiculous looking white thing like they were made of wood!"

Red Alert didn't bother with any response, and soon cut a sharp left around the corner of a building and continued speeding ahead, knowing full well that his assigned killers were only seconds behind him. He made it two blocks down before cutting a sharp right, just avoiding another round from one of his pursuers. In robot mode he didn't possess the physical strength his frame gave the impression of having, but his alt mode, that was every bit as fast as it looked, and he was starting to pull away from the two Decepticon killers, at least he was until several blocks' worth of buildings a half mile ahead of him were suddenly obliterated by a dark form plowing through them. It was virtually impossible to make anything out, but it looked as though a portion of a dark gray or black craft rested where a huge, now-missing portion of Cybertropolis had once been. The enormous downed craft began shifting shape, but as awesome a sight as it was, Red Alert's focus was on how it had annihilated his planned escape route. He screeched to a halt and evaluated his options, of which was only one, the dark alley to his left.

He heard his pursuers barreling toward him, and noting the piles of debris and garbage strewn around and within the alley, transformed to robot mode to better make his way through it, knowing that in this mode, his speed advantage was now gone. He cut through the whirlwind of fresh dust and airborne rubble from the collapsed building and sprinted over the road to the alley, but a shot from the pursuing Decepticons glanced off of his hip just as he got to the entrance, sending him stumbling against the wall, but gritting his teeth he forced himself into the alley.

"Got him!" Red Alert shot a backward glance just before disappearing between the buildings and barely made out two humanoid forms charging toward him through the thick cloud. "You're going to die, ya' civil servant bitch!" The snarling Decepticon taunted as he and his comrade closed the distance on their prey. But just as they reached the entrance to the alleyway behind Red Alert a massive white form whipped above the towering buildings surrounding them, and a seismic crash of the impact a half mile away shook the city so hard that all three of them were thrown to the ground. Chunks of wreckage from the tops of the buildings on either side of them as well as dismembered portions of the city that had been embedded in the white object and fallen out as it was flung above them came raining down on them.

Portions of torn metal edifice pounded down on Red Alert, but he forced himself forward, finally exiting the far end of the alley just as the dark, dust-clouded environment got even darker as something immense further blotted out the mid-morning sun. The fleeing Red Alert looked up to see the bottom of a three-toed foot larger than a building as it stepped over his position in the direction of the massive white projectile that had flung above and then through the city moments before. As the massive Trypticon stepped down Red Alert continued running, turned a corner toward a large thoroughfare to see a decimated section of city, the wasteland of this metropolis had virtually everything over the fourth floor eliminated by the landing white object, which Red Alert could now see was an impossibly large humanoid robot getting to its feet. The two titans squared off across from one another, the humanoid slightly taller than the saurian Titan, but that was entirely due to the nature of its frame, in terms of overall mass, Trypticon seemed to be slightly larger. The mountain-sized dracosaur lowered its head and charged the humanoid, but the humanoid was prepared and stepped forward, delivering a right cross that shot forth a thunderclap that shattered all but the most durably built transparent metal windows within a mile of the strike, and which sent the bipedal Trypticon stumbling to the side and crashing into a cluster of buildings a mile to Red Alert's right.

Despite watching this battle of unfathomably powerful beasts, Red Alert still pressed on toward an escape, Primus willing. But a shot landing squarely on the back of his thigh sent him tumbling to the ground. Like with the glancing shot earlier, he could still function despite this injury, but the placement and the fact that he was about to land on that leg made it so that he was now face down in a growing pile of metal shavings and ash. He rolled and pushed to get back to his feet, but a stomping impact against his lower back sent him back into the ground. "This has been fun, shitbag, but it's time to carry out your sentence." One of the Decepticons growled almost amusedly. With the layers of ash and the air around them thick with smoke, it was difficult to differentiate between them as Red Alert rolled over onto his back and looked up at them.

"I'm the one that gets to spray his brain module over the street." The other Decepticon asserted as he stepped forward and lowered his rifle toward Red Alert's cranial shell.

"Eat a rod, I'm the one who downed him." The other snapped as he too stepped forward and positioned his weapon for the kill. "If it weren't for me, we'd still be chasing this bucket of slag through this collapsing city."

"Look exhaust por…" the Decepticon's head snapped back then rolled forward to reveal darkening optics and a new hole between them. His frame collapsed as the other Decepticon turned toward where the shot had originated from just to get one of his optics shot out. A moment later he was laying on the ground dead next to his partner.

Red Alert scrambled on the ground to turn and peer over the pile of debris in the direction of where the shots had come from, and through the dusty haze he made out three forms approaching him, the two on either side were equally tall and hulking, each at least twenty-two feet in height, while the one in the center was roughly his size, a moderately built fifteen to sixteen footer. Red Alert pushed himself to his knees and raised his hands in submission; if they killed Decepticons, then maybe they'd let him live. As they got close he was able to make out a bit more, the large one on the right seemed to be a blue or gray coloration, it was genuinely difficult to tell in the thick mess of air, the large one on the left seemed to be primarily red, and the smaller center one was mostly white, with a healthy share of black mixed in.

"Nice shooting Streetwise." The big red one stated. "I like working with your team Hot Spot, very professional."

"Thank you, Inferno, I guess we have blended quite well." The big blue one replied as they came to a stop a few feet away from Red Alert, who was still kneeling with his hands raised. "Who'd have thought Autobot riffraff and Decimus security agents would adapt to one another as well as we have."

"Perceptor and Brainstorm for two." The midsized Streetwise said as he raised his rifle and rested the barrel against his shoulder.

"Naw, Silverbolt's team had the same genetic affinity for one another that you guys have, but they, well, they don't gel anywhere near as well as you guys." The big red Inferno replied. "And being security for a high house doesn't preclude a bot from becoming a loyal Autobot."

"Yeah, but you were House Pax." Streetwise muttered as he grinned down at Red Alert. "They were always pretty warm to Autobot ideals, even before there were Autobots."

"Yup, kinda why I still am with House Pax, just doing it part time these days." Inferno replied before he too smiled at Red Alert and nodded at him. "Your optics and audio receptors working?"

Red Alert nodded toward the two giants devastating the outskirts of the city. "Not so sure after seeing that! What the hell am I looking at?"

Inferno nodded. "You've seen Trypticon, right?"

Red Alert nodded. "Read the reports, have seen some footage."

"Prime found, rescued and recruited a Titan for our side." The blue Hot Spot explained. "That's the humanoid one, his name is Metroplex."

"So, it seems that your optics and audios ARE working, so you should have seen our brands and heard us mention we're Autobots." Red Alert shrugged at Inferno's comment, as if to ask what his point was. "So, get off your knees."

"Unless you're injured." Hot Spot added.

Red Alert bit through the pain of his two shots and stood up, lowering his hands as he did so. "Thank you for saving my life. My name is Red Alert, I'm Security Director of Cybertropolis."

Inferno leaned toward Hot Spot. "Security Director of Cybertropolis could be very useful in finding Decepticon positions and assets we could use."

"As well as finding likely locations of civilians taking shelter and helping to get them out of this warzone." Hot Spot added.

"Yeah, that too." Inferno chuckled as he turned back to Red Alert. "Whaddaya say, Red Alert, feel like staying on the clock for a few hours more?"

Red Alert looked around at the chaos, the brawl of the two impossibly huge monsters having moved to the outskirts of the city by this point, and now that the fight was in a less populated area, the Manifest was targeting Trypticon and turning the tide of the fight well into the favor of the white humanoid. "Yes, I have a few ideas for where we can find both good guys and bad guys."

"Good man." Inferno cheerfully replied as he turned to Hot Spot. "You and your team head west, Red Alert and I'll head east, work our way through Cybertropolis, save who we can, kill who we can, and meet up later for engex." He looked back at Red Alert. "Let's go Red."

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Sparkplug

"It's gorgeous Witwicky, great place to bring the family for a vacation," the Marine Corps Colonel announced as he approached Sparkplug on the beach as amphibious vehicle zipped in to land on the stretch of land already swarming with dozens of Marines and C.I.A. agents, "but so far I haven't seen anything to indicate a base for giant alien robots."

"It's been eleven thousand years since that base was operational, Colonel Langford, even were it located here I doubt the evidence of it would be found in the first few hours." Sparkplug responded. "And Ponta dos Ilheus just houses an entrance to it. The actual base is submerged out there." He nodded westward toward the Atlantic Ocean.

"Yeah, I read Timaeus and Critias." Colonel Langford snapped back as the soldiers and agents around them on the beach set up their base of operations. "Still skeptical of what we'll find here."

"I have no doubt it's here," Sparkplug answered, "if we fail to find it, that's on us."

Langford, a tall thin man in his fifties, with thinning salt and pepper hair, scanned the area and chuckled. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about being overrun by the natives. I think there are more of us on this island than them."

"No, not all of Flores, or even the Lajes de Flores municipality, but this far southwest, there are way more Americans here than Portuguese for many kliks." Witwicky explained. "We're at the most western point in Europe."

"Actually, this island is part of the North American tectonic plate, so I can always fall back on that if we have to explain this military presence on Portuguese territory." Langford added with a chuckle.

"We've cleared it with the Portuguese." Witwicky replied as the two men caught sight of a team of advance scouts trotting toward them. "Nothing like the menace of alien invasion to foster international cooperation. Even the Soviets have expressed an openness to alliance when it comes to the Cybertronian threat."

"Fuck those godless commie bastards." Langford grumbled as his scout team finally reached them and saluted him. "Report."

"Sir, the intel is good." The team leader, a Sergeant named Hill, replied. "Several feet down, several slabs of rock covering it, but we found what the reports indicate is the entrance to the tunnels leading to the target."

"How's that skepticism now, Colonel Langford?" Sparkplug asked with a smile.

"Keep your pants on Witwicky, so far we've just found a cave." The Marine Colonel replied, trying to downplay the discovery which even he knew was far more than just coincidental. "We're not planting the Stars n Stripes on Atlantis just yet."

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Bumblebee

"Soooo, I still don't get it." Bumblebee sent the transmitted statement through the private channel to Wheeljack. "It's the terrain between where we had to land and the dam?"

"That and the nature of the target." Wheeljack replied as Bumblebee watched his Astin Martin form zip on ahead of Bumblebee's beetle form in the other lane of the desert road.

"But the Hoover Dam generates a great deal of power, seems like a pretty good target to me." Bumblebee retorted.

"It's not a bad target, but it's just hydro-electric power, not really appetizing enough for Starscream to risk us whooping his ass again."

"Yeah maybe, but…and please keep this between us, but it just seems, I don't know, kind of paranoid." Bumblebee hesitantly replied.

"Hey, he said he could very well be wrong. He said he hoped he was wrong." Wheeljack answered but continued after a pause. "But how often has he been wrong?"

"Yeah…yeah." Bumblebee let it drop as the sun beat down on the eighteen vehicular forms making their way through the dry, mountainous road toward the Hoover Dam. To their right was a steep drop down further into the Black Canyon all the way to the Colorado River hundreds of feet below. The United States government had started evacuating people from the area around the dam upon hearing of the Decepticon attack, and a few dozen individuals aside, had managed to keep the human population unaware of what was truly going on. To maintain the secrecy, the Autobots had to put the Oar down miles away in a desolate section of desert and continue the remainder of the way in car mode.

At the forefront of the convoy of Autobots was Orion Pax in his tractor trailer mode, leading them toward the dam which was just now coming into view. "Autobots," Pax addressed them through a communal channel, "be prepared."

If what Pax feared was going to happen was going to happen, it would have to be happening soon. There were four locations he had pointed out on the holomap before disembarking, and they'd already passed three. The fourth was coming up, whereas to their right was the cliff with a several hundred-foot drop to the river below, to their left was a series of steep cliffs. Bumblebee didn't want to root for Pax being wrong, but it was looking like they'd have smooth sailing all the way to the dam.

BOOM!

"What'd I tell ya!?" Wheeljack's voice erupted through the private conversation channel as the first shot that had impacted Pax's side was followed by dozens more raining down on the Autobots from the cliffs to the left.

"Autobots, transform and return fire!" Orion called out verbally as well as through the transmission, transforming both himself and his trailer as he did so, spitting forth ion blasts along the rockface where the attacking shots had come from. Several holographic bits of mountain disappeared to show over a dozen Decepticon armored warriors rolling out in vehicular modes that ranged from various Cybertronian battle tanks to artillery mounts to high-speed battle cruisers. And leading them forward was a legend, an ancient Cybertronian that Bumblebee, despite his limited education, was familiar with. Strika, her massive six-wheeled battle chariot rolled out ahead of her armored division, her twin cannons spitting forth death at the Autobots, leaving Pax the option of advancing toward the dam while the Decepticons fire at will at their left flank, retreating back the way they came, leaving their right flanks exposed to the Decepticon barrage, advance up the high ground on a more heavily armed force, or jump over the side to the river below. Bee was thinking that the river was probably the best of the four options when he suddenly noticed ahead, six green and purple construction vehicles were rolling down the mountain and getting onto the road between the Autobots and the dam. So that left three options. Or at least three until Bumblebee noticed five other vehicles, all moving much more quickly than the construction vehicles, coming from the direction that they had arrived from. At the front was a black cab-over-engine semi-truck hauling a gray trailer, flanked by four sports cars, two on either side. These five civilian vehicles were coming up fast and effectively blocking their retreat.

Bumblebee and the other Autobots dove behind the transformed trailer for cover as Orion turned to the construction vehicles and called out. "Autobots, the green and purple vehicles are the Constructicons, and therefore Devastator." He then turned toward the civilian vehicles. "Seems our course is clear! Path of least resistance!"

"And here I'd heard that you were so clever, Orion Pax." A feminine voice came through a communal channel, as Bumblebee turned to his left to see Ironhide peering over the edge of the flattened trailer to peer at the armored division taking pot shots at them. A shot zipped against the side of Ironhide's helmet but got no reaction from him and left no damage, but a moment later he did lower his head back down. The feminine voice continued her taunting. "I'd like to introduce you to Menasor." With that the construction vehicles on one end of the road and the civilian vehicles on the other end started shifting shape until two massive robots stood in their places, both ominously starting to march toward the Autobots. Orion raised his rifle to Devastator and scored a shot against the giant's head, but it merely annoyed the green and purple monster. Orion then turned and scored the same shot against this new Menasor, eliciting the same level of insignificant aggravation. "I had hoped for so much more from you. Megatron made you seem much more worthwhile than you really are."

"We're not beaten yet, Strika." Orion replied, then turned to the Autobots. "Ironhide, Trailbreaker, Hound, Ratchet, combine to form Stalwart!" With that the four Autobots stepped forward and began reconfiguring their shapes, forming a multi-colored sixty-five-foot-tall beast of a robot. Still a good fifteen feet shorter than either of the other two gestalts, and vastly less bulky than Devastator, this Stalwart made an impressive sight none the less and gave the Decepticon giants a momentary pause, but just momentary. Both Menasor and Devastator started running toward the Autobot gestalt, and Menasor, being the faster of the two, reached Stalwart first and dove at him…and then right through him, and stumbling over the edge of the cliff down the canyon toward the river below. Devastator was only a couple steps behind his comrade, and though he tried to stop, he lacked the reflexes and balance to effectively do so. He went through the faux gestalt, managing to come to a stop right at the edge of the cliff, teetering over but not quite falling. A sprinting Orion leaping up and planting his shoulder into the off-balance giant sent it over the edge, and unlike Devastator, Pax was able to react quickly enough and possessed the agility and balance to kick off the descending gestalt land securely on the ground as Devastator toppled over the edge and toward the other gestalt far below.

Orion turned back toward the armored division of Decepticons and opened fire in earnest, sending the line of vehicles scrambling about. "Ohhhh, well done young Convoy. Deception on the level where even Obsidian might be impressed." Strika's voice came through. "But you're still out matched. Armored calvary may be my forte, but even I can't deny the benefit of air power." With that three jets shot out from behind the dam and sped toward them. "Starscream, send them my way."

"Strika," Orion muttered into his wrist, "did you really think you were the only ones with stealth technology?" Bumblebee turned to see all his Autobot comrades except for Orion, Roller, Brawn, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe vanish, and looked up to a point on a ridge above and to the left of Strika's ground forces where Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide and the others emerged from behind rocks, a fatigued Mirage leaning against a boulder as he adjusted his shoulder cannon from large scale holographic projection mode back to weapons mode. All the Autobots on the high ground took aim at the unsuspecting jets and opened fire, creating a wall of ordinance that slammed into the three Decepticon jets, and moments later the three smoking wrecks were careening to the river below. Orion turned and stared at the purple and orange war machine. "And before you start taunting about having the high ground over me, Strika…" the Autobots that had downed the jets turned their fire on the Decepticon ground vehicles below them.

"Bastard!" Strika roared as her six-wheeled form barreled over the rocky ground toward Orion, her cannons blasting his position as Autobot ordinance from above punctured the rocky ground around her and kept her troops at bay. To protect the other low-ground Autobots from Strika's oncoming advance, Orion dove away from them, transformed, and sped toward her, weaving quickly enough to avoid direct shots from her cannons, but catching enough glancing blasts to cause significant damage. As they drew closer to one another they both transformed, the legendary Strika towering over Orion with her hulking thirty-foot frame. "I hear you have an ignis superious." She snarled at him as she battered him back with a wild swing. "You're hardly alone in that regard, you pompous little shit!" She hammered down at him, but Orion twisted away and countered with a left jab/right cross/left roundhouse combination that was so fast it almost seemed like one punch and sent the massive Strika toppling back and onto the rocky ground.

"Stay down!" Orion roared. "You have eons of service to Cybertron, surrender and I promise you that it will be fully considered. There's nothing that you've done personally that you cannot atone for!"

"Don't condescend to me, you spoiled little shit!" Strika roared as she got back to her feet, her over-the-shoulder cannons erupting and blasting the ground beneath the quickly evading Orion.

He leapt and dodged her shots while the other Autobots laid into the remaining Decepticons from either side of them, pressing their advantage until all of the armored ground troops that Strika must have brought with her from Cybertron were dead, inoperative or surrendering. Orion ignited his wrist-axe and worked his way closer to Strika, taking the occasional shot but remaining moving. He dove up and swiped, destroying the barrel of one cannon, and as he came down and rolled and swung again, cutting into Strika's leg, causing her to stumble forward but remain upright. "I implore you, Strika, for the good of our planet, for the good of your own legacy, stand down!"

"I will NOT allow a defeat at the hands of a child tarnish that legacy that you seem to be worried about!" Strika snapped, firing a shot that hit Orion in the lower back, sending him to the ground. She lunged toward him, firing again, but Orion moved, spun and swung his axe once more at her, and whether intended or not, the blade of the energon axe sliced into and through her helmet, deep into her head, embedding the energy-axe blade from the base of her skull all the way through to just behind the optics. The frame of the ancient legend immediately ceased all movement and hung limply from the axe jutting out from Orion's wrist. A horrified look was on Orion's face, but it quickly turned to saddened resolve, and all he could do was deactivate the axe and allowed Strika's frame to collapse to the ground.

"Prowl, status report." Orion solemnly transmitted.

"You and your command center took a helluva beating, but beyond that it seems just minor injuries for the rest of us." Prowl replied. "Nothing more than a few hours in the infirmary for anyone. Might take Wheeljack a couple days to get the command center back to optimum condition though. Three conscious surviving Decepticons on the ground, five unconscious, and six dead. And of course, Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp and the two gestalt teams taking a swim below."

Orion nodded and looked over to the twins who were approaching him with Bumblebee. "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, verify that there are no Decepticons in Hoover Dam. If there are, do not engage, just report in and we'll take them together."

The twins nodded, transformed, and headed to the dam. Bumblebee took a few more steps toward his Commander and looked up at him, Pax's face making it clear that he was deep in thought, thoughts that were weighing on him. "Orion, she left you no choice, you have to know that, right?"

"I do." Orion sadly smiled, but his optics were still fixed on Strika's corpse. "But that doesn't change the fact that I seem to be destroying our history, bit by bit."

What the hell could he say to that? Orion had no reason to feel bad about any of this, but he was operating at a level well above Bumblebee. Bee couldn't think of the perfect thing to say, so he just spoke his mind and hoped it landed well. "You are our history, Orion. Every bit as much as Paxus, Honorious, Alpha Trion, Gallus Honorum, Big Convoy, Strika or Obsidian. I didn't see some guy destroying history today, I saw two Cybertronian legends fighting each other, and the right one won."

As impossible as it seemed, the weight on Orion seemed to lighten as he considered these insufficient words, and he looked deeply into Bumblebee's optics and smiled. "Thank you, Bumblebee. Please help Prowl and Jazz round up the fallen Decepticons." Orion looked to his battered command center, Roller already circling it to assess the vast damage. "I need to get this thing into a more haulable condition."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Shockwave

Most of the Decepticons expected Megatron to be outraged, but Shockwave knew better. Cybertropolis was never meant to be held indefinitely, at least not this early in the war. It was meant to be a psychological victory over the weak-minded masses that could be influenced by psychological tactics, a demonstration of Guardian Prime's vulnerability, but strategically Cybertropolis was less significant than dozens of other locations. Unfortunately, with the unforeseen recruitment of a Titan on par power wise with Trypticon, Prime's standing seemed only to be increased by the loss and retaking of Cybertropolis, despite the estimated three thousand dead. But Shockwave knew Megatron was cognizant of the fact that there was nothing Galvatron could have done that would have resulted in any other result. This browbeating that was going on in the throne room of Darkmount was merely a show of dominance, nothing more. Even this location, Galvatron's former seat of power which had recently been claimed by Megatron as the new Decepticon headquarters, was a way for Megatron to assert his control over the former Warden of the Southern Hemisphere.

"I told you not to underestimate Prime's forces!" Megatron snarled as he leaned forward in the throne that used to belong to the individual he was yelling at. "I told you to not disregard that other ship! But you knew better, didn't you? They were insignificant; insects before the might of Trypticon!" Megtron leaned back into his seat. "You're just fortunate that we were able to organize an effective retreat and that Trypticon was able to get away with only moderate damage. But even that moderate damage sets us back."

Galvatron, angrily clenching his metal teeth, stood in the center of the dark throne room, Cyclonus and Scourge standing on either side of him, but at the pause following Megatron's accusations stepped forward and pointed at the Decepticon Commander. "You act as though you or anyone else could have come out of that attack in any better shape that I did! There was no way to know that white ship was a Titan! You didn't know, your cycloptic 'genius' didn't know!" Shockwave ignored the gesture and reference to him; he even disregarded the sarcasm which encased Galvatron's use of 'genius'.

"No, neither of us could have guessed because neither of us had ever served as Guardian Prime's second!" Megatron snarled back. "He didn't identify and locate that guardian in the last few weeks, he's clearly been actively seeking since before your great nap. I would accept Shockwave or Starscream or Obsidian or Onslaught or any of the other Decepticon officers not seeing that coming, but you were Guardian Prime's right hand for eight million years!"

"Even if that's true, and I doubt he really started looking until we came back to see Trypticon, he clearly was keeping some of his ambitions from me." Galvatron spat back defensively. "We did start out as bitter enemies, we both were completely aware that our friendship was a farse told to the idiot masses, so no, he never fully trusted me!"

Megatron leaned back and shrugged. "In light of Cybertropolis, I'd say he was wise not to."

"Cybertropolis was because I knew he was moving against me." Galvatron growled quietly.

Megatron smiled. "Oh, this is new. And how was he moving against you?"

"Never mind." Galvatron growled again.

Megatron turned and sent a look to Soundwave, who nodded before speaking out. "Believed replacement was being groomed."

Galvatron whipped his head and glared at Soundwave, ready to unload a barrage of verbal threats that would precede physical ones, but Megatron's laughter stopped him. "Ah, yes, let me guess, Pax. He was going to replace you as his second and probably as the Warden of the Southern Hemisphere with Orion Pax." Megatron shrugged. "Can't say I blame him. Had Orion been so inclined, it'd have been him standing here next to me instead of Shockwave." Megatron turned and looked up into Shockwave's lone optic with a smirk. "No offense, dear Shockwave."

"I do not get offended." Shockwave replied emotionlessly.

"That's right." Megatron smirked as he turned back to Galvatron. "In light of that, the short-lived conquest really played into Guardian Prime's hands. Now he can replace you without any hemming or hawing or worrying about whether his sacking you might strain the loyalty of the southerners."

Galvatron grinned. "I would like to point out that you're the one to order the taking of Cybertropolis!"

"Per the recommendation of you!" Megatron stood as he replied calmly, but with a notable increase in his tone. "Taking that northern manufactured capitol was your fucking idea!"

Galvatron chuckled and shook his head. "A commander blaming a subordinate for his decision?" He looked back to Cyclonus, who shared the disapproving head shake.

"Watch yourself Galvatron." Megatron growled as he started descending the stairs from the thrown to the floor below. "Even a fool can see what you're attempting to do here." Megatron paused for a moment as he considered his own statement, and Shockwave could sense that even Megatron recognized that it wasn't true. There were plenty of Decepticons dumb enough to buy into Galvatron's attempts to cast Megatron in a negative light. Megatron's demeanor suddenly changed. "But perhaps I am being too hard on you, Galvatron. Perhaps all you need to make everything right again is a successful mission. Returning us to a position of superiority over our enemies."

Galvatron's optics narrowed as he made no attempt to hide his suspicion. "What did you have in mind, Mighty Megatron?"

"He will see me now!" The bellow from the hallway was clearly heard throughout the throne room, and the sound of it made Megatron grumble and shake his head. This was fully expected, but Megatron was clearly hoping that he would be done with Galvatron before this occurred.

"I'm sorry, General, but you must wait until he grants you admittance." Blitzwing, who was guarding the throne room door, could be heard replying.

"Allow him in!" Megatron bellowed, and a moment later Obsidian hovered into the room. He was about to address Megatron, but the Decepticon Commander interrupted him. "You will wait until I finish my business with Galvatron." Obsidian seemed inclined to object for a moment, but thought better of it, nodded, and hovered off to the side of the room. Megatron turned back to Galvatron. "You will return to Helios Three and secure the Ferrotaxis. Is that understood?"

Shockwave gauged Galvatron's reaction to the order, who just glared at Megatron for a moment as he realized that while on the distant planet he would be unable to undermine Megatron's authority, just as had been done to Starscream, and should he be successful, the Decepticons would be in possession of a device that could change everything. "Yes Megatron, I understand. I will need a scientific team; there are a lot of technicals involved, and that's not really my forte."

"You may take Trepan; he will be more than adequate. Dismissed." Megatron replied disinterestedly before turning to Obsidian. "Approach old friend. I mourn for your loss. And not just your loss, but Strika was a treasure to all Cybertron, and an exceptional leader to the Decepticon cause."

"Thank you, Lord Megatron." Obsidian replied as he hovered forward. "I ask permission to go to this Helios Three with Galvatron, but whereas he is to find Jhiaxus's planet-killer, I seek justice for my paramour. Let me track down this Orion Pax and exterminate he and his Autobot contingent. The fight for Cybertron may take many more years, but I can give you Earth in a matter of weeks, if not days."

"Obsidian, you are a valued teacher, my effectiveness as a military commander it tied directly to your teachings," Megatron smiled at the ancient legend, "and it is because of those teachings that I am reluctant to send you to Helios Three. It is you that taught me to do my best to approach battle and strategy devoid of passion, free from anger or hatred. Sending you there with vengeance so clearly in your spark, that seems a violation of what you taught me."

"You were a good enough student to know that there is no way to fully disassociate one from their passions." Obsidian replied. "But I recognize the reason for your reticence, and I assure you that I will not be charging at Orion Pax full of rage. I will evaluate the situation, I will study his assets, and I will formulate a plan dispassionately. I will save the passion for after I have achieved victory, and should the fates allow that he remains alive and at my mercy post victory, then, and only then will I allow my rage to dictate my actions."

Megatron paused for several moments while he considered this, but then nodded. "Alright my friend, take what you need, but make sure you are successful. Orion Pax may be young but underestimating him has proven fatal to many before you."

"Yes, my Commander."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

N'Che

"The planet was formed around a smaller hyperdense energy cluster, beta caliber I believe it was classified as by the Quintessons." The small gray Fraynian designated Rustlo reported. "The energy cluster was far too small and weak to give rise to spark-based life, but organic life evolved in moderate abundance, though only one higher functioning species is believed to have evolved. They reached the pinnacle of their civilization roughly three million years ago, and shortly thereafter a civil war broke out." The Fraynian paused his reporting for a moment. "The records are scarce given the distance of time, but I have uncovered rumors that perhaps the Quintessons played a role in the start and escalation of this war. What are more than rumors is that the Quintessons served as arms supplier to both sides, and after several centuries of warfare, weapons capable of eradicating all life on the planet came to be used, and, well, the weapons did their job, all life was eradicated. Within weeks of the last gasps the Quintessons declared the planet uninhabited and claimed it in the name of the Quintesson Pan Galactic Co-Prosperity Sphere."

"Of course they did." N'Che muttered as he peered out the viewport of the planet far below them.

"Yes, well, while the hyper dense energy cluster at the core of Sandokan isn't strong enough to give rise to living sparks, it did make the planet a natural producer of phlogiston, an extremely energy-dense power source." Rustlo continued his explanation. "It is roughly on par with energon in terms of power output but is far less stable."

"I'm familiar with phlogiston." N'Che stated, continuing his unbroken gaze of the planet below. "With minimal refinement, it can be converted to a suitable energon substitute."

"Yes Commander." The nervous Fraynian muttered. "And that's what the Quintessons have been doing for three million years. Their mining colony here had been extremely lucrative for them, which is why they want our involvement here now."

N'Che was quiet for a moment before calling out to the computer. "Screen, present view of the Cybertronian camp." A moment later they showed a large and well-armed white base, with a smaller defense base housing a large tank and rocket a mile west of it and another similarly sized defense base with just a launch platform and a white shuttlecraft.

"According to the Quintessons, the smaller bases are the ones that conducted the conquest, two living Transformers, both enormous in size and power. Designations Sky Lynx and Omega Supreme. The white facility must be a housing complex that was brought or built in the two days since the occupation."

"I have seen firsthand what Omega Supreme is capable of." N'Che muttered. "Have the Cybertronians stated what they want here?"

"Well, Commander, as I mentioned some time ago, they've been trying to hail us." Rustlo answered.

"You did, didn't you." N'Che chuckled. "Alright, let's see what these mechanisms want. Patch them through." Rustlo walked over to the communications console and opened the channel, nodding to N'Che as he did so. "You have the honor of addressing Commander N'Che of the Galactic Council, aboard the peacekeeping ship Vikor. To whom am I speaking?"

"The name's Landmine, and we've been in each other's presence before, N'Che, Acting Commander of the Galactic Council." An older sounding voice came through the speaker.

"I'm assuming you were part of Guardian Prime's entourage when we met. I'll present this to your leader personally at some point, but I would like to apologize for the Quintessons' treachery at our prior meeting." N'Che replied. "It happened without our foreknowledge."

"Yes, if I remember correctly, you had just finished assuring Prime that you were fully capable of keeping a lid on them." Landmine chuckled the response.

"I believe that's both oversimplified and not altogether accurate, but as we selected the meeting place, I do feel responsible for what happened after our meeting." N'Che explained.

"Don't fret, everything ended as well as could be expected." Landmine's chuckling got louder.

"Good, then let's get right to the matter of your invasion of this planet." N'Che asked, making no attempt to hide his irritation.

"Oh, I was not aware that Sandokan was a member planet in the Galactic Council." Landmine replied making no attempt to hide his sarcasm. "We were operating under the belief that Sandokan was a planet purged of its native lifeforms by the Quintessons and claimed by them in the aftermath."

"The Sandokans wiped themselves out." N'Che growled.

"Oh, your records show no Quintesson involvement on that front?" Landmine continued with his sarcasm. "That seems odd, as we have ample evidence that…"

"Enough!" N'Che angrily interrupted. "I'm not here to justify anything the Quintessons have done, or anything that you've done. Regardless of what may or may not have happened millions of years ago, this planet is the rightful and legal domain of our ally, the Quintesson Pan Galactic Co-Prosperity Sphere, and we are here to put matters right!"

"Ally?" Landmine muttered, letting the weight of the word make N'Che realize his path was now set.

"Yes." N'Che quietly responded after a pregnant pause. "They weren't, but they are now. We have little in common with them, but the one shared value we do have with them is an obligation to keep your damned species from ever leaving your planet." N'Che turned to an Ilxian bridge commander. "Wipe them out."

"Target everything made of metal within a five-mile radius of that white base!" The Ilxian barked out, but suddenly sensors started to frantically go off on multiple controls in the bridge. "What's going on?"

"Sir, wormhole opening to our rear!" A ten-foot cyborg of a species N'Che was having difficulty identifying called out from his station.

"Split screen." N'Che calmly called out, and watched as the view of the ground based Cybertronians, including the smaller bases shifting into combined larger space freighters and launching, adjust to a smaller size and move to the left half of the screen while the right half displayed the tear in space behind them and the emergence of a massive space craft accompanied by a half dozen smaller ones. N'Che instantly recognized the craft to be the Manifest, the source of his Cybertronian headaches, a ship almost as large as the Vikor and whose reemergence from myth brought about the renewal of Cybertronian expansion.

"Commander N'Che, the craft is hailing us." The cyborg announced.

"Put it through." N'Che commanded.

"Greetings Galactic Council warship, this is Guardian Prime of Cybertron." The voice came through.

"Hello Guardian Prime, it is a pleasure to speak to you again." N'Che responded. "I have already stated this to your subordinate on the planet, but I first would like to apologize for that Quintesson ambush on Neutronia. We were unaware that the Quintessons had knowledge of our meeting, or that they were planning hostilities."

"And yet you're here, once again protecting their interests despite such an act." Guardian Prime replied, the hint of mirth in his voice grating against N'Che's nerves. "I understand your fear of us, N'Che, but from an ethically defensible standpoint, you're definitely backing the wrong side. History will not remember you fondly."

"WE write the history books, Prime of Cybertron." N'Che snapped. "This fleet ensures that I will be the filter by which the galaxy, as well as future generations, knows of what happens here now."

"Yes, the Vikor is very impressive, as are the other four slightly smaller warships with you." Prime replied. "Each of those is likely a match for my Manifest, and the Vikor, well that's the next rung up the ladder. So yes, at face value you appear to have the upper hand. You certainly are in possession of superior non-living technology."

"Your implication being that you have living machines that can turn the balance toward your favor?" N'Che scoffed. "As impressive as Omega Supreme is, or that…" N'Che looked to Rustlo, who mouthed the forgotten name, "Sky Lynx may be, they are not formidable enough to overwhelm my fleet, I can assure you of that."

"Be that as it may, The Manifest and the small array of other ships I've brought with me are positioned to keep you from escaping." Prime explained. "Despite your opinion of my odds, I'm clearly all in here."

"Good." N'Che smirked. "This latest Cybertronian threat dies today then." He looked to the Ilxian bridge commander. "Give the command to eradicate them all."

"Aye Commander." He turned to face the room in general and opened a channel to the rest of the fleet. "Target and fire at will until all Cybertronians have been wiped out!"

N'Che smiled. "Goodbye Guardian Prime," the cannon rounds launching could be heard, "knowing you has provided me a template for all future dealings with Cybertron. I realize that at some point, extinction of your species will be a necessity."

"With statements like that, you really do think we don't have a chance." Prime, despite the situation, chuckled as he said that.

"Commander N'Che, the ground originating craft, the ones designated Omega Supreme and Sky Lynx have engaged the Abider and the Authority respectively." A helmsman called out. "The Sky Lynx is following traditional dogfighting maneuvers, but the Omega…shit! Sir, the Omega Supreme has collided at impulse speed with the Abider! There's a vast puncture in the portside hull!"

"Shit!" N'Che yelled. "He's going to transform!"

"Sir, the Sky Lynx went in for a strafing run of the Authority and its cargo section became detached and fell upon the Authority's hull. There doesn't appear to be any…shit, the cargo section is"

"Yes, it's transforming, I know!" N'Che roared. "Have the Quest and the Diplomatic Solution target the transformers on the hulls of the Abider and Authority, instruct them to make their shots as targeted as possible, but let them know that in all likelihood those ships are lost anyway." He then turned to the bridge commander. "How much longer before the Manifest is destroyed?"

"Commander N'Che, the Vikor is its superior, but the Cybertronian vessel is still well fortified. Our barrage will need to continue for about another four to six minutes bef…"

"Commander N'Che," Rustlo interrupted with a shout, "the facility on the surface of the planet has transformed into a sort of spacecraft carrier and launched. It's heading our way!"

"Then target and destroy it!" N'Che barked. "We have guns on both sides of the Vikor, don't we?" N'Che raised his eyes to the viewscreen to see the massive base coming at them, and the explosions erupting all over it as the Vikor sent volley after volley at it. But to the amazement of everyone on the bridge of the Vikor, the white and black structure seemed completely unaffected and continued forward, only increasing its speed. "How is this possible?" N'Che roared.

"N'Che!" Guardian Prime's voice barked through the communication speakers. "I can tell you that things didn't need to be this way, that we could have found a way of coexisting, but we both know that's bullshit. I want to thank you for your statements to that effect, as well as your acknowledgement that The Galactic Council and the Quintessons are allies, it will make our justification of dismantling your precious organization unimpeachable. Oh, there will still be protests, but we'll at least have some pretext to fall back on while ending the threat the Council poses."

"Commander, look!" Rustlo called out, pointing at the left side of the screen that was showing the white battle station, just several miles out, shifting shape again.

"Impossible!" N'Che whispered in terror as he saw the structure take a humanoid shape. The unfathomably large robot continued flying toward them in orbit and reached back it's right hand, ready to deliver an over-hand punch.

"Good-bye N'Che, Acting Commander of the Galactic Council." Guardian Prime's voice ominously stated through the channel a moment before the black knuckles of the giant shot forward. The auditory, visual and other sensory overload was impossible to decipher, and after a chaotic and painful minute, N'Che was finally able to piece together that he was looking at blackness with debris strewn about, and around him it was cold, so very cold, and soundless, and…devoid of air. He was in space, unprotected, he could feel his inner pressure pushing out against him as he floated in this vacuum, he could feel his organs shutting down as his eyeballs started to freeze. Even as he grasped his situation, his thoughts were slowing, harder to grasp, fading…

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Orion Pax

"In the twenty-third meta-cycle of the second breem of the war, Galvatron led a force of twelve thousand north through Tyrest, toward the border of Nova Cronum where he intended to move along the eastern coast of the Mithril Sea to Iacon, but the Polyhexian warlord, recently inducted into House Mactus, was met by a force of seven thousand northern soldiers equipped with armored vehicular shell-modes led by Strika." The voice of Teletran One came through the speaker in Orion Pax's wrist as he sat on a boulder in the rocky expanse beyond the holographic rock face of the small section of Mount Saint Helens that the Ark was parked within. "The northern forces held back those of Galvatron for thirteen days until air support from Obsidian arrived and drove the invaders back into southern Tyrest. From there they were pincered between forces attacking them from the west by militias led by the little-known Atrium who hailed from the Crystal City, and from the east by Gallus of House Honorum. While Galvatron escaped, his invasion force, which had prevailed in conquering dozens of cities before, was effectively wiped out, and Galvatron was forced to increase his conscription efforts."

"Teletran One, cease play of historical datatrack." Orion muttered as he looked off into the distant forest. "Stryka's Blockade…." He muttered despondently as he looked up to see an object in the sky.

"Pax, they're here." Jazz's voice came through the speaker.

"I see it, thank you Jazz." Orion replied as he hopped off the boulder and stood on the ground waiting. "Please make Ratchet aware of the arrival and to prepare the Terra-fitting for the reinforcements."

"Aye Commander." Jazz replied as the object in the sky continued its approach, taking the shape of the Oar, one of the Ark's away shuttles.

It took a bit more than a minute for the Oar to land in the clearing, dust and pebbles kicked up by the craft touching down, much of which harmlessly bounced off Orion as he strode toward the shuttle. The port-side door lowered to make a ramp, and out walked a twenty-three-foot-tall predominantly white, boxy robot with wings folded on its back. "Commander Pax, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, your exploits in the short amount of time you've been alive are most awe inspiring. Please know that your lacking an official government title or rank will not impede me or my team taking orders from you in any way. Guardian Prime made it clear that you are to be afforded the same respect and obedience that we would give to him."

Pax nodded and smiled, as four other smaller winged frames marched behind the larger robot addressing Orion, each saluting as they passed. "Thank you Silverbolt, it's great to have you and your team here, we're in dire need of reinforcements in general, and air support in particular. I'm assuming the Decepticon prisoners have been processed, and the…" Orion paused as he wondered how to ask about Strika, "those killed in action have been sorted."

"Yes, Commander Pax." Silverbolt replied. "Though the fate of Strika's frame is still undecided. Many regard her as a traitor and feel no respect should be given to her frame, many feel that choices made in the last two decades of her life should not overwrite millions of years of service and heroism. Ultimately the decision needs to be made by Prime, and he's been extremely busy lately."

"I've heard." Pax nodded. "I don't envy him in the least, particularly on whatever he decides to do with Strike's remains."

"Nor do I Commander." Silverbolt nodded at the slightly shorter Autobot. "I suppose you're aware of the other occupant of the transport. I wasn't sure he should be accompanying us to this planet, but Ultra Magnus vouched for him and claimed you were supportive of his intent to travel here."

"Yes, he's an old friend." Pax replied.

"Wow, I piloted a shuttle housing the demon of the Mechigahara Forest." Silverbolt shook his head in disbelief. "Who not only was real, but just so happened to be a normal, ordinary, albeit extremely old, Nyonian."

"We live in an age of wonders." Orion chuckled. "Please go through the holographic rockface, into the Ark, find Ratchet in the infirmary, and allow him to make changes to help you blend into the machinery of this planet."

"Yes sir." Silverbolt replied, started further down the ramp, but stopped and turned back to Orion. "Sir, there have been other modifications made to our frames. These alterations…"

"Ratchet has been made aware of your enhancements, and the changes to your vehicular modes will be only superficial and will not impede your other attributes in any way."

"Good to know sir, I look forward to working with you." Silverbolt nodded and walked away, allowing Orion to continue up the ramp into the Oar.

Orion entered the passenger/cargo section and saw the bulky Backstop standing a respectful distance away. Backstop nodded to Orion. "I feel I should kneel. You may be a Convoy, but you were raised by royals."

"I was raised by Paxes, there's a distinction there." Orion smiled. "A Convoy, common-born, raised by House Pax, sworn to the Autobot cause; at no point in any of that should kneeling be a consideration." Orion started toward him. "I live because of you Backstop, this is the greeting we're to have."

They both embraced tightly, Backstop's optics dimming as he clutched the Convoy born out of the metallico he had been charged with protecting over twelve million years before. "I set out that day hoping to preserve something of the Convoy line, and despite my ineptitude The Hand decided to take that metallico and create the greatest of the line."

"There was nothing inept about anything you did, dear friend." Orion responded as they released their embrace. "You housed my vessel in the one location on Cybertron where my core metallico would remain unfound by enemies and somehow would not go inert."

"I may deserve some credit for the first consideration but remaining viable for twelve million years…" Backstop chuckled, "the gods favor you Convoy, there's no other explanation."

Orion smiled. "My polyhistor prodded Roller and I to seek out scientific explanations for everything, that to fall back on blindly attributing everything to the divine was simply lazy."

"An atheist." Backstop shrugged.

"Honestly, I can't say." Orion explained as he nodded toward the cockpit, and invitation for Backstop to follow him there. "I asked him once, and all he said was that if there was a creator, natural law would be the toolbox he, she, it or they used in creating." Orion slid into the pilot's seat, eliciting a look of confusion from Backstop. The look was enhanced as Orion nodded toward the co-pilot's seat, indicating he wanted Backstop to sit. "You'll be free to ask him his religious beliefs yourself shortly. I need to go on a trip, and I think it'd be a good idea for you to accompany me."

"I came to this planet to devote my life to serving the last Convoy." Backstop sat. "I will go wherever you need me to go."

"Yes, about that." Orion stated as he piloted the ship off the ground and raised his wrist to his mouth. "Heading out Jazz, you know how to reach me if anything comes up."

"Enjoy the trip Pax." Jazz replied. "We'll hold the fort."

Orion directed the ship to shoot north and a bit east into the clouds before turning to Backstop. "I accept loyalty to those willing to fight for Cybertron or the Autobot cause, I'm a bit uncomfortable with those swearing loyalty to me personally."

"My loyalty has always been to House Convoy, and unfortunately, that's just you." Backstop chuckled.

Orion smiled. "I appreciate that, as I'm sure do my ancestors. But I'm not a fan of being served, and while you may have trouble accepting it, you have a people."

Backstop shook his head. "Even if anyone I ever knew still existed, I…well, I suppose your survival may have changed a thing or two, but for twelve million years I was absolutely convinced that I was a failure and deserved the hatred of everyone that I've ever known. It's not easy to simply change that estimation overnight."

"I suggest you try." Orion said as they entered the upper atmosphere and the ship shot forward at five times the speed of sound. "We'll be in the arctic in a few minutes."

"What's in the artic?" Backstop asked.

"My polyhistor." Orion replied. "And a team of Maximals that served under Big Convoy."

"Big Convoy is here, on this world?" Backstop asked excitedly.

A solemn look came over Orion's face. "He's dead. As is LioConvoy. As is…" he paused, deciding to let that revelation drop later and through someone else's vocal processors, "we'll be there soon, perhaps the Maximals of Earth should be the ones to explain it all." Orion glanced over to see that what was said was having a profound effect upon Backstop, his normally stoic facial features were fighting back a wave of emotions.

Minutes later an incoming transmission lit up a notification on the control panel, prompting Pax to open a channel. "Identify yourself!" The question was asked as the defense systems alerted them to the fact that the Oar had been target-locked.

"I'm Orion Pax, leader of the Autobots, and I come at the invitation of Atrium of the Crystal City." Orion responded.

"Orion Pax, as in the guy claiming to be a Convoy." The very skeptical voice shot back.

"Yup, that guy." Orion replied. "I'm accompanied by Backstop of the Amber Plains. May we land?"

"Just the two of you?" The voice asked. "Wait, the Amber Plains? How old is this guy?"

"Yes, just the two of us. May we land?" Orion replied.

"Yeah, we've been expecting you." The voice gave the consent to land. "Tundra a quarter mile to the west of the Axalon. We're keeping a close watch on you, so nice, easy movements and don't try anything stupid."

"Understood, Pax out." Orion replied as he shut off the communications signal and directed the shuttle to the designated landing area.

Minutes later a slowly driving cab-over-engine semi-truck and a metallic beast resembling an Earth rhinoceros were making their way toward the larger rounded spaceship a short distance away. Several armed Maximals had already started forming a semi-circle around the ship's entry ramp, with more sauntering out to join them in both beast and robot modes. Suddenly a massive polar bear came bounding out and marched quickly toward the advancing truck and rhino, all of them stopping as they got to within forty feet of one another. "Transform!" The bear belted out at them. Orion and Backstop complied, and a moment later two hulking robots were standing over the polar bear. Ursine facial features were not typically known for emoting beyond agitation or rage, but shock was clear on the beast's face. A moment later the bear had vanished and a robot a slight bit taller than Backstop and almost as stout. "I didn't believe it when Rattrap told me the name of the false Convoy's companion."

"Polar Claw!" Backstop gasped.

"How are you still alive?" Polar Claw questioned as he strode toward Backstop and grasped his shoulders. "You…you vanished. I was sure Onyx forces had gotten to you. Had gotten to your…" Polar Claw's optics stretched wide and he took a step back, staring with utter disbelief at Orion.

"My vessel." Backstop nodded as he placed his hand on Orion's shoulder. "My charge. My duty. I failed, I failed horribly, but my charge, my charge was true Convoy, my charge saw the mission through."

"Backstop failed at nothing." Orion countered. "His courage, determination and ingenuity saw the mission through, it just took much longer than anyone could have expected."

"How?" Polar Claw was dumbfounded. "Atrium said you were less than twenty years of age. That metallico was extracted over twelve million years ago."

"We haven't quite figured out the how." Orion stated. "It makes little sense scientifically, odd geology and magnetic fields have been detected around Avalonius, these may have played a role in the long-lived viability of my metallico."

"Avalonius?" Polar Claw questioned.

"Would you have thought to look for me there?" Backstop asked.

"No, definitely not." Polar Claw nodded. "Good choice for a fallback. Ordained choice it would seem." He stared once again at Orion. "Unless this…he…is a hoax."

A look of anger came over Backstop's face, but Orion nodded his understanding. "Believe me, nobody is as skeptical of Violen Jiger's claim of my ancestry as me, but Guardian Prime, I don't understand how or why, but he had an arm of Big Convoy for some reason…" Orion noted a wave of understanding mirth come over Polar Claw. "What?"

"Early in the war against Galvatron, Big Convoy had his arm blown off by a fusion bolt." Polar Claw explained. "He had a replacement built onto his frame, and for all intents and purposes the CNA bonded and functionally it was as good as the old, but the pigmentation never matched the other arm."

Orion smiled. "Well, Prime still has the arm, and he tested the CNA against that in my frame." Polar Claw stared intently waiting for Pax to finish the comment. "It was a haplometalloid match of 93.7%, definitely the same pool, metallico generation within zero point seven three million years of each other."

Polar Claw looked away toward the vast whiteness to the north, the peaks and bleak terrain that had been his home for over one million years. "We've been indoctrinated to question the word of Guardian Prime by those we are certain of as Convoy…" Polar Claw nodded back over his shoulder, "and by him."

Orion and Backstop looked up to see Alpha Trion approaching, though Orion knew not to refer to him by that name here, or likely ever. Orion marched forward and embraced his old mentor, who squeezed back affectionately and looked to Polar Claw from over Orion's shoulder. "This one time, we can take Prime's claim at face value."

The two released each other and turned to face Polar Claw together. Polar Claw stared Orion in the optics. "Actually, we don't have to." The Maximal leader marched past them back toward the Axalon. "Come on."

Twenty minutes later they were in the bowels of the Axalon, a cargo bay that had been converted to serve as a morgue by the looks of the enclosed slabs built into the far wall. Polar Claw led Orion, Backstop and Atrium, as he was known to these Maximals, with almost two dozen other Maximals following behind them. "Rhinox!"

A hulking tan and green Maximal pushed through the crowd and stood before the group in front. "What do you need, Claw?" He asked in his deep voice.

"We need a scan of Lord Pax here." Polar Claw replied. "Haplometalloid analysis. Time to put the rumors to rest, one way or the other."

Rhinox stood before Orion, who smiled at him. "What do you need? The samples they took from me to test against the arm were done while I was unconscious."

"Just a scan will suffice, kid." Rhinox answered, looking up at Orion. "Primus, he does have the look."

"So does Prowl! So do dozens of other Cybertronians!" Polar Claw snapped back.

Orion arched an opticbrow at Atrium, who shook his head and chuckled. "Different Prowl. There's an Ironhide on that squad as well."

"Yeah, and a Silverbolt, so what?" Polar Claw grumbled as he nodded at Rhinox to continue with his scan.

"Yes, but he has teammates named Prowl and Ironhide, as far as I know he doesn't know any Silverbolts." Atrium amicably explained.

"What you know is at least one day out of date." Orion chuckled as Rhinox ran his scanner over him. "One of our reinforcements is designated Silverbolt."

"Scan complete, haplometalloid type being configured." Rhinox muttered. "Who do you want to compare against?"

"Start with Big." Polar Claw instructed. "According to Lord Pax, it'll be a 93.7% match."

"That would indicate a source match, but a significant generational separation." Rhinox muttered as he crossed the room, reached out toward the handle of one of the slab drawers, but paused as the weight of what he was about to do got to him. After a few moments of silent reverence, he pulled it open, revealing a large impressive frame in varying shades of gray. Rhinox waved his hand-held scanner over the corpse of his long-fallen leader, got the reading, and gave his device a few moments to compile the data. A green light flashed on the device and Rhinox lifted it to his optic-line. "Ninety-three point seven."

"Do Lio." Polar Claw ordered.

Rhinox started to slide the slab of Big Convoy back into the wall. "Wait. Please." Orion called out. He then looked to Polar Claw. "May I?"

"I as well?" Backstop asked.

Polar Claw nodded his assent, then looked to Rhinox. "Continue with Lio Convoy."

Orion and Backstop walked forward, Orion took in the form of his genetic ancestor, taking in details of his frame, wishing he had the opportunity to ask Big Convoy the multitude of questions he'd had about himself over the years. Backstop unsuccessfully tried to suppress a gasp of pain at seeing his ancient friend.

The sound of the sliding slab jarring to a halt a couple rows over broke Orion out of his reverie and prompted him to look to that slab, where what he saw was even more jarring than the sound of the slab slamming to a stop. He was tall, well built, less powerful of a physique than Orion but still very impressive, his long-deceased frame as gray as Big Convoy's, but his face…his helm…his crest. Like with Big Convoy, Lio Convoy bore a faceplate, but even that didn't remove any of the astounding similarity Lio Convoy's face and head bore to Orion Pax's. And Orion had been known to don a faceplate on occasion, making him near identical to this Lio Convoy.

"Yeah, uncanny." Rhinox muttered, guessing Orion's thoughts. "In life his optics were yellow though, so not identical by any means." The tan and green Maximal ran his scanner over Lio Convoy, waited a few moments, read the screen, and called out to Polar Claw. "Ninety-five-point two percent match." Rhinox turned to Polar Claw. "This is more than enough, Claw, he's of Convoy metallico."

"I don't dispute that," Polar Claw nodded, "not anymore anyway. He's Convoy, but he can't be what was in that black coral vase twelve million years ago. That's just not slagging possible." The red and white Maximal Earth Commander shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry old friend, but I need this test. I need to know." He looked to Backstop. "So does he."

"I am fully capable of operating that device." Atrium stated. "If you really feel this to be necessary, allow me to do this."

"I've told you before, …Atrium," the stress on the name caught Orion's attention, making him realize that this Polar Claw likely knew the truth, "I don't take orders from you, I took them only from Convoys."

"Then take them again from a Convoy." Atrium nodded toward Orion. "I think we've established there's one in the room."

Polar Claw angrily stared at Atrium for a moment but turned to Orion with a softened gaze. "Yes, there is. I'm going to do something that the Convoys before you always protested, and from what I've heard, the same will be true of you, but I don't care." Polar Claw lowered to one knee and bowed his head, he was immediately followed by the other Maximals, save Rhinox and a small robot with a rodent head on his chest. "You are of Convoy metal, and all that I've heard, you are of Convoy character and morality. And your deeds, they defy belief. I swear fealty to the last Convoy, to my dying pulse."

"Stand, and please, never kneel to me again." Orion announced, getting knowing grins from the rising Maximals. Orion then turned to Rhinox. "You and the youngest Convoy, you were close?"

"You're the youngest Convoy now." Rhinox grumbled.

"They were best friends." The rat-chested small robot called out.

Orion looked to the small robot and nodded his appreciation. He then walked around Big Convoy's slab toward Rhinox standing before another row of closed drawers. Orion slowly reached toward the scanning device in Rhinox's hand and held his own palm open. He looked to Polar Claw. "If this is really necessary, then let me do it."

Polar Claw nodded, looking to Rhinox, who thankfully placed it in Orion's palm. "You know how to operate that thing?" Polar Claw asked.

Orion lifted the device and smiled. "Ratchet's clinic had its share of antiques, I'm sure I can figure this out." Orion stepped back and let Rhinox walk past, who had yet to make optical contact with the last Convoy.

Orion then studied the device for a few moments before figuring out how it operated and reaching for the drawer handle and opening the slab. "Orion Pax." A deep voice called out, and Orion looked up to see that the departing Rhinox had stopped midway through the group of Maximals and was side facing him, looking at him out of the corner of his right optic. "I'm pleased, extremely pleased that House Convoy lives on, and you seem like a good sort. You've certainly done some impressive things. But I'm not looking for any sort of replacement Convoys. These were my friends…Primal was a brother. I'm not sure if you can fathom what that relationship is like."

"I can." Orion replied quietly and solemnly.

"Then you know I'm not seeing you as a continuation of what I once had, Convoy metallico or not." Rhinox continued. "You may or may not be great, we may become friends, I may become a staunch supporter of yours, but it'll be because of what I see you do, not because of your genome."

"I wish all Cybertron felt as you do." Orion said, getting a nod from Rhinox as he turned and left.

"I'll be checking on the patient if you need me." Rhinox muttered as he left.

Orion looked down at the corpse on the table, large, but smaller than him, roughly seventeen feet in height like Lio Convoy, thick, powerful limbs, and the same lifeless gray as the other two Convoy. This Primal Convoy, he wasn't as similar in appearance to Orion as Lio Convoy was, but for some reason Orion felt drawn to the robust dead leader. He turned on the scanner, and while still staring intently at the face of his unknown kinsman, he waved it over the corpse and took in the details. The scan was quick, and Orion held it off to the side as he continued to study Primal's face. After several moments he caught the green glow of the scanner in his periphery, and after a few more seconds shifted his gaze toward the screen on the device. "It's an old scanner, so take this with a dose of skepticism, but…ninety-nine-point eight percent."

"It means your metallico came from the same pool at the exact same time as Primal's." Polar Claw announced.

"It just confirms what I already knew." Backstop said with a smile. "You were my charge, you are my commander, now and forever."

"Enough of this." Orion said loudly. "I would have you all follow Rhinox's example; know who I am, know what I stand for, make sure the figurative mettle that makes me up is worth following, trust me, it's far more important than the literal metal that makes me. At that point, and only then, make your decision to follow me or not. Not until then."

"Not what you'd expect to hear from some dude with a royal name." The rodent-bot piped up. "But a pretty good start."

"That's what it was meant to be." Orion smiled at him. "What's your designation?"

"Rattrap." The small Maximal replied.

Orion's smile broadened. "Glad to see you made it out of Florida."

"Yeah yeah, I'm sure that grumpy gumshoe had plenty to say about me." Rattrap grumbled. "How is ol' Nightbeat?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll be sure to send your regards if I run into him." Orion replied, but looked up at the sounds of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

Rhinox returned into view a moment later, looking first to Polar Claw, then to Atrium. "He's awake."

"Are the restraints in place?" Polar Claw questioned nervously.

"Yes." Rhinox replied.

"I assure you, that's completely unnecessary." Atrium protested. "He's one of the most noble…"

"He's huge, he was armed with weaponry and enhancements I've never seen, and he's the sleekest, most warrior looking robot I've seen since, well, probably ever! We're taking precautions!" Polar Claw countered as he ran up the stairs after Rhinox.

Orion closed the slab of Primal and then the other two dead Convoys before walking over to Alpha Trion. "What's going on?"

Alpha Trion smiled up at Orion. "Let's just say that you aren't my first protégé." He nodded toward the stairs intending for Orion to follow him to the upper levels. "Some time before the launch of the Manifest, my most trusted and brilliant student, and a dear friend, offered to keep tabs on what Jhiaxus was doing. That mission apparently led him here to Helios Three. Based on what I observed of his frame, he looks to have been shot down, likely by Jhiaxus's defensive measures, and has been in the artic ice for over one point two million years."

"How did he survive that long?" Orion asked as they ascended the stairway.

A pained smile came over Alpha Trion. "It would seem that the backup systems that kept Guardian Prime and his command crew alive were developed by my student, Jetfire, and in addition to putting them into the experimental ship that would become the Manifest, he adapted a version for his own system. He was able to ration fuel from all of his available systems, as well as any surrounding energy sources, and keep him from starving for exceptionally prolonged stasis lock."

"Sounds smart." Orion muttered as they reached an upper level.

"Yes, now you and he get to compete head to head to see which of you is my most gifted student." Alpha Trion laughed.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Sky Lynx

The repairs were long completed, but the physical pain of the replacement parts being integrated into his frame lingered on, and likely would for several more days. The battle with the dragon, this Trypticon, was fierce, brutal, and even with Metroplex and Omega Supreme, was extremely hard won. But it was won, the monster and his Decepticon handlers driven back out of the decimated Cybertropolis, leaving them to maintain security while Guardian Prime oversaw rebuilding the planetary capital. It also gave Sky Lynx time to recognize that he now possessed more freedom than he had at any point in his long life. He no longer was confined, he had a tracking device, but ultimately, he could simply take off and leave the planet, and it would be weeks before Guardian Prime could muster any sort of significant pursuit. Yes, the Prime could recruit Metroplex and Omega Supreme to give chase, both of whom were more powerful than Sky Lynx, especially Metroplex, but neither had anywhere near the speed to catch him. And Guardian Prime couldn't afford to leave Cybertron devoid of these assets for an extended period.

Yes, Sky Lynx could get away if he so wanted, but did he? He had served Guardian Prime, and the Prime thus far had seemed true to his promise that service would yield increased freedom. Sky Lynx was free to perform his duties unsupervised and had free time where he was equally unsupervised and free to move about as he wished. Granted, given the asset he was, he was perpetually on call in case hostilities arose, but he had a greater degree of freedom than he had ever had before.

The ground shook lightly, then again, and again. Casually moving footsteps of something as large as him, probably larger. Nowhere heavy enough to be Metroplex, but they seemed about right for the other ignis numen he was aware of. Sky Lynx twisted his long neck and caught sight of Omega Supreme approaching him. "How goes the cleaning of central Cybertropolis?"

"Slow." Omega Supreme replied as he came to a stop next to Sky Lynx and they both stared southward toward the rest of Cybertron. "A lot less will be salvageable than initial estimates. Far more dead and wounded than initial estimates. The battle of the titans was horrifically devastating."

"There will be more battles. There will be more devastation." Sky Lynx muttered. "Even when life improves, tragedy and pain are constant companions."

"Very dark sentiments, but not untrue." Omega Supreme added. "I felt great hope when we drove the Quintessons from our world, then the sparkeaters emerged and that hope faded. We fought hard against the monsters for countless years, but in time we won. I watched the gates because no one else could, but the hope for our world returned. New threats emerged as they always do, and new heroes arose to meet those threats. The era of the Primes began as they tapped into the potential of the Matrix, something that for all their technological greatness, the Quintessons had always failed to do."

"So much happened on our world, and much of it was relayed to me in the depths of the gates. Leaders would come to the gates to seek audience with me, why, I cannot say, but they sought me out, and most were worthy, most were great. Guardian Prime, only recently being elevated from Gallus Honorum, left an exceptionally favorable impression upon me, but even then, I could sense an air of superiority, of entitlement. But it was not my place to point that out, and even if it were, his assets far surpassed such minor character flaws that I may have been mistaken in perceiving. Hope continued, and news of the outside world entering a golden age reinforced such hope."

"And for seven million years little changed, though Guardian Prime would visit on rare occasions, and with each visit he seemed slightly less. Less altruistic, less dedicated to making the world better for all, less hopeful." Omega Supreme looked around the southern horizon, seeing the Cybericon River in the distance. "Then he was gone, and the world stumbled, and plodded along, and despaired, and finally tried to piece itself together. Zeta Decimus was elevated to Prime, and even without being selected by the Matrix, even without being the hero that Gallus Honorum, or Nova Onyx, or Justicia Ambus, or Alpha Trion were, he unified our world again and led justly, at least as justly as Guardian Prime had led at the time of his departure. And once again I was hopeful. And then he was murdered, and Sentinel Honorum was appointed Prime, and he was selfish, and arrogant, and he was petty and vengeful. He murdered a friend of mine, was intent on murdering that friend's charge. The new Emir of House Pax asked me to step in to defend that charge, but I would not abandon my duty…at least that was the reason I clung to. The truth was, I was disinterested in getting involved. The world, one so full of potential, so capable of greatness, had fallen into stagnation, selfish petty leaders had squashed that potential, and with it my hope. I cared nothing for the outside world, I took solace in knowing that at least I would possess the integrity in doing my duty that those others lacked."

Omega Supreme looked down and shook his head. "But after fifteen million years, I failed. The monsters got out, they pour out from the depths of their prison and charged out into the world, dragging me along to torture and execute, events they planned to broadcast in an attempt to demoralize the populace."

"I heard this." Sky Lynx spoke up. "You were rescued by Emir Roller Pax and his exiled adopted kinsman, Orion."

Omega Supreme chuckled. "That's accurate, I suppose, though typically it's Orion Pax that is mentioned first and most prominently."

"But Roller was trueborn, and the emir." Sky Lynx pointed out. "Propriety dictates that he is the greater of the two."

Omega Supreme looked back into the distance as he replied. "Roller would claim the opposite were he capable of speaking. Orion Pax, he would insist that there is no greater of the two. That an individual's inherent worth is equal to all other individuals. Capabilities vary, trustworthiness and skills and abilities and values in certain areas vary, and evaluations based on these things are necessary, but a sentient's core worth is no greater nor lower than any other individual's core worth." Omega Supreme then turned and peered intently at Sky Lynx. "And for the four years of sparkeater infestation, it was Orion Pax that I followed. Not Delta Magnus, who all felt was destined to be the next Prime, not Roller Pax, the Emir of the polar emirate that had been my home for fifteen million years, no, I followed an outlaw elected to lead other outlaws. And during that hell, amid a losing war that would in time lead to our extinction, I never felt more hopeful."

Sky Lynx's optics narrowed. "Because you admired the teenager you chose to follow?"

Omega Supreme nodded. "It sounds absurd, I know, but yes. And that's even fully disregarding the prophecies of the LV117 that fit Orion."

"Ha!" Sky Lynx belted out. "That's a species I haven't heard about in a very long time!"

"You've encountered them?" Omega Supreme asked.

"Yes, the g…the Quintessons would use me to transport to meetings with them. They rarely spoke of their rumored clairvoyance, but the few predictions they did provide the Quintessons seemed to come true, harmless though they were." The birdlike neck twisted so that Sky Lynx could peer at Omega Supreme. "They spoke of Orion Pax?"

Omega Supreme shrugged. "It seems a match to an old prophecy, but ultimately I disregard prophecies, so I never let it influence my evaluation of Orion Pax."

"Probably wise." Sky Lynx nodded. "Using a prophesy to base your judgements or actions by only makes them self-fulfilling, and that's in the best of cases." Sky Lynx looked away. "But prophesy or no, you clearly think very highly of this Orion Pax. Perhaps more highly than you do of Guardian Prime." He then turned back to Omega Supreme. "And you seem to almost be trying to convince me he's better."

Omega nodded as he continued to stare off into the distance. "I know Guardian Prime, I know how he truly is, and I know where his ambitions eventually lie. And I also know Orion Pax, and I know that he will oppose those ambitions. And when that time comes, I know where I will be standing. I will not try to push you to make a decision as to where you will stand, but I will ask that you observe Guardian Prime, I will ask that you observe what you can of Orion Pax, and that when the time comes for you to choose a side, you base your decision not on decorum, but on what's right and just."

Sky Lynx stared into the distance as well. "Guardian Prime would regard what you just said as treason."

"Yes, he would." Omega agreed.

"I'll observe, I'll judge as fairly as I can." Sky Lynx replied, but then turned his head to the far eastern outskirts of the city where a white defense base was stationed. "But ultimately, I'm thinking that his choice of where to stand is going to be far more influential than mine."

Omega Supreme followed Sky Lynx's gaze to the resting Metroplex and nodded. "Yes, I think you're right."

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Trepan

Despite his inner turmoil, Obsidian had provided the closest thing to decent company on the trip from Cybertron to this sloppy organic shitball, but he and his reinforcements had been dropped off at Starscream's Earth command center an hour ago, leaving him now alone with Galvatron, Cyclonus and Scourge as they made their way across this vast body of water. So much water on this world, it seemed odd that the dominant species wasn't aquatic, but according to Starscream's reports, there was only one higher functioning species and it was terrestrial. And while these humans qualified as higher functioning, they were insignificant. This evaluation was called into question as once they finally started approaching a body of land, their ship started taking fire from that ground.

"Any damage at all?" Galvatron snickered out the question to Cyclonus, who was piloting the shuttle.

"The few shots that are actually connecting are not even scratching our paint off." Cyclonus replied smugly. "Lord Galvatron, perhaps you should take the stick while Scourge and I disembark and clear the beach of these pathetic hostiles."

"Do it." Galvatron gave his assent as Cyclonus slid out of the pilot's seat and Galvatron slid into it. A moment later Cyclonus's sleek purple jet form and Scourge's blue and white stratocraft form cut through the blue sky toward the island ahead and opened fire on the human positions, obliterating them with ease. A couple minutes later Galvatron was putting the shuttle on the beach. "Alright Trepan, time to go reclaim our treasure from these shaved primates."

"Lead the way." Trepan said as he followed Galvatron away from the cockpit toward the passenger area where the ramp was already lowering to the ground.

Galvatron strode out onto the beach where Cyclonus and Scourge were picking off fleeing human soldiers. Scourge looked over toward the approaching Galvatron and Trepan and smiled. "They utilize radio waves to communicate over long distances."

"Simple animals. Perhaps they'll make entertaining pets." Galvatron spat. "You two keep the exterior secured, Trepan and I will go down to the submerged island." The purple legendary warlord nodded toward a rockface in the distance. "Jhiaxus had an access tunnel entrance over there if I remember correctly, let's go dig up his treasure." Trepan followed Galvatron to the area he indicated, and sure enough, they arrived upon an already exposed cave, tiny footprints and tire tracks made it clear that the humans had already made their way in.

After about a mile of walking through the dark tunnel, Trepan's fear of Galvatron subsided enough for him to ask a question that had been bothering him. "If there was no intelligent life on this planet a million years ago, why would Jhiaxus have made his artificial island at the bottom of the ocean?"

"He didn't." Galvatron grumbled. "He actually raised a section of the ocean floor to the surface of the ocean to make the island, keeping it aloft with seismic thrusters powered by a plasma energy chamber. Gallus had been planning on taking the command crew to the island to determine the viability of the Ferrotaxis, but, well, the Manifest was sabotaged, and we were dormant two thousand miles west of here for a million years. In that time, a bunch of Maximals led by some Convoys kept several groups of colonial Cybertronians from getting access to this island, including the Ferrotaxis. According to one of these Maximals that we took prisoner, roughly eleven and a half thousand years ago the last of these…Beast Wars, let's call them that, culminated in a battle on this island, and one of the Convoy sacrificed himself and the Predacon commander by destroying the plasma energy chamber, which subsequently stopped and damaged the Ferrotaxis and caused the island to sink."

"Which one, Big or Lio?" Trepan asked, genuinely intrigued to hear about the final fate of one of the last remaining Convoys. What had happened to Big Convoy and Lio Convoy was the biggest mystery for him as a young bot, well, the biggest after what had happened to The Manifest.

"Apparently a third." Galvatron replied. "A protoform rescued from the purge, kept in stasis for millions of years, and brought online here, on this planet."

"Convoys just keep springing up." Trepan chuckled.

"Deathsaurus was a corner-cutting fool." Galvatron grumbled, a hint of resentment in his voice. "If I had wanted a particular line wiped out, I'd have seen to it that the line was wiped out. But he was incompetent, and because of that we were kept from being rescued for over a million years, Jhiaxus's island is at the bottom of this shit ocean, our plans to expand our empire stagnated and our intent to make dozens of neo-Cybertrons stillborn. And then there's that fuck Orion Pax; had Saurus Onyx seen his job through to completion, that whelp never would have been born!"

Trepan was frightened of the darkening mood coming over Galvatron, so he decided to direct away from talk of Convoys and back toward more technical aspects of their task. "How much damage to the Ferrotaxis are we talking here?"

"The fish-guy used the term destroyed, but I think he was being optimistic." Galvatron smiled in the dark. "And I didn't want you to feel discouraged."

"I really do hope it's an exaggeration." Trepan stated as they saw light coming from up ahead. "As techy as I am, building a world rewriter from scratch is a bit outside my area of expertise."

"Shut up, I hear noises ahead." Galvatron snapped, but then a smile spread over his face. "I think the humans are going to be making a desperate last stand."

"Based on what I saw of their technology on the beach, desperate truly is the right way to describe it." Trepan added. "Though that said, I think I'll let you handle their removal."

"Open fire!" The human voice called out, according to the downloaded databanks the language was English, which seemed odd as the island they landed upon was the territory of the nation called Portugal. The dark hallway was suddenly alight with small explosions and the whipping of small metal projectiles that were deadly to organics but didn't even tickle Cybertronians. The rockets and small metal balls that exploded after being thrown toward he and Galvatron were damaging to his frame and caused him some distress, though Galvatron merely laughed it all off; a point one percenter with Matrix caliber enhancements had the luxury to disregard such danger, but Trepan dove to the side of the hallway to avoid most of the chaos.

"Look up, scientist," Galvatron laughingly called out to Trepan, "look up and observe greatness in action!" Galvatron raised his fusion cannon aimed it toward what appeared to be the source of the weapons fire.

"Wait!" Trepan called out. "We can't have you destroying anything that hasn't been already destroyed!"

"It's a low setting!" Galvatron snarled back. "I'm not an idiot, I'm not going full fusion against organic vermin!" A shot lanced out from his orange tube, and though it was dialed back, Trepan still shuddered at the blast that occurred just beyond the well-lit expanse ahead. "That'll shut them up for a bit." Galvatron then marched forward. "Wait here if you want, Trepan, I'll wipe away any flesh-bugs and tell you when it's safe for you." He chuckled cruelly as he walked forward, but Trepan didn't care.

"Galvatron!" Cyclonus's voice came through the speaker. "Autobot shuttles inbound. They performed a sub-orbital jump and came down on us from directly above."

"Kill them, or at least keep them busy!" Galvatron snapped back. "You're warriors, exhibit your mettle!"

"Yes, Lord Galvatron!" Scourge's voice came through right before the sound of weapons' fire, then the signal shut off.

"They'll do their duty." Galvatron looked back at Trepan as bullets once again started to bounce off his frame, causing him to smile.

"It is only the two of them out there, against however many Autobots." Trepan called out.

"They are warriors honed by a thousand battles!" Galvatron boasted as he marched into the expanse beyond and laughed down at the human resistance he saw. "Why bother fleshbags?" The hulking purple warrior taunted in English. "You would have no chance against Trepan were he in possession of the bearings to face you; against me, ha, I'll spend more time cleaning you off the floor than I will putting an end to your futures."

Trepan stood up and started walking toward the bright expanse, but heard a series of noises behind him, coming from the dark end of the tunnel that he and Galvatron had already traversed. Trepan turned and peered into the inky blackness, trying to make out what was causing the increasing noise, noise that seemed like quietly running engines approaching him. His optics were suddenly overwhelmed as four round orbs of piercing white light cut through the dark, and as he shielded his optics with his rising hand, the sounds of transformation and other high-speed shuffling was heard. A moment later he was being driven to the ground, and he looked up to see a form on him. His recovering optics made out a sleek but powerfully built mid-sized frame pinning him down, a light, likely yellow coloration, and a face…wow, he was beautiful. An angry sneer, but so, so hands… "Nighty-night shitbag!" He didn't see the punch. He'd been hit harder, but it wobbled him. The left side of Trepan's head was against the floor, his optics facing the bright expanse and Galvatron within, turning at the commotion as a red blur shot at him, transforming at an exceptional rate of speed and preparing a punch mid-air that was timed perfectly so that just as Galvatron turned fully around, the red and black robot landed his right fist perfectly against the legend's chin, sending Galvatron flying back. "Shit, that's Galvatron? Damnit, dickhead's gonna be crowing about this for weeks!"

"He won't live long enough to crow." Trepan muttered, getting the beauty's attention back on him and earning him a right cross that was agony, yet arousing. Why was this turning him on so slagging much? Suddenly the weight on him vanished, and he looked up to see the yellow robot standing and starting toward the red bot and Galvatron. Trepan turned his head to see a quickly recovered Galvatron swatting the red bot hard, sending him flying into wall near the entrance of the tunnel.

"Secure the prisoner, Sunstreaker!" A deep, familiar voice echoed through the tunnel, and a moment later a red human transport, or truck as they called it. Semi-truck seemed a more specialized and appropriate classification without getting too into the weeds, it shot past and rammed into Galvatron, but unlike the strike with the smaller red robot, Galvatron saw this coming and braced for it, catching the truck as it slammed into his mid-section and hurling it off to the side.

The truck transformed as it flew, finishing as it hit the ground and skidded to a stop, and Orion Pax, modified for his Earth form, stood, and squared up against Galvatron. "Welcome to Earth, traitor."

"My loyalties were never to that Honorum shit or his bullshit government." Galvatron barked back.

"Pretty sure they're not to Megatron either." Orion replied as Galvatron charged him and swung heavily, Orion barely moving aside to miss it and coming in for a counterpunch, but Galvatron swung back with his arm and shoved Orion forty feet away, sending him to the floor.

"I'd have whipped your ass the moment I climbed out of my birthpit; no enhancements needed." Galvatron snarled as he marched ominously toward the Autobot leader who was springing back to his feet. "But I've had enhancements. This latest," the hulking purple warrior chuckled, "let's just say Rossum truly outdid himself."

Orion smiled and nodded as a glowing orange energy axe replaced his right hand. "Yeah, you're right. You're a big, strong tough guy. I definitely shouldn't be fighting you fair." He suddenly ducked down and a barrage coming from the smaller red robot's rifle blasted against Galvatron's upper chest. Orion was instantly launching himself at the distracted Galvatron and buried his axe into the purple warlord's right clavicle.

"Ahhh, bastard!" Galvatron roared, pulling away and aimlessly firing a bolt from his fusion tube in the smaller red robot's general direction. The shot hit nothing important, but it did buy him a very brief respite from the assault.

"Come on, scumbag!" The yellow robot was wrenching Trepan back to his feet and dragging him down the dark tunnel as a half dozen other ground vehicles darted past them toward the fight in the expanse beyond. "Wow, big day, I think we're going to kill Galvatron today." He wrenched Trepan's arm savagely, something that once again aroused the sadistic scientist. "And I'm stuck here babysitting your ass!" The verbal abuse ended there, but the tugging, shoving and the occasional smack to the head continued as they made their way back to the surface, the sounds of battle loud and violent the entire way, but fading as they finally got to the surface and out the cave.

Trepan looked up as he was shoved out onto the beach, and saw five planes engaging Cyclonus and Scourge in the sky, apparently adopting a strategy that utilized their numerical superiority to maintain a low risk but effective way of keeping the two ancient fliers at bay. And should Cyclonus or Scourge attempt to initiate an attack, Autobot snipers on the beach kept those attacks from materializing. The yellow robot continued to shove him toward a shuttle on the beach. Two Autobots, a large red one with more than a little bit of wear and a mid-sized white one, broke away from the other snipers and met Trepan and his beautiful yellow captor at the entrance ramp. "Good catch, Sunstreaker." The predominantly white mid-sized Autobot said as he looked Trepan over.

"Whatever Jazz, this clown is just some bitchy nerd who gets off on getting slapped around." The yellow bot, Sunstreaker, said. "The real prize is back there with Pax, Swipe, Prowl and the others. Can you and Ironhide just secure this guy so I can get back down there and hopefully get a piece of purple scalp?"

Suddenly a blast erupted from the area of the cave mouth, and a heavily wounded Galvatron came stumbling out of the tree line and bushes, looking despondently at the Autobots arrayed on the beach and in the sky harassing his warriors. The three Autobots with Trepan immediately turned, drew their firearms, and unloaded on the battered Galvatron. The shots sent him stumbling back, but he gritted his teeth angrily and raised his fusion tube to return fire, but explosions detonated against his back, sending him flying face first to the sandy ground. Galvatron planted the mouth of his cannon against the ground and unloaded, launching himself into the air, and then using thrusters built into his frame he set out over the ocean.

The Autobots that had followed him out of the tunnel emerged and fired into the air after him. Cyclonus and Scourge cut and followed him, and as they drew near Cyclonus launched a cable that latched onto Galvatron, and the three shot straight up into the upper atmosphere.

"Permission to pursue, Commander Pax?" A voice came through the speakers of all the Autobots, and Orion Pax, stepping out onto the beach, raised his wrist as he glared at Trepan.

"From a distance Silverbolt and disengage if they exit the atmosphere." Pax replied. "Cyclonus and Scourge are built for orbital combat, the members of your team really aren't." The Autobot Commander marched straight toward Trepan and glared down at him. "Hello Trepan, Guardian Prime is going to want to talk to you."