Australia. The fifth continent. The only place on this planet that was a country, an island and a continent.
Rodimus Prime looked around the hot, silent landscape, amazed at the difference in fauna and flora as compared to Nevada. It was even more remote than anything he had seen on this planet before and so easy for Decepticons to lay low undercover. It had been sheer dumb luck to get a ping off them, mainly because when the shuttle with the new-arrivals had come in, something had popped up on their radar.
Within hours the Earth-Cybertronian team had come to Australia and set up camp. The locals had told stories of strange beasts in the night, of mysterious sounds, of their own disappearing.
Rodimus had been pleasantly surprised by the welcoming and open reception his kind had been given by the Aborigines. The Australian natives made up part of the human contingent working with the Autobots, and some had even accompanied his two reconnaissance mechs. They knew the area, they could read tracks, they knew where the strange sightings had been. Their leader, Charles Barina, had taken the mech's comparatively huge size in a stride, not asked many questions, but the looks had told Rodimus that despite the alienness of his appearance, Barina seemed to see something familiar in him. He would look into the matter when they had dealt with the latest Decepticon insertion.
Walking back into the shade of the base's topside hangar, Rodimus nodded at the soldiers already stationed here. With the Ark near completion, Nevada, Yuma and Arctic, the arrival of more forces, Optimus had had the luxury of assigning his men to the different places.
The Ark was another matter. It was mostly running on automatic, but there would be a military addition. With artificial gravity and air, humans could live there. Perceptor's addition to the Constructicons had yielded positive results. He was already designing the interface unit for the human satellites and Blaster was in constant contact with Stark and the design team on Earth. Two more weeks, they estimated, then the defense net would be active.
Steps alerted him to the arrival of their tactician and he nodded at Prowl as the other mech joined him. It was strange to suddenly have such a powerful standing among the Autobot forces. It was something he was still adjusting to – with sometimes occurring difficulties. He was a Prime, no one could argue with that, but how easily his position had been accepted and how easily the much older mechs referred to him as a Prime had thrown him a little.
"Nothing so far," Prowl reported briskly.
"They are here," Rodimus replied.
He could almost feel it. But why? What were they doing? They were hiding well, had done so for more days than the Autobots had been looking for them.
"Do you want me to join the others?"
Rodimus shook his head. "Not yet."
Prowl accepted the brief answer and scanned the surroundings, then walked over to where the C-17 was still being unloaded. He and Captain Burns had had their differences already over how matters had been handled so far and Rodimus had to smile a little as he remembered Prowl's complaints. Burns was an officer shaped by the experience of the past years, trained by Epps and, to some great part, by Lennox. It showed.
Prowl would blow a few more fuses until they could get their acts together.
Lieutenant Monash, their Australian liaison, had been shuttling back and forth between the new base and Perth. Blades had been his personal transport and while the Protectobot had complained that he was a taxi service, Rodimus had had little trouble with him. He had talked to him privately and laid out the facts. Either Blades followed orders and did his job, or he returned to Nevada.
Blades had chosen Australia.
Monash was expected back from Perth this evening and Rodimus had scheduled a briefing for the allied forces. He felt a little itchy. He wanted to be out there, too, looking for the apparent Decepticon forces, but he had a different job now. He was a Prime.
Feeling a sigh rise he suppressed it. His heritage had changed a lot for him, not all for the better. He actually missed Tony. He missed the snark and the wit and the long night hours of sitting in the workshop, watching him tinker, watching his agile mind come up with new and creative ways of executing a program or a design. He missed the banter, the verbal sparring… yeah, he missed the human. Things had quieted down around him in that regard; he was treated differently. Tony had had no such problems. Roddy was Roddy and he would never give him more respect than before, or less.
Damn, he was falling into one of those moods, he realized. Brooding and too much thinking going on.
"Rodimus Prime?"
The voice drew him out of his thoughts and he looked down at Captain Burns. "Yes, Captain?"
And it was back to military procedures, supply lists and organization. It kept his mind off other things, that was for sure.
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Aboard the Ark, Perceptor had started to feel a lot more at home than he had in the many different places of his life in the past millennia. With the near-destruction of Cybertron and the subsequent decline of the planet's habital places, Perceptor hadn't thought all too long about leaving. The prospect of finding his friends, of finding their leader who had gone missing so long ago together with the Allspark, had weighed more than the expectation of finding survivors among the ruins. Some had stayed back, believing in the survival, in rebuilding a dying world, but Perceptor knew the facts. He was logical about this.
The Allspark was gone. Without the Allspark there would be no more life, no more new sparks. The Allspark had sustained their home and with its absence, decline had set in – more rapidly due to the devastating effects of the final battles. Cybertron had burned, but Perceptor didn't believe that anything new would rise from its ashes.
Wheeljack had been such a believer and it had been in one of the ruins that they had parted ways. Perceptor had joined Blaster, Jolt and Blade, and they had taken one of the few remaining, functional shuttles to look for Optimus Prime. Wheeljack had remained behind, taking care of the survivors, trying to rebuild a small haven of safety in the ruins of West Port.
Pulling himself out of his thoughts of the past, Perceptor concentrated on his task at hand. It felt good to work like this again, to ponder complicated mechanical and engineering problems, to see success and feel something other than fear of attacks or the need to rewire a weapon to blow up an enemy ship.
Sure, he was building a defense station, but not in a time of war and under pressure. This was a project he could be proud of.
There was a mutter that sounded like a curse in old Cybertronian and he briefly looked up, feeling a sliver of amusement as he watched Hook put the finishing touches to his own project. Mixmaster was towering behind him, looking like he wanted to strangle the other Constructicon as Hook berated him on how he had handled one of the programming glitches.
Perceptor had had little difficulty working with the five Constructicons. Like all new-arrivals he had been briefed on what had happened, how Scrapper's team had come to work for the Autobots, and like almost all he knew the Constructicons from Cybertron's past. He had met them a long time before Optimus had become the new Prime, before Megatron had been the Lord Protector. Perceptor had been very young back then, very impressionable, and he still remembered his awe.
That awe had remained and despite the fact that Scrapper and the others had suffered what humans would call brain damage due to Shockwave's Modulator, they were still brilliant and far above every engineer or mechanic Perceptor knew. His own abilities were overshadowed by theirs, but he didn't mind. It was a learning experience and he learned a lot.
The Ark had made progress in the past few days and was now running at eighty percent efficiency. The moment Perceptor was finished with the last connections he was working on and could start his program, the ninety percent level would be reached.
There was a hum from behind him, followed by the unmistakable crow of success from Hook. Perceptor looked over and had to bite back a smile as he saw Mixmaster's smug expression.
"Told you," the massive Constructicon said.
Hook gave him a baleful look, which glanced off the other mech, and demonstratively turned back to his station. Scavenger, who had just walked inside, looked amused. He came over to Perceptor, giving him a nod as a greeting.
"Scrapper just ran another check. Everything's holding just fine. How are the satellites doing?"
"Fifty percent checked and in working order," Perceptor replied. "Mr. Stark sent me a few more programs to look over. He is very… intense."
Humans were a complicated riddle to Perceptor and his interaction with them had been minimal. Tony Stark was the one he most often talked to, mainly because of the Stark Industries satellite drones, and he had spoken to one or two soldiers at Nevada. That had been it. Inter-species communication wasn't his strong point; he would rather spend all the time in his lab than make small talk with another species, allies or no allies.
"He thinks the same of you," Scavenger replied easily. "Tony's one of the few humans who understands our technology as well as we do, and he works with the hybrid systems almost exclusively. His understanding of the station is by far the most complete from all humans involved in the Ark project."
Perceptor nodded. "I understand. I just wish he didn't want to be informed of every small change I make to the drones."
"They are his design, Perceptor. As scientists we understand how that can lead to proprietary feelings of that magnitude."
Perceptor shifted a little. "Well, yes."
"Just humor him sometimes. Don't take everything too seriously."
"Humans are hard for me to understand," the Autobot confessed.
Scavenger chuckled. "I felt the same in the beginning. I have the advantage of years of email contact with Tony and spending a lot more time on this planet than all of you, Perceptor."
Perceptor knew that, had to accept that. When he was done with what was required for him to do on the Ark he would have to delve deeper into getting to know their allies. For now the interaction was minimal and he could wing it, so to speak. Hopefully.
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At this time of the year Australia was a very hot affair, especially in the middle of the desert landscape, without air-conditioning or other amenities of 'civilization'. Shade was provided by the scraggly trees that grew in this area and throughout the midday heat there was hardly any visible life. Insects buzzed around, about the only sound audible right now. The rocky terrain with its small hills, crippled trees, rustling grass and hidden watering holes appeared like one of the most isolated and arid places on Earth.
Sideswipe had never felt so free, so at peace with himself, than the past weeks on the Australian continent.
Prowl's arrival four months ago had both closed a chapter and opened a new book. His twin brother was lost, but no one could confirm his death. It was hope. It was something he could live with, without destroying himself mentally. He had come to accept the situation and the fact that he couldn't change it, so he had volunteered for this mission. While Rodimus Prime was at the base, overlooking the final insertion into the world wide net of Autobot-human alliance and cooperation, he and Jolt were fine-combing the last area the Decepticons had been seen in.
Hunting Decepticons was liberating. It was what kept him going. It was his purpose. He and Sunstreaker had been the terror of the Autobot ranks. Not because of their pranks, but because of their ruthlessness when taking out the enemy. The pranks had been their way of letting go, unwinding, of connecting with the others - even if the others mostly wanted to off-line them for their antics.
Sideswipe watched the native animals in the distance, aware of the humans close by as they rested until the heat of midday was over. His own systems struggled with the merciless sun sometimes and he was glad they weren't bounding over the rough terrain any more. It was devastating to his chassis.
Jolt had talked to the humans' leader, who had in turn talked to his people as they met them on the road, and it was clear that the Decepticons were still around. There had been reports about strange lights in the desert and frightening noises. Two tour jeeps who had carted adventurous campers into the outback, had returned with very frightened men who had claimed they had seen a giant cat with glowing red eyes. By now, two days later, it was ridiculed as a prank, but one of the old men of the native Australians had spoken about more animal shapes, gigantic and frightening. Sideswipe had yet to really understand what the Aborigines meant with the Dreamtime, but apparently they believed the things in the desert were ancient spirits.
Decepticons were ancient compared to humans, but far from gods or spirits. Last night they had nearly had them, but the fraggers were fast. And they left little to no traces. Their human scouts weren't deterred by it.
"Any idea who we're chasing?" Sideswipe asked his fellow Autobot as Jolt approached.
"No. Animal shapes? Could be Soundwave's symbiotes, but who knows? Looks like whoever came here, they've been around for months. For what reason, no clue. They're trying to scare off the humans, but they never showed more of themselves. Sneaky."
"There's mines in the area," one of the humans said, looking up from his lunch, some kind of fire-roasted reptile.
"What kind of mines?" Jolt wanted to know.
"Rare earths and uranium. They were abandoned when the mines at Olympic Dam yielded more uranium. It's hot and unpleasant most of the time, and in the past many men left after only a brief visit." The man shrugged as if to say that this was the way it simply was. "Cost too much. The land is without mercy to the ill-prepared and the uranium too hard to mine. It's easier to get to at Olympic Dam. Today we never go there. A big wound in the desert."
Sideswipe had yet to understand the Aborigine culture, but they were very much connected to their believes and mysticism. For them, the planet was a living organism, which it was, in a way, and it suffered wounds from what humans did to it.
"How far to the mines?" he wanted to know.
"On foot, a day. With you, less," the man, Natan, no 'h', Sideswipe remembered replied. "You want to go there, wait till dusk."
Jolt didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded his consent. Both mechs had learned to listen to their scouts. Temperatures were incredible this time of the year.
They settled down in the meager shade, their systems working hard to cool their cores, and they waited. The scouts were drowsing off, still alert, Sideswipe knew, but resting. He did the same, powering down redundant systems, and dozing a little.
tbc...