A/N: My thanks to lonegamer8 for a set of height numbers. ;) Disclaimer: Several lines of dialogue have been borrowed from both the '86 animated movie and the '07 movie. Italicized, and I take no credit for writing them.

Reunions - Part Nine

Prowl assessed the battlefield and determined that each side was evenly matched. Astrotrain had yet to make a move other than drifting higher or lower than the Ark, remaining on the side closest to the moon. Despite being outnumbered his teammates were holding their own, as expected. Bluestreak aided via the ship's guns with perfect timing. Prowl was beginning to regret being so harsh with him, but for now there was no convincing him that Thundercracker had truly given up his Decepticon heritage. He kept waiting for the inevitable betrayal.

The Combaticons had made no move toward forming Bruticus. It made sense to keep their unit separate, giving them more maneuverability and covering a wider area. However, the longer the battle went on, the more Prowl felt like he was missing a piece. While he would never admit defeat, he could not ignore the possibility his team would lose. Even just adding Astrotrain into the fire fight would be their undoing. As he followed after Onslaught, shooting nonstop, he pondered the chances of cornering one of the Decepticons long enough to demand an explanation.

Onslaught turned suddenly. Prowl's speed brought him right to the Combaticon, but he immediately twisted to avoid being shot. Onslaught did not fire, instead grabbing Prowl's weapon arm. He hissed from the heat of the barrel, but drew Prowl in close and wrapped his other arm around the Autobot's neck, trapping him. Prowl attempted to free himself, at the same time throwing a scan out over the battlefield to see if anyone could aid him. He found that each of his warriors were similarly captured.

There was a great roaring sound of engines flaring to life. Yet it was not from Astrotrain. Prowl jerked his head far enough to see the glow coming from the back of the Ark as the ship broke from its stationary orbit. "No! Bluestreak, what are you doing?!"

A crackle came over the group comm frequency. "My apologies, but Bluestreak has retired from duty. This is the new captain, Skywarp. The Ark shall now proceed to its next destination."

Prowl struggled violently. Onslaught squeezed his weapon arm, cracking something. Prowl ignored the pain and internal alert. From elsewhere came another, louder crack -- to his right. He looked to see that Inferno had freed himself from Vortex and Gutcruncher, and was flying full speed toward one of the side airlocks, cannon raised to blast right through the door to get in faster.

Ramjet flew to intercept him. Prowl shuttered his optics, knowing what would happen next. His processor raced to devise a way out of the situation, taking into account which Decepticons were holding who, and which individual strengths could be used against their respective captors. The speed of the Ark, the percentage of Skywarp's possible knowledge of the Ark's functions, the probability of Bluestreak still being alive.

The probability of Thundercracker helping them, betraying them, or assisting neither side.

All this he weighed and judged in the space of the second it took for the most immovable Autobot to hit head-on with the most solidly-armored aerospace fighter in the Decepticon army.

Inferno lost.

Prowl sought for more factors. Why had they not attacked in this manner from the start? They could have easily captured the Ark with these numbers. Was Thundercracker just a distraction? Was he a focal point for Skywarp to teleport to?

Onslaught suddenly tightened his arm around Prowl's neck. "Calculating, Prowl? I am certain you are enjoying a conundrum such as this. Unfortunately, you cannot process the full spectrum of events. There is more occurring on that little organic planet that you Autobots thought you could run to, and you will never be able to process why. I advise you to remain still and observe."

"Are you going to use this opportunity to terminate us?" Prowl asked while trying to free his weapon arm. "You had chased us through eight systems before that storm in the Pandorae Nebula. I knew there was no certainty your ship was destroyed. Now you have us. With the Ark in your hands, we are of no use. Why not complete your function?!"

Onslaught chuckled. "Do you have a wish to be terminated? Are you unwilling to make another stand? You disappoint me, Prowl. I thought you might have been able to set up a better defense plan with the remaining scraps of your unit. What is it that occurred? Have you lost your morale?" Onslaught laughed as Prowl went completely still. "Ah, see. You Autobots have lost everything, your dream of Cybertron returned to its glory crushed. We Decepticons, however, are not concerning ourselves with a dead planet. There is much more to the universe than a lost cause."

"How can you not have any qualms about abandoning the planet that gave you life? You would not exist without Cybertron!"

"I outlived it. It proved that its time was mortal! It was not a god, and neither was the Allspark. To most of the inhabitants of the universe we are gods!"

Prowl seethed, murmuring, "How humble of you. Is that all you aspire to? I remember a different course, long ago..."

Without preamble Onslaught ignited a blade of searing light on his left wrist. He yanked it across Prowl's throat. "Enough of that." The Autobot instinctively thrashed, having the urge to grab the wound and suppress the damaged plates and cables, to halt the globs of mech fluid that drifted away. Onslaught kept Prowl's arms trapped. "Alas, not as long lasting as Megatron could have dealt, but you will not forget this moment, will you?" He turned slightly. "Look. The Ark is going to make its voyage in a timely manner."

Prowl tried to override the warnings from his neck servos and relays. He had survived worse wounds. But without a backup plan in motion he was susceptible to Onslaught's psychological tactics. What he saw made him start thrashing all over again. Sunlight gleamed off of the Ark's bow as the ship sailed out of the moon's shadow.

Optimus knew the jig was up. No one was going to miss a robot that was between forty and fifty feet tall. He had sent Ratchet to cordon off the area, siren as loud as it could go. He hoped it would act as a signal to the humans to stay away and that the situation was being handled by the proper authorities. He suddenly wished he hadn't let Bumblebee take a year's leave so he would have both another warrior and a human liaison on the scene. As it was, he didn't want to have either Bumblebee or Sam come racing into the hot zone right that moment.

Fortunately, Menasor hadn't broken out any weaponry yet. He seemed content with smashing everything in sight: every pile of junk, every tree, every Autobot. So far, he had zero count on the Autobots, in part because everyone had withdrawn to the front of the base. One of the elevator entrances had been uncovered, but Broadcast was on it the nanosecond the security alert came through the line, sealing it with the secondary emergency door that was too thick for Menasor to punch through.

The Decepticon had switched to grabbing small piles of junk, crushing them into one solid mass between his hands, and flinging it at the Autobots. None of the improvised projectiles made it to their line since those they could shoot at with results.

Arcee, standing in the middle to have clear aim with her bow, was running battle scenarios through her processor. She shared her opinions over the secure group line. "He is toying with us. Ratchet said they were after the key to the Ark. What does that mean, Prime?"

"It has something to do with Perceptor. Ratchet did not give me all of the details," Optimus replied.

"Why didn't you order him to tell you?" Arcee asked, taking out another flying lump of compacted car parts.

"Because I rarely need to. He has his projects and I trust him with building anything he sees fit to make."

"Assuming Ratchet is correct and they want this key, what is Menasor's goal? Dirge has left the area, and now we are merely being inconvenienced. Menasor cannot reach the key -- or anything else for that matter -- with this tactic." Arcee lowered her bow and began peering carefully around.

Moonracer picked up on the other femme's search. "Are you thinking there is someone else with them who will try to sneak past while we are distracted?"

Huffer lifted one of the surviving projectiles that had made it close to them and stayed intact. "There is no way except through us."

"Precisely," Arcee said. "Prime, we need to find a way to end this. This location could be surrounded by humans any time now and we cannot wait for Tracks, or Ironhide and Chromia to arrive."

Optimus gave her a sideways glance. "Do we have a choice? Ratchet and I are no match for a gestalt. If we can hold out long enough, Ironhide and Chromia would even the odds. The only way is brute force due to their shielding."

Huffer "harumphed" and lobbed the junk projectile at Menasor's right leg. The Decepticon drew the leg back but it barely unbalanced him. "Get me twenty more of those and I might be able to do something about him. If I throw really fast."

Arcee looked Menasor over, scanning for weak spots. "Perhaps if we try distracting them so that they will fight each other, we might accomplish something." She cast a half-smirk toward Huffer. "Who would like to start a round of provoke-the-Stunticon?"

Broadcast continued to monitor the goings-on outside using the backup equipment that was in the shielded back chamber. He had decided to make that his priority rather than grill Perceptor about the key. The scientist was doing his share by analyzing the data on the Stunticons that Ratchet had sent him. Broadcast was currently focused on the outer perimeter, tracking Ratchet's progress. The medic had not one, but five holographic humans in various law uniforms, waving back those in the neighborhood who had become curious enough to try to find out what the noise was. Ratchet kept convincing people that it was only a test of some special effects for a movie that might be filmed in the town -- providing that the residents respected this private test. It seemed to be working. Broadcast figured it was only a matter of time before some clever teenager found a way to sneak in.

Or some helicopters or small planes flew over.

"Heads up at eleven o'clock," he warned the bots outside, "Sounds like a plane is going to do a fly-by to check things out." He amended the mistake he had made with Dirge and Motormaster, and searched the Web for recordings of different planes to confirm if it was the genuine article. Out loud, he exclaimed, "What the ...?!"

Perceptor stared at him. "May I inquire as to the meaning of that epithet?"

Broadcast gave him a sheepish look. "I don't really know, but the humans use it as an exclamation of extreme confusion. Or outrage. It just seemed fittin'."

"What is the cause for your confusion and/or outrage?"

"Accordin' to the 'Net, the plane I'm hearin' is way too old to be operational. Humans had a couple of Great Wars themselves, an' this is one'a their air fighters, but it's decades obsolete. My surprise is that it's operational and about to buzz our base!"

Perceptor became thoughtful and also accessed the Internet. Broadcast switched back to the group line. "I don't know what it's about, but you might see an A-20 Havoc any second now." He sent an image to them all to help visualize. "I'm not gettin' any Cybertron readin's from it, so it might be some crazy human instead'a another 'Con. Be careful, anyway."

"I see it," Ratchet commed. "This will either make my words more convincing, or undo my progress. Humans defy logic and are too nosy for their own good."

Outside, Arcee had targeted the plane just in case it turned out to be a Decepticon trick. The holes in the craft's nose began to spew bullets toward Menasor's head. The Decepticon roared and clutched at the protrusions on either side. Arcee saw smoke rising and then picked up on the minute impact points. "This appears improbable, but he is susceptible to the human machine's weapons. Perhaps their projectiles are too small, and do not register to their shielding like our weapons do."

"Let's hope he stays on our side," Broadcast replied over the line. "I'll try to make contact with the pilot." He began to look up the frequencies the old plane could receive when something else caught his attention. "Man, if I hear one more weird sound today I think I'm gonna blow a circuit." He tilted his head, slowly turning away from the console.

"Would the equipment not be better suited to amplifying this sound in order for you to locate its source more accurately?" Perceptor peered over, wondering why Broadcast was staring hard at him, then turned as he realized the comms officer was focused on the wall several feet behind him.

The antennae array on Broadcast's head raised, pointing toward the wall. "You hear that?"

Perceptor increased his audio input strength. "If I could be enlightened as to what category 'that' could be placed into?"

"It's a--" Broadcast moved closer to the wall. "A--" He went up to the wall and touched his antennae array to it. "A...drill? Yeah. Sounds like a drill. But there ain't nothin' that's supposed to be strong enough to cut through these walls."

"I conclude that you are discerning their effort to dig through the compacted soil and stone located outside of the wall. They will be thwarted when they arrive at the wall itself."

"Question is, who's they an' where did they start diggin' from? How'd we miss 'em? How'd I miss 'em?!" Broadcast stepped back, feeling over the tips of his antennae with one hand. He paused. "It stopped. Didn't sound like they were that close to the wall yet. I'd say the misdirection field confused 'em, but it shoulda kept 'em from gettin' this close in the first place."

Just before Perceptor could make a reply, Broadcast raised a hand for silence. His antennae twitched and he looked up at a ceiling vent, mumbling, "This just ain't our day."

The vent cover exploded off with a gray and brown form following after. Broadcast dove aside to avoid being crushed, but then his foot caught on something; or rather, by something. He was lifted into the air where he was able to get an upside-down view of the invader -- as it snapped at his face.

Broadcast combined human epithets. Perceptor formed up his cannon but as he took aim, the six-legged creature swung Broadcast into the line of fire. Its four eyes lit up and it let out a series of low screeches that sounded like it was chuckling. It had caught the comms officer in a three-pronged pincher and now waved the tip of its multi-bladed tail at Broadcast, threatening to skewer him. It pointed at Perceptor with its other pincher. The scientist lowered his cannon and began to back up. The creature screeched angrily, pointing again. Perceptor froze.

Broadcast crossed his arms, glaring at his captor. "They coulda at least reprogrammed you to speak an actual language. I mean, even I can translate the sonar words of the Au'Forthririell, but you ain't even tryin', Scorpy."

The metal scorpion ignored him, keeping his other pincher leveled on Perceptor, who was calculating the time it took to fully charge his weapon, his own foot speed, and the distance between himself and Scorponok's right side versus the distance between Broadcast and the right side, with how long it would take the Decepticon to turn in that direction. "What is it that you want, villain?!" Perceptor demanded. "We have nothing of value to you!"

The lower section of Scorponok's face separated and moved in indication of a mouth, but no words came out.

"You're takin' too long to answer." Broadcast smirked. Rhythm and Blues sprang from his back, transforming on the way. Blues grabbed the strut they had been attached to while Rhythm climbed up to Broadcast's captured foot and began tugging on the pinchers. When he did not have immediate success, Blues flipped upward to help him.

Scorponok made an annoyed sound and thrust his tail forward. Broadcast swung himself up out of the way. "Now!"

Perceptor fired on the Decepticon. Scorponok shielded his eyes with his extra plating, but the blast threw him backward. Broadcast went flying with him. With his concentration broken, Rhythm and Blues lost their holds. The comm officer twisted so that when Scorponok hit the wall, his free foot slammed against the Decepticon's face. Broadcast had hoped the move would convince his captor to let go, but instead it encouraged the dangerous tail to take a stab at him. Broadcast took a chance and grabbed the tip. When it yanked upward, Broadcast was pulled free of the pincher.

"All right!" he cried as he let go and turned in the air, landing clear of the scorpion. Rhythm and Blues scrambled toward their keeper and took their place on his back again. "Cover your receptors, Perceptor!" Broadcast planted his feet and raised his arms, the back of his forearms facing Scorponok. His hands clenched tight while mechanisms formed up into his speakers. The strut holding Rhythm and Blues split and came forward under his arms. "Look out an' shout, OW!" Rock music issued forth, supplemented by a concussive wave of subharmonics.

Scorponok screeched in annoyance again and took a swing at the smaller mech with his tail. Broadcast danced out of reach, calling to Perceptor, "I forgot he used to run with Blackout. No wonder he's so addled, after havin' to deal with Mister EMP Blast himself." The tail stabbed down again, barely missing. Broadcast grabbed the end and hung on as Scorponok swung it around to dislodge him. Eventually the scorpion gave up and brought Broadcast level with his head, screeching into his face. The comms officer smirked. "Now don't you know better than that? Like any sound is gonna bother me."

Rhythm and Blues transformed again and hopped onto Scorponok's neck, grabbing the armor that would shield his optics. The LED screen on Broadcast's chest showed an increase in volume, edging up to one hundred decibels. Then the screen went blank, only to flash a multitude of colors at a blinding brightness a second later. Scorponok hissed and bucked, trying to throw off Rhythm and Blues.

A voice that was more like air passing through vents than an actual vocal processor rasped, "Wretched Autobot!"

"He speaks!" Broadcast proclaimed in a taunting tone. "Next thing you know he'll--"

He was thrown into the wall, immediately followed by Rhythm and Blues as Scorponok transformed to robot mode. While he looked like a column with sharp sickles sticking out in front and the pinchers appearing top-heavy, he was still agile. He darted toward Perceptor and had the scientist's arms pinned before he could fire a shot. Perceptor struggled to get his secondary weapon formed from his shoulder, but Scorponok scurried around him like a centipede, pushing down plating that tried to move. He latched onto Perceptor's head and began to pull at the armor in the back and along the right side, on down to his shoulder and backside. "Remove yourself from my person!" Perceptor cried, grabbing at the Decepticon and tugging at the stabbing legs, to no avail.

Scorponok finally pried enough plates loose to get to the inner housing. He ripped out cables, wires, and various hardware, causing Perceptor to spasm. Then Scorponok removed a large microchip in the shape of the Autobot emblem. The Decepticon screeched with glee and leaped off of the sparking scientist. Perceptor crashed to the ground, unmoving. Scorponok grabbed onto the wall and climbed up to another vent. Broadcast had regained his feet just as the Decepticon slithered inside.

The comms officer directed Rhythm and Blues over, clasping his hands palms upward in front of him to give them each a boost upward. They weren't strong enough to pull him up, but they might be able to detain Scorponok before he escaped. Broadcast touched his antennae array to the wall, trying to track and direct what he could not see.

That had not been just any old chip Scorponok had stolen from Perceptor.

It truly did look like a scene out of a movie. Menasor was throwing his arms through the air trying to catch the plane that kept avoiding his attempts. The Autobots and two humans were harrying him with taunts and little guns and returning the favor of thrown junk. The distractions were aggravating the individual Stunticons to the point where Menasor began talking to himself out loud -- in separate vocal tones.

Powerglide had not transformed when he took a respite earlier, landing to let Lennox and Banachek out. The men had told Optimus there was an explanation, but obviously had to wait. They had brought several helpful weapons with them, and the plan was to distract Menasor enough to weaken his shielding so a few Sabot rounds could be fired. That assault would likely lead to the Stunticons separating, and the Autobots were prepared to jump on the individuals and knock them out fast.

Banachek retreated to the overhang of the garage doorway, happily laying waste to Breakdown's finish. Lennox was to his right, looking up in search of a good opening around Menasor's arms. He had seen that a combined Cybertronian didn't have the same armor arrangement as a single mech so his preferred tactic was moot.

He whirled to the right when he heard a clatter and saw a large vent cover go bouncing across the grass, followed by someone calling out, "Come here, Decepticon punk!"

"Jazz?" Will whispered. He slipped toward the side wall, leaning out slowly to make sure it wasn't a trap. He saw Scorponok being assaulted by two identical mechs that couldn't have been even half of Lennox's height. They shared a little resemblance to Jazz in looks, and shared more in courage.

Will stepped clear of the wall and strode forward. "Mind if I have a word with this one, boys?" With dark visors over their optics he couldn't tell if they even looked at him, but they jumped clear fast enough. "Hey, Scorponok!" Will leveled his Sabot launcher as the Decepticon turned. "This is for Fig and Donnelly!!"

There was no doubting Scorponok's status this time as the rounds slammed home.

One of the miniature mechs went diving into the conflagration. Will watched, shocked. "Wait, no!" He set down the launcher and ran to see what had caused the small Autobot to risk such a thing. The other one had simply collapsed on the dirt under the vent. Lennox waved away the smoke, yet before he came within four feet of the shrapnel that was Scorponok, the minimech emerged -- armor hot from the intense heat but intact and triumphantly holding up something. Lennox gazed at the blackening Autobot emblem, his stomach twisting at a possible misjudgment.

Aboard the Ark, Skywarp stared in disbelief at a message on the main monitor. "No! They would never--!!" He slammed his fists on the console. "Why? WHY!" He spun and kicked the offline Bluestreak in the side. "Idiots!" He opened a commline to Onslaught. "The mission is a failure. The signal from the key went down. This piece of scrap is worthless!"

"Not completely. It is still useful to them. We must do something about that."

"Heheheh. Affirmative."

Onslaught bellowed his next order over the entire unit's line. "Astrotrain! Full throttle! Push that floating rust barge toward its new next destination!"

Not included in the comm, Prowl only had Onslaught's body language to go by to tell that something was going on. The Combaticon leader released him long enough to thrust one arm to the right of the moon. The whine of engines other than the Ark's started up. Astrotrain was on the move.

Skywarp abruptly appeared beside Onslaught, grumbling, "So long, traitor."

Prowl watched the Ark move fully out of the moon's shadow and begin to turn to go around the planetoid. Astrotrain let it pass him, then he followed, ramming it. Prowl traced the possible trajectories. They hadn't aimed it toward the moon. Astrotrain rammed it again. It soon cleared the moon and then turned again. Astrotrain switched to pushing. Past the moon.

Prowl knew what lay beyond the moon. "No!" He redoubled his efforts to escape. How he wished Inferno was conscious.

The minimech collapsed at Lennox's feet, the emblem tumbling from its hand. Will made to catch it, but fumbled when it burned his fingers. He took off the flight jacket borrowed from Banachek and scooped it up. The Autobot symbol burned into the leather but didn't go through far enough to burn him again. He turned it over and tried to inspect it without leaning too close. Charred wires stuck out from the back and empty I/O ports were on its side edges, leading him to conclude it had been removed from inside something. He shifted it a little more. In the process it seemed one of the wires found a hole in the jacket because he felt a tiny jolt.

For a split second he thought he saw a blue sheen flush across the emblem's surface. Then infinitesimal movements began to occur. Will risked lifting it closer to his face. Ever so tiny, but still visible panels were moving. The blackened ones disappeared, replaced by gleaming red ones.

A faint sound beyond where he stood reached his ears. He jerked his head up, realizing he had gotten caught up in watching the amazing thing in his hands. He had completely let his guard down. There was no one around except the two small, unmoving Autobots. Yet he found that he could not resist watching the emblem until it finished regenerating itself. Throughout the process the faint sound repeated several times.

"...'Til all are one..."

To Be Continued