XXII - Alpha, Omega II

I swore beneath my vocalizer and stamped a pede on the greyish, powdery surface of the moon. "A rock orbiting a larger rock?!"

Knock Out glanced at me, "You're the one with the controller. And for the record, it's called gravity." His tone dripped with sarcasm.

I mentally chastised myself. "I know that! I was referring to the fact that once the Nemesis is out of the remote's range," my grip on it tightened as he tried to pry it from my grasp, "we will be stranded here."

"I would be, but you… you can fly, or did you forget?" He gave up on his attempt to tried to wipe moon dust off his pedes and legs to no avail, squealing. "Ugh, this stuff's everywhere! It's times like this when I need Breakdown back. He was quite the maestro behind a rotary buffer!"

My optics narrowed, annoyed at the medic's audacious display of vanity at a time like this. "Yes, I could, and become a flaming meteor!" I snapped. His faceplates were dubious. "It's called atmosphere, doctor." I sneered. But he was right to some degree: I had a much better chance at surviving than he did if Megatron's warship drifted out of reach.

The red mech stood upright again, reluctantly abandoning the futile effort to scrape the accumulating dust off his shins. I glanced down at my own and saw with a small surge of satisfaction that they looked as clean as ever, if not very shiny. The benefits of having a silver paint job while surrounded by grey dust, I thought smugly.

Knock Out noticed this as well with a quiet snarl over the comm link, "Stop dawdling, we need to get back aboard the warship."

My voice was an octave higher than it had been before, "Why?"

He looked at me like I had lost it. "Apologies, commander, I didn't realize that you wanted to remain here and rust." I rolled my optics, knowing the latter wasn't possible up here.

"I'd rather take my chances flying back to Earth than aboard that slagging ship again…" I muttered, shaking my helm and absently kicked a small moon rock. It went flying up in a large, slow parabola then sank down back to the moon's surface as if underwater, landing in a slow motion puff of grey dust. The low gravity, I realized, feeling stupid.

"Your performance earlier had Megatron fooled." He crossed his arms.

My tone grew icy, "But we can't just cavort around up there and expect everything to go right!"

"It's not like we have much of a choice!" The medic shot back.

I hurled the ground bridge remote at him, "Then go without me!"

He caught it, staring at me in shock, and opened a bridge. After a final backward glance, he ran through it as I panted heavily, not having moved an inch but my emotions roiling in my tank. I glared at the bridge as it closed.

The Autobots stood around in their base, grinning like fools at each other after relaying the news to Ratchet, who hadn't been there to witness Optimus receive the message from Alpha Trion. Bulkhead stomped a pede on the floor of the Autobot base, "Pack your gear! We're going back to Cybertron!"

[I can't believe it!] Bumblebee exclaimed, bubbling with energy.

Ratchet laughed, "Well believe it now, Bumblebee! Civilization at last…"

Smokescreen was the least enthusiastic of the group, "But I just got here, and Earth's pretty cool so far."

The green mech couldn't hold himself still, "I can't wait to tell Miko!"

Arcee's smile slowly fell, shadows deepening on her faceplates. "And… Jack," she added slowly.

Bumblebee whirled sadly, [And Raf.]

Smokescreen ignored them and strode over to the Prime, looking skeptical. "Optimus, keys open doors. Can they really revive an entire planet?"

Optimus seemed hopeful, "While I am unfamiliar with the lore of the Omega Keys, my former mentor knew many secrets. Time shall tell."

"I wish Cliff were here to see this. We've come so far." Arcee said softly in a wistful tone, staring up at one of the lights overhead with a bittersweet look in her optics.

"And Scream," Bulkhead added somberly.

[Don't forget Seven and Knock Out.] Bumblebee added hopefully.

Ratchet tried to smile at them but it faltered, "They at least have a chance of coming back…"

Smokescreen snorted, "Sev looked like he'd blown a gasket to me."

Optimus steered the conversation back on course, "Whatever the Keys' function, this much is certain: we cannot restore Cybertron without all four Omega Keys in our possession."

"Which means we can't afford to lose a single one to Megatron," Arcee reasoned, taking a light sip from an energon cube.

"But we are at a grave disadvantage, not having the coordinates to their precise locations at our disposal." The Prime frowned. "Rather, they lie in the servos of our enemies."

"But we know who has direct access to their coordinates." Ratchet said vaguely, hope dawning on his features.

"Who?" Everyone else asked in unison.

"Seven."

An audial-splitting screech rent the formerly silent air, save for the quiet intakes of the two large mechs standing alone in the darkness. A single, unwavering beam of light from a flashlight held by Dreadwing was their only guide. The door before them boomed as it shuddered open, a millennia worth of rust caking its mechanisms. Megatron and Dreadwing stepped inside, the flashlight beam falling on a large, intricately carved stone casket.

"A tomb?" The blue Seeker swung the flashlight around the dark, musty room in mild surprise.

"One known to hold the remains of Primes," Megatron smirked. "Please tell me you are not adverse to desecration."

The blue Seeker took a moment to respond, "It is just that being in such a place evokes powerful emotions, considering the fate of my twin."

"Then you should delight in our purpose here," Megatron fixed his gaze back upon the casket, "to exact our revenge of Skyquake, and of all our fallen brethren." With a roar, Dreadwing dragged the heavy lid off, and Megatron's sword slid out of its place on his arm.

I didn't know how long I had remained on the moon's surface, wandering aimlessly around its smaller craters. But Primus, it was hot. I'd switched on all my fans to help combat the heat, but still was panting. The Nemesis still drifted lazily overhead, but I didn't bother opening my comm, instead, allowed my thoughts to carry me farther than the ship could. I transformed and was forced to focus on controlling my ailerons and thruster more than anything else, given the unfamiliar sensation of not having cool air whipping past my wings and the lessened tug of the moon's gravity. I ended up overestimating my speed and shot past the Nemesis. I suddenly was met with the massive space bridge floating right in front of me, but this time it was active. The swirling green portal seemed to draw me right into its depths.

Then none other than Megatron and his present first lieutenant, Dreadwing, flew out of the swirling portal in their alt modes, mere specks of black against the vast whirlpool of swirling green and white energy tinged with violet hues. They both must have seen me, as they began to accelerate.

I whirled back around and blasted my thruster until I crashed headlong into the warship's flight deck. I grit my denta as the bottom of my fuselage acquired numerous scrapes from the rough collision, but made no move to slow my skid. I didn't want to hurt myself by transforming. I wanted to look like scrap, not actually become it. I needed a ticket to the med bay, to talk to Knock Out.

The pair transformed and landed in front of me. I made a big show of being in pain, groaning and lying still, my chassis and wings rigid. Megatron held a large burgundy arm in his grip, it almost resembled Optimus'. But it had more beveled edges and instead of blue being its secondary color, gold was, however, was just as large as the Prime's.

"Dreadwing, go monitor Soundwave's progress on Project: Iacon." The silver mech ordered. I saw a flicker of movement in my peripherals as the blue Seeker marched off purposefully in the direction of the bridge. "Starscream," he began, turning his attention to me. "You have an uncanny knack for injuring yourself. How might this have happened?"

"One of my many talents," I muttered, getting to my pedes and pretending to wince. "I, ah, was hit by a small asteroid." I offered with a nervous smile, trying to make it sound plausible.

His mouth plates twitched. There was no way he believed me. "I would not be taking you to dear Knock Out if it were not paramount for me as well, am I clear?"

"Crystal, my liege." I snarled between gritted denta. "Does it have anything to do with that?" I jerked my helm at the arm in his grasp.

He glanced down at it, "Your observational skills have perhaps shown some improvement."

It was my turn to smile.

A minute or so later, we made it to the med bay. I staggered away from Megatron and leaned against the wall, watching as he opened the door with a five-digit passcode on a keypad. I was still wary, knowing anything about the warlord, he would have something sinister up his sleeve.

Knock Out did a double take when we entered. "My liege," he nodded at the warlord, "Se–" he caught himself, "Starscream, you just love being spoiled, don't you?"

"No more than you adore slaving over your paint," I jibed.

"You know where your spot is. It's always reserved for you, you know." The red medic shot back with a roll of his optics. I collapsed gratefully onto the all-too-familiar surface of "my" med berth. Not looking at me, the warlord reclined on the other berth. I squirmed nervously.

"Knock Out, if you would ever so kindly replace my right arm with this?" The large silver mech commanded, and held up the arm still clutched in his servo. My optics widened and I snapped upright, forgetting about my "injuries" for a moment.

The medic swallowed, "Yes, I can do it, Lord Megatron. If you're certain that's what you really want. I shall induce stasis–"

"No! I wish to bear witness when you attach my new appendage," he rumbled.

Knock Out reluctantly conceded to him, frowning. He offered me an apologetic look and transformed out a circular saw. It began to whine shrilly as its serrated edge quickly became a blur. He brought it down onto Megatron's elbow and it screeched ever louder, its teeth biting into the metal. The warlord squeezed his optics shut and clenched his denta, entire chassis rigid until the blade cut all the way through.

I stretched my legs and arm, glad to no longer have a reason to keep acting, but was as stiff as the berth I had laid on. I rolled my shoulders and my cocked helm from side to side, flapping my large wings and buffeted Knock Out, who stood behind me.

"Do you mind?!" He snapped.

I shook myself, "And this is why you do not have wings."

"I like the way I look in steel-belted radials," he smirked.

I rolled my optics, "Oh, like we haven't heard that one before."

He abruptly changed the subject, a new gleam in his optics. "Did you see what I did to Megatron?"

"Yes…?"

The medic smirked devilishly, "Oh, it's nothing complex. That arm is ancient, you know, and I think I forgot to oil some of the joints."

I smirked along with him, "He'll never be able to keep up with Optimus in battle, now will he?"

"Not since I've had a say in things."

A loud clang rang out as Megatron brought the Forge of Solus Prime down onto the purple blade of a massive sword. He dropped the Forge beside him, mostly for effect. "It is done." He picked up the blade in his right servo, the one that he recently had replaced with that of a Prime's. Dreadwing spoke up from behind him, pulling the warlord out of his reverie.

"My Lord, as per your command, I noted Soundwave's progress on Project: Iacon."

"And?" Megatron asked, turning to face his second with the sword still in his servo.

If the blue Seeker was unnerved by the large purple blade, he did not show it. "It appears that the final four relics are more important than the rest, as their coordinates are far more heavily encrypted."

"With my Dark Star Saber," the warlord tilted his massive blade so its keen edge caught the light on its wicked, cruel points along the sides, "we are closer than ever before to retrieving the last of the relics. Tell Soundwave to work swiftly, for our enemies could already be on the move."

With a silent nod, Dreadwing turned and strode purposefully out of the room.

Cords of rain fell out of the sky, taut with the planet below until they burst into a hundred miniscule droplets impacting the ground. Arcee stood in the midst of it outside of the Autobot base, alone in the downpour with the enriched Tox-En before her pedes. Ratchet had meticulously extracted the cure from it hours earlier, and the innocent-looking glass vial laid next to the poisonous energon on the muddy ground.

The blue femme stared at the solid grey sky, "Cliff, if you're out there, this is for you." And she picked up the cure, weighing it in her fist before hurling it out of sight. "And Scream, you too." She then transformed out her blasters and fired at the enriched Tox-En until it melted into its own little sickly green puddle of slag, seeping into the earth as the unrelenting rain drummed against it.