By order of Megatron, no one, absolutely no one, was to mention that Kaon had fallen.
According to Megatron, it would only be demoralizing to the troops, given that Kaon was their greatest city and best stronghold up to now, and with the news of the planet's dying having already traveled the grapevine, this would be too great a blow. More likely, Megatron was unable to himself come to grips with the fact that he no longer held Kaon in the palm of his hand, that he had been defeated not by the Autobots or the treachery of spies or underlings seeking to usurp him for their own power, but by scraplets. Little, ravenous, mindless vermin, with neither the wit nor the ambition to have any stake in the outcome of the war, nor any awareness that their relentless search for living metal on which to feed was simply hastening the final death rattle of Cybertron. It was too humiliating for words.
Even so, at first Knock Out didn't really understand the value in pretending Kaon was still alive. However, at last forced from his safe haven out into 'the field,' Knock Out realized that hopes and dreams for Kaon was all that was keeping some of these poor saps in the trenches alive.
Some of them remembered the first great speeches Megatron (then Megatronus) had given in the Capitol. Some recalled the blueprints and plants for reforging Kaon into a glorious city, and imagined it was even now being built in that image. Many imagined that there were secret weapons under construction there, or that Kaon was a symbol of luck and that they could not lose so long as Kaon remained standing. The city had a mythology all its own, and it was central to keeping the Decepticons getting the worst of it at the front going.
Many were grievously crippled from old injuries that had never been repaired properly, suffering a variety of ailments due to energon deficiency, and knew that the only reward that lay ahead for them was to go offline in this war. They knew the planet was dying, but their belief in Megatron and Kaon, in rising from the Pit, was profound. It shook Knock Out, who had only ever paid lip service to these core beliefs, while in the main looking to eke out a means of survival. He knew Breakdown had a strong sense of loyalty and duty, but he had never seen it tested to the degree these soldiers had endured.
There was none of the pushing, shoving, clawing or backstabbing Knock Out had become accustomed to out here. These soldiers might not protect each other above living to fight another day, but they had a deep reverence for one of Knock Out's ability. He did not have to make a reputation or exact vengeance. What little they had, they shared, for they knew that a surgeon among them was a sacred thing, and keeping him nearby and safe would ensure their survival above anything else they might give up. They might run low on energon and lose the ability to maneuver, but a surgeon low on energon made mistakes and killed patients. Knock Out did not have to impress these facts on the front line fighters as he moved from base to base while Megatron's orders about where was safest to keep him continually changed. Of course, nowhere was safe.
Even so, here, at the end, Knock Out began to feel he was just starting to understand what it was all for. Over and over as he passed from base to base, doing such repairs as he was capable of, and cutting short the suffering of those who could not be saved, he replayed that final conversation with Bumblebee when the Prime and all those slaves escaped. He felt the answer lay somewhere in all this pain and devastation, the smoke-fed skies, killing fields fertilized with spilled energon, and the dreams of a lost Kaon that never was and now would never be.
It was here, somewhere, but Knock Out had no time to do any spark searching anymore. It was just from one place to the next, barely a moment to rest. In fact, camping between temporary havens was the best rest he got, as any camp or base had its wounded that needed seeing to. Knock Out enjoyed inflicting suffering when it suited him, but these noble Cybertronians who gave their all and which looked so old and broken, yet so strangely wise deserved better from him. From everyone.
For all of his experience and training and time spent, it was only now that Knock Out began to awaken to the real idea of what being a soldier actually was. If only he could also see to the other side of all this, and get even a glimpse of what would ultimately come of it. What future was being forged in this furnace? Or was it all simply being melted down to slag, with no future ever to emerge, only more death and suffering until there was nothing left?
Knock Out didn't know. He also felt strangely as if he'd made a mistake somewhere, a disastrous choice that would somehow send things spinning in the wrong direction for far too long. But he didn't know what the mistake was, or how to correct it, or what the right direction even was.
These soldiers with their many cycles of experience were certain of their allegiance, confident in the vision of their master, absolute believers in the cause. Who was Knock Out to doubt their faith?
But, if this went on much longer, there would be no faithful left. Just the cowards and the turncoats. All the best would be lost, their scrapped bodies left to rust. And then what?
Well, survive, he supposed. Go on. Neither heroes nor villains. Just survivors.
But to what purpose? To what end?
These questions became heavier and heavier, until he finally decided that they would simply drive him insane if he didn't put them away. Do his job as surgeon. Indulge in his craving for speed. Give himself over to his vanity. It was the only way to keep moving. To keep going on. To keep surviving.
Who needed to answer the big questions anyway? What difference would it make?
Finally, he found himself in the cramped bomb shelter of a primitive camp in the smoldering remains of what was once a besieged city, but which now had little value except what might possibly be scavenged from the ruins. He wondered if it was the one that had been so gossip-worthy back when he was just getting started in Shockwave's lab as an assistant, but he'd never asked the name of it.
He decided to ask the name of this one, to which an old soldier gave a long pause and then creakily replied, "Why, ain't you never heard of Tyger Pax? Wealthiest city on Cybertron, looked as good as it ever did until just a few cycles ago."
"What happened a few cycles ago?" Knock Out queried.
"Dunno. Autobots launched somethin', I guess. Whatever it was, it blew Tyger Pax to bits, and we've been fightin' Autobots on every inch of this ground for scraps ever since."
"Yes, well, value those scraps," Knock Out advised. "They're all that's left."
Breakdown gave Knock Out a warning nudge, but Knock Out hadn't been referring to Kaon.
"Ayep," the old soldier nodded. "So even shiny young fellas like you can feel 'er, huh?"
"Yes," Knock Out agreed softly. "Even shiny young fellows like me."
He did not added that probably only the dead couldn't feel it, and only because the dead no longer felt anything at all.
Bumblebee, of course, could have told Knock Out a very different story of Tyger Pax.
That 'something' the Autobots launched was the AllSpark, something impressed upon every Autobot that went on that mission as being very important if they didn't already know what it was. Unlike every other artifact they had collected and fought for, the very name of this one inspired a sense of awe. This, whatever it was, did not only contain the future of Cybertronians, it was the future.
Commonly, on missions of immense scale and import, soldiers were told only what they needed to know. Spies were uncommon, but not unheard of, but the real reason was to protect the Autobots themselves. If they were captured by the enemy, they had nothing to reveal. Optimus Prime could not spare them torture at Megatron's hands, but he could spare them from the terror that they might break and betray their fellow Autobots. In this rare context, the not knowing could lend them strength and calm to face the hand fate had dealt them. It also, of course, protected the Autobots they might otherwise betray, but it was always Bumblebee's impression that Prime valued both of these things equally, and so he kept knowledge of current missions as contained as possible.
Of necessity, however, Bumblebee knew what they were going for. The mission made scouts necessary, and there were precious few of those left. As a scout that reported directly to Optimus himself, Bumblebee was inherently part of the inner circle, because it would be vital that he know what he was scouting for, who would be on the mission, what their roles would be, what priority those roles held, where he could expect Decepticon interference to come from and how aggressively, and also what the likely run time of the mission would actually be.
The scouts were first in, deployed via Ground Bridge just a few miles from their ultimate destination. It was protocol to open Ground Bridges in sheltered, uncontested areas whenever possible, to prevent sending soldiers directly into an alerted enemy, or risking that enemy coming back through.
Driving headlights out, the scouts quickly parted company, each on a course of his own, marking the terrain, the enemy forces he encountered, and really just testing out whether or not he could make his final destination via that route. Behind them came the tech team, who would be responsible for the launch itself, and the Warriors to guard them. Optimus Prime himself was part of this unit. The last unit was the Wreckers, who were supposed to deploy only once everyone else was in position.
While the scouts made their way unnoticed, the tech team unfortunately would be likely to be spotted because of their sheer number, which is why every Warrior available was stuck on them and the scouts were on their own. Cliffjumper had predictably balked at this, because they were heading the most critical mission of the war into the very heart of darkness, following the exhaust fumes of a former Decepticon. But Optimus had told Cliff to have a bit more faith.
According to him, Bumblebee had proven himself in the field several times now. Both Cliff and Bee knew that was empty talk. Bumblebee had been on several missions, but nothing like so critical, and never with enough knowledge to do significant damage to the Autobot cause, never mind destroy it. One radio call out from him now and the entire Decepticon army would descend like a swarm.
Optimus Prime was in the open, on the move, and he was after the one thing that Megatron most did not want him to have. There weren't enough Wreckers and Warriors in the world to keep the entire Decepticon army at bay. There would certainly be Decepticons in the area, as Optimus predicted Megatron had also learned where the AllSpark was, but the Decepticons were prone to thinking they knew everything first and the Autobots knew anything never, so while they would be out in force today, it would not be a waiting ambush.
In fact, nobody knew precisely where the AllSpark lay just yet, only the vicinity. Finding its exact coordinates and relaying them would be a scout job. Their first job, really. And then it would be the job of the Wreckers to ensure the Decepticons never got close enough to know its exact location. Given an exact location, Megatron would Ground Bridge troops directly into the fray.
The entire war might be over today, with no one making it out alive.
Bumblebee himself had concerns regarding this launch, but he kept them to himself. He was a mere Scout, and not a particularly trusted one at that. Well, Optimus trusted him, but nobody else really did, even if they pretended otherwise because the 'Boss Bot' as Jazz called him, had said so. Bumblebee actually appreciated Cliff's unfailing honesty on that count. Even for a Prime, Cliff couldn't keep his mouth shut when he had an opinion on something.
So Bumblebee drove out into the eternal night of Cybertron, and was startled when he found lights up ahead. He'd been told Tyger Pax still operated as a city, but it hadn't struck him what that meant.
Towering buildings lit up the night, twisting and ornate spires reached for the heavens. There was an audible thrum from the city, which he felt under the smooth road as much as picked up with audio receptors. The city had power. How on Cybertron had it survived? Bumblebee had absolutely no idea.
He slowed as he drew near, intimidated by the brightness of the city, the shine of it. He had never seen a city that wasn't half in ruins, and it was awe inspiring. Belatedly, he flicked on his headlights, so that he blended in with the place. There were Cybertronians here, driving hither and thither, seemingly conducting business on street corners, living as if in an age gone by.
But the cracks soon showed to the alert Scout, who had been warned to watch for them. The ordinariness was only veneer. Darting optics landed suspiciously on anything new or seemingly out of place. Concealed firearms lay ever at the ready to turn the seemingly peaceful streets into a bloodbath at the slightest indication of anything amiss. The business on the streets was Decepticon and Autobot spies, trading information with each other or civilians. Unaligned mercenaries were the main traffic, looking for the highest bidder for their services. A few idle rich employed these mercenaries to keep them protected while they lived the last of their days in false splendor, pretending that the past had never died and that the future lay forever ahead of them.
Driving through Tyger Pax and on to his destination in search of the exact location of the AllSpark, Bumblebee felt a strange chill come over him, like his spark was being slowly encased in ice. He had the deep sense that something very bad was about to happen here in this city.
And it was going to happen to him.