Lunar Spark Part 1
Cybertron, Ruins of Iacon
Hotrod quickly jumped behind cover, avoiding energon blasts from a decepticon vehicon. Once the shots missed their mark or impacted the piece of rubble, he shot from cover and fired three blasts at his attacker.
One missed, but the other two found their mark on the decepticon's chest plate. The first burnt a hole through its chest, and the other struck home in the spark chamber. The vehicon fell over as two more took its place.
Hotrod again took cover to avoid the incoming fire. Several volleys later, the young Autobot decided he had had enough. "All right, you slaggers," he shouts, transforming one of his arm cannons into a blade. "You want a piece of me. Come and get it."
He jumped out from the rubble and fired several blasts from his other arm cannon. Surprised by the sudden action, both decepticon warriors back away, avoiding the shots while trying to shoot the charging autoboot.
None of their shots hit, and Hotrod was able to close the distance between him and his opponents. He brought his blade down on one of the vehicons.
It tried to dodge the attack or parry it with its own arm blade. Hotrod really couldn't tell. Either way, it was too slow, and a deep gash was cut across its chest plate. The decepticon warrior staggered back. As it did, Hotrod swung out his arm cannon and fired. The vehicon's head simply exploded, sending sparks and metal flying everywhere.
The other vehicon was a bit quicker and transformed both cannons into blades and swung at Hotrod. The autoboot responded by transforming his other arm into a blade, meeting the decepticon in a brief melee.
The vehicon proved to be no match for Hotrod, though. After a couple of seconds of clashing blades with the mindless drone, he took advantage of an opening and swung one of his blades upwards. Half a second later, sparks and a severed arm went flying into the air. In the same motion, Hotrod plunged his other blade into the chest plate of his opponent.
Sharpened metal cut through metal, eventually breaching into the spark chamber. The vehicon stiffened as the light from its visor flickered briefly before going dark.
Hotrod pulled the blade out, a fresh coat of blue staining it. The vehicon fell over, sparkless. "Wow, you guys are bad," he commented. "Megatron really needs to get some better minions if he hopes to win this war."
Just as he was saying that two energon blasts struck him in the back. The young Autobot fell over. He caught himself with one of his arms and twisted around, transforming his free arm into a cannon. He fired at his attacker.
His shots missed, with only one clipping the approaching vehicon on the shoulder. "Frag," Hotrod cursed under his breath.
The vehicon took aim with one of its arm cannons. Several twin bolts of energon burned through its chest, sending the drone flying to the ground. Half a second later, he heard running footsteps approaching him.
He saw a hand come into his field of vision. Hotrod looked up to see a familiar yellow and black autobot. "What have I told you about getting in over your head, little brother?" Bumblebee said.
Hotrod smiled and took his brother's hand. He was pulled back to his feet. "You know me," he said with a smirk. "I like it when things get up close and personal." To emphasize his point, he transformed both his hands into blades.
Bumblebee rolled his optics. "Come on, we got a convoy to protect," he said, transforming into his vehicle mod.
Hotrod did the same. "Right behind you, bro."
Both autoboot brothers drove off, intending to join up with the rest of the convoy. With the brief lull in the fighting, Hotrod could get a good look at the ruined city streets.
He had heard tales of how Iacon used to be. How it was the crowning jewel of Cybertronian civilization. Its streets paved in platinum, and its crystal-lined spires stretched out into the sky. Art, science, and history were its greatest achievements, weaved together in a breathtaking tapestry.
Hotrod, as a young sparkling, had dreamed of seeing that city. But like so much of Cybertron, thousands of years of war had turned it into little more than burnt-out ruins.
He and his brother had dreamed of seeing this city, seeing it at its prime. But now they were driving through its streets, Hotrod was left with an empty bitter feeling.
Bumblebee seemed to pick up his brother's thoughts. "I know how you feel, Hotrod," he said as they turned the corner. The sounds of fighting could be heard, and they were getting closer. "I wanted to see Iacon too. But not like this."
Hotrod remained silent for a moment. Something that was unusual for him. "Do you think we'll ever be able to rebuild?" He asked. "That one-day Iacon will be as the stories told us?" Both he and Bumblebee had been born into this war. They had grown up on the stories of a Cybertron before the war, before it was turned into a dying world.
A dead world, Hotrod mentally corrected himself. Cybertron is dead now. Megatron had seen to that.
"One day," Bumblebee said after a moment of thought. But Hotrod could hear the doubt in his brother's voice. "But before that, we need to make sure that our mission succeeds."
Hotrod mentally nodded at his brother. Cybertron was dead, but a small flicker of hope still existed for its people. While he hated the idea they had to abandon Cybertron, Hotrod understood that Optimus Prime's plan would secure a future for the Cybertronian people.
The pair of brothers drove around a corner. Bring them into sight of a battle. On one side, several Autobots fought to protect large crates loaded on power frames. Crates that are packed to the brim with energon.
On the other side, more than a dozen vehicons pressed the attack. Neither brother said anything as they agreed on their next course of action.
Both autobots speed up across the street. About halfway to the convoy, they transformed, breaking into a run. Arms transformed, and the two brothers rained down energon blast after energon blast on the cons.
Taken by surprise, several of the vehicons were downed by the sudden flanking attack. The rest slowly back away, dividing their fire between the two groups of autobots. Continuing their attack, Bumblebee and Hotrod joined up with the rest of the defending autobots.
"It's about time you showed up," one autoboot said. "Those cons were about to overrun us when you showed up."
Hotrod cracked a smile at the mech. "You know us. We like to show at just the right time."
"Where are the other patrol groups?" Bumblebee asked.
"We don't know," another autobot answered. "We lost contact with them a while ago. More than likely, they got taken out by the cons."
"For a moment, we thought you might have suffered the same fate," a large framed autoboot said, firing a giant cannon.
Bumblebee nodded at the others. "Then where's the transport?" He asked, ducking under some cover, avoiding an energon blast. "This is the rendezvous point, isn't it?"
"The transport is-" A femme started off. She was cut off when an energon blast struck her square in the chest. She fell to the ground as the light in her optics faded.
"Scrap!" Hotrod said he fired at the offending decepticon. Several hits to its spark chamber saw that it joined its victim.
More vehicons were filling into the area. "Where is that transport?" Bumblebee almost shouted. "We can't hold this position for long."
Looking around, Hotrod noted that his older brother was right. The femme wasn't the only autobot dead littering the street. As though to provide an answer, the defenders heard the roar of an engine, and a dark shadow was cast over them.
Hotrod and several others looked up, seeing a transport ship with the Autobot insignia descending on them. "There's the transport."
Then suddenly, their comms came to life. "This is autobot transport 157. We are coming in for transport. What is your statues and the statues of the cargo?"
"Transport 157," Bumblebee answered. "We have the cargo but are about to be overrun by the decepticons. I repeat we are about to be overrun. We have several causalities and cannot hold for long. Requesting immediate transport."
The transport landed behind them. "Request granted," the bay doors swung open with a half dozen autoboot soldiers charging out to join the battle. "Get the cargo loaded, and we'll get you out of here."
Bumblebee nodded. "You heard the mech," he shouted over the roar of the battle. "Get that cargo loaded, and we can get out of this mess."
"Rodger," everyone shouted.
Hotrod didn't know how they did it with so much fire coming their way. But they manage to get the energon onto the transport and everyone else. Though not before two more of their number were offlined by the approaching cons, and one time a blast almost hit the containers.
The bay doors were not fully shut before the transport flew into the air. Almost throwing Hotrod and several others to the ground. The faint sounds of energon blasts hitting the hull could be heard.
Once the sounds faded, Hotrod let out a breath as he fell to the floor. "Primus, that was close," he said.
The others gave their agreements. "The decepticons didn't want us getting our hands on the energon," Bumblebee said. "They were even willing to destroy it to keep it out of our hands."
Hotrod let out a low growl. "Damn the cons," he said, hitting the side of the transport with a curled fist. "Didn't they know if even one blast hit the energon, they would have been scrap metal too?"
"I don't think they care at this point," Bumblebee said. "The cons are just as exhausted and depleted as we are. It's possible that they care more about hurting us than themselves."
"Not to mention, our attackers were all vehicons," an autoboot said. "Those things are as disposable as they come."
Hotrod held back a grimace. It always seemed like the cons had an endless supply of those things and were more than willing to throw them away.
He saw his older brother staring at him with a concerned look. He always did seem to pick up on his thoughts. "I hope that Prime's plan works," Hotrod said allowed. "And perhaps this war can finally end," he thought.
Outside, the transport autobot and decepticon forces continued to clash across the city.
Sol system, orbit over Luna, UNS. Armstrong:
Jack was woken up by the chime of his quarter's alarm. "The time is now 05:00."
The browned hair young man suppressed a low moan and sat up in his bed. For one reason or another, he felt a heat source next to him. He sat there for what felt like several minutes letting the fog of sleep clear from his mind.
Something shifted next to him. Jack turned his head over and smiled at what he saw. The sleeping and shirtless form of his boyfriend, Conner. So that was the heat source he felt. Jack continued to study the man next to him.
Like always, he was perhaps the most handsome man he had seen in his life. Locks of black hair flowed past his ears in a tangled mess. Usually, it would be better kept. Jack could not say witch he preferred.
His boyfriend was in the Marines, and his body showed it. Jack lightly glided his fingers across Connor's muscles so as not to disturb his sleep. Jack loved how firm they were and how smooth they felt to the touch.
He did frown a little when seeing the number of braises and scars on his body, the life of a marine. His finger continued to trail across the other man's body. Until it reached his waistline. That was about when his expression became confused.
Jack lifted the covers for a second to confirm something in his mind. A blush quickly covered his face as he threw the cover back down. The covers were the only thing that was, well, covering him. Both of them. He looked over the floor, seeing articles of clothing haphazardly placed around.
Flashes of memories rushed back into his mind. "Oh right," Jack thought to himself as the realization dawned on him. Me and Conner got off duty. And we decided to have some time together. At the time, he was thinking more about a makeout session and cuddling. It seemed they had gone a bit further than that. Not the first time it had happened.
"The time is 05:01," a voice chimed.
Jack sighed. Leave it to the computer to ruin a good moment. Jack was about to throw the cover off and wake Conner. Then he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around under his arms. Then a chin nestled in the crook of his shoulder. "Do we really have to get up?" Connor said in a tired voice.
Jack smiled and leaned his head in on Conner's. "I'm afraid we do," he said.
A low groan escaped from his boyfriend's lips. "Can't we just lay back down and go back to sleep? Or maybe just spend some time together?" To punctuate his point, Conner places a wet kiss on the base of Jack's neck.
Jack shivered at the touch of his boyfriend's cold lips on his skin. His blush returned in a small shade of red. It really was tempting. But training and constant drills in the military pushed that desire to the side. Plus, he didn't want to get a dressing down from his superiors. He already got enough of that from them, for his actions.
"Tempting as that is," Jack said. "I'm afraid I'm going have to say no."
For the second time that morning, his boyfriend let out a disappointed groan. "All right," he said like a little child denied their favorite treat. He rubbed his chin up against Jack's shoulder. "Can we at least stay here like this for a moment or two?"
Jack pressed his lips together. It was hard to deny Conner's request. Even if the computer disagreed.
"The time is 05:04."
"Just for a few," Jack said. "Oh, and," he looked up at the ceiling directing his gaze at where he thought the camera was. "Confirmed," he said to silence the annoying alarm.
He knew that Conner was smiling. Jack didn't have to turn his head to see that. He could feel it in the way his body shifted next to his. "Thanks," he said. "We don't get to do this often. So, I want to enjoy every moment we can get," his voice sounded happy. But Jack could hear the edge in his voice, no matter how well he hid it. The war took its toll, even far from the frontlines.
They remained liked for what like hours, sitting together on the bed. Conner had his arms wrapped around him and holding onto him like he was more precious than life itself. And Jack enjoyed his warm presence, the way he could feel his boyfriend's strong and steady heartbeat on his back. It was all so nice. Jack wished moments like this could last forever.
But it was not to be. "So, do you have any idea what your duty assignment will be today?" Conner asked.
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," Jack answered. "Maybe a fighter patrol?" He suggested, a slight frown forming on his lips.
Conner hummed. "That sounds nice," he said, leaning his head on Jack's neck.
Jack's frown tightens. Boring was more like it. Nothing ever happened on patrol around Luna or the space around it. The same old dust clouds, hunks of rock, and maybe. Maybe! The occasional smuggler trying to get through.
It irked Jack that he was essentially sitting here and doing nothing. He was one of the best pilots in his class in the academy, even outflying some of the instructors. He should be on the frontlines helping to push back the forces of the League. He should be dogfighting with the League's finest. Instead, he was here protecting Earth's moon. Far away from the war.
Conner picked up his thoughts. He didn't know if he was projecting his thoughts through his body language or if his boyfriend was some kind of mind reader. "Protecting Luna is important. If the League manages to take it, they'll have a straight shot at Earth."
Yea, not like they'll have to break the stalemate in the belt or breach past Mars, first. He knew that Luna was an important posting to some prestigious. Not quite protecting Earth, but close to it. To Jack, it was monotonous.
"I know that," Jack said, turning his head to look at Conner. "But you know me. I want to be where the action is. Sure, Luna is important. But I want to be out there," he gestured widely with his right arm. "Fighting against the tyrannical forces of the League. I was one of the best pilots in my class. Hell, I might even be one of the best in the UNS. But I can't prove that if I'm stuck babysitting some large lump of rock orbiting Earth."
Conner was smiling at him. But it was tight, like he was forcing it. "I know that. But," he trailed off, his voice sounding shaky. Like he was trying to think of something or trying not to. "Trust me, the front is not as glamorous as the news makes it out to be."
Jake wanted to slap himself. Conner had spent two years on the frontlines fighting against the League. His mind went back to the scars and bruises on Conner's body. Lord knows what kind of things the man has seen. "I'm sorry," Jack apologized. He turned over in the bed to face Conner. "I wasn't trying to. I mean, I didn't mean to."
Conner stopped his yammering by placing a finger on his lips. "It's all right. You were only speaking your mind. That is one of the things I like about you," he leaned in, kissing him on the lips. "What matters now is that we're together again," he placed his head on Jack's shoulder.
Jack wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wrapped his arms around Conner, bringing him closer into an embrace. "I am sorry," Jack whispered lowly.
Conner hummed. "It's okay," he pulled away from Jack, looking him in the eyes. Jack could honestly get lost staring into those grey orbs. "Just remember you don't have to prove yourself. In time people will see what a great man you are, not for whose son you are. Just be patient."
Jack smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks," he said, feeling a burning sensation in his cheeks. Then a slight frown tugged at his lips. "Do you ever want to talk about it?"
Conner frowned and looked away from Jack. He stared off at the wall, but it was easy to tell his gaze was directed at something past it. Jack was about to resend his question when Conner spoke softly. "Maybe one day. But not right now."
Jack nodded, knowing to drop the subject. He looked over at the clock to see what the time was. They would have to hurry.
Jack got up from the bed and bent down to pick up his clothes. "Come, we got to get to our duty assignments," he was stopped when he felt his arm being pulled.
Jack looked back to see that his boyfriend had grabbed onto him and was blushing. "Do you want to have a," he trailed off as the red in his cheeks darkened. "Have a quick moment? Just a few minutes?"
It didn't take Jack long to realize what Conner meant. He blushed, matching his boyfriend's shade of red. "In the shower," he said. They wouldn't necessarily come out cleaner than they came in. But they did have to get on with their day, and Jack didn't want to deny his boyfriend's request.
Conner gave him a bright smile. "I love you."
Jack returned the smile. "Love you too."
Cybertron, sector 124, loading bay of the Autobot ship Ark
Hotrod let out a sigh of relief as the transport landed in the massive loading bay of the Ark. The transport's doors opened, allowing its occupants and cargo to file out.
In the distance, he could hear the roar of battle. It seemed the cons had found the location of their ship. "Primus, how long have we been fighting?" He asked.
A nearby Autobot, a massive mech, answered. "Several cycles now," he said. "I don't know how they found us. But when they did, they launched a massive offensive against us. I've heard they breach the second defense line and are pushing the third back."
Scarp, that wasn't good. "I hope the other transports make it back quickly," Bumblebee said. "If what you said is true, then we won't be able to hold out for long."
Hotrod pounds a fist into his hand. "Don't talk like that, Bee," he said with an excited grin. "Let us loose out there, and we'll have those cons packing."
The other autoboot shook his head. "No can do," he said. "Prime wants to see you both."
Hotrod's optics widened. "The big man himself wants to see us?" He asked, surprised that Optimus Prime wanted to see him and his brother. "What for?"
The large mech shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't know," he said. "Just go see him and ask him for yourself. He's on the bridge overseeing the final preparations."
Hotrod and Bumblebee nodded at the mech and walked away. "Can't you believe this?" Hotrod said, swinging an arm around Bee's neck. "We get to meet THE Optimus Prime. Can you believe it?" Hotrod was beyond excited. They were about to meet the leader of the Autobots. The mech had been leading them against Megatron's forces since the beginning of the war.
Never in his wildest dreams did Hotrod think he would meet the guy. Well, he had dreamed about it. But he never thought it would become a reality.
The young autobot was almost jumping in excitement. In contrast, his older brother was calmly walking beside him. "Try not to get too excited little bro," he said with a small chuckle. "It could easily be nothing."
Hotrod rolled his optics. Leave it to his brother to dampen the mood. "Come on, Bee. Aren't you the least bit excited to meet the Last of the Primes?" Hotrod said.
"Apparently not as excited as you," Bee said as they stepped into a lift.
Bridge of the Ark
Optimus Prime stared out at the battle raging below. After so many mega-cycles, never had he felt the weight of the war so heavy on his spark. "Megatron," he said solemnly. "Why did you have to let your ambitions consume you? Can't you see what it has done to our home?" He asked no one in particular.
But he still got an answer. "I don't think you can reason with him anymore, Orion," very few would call him by that name. He turned around to see that a pink femme was standing behind him.
"Elita," he said.
His mate smiled at him. She walked up to him and placed a hand on his face plate. "Megatron made his choices a long time ago," she said. "There was nothing that you or I could have done."
Optimus looked back out at the battle outside. He knew his friend and mate was right. Megatron had made his decision a long time ago. He had made peace with that fact a long time ago. But that did not stop him from trying to get through to his old friend. To bring back a once honorable meche to the side of good.
He turned away from the sight and faced the femme autobot. "I'm sure you came to me for something else. Other than remise about the past," he said in a formal tone.
Elita nodded. "That last of the transports arrived at the landing bay," she said.
Optimus nodded. "Good," he said, walking down to the center of the Ark's bridge. "How many does that make?"
He noted the moment of hesitation in Aleita's voice. "Only four made it back, Prime," she said. While the report came out as clean and crisp. Optimus knew his mate well enough to detect the faint trace of sadness in the tone.
A moment of remorse had gripped his spark chamber as well. They had sent out wave after wave of transports across Cybertron to retrieve as much energon as possible. The last wave sent out had dozens in it. "Were there any survivors from the transports that did not make it?" He asked. He stopped in front of a terminal showing a tactical projection of the Ark and the battle raging around it.
Again, Elita hesitated. "A few," she said. "But we lost contact with all others."
Optimus remained silent as he gazed at the projection. The third line was starting to crumble. So many lives lost in this war. How many more would be lost before it finally ended? "Jazz," he said, getting the attention of his communications officer. "Order our forces to withdraw back to the Ark and begin take-off procedures. The moment that everyone is onboard, we launch," there was little time to waste. The Decepticons knew about their location and, more than likely, their plans.
"Got you, big man," Jazz said.
"Elita, what is the status of the fleet?" He asked.
"Still engage with the Decepticons," Elita reported. "But from what I can gather from Ultra Magnus, they won't be able to hold out for much longer."
"Then our departure from Cybertron will have to be quick," Optimus said. "Tell Magnus that we'll be departing soon."
Elita nodded and walked off to carry out her orders. It was around this time that two young meches walked out of the turbo lift doors.
One was yellow and black. The other is red and orange. Both looked around the bridge in awe. "So, this is where the magic happens," the Red and Orange mech said, walking through the bridge and taking a long look at everything.
He got a nod from the yellow mech. "I never thought I would set foot here," he said. "Let alone meeting," then his optics caught sight of Optimus, and he froze up. "Optimus Prime," he finished his statement.
The red and orange meche took notice of his companion's state and looked over at Optimus. He froze up too. "Optimus Prime," he muttered.
Optimus had to suppress a smile at seeing the two meche's reaction. He remembered how he acted when he first found himself before the Council of the Primes. Prime walked over to the stunned Autobots.
Seeing him approach, both stood at attention. "Optimus Prime, sir," the red and orange meche said. "Umm, uuhh? Hot- Hotrod and?" The now-named Hotrod stumbled over his words.
Thankfully for him, his friend finished for him. "And Bumblebee reporting as you requested."
"Yea, what he said," Hotrod said.
"At ease, soldiers," Optimus said. Both meches looked at each other and then back at him. They relaxed their posture, though they still looked apprehensive to be around him. "I understand that you arrived on one of the transports."
Bumblebee nod. "Yes, sir," he said. "Our transport just got here. We tried to get as much energon back as we could. But the cons. I mean, the Decepticons kept pursuing us every step of the way. I'm afraid we only got the thing half full."
"No need to apologize," Optimus said. "Any amount of energon is better than nothing."
"Understood, sir," the young autoboot said. "Not a lot of us made it back," Bumblebee remained silent for a moment, seemingly thinking something over. "Prime if I may be allowed to ask a question."
Optimus scanned the meche over, seeing that whatever his question was, it weighed heavily on him. "Go ahead," he said. "But please just call me Optimus."
"Prim, ahh? Optimus, sir. What is the status of the other transports?" Bumblebee said. "I know others were sent out on the same mission. My brother and I were wondering if they had made it back yet?" The other autobot, Hotrod, nodded.
"Yea, it would be nice to know if anyone else made it back," Hotrod said.
Brothers? So, the reports he had read on the two were true. He knew the two Autobots standing in front of him were something rare. Natural-born Cybertronians. But he had not been sure if he should believe they were brothers.
He looked over the two brothers, seeing their looks of concern. And the pain hidden underneath. His spark ached, knowing these two had been born in a time of war. These two should have been raised in a time of peace when they could have grown up without fear for their lives. Not in a time that could very well be described as the end times of Cybertron.
"I'm afraid your transport was the last one to arrive," he said.
Sadness and grief spread across the faces of both autobots. "The last one to arrive," Bumblebee repeated. "The others, they're gone. Aren't they?"
Optimus gave a slow nod of his head. "Damn the cons to the pits," Hotrod said, balling his hands into fists. "How much more are they going to take? How many more lives will they take before they have had enough?"
"Brother," Bumblebee said.
That seemed to snap the young autoboot out of his anger. He looked between his brother and Optimus. "Sorry, Optimus," Hotrod said, looking abashed.
Optimus gave the young meche a slow nod. "No need to apologize," he said. "A lot of good bots have lost their lives today," and he was afraid that many more would follow. "Megatron and his Decepticons have much to answer for."
Hotrod looked away from him. "I know. It's just," the young autoboot seemed to be at a loss for words. "Cybertron is dead, and it is because of the Decepticons. So, what's the point of them continuing this fight? What more can they take?"
Optimus frowned at the young autoboot. He had every right to be angry at the Decepticons. But at the same time, Prime knew that the Decepticons were not the sole reason their world died.
Bumblebee looked between the two. "Uhh, Optimus, sir?" He said, keeping his attention on his brother. "You called us here for a reason?"
Optimus was thankful to the bot for the change of subject. "Yes, I did," he said. "I have read much about the both of you."
That elicited some surprise from the two bots. "You. You know about us," Hotrod said.
Optimus nodded at the bot. "I have been tracking your careers for some time. Ever since your rescues at Axon pass."
"Axon pass?" Hotrod said. "Wasn't that?" He looked over at his brother for confirmation.
"That was more than fifty cycles ago," Bumblebee said. "You've been keeping track of us since then."
Optimus nodded. "Yes, I have," he said. "Your raid on Vexon, the battle at Sigma Ridge, and the battle of Twilight Pass. Just to name a few of your exploits. Despite being so young, the two of you have done much for the Autobot cause."
Hotrod rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly unsure how to handle the praise. "We ahh? We were only doing what was right. You know, doing our duty as soldiers," he said.
Bumblebee rolled his optics. "Why are you acting so humble now?" He asked, crossing his arms. "I remember you bragging to everyone after every one of those incidents."
Hotrod shot his brother an irritated glare. "Well, those were the rank-and-file guys I was talking to. But this," he gestured over at Optimus. "This Optimus Prime, he's done way more impressive things than we have."
"Perhaps," Optimus said. "But that does not take away from your achievements. Both of you have gained a reputation for bravery and valor on the battlefield," not to mention recklessness and a disregard for authority, but he would save that discussion for later. "In the coming days, I will have need of that."
Both bots looked at him, confused. "Have need of?" Hotrod said. "What do you mean Prime? I mean, Optimus?"
Optimus smiled at the two brothers. "What I mean is. As of today, you are now a part of my team," he said.
The autobots stared at him blankly. Wait for it. Optimus thought to himself. Three, two… one.
"What?" Both brothers shouted.
"You want us to join your team?" Bumblebee said flabbergasted.
Hotrod, on the other hand, was having a very different reaction. "Whooo," the red and orange autoboot whooped. "You hear that, Bee? We get to join Prime's team. How awesome is that? How awesome are we?" He slung an arm around his brother's neck. "Team Prime, here we go, baby."
Most of the bridge crew turned their attention to the source of the disturbance. Some show how annoyed they were by the young autobot's reaction, while others just smiled and returned to their work.
"Optimus Prime, Sir," Bumblebee said. "Are you sure we deserve such an honor? There must be dozens if not hundreds, of others who deserve to be on your team," it was a valid question, and it showed humility on his part. Something that Prime liked to see in others.
"Come on, Bee. Didn't you hear just how awesome we are from the big man himself? We totally deserved this," his brother Hotrod, however, didn't show such qualities. But Optimus could not fault the young meche, for his enthusiasm. He was still young, after all. Despite the war, he still carried that spark of youthfulness in him.
Both brothers had a lot of potential that he believed he could cultivate. Young and brash as they may be, they had the potential to be some of the best bots in the autobot cause. And he had worked with worse before.
Optimus let out a curt cough grabbing the attention of the two brothers. Both stood at attention. "Sorry, sir," Hotrod said. "We just got carried away by the good news."
"We are honored that you think us worthy to join your team," Bumblebee said, bowing. His brother quickly did the same. "We promise you that you won't regret your decision."
"Yea, what he said," Hotrod commented.
Optimus gave the two a soft smile. To be young again. "I'm sure you won't," he said. "Now report to…"
"Optimus, we have a problem," Elita said, running up to him. "It's Cliffjumper."
Optimus frowned. The tone of his mate's voice was setting off alarm bells in his mind. "Elita, what is it? What is the status of Cliffjumper?"
"Let me show you," she said, pressing some commands on the terminal.
The projection of the Ark and the area around it vanished. It was replaced by a live feed of what appeared to be a battle. Bolts of red and blue energon flew through the air as a large, well-built red meche ran behind cover.
He poked out from his cover to fire his blaster cannon before retreating back behind safety. But not before a bolt clipped him on the shoulder. "Damn the cons," he said.
Optimus frowned. Whatever was happening, it didn't look good. "Cliffjumper, this is Optimus Prime. What is your status?" He asked. He got no response, so he repeated his statement. "Optimus Prime to Cliffjumper, what is your status? Report."
This time he did get the meche's attention. "Prime, things are not good down here," Cliffjumper said. "The cons have launched an assault on the reactor area."
Worry shot through Prime. If the Decepticons managed to take the reactor, they could shut down power to the whole sector. That could potentially cripple their defense of the Ark. "How far are they from taking the reactor?" He asked, already thinking of a way to send reinforcements.
Explosions were heard off-screen. "I'm afraid you don't understand, Prime," Cliffjumper said, shaking his head. "The cons aren't trying to take the reactor. They've been shooting everything up on sight. "I think," Cliffjumper paused for a moment. "I think they intend to cause an overload," he finished.
If Prime wasn't worried before, he was now. If the reactor was overloaded, the whole sector would go up, and the Ark would be destroyed, and with its prize. Were the Decepticons willing to risk the destruction of something so valuable? Was Megatron? "Are you certain that they?"
"Prime, they're being led by Bruticus," Cliffjumper cut him off.
Optimus heard an audible gasp. He glanced over, seeing it come from Hotrod. "Bruticus?" He asked. "Isn't that the guy who led the massacre of Tilos?"
Silence fell over the bridge. "The one and the same," Prime said, looking back at Cliffjumper. The fighting was growing more intense. "Cliffjumper, I'm sending you reinforcements. Just hold out a little longer."
The red autoboot shook his head. "No can do, Prime," he said. "The Cons have already broken through our defenses and are heading for the reactor chamber as we speak. We have maybe half a cycle at best."
"Cliffjumper," Optimus tried to reason with the Meche.
But he refused to listen. "Prime, the best thing you can do now is get the Ark off Cybertron. Without it, our future is lost," more bolts rained down on Cliffjumper's position. "We'll hold the cons off for as long as we can. Buy you as much time as you need to get the Ark into Orbit."
Optimus Prime was about to try and argue with the Meche. When a screech could be heard over the battle. "Die, Autobots. Die in flames," several bolts tore through the cover Cliffjumper had taken. Forcing him to run out, firing his blaster the whole time.
Then the strangest thing happened. Cliffjumper smiled. "And Prime, one more thing. Tell Ar-Cee that it was fun. Now go!" The transmission was cut off.
Silence prevailed over the bridge. A palpable sense of tension hung in the air. "Prime, we got to help him. We can't leave them to die," Hotrod said. "There's got to somebody you can send. Hell, send us. Me and my brother. We can help. Right Bee?" He looked over at his brother, getting no response. "Bee?"
Bumblebee had a grim expression on his face. "What is your decision, Prime?" He asked in a tone of voice that suggested he already knew the answer.
Prime closed his optics. It was times like this when he felt the full weight of his position as Autobot leader. There were days he wished he had never taken the mantle of Prime. He opened his eyes. His decision had been made a long time ago. He looked over at Elita. "Begin launch protocols now. Inform our forces we will be initiating an emergency launch."
Elita didn't offer a word of protest. Only a nod of understanding and a brief look of grief. She walked away. Instantly the bridge was a chaotic mess of activity.
"Prime, we just can't leave them," Hotrod said, almost sounding angry. "There's got to be a way to save them. We can't just run away like this."
Optimus looked over at the young autoboot, seeing the confusion and anger in his optics. He could see that he was ready to fight. Eager even. "Perhaps a bit too eager." Optimus thought.
"I understand your anger, Hotrod," he said calmly. "But there is nothing we can do for Cliffjumper and the others," he looked over the bridge seeing that while most others were working, some were eyeing them. "The best thing we can do now is honor their sacrifice by getting off Cybertron. The Ark and its cargo must not be allowed to be destroyed," Or fall into Decepticon hands.
"But Prime!" Hotrod said.
Bumblebee stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Both brothers looked at each other and seemed to hold a silent conversation. After a moment, Hotrod's shoulders slumped, and he nodded at Optimus.
A frown tugged at Prime's mouth, but he gave a thankful nod at the yellow and black autobot. "I know it is hard to understand. But sometimes sacrifices have to be made," it was a hard lesson he had to learn in the early days of the war. Even now, Optimus still has a hard time accepting it. So much had been sacrificed already.
Prime shook those thoughts off. Now was not the time for reflection. They had to act now, or all would be lost.
Once the launch order had been given, the battle around the Ark became a variable race against the clock. Word quickly spread across the ranks that the sector's reactor was about to be taken by the Decepticons. Worse yet, the reactor would be overloaded, causing the whole sector to be destroyed.
So, every Autobot raced back to the Ark as quickly as their legs, tires, and engines could let them. Even as they fought against the surging Decepticons, who saw their chance to take to the Ark and its treasured prize.
However, it quickly became clear that not everyone would make it to the Ark. Those closer to the massive Cybertronian starship would likely make it. But for those further away and still heavily engaged with the Decepticons, they knew they would never reach the safety of the Ark.
But instead of succumbing to despair like others, they turned around and stood their ground against the attacking Decepticons. Their brave actions would buy others the precious few moments they needed to reach the Ark's loading bays.
From the bridge, Optimus Prime watched on. He prayed to Primus that every spark out there would make it to the safe confines of his ship. That they would get just one more second, one more minute. However, Prime knew that time was not on their side.
Quick frantic reports poured into the bridge detailing the progress of the Decepticons' advance on the sector's primary reactor chamber. The report he had been dreading the most had come.
"Decepticons are about to breach the reactor chamber. Recommend immediate launch of the Ark."
Optimus's spark sank. He knew what he had to do, but it still hurt to know he had to leave so many to their deaths. He gave the order. "Launch."
The bay doors shut, even as more Autobots tried to pour in. Some would be lucky and make it into the bay doors just as they shut. While others were not so lucky.
The Ark's engines roared to life without even bothering with a countdown procedure. Massive plumes of fire and smoke bowled out, pushing the massive vessel out of its berths. Slowly but steadily, the Ark climbed through the air, quickly gaining speed.
Several Kilometers into the air, the flames were cut out as the primary drive was activated. Then it surged through the air, reaching low orbit. Not a moment too soon.
Moments later, the ground was upturned, whole city spires clasped, as the sector went up flames. The entire sector was consumed in a massive energon-fueled explosion that could be seen from low orbit. Smoke and debris would be sent through the air for hundreds of kilometers around.
The Ark had escaped the blast by the skin of its teeth. But it had escaped. From low orbit, it quickly ascended to the upper orbit of Cybertron. Where it saw a battle between dozens of warships on both sides of the conflict.
Starscream slammed a fist on the armrest of his chair. "Bruticus, you damn fool," he roared. On the projection in front of him, he saw the ever-growing blast wave tear through where the Ark had been.
Had being the keyword here. The Ark had escaped just moments before the blast tore through the sector. It was a relief to the second in command of the Decepticon cause. Otherwise, he feared what Lord Megatron would do to him.
May still do to me, he corrected himself as the projection switched back to show the escaping Ark. His battle group was supposed to have intercepted the Ark in case it launched. But between the battle with the Autobot fleet and the explosion on the Cybertron's surface, the Ark somehow managed to slip past his battle group.
Now their great prize was quickly escaping from Cybertron with its escort in tow. "Lord Starscream," a subordinate said. "We are receiving a communication from Lord Megatron."
Starscream grimaced. He was not looking forward to this encounter with his lord and master. "Bring it up," he said.
A moment later, the image of Megatron was projected onto the bridge of his command ship, the Blood of Unicron. Even though the leader of the Decepticons was on his own flagship and millions of kilometers away, his very presence still filled the room. And right now, his ire was directed at Starscream.
"You are most fortunate, Starscream," Megatron said. "Brutucus's fowl up did not cost us our great prize. Prime has always been a slippery one."
"Well, yes, I have always considered myself to be the lucky type," Starscream said nervously. "I'll admit it was a mistake to let that overgrown brute lead the assault on the primary reactor chamber."
Megatron continued to stare at him with an unchanging expression. "And yet, against my better judgment, I went with your recommendation."
Starscream chuckled. "The Ark did escape from the blast, my lord. We can still claim our great prize."
"Yes," Megatron drawled out. "Escape would be an excellent way to describe what it is doing now. As in escaping from you, Starscream. Your battlegroup was supposed to have intercepted them. Why has this not happened?"
Starscream remained silent as he felt something caught in his vocal processors. Not fear. He was above such things. "I apologize for the oversight, my Lord," he begged. "With your permission, I shall pursue the Ark and capture it."
Megatron's expression changed for the first time, and a snare spread across his face. "Normally, I would not leave such an important task in your hands after a failure like this. But my ship is heavily engaged with the Autobot fleet. They are determined to ensure that the Ark escapes Cybertron. While I finish them off, you will pursue the Ark. You will capture it and bring me its great prize. Do not fail me, Starscream. The Autobots must not be allowed to escape with the Ark. If you must destroy the vessel and its contents, do so. But I do want what is aboard. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Starscream said. "I will not fail you this time, my lord," Megatron looked at him for a moment longer before nodding. His image vanished. Starscream let out a breath he did know he was holding. He looked around the bridge of the Blood of Unicron, seeing its crew staring back at him. Starscream growled. "You heard Lord Megatron," he shouted at them. "All ships pursue the Ark, now!"
"They're still chasing us, Prime," a bridge officer said.
The Ark shook as another energon blast racked against its hull. Hotrod had to grab onto something to prevent himself from falling over. "I could have told him that," he mutters, steading himself.
"Return fire with the rear cannons," Prime said. "What is the status of our escort group?"
Hotrod looked over at the projection in a word, not good. "Not good, Prime," he reported. Seeing only a single blue dot with two red dots in front of it. "We only have a single escort ship left, and they are heavily engaged with the enemy," the blue dot winked out. "Prime, our last escort ship just went down," he reported.
Those two red dots were joining the rest of the Decepticon battle group chasing them. Bring their number to a total of six ships.
Prime did not waste any time. "Divert all available power to the shields and engines. We must escape. We cannot allow the Ark to fall into Decepticon hands," more orders were given by the Autobot leader.
Hotrod looked at his brother. "Bee? Do you think we can get out of this?" He asked.
Bumblebee looked over him. He gave him a look of uncertainty. "I'm not really sure, Hotrod," he said. "Things are looking pretty bad," the bridge of the Ark shook again, and this time sparks could be heard exploding. "But Optimus Prime is here," they both looked at the Autobot leader. "If anyone can get us out of this."
"It would be him," Hotrod finished for him. He reminded himself that they had been in tough spots before. They had gotten out of them then, and they would get out of this one. But he knew the stakes were higher than their own lives. "Bee I."
The bridge shook hard, this time throwing Hotrod down to the floor. Somewhere he heard something explode, followed by someone screaming. Then the young Autobot got back to his feet with some help from his older brother.
"Prime, one of our engines just took a direct hit. We're losing speed," a bridge officer hastily reported.
"Prime, if we don't do something now," a large older-looking meche said. "The Ark is going to be captured."
"I know that old friend," Prime said calmly. "We have no choice. Activate the space bridge."
Hotrod's optics widened. "Did he say space bridge?"
Bumblebee nodded. "Yes, he did."
They had only ever heard of that piece of technology. What it could do, and what would happen if it wasn't used carefully. "Prime, are you mad?" The same meche asked Prime. "With how much damage we've suffered, I'm unsure if we can generate a stable space bridge. Even if we could, we don't have enough time to put in coordinates for a proper exit point. We'll have to do a blind jump. There's no telling where we'll end up."
"I know that old friend," Prime said. "But if we are to escape from this battle. We may have to take that risk. We will have to let the will of Primus lead us."
The red and white meche looked at Prime for a long time before he responded. "Activating the space bridge now."
Outside the bridge, Hotrod saw a massive whirlpool of green light open. Hotrod gulped. By the sound of things, that whirlpool would take them away from Cybertron and take them to Primus knows where.
He heard his brother whisper softly. "Primus, be with us."
Luna orbit, Hanger Bay of the UNS. Armstrong
Jack felt a soft jolt as his fighter landed on the hanger bay of the Armstrong. "Another boring patrol," he said softly.
Sometimes he wondered why they even bothered to patrol around Luna or Earth. The fighting was out in the belt where the League had yet to break through their defenses. "I'm sorry I didn't catch that," a voice came through his fighter's com.
Jack rolled his eyes. The flight deck officer was a bit of a hard case. "It was nothing, sir," he said. "Pilot Jack Witwicky reporting in. Stirkcraft #1034 has landed on the nest. Awaiting further orders."
"Flightdeck acknowledges," the officer said crisply. "Stand by for further orders."
"Like that's necessary," Jack thought to himself. He had done his patrol with the rest of the squadron. More than likely, they would be allowed to disembark.
His com came to life. "That some fancy flying, Red-7."
Jack smirked. "Well, I did have to make things interesting, Red-3," he said to his wingman and friend. "Patrols around here are so boring," looking outside his cockpit, he saw technicians swarm around his fighter.
"It is an important thing to do," Red-3 pointed out.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me," he said. "I already heard that from Conner.
"Really now," Red-3 said. Jack didn't need to be there to see that the man had a smirk on. "How are you two doing? I heard something about you two coming out of the showers together."
Jack was glad he was still in his cockpit, where his blush was hidden. "Just fine," he said curtly. "And that's none of your business."
"If you say so."
Jack looked at the time display. Come on, let us out already, Jack thought. The patrol was boring as always, so he was eager to get out of his fighter and see his boyfriend.
It was likely that Conner was still on duty. But if Jack were lucky, they would be doing training drills today. It would be nice to see his boyfriend all hot and sweaty. Jack felt the heat buildup around his cheeks.
"Attention returning pilots," The deck officer's voice came through the comms. "You are now clear to disemba-."
The klaxons came to life with a soft yellow light. "Attention, all hands statues alert yellow. Unknown contacts on an approach vector to Luna."
Earlier this morning, Jack had wished for something to happen. Now he was getting his wish.
UNS. Armstrong Bridge:
"What in the hell are we seeing? Fleet Admiral Cartwell said.
"Unknown, Sir," a crewman said.
Unknown sounded about right. Cartwell looked at the bridge's view screen. It was displaying something he had never seen before. A green vortex of light hung in dark depths of space.
It was unlike anything he said seen before, and Cartwell imagined the same went for everyone on the bridge. One moment he was reading the daily reports, a cup of coffee in the other hand. Then he is called to the bridge because of unusual sensor readings.
"Ensign, I don't want to hear unknown," he growled at the young woman. "I want to know what that thing is, what it is doing here, and if it is a threat to us. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," the woman squeaked out. Under normal circumstances, he might have felt guilty for being so harsh with her. But Cartwell had a duty to his ship and the rest of the fleet. Not to mention Luna below.
He needed to know what they were dealing with. "Admiral, I think I might know what it is." Cartwell turned over to face the source of the voice. A man in his mid-forties, on the shoulder pad of his uniform, was the insignia for a specialist officer.
Cartwell tried to think of who he was and what his position was. The memory came back to him. "Science officer Lawson," he had always questioned the wisdom of stationing science officers on warships. Most of the time, they were not of much use, being regulated to the regular duties of other officers. "You know what this thing is?" He tilted his head towards the vortex.
The man walked towards the sensor officer and looked over her station. "Now, this is only speculation on my end," he said. "But I believe what we are looking at is a wormhole of some kind.
"A wormhole?" Cartwell questions.
"A wormhole is a," Lawson began.
"I know what a wormhole is," Admiral Cartwell cut him off. "What I'm asking is, what is a wormhole doing opening in the middle of our solar system? Last, I checked, they weren't supposed to do that."
The science officer hummed to himself. "Now that I can't answer," he said. "At least not without further scans of this wormhole. We are getting some very unusual readings from it."
"Oh?" Cartwell remarks. "And your experiences with other wormholes tell you this; why?"
Lawson snorted. "Apologies, sir. While we have never encountered a wormhole before. We do have a solid idea of what one should look like. The one we're looking at is giving us readings that we shouldn't."
Cartwell was about to ask more questions about this wormhole when he got a report from his sensor officer. "Admiral, energy spike from the ano- the wormhole."
Cartwell looked back at the display of the wormhole. An explosion of green light erupted from its epicenter, briefly blinding the bridge crew. When the light faded, a wave of gasps passed through. Cartwell remained silent as he scanned over what the viewscreen was showing them now.
A vessel had emerged from the wormhole, and it was unlike anything he had seen before. It was not a design he had seen before, massive, and bulky. By the looks of it had seen better days.
"Alert status yellow," Cartwell said, standing up. "Unknown contact on an approach vector. What is that thing?"
This time it was his tactical officer that answered. "A vessel of a previously unknown design," he said. "Sir, it's massive. Five kilometers in length, three in width, and three in height."
Cartwell's eyes widen. That thing was larger than any ship humanity had ever built, almost the size of some of the largest stations they had created. How in the bloody hell was that thing moving?
"I'm also getting some extremely high energy readings from the vessel. Sir, that thing is outputting more energy than a Goliath station," wonderful things were getting better by the minute. "Sir, I don't think this thing is of human origin."
"Not of human origin? What is that supposed?" He turned to ask the man. Then the implication hit him square in the chest. He looked back at the viewscreen and scanned over the unknown vessel. Everything was lining up in his mind. "Comms."
"Sir?"
"Open a channel to that unknown vessel. Send a language pack," he said. "Then open a channel to Fleet Command. Tell them we may have a first contact scenario on our hands."
"Admiral, more contacts emerging from the wormhole."
The Ark emerged from the space bridge. Relief flooded over Optimus Prime, their vessel did not exit out inside a planet or in the gravity well of a star.
"Helm, where did we end up?" Prime asked. A part of him hoped they somehow came out at the rendezvous point or somewhere near it. But he knew how incredibly unlikely that was.
"Give me a moment, Prime," Helm said. "The sensors are still realigning themselves. There we go," a projection of a star system appeared in front of Optimus. "It looks like we exited out in an uncharted system. Reading around nine, no, eight planets."
Optimus looked at the projection. By the looks of it, they exited out near the lunar object of the third planet. Something felt off.
"Prime, I'm getting power readings from the third planet, its moon, and the space around it," Helm said.
"Show me," Optimus said. He already had a suspicion of what they were. The projection zoomed in on the lunar body, confirming what he suspected. Ships orbiting the moon. They had exited out in an inhabited system.
The vessels were smaller than most Cybertronian vessels. The largest appears to be around the size of a cruiser.
"Prime, you're not going to believe this," Helm said. "I'm picking up organic lifeforms on those ships."
"What?" Rachet said, giving voice to Optimus's surprise. "That's impossible. No biological race has ever achieved space flight."
Prime looked at the vessels again. A mussing expression spread across his face. "Then it seems we have found the first," he said.
"Prime, we got a problem."
The Ark shuddered.
"Sir, the second set of contacts just fired on the first," Tactical said.
"What is going on here?" Cartwell asked. Had some kind of intergalactic war been brought to their doorstep? We don't need another war.
There were six new contacts, all of them warships. Alien in design as they may be, Cartwell knew a warship when he saw one. Thankfully, none of them were nearly as big as the first ship to come through the wormhole. But they were still big.
The largest and very likely the command ship was a kilometer and a half in length, almost the size of a human battleship. The smaller vessels were seven hundred meters, making them cruisers.
"I don't know, sir," Tactical said. "But, sir, those ships are giving off the same power readings as the first."
"So, we're dealing with the same people here." Cartwell summed up. A civil war, perhaps? "What is the status of the language pack?"
"Ready, sir."
"Send it now!" Cartwell ordered. "Along with this message. This is Fleet Admiral Archie Cartwell of the Lunar Defense Fleet, in command of the UNS. Armstrong. You have entered the airspace of the United Nations of Sol. I order you to cease your conflict within our territory and to open a dialog with us."
"Lord Starscream, the alien vessels are hailing us. We're also receiving what appears to be a language pack."
"So, the locals want to speak, do they?" Starscream said, rubbing his chin. He still found it hard to believe that they were crewed by organics. The sensors must be malfunctioning. "Translate their language and play the message."
"Yes, my lord."
A moment later, a voice was heard over the comms. "This is Admiral Archie Cartwell of the Lunar Defense Fleet, in command of the UNS. Armstrong. You have entered the airspace of the United Nations of Sol. I order you to cease your conflict within our territory and to open a dialog with us."
Brave little primitives, weren't they?
"This is Admiral Archie Cartwell of the Lunar Defense Fleet, in command of the UNS. Armstrong. You have entered the airspace of the United Nations of Sol. I order you to cease your conflict within our territory and to open a dialog with us."
Optimus was quick to react. "Open a channel to the Armstrong."
"Channel open, Prime. But we only have audio."
Optimus nodded. The Ark had taken a lot of damage from the battle. So, several systems were either offline or barely operable. He prayed that its most important one was still intact.
"Prime?" Rachet said next to him. "What are you planning?" Elita shared a similar look of concern.
"Hopefully, saving us, old friend," Optimus said. "Admiral Archie Cartwell of the UNS. Armstrong. This is Optimus Prime of the Autobot Starship Ark. We will comply with your order but request that we land on your moon. Our ship has taken heavy damage and needs to be repaired," Prime debated to himself if he should reveal the next bit of information. "We also request protection from the pursuing Decepticon forces, should they not comply."
"Please, Starscream, see reason here. Do not drag another race into our war," Prime thought to himself.
"Prime!" Rachet said. "Are you really going to put our fate in the hands of a bunch of primitive organics? Have you gone mad?"
"They are not primitives, Rachet," Optimus chastises his old friend. "There may yet be more to them than meets the eye."
And truthfully, Prime did not know what else to do.
"We also request protection from the pursuing Decepticon forces, should they not comply."
"Bloody hell!" Cartwell thought to himself. Just what they needed right now, another complication.
"Sir, what should we do?" Tactical said. "The uhh? Autobot ship has complied with our order and powered down their weapons. Their power output has also dropped. They appear to be channeling what is left to their engines and shields."
"Sir," Comms said. "The rest of the fleet is requesting orders."
"Standby," Cartwell said. "Hail the Decepticon ships. Reiterate our orders. Warn them that should they continue with their act of aggression, they will be considered hostile and fired upon."
A moment passed, and the Decepticon ships were still firing on the Autobot ship. "We're receiving a hail from the Decepticon Command ship. The uhh? Blood of Unicorn? They're requesting visual contact."
"Granted," Cartwell said. The viewscreen lit, changing from the battle to showing the face of the new contacts. Cartwell's eyes widened. "A machine," he mutters.
The machine's face had a look of surprise on it before its expression twisted in disgust. "Eh, so you are organics. How quaint."
Cartwell's eyes narrowed at the being, he didn't like the tone of its voice. He got a good look at the machine's face. It was thin and elongated, ending in a pointed chin. Set against grey metal, its red eyes gazed at Cartwell dismissively. One looked at this thing, and Cartwell saw the face of a cruel man. Being?
"This is Admiral Cartwell," he said to the machine. "To whom might I be speaking?"
The machine stared at him with an expression of contempt. For a moment, Cartwell thought the thing would ignore his question. "Listen well, little organic," the thing said. "For I will not repeat myself."
"My species is called human," Cartwell interjected, trying his best to sound calm in front of the alien machine.
The thing rolled its eyes. "Whatever," it dismissed. "I am Lord Starscream, the second in command to the glories Decepticon cause. Which will soon achieve total victory in our war with the Autobots when I seize the Ark."
Cartwell felt a frown tug at his mouth. This situation was getting more complicated by the minute. "Be that as it may," Cartwell said to the being calling itself Starscream. "Lord Starscream, you still have yet to follow my order and cease your hostilities with the Autobot vessel."
Starscream scoffed at the man. "And why should I follow the orders of a primitive organic?"
This time Cartwell allowed a frown to appear on his face. "Because you are in our territory," he said evenly. "And brought your war into our space without our knowledge or consent. So, we are well within our rights to demand a cease-fire in our home."
The Decepticon commander chuckled. "Brave for an organic, aren't you? Most would scurry away at seeing me or any other cybertronian. So, I will forgive you for your rudeness."
"My rudeness?" Cartwell said evenly.
The decepticon smiled at him. It was unsettling. "Do not interfere with our battle with the Autobot ship, and I won't turn your ships into slag. Farewell, human. I doubt we will see each other again."
"Now wait for just a," the image of the machine winked out, and once again, the bridge crew was offered a view of the battle happening outside Luna's orbit.
"He cut the transmission, sir," Comms said.
That much Cartwell could see. He felt his hands ball into fists. "Hail the Decepticons again. Repeat our order to cease their conflict with the Autobot ship." Briefly, he wondered if that was also crewed by machines. Had they discovered a race of machines? If so, who were their creators, and for what purpose? Were they even still around?
There were a lot of unknowns at play here. Cartwell did not like any of it. "Sir, the Decepticons are ignoring our hails."
"Keep raising them, ensign," Cartwell said.
"Aye, sir," Comms responded."
"Admiral!" Tactical said. "The Decepticon ships have deployed what appear to be strike craft after the autobot vessel. They will intercept in a matter of minutes."
"Admiral," Comms said. "The autoboot vessel is repeating its request for aid. The fleet is also requesting orders. Should they engage the hostiles or stand by?"
Cartwell looked at the projection of the alien ships. He could see the smaller stirk craft closing in on the Autobot vessel. He shuddered to think what kind of ordinance those things could be carrying.
Was he ready to engage an unknown enemy to save total strangers? For all he knew, that ship was carrying criminals. The scum of whatever planet these machines hailed from.
Then his thoughts went to the being that called itself Starscream. The cruel face it had. These Decepticons, there was something about them that unsettled him. They were not to be trusted. Instinct told him that. But was that enough to risk a war over?
"Order our forward lines to charge weapons and lock on the Decepticon vessels. Have a wing of fighters dispatched to intercept their fighters," he ordered. "Send them one last message that if they do not break off their attack, they will be considered hostile and fired upon."
"Aye, sir," Comms said. "Message sent. The fleet has responded. Their charging weapons and locking onto the Decepticon fleet."
"Any response from them?" Cartwell asked.
"Nega…"
"Admiral, one of the Decepticon vessels is coming about," Tactical said. "They're heading right for us."
Cartwell's heart raced. "All hands battle stations," he shouted. "Standby weapons, engage on my command. Comms raise the Decepticon vessel. Unidentified Decepticon ship, you are approaching our fleet without authorization. Break off or you…"
"Energy spike!"
Cartwell watched in muted horror as twin lances of red energy shot from the alien vessel and raced toward his fleet. Seconds later, the beams hit one of his ships, a cruiser. Its shields flared to life for about two seconds. Then beams cut into the cruiser. The cruiser vanished in a blinding flash of light.
The bridge crew of the Armstrong was left in stunned silence as the light died down, showing the cruiser was no longer there.
"That was the Repulse, Sir," Tactical said in an empty voice. "She's gone. No signs of escape pods or shuttles leaving. All hands lost."
Three words broke the silence that followed. "All ships, fire."
What would become known as the first battle of Luna would be remembered as a short but brutal affair. In his arrogance, Starscream ordered the destruction of one of the human vessels. In his mind, once these primitive organics saw the raw power of one of their ships, they would back down and let him do what he wanted.
Unfortunately for the Decepticon second in command, he failed to take into account several things.
1. The primitive organics were not nearly as primitive as he thought they were. One scan of their ships would have revealed that they were giving off high amounts of energy. Not as high as a Cybertronian ship, but enough to suggest they could hurt them.
2. He was fighting not just in their home system but near their homeworld. It should have been no surprise that it was heavily defended. The forces that protect Luna alone outnumber Starscream's ships ten to one.
3. Humans did not like being told what to do.
If Starscream had realized any of this, he might have been less eager to fight. As it were, though, he was about to get a lesson in humiliation.
The counterattack from the human fleet was swift and brutal. Seven ships, of which three were mainline cruisers, opened with a barrage of fusion beams. Streams of blue light slammed into the Decepticon warship while others sailed past it. Its shields flared to life, holding for about five seconds under the fire of two human cruisers before they collapsed. The beams bored into the ship's hull, stripping away armor plating. Half a second later, its energon reactor was breached, and the ship vanished in a blinding flash of light.
Stunned, the Decepticons watched in horror as one of their ships simple wink out of existence. Then, the humans pressed their attack. More ships opened up on the Decepticon ships. Deadly fusion beams slammed into their hulls. Another Decepticon warship was destroyed, while the remaining vessels took varying levels of damage.
On board his flagship Starscream slammed a fist on the armrest of his chair, screaming furiously. "Ignore the Autobot ship. Destroy these primitives."
The Decepticon ships came about, turning their weapons on the human fleet. Even as they pressed their attack, the defenders of Luna realized the type of danger they were in.
Some ship captains would be quick enough to order power to their forward shields. The Decepticon ships fire their banks of energon cannons. Seconds later streaks of red light hit the front lines of the Lunar defense fleet. In an instant, four human ships were destroyed, and three others were heavily damaged.
But despite the losses, the Humans still had the advantage. Especially now, the defense platforms around Luna turned their sights on the attackers.
As this happened, a wing of human fighters closed in on the Decepticon interceptors sent after the Ark. Among them was the pilot Jack Witwicky, he would be among the first humans to score kills on the Decepticon fighters.
The wing of human fighters fires a salvo of missiles at the enemy interceptors. Vehicons being simple drones in the Decepticon hierarchy were caught flat-footed by the human attack. The entire intercepting force was destroyed by the swarms of missiles.
But the fight was not over for the human fighters as a second wave of Decepticon fighters came at them, intending to exact vengeance.
Jack pulled his fighter craft to the left. Avoiding several twin pulses of red light.
This was not what he expected. He expected more from the alien pilots. Sure, they were good. Their craft were fast, maneuverable, and powerful. They were pulling off turns and speeds that would be impossible for a human.
He activated his fighter's maneuvering jets and swung it around to face his attacker. He fires several bolts of plasma. Half a second later, his target vanished from his screen.
But despite the clear advantages the alien strike craft had, their human counterparts were holding their own against them. No more than just holding their own, they were winning this dog fight.
As advanced as they seemed to be, the alien fighters were predictable. Even slow to respond if one of the human fighters did something unexpected, which was frequent.
"Red three, target down.
"Red eight, you got one on your tail."
"I see him. Got him."
"This is red five. I got two on me. I can't shake them."
Jake sped his fighter towards red five. "Red five, this is Red seven," Jack said into the comms. "I'm coming in to help. Hold tight."
"Copy that." Red five said.
Red Five's craft and the two alien fighters quickly appeared on Jack's HUD. They were coming closer to the UNS fighter. Bolts of red flew past the craft, nearly missing, as the fighter struggled to keep its pursuers off.
One set of bolts did land on Red Five. "I've been hit. They clipped my wing. I can't hold out for much longer."
"Hold on, Red Five. I'm coming." Jack said, boosting his engines. The alien fighters came into range, and Jack pulled the trigger on his strike craft's weapons. One of the alien fighters exploded while the other broke off, avoiding destruction. But its wing was clipped.
The alien fighter veered off, trying to escape the battle. "Oh, no, you don't," Jack said aloud. He pulled his fighter after the fleeing fighter.
His opponent tried to outmaneuver him, increasing speed, and taking on an erratic flight path. But again, as Jack noted with the other alien craft, its trajectory was predictable. It almost felt like he was in a simulator.
He lined up his shot on the alien fighter and fired. Half a second later, he got the confirmation from his terminal. Kill confirmed. Jack smiled behind his oxygen mask.
"Thanks, Red Seven. You saved my tail out there." Red Five said.
"Nothing to it," Jack said to the fighter pilot. "Just get your bird back to the Armstrong."
"Copy that Red Seven. Red Five breaking off from the battle."
Jack nodded in his cockpit and looked at his sensor display. Most of the enemy fighters had been wiped out now. The few remaining struggling to stay alive against UNS birds. Similarly, the battle with the Luna fleet was going well, a third alien warship exploded as fusion beams cut into its hull. Before picking another target, Jack briefly wonders what was going through the alien commander's mind.
Starscream was, in fact, not having a good time. Half of his battle group had been wiped out by these primitive organics.
The only solace he took was that his Decepticon forces had inflicted twice as much damage to the human fleet. Five of their ships had been consigned to oblivion, and three others were heavily damaged.
But despite this, he knew the odds were not in his favor. The human fleet now outnumbered his forces fifteen to one, and the defense platforms around their moon eschewed the odds more in their favor. Worse yet, what appeared to be patrol groups in the area had changed course and were heading directly toward his position. The fleet that defended what was doubtless their homeworld had also dispatched a detachment.
Outnumbered. Outgunned. And soon to be outflanked, Starscream realized that staying here would only court disaster. The second in command of the Decepticons growled to himself. "Damn, these primitive organics. They will pay for their interference. All ships retreat," the bridge crew looked at him in disbelief. "Activate the space bridge and set a destination for Cybertron."
"But my lord," Vehicon said. "What about our units engaged with the human strike craft? We can' ju…" An energon bolt slammed into his chest plate, extinguishing his spark.
Starscream turned his arm cannon back into a hand. "We will leave them," he said, leaving no room for argument. "Would anyone else like to question my orders?" Wisely, no one spoke up. Starscream snorted, the cowards. "Good then. Get us out of here."
"Sir," Tactical said. "The Decepticon ships appear to be retreating from the battle."
On his display, Admiral Cartwell saw the alien ships turn around and flee from the battle. They were still exchanging shots with the Lunar defense fleet. But it appeared most of their weapons were concentrated in the forward arc.
Cartwell was not about to relax his guard. The enemy ships could still do considerable damage. "I want two squadrons of warships to pursue the enemy. I want them destroyed or driven away from Luna's gravity well," if he was, to be honest, Cartwell preferred that the Decepticon fleet be destroyed entirely. But the old Admiral suspected that would not be possible.
His suspicions would be confirmed a moment later. "Sir, we're picking up an energy spike near the Decepticon fleet," an officer said. "It is identical to the same energy readings we got before that wormhole opened."
On display, the Bridge crew saw a vortex of green light appear in front of the fleeing ships. So, they can generate wormholes, Cartwell thought to himself. The implications of that did not bold well for him.
Another of the Decepticon ships exploded while the remaining two vanished into the vortex. The vortex closed, ending the Battle of Luna. Cartwell, in his head, reviewed the losses that they had suffered today.
Five ships were lost with all hands, and four others were heavily damaged. In exchange, the enemy lost four of their ships. Cartwell did the math leading him to the conclusion that if they fought these Decepticons again, they would need a three-to-one advantage, maybe four.
"All ships stand down from battle stations," Cartwell ordered. "But remain on high alert. The enemy may return. We must be ready to repulse them," Cartwell did not relish the thought of fighting these Decepticons again."
"Sir," Comms said. "The Autobot ship is sending us a message. They are thanking us for the assistance and request that they be allowed to land on the moon. Their engines had suffered heavy damage and are on the verge of failing."
Cartwell thought about it for a moment. There was no telling what these Autobots were up to if they were even better than the enemy they had just fought off. "Granted," he said. They had already helped these people, and they had proved to be friendlier than the Decepticons. And Cartwell felt that compassion was a virtue to be cultivated.
"Patch them to traffic control," Cartwell ordered. "Have them land on an isolated part of Luna far from any settlements. Provide them with a crash trajectory as well. I don't like the looks of their engines."
"Aye, sir."
Cartwell looked back at the remaining alien ship. So, unlike anything they had ever seen before. Cartwell knew he was looking at history in the making. A defining moment that would change the course of human history and perhaps even the history of the aliens. But he could not shake the feeling that there was so much more to it than meets the eye.
I hope you enjoyed. The Sol Wars is my own original transformers universe. Like in so many other continuities the Autobot have fled a dead Cybertron and have themselves in the Sol System, the home of humanity. But the twist here is that this version of humanity has largely colonized their home systems, and their technology is more advanced. Granted it's not on the same level as the Autobots of the Decepticons, but they can put up a fight. You can see how this will change the dynamics between the humans and the two Cybertronain factions.
Now to be clear this not going to be some Humanity F# yeah story. They are capable of hurting the Decepticons and can kill them. They can turn the tide of the war but not by a significant amount. Plus, I have a few surprised in mind for this story, and let's just say the Autobots might not be the only ones getting help from the Locals.
I'll explain more once I'm through with the first "Chapter" of this story. Or rather the first episode of this series.
Here is the timeline for the other parts.
Part 2: September 1st
Part 3: September 29th
Part 4: October 6th
Until then being seeing you in the next update. Until all are one.