by COMMANDER » Sun Jan 03, 2010 7:47 pm
Years ago I had begun an attempt to tie in the stories of various timelines, (comics,cartoons,various fan-fics,etc.) Unfortunately, the original fanfiction section was removed from the creative tab,and the story was lost..along with a multitude of stories that were waaaaaaaaaay better than mine.I've been waiting,hoping that,perhaps,that section would be revived,but as yet it hasn't. Anywho, here's a portion of what I'd written;check it out and let me know what you think. Thanks
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned, and various depictions are not meant to infringe upon the copyrights and legalities held by Takara of Japan or Hasbro of America. The Transformers© are a copywritten trademark of Hasbro, manufactured under license from Takara Co., LTD.
This story, though, is MINE; its plot and artistic liberties belong to ME, and it has been provided for the general public's entertainment.
AWAKENING
It is a world transformed, where things are not what they seem…a world of heroic Autobots and evil Decepticons, and a universe of chaos.
Prologue
Rodimus awoke in a system sweat his thoughts coalescing into a singularity, Optimus...why do I keep seeing you in my dreams?! Is it that you trying to tell me I'm not the leader you were??...I already know that. With Cybertron all but destroyed by saboteurs who'd placed explosives on Vector Sigma, the Autobots had been grinding their gears trying to find another deserted planet suitable as a new "home." It had been weeks since then, but that’s when the "nightmares,” as the humans called them, had begun. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he had missed standing there on the ruined shell of Cybertron...something important...but what?!
Chapter 1: The Return
“Springer! Turn the ships around!” he bellowed storming onto the bridge of the Autobots command shuttle.
"What?!” replied Springer incredulously. “We’ve just reached critical mass...to turn around would jeopardize the mission, not to mention exhaust most of the fleet’s precious fuel."
"I don't care,” retorted Rodimus, "We're going back to Cybertron. There's something we missed."
"With all due respect sir, I need not remind you that such a trip would take us well over 10 terrestrial years as we won't have enough fuel to reach critical mass again,” interjected Perceptor from the helm.
"If I were interested in time Perceptor, I would have asked!” Rodimus quipped, then strode from the bridge.
"Remind me to tell Kup to stop diluting the energon… it's making the kid crazy,” said Springer.
Here, here, thought Goldbug solemnly, But what's really looping Rodimus' circuits?
The Autobot's fleet approached the broken remains of their home planet after 18 Terran years in the confines the celestial abyss. It had taken 6 more years than anticipated; thanks to increased fuel consumption due to fleet-wide malfunctions. Much to the forlorn Autobot’s chagrin, the shuttles just weren’t up to long duration travel in standard space. In the end, all non-essential personnel, and systems had needed to be shut down. As Rodimus awoke from his CR chamber induced coma to the shuddering of his flagship’s faltering engines, reality and dreamscapes collided. "Whoa... the dreams...I gotta lay off the energon before stasis. Of course it might be these new CR Chambers…they’re a lot different from the old recharging berths.”
“Sir?!,” the intercom beeped pulling Rodimus from his thoughts.
“Yeah, SureShot, I’m here,” he replied coolly.
“Sir, Perceptor and I both agree that you should see this,” the navigator tensely replied.
“On my way,” Rodimus responded hitting the panel and terminating the call. “Of all the circuit blown dimwittery, as Kup would say, I can’t even get on my feet before having to play the parent to a bunch of overgrown children…I don’t know how Prime ever did it.”
But even as he grumbled, something about the inflection of SureShot’s voice sent an intermittent surge through his system. “Maybe there is something to those weird images I kept seeing while in the CR.”
Rodimus stumbled onto the Bridge…and froze. On the screen before him, time had stopped, and just turned tail and run. Instead of the desolate, twisted and mangled metal wasteland he remembered standing on almost two terran decades ago, after the saboteur’s bombs a detonated, but before the search for a new a home world began, was a Cybertron more illustrious than even the historical archives had ever depicted. Even the last transmissions they had received from Star-Saber as he and his team joined the hunt for a new Cybertron, after they had rid the terran system of Decepticon influence over 7 years ago, never indicated…this?
“What the hell is going on!!!? Perceptor! Did you verify this data?!”
“Yes sir, the quantum signatures are identical down to the residual electromagnetic resonance of Vector Sigma’s Power Chamber.”
“This is not possible…surely this is a mirage. Even the combined forces of all the Transformers in the universe could not have accomplished such a feat! Perceptor …check again!!
“Sir,” Perceptor answered flatly, “As you know my calculations are nearly infallible. I have already checked, verified and rechecked the results to the nth degree; there is no mistake…that is Cybertron!!”
“How in the- I must be dreaming!” Rodimus insisted.
“I assure you, sonny, you aren’t crazy,” snorted Kup from the opening lift.
“I’ve been monitorin’ some crazy static from down there on the planet,” TwinCast interjected. “We’d better move fast for surprise, or we won’t have it!”
Rodimus looked at the screen again. Blaster, or TwinCast, rather, wasn’t lying. There was more visible activity going on, both on and around the planet, than he had ever seen. It was almost as if he were looking into an archived picture of Cybertron from the perspective of Quintesson artist’s concept of what the planet was to have looked like upon completion.
“Amazing…absolutely amazing…”Rodimus muttered. Then, recomposing himself he look at his bridge staff and began to give his orders, but again, was cut off by TwinCast at the comm. station.
“Hey Rod, not tryin’ to derail, but we’re bein’ hailed,” TwinCast almost shouted.
“On screen!” Rodimus snapped and almost tripped over his command chair in shock, even before the words rumbled from the figure on screen.
“Unidentified Autobot craft…This is Cybertron Commander Ultra-Magnus…Identify yourself or be destroyed!!”
“Ultra-Magnus? I thought- I thought you were…dead?!,” Rodimus all but wheezed.
Chapter 3: Truth
For a moment, a look of confusion flashed across the massive blue form’s face. It was so brief that even Perceptor’s astute attentiveness almost missed it. But the being claiming to be Ultra-Magnus quickly regained his composure and arrogance.
“Whatta ya yappin’ about, runt?! You always were the one to give up too easily…always carryin’ on about not bein’ worthy and all…what a wuss!! I guess that’s why WheelJack went rogue! You embody all that would disillusion any Autobot. You could-“
“You got a glitch in your system Magnus?!” Kup couldn’t contain his anger any longer. “Rodimus is the Leader of the Autobots! Chosen by the Matrix itself!!! Even Prime recognized his potential and endorsed him! You’re not only out of line, son, you must be daft! WheelJack died in the battle of Autobot City at the end of the last Great War! His body was entombed on The Mausoleum. There’s no wa-”
UltraMagnus quickly spoke over him.”So…now you’re his lackey old-timer?! Are you so antiquated that you can’t keep your logs current, or use common sense? WheelJack was one of the Autobots foremost research and developers it should have been apparent to all of us that there could have been a possibility he’d made modifications to himself. In fact, he had, he’d installed a self preservation circuit that allowed his core to be sustained even in the event of massive structural trauma.” Magnus paused for effect then continued. “He was still inventing and blowing things up until the recent Decepticon onslaught of Iacon. It was that battle that disillusioned him so much he deserted.”
“WheelJack would never de-,”Kup started but Rodimus cut him off as curiosity got the best of him.
“What Decepticons? And, why would the Decepticons waste energon attacking a dead planet?” he asked skeptically.
“Well, well, well, the pipsqueak does have a tongue,” Magnus chuckled. “I would have figured you of all people would have known. The Decepticons attacked when they found out the Techno-Bots were in the process of reviving me and Prime. Do you really thi-“
“What are you saying?” Rodimus rasped. “Are you saying Prime is alive?! That’s impossible!!! He merged with Vector Sigma! I saw it with my own eyes!! We enshrined his body inside the Hall of Hero’s…it would have been buried under kilometers of rubble if not destroyed by the explosions! You’re mad Magnus! Mad!!!”
Rodimus was borderline hysterical, and Ultra-Magnus was pleased.
“That’s exactly what I was talking about. How many times have we thought Prime dead only to find out he wasn’t? From day one he’s been just too stubborn to die. And you…the “chosen one”…you doubt. As I said before…you’re pathetic. I should just blow you and your fleet out of orbit, but then I’d have to listen to Prime’s bitchin’. You’re cleared for landing. Make it snappy before I change my mind.”
The screen went blank, replaced by the view of Cybertron from orbit. Rodimus couldn’t move, his systems on the verge of an overload, his memory banks looping…and, he wasn’t the only one. The dialogue had been simultaneously transmitted throughout the fleet, and once the transmission had ended the video logs were undoubtedly being replayed. Springer, knowing that it was only a matter of astro-seconds before utter chaos erupted, stepped quickly from his station to Rodimus’.
“Let’s play this one by ear, kid,” his almost whispered. “Preoccupy the fleet with reviving their crews, landing and disembarking. That’ll give us some time to think. I know Magnus died fighting SixShot. Even so, if he was revived, it’s possible he wouldn’t be quite the same. He might be taking a more aggressive stance to make up for some of the passive traits that got him killed.”
Rodimus was glad for once to have Springer at his side, he was always compulsive and borderline condescending, but then again he always functioned under pressure rather well. Still, the thought of his old mentor being alive disturbed him. Even more disturbing was the other possibility.
”What about the stuff he said about Optimus?” he muttered back.
“Well,” Springer chuckled, “there’s only one way to find out if any of that crap is true.
The Matrix had started to burn within him when Ultra-Magnus had mentioned Prime. Rodimus Prime made his decision.
“Autobots! Code Red! Activate Shields and prepare for atmospheric re-entry! I’m sure you’ve all seen the vids and have a lot of questions, but stay on your guard as nothing may be as it seems.”
As the shuttle struggled against the turbulence Rodimus retreated into his thoughts. Time to put your game face on, he thought to himself, not entirely able to forget his last encounter with Optimus when the Quintessons had revived him the first time. Had it not been for the intervention of the Matrix, Optimus would’ve ripped him to pieces. I won’t be so gullible this time, he thought to himself.
************************************************************************
He’d heard the reports from Ox and Punch; Ultra-Magnus was getting carried away again. The Techno-Bots had assured them that all their memory ingrams were intact, but Optimus couldn’t help but think that something had gone wrong during the core transfer. Magnus seemed different somehow; he had been brooding since they’d retrieved him from his “grave” and brought him back into the ranks. Now, with Rodimus back along with a large contingent of some of Cybertron’s most legendary Autobot warriors, things would be easier. No doubt, Rodimus would want to give up the Matrix, in a way this was good because only the Matrix would be able to shed some light on his former self, fill in some of those blanks he still had. Of course, there was still the matter of Magnus. He had calmed down since their return from Earth and the defeat of OmegaTron. He’d even given up attempting to usurp Primes authority once he’d realized Prime no longer held the Matrix…The Matrix, realization dawning on Prime. Rodimus doesn’t stand a chance if he hesitates. I have to get to the docks of Iacon!!
“WildRide! Skidz! Smokescreen! JoyRide! TowLine! SpeedBreaker! I want you all with me! Transform!”
The last shuttle was just settling down on pad 6 when Optimus Prime and his convoy arrived. Its ramp lowered like the maw of a Sandtromian Slug, and, after what seemed like an eternity, connected with the steel plates of the landing pad with a hollow din, yet nothing moved. There was no parade of Autobots emerging from the shuttles as the gathering crowd of Cybertronians cheered the arrival of their long departed comrades. No warm smiles, nothing but the eerie caution found only by explorers, and the crowd’s growing silence.
Optimus had a brief flashback of a message he’d received from the newly constructed Oracle days before. It had been a warning of deception through illusions…something most Transformers knew quite a bit about.
His mechanical senses blared a warning times louder than his own sirens.
“Autobots! Everyone! Dow-!” He never finished.
The huge Autobot shuttle exploded sending out a typhoon-like shockwave leveling the entire platform and generating an electromagnetic burst that shorted out most electrical devices in the immediate area…including the Autobot delegation on the pad, and, destroyed all unshielded computers within a hectare of the blast.
But… Optimus Prime was no mere Transformer. He alone had cheated death time and again over the millennias, he alone had been designated Prime without the enhancements of the Matrix, he alone had been deemed worthy through the grace of Alpha Trion’s Mechanical wizardry. Such wanton destruction would not go unanswered.
“Optimus Prime!! Battle Mode!!” The red, momentarily defeated, form heaved itself into the air, merged with the attached operations platform, and landed with an equally impressive thud.
Almost before he landed the shuttle’s remnants seemed to erupt , like a volcano, from within as Autobots swarmed like ants from the wreckage.
“Autobots! Show ‘em what you’ve got!” commanded a crimson warrior with flames as bright as a solar flare blazing upon his chest. “I only need one prisoner…and that’s the wannabe Optimus Prime!!”
Prime stood, baffled by what he’d just heard. Had Rodimus gone mad? What was he thinking? There had to be a logical explanation, and he was going to get those answers. All original intent cast aside, he transformed and gunned his engines heading directly for what was left of the shuttle’s ramp and Rodimus.
Chapter 4: Chaos
Optimus Prime had covered two thirds of the landing zone before the offending Autobots realized his approach. Whirl, who was providing aerial observations, notified Quickswitch and HardHead who quickly moved to intercept the large red fire engine. Duros, monitoring the red fire truck’s trajectory from his cockpit within HardHead, radioed its movements to both Autobots.
“He’s headin’ right for Rodimus an’ ignorin’ us,” Duros yelled in a panic.
“No need to scream, I’m right here,” HardHead replied gruffly. ”Quickswitch, as tanks we’ll never stop that ‘bot in time…”
“I’m on it,” replied Quickswitch who had already converted into his orbital attack craft mode.
Almost there, thought Optimus seeing the gap between he and Rodimus closing rapidly. But his attention was drawn to the sound of heavy thrusters to his left. The distraction caused his course to deviate only slightly, however it was just enough to avoid the volley of blast unleashed by Hardhead. It was also enough to make him aware of the large grey and green craft approaching him at a phenomenal rate. He knew there was no way for him to avoid a collision on his current course, so slamming on the brakes he spun his form away from the threat, but was amazed to see the form shift almost instantaneously into a rocket powered laser drill as it passed; its direction changing with its form so that it would be able to ram Optimus from behind. His processors humming Optimus transformed while still spinning using centripetal force to fling himself clear of Quickswitch’s drill. Still in midair his optics caught sight of Whirl who was still monitoring the battle. An ice-skater performing a roulette, Optimus spun himself into Whirl extending his leg at the last moment for a spectacular spin kick. Whirl’s cockpit crumpled shedding glass tears onto the battlefield below. As the helicopter began its decent, Optimus then grabbed onto Whirl’s landing rails, offsetting his own center of gravity, hurling him into the landing deck.
Rodimus, whose attention had been drawn by Whirl’s demise, couldn’t believe what he’d just see the rogue, red robot do…then again, nor could Optimus.
“What have I done?!” Optimus all but wailed. So startled was he at destructiveness of his actions, he didn’t see Rodimus targeting him, but Joyride was on it, firing his photon blaster as he transformed and joined with Hotwire, he managed to knock Rodimus’ rifle from his hands and tackle him.
Unfortunately for Joyride, though, Rodimus’ rage over the injuring of Whirl had left him somewhat uninhibited. As Rodimus slammed into the ground, the Matrix, seethed with the unholy energies imbued upon it by Rodimus’ fury, in return filling him with unnatural strength and agility; and as Joyride attempted to subdue him Rodimus reached up and tore Hotwire from his cradle disrupting Joyride’s functions and sending Hotwire into system shock. Then, like a pitcher throwing a strike, Rodimus hurled Joyride’s lifeless body straight at Optimus. Prime, still getting his bearings, never saw it coming, and was bowled over like so many pins.
Rodimus wasted no time; allowing his motion to continue, he scooped up his weapon and proceeded to launch himself across the short distance between him and the former daunting, futuristic, fire truck with the intent of eliminating him. He could see the bulky, red robot was still trying to recover from the blow he had dealt him, but he had no intent of letting him regain his equilibrium; it was time to finish this fiasco…and find Prime.
*****************************************************************************
Ultra-Magnus grinned from audio receptor to audio receptor. Everything was going even better than planned. His memory had served him well, and Rodimus was as impetuous as ever and Prime, well Prime was being his normal goody, goody self. Of course, he did all but slaughter Whirl, Magnus thought. I’ll actually need to re-evaluate my personal assessment of Prime. I can’t afford to underestimate him at this stage of the game.
There was a faint shuffling from behind him, but he never turned. “So, Double-Dealer…what news do you bring?”
“Nothing new, the Decepticons still are without a leader, and they continue to fractionate themselves into smaller factions. You and Prime really dashed their hopes when you defeated and imprisoned OmegaTron. However, I think their hope really lay in the Dark Prime. He’s the only Decepticon, since Megatron that stood a chance at rallying the Decepticons under one flag.”
“He’s also the only worthy adversary your bunch has thrown at us in a long time as well,” muttered Ultra-Magnus.
“I’m hurt. You still don’t believe I am loyal to the Autobot cause?” Double-Dealer replied sheepishly.
“I don’t believe…I know you’re not loyal to the Autobot cause. You’re lot loyal to anything but yourself,” Magnus leered.
“Careful, the same could be said about you,” Double-Dealer retorted.
“Touché, but, remember your place, this plan must proceed without hindrance,” said Magnus sternly.
“I remember. You just remember our deal!” said Double-Dealer, and just as quick he transformed into a huge bird of prey a silently soared off towards the Trench of Isator. Ultra-Magnus was alone once again.
“I’ll remember… I’ll remember,” he muttered gravely.
***********************************************************************
Prime couldn’t believe the way things were going. It had to stop, no matter the cost. He was just getting to his feet when realized the figure approaching him from behind. He tried to turn, but it was too late, Rodimus manhandled him upright and shoved his fully charged plasma rifle right up to his optics. As their optics met the shock was apparent.
“Prime?!” Rodimus managed to sputter, not quite as question but also not really a statement.
“Yes Rodimus, it’s me,” the exhausted Prime stated declaratively.
“Bullshit!” Rodimus replied unequivocally, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 5: Beginnings
Optimus Prime’s CPU had only a microseconds to process the events unfolding before his vision was engulfed in light…and then… there was darkness.
It seemed an eternity had passed, then, like a thawing mosquito, Optimus’ consciousness crept back online and he was immediately overcome by a wave of vertigo. Like a politician pushed from an airplane, the Prime flailed about to no avail in the abyss grasping for anything to which he could grab hold and stabilize himself. My equilibrium circuits must have been knocked offline by Rodimus’ blast, he thought to himself. After running several internal tests, however, it became painfully apparent that all his systems were functioning at peak efficiency. A second thought oozed like molasses into his thoughts. Am I dead? Optimus desperately fought to keep his logic circuits from shorting out as the questions began to clog his processors. It was a valiant attempt, but only an attempt. Shortly thereafter Primes consciousness flickered offline once again.
***********************************************************************
To Ultra-Magnus the events he had just witnessed unfolded like shadows from the dawn. He could hardly believe what had happened. Never in a vorn would he have believed Rodimus competent as a leader, but now…
“Wedge? You and the Build-bots report to the Iaconian ports immediately!” Magnus growled into his com,
“We gonna kick butt or what Mags?!” came a quick and eager reply.
“A little bit of both…just get your team into position and await my orders. I’ll just need you to keep Rod’s lackeys busy while I take him,” Magnus answered dryly.
“We’ve got your back Blue, Wedge out,” came the response.
That enthusiastic runt will go along way if he keeps it up, Magnus thought to himself.
An explosion on the battlefield below rocked him from his thoughts. Order was beginning to pervade the ranks of the defending Autobots. They had begun an attempt at a scissor maneuver around the offending Autobots but clearly Rodimus’ forces held the upper hand with Prime out of the picture. Prime…the lifeless, red form lay like a crumpled tin can almost camouflaged by the surrounding shuttle wreckage. Ultra-Magnus was still impressed at how quickly Rodimus had eliminated the Autobots vaunted leader. Optimus hadn’t even resisted. The Optimus of this Universe had always been, for a lack of a better description, rather complacent. At least it appeared Rodimus would offer more resistance, he would relish the challenge. Of course, he’d then rip the Matrix from Rodimus’ flaming chest and smelt him down like so much scrap.
He glanced briefly at the scene below, again, and seeing Wedge and his group moving astern of the offenders he transformed a rolled towards his target like a locomotive with failed brakes.
*******************************************************************
Awareness had returned and with it the disorientation and questions, but Prime quickly quelled the impending overload by redirecting his attention to running system checks. Next, a circuits and network check, followed by structural and motor control analysis, completed by a complete diagnostic run. Amazingly, everything checked out in the green. I must be dead, he rationalized. Resigning his fate to Primus Optimus Prime dimmed his optics and ceased resisting the call of the pit of darkness.
If he’d had a mouth he’d have smiled. How ironic he thought, that a fellow Autobot felled me and not a Decepticon. He wondered about the destiny of the Autobots, Cybertron, and even the future of the Transformer race itself. Then oddly enough he found himself wondering about the truth of the human myth about a light at the end of the tunnel. I wonder what it will be like, He asked himself. As if in response to his question, a pinhole of light appeared in the maw of the black abyss, its radius growing in size, as does the ground when falling. The lights intensity had grown so great that Optimus’ temperature sensors registered the change. What’s this? Optimus wondered as he grudgingly brought himself online, but a circuit shorting impact that sent aftershocks through his frame like a Californian earthquake shattered his thought process. The optical static had almost cleared by the time Prime got his bearings, but what he saw only confused him more.
“What is this place?” he wondered allowed. The silence was foreboding, like a tomb, yet the scene was Cybertronian in nature…but it wasn’t the Cybertron he knew. It was definitely a golden age, but where was everyone? He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know, but even more concerning to him was the nagging feeling that he should know. Figuring he should cover more distance, Optimus transformed and floored his accelerator. He had traveled about 50 miles when he saw the dome. Iacon, he gasped mentally. There was no mistaking such a prominent landmark. Optimus couldn’t believe his eyes, Iacon in all its glory, Sentinels and all. “So beautiful, I don’t think Iacon has ever looked so splendid, “he said aloud while transforming.
Suddenly, he realized he had seen such a sight, it had just been many Vorns ago, and as if a match had been touched to fuel, memories exploded in Optimus’ processor. Staggering on the brink of a massive memory overload, Optimus stumbled and fell. He remembered who he was, before GigaTron, before proto-form technology, before Galvatron, before...Megatron? The cobwebs were clearing from his databanks, but not completely, and all the answers led to more questions. Optimus no longer believed he was dead, but if not…where was he? It was time he found out. Standing, he was about to transform when a hand reached out and tapped him on the shoulder. Instinctually Optimus whirled around, grabbing at his would be assailant, only to stare at the face of someone he was sure he should know but didn’t.
“Hi there big guy,” the young ‘bot said. “I’m Orion…Orion Pax. I’ve never seen you around, what brings you to the Iacon district?”
***************************************************************************
Rodimus’ Autobots were gaining the upper hand. It won’t be long, thought Rodimus, but was cut short by the rumbling of an oncoming turbine engine, which according to his logs, he now realized, had been growing audibly closer over the past 30 micro-cycles.
The sound was reminiscent of Primes engines, but on steroids. Well, well, well, Rodimus thought as a smug grin crossed his face. The old man’s shadow’s finally going to show.
“Kup, Fastlane, Cloudraker!” Rodimus radioed.
“What’s up?” replied Kup, with the clones “Roger, Rodimus,” following shortly.
Rodimus knew he would be occupied with this “new” player so he didn’t want any distractions
“I need you all to cover me. I suspect Ultra-Magnus is approaching my position as we speak, and I’m gonna need you all to ensure nothing gets in my way,” he quickly instructed.
“Rodger dodger Rodimus,” quipped Cloudraker.
“Rodger dodger Rodimus,” spurted Fastlane almost simultaneously.
“We’ve got the situation under control lad,” Kup finally responded.
Now, thought Rodimus, I only need one more piece for my puzzle.
“Quickswitch! HighBrow! Run aerial support!” Rodimus called, then turned to meet his opponent.
“It’s about time Mags. I was beginning to think you’d gone and turned chicken on me,” Rodimus taunted as the massive blue and white vehicle transport pulled up.
“Well… you know me, runt. I didn’t want you to lose your oil in front of you troops... Besides, I was waiting to see if you would get all mushy over offing your daddy,” Ultra-Magnus baited back smoothly as he transformed.
“Well, at least you’ve picked up a few new lines since last I saw you,” Rodimus retorted.
“Get a good look then, boy, because I’m going to put you back in your place,” cracked Magnus.
“Hardly old timer,” said Rodimus wearily, then, “What do you want Magnus?!”
“It should be obvious, dummy. I want the Matrix. So go ahead and spare yourself the humiliation and hand it over.” Magnus demanded taking a step forward.
“The only thing obvious, is that I think I liked you better dead,” snapped Rodimus.
“Talk is cheap,” roared Ultra-Magnus and lunged at Rodimus. But Rodimus was already in motion, sidestepping, the butt of his rifle connected with the back of Magnus’s cranium, slamming the massive ‘bot headfirst into the pavement. Ultra-Magnus’ receptors were screaming as his slide came to a stop. Not bad, he admonished himself. This is not going to be as easy as I assumed. Rodimus has definitely grown up, but no matter, the Matrix will be mine!! Righting himself, Ultra-Magnus changed tactics and rushed Rodimus again. Rodimus leveled his rifle at Ultra-Magnus and fired. Magnus, however, had been expecting this and switched into flight mode, launching himself over Rodimus and his rifle’s blast, and with a quick spin landed behind him. His soles had barely touched the pad’s plates, and Magnus had already brought his cannon to bear.
“Bye, bye Rodimus!” he almost trilled, knowing Rodimus would never be able to maneuver fast enough. Of course, it really didn’t matter because before Magnus could pull the trigger one of QuickSwitch’s missiles slammed into his back. Skidding face first past Rodimus, he narrowly was able to dodge Rodimus’ pile driver. With Rodimus picking himself back up, Ultra-Magnus quickly scanned the battlefield. It was pretty much a stalemate, but Rodimus’ minions controlled the situation from the air. Time to level the playing field, Magnus thought activating his comm. “Wedge! Clear the battlefield!” he commanded.
“Ready as ever Mon Capitan,” was Wedge’s anxious reply.
What’s he waiting for? Rodimus wondered, but the commotion behind him told him an ace had been played. Turning he saw some of his support scattered by a yellow bulldozer that looked a lot like the Decepticon Scrapper, and a cadre of three other construction vehicles, that were trashing several of his troops,drawing the attention of his aerial units. Something about the view pulled at his processors. Well, at least there’s only four, he thought then stared in dismay as the yellow ‘Bot transformed and launched himself into the air yelling one word, “Combine!!!”
“Dammit!” Rodimus shouted to no one in particular even before the massive gesalt began stomping on his troops. As the monstrosity lumbered forward firing a barrage of lasers at his airborne warriors, Rodimus’ thought matrix reeled as it attempted to generate a new strategy. Then it dawned on him; “****!” he said whirling around firing his wrist mounted photon chargers at the spot where Ultra-Magnus had been. It had all been an elaborate distraction; Magnus was still on top of his game. As his blast failed to connect with a target, his optics darted searching for his quarry. Magnus, stood to the left of his original position with a smirk on his face place, his rifle aimed directly at Rodimus.
“A little wide I’d say,“ he quipped, “Your getting slow in your old age.”
“I won’t give you the Matrix, Magnus,” Rodimus spat defiantly.
“You won’t have to, runt,” was Ultra-Magnus’ reply.
“Huh?” said Rodimus, trying to figure out where the conversation was going.
“Simple,” smiled Magnus, “And I would have waited an eternity to say this…it’s over…Prime!!”
Even before the words registered in Rodimus’ audio receptors Ultra-Magnus’ rifle’s blast tore through his emblazoned torso sending him careening across the landing pad. The ongoing commotion from the duo’s growing battle had become so great that many of the warriors from both sides of the conflict had ceased firing at one another, and had begun gathering around the two. Ultra-Magnus didn’t even wait for Rodimus to fall before leaping like a tiger upon him and slamming his pile driver-like fist into Rodimus’ faceplate.
“I’ll rip out your optics,” Magnus growled even as one Rodimus’ optics shattered under his blows.
“Not today Magnus,” Rodimus responded while still struggling to push the larger robot off of him.
“Come off it, Rodimus. We all must die sometime…Now give me the Matrix,” Magnus roared tearing into Rodimus’ torso.
“Never!!!” screamed Rodimus firing his photon chargers into Ultra-Magnus’ side at point blank range.
The resulting explosion threw Magnus about fifty feet, and left a three foot hole in his thigh that eliminate his use of his left leg, partially disabling him. More and more warriors had begun to stop their fighting to watch, and a crowd was growing. Sparks showered the ground, falling from the massive tear in Rodimus’ chest cavity, as he struggled to his feet. At the other end of the crowd created arena Magnus was doing the same, with lubricant leaking from his damaged frame. As the two warriors squared off once again, no one notice the stirring of the crumpled red form at base of the wrecked shuttle that was now one of the sidelines.
“This ends now Magnus!!” yelled Rodimus as he launched himself towards his nemesis.
*****************************************************************************
“No…it is only beginning, “ chuckled the dark winged robot monitoring the battle from a security screen within an isolated section of the Autobot’s Top Security Facility in what remained of the Istoral Trench, “it is only the beginning.
Chapter 6: The One
The day spent with Pax had been enjoyable, albeit a strange one and Optimus could not shake the feeling of de ja vois. But the day took an ominous turn shortly after the 5 robots, with aerial alt-modes had mysteriously appeared in Orion’s office after he and Pax had completed a noon tour of the energon factory where he worked. Alarmingly enough, he soon realized that they were the AerialBots, and that he had not initially recognized them. Pax had just excused himself to retrieve some refreshments when SlingShot had walked through the door. Even more disturbing than the fact that the AerialBots seemed unaware of his presence was that even Orion, upon his return, seemed oblivious to his absence. Intrigued, Optimus followed the six robots, like a ghost, for another cycle and a half, only to be rewarded with reliving a nightmare he had long forgotten.
The scuffle had been brief but vicious. With unbelievable determination, the blue and red form of Orion Pax had charged the platinum colored Decepticon. Megatron’s particle cannon had blasted again and again at an angle across his target’s neck and torso. Almost immediately, Orion had lost the use of his right arm and leg, and had cried out with pain. Filled with a sudden rush of fear, he had spun around, as do all falling leaves, and crashed into one of the many surrounding stacks of energon cubes, scattering them. His adversary did not relent, and subsequent cannon blast found their way to other hapless dockworkers, dock equipment and even some of the energon cubes. Without ceasing Megatron’s mayhem continued, and his display of destruction ended with a well-placed shot through Ariel’s chest-plate as she rushed at him, effectively off-lining her. Frantically, the disabled and disoriented Orion arched in silent agony, reaching up with his left hand to claw at his attacker. Then with coherency dissipating, in a final frenzied activation of his thrusters, he leapt screaming into the air in a desperate attempt to use his own body like a missile. Megatron, however, just laughed maniacally and fired. Orion’s cries were silenced as Megatron’s final shot severed the connections between Orion’s central processor and body.
The carefree, red and blue dockworker’s form fell like a meteor to the ground and, with a final shudder, Orion went still. The Decepticon’s mouth twisted into a grin as he walked over and picked up Pax’s broken form by his throat. He inspected his victim’s damaged frame for any sign of life. Finding none, Megatron tossed Orion Pax’s body, as easily as one might toss a piece of styrofoam, aside. Seeing no other opposition, Megatron quickly examined the dock and chuckled. “Let this be a lesson,” he said to no-one in particular, “To all who would dare think of opposing me.” Then he turned briskly and began issuing orders to Skywarp and his legion of transport drones. Prime’s shock induced paralysis was overcome by his rage and he rushed Megatron only to pass through his bulky form as easily as a hot knife though butter. Megatron paused as his sensors registered a brief but sharp temperature drop in his immediate area, and then, as if on cue, departed as nonchalantly as he’d come. The anxiety consumed Prime, but as he observed the energon being loaded, he caught a brief glimpse of the AerialBots creeping towards the body of Orion Pax.
Orion Pax lay on his back in a slowly spreading pool of his own energon. A few sparks continued arcing from his neck, right shoulder, and torso where a considerable amount of damage had been incurred. Especially, noticeable was the damage to his torso, where there was now a gaping hole where Megatron’s particle beam cannon had disintegrated most of his chest-plate. His blue optics flickered fitfully as his systems started to shut down in the face of major damage. His self-repair systems were entirely focused on sustaining his laser core and main fuel lines, and a flurry of error messages scrolled their way across his fading optics.
Past them, Pax saw for a moment the faces of his would be rescuers. Eerie in the smoke distorted soft pink light of the remaining energon cubes, he saw the group of what he guessed to be Decepticon seekers, but with blazing and narrowed blue optics. Further down the robot’s bodies, he was dazedly astonished to see that his saviors wore the Autobot symbol before he once again realized that these were the strangers he had met with earlier. His systems swiftly shutting down into preservative stasis, the dockworker nonetheless muttered his last words softly, “Save Ariel.”
"We must save him!” rasped SlingShot.
“But where can we take him?” replied SilverBolt.
“I don’t know, but we gotta do somethin’,” was AirRaid’s answer.
“I know. I know. But where do we go? Who can help?” SlingShot stated.
Pax fought for his existence, and, with a sudden horrified realization, Orion Pax also realized that he had been a fool to idolize the Decepticons, and it was his foolishness that had cost him not only his life but also that of his beloved Ariel, and his most trusted friend Dion. “Let me die,” he gasped, then went offline forever.
Optimus was racked with guilt. The young ‘bot had trusted him and he had let him down, just as he had Rodimus. Still not understanding why the AerialBots had apparently not been able to register his presence, he followed them, an unwilling captive of unknown circumstances.
************************************************************
At one time, long ago, Alpha Trion had been a leader in the most pivotal battle in Cybertronian history, the Great Rebellion against the Quintessons. Later he’d been renowned as a leader in the field of Cybertronian design. It was a grand past that he had all but forgotten in the last megavorns as he’d hidden himself, to avoid any part in the current confrontation. He had succeeded, until recently, when the last great, but arrogant, leader of the Autobots, Sentinel Prime in one of his saner moments, had barged into his access way and commanded him to take and protect the Matrix once again. Only a short while later he had learned that Sentinel Prime had paid the ultimate price for his bullying. It had been so long since he had last been charged with this responsibility that the memories were just now starting to filter back to him. He had resented the order of course, and had refused to lead the Autobots when the Council had come to him later. He had justified his actions by saying that Transformers should not fight amongst themselves, that it was up to one of the factions to turn the other cheek in order to end the hostilities. The council had accepted his decision on the basis of his reputation, and because he carried the Matrix of leadership, they that believed his words were guided by the wisdom of the ancients. Even he had thought at the time that it was the best course of action. But, he had been wrong…a new breed of Decepticons had risen from the older ranks and used the opportunity of stagnant bureaucracy to slaughter, subject and reprogram many Autobots. Weeding out the weak and corrupt, that’s what they’d called it, and they still hadn’t stopped. Alpha Trion blamed himself. Never again, he thought himself. It was time for a new leader to take the reigns and correct for his mistake. I am no longer worthy and failed my brethren, but where will I find a worthy replacement, he wondered. As if in response to his question, a loud banging at the door to his shop jarred him from his thoughts, and when he unlocked the portal the sight that greeted him further confused his processors. Five strangely configured Mechanoids who wore the symbol of the Autobots, but clearly had aerial alt-modes becoming popular among the new Decepticons, held the crumpled form of an Autobot.
“He needs your help,” stated the big one plainly. “We were told to bring him here…that if anyone could help it would be you.”
Alpha Trion almost slammed the door. It must be some kind of Decepticon trick, he thought. “I am sorry, but I cannot help you. They’ve been bringing others in just like your friend all day,” he replied. “If he needs repairs I suggest you take him to the next city.”
“But, you gotta help, that bastard Megatron all but killed him, we were told that if anyone could save him it would be you!! How can you deny a chance to someone who deserves one,” yelled one the smaller ‘Bots.
“He is beyond help, I cannot save him…” Alpha Trion replied and started to close the portal but the large mech stepped forward obstructing his intention.
“You call yourself an Autobot? Your worst than a Decepticon, even they’re willing to put forth more of an effort than you…maybe that’s why they’re winning the war…maybe that’s why Prime was so disappoi-“
“Prime?!” Alpha Trion’s stifled outburst cut SlingShot off.
“AlphaTrion!” Optimus shouted. At last another Autobot who realized he was present. Maybe he could explain what was happening, but AlphaTrion was silent and didn’t take Optimus long to realize AlphaTrion had just been responding to Slingshot. I must be dead, he thought. Then again, why had Pax been able to communicate with him?
The Matrix sleeping within his chest awoke with a surge, and immediately Alpha Trion’s curiosity was piqued.
“Your words have brought me humility young one. I will help this one if I can. I do detect a strong spark within him, but I must warn you, his frame seems beyond repair and he may not make it. I had been developing a new way to rebuild our robots to fight the Decepticons, but now... go, and leave me to my work.”
After he had secured Orion Pax to his workbench, he ushered the five, strangely familiar robots out, and began to work.
"Fuel pump, here . . . filtration subsystems, check ... subspace generator, yes. This goes here…easy…and yes!"
Quickly he became aware of how futile repair of Orion’s broken frame would be and turned to his secondary option…complete reconstruction. Alpha Trion muttered incessantly as he worked, a quiet symphony composed of his own voice, the beeping of instruments, the flashing of ‘scopes, and the arcing of his repair tools. The damaged frame of Orion Pax lay deactivated and half-disassembled on the low table. For cycle after cycle he worked, pausing only to recharge. He made adjustment after adjustment in the internal systems of the red and blue replacement frame he had built for the terminal mech, using every trick he had ever learned, knew, and/or theorized to increase reflexes, efficiency, and power...along with pieces borrowed from his collection of Decepticon carcasses. All the while Optimus watched on in awe of his mentor.
For the first time in untold vorn, AlphaTrion did not question the motive of his desire to create, rebuild, fabricate, and tinker. He became caught up in the work, using skills not employed in over a thousand vorns. The cache of parts surrounding his workbench became a trove of treasures, like of a puzzle. With the Matrix focusing his mind and skills, the wizened old robot chuckled as he worked, occasionally babbling about the inane rational behind the Second Cybertronian War, his pity for the Decepticons, as well as his usual litany of self doubt over his very purpose. As his efforts began to take shape in the powerful form of the robot he was constructing, however, the thoughts and doubts began to diminish. So much time and energy had he devoted on this new project he began to ponder how best to maximize his results and resources. What was it that intrigued him so about this young Autobot from the docks? He could not escape being disturbed by this question. He paused in the midst of his delicate neural circuitry work, remembering, once again, that other project from the end of the last war. He remembered, and remembered it vividly, because it had been the first time he had been entrusted with the Matrix since his friend, and anti-adversary, Straxus had relinquished it to him; and the first time since the Pax Cybertronian Council had taken to appointing their leaders.
Long, long ago, it had been his own hands that brought to life the being, who would become a beacon of hope, and the first militarized leader of all the Autobots in the time that followed the first great war. Sentinel Prime had been among the most powerful of Cybertronians ever created, and once he’d been given the Matrix, it had somehow implemented its own modifications to Sentinel Prime’s magnificent body shell and he’d become nearly unstoppable. In the end, it had been the treachery of his own ego that had resulted in two deaths from a battle over leadership fought far from the reinforcements of Sentinel’s loyal cadre.
Fortunately, Sentinel Prime miraculously, and without logic, had somehow located Alpha Trion to once again to entrust him with the guardianship of the Matrix prior to his demise. Knowing that the object was once again in his care, AlphaTrion had reluctantly had to insure its safety, so that night he’d moved his lab to a location with a lower profile. Sentinel Prime, after extensive repairs by Alpha Trion, had once again returned to the battlefield, but this time without the Matrix. Despite the presence of a definitive leader, the Autobots had been overwhelmed by a new Decepticon icon known as Megatron. Megatron’s grievance with the Autobot’s political system had gained a following among the Cybertronians of the lower cast, who attempted to drive the Autobot leadership to death or into exile, and, led the planet into what became known as the ‘Great Persecution’. The Decepticons of the new age knew nothing of Alpha Trion, nor knew that the Matrix was no longer in Sentinel Prime’s possession. AlphaTrion became a recluse disappearing from the data tracks and memories of all but a few Transformers. He’d become a myth…and along with him…the Matrix.
AlphaTrion stopped his motions and looked down at the body shell on the table. The form and coloration were similar, yes, but different; the feeling, it was the same. This construction . . . it was fate . . . no! Destiny! His mind started to trail off, but he felt the need to continue reassert itself. Soon, it would be done and he would rest. He had to finish. The fate of Cybertron…perhaps the known universe depended on it. His will, bolstered by the Matrix, communicated an imperative through his aged robotic frame overwhelming his fatigue. Once more he approached the silent red and blue form on his workbench. It was time…time to finish what he’d begun.
Optimus watched on in bewilderment. What was AlphaTrion doing? Narrowed optics gazed down focusing intently upon the nearly completed inert shell on the rough workbench. As he gazed on, AlphaTrion took up his tools again to complete the delicate adjustments to the central processor required to connect Orion Pax’s laser core to the new body. He resisted the temptation to conform to the parameters of Cybertronics, and as he worked feverishly, ideas continued to enter his thoughts and as they did he acted upon them. He blended both Autobot and Decepticon sciences…and parts. No other Cybertronian could have performed the delicate adjustments in so little time.
The elderly figure, hunched over what once had been Orion Pax, had a deeper knowledge than his mannerisms would seem to have indicated. At one time, AlphaTrion had been the premiere body shell design specialist of all Cybertron, with extensive experience in modifying them for increased military capacity during the Second Cybertronian War. These modifications had occasionally included that almost forbidden of procedures; alteration of a Cybertronian’s primary programming. The purpose then had been to increase aggression and reflexes- until there had been one too many examples of the alterations working too well, even for Autobots.
AlphaTrion cautiously started on those modifications, receiving no warning from the instruments monitoring the reconstructed mech’s minute, but steady, vital signs. Perhaps, he thought as he continued to increase the naturally aggressive tendencies of the young Orion Pax, he had learned enough to insure the modifications would be beneficial not only to Pax, but to the whole of Cybertron. This had to work; Cybertron depended on it. Without a second thought, the seasoned robot began skillfully insert other sequences. A strong will to survive and persevere was already present within the personality. But desire alone was not enough. Trembling, AlphaTrion knew that his own weaknesses lay in his self-consciousness and loathing of leadership- he much preferred researching, creating, not motivational support, stratagem and conflict. His place was behind the scenes- support and insight, but he vowed that Pax would not have those luxuries. Pax was a struggling survivor, and, ultimately, his current experience, along with AlphaTrion’s enhancements, if he was successful, would be able to rally the Autobot faction, which was also experiencing the same failings.
Strings of floating point, dodeca-numeric code were followed by minute physical adjustments with the central processor. Intelligence and processor speed - those were easy to upgrade. Endurance, patience, steadfast resolve, these were more ephemeral things and the aged Autobot did all he knew to increase them- the raw mind, the clay of a potter, under his fingertips. And then…he was done, making the final connections and closing the armored cranial covering over it all, leaving only the torsal cavity, devoid of all core components, open . . . ready for AlphaTrion’s final modifications.
“What-?!” the exhausted mech was suddenly startled as the Matrix surged power directly into his systems. Awed, Alpha Trion felt his own hands come to rest on Autobot sigil - the place under which the Matrix rested. At that moment his mind was abruptly transferred into the Matrix itself, and AlphaTrion found himself before an audience of five. Gasping, he realized that four of those individuals before him were previous hosts of the Matrix. The fifth, however, he did not recognize. The mech’s features seemed ever changing, yet, at the same time remained the same. It was that figure that approached him, and at arms length stopped. AlphaTrion was shocked to find that he was staring at himself. Like a mirror, he thought. But his thoughts were broken by the as the being began to speak. “A-3…you have been summoned here for a purpose. The spark you have saved is the spark of the one. You have given him a new body and new facilities to command. But…that is not enough! Your own spark has guided your actions significantly. Trust your instincts and our wisdom…do what has never been done before, and shall not be done after. Do what must be done to insure that all will be one.”
With a disorienting rush, AlphaTrion was once more in control of his own body. He now understood not only the purpose of Orion Pax, but his own purpose as well. Stepping away from his workbench AlphaTrion, walked over to a pile of metallic rubbish resting against the far wall and pulled at a dolly halfway buried beneath it revealing a secret niche. Carefully, AlphaTrion accessed a hidden compartment within the hidden space and retrieved a key like object. He then placed his palm interface into another slot in the niche. Silently the wall behind AlphaTrion slid aside exposing a hidden laboratory, effectively doubling the size of the workspace. Without hesitation he quickly transferred the new frame he had created to house Pax’s spark to the advanced support cradle in his hidden lab. He paused only for a moment to marvel at the aura emitted from the almost complete form he had created to save Pax’s life. Truly Primus must have been communicating with him through the Matrix; so unlike any of his upgrades, modifications or inventions was this daunting being he’d created. But, his task was not yet complete! All the advanced lab’s networks and systems were online and it was time to finish the job.
AlphaTrion quickly placed the unused portions of Orion Pax into the lab’s smelter, which reduced Orion Pax’s damaged remnants into a glowing pool of liquid fire. Not one to waste any resources, AlphaTrion had been reusing Pax’s usable components within the new frame he’d created as able, and now with the remainder now converted into a malleable form, he prepared his project for final integration. As the project neared completion, Optimus watched on. He was most disturbed by the nagging feeling that he should remember the events unfolding but couldn’t. I must be patient, he thought. It would do no good to allow himself to miss any of the details that were being presented; as they were all pieces to a bigger puzzle, and he needed all the pieces to get a clear picture.
While constructing Pax’s new body, AlphaTrion had constructed a mold of sorts in which he intended to create a reinforced cradle to house and protect Orion Pax’s new core and associated components. Now, he made use of his precision laser tools to modify the die ever so slightly. With the modifications complete, AlphaTrion poured most of the contents within the smeltering cauldron casting both the core and component cradle. That done he quickly assembled the parts and integrated them into the massive mech he had created. He now only needed to do four things to complete his project. The first two were easy. The third, the final adaptation of Decepticon technology to Autobot technology, to create a stable hybrid state for the technology, took longer. Finally, placing Pax’s core, the only part unused or integrated into the new frame, onto his workbench, AlphaTrion carefully extracted Pax’s intact neural interface and personality chip and integrated it into the new body he’d created. Almost before he had completed his diagnostic of the now fully restored Orion Pax, he activated the mech’s main generator. Diodes lit, motors moved, servos actuated, and fans whispered as the newly created laser-core began its boot process. Optimus, who had lingered like a shadow behind his mentor during the whole process, moved closer to the Autobot on the table. So strong was his curiosity that he failed to notice AlphaTrion’s extraction of the Matrix from his torsal compartment and so was unable to avoid the pulsating gem. He was also unable to avoid the inescapable vortex that extended from the Matrix to engulf him.
.I'm a little OCD so I prefer to post as many chapter as possible to keep the reader's interest held...but,if you'd like I post a few more chapters 
.Thanks for the post, and glad you enjoyed this much of the story.
