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PART 98

Bluestreak

I’m in a crater hiding under a corpse. Hopefully I can lay low here until the battle is over—until all the senseless killing stops.

The dead ‘Con’s wingspan is wide enough to cover me up completely. Hey... wait a minute... turns out I know this mech! Former Rainmaker... the red one. What was his name? I forget. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that this Decepti-creep fought for four million years only to end up dying on a planet that no one was even aware existed until like, basically yesterday.

Sorry. That’s not gonna be me.

Windcharger charges up the hill, leaving tire tracks by my head and exhaust fumes in my face. Two Decepticon jets are on his tail. One of ‘em fires a missile... he’s not fast enough to shake it. C’monnn, Windcharger! C’mon...! Oh, scrap! Scrap... he’s not gonna make it. The missile explodes, sending him crashing over onto his roof. He’s all smashed up.. wrecked beyond belief. It’s gory. I want to look away, but I can’t. One of his wheels skips past me on it’s way downhill, engulfed in flames.

Incredibly, Windcharger reverts to robot-mode and props himself up on one elbow. Wow... he’s still functioning. Good. Time for some payback. Thrust and Dirge transform and land at the edge of the pink Energon puddle pooling in front of him. Thrust aims his weapon. My hand tightens around the handle of my gun, finger on the trigger. I’m about to throw this heap off me and blast the gruesome twosome while their backs are turned shouting something like—
“I never met a Decepticon I didn’t dislike!”

But I freeze... I freeze up at the last moment.

Suddenly Thrust’s arm jerks back around so that the tip of his arm-rifle is now pressed against the side of his own pointy head. Dirge’s arms clang down to his sides, wrists bonded to his hips. They’re helpless. Thrust tries to bring his arm down, but he’s not strong enough to break Windcharger’s magnetic hold on it. Motors strain and spark. He cries out in desperation... he doesn’t wanna die. Finally, he drops to his knees... begging for mercy.

Just when I think I’m about to witness the termination of two of Cybertron’s worst, Windcharger collapses. He just shuts down. Come on... this can’t be real! Somebody cut us a break! Please...!

Thrust gets up off the ground. The two Seekers stare at each other until one of ’em begins to laugh... then they both spin around and unload their weapons into Windcharger’s chest. And then... silence. It’s eerie. No jets flying overhead. No bombs dropping. No screams, no shouts, just silence. A cloud of smoke hangs in the air over Windcharger’s body like a ghost. He’s gone. They killed him right in front of me and I didn’t do a damned thing to stop them.

I’m ashamed. But I’m not surprised at what I did... at what I couldn’t do. Alien races often wonder why we Transformers haven’t advanced much in our 12 million year history. Whole civilizations have come and gone in the millions of years that we’ve been at war. The reason for our stagnation? It’s because whenever we do exceed our limitations... whenever we go beyond our original tech specs, something catastrophic happens and we get booted back to who we were at the beginning. Back to our initial programming.

This war has us constantly starting over from square one as we all countdown to extinction.

‘Bots say that I risked my life to save Grimlock back at the Smelting Pool. They say that what I did was pretty courageous. The problem is—I don’t remember doing it. I took a dip in the Pool that day. The Dinobots scooped me out and Ratchet rebuilt me as good as new. The last thing I recall before waking up on a slab back at the Ark was awaiting execution in a cell in Polyhex.

That ‘Bot that risked his own hide to warn Grimlock about impending doom? That wasn’t exactly me. That was some upgraded version of me. A version where I somehow found a way to push my courage rating from two all the way up to ten.

Dirge turns in my direction, sniffing the air. “I smell... fear,” he says.

Wait. What? He can smell fear!? Fear has a smell!?

Dirge follows his olfactory sensors over to the crater where I’m cowering—

“Look, Thrust! I found another one! Hiding like a little rust-ridden retro-rat!”

I’m staring down the barrel of Dirge’s rifle. He doesn’t see the tip of my own rifle poking out from under the edge of the Seeker’s wing. He laughs... A photon flare makes him scream—but I’m not the one who shot him. More flares whiz overhead followed by a rocket missing it’s target. The Coneheads transform and take to the skies, leaving nothing behind but their contrails.

I slide out from under the dead ‘Con to see Sideswipe squatting down in front of Windcharger. The red parts of the little guy are already gray. There’s a gaping hole in his chest.

Sideswipe’s wracked with guilt. “He’s dead! Windcharger’s dead, Bro! Those dirty Decepticreeps—! If only I could have gotten here sooner...!”

“I uh, I...” It’s not his fault. It’s mine. For the first time in my function-cycle I’m speechless.

Skywarp pops in behind me and riddles my back with bullets. Sideswipe whirls around and sends a stream of photons his way …and misses. Skywarp’s already gone.

A drone rocket whistles through the air. Sideswipe yells “Take cover!”

But it’s already too late. The explosion blows him head over heels. Literally. He lands flat on his back with one of his legs in his lap. The other leg clunks down nearby in a cascade of rocks and dirt.

Thundercracker transforms and lands. Skywarp pops back in beside him with a smirk on his faceplate. Sideswipe mumbles incoherently as the two Seekers walk toward him.

BAROOM!

The sky sounded like it just exploded. Thundercracker looks up—

“Who was that, Skywarp?”

“It’s that traitor, Skyfire!”

The staccato sounds of laser fire accompany Skyfire’s thunderous sonic boom like heavy rain hitting the pavement. Relief! Skywarp and Thundercracker run for cover. Once Skyfire passes overhead they transform and vector in behind him. The hunter is now the hunted. I track them as their thrusters shrink away into the starry night... then I start crawling back to my hiding place.

When you’re crawling on your front end leaking Energon, a few hundred feet feels like a hundred miles. But I make it. I’m back now. I’m safe. Ready to wait until the battle is over under this big hunk of dead metal. What was his name? I still can’t remember.

“Gahh!” Oh, scrap! Did he just move!?

He did! The ‘Con rears up and wraps both hands around my throat. I wedge my hand under his chin, trying to force him off me. I’m yelling. He’s cursing. No one’s listening. My fingers fumble for my rifle. His hands are crushing my neck... cutting off the electrical flow to my cerebral circuitry. Nnnng... just a little bit more... got it! I pull the trigger and a bolt of lightning bursts through the top of the Seeker’s head. He slumps down on top of me, stinking of sizzled circuits.

He’s dead for real this time. But I’m not safe. Not really. Not until this war is over. I crawl out of the crater and drag myself to my feet. My weapon taps against my leg, still hot, ready to take more lives.

When will it end? When will all the senseless violence stop?

(Transformers Resolute will return after these messages)

Amazing chapter! (By the way, sorry about the shameless advertising... )

Tigerhawk7109 wrote:Amazing chapter! (By the way, sorry about the shameless advertising... )

Thanks! Staff puts excerpts from fan-fics in the transtopia round up now so I’m sure you’ll have plenty people checking out your stuff.

1984forever wrote:

Tigerhawk7109 wrote:Amazing chapter! (By the way, sorry about the shameless advertising... )

Thanks! Staff puts excerpts from fan-fics in the transtopia round up now so I’m sure you’ll have plenty people checking out your stuff.

Just hope we get a new edition of that soon...

PART 99

“Bottoms up!” Trailbreaker grinned, as he emptied the contents of the flask into his mouth. “Thanks for the fuel donation, fellas.”
“Don’t mention it,” replied Blaster. “We can’t have you conkin’ out on us in the middle of an operation.”
Trailbreaker jerked his thumb back towards Ironhide. “Probably wouldn’t need it if ol’ Ornery-hide over there hadn’t thrown a hissy fit.”
Wheeljack looked up from his work on Optimus Prime. The Autobot commander lay face down in the sand while Wheeljack poked around in his cranium casing with forceps extending from his index fingers.
“Don’t get ‘im started again guys,” he cautioned. “I think I may have just figured out a way to repair our leader!”
“Don’t cha worry yourself none about me, Wheeljack.” Ironhide grumbled. “I realize now that shuttin’ down this here Space Bridge is somethin’ that Prime would give his life for.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, for all our sakes.” Trailbreaker replied. “So Wheeljack... you say you mighta figured out a way to fix Prime?”
“I think so,” replied Wheeljack. “Okay... brain module reboot complete. Now I’ll just reconnect the spinal strut back to the cranial stem... screw back on the cranial cover... and now we’ll see what happens.”
Optimus Prime’s optics flared brightly for a second, then he rose to his feet.
“Thank you, Wheeljack. Autobots... although I was unable to move or speak after my other modules were destroyed, I could still see and hear everything that was happening. Our situation is most dire.”
“And it’s about to get a lot worse,” warned Blaster. “Look!”
Optimus Prime caught a glimpse of Laserbeak’s thrusters as the avian Decepticon rocketed away.
“There is no doubt that Laserbeak will alert Devastator to our presence here,” he said, touching a triangle on his lower forearm. A comm slid out of his helmet near his mouthplate and he began speaking into it.
“Jazz… what is the status of your squad?”
“The ‘Cons have me an’ Mirage pinned down in a cave,” Jazz radioed back. “With the exception of maybe Bluestreak, everyone else is either dead or deactivated.”
Optimus Prime sighed. News of lost soldiers always weighed heavily upon his spark.
“Skyfire already made a pass,” Jazz continued. “Now he’s busy dealin’ with Skywarp and Thundercracker. We’re on our own out here, Prime.”
“As are we, my friend. Let me know if your situation improves.”
“Affirmative. Jazz out.”
“Jazz’ team is worse off than us!” exclaimed Blaster. “What’re we gonna do, Prime?”
Optimus Prime looked over at Wheeljack. The engineer had quickly abandoned the idea of speeding up the Proton Nullifier and was now examining the Space Bridge itself, beginning with it’s Bumblebee themed console.
“Wheeljack, how is Bumblebee?”
“Online. His vocoder’s blown from screamin’, but we can still communicate usin’ his ah, windshield display screen.”
“Tell him that his current state saddens me, and that I will see to it that he is restored as soon as this operation is over. But I need you to ask him... has he garnered any information from the Space Bridge’s databanks during his integration?”
“He’s laughing. He says—I’m a spy. Of course I did.”
The message disappeared as soon as Wheeljack finished reading it and was replaced after a few moments by a wall of text.
“Ok, Bumblebee’s sayin’ that the Space Bridge operators didn’t always send their loads in a straight shot. To get stuff all the way over to the other end of the universe, sometimes they would send it to the nearest Space Bridge in another galaxy, and then from there to the next one—and so on and so on—until the cargo reached it’s final destination. This method conserved the three elements within the Space Bridges that make ‘em tick. Which are—if anyone’s interested—Electrum, Isidrite, and Korlonium crystals.”
Optimus Prime put his hand to his mouthplate. “So the further we send something away, the more the elements degrade.”
“That’s correct.”
“Is there still a working Space Bridge somewhere out there in the universe other than the one located in Kaon?”
Now Wheeljack put his hand up to his mouthplate. “Hmm. Most of ‘em were shut down during the plague. But the one on Chaar... at the old abandoned Trypticon prison, that’s still operational. The problem is we need to send somethin’ over that weighs at least two tons in order to finish depletin’ what’s left of the elements. Now where are we gonna find somethin’ that heavy?”
“Send me,” volunteered Trailbreaker. “My knees won’t bend, I can’t transform. I can’t roll outta here with the rest of you guys, and I sure as heck don’t want any of you gettin’ liquefied tryin’ ta carry my overgrown skid plate across that moat. I’ll take the trip to Chaar.”
“You’re sure about this Trailbreaker?” inquired Optimus. “I’m willing to go myself.”
“Nonsense, you’re Prime, Prime. You’re too important to us.” Trailbreaker insisted. “I’m just an old Energon guzzler... a drain on your resources. You ‘Bots are better off without me until we get this whole fuel shortage thing straightened out anyway.”
“That’s not true—“ argued Optimus.
“Aw, I’ll be alright. Just send Kup around to pick me up when you get the chance.”
thoom
Thoom
THOOM
THOOM
“You hear that rumblin’?” alerted Blaster. “Devastator’s comin’! Whatever you mechs got planned, I suggest you do it now!”
“Wheeljack, set the Space Bridge’s coordinates for Chaar,” ordered Optimus.
“On it, Prime!” A shadow crept over Wheeljack as he tapped the symbols on Bumblebee’s display screen. He looked up to see death looming above him.
“PREPARE... FOR DEVASTATION!”

(to be continued)

PART 100

Optimus Prime deployed his Energon axe. Ironhide, Blaster, and Trailbreaker raised their weapons. Wheeljack, however, couldn’t help but zoom in on a familiar device attached to Devastator’s weapon.
“Trailbreaker!” he yelled. “There’s a remote control circuit linker card on the side of his rifle! Jam it!”
The defense strategist activated the radio-jammer behind his head, flooding the airwaves with frequencies. Devastator squeezed the trigger to his solar beam rifle and the weapon began reconfiguring in the palm of his hand. An Earth-Auger missile launched from Hauler’s wrist at the exact moment that the last of his parts shifted into place. The projectile struck Devastator in the left optic and kept going, creating a ring of sparks with each staggered rotation as it bored deeper into the behemoth’s head. The Combiner clutched the side of his face with one hand and compacted Hauler’s flailing form with the other.
“Let go of him, you monster!” roared Optimus Prime.
His Autobots opened fire and Devastator released Hauler. Not because he had been compelled to by the blistering barrage of lasers and photons, but because Hauler was dead. The ‘Bot who the Constructicons once referred to as a brother crashed to the ground bearing more resemblance to a crushed car rather than a robot.
Suddenly, Devastator stumbled backward, clawing at his face with both hands and howling in pain.
“He’s finished!” shouted Trailbreaker. “Once Hauler’s drill-missile reaches Devastator’s brain, he’s a goner!”
Then, Devastator did what no one on the battlefield expected him to do. He tore off his faceplate, dug his thumb and forefinger into his eye-socket, and plucked the Auger out.
“NOTHING DEFEATS DEVASTATOR!” the enraged Combiner bellowed as he dropped to one knee and drew back his fist. “NOTHING!”
“Scatter!” ordered Optimus.
Devastator struck the ground in the middle of the Space Bridge so forcefully that his right fist plunged into the earth up to his elbow. Optimus Prime took advantage of the situation and leaped onto that arm, anchoring his axe deep into the Combiner’s armored skin. When Devastator tried using his other arm to grab him, Optimus vaulted himself up onto his shoulder and drew back his axe. The giant turned his head to avoid Optimus’ swing, and caught the combined firepower of three Autobots in the face.
The sonic fury of Devastator’s roar was so great that it caused what remained of the mountain range nearby to crumble. Many of the unprotected circuits and servomechanisms that comprised the Combiner’s facial components were aflame, burning brightly beneath the cold blue stars.
Storm clouds began gathering overhead, looking as though they might burst open at any moment to douse the flames.
“The Bridge is about to open!” warned Wheeljack. “Clear outta here!”
The engineer quickly retracted his hands and ignited the solid-fuel rockets in his forearms, then he shot off into the sky with an alt-formed Blaster wedged under his armpit. Optimus Prime jumped off the gestalt’s shoulder and landed safely on the other side of the moat. Ironhide leapt onto Devastator’s discarded faceplate floating in the acid, taking care to avoid the solvents seeping in around the edges. Trailbreaker—critically damaged by Devastator’s attack—waved a sad farewell to his friends as a portal parted the air above him.
“THERE IS NO ESCAPE!”
Devastator slammed his fist down on the front section of the Space Bridge, causing a wall of the circular structure to collapse. Transdimensional energies arced like electricity over the Combiner’s body, crackling from component to component until it separated him into six half-transformed wrecks. Then, the entirety of the Space Bridge, it’s console, and Trailbreaker were all sucked upwards into the portal.
Wheeljack was dumbstruck.
“Wheeljack, please…” pleaded Optimus Prime. “Please tell me that Trailbreaker and Bumblebee arrived at their destination safely.”
Wheeljack whipped out his datapad. “Ah, according to the Bridge’s log, um... this can’t be right.”
“What? What does it say?”
“Well, my datapad’s sayin’ that ‘Bee and Trailbreaker arrived at the Trypticon prison side of the Space Bridge on Chaar about uh... one million years ago.”

(to be continued)

PART 101

“RRAAAGH!”
Megatron plunged his fist into the Nemesis’ main computer screen.
“How?” he railed. “How could this have happened?”
Starscream leaned back in his chair and smiled.
“Satisfied, Megatron? This is what happens when you leave buffoons like Blitzwing in charge of important assets.”
Megatron turned slowly to face him, shards of glass glistening on the uppermost parts of his armor.
“Starscream. The last time you were at the Space Bridge you travelled back to Cybertron and gathered up an army in an attempt to overthrow me.”
Megatron bent down and sneered in Starscream’s face. “You’ll have to forgive me for not allowing the same thing to happen twice!”
“Still... you should have put your trust in me. You can’t deny that every mission I lead has some degree of success.”
“Then the problem is with you!” Megatron snarled, aiming his fusion cannon at his Air Commander.
Starscream was shocked. “Me!? How!?”
“I’ll tell you how! It was you who should have been in command at the Space Bridge, but I simply could not trust you enough to station you there! You Starscream, are not only the highest ranking Decepticon under my command, but also the most untrustworthy!”
Starscream stood up out of his seat and backed away. “N-now hold on there, Lord Megatron!” he stammered. “Let’s c-calm down a bit.”
“If I am to win this war,” Megatron continued. “Then that situation must be rectified immediately!”
Starscream clasped his hands together. “Megatron...! All of my plotting against you is a thing of the past! You must believe me!” he pleaded. “Please... allow me to backtrack a little so we might find out where we um, really went wrong.”
Megatron lowered his fusion cannon. “Proceed,” he sighed.
Starscream tapped the screen of a smaller terminal in the corner.
“Well, let’s see... Thrust reported that he, along with several others, had two Autobots trapped in a cave when Devastator’s bellowing began bringing the mountains down all around them. They were forced to withdraw in order to avoid sustaining severe damages.”
“Hmf. Excuses,” scoffed Megatron. “And where were Thundercracker and Skywarp in all of this?”
“The Autobots were using Skyfire as air support. Skywarp and Thundercracker thwarted the traitor’s aerial attack and gave chase—but lost track of him somewhere over the Andes. It turned out that Skyfire had circled back to assist in transporting his injured friends away from the battlefield. Skywarp and Thundercracker returned sometime later to find the Constructicons offline and the Space Bridge missing. Thundercracker theorized that there had been some sort of accident.”
The Air Commander’s optics widened briefly for a moment. “They did find something very interesting on the way back, though.”
“What could those two dolts have possibly discovered that would make a difference now?”
“Insecticons. Swarms of them... ravaging the Midwest.”
Megatron laughed. “Perfect. We’ll let Prime expend his resources battling the Insecticon infestation, and once his troops are worn down... we’ll move in for the kill!”

The Ark

Brawn slammed his fist down on Prowl’s desk.
“Okay, spill it!” he demanded. “Prime won! He’s back! How was me demolishin’ all the unused portions of the Ark supposed to help out our pals anyway?”
“It wasn’t,” Prowl replied.
Brawn threw his hands up in exasperation. “Then what didja have me do it for?”
“Brawn, there is a distinct possibility that things transpiring right now on Cybertron will create the need for 63 astro-tons of durabillium steel here on Earth in the future. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Secrets and more secrets,” Brawn grumbled. “I don’t know why I even asked. Fine. Whatever. Keep your secrets. Teletraan’s got a transmission for ya.”
“Who is it?”
“I dunno!” Brawn shouted, as he stormed down the hall. “Some geek named Goldbug!”



Prowl crossed his arms in front of Teletraan-1’s monitor screen.
“Espionage director Goldbug. The mysterious ‘Bot who gives our deep cover agents their marching orders. I finally get to see your faceplate.”
“Hey Prowl! Long time no see.”
Prowl looked puzzled. “Why do you remind me so much of Bumblebee?”
“Because I am Bumblebee. Someday I’ll tell you my story—but I’m warning ya, it’s a doozy!”
“Hm. Okay, Bumble—I mean Goldbug... what have you got for me?”
“That Space Bridge that got sent back in time? Somehow Swindle got his greasy little hands on it. One of my agents says he took it to Earth... to a nation called Carbomya.”
Prowl shook his head. “It doesn’t matter if that two-bit hustler has it or not. The Space Bridge is drained... useless.”
“You’re missing the big picture here, Prowl. Swindle’s had a million years to repower it. Ya gotta get some wheels on the ground over there and get after ‘im!”

(to be continued)

PART 102

CYBERTRON

The still of the dawn is disturbed by three Tetrajets rocketing across bleak, overcast skies. For nearly 10,000 vorns, the abandoned structures of Tagan Heights have played host to only scavengers searching for spare parts or a few astro-liters of fuel. Today this city will see the return of the soldiers responsible for it’s current state of disrepair.
Today this city will burn.
“Commander Shockwave, this is Ion Storm. We have just spotted an Autobot convoy entering a large factory in the Bulkhead sector.”
“Does the installation have a code?” Shockwave inquired over the comm.
“Yes. A-3-85... a former starship manufacturing plant.”
“Commence bombing it immediately. I shall arrive in approximately two breems with mobile infantry to assist.”
“At once, Commander!”



“They’ve found us,” gasped Red Alert.
A dozen more of his fellow refugees from Iacon drove in through the entrance behind him, ushered in by Alpha Trion. Oblivious to the warning he had just uttered to Ultra Magnus. “A Decepticon attack is imminent!”
The building’s foundation shook and close to a hundred optic sensors shot upwards, focused on the ceiling as if it might fall in and crush them at any moment.
Alpha Trion looked bewildered as another series of explosions rocked the factory’s roof. All around him, soldiers gathered weapons, sub-commanders barked orders to their subordinates, and engineers began cursing themselves over their apparent lack of speed.
“They’ve come too soon,” thought Alpha Trion. “The Guardian is not yet ready.”
“Elita-1! Chromia! Firestar! Moonracer! Greenlight! Lancer! Get Alpha Trion out of here!” ordered Ultra Magnus. “The rest of you are with me. We fight until there’s nothing left to defend!”
Elita-1 made her way through the madness, wearing a plasma rifle on her shoulder and a worried look on her face.
“Alpha Trion!” she beckoned from the crowd. “There you are! Come! My squad and I shall get you to safety!”
Alpha Trion turned her way briefly, and then recommenced his struggle to pull a plasma cannon off the wall. A light blue hand slammed down hard on the weapon, preventing him from removing it from it’s mount.
“Surely you’re not thinking of staying and fighting, are you ancient one?” Chromia said with a wry smile.
“As a matter of fact, I am! If that is what is required of me.”
The expression on Chromia’s face morphed into one of amusement. “I assure you,” she laughed. “It isn’t!”
“Come on, old timer,” Greenlight giggled, as she and Lancer each grabbed an arm. “You’re with us!”
“Wait!” Alpha Trion protested. “We must sever the link to Vector Sigma!”
“There’s no time!” Elita-1 spat.
“We must make time!” argued Alpha Trion. “I shudder to think of the horrors our enemies could conceive if they were to gain access to it.”
“Very well,” Elita conceded. “Where must we go?”
“Not far... three floors down near our Energon stores. The conduit housing the cable leading to Vector Sigma has a break in it where a splice was made. It would be easiest to sever it at that location.”
“We’ll get there faster if we roll,” suggested Firestar.
“Agreed. Autobots, transform!” commanded Elita-1.
“Oof! Ah! Uhh...” Alpha Trion groaned, as his parts creaked and shuddered slowly into place. “It’s been so long since I’ve assumed alternate mode. Too long, in fact!”
“Wow!” exclaimed Moonracer, eyeing the elder’s sleek hovercraft form. “You must have really been something back in your day!”
“That I was, young one,” Alpha Trion chuckled. “That I was. Now, shall we—as Optimus Prime would say—roll out?”

(to be continued)

PART 103

The Rainmakers’ latest round of incendiary rockets caused the factory’s roof to collapse, eliciting screams from those inside. Autobots in a variety of alt-forms raced out of the building. Several of them opened fire, forcing their attackers to go into a series of evasive maneuvers that would have shredded any aircraft that wasn’t Cybertronian.
“Did you see the way they came scurrying out of the wreckage?” laughed Nova Storm. “Like angry ant-droids! Let’s swing back and exterminate them!”
“Nova Storm, wait!” commanded Ion Storm. “I’m detecting an energy surge coming from inside what’s left of that factory! We need to reassess—!”
The yellow Rainmaker mumbled something inaudible and broke formation. He dove down from the heavy cloud cover opposite his last known position, flanking an unwary group of enemy fighters still facing his old evaporating contrails. His machine guns tore into Tote and Powertrain’s armor plating, leaving the two Autobots spewing smoke while the rest scrambled to get out of his flight path.
That’s when he saw it. A legendary figure rising out of the ruins... a giant not seen since the end of the golden age... Omega Supreme.
The plasma beam that struck Nova Storm from the skies was as wide as his alt-form. The Seeker’s fiery demise resembled a Spark Day fireworks display to those witnessing his destruction from afar. The remains of his burning body showered the streets like little metal meteorites, leaving several onlookers running for cover.
“Nova Storm just bought it!” exclaimed Acid Storm.
“The fool deserved it for being so careless!” Ion Storm replied coldly. “I told him to wait!”
“DECEPTICONS... LEAVE, OR DIE.”
Omega Supreme’s grim warning registered clearly in the two Rainmaker’s audio-receivers, but they didn’t retreat. They reconnoitered instead.
“That relic is all bare wires and fresh welds,” observed Acid Storm. “Looks as though the Autobots were still sorting him out when we attacked.”
“Right,” agreed Ion Storm. “He’s vulnerable. So let’s whip up some bad weather to short his systems!”
The duo flew in opposite directions, circling their massive opponent every two astro-seconds and causing atmospheric disturbances with each pass. Lightning flashed and the clouds reddened around Omega Supreme as he felt the first few stings of the coming storm. “Keep seeding!” he heard the blue Seeker shout. “The clouds are about to burst!”
“WARNING IGNORED. INITIATING COUNTERMEASURES.”
Omega Supreme extended a clawed hand and Acid Storm snapped back towards it, drawn in by some unseen force.
“Tractor beam!” the Seeker screamed right before he slammed into the Guardian’s circular palm. “Can’t break free!”
Acid Storm transformed and opened fire on the giant claws closing in on him. One of his shots ricocheted, grazing his right shoulder and defacing the Decepticon emblem on his wing. He gnashed his teeth as the life was squeezed out of him, refusing to let his killer hear him scream.
Ion Storm soared around Omega Supreme’s mid-section and strafed his spine all the way up to his shoulder plates. The Seeker continued upwards into the clouds as a wad of flaming wreckage—incinerated by Omega Supreme’s cranium-mounted tank turret as he rocketed past his head.
A chorus of cheers rose up from the scattered Autobot ranks below.
“ZOWIE! Way to go, Omega!” shouted Warpath. “That’s showin’ ‘em!”
Their defender was unmoved. “CELEBRATION PREMATURE,” he cautioned. “SECOND WAVE APPROACHING.”
“How many?” inquired Ultra Magnus.
“FOUR HUNDRED... AND COUNTING.”

(to be continued)

PART 104

DROPSHOT

We learned from the Siege.

Shockwave sent my squad underground to cut off the Autobot’s subterranean escape routes while simultaneously attacking them on the surface. We’ve got the enemy surrounded on all sides. The only way out of this city is up, and take it from me—the opposition ain’t exactly known for their aerial abilities. They’re trapped.

Even three levels below the surface I can hear the battle raging above me. The buzz over our comm network is that the Autobots have unleashed a Guardian Robot. I can imagine Decepticons dying by the dozens trying to bring down that behemoth while their commanders stand back and watch.

A few astro-minutes ago our driller poked it’s snout into the enemy’s Energon depot. I rolled in right behind the big turboworm just in time to see Elita-1 chop it’s head off with an axe. Shockwave’s not gonna be happy when he finds out what happened to his latest lab experiment. Come to think of it, he won’t exactly be angry either. He won’t be anything. He’ll just stand there asking questions... computing, until he decides who performed below expectations.

Well one-eye, it looks like it was you who fell short this time. Apparently you didn’t build your beast tough enough because it got sent to the scrap heap by a spindly little Fem-bot. Logic dictates that maybe you should spend less time on the battlefield and more in the laboratory.

Anyways, Fem-force forms a half-circle around Alpha Trion while the antiquated old fool fusses with some cables. My ‘Cons advance, ready to take ‘em apart. No one on either side is stupid enough to squeeze a trigger in a room full of Energon (thank Primus) so the fight is all blades and blunt objects—
Lancer does a cartwheel and removes Half Track’s legs with her thermal sword.
Firestar cleaves through Roughstuff’s cranium casing with her Cryo-axe.
Ground Hog grabs Greenlight’s arm and strips it to the skeleton before she can yank it back. Wow! Talk about fast! Hog hasn’t slowed down an astro-sec since his days in the chop shops.

Oh no doubt about it—I’ll lose plenty of mechs in this skirmish, but we’ll prevail. We’ve got the numbers.

“Ya hear that, chief?” asks Growl, referring to the sirens blaring in the tunnel behind us. ”That’s the sound of someone comin’ ta screw with our plans.”
“Change of plans,” announces Barricade, as he reconfigures to robot-mode.
“Oh, what now?” I sputter.
“Shockwave wants some test subjects.”
“He’s got plenty to choose from up top.”
“You wanna go up there and tell Shockwave that yourself? No...? I didn’t think so. Look Dropsquat, or whatever your name is—“
“It’s Dropshot... we’ve met before—“
“Whatever! Too many Genericons, not enough memory chips. Okay, this is how this thing goes, Dropshot. I relay the orders from the brass, you follow ‘em. Clear?”
“Yeah... crystal. How many guinea pig-a-trons does Shockwave want?”
“Seven should be enough to satisfy ‘im.”

Elita’s crew plus Alpha Trion makes seven. Good... once my mechs finish bashin’ ‘em around a bit, I’ll hand ‘em over and get Barricade off my back bumper. Aw, scrap! Ground Hog’s already got Greenlight disassembled!

“Sorry Barricade, Shockwave’s gonna have to make due with six.”
“Nah, we can still make our quota.”
“How?”
“With one of these,” he says, holding a square plate with a faint, barely visible outline of a... faction symbol?
“What is that?”
“It’s a rub-symbol, kid. Before your time.” Barricade massages it until a greenish Autobot emblem appears. “Mini-spies used to wear ‘em to indicate to certain mechs that they were on the same side—and I can tell you from experience, they sure come in handy when you’re undercover and a fellow ‘Con has a gun pointed at your grille.”
“Okay, so what are we gonna do with it?”
“Don’t be dense. I’m gonna slap this on one of your mechs, charge ‘im with treason, and then you’re gonna corroborate my findings.”
The ex-cop reads the look on my face as if it were an unencrypted data pad. He doubles down anyway.
“Tell ya what,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder plate. “I’ll even let you choose which one of your troops takes the fall. That sound good? I think it does.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“What gave you the impression that I might be joking?”
“What if Shockwave finds out about what we did?”
“Trust me, he won’t care.”

Reluctantly, I follow him into the fray. So who’s gonna take one for the team? Growl’s out of the question, he’s my second-in-command. Blackjack? No, he’s my top advisor. Hyperdrive? Power Punch? They’re both loyal mechs, I would hate to have to lose either one of them. So who’s left? Ground Hog? Nah, too talented. Grease Pit? Road Hugger...?

“Made a choice yet?” growls Barricade.
“Yeah,” I reply, pressing my sidearm to the back of his head.
One shot and my chest is splattered with a dirty enforcer’s mech fluids.
The fighting stops. Everyone wants to see the numb node who let off in a room filled with Energon cubes.
Alpha Trion clears his throat. “Elita, hand me your plasma rifle.”
She unslings it and hands it to him, all the while never taking her optics off me. That stare... like fire and ice. Wow. I can see why she and Prime were a thing.
Trion aims the rifle at a wall of stacked sustenance.
“Well now,” he smirks. ”If we’re going to start shooting each other while surrounded by a billion astro-liters of volatility, then I fear that our destruction by detonation is inevitable. Please... allow me to remove the element of surprise from our predetermined demise. Some of us would prefer to see death coming rather than have it whisk us away when we’re not looking.”
“Yeah, right! Your cerebral circuits must’ve seized with age, Alpha Trion! You expect me to believe that you’re willing to blow yourself up—along with your bodyguards—just to destroy us?”
“Young warrior... everyone bearing an Autobot insignia abandoned any illusion of leaving this chamber as a functioning mechanism the moment your army poured into it en masse. That being stated, either our business concludes here, or our lives will conclude here. I have accomplished what I have set out to do and have shockingly little interest in what happens next.”
“Boss... think twice about calling his bluff,” warns Blackjack. “That’s A3, the ‘Bot who set off the rebellion against the Quints!”
“I know who he is, Blackjack!”
(Most gamblers are fairly good at calculating odds. I fold.) My troops transform and retreat. I back away wagging my finger in true leader-like fashion.
“You win this time, old ‘Bot! But next time... next time you won’t be so lucky!”
“I don’t forsee our paths ever crossing again,” replies Alpha Trion. “But mayhap you are a better judge of character than I, so anything is possible.”

Judge of character...? Who’s character? Cryptic words. I’ll have a long time to ponder what that old clunker meant as we head back to Iacon. The fight is still going on above us, but without the driller to bore us back up to the battlefield, we’re trapped in a tunnel between our last conquest and Alpha Trion’s squad of suicidal Autobots.

Two mega-miles in, I hit the brakes. This is ridiculous. Maybe one of my mechs knows a way up to the surface without us having to return all the way back to our starting point. Plus, Shockwave left Trannis in charge of Iacon, and I would really rather not have to explain to him why we’re coming back so early.
”Anybody know of any shortcuts?”
“I remember passin’ a mass transit tube the first time we rolled through,” replies Growl. “Might lead us where we wanna go, or it might take us out woop woop.”
“We’ll try it. Anything beats having to backtrack.”
“Ay chief... good on ya for Barricade, but what exactly didja pull his plug for?”

My troops deserve an explanation. I’ll give them the truth.

“Everybody gather ‘round. Listen up. A lot of you may be wondering why I blasted Barricade. I’ll tell you. Shockwave requested seven subjects for experimentation, but we were down to six after Ground Hog stripped one of the female Autobots down to the chassis... so you know what that slimy grease stain Barricade suggested we do?”
The mechs mumble a few guesses... all of ‘em wrong.
“He told me to slap a rub symbol on one of you and say that we uncovered an Autobot spy.”
They’re stunned—and rightly so. I’ve witnessed some greasy stuff in my lifetime, but my jaw almost hit the floor when I heard Barricade suggest flipping a fellow ‘Con into an Autobot.
Growl shakes his head. “Low on morals, that one was... but you, you’re a stand up ‘Con. True purple as far as I’m concerned. Too bad we gotta blast ya.”
Growl steps back and aims his wrist-mounted machine gun. The others point their weapons too.
“What!? After all I’ve done for you scrap heaps, I get Starscreamed!? Seriously!?”
My traitorous lieutenant shares his twisted reasoning for this act of totally unwarranted treachery—
“Y’see, Barricade’s Spark might’a been blacker than the inside of a driveshaft, but whatever dirt he did he did for the cause... the Decepticon cause! You’re a good mech, Dropshot. A little too good to lead this lot, I’d say.”
“So you’re terminating me because I’m honorable?”
“Yep, Basically.”

The truth is that Growl just wanted to be leader all along. The troops will follow Growl because they respect strength. I made the mistake of letting them know that I valued them and they interpreted that as a sign of weakness. Alpha Trion saw this coming, so why didn’t I? Easy. I’ve been a Decepticon my whole function cycle, I’m blind to the backstabbing. I talk about Starscream like I’m any different... we’re all Starscream. We’re a faction of Starscreams.

Scrapped by my own second-in-command... Bombshock’s gonna have a smile on his face when I see him in—

<Critical damage>
<offline>

(to be continued)

PART 105

1 Breem ago

High above the Tagan Heights, a battered cassette player rests on the barrel of a thirty-five foot-long floating ray gun.
“Tell me Soundwave, have you ever seen the interior of an Autobot defense base?”
“Affirmative: 12,501.3 vorns ago. Location: Charr.”
“Do you still possess the schematics within your memory banks?”
“Affirmative.”
“Reconfigure them from base-mode to primary configuration.”
Images of a Guardian Robot in both modes alternate rapidly on Soundwave’s cassette door until...
“Translation complete. Margin for error: 4.2 percent.”
“You have exceeded expectations, Soundwave. Now... forward that data to the Battlechargers.”



On the streets below, surrounded in a sea of blue and yellow ground troops, a duo with differing paint jobs looks at each other and laughs.
“Hey Runabout, I think Soundwave just took a dump in our databanks.”
“Why Runamuck, what a positively puerile way of describing an influx of highly informative intel. Uhh huh huh huh... I like it!”
“Heh heh. He’s calling it Operation: Devastation... or Detonation or something. Why do you think he sent it?”
“Uhh, I think he wants us to blow up Omega Supreme from the inside.”
“Cool,” replied Runamuck, as their brethren diverted around them.
The cream colored Decepticon started to skate off into the crowd, but was immediately yanked back by the bonnet.
“Ack! Lemme go, Runabout! Everyone’s leaving without us!”
“Settle down, Runamuck! Charging a Guardian Robot is a sure way to get yourself scrapped! I have a plan.”
“What is it? Heh heh. What’s the plan?”
“We’ll sneak in through the backdoor.“
“Yeah! We’ll enter in through the rear!”
The snickering Battlecharger transformed, followed an eighth of an astro-second later by Runabout. “Heh heh. Good plan!”
“Uhh huh huh, just call us the tailpipe ticklers.”
“Yeah! Heh heh. We’re gonna tickle Omega Supreme’s tailpipe!”



The rubble strewn between factory A-3-85 and the nearest intact structure resembled a city block on the Planet of Junk. Ultra Magnus watched Red Alert—waist-deep in wreckage—run a full circle around him as if he were suffering some sort of nervous breakdown.
“Decepticons closing in from all sides! Oh no! We’re trapped!”
“I can see that, Red Alert!” Ultra Magnus spat. “Fire, Autobots! And don’t spare the ammo!”
Projectiles accompanied by pink lasers shot out from behind piles of scrap, turning Decepticons into debris while Omega Supreme’s fiery plasma cannon laid waste to entire battalions. The waves that followed surged on unabated, leaping over molten mounds of their fallen comrade’s remains like runners in the Galactic Olympics. The Battlechargers that cleared those grisly hurdles continued to be cut down until enough of their number had flooded in amongst the entrenched Autobots. First few skirmishes aside, it was here that the battle began in earnest.
At Omega Supreme’s feet swirled a multi-colored cauldron of combatants too close in proximity to each other to dispatch an enemy without also destroying an ally. Instead, he aimed his cannon-arm at the seemingly endless hordes of hostiles rolling in from the direction of Iacon. The conquerors of Cybertron’s capital howled for Autobot heads. Omega Supreme vowed that he would deal the Decepticons more damage than they’ve suffered in a deca-cycle before they removed his. Suddenly, as the tip of his weapon glowed, a message flashed across his face shield—
<CORE TEMPERATURES REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS.
SYSTEMS SHUTDOWN INITIATED.>



“Attention Shockwave. Encrypted message received from Runabout and Runamuck.”
“Play it, Soundwave.”
“—Uhh huh huh huh.”
“Heh heh. Heh heh, heh.—“
“Translating...”
“—We have uhh, entered Omega Supreme’s posterior.”
“Yeah! Operation D-something commencing.—“

(to be continued)

PART 106

Now.

Two blue Battlechargers stood behind Ultra Magnus and forced the City Commander down to his knees. Their gold plated sergeant, Runafoul, stepped forward and punched him in the face. Ultra Magnus gazed upward, past the sergeant’s beady red optics to the motionless form of Omega Supreme towering in the distance. The Autobots had been doing surprisingly well until—for reasons unknown—the Guardian had stopped assisting them. Now the surrounding landscape was littered with the bodies of many of the Autobots that had labored so long to rebuild him.
“Hawwrr! Some thanks, huh?” laughed Runafoul. “It’s over, Magnus. Tell the—hawwrr—heroes to come out of hiding, or I’ll splatter your cerebral circuits all over your shoulder pylons!”
Ultra Magnus lowered his head. “Everyone’s dead,” he sighed. “There’s no one else out there. I’m... the only survivor.”
“Liar!” shouted Runafoul. He grabbed Ultra Magnus by the chin and thrust a finger skyward. “You see that little box perched up there on Shockwave’s barrel? That’s Soundwave...! He says that there’s more of you Autobots alive down here under all this junk! Give the order, Magnus!” he demanded. “Tell your troops to surrender!”



Runabout ran his fingers over the intricate designs covering Omega Supreme’s walls. Each section chronicled a major event that occurred during the era of enslavement in picture form. There was one piece in particular that Runabout was fixated upon—a depiction of a Prime in alt-mode bursting forth from the chest of a Dark Guardian. The pace of his Energon pump quickened. In a few astro-minutes it would be he and Runamuck bursting out of Omega Supreme’s body as the Guardian detonated in a series of timed explosions behind them.
The clip to Runamuck’s gun struck the wall just above Runabout’s head. The black and red Battlecharger turned around and saw that his partner was highly agitated.
“Problems, Runamuck?” he asked.
“Yeah! I just emptied my gun into one of Omega’s power generators and nothing happened!” replied Runamuck, as he began bashing the weapon over his knee. “Ahhh! This blaster sucks!” he screamed.
“Settle down, Runamuck! There’s nothing wrong with your blaster,” Runabout informed him. “It’s a friction rifle, numb nut. It only works if your target keeps moving—then they go boom from the built up heat. The problem lies with Omega Supreme… he’s stationary. I think he’s uh huh huh dying or something.”
“No fair! He can’t die before we blow him up! Heh heh.”
“Uhhh, why don’t we try defibrillating him?”
“Yeah! Let’s defrib-boralate him! Whatever that means.”
“Simple. Omega Supreme still has energy saved in his power cells. We’ll redirect some of that energy through here,” Runabout explained, tapping a power conduit with his particle beam rifle. “The cable leading to his Spark line.”
Runamuck popped in a new clip and leveled his weapon. “Heh heh, yeah! Got it! Shoot that cable!”
“No, Runamuck! Wait! That’s not what I meant—!”



Runafoul’s index finger tightened on the trigger of his gun. He had the leader of the Autobot army at his mercy, but things weren’t going quite the way he expected...
“What are you waiting for, Decepticon? Shoot me!” dared Ultra Magnus. “Either shoot me now or take me to your superiors!”
Runafoul looked up to Shockwave and Soundwave for instruction, but his comm remained silent. He pressed his photon pistol to the front of Ultra Magnus’ forehead.
“Hurrr... have it your way, Magnus. If you won’t open your mouth then I’ll open your—hawwrr—head instead!”
SPOOM!
Omega Supreme’s hindquarters were aflame. His innards echoed with the screams of Battlechargers burning within him. Time seemed to stand still in the moments before the Guardian toppled over. But fall he did, and the entire sector reverberated with the impact.
Omega Supreme began to slowly change shape after the fall, his shifting parts stirring up a massive tidal wave of white dust as they scraped across city streets.
Ultra Magnus rose up as the wave washed over him, smashing his twin captors together with an inward swing of his mighty arms. The two Battlechargers met with such an impact that the translucent parts lining the bottom and sides of their chests burst, knocking both of them offline before their backs hit the ground. Sergeant Runafoul exploded in the white nothingness that surrounded them—blown apart by a tank traveling on a track that spanned the circumference of a still forming rocket base.
“EXPLOSION IMMINENT,” Omega Supreme’s voice boomed from the tank. “IMMEDIATE EVACUATION ADVISED.”
Ultra Magnus transformed, barreling through an entire battalion of Battlechargers while wounded Autobots sprang from the scrap heaps lining his path of destruction like Junkion warriors. Those who were able to fight, fought. Those who were in no condition to join the battle made a beeline straight for Omega Supreme’s finished rocket module.
Shockwave ordered his best shooters to target the badly damaged ‘Bots who were rolling, running, or limping up the ramp to the spacecraft. Magnus and several others stayed behind to cover their comrades escape. The Decepticon snipers took a grisly toll on the fleeing Autobot forces... at one point dropping eight 'Bots bottlenecked at the entrance of the rocket.
Ultra Magnus—constantly in motion—commanded the troops trying to keep up with him to concentrate their fire on those snipers. Meanwhile, Shockwave targeted the City Commander from above, leaving craters filled with the wrecks of his own warriors after every attempt to end him.
“Acceptable losses,” the scientist reasoned.
“Go, Omega! Leave now!” ordered Ultra Magnus. “We can’t hold them off any longer!”
“ORDER RECEIVED,” acknowledged Omega Supreme.
The part of the Guardian that was the rocket lifted off with a hapless Beachcomber still clinging to his ramp. Powerglide, barrel rolling to avoid a seemingly endless barrage of missiles, swiftly caught up to the rocket and lifted his friend inside. When Beachcomber looked down, the whole sector was burning beneath them.



“A motley crew,” thought Grapple, as he looked at the rows of wounded propped up against Omega Supreme’s walls. First Aid and Hoist crisscrossed between the two rows, welding, splicing and stopping leaks.
Tracks met the architect’s gaze and put one finger in the air. “One,” he said. “One guess as to where we’re going.”
“I’m no good at guessing,” Grapple replied. “Omega Supreme!” he yelled up at the ceiling. “If you would be so kind as to tell us where we are headed?”
“DESTINATION: EARTH.”
Red Alert held the sides of his head. “Great... out of the fire and into the inferno!”
“Yep, and that’s right where I wanna be,” grinned Inferno. “Where there’s smoke, there’s me.”

(to be continued)

PART 107

SUNSTREAKER

Sideswipe came to visit me yesterday. It was weird seeing my brother on the other side of a set of glowing bars. Before the war it would always be him who wound up in a cell after a cycle of reckless behavior… and it would be me rolling down to the detention center to bail him out.

“What did I miss, Sideswipe?”
“We lost Windcharger, Hound, Hauler... Trailbreaker.”
“Hh.”
“They gave Hound a funeral. That’s what he told Prime he wanted in case he didn’t make it back.”
“So they put him in the ground? To rust...?”
“Yeah, I know... stupid Earth custom. When I die, send my body into the sun, Bro. Prime gave him this great eulogy—“
“How many Decepticons got turned to junk?” interrupted Sunstreaker.
“Those Constructi-geeks we fought awhile back and like ten Seekers. I scrapped Blitzwing myself.”
“Yeah...? Good job, ‘Swipe.”
“Thanks, Bro.”

I hate him.

If I’d been there, I would’ve been the one to send Blitzwing back to the Allspark. Me and Sideswipe were always a team. But as my star fades down here in the dark, his shines brighter. Pretty soon ‘Bots are gonna start to forget about me. I have to get out of here.

“What’s High Command planning to do with me?”
“Prowl thinks you should be put into stasis until after the war when there’s a system in place to deal with you.”
“And what...? Prime agreed?”
“No. He asked me what I thought about it.”
“What did you tell him?”

Sideswipe’s gaze falls to the floor. When he looks up again I can see pain all over his faceplate.

“I said I don’t know, Sunstreaker! You killed two Autobots...! And then you tried to kill Ratchet too!”

Yeah. I had my reasons.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Bro...?”

“I’m... sorry?”

Sorry. Not sorry.

Sideswipe throws up his hands. It’s like he can read my thoughts.

“Sunstreaker, a bunch of us are headed out with Prime to deal with some Insecticons... see ya when I see ya.”



Morning.

Sideshow drifts by my cell on a medical slab—charred, chewed up, and barely functioning. Prime, Jazz, Cliffjumper, Bluestreak and Brawn are in bad shape too. They lost. That much is evident without anyone modulating a word.

They need me out there...

…and my brother needs me most of all.



“Allow me to introduce myself—I am Doctor Arkeville, genius of science.”

Prowl hauled in another prisoner last night and dumped him in the cell across from me—a meatbag with an ego even bigger than the mudball he was spawned on. Great. I’m stuck on a cell block with a cassetti-clown that got left behind, a loser that can create additional losers to keep him company, and now this guy… Doctor Squishy.

“I have a proposition for one of you metal monstrosities.”

The ‘Cons ignore him. I’m bored... I’ll play.

“Go ahead fleshling, I’m listening.”
“Ah, the Autobot... you were not the one I expected to take an interest in my offer, but you’ll do quite nicely.”
“And what exactly is it do you have to offer?”
“Freedom. I’ll help you obtain it, and in return you will transport me to my secret laboratory.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You...? You know how to escape from one of our jails?”
“I know much about your physiology, your fuel sources, and... your technology.”
“Keep talking.”
“These beams that imprison us... they are made of Energon, are they not?”
“Weaponized Energon, Squishy. All of the heat and high voltage, none of the nourishment.”
“I have studied the process in which your artificial race collects Energon... specifically the way it is focused into cubes—“
“You’re out of your mind, flesh creature!” interrupts Enemy. “You can’t break out of here by turning energy bars into Energon Cubes!”
“Oh, I don’t intend to gather the energy—you miserable machine—I intend to disperse it! In five seconds my skullcap will emit a specialized EMP just powerful enough to short only non-living circuitry. Ready yourself... freedom is at hand!”

I glitch as the pulse wave travels through me. The cell projectors spit sparks as their beams blur to nothing. Doc Squishy did his work a little too well… the Decepti-creeps are free too. They bolt for the nearest exit. Footsteps clank to meet them. Ironhide and... Tigertrack!? We left that Z-lister back on Cybertron! The situation outside must be worse than I thought for Prime to have to scroll this far down the Rando-bot rolls.

Four unarmed ‘Cons against two armed security ‘Bots... yeah, no need to stick around to see how that turns out. I blow past Ironhide in alt-mode with my pet mad scientist in the passenger seat just as Tigertrack takes out the last Reflector reject. The Ark’s in my rear-view now. There’s no one fast enough—or stupid enough—to pursue me. I’m free... and I’m gonna send so many Decepticons to the scrap heap that High Command’s gonna welcome me back with open arms!

(to be continued)

PART 108

TIGERTRACK

Four prisoners down, one in the wind. Ironhide squats down to slap a pair of Energon cuffs on Soundwave’s minion. I toss him three more and transform.

“I’m going after Sunstreaker!”
“Heyyy, waitaminute kid! Wait fer me!”

I’m already in the exit corridor, tires spinning. I don’t have time to wait. Sunstreaker’s moving at top speed. I can’t overtake him, but I can catch him. He left emissions in the air that can be followed... and when those dissipate, I’ll search for the sand that falls out of his tire treads. He won’t escape. When he finally puts it in park, I’ll report his location so a team can come drag him back where he belongs.

To my left—something that wasn’t there on my last patrol. I have to check it out.

It’s a hole.

My parts shift. My mind races... is it a tunnel? That would mean we have an intruder. Maybe that’s how the prisoners got out?

“Oh no. No no no...”

Hound’s grave. It’s been dug up. It’s empty. There’s a discarded weapon next to it... an axe. I pick it up to examine it. Hmm... four blades, reddish in color—each sharpened to a razor’s edge. The handle is stained orange with rust.

Ironhide is shocked when he sees the pit of nothing that I’m standing over.

“Grave robbers! Who did it? Who stole Hound’s body?“

I hand him the axe. He recognizes it immediately.

“This weapon belongs to a Junkion...! Now what in the universe are those scavengers doin’ all the way out here?”

(To be continued)

PART 109

MIRAGE

The banquette style seating in Skyfire’s cargo hold leaves a lot to be desired. Drab interior... dim holomap display... the list goes on. The Commander class Decepticon line never was—nor will it ever be—synonymous with luxury... and I’ll never get used to the lack of it. Who and what I am I hide from the enemy—but I can’t hide from my own psychoanalysis. I’ve lost count of the things that this war has taken from me. Maybe that’s the reason I secretly relish any opportunity to experience again something that I’ve lost... no matter where it may be.

“The Socialist Democratic Federated Republic of Carbomya is directly below us. Decreasing altitude.”
“Don’t bother, Skyfire. I’ll get out here.”
Skyfire hesitates before lowering the ramp.
“Are you certain? We’re thirty-five miles up.”
“Strato-diving was my second favorite pastime back on Cybertron. Next to hunting!”
He says something else as I leap out. I can’t hear him with the wind rushing past my audio receivers. I’ll send a pulse when I need to be picked up. It’s radio silence from now until my mission’s complete.

I open my parachute with a mile left to go and land cloaked outside a crowded marketplace. The only beings alerted to my presence are a pair of barking Earth creatures.
Wheeljack’s isotope detector pings quietly in the palm of my hand. It’s picked up traces of Electrum—one of three elements integral to a Space Bridge’s operation. Time to transform and kick up dust in disguise.



The trail leads to a warehouse in Carbomya’s capital city of Tobruk. End of the road... I revert back to robot-mode in order to do some snooping on foot. A fine laser beam fired from my invisible fingertip takes care of the locks, but not the structure’s security system. I have to make this quick. Swindle never ever travels offworld without hired help. They’re here. It’s just a question of where, who, and how many.

I lift up the gate and there it is—the Space Bridge... repaired, recharged, and one million years older than it was a week ago. I have visual confirmation. My job is done. A strike team will move in to capture the asset at a time of Prime’s choosing.

But there’s just one more thing... a Cybertronian sized crate sitting against the rear wall. Arms cache? Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? Let me see what’s inside Swindle’s little toy box that I might want to relieve him of.

Sonic stun rifle... semi-automatic glue gun... ionic blaster... and whoa—what’s this? A force field projector! Trailbreaker’s force field projector! He was sent back in time during a Space Bridge accident along with Bumblebee—who somehow resurfaced as Goldbug, a ‘Bot who’s been Director of Espionage since before Optimus was Prime. No one knows what happened to the time-tossed Trailbreaker, so maybe this projector might provide some clue to his whereabouts. Finders keepers.

A tan Jeep with a rear-mounted turret blocks the way out. My shoulder rocket locks on target. Goodbye Swindle, too bad you won’t see this coming. The Decepti-creep’s tires fly off in four different directions when he explodes... orange flames cover every inch of his ruined frame. It’s a lovely sight... such a shame that it’s an illusion.

Hound repaints with red eyes materialize all around me. My vibroblade passes through one, a rocket-dart sails through another. The khaki colored Hound blasts me in the back. A severed spinal strut puts me down on all fours as eight enemies swirl psychedelically into one. In the background, a greasy oil drum morphs into a greedy munitions dealer. How apropos. Swindle walks over smiling... I’m visible again and expecting a kick to the side panel any moment now... Unff! There it is.

“D’ya believe this scrap, Detritus? An Autobot stealing out of my storage facility! And using a cloaker I sold him at a modest two hundred percent mark up ta do it! That’s dirty dealing, Mirage... lower than low. So you know what? I’m taking back my merchandise... alll of my merchandise. Fetch me a saw, Detritus.”
“Swindle, wait...”
I need to keep Swindle talking. That won’t be hard, Swindle loves to talk. I just need him to keep his mouth moving long enough for Skyfire to respond to the high speed pulse I’m about to send him.
“That bot you’re calling Detritus... is that Hound?”
Pulse sent. Now turn on your afterburners, Skyfire.
“Well, yes... and no. He’s a Junkion that transplanted his own Spark—along with whatever was in his rusty head—into Hound’s body because apparently your dear deceased friend had some perfectly good tech inside him.”
“So your mech salvaged an entire corpse instead of just taking the parts he needed?”
“It’s the invasion of the body snatchers!” the body thief chimes in in a radio announcers voice.
I can’t hold in my disgust. “That’s... revolting!”
“Yeah I know, gross... but hey, if he likes it I love it! Happy workers are productive workers. You know that, Mirage. You had a business back on Cybertron—that is, way back before you went broke and decided to break into my storehouse!”

Detritus hands Swindle the buzz saw just before a photon bomb blasts the Junkion into well… junk. I fire my grappling hook. It catches the edge of Skyfire’s wing and I’m tugged into the air behind his rear thrusters. Below me, Swindle speeds away from his burning buddy in alt-form as fast as his wheels can carry him.

“Hang on, Mirage!” shouts Skyfire. “I’ll swing back and swat Swindle like the pest he is!”
“No! Not with me sucking your vapor trails!”
“So... you can hunt down defenseless Turbofoxes but can’t stand to do a little HANG gliding?”
“Very funny, Skyfire. But I have a feeling Prowl would appreciate it if you returned to the Ark with me in one piece. He’s going to be very interested in what I have to report.”

(to be continued)

PART 110

SUNSTREAKER

Another yellow Lamborghini cruises into the Biggie Burger parking lot as we exit for the open road.
It’s nice... but it can’t hold a photon flare to my superior styling.

“Friend of yours?” inquires the organic perspiring in my passenger seat.
“That car back there looked like my brother.”
“Fascinating. And who might your father be? A Ferrari?”
“Can it, Arkeville. I’m not in the mood.”

After pushing it at top speed for hours, my patience is officially as low as my Energon level. Global Positioning System puts me in a region known as Death Valley... named for it’s “extreme” temperatures.

“Open the windows, alien! I’m sweltering in here!”
“Keep cool.”
“Keep... cool? Keep cool?! I am about to expire! Do you understand that? Aren’t you machines equipped with some sort of temperature control?”
“Look human, I didn’t exactly have time to refuel before I left the Ark. I gotta prioritize some systems over others in order to conserve Energon.”
“You have my word that I will provide you with fuel once we reach our destination! I can install a converter into your fuel intake that has the ability to change gasoline into Energon.”
“Deal. But don’t even think about double crossing me. I’ll squash you with the last of my reserves if I have to.”
“I will not betray you. Megatron abandoned me when your fellow automobile-robots foiled my operation at the institute.”
“Decepticons don’t forgive failure. They don’t do rescue missions either, which is why they left you to rot. Megatron only keeps guys around that are useful to him... and it sounds like he’s already written you off as USEless.”
“Mmhmm. Stop! We have arrived.”
Nothing but canyons. More rocks and sand baking under a yellow sun.
“I don’t see anything.”
“That’s because my laboratory is very well concealed.”

Squishy steps out, gives a verbal command, and a boulder blocking a cave shifts to one side. The moment I roll in I realize that his lab is actually an auto-robotic factory filled with tech from back home... and it’s massive! Awesome. That means he shouldn’t have any difficulty doing what I’m about to ask him to do.

“Listen Doc, I need you to reactivate my weapons systems. Our medic disabled ‘em right before I got thrown in the brig.”
“That’s not part of the deal.”
“I’m altering our arrangement. If you have any objections, you’re welcome to drape them over my hood.”
“Oh... ah, I get what you mean,” Squishy says, backing away. “Wait here while I gather the tools to fulfill your er, request.”

Squishy storms off into a storeroom in a huff. A Cybertronian-styled sliding door slams down behind him. Tough. I’m calling the shots now and there’s not much an inferior life form like him can do about it. In fact, I think I’ll make myself at home. Lots of raw materials in here... when I get some more Energon I’m gonna construct a chaise lounge. Or better yet—a sauna. Yeahhh, that’s it... one filled to the brim with hot lubricants.

“Excellennnt.”

Megatron! That was Megatron’s voice!

Fight or flee...?

Fight.

Megs commands the entire Decepticon army. He could send a squad of Seekers to strafe me out in the middle of the desert—easy.

There’s no escape.

The sound of my engine revving for action brings the meatbag back out to investigate.

“Let me see your hands—! One wrong move and you’re roadkill.”

He puts his hands up. They’re... empty. No Megatron.

“Autobot... what is the meaning of this?”
“Where is he hiding?”
“Where is who...?”
“Megatron! I know his voice. I’ve been hearing it for millennia. You were scheming with him in that room you just came out of.”
“Oh... that. That was merely an old message that you misheard. One that has just been deleted. Now... if you are quite finished running your paranoia program, I’d like to make myself... useful.”

No way to tell if this treacherous terrestrial is telling the truth. I’ve got no choice but to trust him, even though every sensor in my body is screaming otherwise...

(to be continued)

PART 111

TIGERTRACK

When we passed each other in alt-mode awhile back, I thought I had blown my cover and inadvertently alerted Sunstreaker to the fact that he was being followed. Luckily... that wasn’t the case.

I caught a glimpse of the cave’s interior as Sunstreaker drove inside it. The spot was filled with stuff you would normally find on a spacecraft capable of outfitting it’s crew with new alt-forms. According to the briefing I was given shortly after I stepped off Omega Supreme, a cargo ship with that capability was abandoned on an island on the eastern end of this land mass. Grapple and Hoist were dispatched to recover the vessel... then they discovered someone had gutted it before they got there.

Yeah, I guess the most important lesson we ever learned as a race has already begun to fade from our memory banks... which is to pick up our trash and to do it posthaste.

Eons ago, back at the beginning of the Energon crisis, a Decepticon raiding party attempted to rob the peaceful planet of Nebulos of it’s energy resources. A fast reaction team—led by Fortress Maximus—managed to gain an extraordinary advantage over the Decepticons by binary bonding with some Nebulan volunteers. The ‘Cons were defeated and left behind on the battlefield to rust.

Well, that wasn’t the end of it. Somehow those wrecks wound up in the clutches of a crime syndicate called the Hive. The Hive forced the Decepticons to undergo the same Headmaster process as Fort Max’s crew in a bid to use them as tools to overthrow their government. Once again we intervened. But this time the battles fought between our two factions resulted in Nebulos being bombed back to the Stone Age.

The same situation could easily happen here. Sunstreaker’s a technoist, so bonding with the human is probably out of the question in this particular case—but that doesn’t mean that given time the two of them together can’t come up with a way to cause Autobot casualties.

“Prime, this is Tigertrack. Please come in.”
“I’m here, Tigertrack. Teletraan-1 has your coordinates. Have you located Sunstreaker or Doctor Arkeville yet?”
“I want to say that I have optics on both escapees, but I’ve patrolled enough installations to know that I really don’t. Hidden bases like the one before me always have a backdoor. I’m going in.”

(to be continued)

PART 112

SUNSTREAKER

”Ow!”

The human’s surgical skills are on par with a Decepticon medic—which isn’t saying much. Half the wires in my dash are sitting in his lap, and the other half is in my driver’s seat. I’m starting to wonder if “Doctor” is just a title that Arkeville bestowed upon himself.

“You sure you can handle this?”
“Of course. Your design is similar to that of another I performed work on before my... incarceration.”
“I doubt it. When they manufactured me they broke the mold! So tell me... which Decepti-creep had the misfortune of having you mess around inside their internal mechanisms?”
“Your words wound me, Autobot. But soon my allies will arrive to do worse to you! Much worse!”
“WHAT did you say?”

“Unf!” Dammit! Double-crossed and mode-locked! I can’t change form!

“I have disconnected the wiring leading to that tiny ball of circuitry you call a brain. You can no longer send electrical impulses to your mechanical parts. I am in control now. You are mine to—“

The sound of his own voice distracts him mid-rant. It’s a recording we’re hearing of the verbal command used to enter this place being played back over somebody’s stereo system.

“—I Doctor Arkeville, genius of science, say open sesame!—“

A yellow Lambo roars in—Tigertrack! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize that lame when I passed by him before! He transforms and plucks the resident Decepticon sympathizer out my passenger side window.

“Let go of me this instant, you—you surreptitious supercar surrogate!” he screams.

Tigertrack dangles him by the lab coat and smirks.

“You let this little creep get the best of you, Sunstreaker? Hah! Your interior looks like the inside of a helio-hampster cage!”
“Stall the stand up routine, Tigertrack. I need you to fix me.“
“Not a chance.”
“The Decepticons are coming, you numb node!”
“So’s Prime with reinforcements. I’ll lock up tight and we’ll wait and see who shows up first.”

The night watchmech strides over to a control panel with Squishy still squirming in his hand.

“How do I get the stone to move back into place, human?”
“Figure it out for yourself, alien!”
Tigertrack produces a prod from his forefinger and jabs it in Squishy’s stomach.
“I won’t ask again.”
“I will sell you into slavery at an unsuspecting car dealership! I swear it!”
“… I warned you.”

The surge of electricity that shoots through Squishy’s body causes all four limbs to stiffen up before falling limp. A plume of smoke rises off his skullcap.

“Looks like you used too much juice, genius. He’s out cold.”
Tigertrack lays him gently down on the floor. “Yeah... I did, didn’t I?” he replies. “We don’t need him anyway. Look,” he says, pointing at a monitor. “Prime’s already here.”

On the screen, headlights light up the night. Five vehicles weaving wildly around a speeding tractor trailer.

“I hate to break this to ya pal, but those guys don’t drive like Autobots!”

Tigertrack makes a break for the boulder. It won’t budge.

Five miles till they arrive.

“Tigertrack listen, you’re gonna need my help to move that rock. We’ve gotta work together... it’s the only way we’ll get out of this.”
“But I don’t know a thing about repairs! I’m a sentry! It’s not my function!”
“You’ve gotta try, or we’re both dead metal!”
“Okay... alright. I’ll try.”

Four miles.

Tigertrack squats over me and reaches an arm in each window.

ZZZZZT!

“Ow! Watch it, dumbo digits! Omega Supreme’s got more dexterity than you!”

Three.

“Y’know, I could do without the verbal abuse, Sunstreaker! It’s not helping!”
“And I could do without dying, soft shell! Now get this done quickly or—AHK! You did that on purpose!”

Two.

“Finished! Now try to transform!”
Tsche-chu-chu-tsche-tsche “I’m back!”
“Music to my audio receptors! C’mon! You grab one side of the boulder, I’ll grab the other!”

One.

“Puuussh!”
“It’s moving!”
“Push harder, they’re almost here!”

Zero.

High beams shine around the circumference of the boulder as it rolls back into place.

We did it.

“That was close!”
“You know what they say, Tigertrack. Teamwork makes the dream work.”
“Who says that, and what’s a dream?”
“It’s something you’ll never experience if you refuse to get my weapons systems back online.”
“Is that a threat!? Really?”
“Really."
"I'll let that one slide, but you and me might have to settle up after this is all over."
"Looking forward to it, sentry-bot."

(Transformers Resolute will return after these messages)

Love it! Tigertrack really has a persona of his own here.

Tigerhawk7109 wrote:Love it! Tigertrack really has a persona of his own here.

Thanks! I based it on his MP tech specs.

PART 113

Outside the entrance to Dr. Arkeville’s lab, a six-wheeled yellow dragster and an off-white Lamborghini drive up alongside a black tractor trailer. Moments later, the three vehicles are joined by a maroon Porsche, followed by a Ford F-150 and a Ferrari with matching gray paint jobs. Then, all six vehicles transform to their robot modes simultaneously, brandishing weapons of war.
“That untrustworthy organic locked us out!” Motormaster bellowed.
“I could’ve stopped ‘im if I didn’t have the rest of you slowin’ me down!” complained Drag Strip.
“Shut up, Drag Strip!” sneered Motormaster. “I’m the leader! Your place is behind me, not in front!”
Dead End crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side. “It doesn’t make sense for the flesh creature to prevent us from entering his laboratory,” he reasoned. “I believe that this is the Autobot’s doing. The flesh creature has most likely been disposed of.”
Breakdown looked up and pointed to a camera lens imbedded in the rocks above the entrance.
“Well, whoever did it is watching us right now!” he exclaimed. “I’m sure of it!”
The sudden boom of a laser shotgun left the security camera dangling by a single cable in the center of scorched stone.
Wildrider blew the smoke away from the tip of his shotgun. “Not anymore!” he laughed maniacally.
The insane Stunticon’s mood changed seconds later—to no one’s surprise—when he realized that there was nothing else for him to destroy. “We need to get in there and show that Auto-bum who’s boss!” he screamed. “Like now! Right now!”
“Yeah!” agreed Drag Strip. “I wanna be the first one outta this outfit to kill an Autobot on an alien planet!”
Offroad lit up his Energo axe. “I’ll get us in,” he said. “You mechs just ease off your throttles and have a little patience, okay? Y’all are startin’ ta make my audio receptors ring.”
“We Stunticons don’t come equipped with patience!” boomed Motormaster, transforming to truck mode. His troops scattered as he crashed head-on into the boulder, sending big chunks of it flying everywhere. The stone barrier was now reduced to rubble... and Motormaster was now parked half in, half out of the entrance without a scratch on him.
“But what we do come with,” he continued, reverting back to robot-mode, “is automatic force-fields covering our new alt-forms!”
“Bought and paid for from that grease stain Swindle with my Planet Cup trophy,” grumbled Drag Strip.
“What!? I made you trade in that old Velocitronian relic to benefit the team!” erupted Motormaster. “Consider that a team tax!”
“So why am I the only one paying this team tax?” demanded Drag Strip.
“Because the rest of us have to put up with your big mouth!” Motormaster shouted, drawing back his hand to slap him. “Now nix that negativity or—“
“Hey, Boss!” interrupted Offroad. “Why’s Megatron sendin’ us after one measly Autobot? Seems like a waste of good Energon to me.”
Motormaster winced at the question. “Y’see, Offroad... that’s exactly why your teammates don’t trust you. It’s not because you’re new, it’s because you ask too many questions.”
“I only ask ‘em because I like to be informed, Boss.”
“I point, you shoot! What else is there to know?”
“I got no problem with that part,” replied Offroad. “I was just wonderin’ if there was somethin’ special about this Sunstreaker character that the rest of us ought to know about.”
“Nawww, Megatron just wants all Autobots on Earth wiped out before he starts up Space Bridge operations again,” explained Motormaster. “It’s our job to pick off the strays that manage not ta get eaten by the Insecticons. That enough info for you?”
“Yep,” smirked Offroad. “But there’s one thing I wanna let you mechs know before we all go speedin’ off half-cocked into that lab. I’m not just another spare Combiner-compatible ‘Con, I’m—“
“An Autobot spy!” Breakdown blurted out. “You’re a plant, right? Amirite?”
“It’s soo obvious.” Dead End said, pointing his gun at Offroad’s head.
Confused, Drag Strip and Wildrider looked to Motormaster for leadership. When Motormaster just shrugged, the two Stunticons joined Dead End in holding their teammate at gun point.
“You guys need to get a grip,” Offroad facepalmed. “I was gonna say that I’m built for combat in extreme conditions. This here lab is an extremely dangerous environment.” he said, jerking his thumb back towards it’s darkened entrance. “There’s a lotta things in there that might go boom if we go swervin’ into ‘em. Let me solo this, fellas. I’ll flush the Autobot out.”

(to be continued)

PART 114

The light from Offroad’s Energo axe cast the laboratory’s walls in crimson. The Stunticon had passed the unconscious form of Doctor Arkeville in the last chamber moments ago, and was now staring at the human’s handiwork in the current one. A damaged Seeker hung on the wall in front of him, reduced to a head and chest fed by an Energon drip.
“What’s the deal here, Hotlink?” he wondered aloud. “Are ya a patient, a prisoner, or a wall plaque?”
Suddenly the room flashed from red to white as Offroad deflected a stream of electrons with his weapon, then he flung the still electrified axe at the assailant steeped in the shadows, revealing his identity.
“Sunstreaker!” he shouted. “Hold your fi—“
Tigertrack was on his back before he could finish his sentence, plunging a vibroblade deep into his internals. Somehow Offroad managed to change shape while being stabbed, automatically shifting his attacker onto the roof of his alt-form. He then threw himself into reverse, backing into a wall and sending Tigertrack tumbling to the floor. With fuel pouring from his chest, the Stunticon returned to robot-mode with fingers poised to pull the pin on a flak grenade.
“You guys get yer tails outta here!” he hollered. “There’s a trap door in the rear leadin’ to a tunnel that’ll take you out onto the open road!”
The two Autobots stared at each other, searching their memory banks for any recollection of this mech that neither had ever laid optics on, but both seemed to recognize somehow.
“Don’t just stand there, ya idgits!” Offroad persisted. "Roll out while ya still can!”
Sunstreaker jabbed Tigertrack with his elbow and motioned for them to depart. Without a word, the duo transformed and sped off, identifiable in the darkness only by their rapidly diminishing tail lights.



Ten minutes had passed before Offroad’s teammates ventured into the lab to check up on him. It was Breakdown who found him slumped against a wall after following a trail of tire marks and spilled Energon. The scout quickly summoned the others to the scene.
“Sorry fellas, they got away.” Offroad announced upon their arrival. “There were two Auto-bums hiding in here instead of one. They got the drop on me.”
“He’s lying.”
The voice that made all six Stunticons turn to see who it belonged to.
Offroad was stunned. “Hotlink! You’re online...?”
“Yeah, I saw everything.” the Seeker revealed from his mount. “This mech ain’t who you think he is, buds. He told the two Autobots that trashed him how to escape.”
“Means he’s either a coward or a traitor,” Motormaster said, twirling his Cyclone rifle. “Or maybe neither if he was never on our side. Thanks for letting us know. Here’s your reward,” he smirked, thrusting the weapon in the Seeker’s face.
“M-Motormaster!” panicked Hotlink. “Whu-what are you doing?”
At the pull of a trigger, Hotlink’s facial features began to swirl as if placed in a smelter. Motormaster’s troops continued to look on in horror as the Seeker’s head was twisted into a tight ball of scrap by the force of a focused miniaturized cyclone. Hotlink’s head snapped off his neck and rolled like a baseball into Motormaster’s outstreched palm.
“W-we get it, Boss.” Drag Strip stammered. “N-no witnesses. Nuh-nobody to tell Megatron that we let a mole operate right under our olfactory sensors.”
“We’ll just keep this little incident in-house,” decreed Motormaster. “As for you, Offroad.” he said, drawing his sword, “you get to die... slowly.”
With that, the Stunticon leader stabbed Offroad through the Spark—pushing down with both hands until only the hilt was visible.
“I reckon... I reckon I had a pretty good run,” gasped Offroad. “Enough for two lifetimes... some would say.”
“Oh don’t return to the Allspark thinking your pals got away,” scoffed Motormaster.
“They’ve got a ten minute head start,” coughed Offroad. “As fast as you maniacs are, y’all can never catch ‘em. They could be anywhere by now.”
“We’ll get ‘em. Arkeville reported that Sunstreaker was low on Energon when they arrived here so he outfitted him with a fuel converter. Each one of those converters carries a tracking device that enable me to keep tabs on my troops. Your friends are about to find out who really rules the roads.”

(Transformers Resolute will return after these messages)

Yes! As much as I feel sorry for him, I love the idea of Offroad being a mole. He’s too pure. Awesome chapter!

Tigerhawk7109 wrote:Yes! As much as I feel sorry for him, I love the idea of Offroad being a mole. He’s too pure. Awesome chapter!

His story will be revealed next chapter. Mostly.

PART 115

OFFROAD

’Bots say that when your Spark’s fadin’ your whole function cycle flashes before your optic sensors. I’m dyin’, but Motormaster’s Ionizer sword won’t let go of my Spark. It won’t let me pass on. Not yet anyways... not before the electrical feedback it’s creating fries every circuit in my body extra crispy. So I’m sorta stuck in between... that leaves me plenty of time ta reflect on how I got to this point. Lucky me.

Well, it all began about a million years ago...

“You’re not a Decepticon,” were the first words to register in my audio receptors. I mistook the ‘Bot who spoke ‘em to me for Hoist, but then I quickly realized that it wasn’t. It was a medic by the name of Lift-Ticket. Two ‘Bots are standin’ with ‘im starin’ down at me. One reminds me of Ultra Magnus with his colors sorta reversed and the other looks like a police version of Sunstreaker.

“You are inside my repair bay at Trypticon penitentiary. This is warden Delta Magnus, and his lieutenant, Cordon. How are your optics?”
“Uh... fine.”
“Splendid. Look over there.”
Lift-Ticket points to a lifeless ‘Bot sittin’ in the corner. Black paint job, force field projector, gun barrel for a hand—
“Wha... Trailbreaker? This doesn’t make sense—I’m Trailbreaker!”
“No longer,” Cordon informs me. “Workers were dispatched to one of our interstellar receiving stations to unload what we believed to be an unscheduled shipment of supplies from Iacon. To our surprise, it turned out to be the wreckage of an entire Space Bridge terminal... and you.”
“Your damages were extensive—as one would expect of a Transformer that had been involved in a Space Bridge accident.” said Lift-Ticket. “Your Spark was shrinking when they brought you in to me. I did the only thing I could to save you... I transplanted your brain and Spark into another body.”
“Who’s body is this? Who was he? I mean me?”
“The notorious Speedway Killer of Caminus,” answers Delta Magnus. “A Combiner-compatible Decepticon named Offroad who believed that his charisma would stay his sentence. He was mistaken. I expedited his Spark extraction to give you a chance to continue functioning.”
“Umm... much appreciated, Magnus. Hey, what happened to the little guy I arrived with? Did he make it?”
“The Minibot?”

Yup. That confirmed it for me. We don’t use that term to describe ‘Bots like Bumblebee in my era. Mechs consider it to be offensive. I was definitely in the past. What’s worse, I was on Chaar. We lost the battle here... and I mean bad. So bad that ‘Bots don’t even mention this planet’s name anymore.

“We don’t call ‘em that where I come from Magnus, but yeah, the small one... Bumblebee.”
“Your companion had somehow become integrated with the Space Bridge’s console during transit,” explains Lift-Ticket. ”I did not possess the skills to extricate him, so I sent the poor Spark back over the Bridge to Iacon. From there I gather he will be transported onward to Nova Cronum. Perhaps Alpha Trion, or one of the other scientists there can accomplish what I could not.”

I stand up on stolen legs and take in my surroundings... thinkin’ maybe there’s a way to change things... change the future.

“Good. You can walk.” says Cordon “I want you to come to my office. I have some questions that I need to ask you.”
“I was hopin’ I could grab a drink first, Cordon. I’ve been through a lot.”
“My apologies. Go right ahead,” he smiles. ”The questions are merely formalities intended to improve the safety of Space Bridge travel in the future.”
“Be careful not to ingest too much, traveler.” Magnus warns, as I head out the door. “The spirits concocted by our fuel preparation specialist are rather potent.”



A cube of Red Engex and a big ol’ piece of oil cake. I can’t remember the last time I had two fuels that tasted this good together. Chef Spin-Out sits across the table from me, marveling at my appreciation for his culinary masterpieces.

“Goodness, traveler! You’re eating like this is your last meal!”
“It just might be, Spin-Out. I didn’t wanna say anything ta Delta Magnus and Cordon back there but—“
“The Engex is starting to loosen your vocal components,” he laughs. “I know. Go on.”
“I’m from the future. A future where every Autobot stationed on this planet was destroyed. All except one.”

Spin-Out looks skeptical. Can’t blame ‘im, I would be too. Maybe I should’a kept my mouth shut. He probably thinks I’m defective.

“There was a survivor...? What was his name?”
“Aw, hexagonal nuts... I got a few lapses in my memory banks. I can’t remember.”
Spin-Out slides away my half emptied cube of Engex.
“Perhaps you’ve had a bit too much, my friend. Either you have over-energized, or if you truly are from the future—stranger things have happened on the Space Bridges—I fear that you are misremembering what transpired here. Or rather, what will transpire here.”
“Maybe I do got my wires crossed. Gettin’ thrown backwards through time might do that to a ‘Bot. Care ta fill me in on current events?”
“Certainly. Trypticon prison houses criminals from all of Cybertron’s colonies—Gravedigger of Gigantion, Drag-Strip of Velocitron, Razorclaw of Biospera...”
“I get it. The worst of the worst. All top prospects for a tyrant lookin’ to tip the scales back in his favor.”
“Precisely. After suffering severe losses in Kalis, Megatron needs an infusion of experienced killers to help replenish his ranks. Hundreds of Decepticons led by one of Megatron’s top commanders, Magnificus, descended upon this penitentiary seeking to set free the scum secured behind these walls.” Spin-Out said, with a wide sweep of his arms. “They almost succeeded. We were woefully unprepared for their attack. They even felled the mighty guardian, Beta Supreme. For a full stellar cycle we repelled Magnificus’ forces until Sentinel Prime did something that he had not done since the war began... he activated a Space Bridge.”
“Huh. Never heard about that part.”
“Reinforcements arrived in the form of three hundred battle-hardened soldiers. It was a rout. The Decepticons that survived retreated back to the burned out hull of Beta Supreme. We control the Space Bridge. The only way Megatron can provide Magnificus with additional troops is by spaceship, and thus far Megatron has shown that he is unwilling to match Sentinel Prime’s commitment to this campaign. From there, it was simply a matter of waiting for Decepticons to do what Decepticons do and turn on each other.”
“I don’t understand. You’re sayin’ we won the battle here?”
“I’m saying that we will win. Our victory is assured. Recently a scout reported that Magnificus has been betrayed by his second-in-command. Their new commander, Onslaught, wishes to parley with Delta Magnus.”
“That’s a relief! Reckon I managed to change the past somehow just by poppin’ up! So... the scout that relayed the message... what was his name?”

I take a swig of Engex and slam down the empty cube. Spin-Out beams with pride when he speaks the ‘Bot’s name.

“A promising young recruit by the name of Camshaft.”

I almost choke.

Suddenly, my mind snaps back to the present. My Spark pulsates on the hilt of Motormaster’s sword. Looks like it’s time ta go. I’m not sad. I’m about to be reunited with some old friends that I haven’t seen in awhile.

“Like me?”

In a flash, Camshaft’s electromagnetic essence appears before me clear as day.

I’m seein’ ghosts.

(to be continued)