The Energon Pub

Welcome. Fall is upon us and I wanted to get this story out that I've been tinkering with for most of the summer. This is my fanfiction of the Combiner Wars. I'll post more behind-the-scenes info in the discussion thread.

For now let me set the time and place for this story. It takes place, in the early days of the Great War. If the Great War were like a sporting event, the first quarter is done and the second quarter has just begun.

Hard Scramble

The gathering clouds threatened rain, but that didn’t dampen the atmosphere in Nox Alley. A lively techno pop beat pounded from a boom truck. It transformed into a bot with bass speakers in its shins and amps along his lower arms. Racers and their crowds of fans filled the alley waiting for the night’s events to begin.

Motormaster pushed his way through the crowds reaching the K-rail separating the racecourse and the spectators.

“Are y’all ready to race?” the boom truck-bot announced.

Three bots stepped up to the starting line. The first was a shiny apple red racer with glossy chromed rims. He picked at some imaginary dust and preened for the audience.

“Our first racer is 3 and 4, give it up for Knock Out.”

Knock Out had his admirers but not many of them.

The second bot to the line was a dark grey and red racer with a face to match. He didn’t seem all here.

“Racer #2 is 1 and 6, clap or don’t for Wildrider.”

Compared to Wildrider, Knock Out was the belle of the ball. No one clapped for him, not that he cared.

“And finally we have the 6 and 1 bot to beat. Third in the line up, but first in your spark chamber: Dragstrip!”

The crowd exploded with raucous applause. The yellow and maroon racer stepped to the line and ate up the adulation. Knock Out glared jealously at his competitor. Wildrider remained indifferent. Once the crowd settled down the announcer resumed.

“Scramble City rules: To the end of the lane, half turn at the roundabout and back. First one across or the last one still standing wins. Take your marks!”

Knock Out and Wildrider transformed and revved their engines. Dragstrip remained standing.

“Ready! Steady! Go!”

Knock Out peeled out. Wildrider fishtailed clipping Knock Out behind the front wheel and would have tagged Dragstrip if he hadn’t taking two bounding steps before transforming into a racecar.

Wildrider’s starting line antics cost him. He was behind Knock Out and quickly losing ground. Dragstrip took a commanding lead.

Nox Alley was a straight, level run with a couple surprises added to keep the race interesting. At the midway point, K-rails narrowed the alley to one lane. It is clearly meant for the racers to jockey for position and maybe cause a crash or two. Unfortunately, each racer slotted through with no drama.

The audience booed. The announcer caught the eye of a blue seeker. A subtle nod passed between them. The seeker transformed and flew into the clouds. Before the racers reached the roundabout, there was a crack of thunder and a drizzle of rain. Many of the spectators squealed feeling the acid burn exposed components, but the die-hard fans stuck to the railings. This race just got interesting.

At the roundabout, Dragstrip and Knock Out cut left, but Wildrider cut right. The rain made the road slick and the acid ate away at tire treads. Wildrider drifted into Dragstrip and Knock Out. Dragstrip transformed and jumped over Wildrider then tucked and rolled back into vehicle mode. Knock Out wasn’t so quick or clever. He veered to miss the collision, spun out and slammed sideways into a wall. Wildrider sped on laughing like a madman.

Coming out the roundabout, Dragstrip was still in the lead, but Wildrider was close behind. Deep in last place was Knock Out.

As the racers approached the chokepoint, the crowd was on their feet. Drafting behind Dragstrip, Wildrider had pulled up to his rear wheel. This could get messy.

Suddenly, blaster fire erupted on the track. It came from Knock Out.

“Wreck my finish! I’ll wreck yours!”

Dragstrip and Wildrider wove through the explosions. At the chokepoint, Wildrider tried to clip Dragstrip’s rear, but the yellow racer poured on the speed. Wildrider missed and bent his fender on the track barriers.

After the chokepoint, it was a foregone conclusion. Dragstrip handily crossed the finish line. A sullen Wildrider rolled in a minute later. And a cuffed Knock Out was carried over last to the taunts and jeers of the fans.

There were cheers for Dragstrip. Anguished groans from those who bet against him. As everything moved on to the next race, Motormaster melted into the crowds.

A couple of races later, Motormaster found Dragstrip in the company of identical twin femmes laughing at everything he said.

“Impressive showing tonight,” Motormaster called out. His voice was deep and gravely like rocks scrapping the bottom of a mixing drum.

“Yeah, it was. Wasn’t it?”

Dragstrip beamed at the lady on his right arm. She smiled coyly while her twin cuddled up to the racer’s left flank.

“It would have been more impressive if you hadn’t cheated.”

Dragstrip’s smile froze on his lips.

“Cheat? There are no rules, friend. How can I cheat?”

“I’m sure your buddy, Wildrider, could explain it.”

Dragstrip turned to get a good look at this troublemaker. He looked up and up at the towering gray figure of Motormaster. He was boxy, literally. His arms resembled boxes. His legs looked like two boxes even his head rested in a box shape cowl.

“Excuse me ladies, while I pound a few dents into this lout.”

The femmes undraped themselves from Dragstrip and swished their way out. The yellow and maroon racer led Motormaster into a warehouse. It wasn’t empty, but no one was close enough to bother them.

“What’s your game?” Dragstrip asked.

“I am an admirer of stunt driving. The cool racer versus the erratic hothead is a good act. Poor Knock Out never stood a chance. In the future, you may want ease up on the showboat, Dragstrip. A standing start and the tuck-in roll? One would have been sufficient, both were over the top.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Wildrider growled.

He leveled a blaster at the back of Motormaster’s head. Motormaster raised his arms slowly show he was no threat.

“Easy now! I didn’t come to fight. I came with a job.”

“Yeah? We got a job already: scamming racers. Think we’ll pass,” Wildrider growled.

“That would be ‘unwise’,” Motormaster said.

A targeting sight shined on Wildrider’s chest. Another appeared on Dragstrip. A pair of bots with sniper rifles lurked in the shadowy rafters.

“I didn’t come for a fight, but those two have. Dead End is a dead shot, so one of you will go down quick. Blackjack on the other hand?”

Motormaster shrugged.

“His aims a bit glitchy. He’s liable to maim the one he is targeting.”

“You need a crew for what?” Dragstrip asked.

“A big score worth the winnings of ten races.”

Wildrider laughed. It had a manic edge to it.

“We’re cheats, not thieves.”

Motormaster retorted, “I have thieves. What I need is teamwork.”

Wildrider cocked his head.

“Teamwork for what?”

“Picking up some rusty artifacts. You interested?”

* * *
Rewind, in a dramatic flair, named the site: the Valley of the Colossi. Perceptor wanted to continue calling it Archeological Site Alpha Ceti Epsilon 9, but found like everything else on this dig he was only loosely in his control.

Perceptor emerged from his geodesic dome tent and was immediately ambushed by Chromedome shuffling half a dozen reports in his two arms. Without greeting, Chromedome began the run down.

“Rewind has finished his translation of Site 9 and is moving to Site 8. Here are his findings.”

Chromedome handed a data track to Perceptor.

“Beachcomber has finished his field sample and will have an age for the temples by the end of the day.”

“That’s good, lets…” Perceptor began.

Chromedome continued, “Cerebros has found no reference to the valley or the Colossi in any record. He believes this predates the Cataclysm.”

“Interesting, has he…”

“Brainstorm believes he can extract the remaining vessels without side effects.”

“Wonderful, I’ll join him…”

“Lightspeed and Highbrow request a consult on their project. They believe there were thirteen colossi, one for each Prime, but only nine temples have been uncovered. They want to bring in Nosecone for excavation.”

“Absolutely not…”

“And Hardhead wants to go over the current security arrangements and encryption protocols.”

“ENOUGH!” Perceptor shouted.

Chromedome fell silent, but another voice shouting filled the void.

“I ought to shove your nosecone up your afterburners!”

Perceptor regained his composure. He was frustrated, but nothing like that guy.

“What’s going on there?” he asked pointing in the direction of the shouting.

Chromedome answered. “Leader-1? He is ‘debriefing’ Silverbolt and Slingshot, the ones who discovered the valley.”

“Debriefing, right? Ok, lets take this a little slower, Chromedome. First, lets check on Brainstorm before he or whatever he invented blows up.”

* * *
Inside the makeshift hanger, Leader-1 paced back and forth in front of the two squadron leaders. Silverbolt sat upright. Slingshot slouched in his seat clearly bored with the Sky Commander’s by now familiar rants. Leader-1 was a stocky, gray fighter-type much like Slingshot. He was once shiny chrome but a lifetime of battle scars matted his color.

“I expected such behavior from Slingshot, but you, Silverbolt? I know you have more sense,” Leader-1 admonished.

“Sorry, sir. I did not mean to let you down,” Silverbolt replied.

Slingshot rolled his eyes and gave a disgusted sneer. Leader-1 turned on the stub fighter.

“You have something to add, Slingshot?”

“No, sir,” Slingshot said with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing about. The Decepticons outnumber us in the air 2 to 1 and you geniuses jeopardize five flyers we can’t afford to loose.”

“Six, but who’s counting,” Slingshot said under his breath.

Leader-1 glared at Slingshot but he turned to Silverbolt.

“Lets hear it again from the top. You were investigating an energon signal…”

Silverbolt nodded.

“We tracked an unusual energon signal out in the wilds. We found a series of buildings with the signal coming from one of them. We encountered Slingshot’s group outside the structure. I accepted his help investigating the ‘temple’. Inside, we discovered a glowing artifact. It pulsed some form of energy and we merged. I don’t remember anything after that until we disassembled several clicks from here.”

Slingshot eyed Silverbolt. He left out the part where Slingshot grabbed the relic ignoring Silverbolt’s own warning.

“And how did you brain-bots disassemble?”

Silverbolt answered, “We don’t know sir. Alpha Bravo mentioned a hermit, but we have no recollection of him.”

“The rookie? Add that to the list of questions will ask when we find him.”

“Find him? He’s not with the others?” Silverbolt asked.

Leader-1 shook his head.

“Nope, the rookie went AWOL about cycle ago.”

* * *
Alpha Bravo didn’t want to reflect on his current situation: stumbling through the jungle chasing a hermit who may not even exist. It was dangerous, reckless and he went AWOL to do it.

“I guess that settles it,” Alpha Bravo said to himself. “I AM an Aerialbot.”

Alpha Bravo stopped and turned around taking in his surroundings. The trees and the green mist made an impenetrable wall 20 steps in every direction. No, not ever direction. Alpha Bravo transformed into a helicopter and lifted up into the under story. The mist clung to the ground giving Alpha Bravo a clearer view.

With it he could see some movement among the tree branches. He was hard to make out from his green and white color scheme, a perfect blend here in the wilds. Alpha Bravo pursued. He couldn’t make out his full shape, but Alpha Bravo was sure it was the hermit he saw during Superion’s rampage. Alpha smugly thought about how none of the other Aerialbots could make it this far. Even Firefly with his VTOL abilities couldn’t navigate the close quarters of the wilds.

He was gaining when suddenly his quarry turned around and jumped at him. It wasn’t a hermit, but a pard, a great green and white cat. Alpha Bravo pulled up to avoid the beast and his blades caught on some coolant vines. Coolant and steam spewed everywhere. Alpha’s rotors jammed and he tumbled toward the ground.

Alpha Bravo transformed. That made things worse. A branch jumped out of the mist catching Bravo in the midsection. The vines in his rotor were now tangled on his back and he could reach them. Bang! Smack! Yank! The next thing he knew, Alpha Bravo was dangling a few feet off the ground like an unwound yo-yo.

The pard leapt softly to the ground. Its yellow eyes peered at the trussed-up Alpha Bravo. As he stalked closer to the Aerialbot, Alpha Bravo just hoped his end would be quick.

The cat transformed into a slight, elfin like robot. He produced a glowing green throwing star. With a deft flick, he severed the vine and Alpha Bravo collapsed in a heap.

A slightly reedy, high-pitched voice complained, “Only the spare came back!”

* * *
“No, no, NO! I am Breakdown, the original. You’re thinking of that imposter!”

The original Breakdown was a heavyweight; broad in chest and jaw with a grim gray and blue color scheme. He was clearly built for damage both taking a lot but dishing out more. He sat across a table from a black and yellow minicon named Blackjack.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Blackjack apologized. “Please accept another round.”

Breakdown accepted the mug of the house specialty, Toxic Swill. He downed it in one gulp. Blackjack took a judicous sip from his, while Breakdown gave a noisy belch.

“I tell you, if I ever find that hacker I’ll pound him into foil.”

Blackjack looked around quickly and then asked a follow up.

“Why is that?”

Breakdown’s voice got a little static-y from the drink.

“Because I get stuck with all his scrap!” he shouted louder than he intended.

“He hacks Autobot comm channels, I get chased by Ultra Magnus. He worms into the Kaon battle grid, I get hauled in by the Decepticon Secret Police. Did you know we have a secret police? I do!”

Blackjack checked a monitor built into his arm and shook his head.

“Secret police? You don’t say.”

Breakdown continued. “It’s the same story. That hacker pulls something, then I catch the blame because we share the same name.”

Blackjack took another sip. As he set down his cup, he checked his arm monitor again. This time he scrutinized it a little longer. Blackjack signaled the barkeep for another round.

“But surely you have an alibi? I mean if he hacks Altihex and you’re leagues away in Scramble City, that should clear you?”

Breakdown grasped another mug of Swill. As he contemplated his drink he answered, “Nah. The little pest shadows my every move. No matter what I do or where I go he pulls off his hacks near my location. I wouldn’t be an effective blast shield if I’m not nearby.”

Blackjack hummed and nodded but his attention was entirely on his wrist. Breakdown didn’t notice and after another long pull didn’t care.

“You know, if I was being shadowed by someone like that I’d be sure I could have someone vouch for my whereabouts,” Blackjack drawled.

“I usually hang out with my buddy, Knock Out. But he’s busy.”

Blackjack whispered something into his commlink, and then rejoined the conversation.

“Busy?”

“Yeah, got into a fight last night over a street race. Now, he’s lying low from some goons who bet big on him.”

Suddenly, there was a scuffle at the other end of the bar. A boxy grey and purple fellow grabbed a scrawny blue and white bot and dragged him out of there. In a rough and tumble bar like this, that was considered good manners.

“Well, this has been lovely,” Blackjack said quickly, “I hope your friend lives to see tomorrow. And your luck turns around.”

Breakdown muttered something and dropped his head into the rest of the Swill. Blackjack patted him on the back and hurried out the bar. A quick turn down an alley and he found Motormaster with his sword to the neck of the scrawny blue and white bot.

“What’s your problem? I’ve done nothing to you,” the blue and white bot protested.

Motormaster turned to Blackjack as he held him to the wall.

“Is he the one?”

Blackjack raised his right arm. The built-in monitor pinged rapidly. Blackjack nodded.

Motormaster sheathed his sword.

“So you are Breakdown.”

“Nah, you want the big guy; big, blue and grim.”

“I don’t think so. You are the one I want, hacker.”

“I don’t hack. Fact-find maybe, but not hack.”

“Whatever you call it, I have need of it.”

“Think I’ll pass,” Breakdown sneered.

“That’s ok. When should the Decepticon secret police arrive?” Motormaster asked Blackjack.

“They arrived just now.”

“How big is the reward for Kaon’s most notorious data thief?”

“Ok, ok,” Breakdown relented. “What do you guys want?”

“Just help us with a little job,” Motormaster answered with a wolfish grin.

* * *

Alpha Bravo lay in a heap as the elfin hermit transformed back into a green mountain lion and bounded into the jungle.

“Wait,” Alpha Bravo croaked.

He untangled himself and chased after the cat. The lion’s green body and white limbs blended easily with the jungle, but Alpha kept up. He had to.

“Wait,” Alpha Bravo called again, but the hermit didn’t respond.

Alpha pushed through a tangle of vines and tumbled into a clearing, in fact a landing for a stairway. He looked up in time to see a white tail vanish around the bend in the spiral staircase.

“Lets see if I can get ahead of him.”

Alpha Bravo transformed into a helicopter and rose through the under story. He spotted the lion as it sprinted up the staircase spiraling around a tree-like building. It was a tower built like the surrounding circuit trees, but where the main trunk branched off, there was a balcony/mezzanine. Alpha Bravo set down there.

Transforming back into a robot, he waited for the lion to appear. And wait…and wait.

Alpha Bravo gripped his blades. He knew the lion was close. So where was he?

The jungle grew quiet; the quiet that surrounds a predator stalking his prey. Alpha Bravo clenched and unclenched his blades. When the attack came, he reacted.

Alpha blocked the lion with the flat of his sword. Alpha Bravo rolled backward and flipped the lion over his head. The lion twisted in the air and landed on his feet. He charged again.

This time Alpha dodge-rolled to the side. The lion skidded across the balcony trying to change direction. He leapt again at Alpha Bravo, but a well-timed roundhouse kick knocked the lion a safe distance away.

“Enough of this!”

Alpha Bravo pulled out his blaster. The green lion recovered from the kick and saw the business end of the blaster. He growled in a low, dangerous tone, but did not advance.

“You could have taken me out any number of times in the jungle. I don’t think you lured me here just to suck at it now. So why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

The lion lifted his head up. He looked like he was about to roar, but instead transformed into his spindly limbed, elf-like form. He only came to Alpha Bravo’s chest and when he spoke it was with a high reedy voice.

“You came here full of questions. I had to make sure you were worth of the answers.”

“And am I?”

“You merit three answers from this point on. Use them wisely.”

Alpha Bravo stopped and considered his questions. While he pondered, the hermit wandered over to an alcove, sat down and began working on some device. He opening a compartment by his waist and extracted a shard. It looked a lot like the crystal shard found at the temple.

The hermit muttered to himself. “Lots to do. Lots to do.”

The hermit put the shard in the device. It didn’t fit so he pounded it into place.

“Whoa! Be careful. That thing is dangerous!”

Alpha Bravo feared he might merge with the hermit and maybe the tree. But nothing happened. The hermit closed the panel and the scanner came alive. He cackled with glee.

“Ha-ha! It works. Now I can find the others. We might make it this time.”

The hermit stood up and spun around and ran full tilt into Alpha Bravo.

“You’re still here? Haven’t you asked your questions?”

Alpha Bravo shook his yellow head.

“Well spit them out. I’ve got to go.”

“What did that thing do to my buddies?” Alpha blurted out pointing to the shard in the device.

“Your friends are now merged,” the hermit said matter-of-factly.

“They aren’t merged now. You separated them,” Alpha argued.

The elfin bot shook his green head.

“No, they are now merged with Superion.”

“Will they turn into the giant again?”

“With the right activation code, yes.”

“What about a deactivation code? Is that how you stopped Superion the first time?”

“Once activates the colossus, twice deactivates and that’s your three,” he answered.

“Scrap!”

Alpha mentally kicked himself. He didn’t mean to burn through his questions. He blocked the alcove. He could just drag the hermit back to base. The hermit stood there with the patience of a predator. The next move was Alpha Bravo’s. Alpha stepped aside allowing the hermit passage. The spindly hermit gave a half smile before transforming into a green lion. He grabbed the scanner in his mouth and bounded past him. Alpha turned to see where he was going, but in mid-leap between two branches, he vanished. He could see the branches bend and creak from his weight, but he couldn’t separate him the greenery.

Alpha Bravo knew it would be hard to explain, but he needed the courage to stand by his words. He agreed to the hermit’s terms. Going back on it seemed cowardly.

“I hope the others can use what I learned,” Alpha Bravo said to himself.

* * *
At the Valley of the Colossi, work stopped when the Aerialbots emerged from the hanger. The five Aerialbots walked in a close knot from the hangar to the airfield. Scientists and workers gave them a wide berth. Slingshot sneered at them.

“What? Afraid we’ll merge right in front of you,” Slingshot challenged.

The diggers remained silent.

“That’s a fine ‘thank you’ to the bots who found this place for you,” the white and yellow Aerialbot shouted.

“Slingshot, don’t make this more difficult,” Silverbolt admonished.

“More difficult? We found this place, catch hell for it and they treat us like rust-plagued lepers.”

“I wasn’t talking about them.”

Silverbolt cast a meaningful look back at the other Aerialbots: Skydive, Air Raid and Firefly. All three were slumped and down in the mouth. Slingshot spun around.

“Who ordered you to mop around like a bunch of Decepticons?”

That snapped the three to attention. Slingshot stomped up to each Aerialbot.

“We are Aerialbots. You know what that means. We soar higher than the rest. We fly fast than the rest. Why?”

“Because we are the best.” The three mumbled out.

“Why?” Slingshot demanded.

“BECAUSE WE ARE THE BEST!” The Aerialbots shouted.

“That’s right!”

Slingshot continued loud enough for everyone to hear including the scientists.

“Now, we’ve been recalled to Fortress Omega. We aren’t returning like a captured enemy squad. As far as I’m concerned, we completed our mission and we are returning for our next assignment. Do you see anything to contradict that?”

He turned to Sky Dive.

“Do you see any guards escorting us?”

“No, sir,” the black and red Aerialbot replied.

He turned to Firefly.

“Are there any stasis cuffs binding us?”

The red and white Aerialbot shook his head. “No, sir!”

Finally, he turned to Air Raid.

“Then are we prisoners going to the brig?”

“No, sir,” the white Aerialbot answered.

“That’s right! So stop dragging your feet! We’ve done nothing wrong and the next one I catch acting like we did will be scrubbing energon tanks for a week.”

The Aerialbots stood up tall and marched briskly to the airfield. Silverbolt bringing up the rear smiled approvingly at Slingshot. At the airfield, the Aerialbots transformed as a unit and took off leaving the scientist to their find.

* * *

The Aerialbots flew in formation overhead. On the valley floor, Hardhead looked up at them with a grimace.

“We really could have used them for this mission,” he muttered to himself.

Instead, he had to work with a snob, a crackpot and a paper pusher. Truly, an elite combat unit in the making.

“Ok, listen up!” Hardhead barked in his old school, drill instructor voice.

He pointed to Highbrow, a deep blue and grey Autobot who transformed into a twin-rotor, VTOL aircraft.

“You’ll take point. Keep no more than a click in front of the convoy and your scanners set on high.”

“I will endeavor to dispatch my duty with the utmost alacrity…” Highbrow started but Hardhead cut him off directing his next order to the tan and red Autobot with an eager to please look.

“Chromedome?”

“Yes, sir. Ready to roll. Where to you need me? Front guard? Rear guard? Vanguard?”

“Front guard and mute the chatter.”

Chromedrome wordlessly saluted. Hardhead moved on to the last member of his detail, Brainstorm. Brainstorm was a teal and grey Autobot who transformed into an aerial scout craft. Normally, he'd have him on point instead of Highbrow, but not today.

“Perceptor says you outfitted the transport with something to keep these relics stable? So we won’t wind up like the Aerialbots.”

“Yes. If my calculations are correct a magnetic flux bottle will provide a protective…”

“Great, man the transport, will ya? If anything goes wrong I want you on top of it.”

“In order to fix it?” Brainstorm added.

“Yeah, that too,” Hardhead said dismissively.

“I’ll pick up the rear. Our destination is the Crystal City. We make no stops unless I say so. Understood?”

The brain bots nodded or murmured. Hardhead shook his head again. If he had a couple of days, he could whip them into a cohesive unit. But this is what he had to work with. Brainstorm climbed into the transport truck. The others transformed and got in position. On Hardhead’s command, they rolled out.

The convoy snaked its way out of the Valley of the Colossi and into the high wilderness. They were close to the dig site and reinforcements so Hardhead didn’t worry much here.

High above the only road through the wilds, Blackjack spied the convoy from behind a tree.

He radioed in. “The package is on the move.”

The dense high wilderness opened up when they reached the lower wilds. Tall trees still dominated, but were more spread out. Hardhead speed up the convoy as they took the rolling ups and downs of the foothills.

From the tree line marking the end of the forest, Dead End radioed in.

“I confirm one air escort and two ground units. And only the tank looks trained. They are heading for the speedway.”

The woods thinned out into the silvery plains of the Alkali Flats. A ribbon of black and white cut across the plain: the Polyhex speedway. This would take them all the way to Crystal City.

On the other side of the freeway, a series of gunmetal cliffs rose above the flats. These were the Barium Bluffs. Motormaster, Dragstrip, Wildrider and Breakdown watch the convoy turn onto the speedway from here.

“Told ya, they would head to Crystal City,” Breakdown boasted, “Autobot communication hubs are so easy to hack.”

Motormaster nodded. “Yeah, now if you can just do the rest of your job as well, we will all be sitting pretty. That’s a hefty bounty they are hauling.”

He turned to Wildrider and Dragstrip.

“The tank will give us trouble. Take him out.”

Wildrider snorted. “Sure, give us the easy job?”

He and Dragstrip backed away from the bluffs, transformed and peeled out.

* * *

Brainstorm breathed a sigh of relief as the transport trundled along the speedway. Compared to the bumpy off road section, they were gliding on zero-friction fluid now.

“Hello paved roads,” he murmured to himself. He picked up the radio.

“Looks like smooth sailing from here.”

Hardhead growled, ‘Why did someone have to jinx it?’

Highbrow radioed in, “Alert! Alert! Two vehicles approaching at high velocity.”

“Is speaking too soon something you’re taught or just raw talent,” Hardhead yelled at Brainstorm.

“Sorry. I’ll man the guns.”

“Negative,” Hardhead ordered, “They maybe bandits, they maybe travelers. We don’t fire until we are sure.”

A maroon and yellow racer and the dark grey sedan with red-tinted windows came barreling down the speedway. The Autobots held their fire as they whipped past Chromedome, then the transport truck and zipped by Hardhead without incident.

They continued west into the setting sun and then spun around charging the convoy. Hardhead swore and made a tight u-turn. Rolling backwards, the tank let his cannon do the talking. He fired at the racers while yelling for the convoy to keep formation and at double time.

Dragstrip and Wildrider weaved and bobbed around the incoming shelling. The glaring sun ruined Hardhead’s aim. The two split going into a pincers maneuver. Hardhead saw their strategy. If he targets one, the other blindsides him. But it couldn’t be helped. He fired at the yellow racecar. Dragstrip braked just before the flats erupted from the shelling.

Wildrider came in on Hardhead’s exposed flank. The tank swung his turret around, but knew he’d be too late. In a flurry of silver dust and debris, Highbrow descended forcing Wildrider to veered off.

“Slag it! What are you doing Highbrow? Get back to the convoy!”

“Unappreciative,” Highbrow declared. He lifted off and turned to rejoin the transport truck. That’s when his port side rotor exploded. Highbrow spun out of control crashing into the flats.

From the overlook, Motormaster watched Highbrow spiral into the ground.

“Good shot, Dead End,” he radioed, “Now the truck.”

Perched in the tree line 3 cyberstadis from the highway, Dead End lined up his next shot. Chromedome and the transport where speeding away. Dead End hit the rear tire first. The truck skidded and swerved. Dead End lined up his shot: the front tires. He fired, but the tan car dropped back and took the shot. Dead End swore mightily and took aim, but the transport jack-knifed into the drainage ditch running alongside the speedway.

Motormaster watched the wreckage with a slight frown on his face. Not exactly as plan, but the truck was stopped and two of its defenders are down. Now for the third.

Hardhead heard the crash. It took years of military discipline to focus on the fight ahead and not turn around. He can’t help anyone if he’s offline. The racer was keeping his distance while the sedan came around for another charge. Hardhead transformed. He couldn’t outrun them. He’d have to outfight them. As both cars speed toward him, the ground beneath Hardhead’s feet began vibrating and then exploded. Hardhead went flying. Dragstrip swerved to avoid the massive crater in the highway. Wildrider spun out and transformed.

“Hey!” He yelled at Motormaster. “A little warning next time!”

“You nearly took off my front end with that,” Dragstrip joined.

Motormaster didn’t respond. He shouldered his disruptor cannon and made his way down the bluffs.

“I hate this job, more and more,” Wildrider growled. He transformed and sped toward the overturned truck. Dragstrip did the same.

* * *
A good scientist gathers the facts, develops a hypothesis and then tests that hypothesis. Brainstorm gathered the facts. The truck was nose-in a drainage ditch. He recalled the rear tire going and Chromedome getting hit. Hardhead wasn’t yelling at him, which seemed odd.

“Hypothesis?” Brainstorm asked himself.

They had been ambushed. Chromedome was down possibly Hardhead and Highbrow too. Brainstorm grabbed the radio transmitter.

“Mayday! Mayday! Transport down. If there are any Autobot units please respond. Coordinates are…”

Brainstorm looked up. A white and blue bot appeared on the road. He lobbed a grenade at the cabin. Brainstorm braced himself for an explosion but instead the grenade glowed a bright blue. His control panel glowed bright blue and then shorted out.

“EMP grenade,” Brainstorm breathed, “Hypothesis? They want what’s in the truck and don’t want to damage it.”

The bot leveled his blaster at the cabin window.

“Never mind that!” Motormaster ordered, “Over here! Lets get her open!”

Breakdown holstered his weapon and came around the back. Wildrider and Dragstrip just arrived.

“Report,” Motormaster ordered.

“Like you don’t know,” Wildrider snarked. Motormaster glared at him.

“The flier is down and the tank is knocked to scrapdom.”

“We should finish them off,” Dragstrip demanded.

Motormaster smiled. “That’s surprisingly vicious coming from you.”

“This is race. I’m in it to win.”

“You can hunt them at your leisure. First, we get what we came for,” Motormaster declared.

Breakdown talked to himself as he attached cables to the back door.

“The trick to Autobot security is using a needle not a hammer. Autobots know Decepticons would sooner blast a door than try the knob. They expect overwhelming force. But with a little patience and an energon spike…”

There was a click and a hiss.

“That’s it?” Motormaster asked.

“Almost,” Breakdown explained. “There are two more.”

“Well, hurry then.”

* * *
Silverbolt and Slingshot led their squads in silence. They heard the distress call from the convoy.

“Mayday! Mayday! Transport down. If there are any Autobot units please re…”

The transmission cut out.

“Did anyone get coordinates?” Silverbolt asked.

“I got a fix,” offered Air Raid.

“Relay them to Perceptor,” Slingshot groused.

An expectant pause stretched before Air Raid asked, “You don’t want to engage?”

“No,” Slingshot sulked, “Let them handle it.”

The others were stunned but maintained their heading to Fortress Omega. Silverbolt broke formation first. The hypersonic transport banked and jetted toward the distress signal. Air Raid broke away next followed by Firefly and Sky Dive. Slingshot kept his course a minute longer, then turned and joined the others.

“Just so we are clear,” Slingshot spoke, “I’m not helping those ingrates. I just itching to hit something really hard.”

Silverbolt answered, “Noted.”

* * *
Brainstorm heard the hiss of another lock opening. He slammed his fists on the dashboard. The cabin maybe blast-proof but without power it might as well be a stasis cell. He had to stop them. Then inspiration hit him.

He ducked under the dash and tore off the control panel. He traced the cables until he found the ones he was looking for.

“This one leads to the turret guns. This one leads to the locks. Splice them together and the next time they pop a lock they’ll get a nasty surprise.”

Brainstorm didn’t wait long with the hiss of the final lock came random fire from the truck’s turrets. He giggled as the bandits scrambled for cover.

“I thought you said the truck was offline!” Motormaster roared over the gunfire

Breakdown shouted back, “It was!”

Wildrider offered his advice, “Perhaps somebody’s being clever.”

Motormaster unholstered his ion blaster. Two well placed shots and the exploding turrets rocked the truck. He stalked over to the front and glared at Brainstorm. He fired a couple rounds that caromed off the cabin.

“We’ll see how clever you feel after you are draw and quarter by my friends here.”

Brainstorm didn’t reply. He was afraid his voice would betray him. Instead, he stared back at Motormaster.

“It’s open, boss,” Breakdown shouted.

Motormaster returned to the truck’s cargo as the doors swung open. There in the trailer lay eight glowing shards. Each one worth a fortune and a half.

“Glorious,” Motormaster cooed. He transformed into a semi.

“Now, load me up.”

Breakdown entered the back of the truck and found the relics piled up in the corner. His EMP grenade shorted out the locks and whatever device used to secure them. They looked undamaged, except one sparking and sputtering at the bottom of the pile. Breakdown shrugged. It wasn’t his problem so long as the Decepticons paid up.

“Give me a hand, will ya?” The hacker called to the two racers.

Dragstrip and Wildrider started to climb in when an explosion knocked them off their feet. It came from the bluffs. Wildrider scanned the ridge.

“It’s the tank,” he fumed.

“And that is why we finish off the competition,” Dragstrip shouted.

“Fine, take him out,” Motormaster grumbled.

Dragstrip and Wildrider charged the bluffs as another round of shelling exploded. Breakdown poked his head out of the Autobot transport.

“Not you,” Motormaster ordered, “Finish loading.”

* * *
Hardhead fired again and then pulled back. He figured he had about a minute before someone arrived. He transformed into robot mode and clutched at his side. That disruptor blast tore up his upper right torso. His left arm hung limply from a bent strut. He was lucky he could still transform.

The old soldier swayed a bit. He leaned against the rock face for support. One, maybe two of the bandits would arrive soon he had to be ready.

The blocky gray one was the leader, the general. He knew officers like this one. They never get their hands dirty. He’d send a subordinate, probably not the blue and white one. He filled some support role. That left Hardhead’s previous dance partners, the racers.

Hardhead picked the roughest terrain he could find so their speed wouldn’t be an advantage. He had the high ground, that should count for something and he had one final trick. As long as he remained conscious.

Laser fire brought him back to the present. Dragstrip and Wildrider were charging up the slope.

“Now or never,” Hardhead muttered.

He turned around, aimed at the base of a boulder and fired. The giant rock wobbled for a second and then rolled down the slope past Hardhead and on top of Wildrider and Dragstrip. The two racers turned and fled the oncoming rockslide.

Hardhead smiled, but couldn’t gloat. He had to get into a defensible position before they returned.

* * *
Chromedome heard an explosion and looked over his shoulder. He saw a plume of smoke. There was an 89% probability that was Hardhead mounting some counterattack. He would need back up.

The tan and red robot limped toward a crater with a smoke trail. That sniper shot got his driver side, front wheel. That damaged translated to his hip in robot mode. He couldn’t drive and walking was agony. As he peered over the crater rim, he saw Highbrow. By comparison, Chromedome was having an oil bath.

Highbrow lay upside down. The twin rotors sparked and sputtered but didn’t move. Burn marks covered most of Highbrow’s body but the flames had died down. Chromedome slid down the slope to him.

“Highbrow? Can you hear me?”

The grey and blue aircraft haltingly spoke.

“Alert! Alert! Danger approaching!”

Chromedome tried flipping upside down helicopter over.

“Old news, pal. The danger is already here.”

“You’ve got that right,” sneered a voice from behind.

Chromedome turned around and saw Dead End standing at the top of the crater. His rifle pointed at Chromedome’s spark chamber. The Autobot slowly raised his hands. Dead End scowled in disgust.

“We all meet our end. The lucky ones get to see it coming.”

A scream could be heard on the wind. As the scream grew louder, Dead End lifted his head. A look of recognition passed his face just as the missile impacted and sent the crimson sniper flying. Chromedome peered through dust and smoke and spotted five jets roaring overhead.

“Yeah! Thank you, you magnificent flyboys!” he cheered.

He returned to Highbrow and helped him flip over. The tide might be turning.

* * *

Hardhead set his back against a fold in the Barium Bluffs. He couldn’t run, barely stand and had no idea if his comrades were alive or dead. But Hardhead wasn’t resigned, he was mad. Mad that an escort mission went oblong so quickly. Mad that he wasn’t fighting on a battlefield but hiding from some thieves.

“Well, if this is my end and I am going to join the Allspark. I’m going to need some company.”

He heard footsteps approaching. Hardhead gritted his teeth.

He started to yell “For Cybertron!” but was drowned out by the screams of jet engines and then explosions. Hardhead poked his head out of the crevice. He saw Dragstrip and Wildrider running, and then transforming to get away even faster. Two jets swooped past Hardhead and strafed the fleeing races.

Hardhead could scarcely comprehend the reversal of fortunes.

“The Aerialbots? Good.”

Hardhead collapsed.

* * *
Slingshot and Silverbolt stared into the cleaned out trailer. Firefly pried the cabin door open as Brainstorm pushed from the inside. He stumbled onto the ground as the door gave way.

“They took them,” Brainstorm explained, “They took them all.”

“All eight relics?” Silverbolt asked.

Brainstorm nodded.

“They departed seven and a half minutes ago.”

“Which way did they go?” Slingshot asked eagerly.

“Due east.”

“We can catch them easily,” he boasted.

“Slingshot!” Silverbolt shouted. “Our duty is here helping the wounded.”

“And there are a lot of them,” Sky Dive commented as he helped Chromedome to the truck.

“There’s one more in a crater half a click southwest of here and Air Raid spotted another atop the bluffs.”

“Hardhead?” Brainstorm asked.

Silverbolt turned to Slingshot.

“We need to retrieve the injured and do what we can for them.”

Slingshot scowled.

“You can do what you want. I came here to mangle some metal. Air Raid, Firefly with me!”

Firefly who was helping Sky Dive with Chromedome looked caught. He didn’t disobey orders, but he also wanted to do the most good. Sky Dive saw the conflict and shouldered Chromedome, giving the red and white Aerialbot thumbs up telling him it was okay. From the bluffs above, Air Raid transformed and took off. Slingshot did the same followed by a reluctant Firefly. Silverbolt watched as the three jets regrouped and took off due east.

Brainstorm helped bring Chromedome into the trailer for some cover. As Brainstorm started to look him over, Chromedome added, “I hope those guys aren’t your buddies, because I don’t think too highly of them right now.”

Sky Dive said nothing. What could he say? He left the trailer, muttering to Silverbolt that he’d collect Highbrow. Silverbolt nodded and went to fetch Hardhead.

* * *
Motormaster barreled down the Polyhex speedway. The others followed behind in a loose convoy with Dead End bringing up the rear. The red car with a yellow racing stripe passed Blackjack, then Wildrider and Dragstrip. Breakdown gave him some space so he could drive alongside Motormaster.

“Dead End? So glad you could join us,” Motormaster growled.

“No thanks to you. I provided cover for you. The least you could have done was return the favor.”

“No, the least I could have done is nothing. Peasants serve the king. The king of the road doesn’t stoop to serve peasants.”

Motormaster swung out of his lane almost connecting with Dead End. The sedan dropped back to avoid the collision and found himself pacing with Breakdown.

“He’s a real piece of work,” Breakdown commented.

“Oh, he’s a piece of something,” Dead End added.

Blackjack piped up from the back of the group.

“We’ve got incoming: Airborne.”

“Rematch time,” Wildrider chuckled.

Motormaster passed a signpost. It read: ‘Crystal City – East, Sprocket – North, Scramble City - South.’

“New plan: Wildrider and Dead End. Handle them.”

“Two of us against five of them?” Dead End asked.

“Three,” Blackjack corrected. “The odds are 2 to 3 in the Aerialbots favor.”

“Even better,” Wildrider chuckled.

Dead End replied, “I don’t see how. We are still outnumbered.”

“Just take care of it,” Motormaster yelled.

“Absolutely, your majesty,” Dead End sneered. He spun around. Wildrider did the same.

As the convoy charged on, Wildrider and Dead End transformed. Dead End began assembling his rifle.

Wildrider limbered up.

“You shoot ‘em down and I’ll knock ‘em down?” he asked.

“Sounds as good a plan as any,” Dead End replied.

He fitted the scope on the rifle and peered through. He spotted three Aerialbots rocketing their way. He took aim at the red jet with the white wings the easiest to spot in the growing dark. One shot winged him. The next got his engine. Firefly went down.

Wildrider waited for the others to fall. And waited and waited. The jets kept going and Dead End didn’t take another shot. Within a moment, they were out of range.

Wildrider shouted, “You could have taken down all of them, ya’know.”

“I could…but let the ‘King of the Road’ stoop a little. You can take one Aerialbot?”

Wildrider gave a wicked grin. “Easily.”

He charged at the dazed Firefly.

* * *

“Firefly’s down,” Air Raid shouted.

Slingshot was silent a moment before saying “Press on!”

“What?”

“We press on. The thieves are in sight. Firefly can hold his own until we’re done with them.”

Air Raid’s retort was drowned out by laser fire. Dragstrip and Breakdown set up a crossfire to bring them down. Slingshot deftly wove through the flak. Air Raid wasn’t so lucky. Slingshot turned around to save his friend, but the thieves pressed their attack with only one target to focus on. Slingshot banked and continued chasing Motormaster.

* * *
Motormaster’s headlights flashed over a sign reading ‘Scramble City – next exit’. The glittering city was within view. He could hole up at the Grease Pit and set up a new meeting spot with Megatron. The Decepticon leader might get torqued over the change of plans, but what could he do.

Motormaster neared the first off ramp, when a missile screamed overhead blasting away half the ramp and leaving the other half crumbling. Motormaster came to a screeching halt as a snub fight lowered into a hover in front of him.

“Surrender!”

“Now!” Motormaster countered.

A sleek black ‘con hopped on to Motormaster’s trailer. He transformed and raced along the roof before launching himself at Slingshot. In midair, Blackjack transformed back to robot mode and grabbed Slingshot by his left wing. Slingshot’s went astray. Blackjack tore into the jet, ripping off panels and punching avionics. Motormaster took off toward the Downtown Interchange.

* * *