Three years after the destruction of Jhiaxus and his Second Generation forces by the Swarm in 1994, the fragile Autobot-Decepticon Alliance makes ready to face the....

DARK HORIZON

Prologue

He sits alone, the ghostly light of display screens glinting across the unsullied facets of his pristine form. The air of utter solitude that surrounds him is so thick it that would render most souls desolate, gladly embracing the sweet mercies of madness. However for the venerable occupant of the only chair in the command room, it had been a fact of life for a very long time. That fateful day so long ago had fixed his destiny. “A Matrix bearer always stands alone, yet is deprived of the most basic privacy”. Sentinel Prime, in the brief time he had known him, had dropped numerous cryptic remarks. The lieutenant he’d been at the time was always in perpetual discomfort over being chosen to be the protector of the reclusive Matrix Bearer. Sentinel had come forward from wherever he had hidden himself, from where he watched over the Transformer race, to place his seal of approval on the Iaconian led Autobots. To think, the Guardian of the Matrix had come to aid the Autobots in their darkest hour. ‘Little did I know that those days would shine brightly in the shadow of the horrors to come.’

‘Why did you leave us so soon?’ asked this Prime of himself and the fragment of Sentinel that lived on inside him. The ancient one had spoken true, the long years as Matrix Bearer had left him increasingly separated from his fellow Autobots. Who could he who was considered wisest, turn to for advice, for solace? Being catapulted into the Autobot leadership took him even further from his friends and the war had left those few. The younger Autobots had never known him as he once was, how Cybertron was. They did not remember the way the Golden Dome of the Celestial Temple shone under the twin suns of Alpha Centauri, or the way its glorious spires soared up towards the heavens. But those fixtures of his youth were now little more than images conjured up in oaths. Oh Cybertron was no longer a wasteland thanks to the planet’s rebirth after the destruction of Unicron. But it was no longer his Cybertron, and as it had for millions of Earth years, the metal world hurtled though space with no solar system to call home. The sheer violence of the early war had wrenched Cybertron from its orbit.

Besides, both they and he knew there was a permanent and unbridgeable difference between them. He was Optimus Prime, fourth Bearer of the Creation Matrix. He who possessed the last of Primus’ essence, the un-distilled substance of the Transformers’ god-like creator. He who had lead the Autobots for so long that they could imagine no one else in the role of commander. And in the times he had been incapacitated or destroyed, they had proven how much they needed him. Except for brief interludes it was all ways to him all eyes looked for salvation. Such a weight to carry, all the more so now. Oh, he had no dream to give it up; for Optimus Prime, duty was life’s blood. But he was so tired.

Were his predecessors this melancholy or as unsure of themselves? His question was answered immediately. His encounter with Rodimus Prime had made it clear his inner conflict was not unique. Rodimus, Hot Rod remade by the Matrix, had been his successor in a future that appeared increasingly unlikely since the evens of what had come to be called the Time Wars. The way Rodimus had regarded him was exactly how he looked at his predecessors. “Except poor Hot Rod has known me all these years. Sentinel’s reclusiveness spared me from the hero worship with which Hot Rod regards me.” He frowned inwardly. ‘Another reason to stay alive, Hot Rod should have the chance grow up in his own time. Though,’ Prime reflected, ‘Hot Rod has matured quite a bit in these last years’. A rare smile touched his eyes. The impulsive young Autobot reminded Prime of his earlier self. But the moment passed and the gloom deepened.

At the centre of the difference was the Matrix. Like all of the Guardians, Optimus had a special relationship with the sacred vessel. He was not its master, nor was it his. But to say it had not changed him would be a mistake. One needed only look at the massive changes wrought within Starscream after his very brief possession of the Matrix. It was still not wise to trust him yet, but that homicidal streak seemed almost non-existent these days. Prime recalled Starscream’s words before the treacherous Decepticon had returned the Matrix, “I don’t want to be a hero...” Optimus smiled at that, ‘Stranger than fiction...’

No, Optimus was not the young hot headed medic, or the champion gladiator of Iacon, or even the brash lieutenant he once was. But he was still himself: working with the Matrix had allowed him to avoid being swept away. But though Prime never acknowledged it, it was also the strength of his personality that kept the Matrix from controlling him. It was always there though, his second soul, along with the fragments of his predecessors. “...deprived of the most basic privacy.” The Matrix was just always there, a comfort and a burden.

But these thoughts as depressing as they were, were preferable to the matters at hand. Matters in which the Matrix had also played apart. Restored to him by the Swarm, the Matrix, though diminished yet again, pressed at him more strongly than ever before. With the Swarm reborn though the Matrix and Jhiaxus’s Second Generation forces destroyed, he had supposed the Matrix would be at rest. He was wrong. Some part of him knew it was not over. Oh, he knew the Second Generation forces were more than just those in Jhiaxus’s command but there was something else.

A title, the Liege Maximo, haunted his every waking hour. He recalled that Grimlock had mentioned that name to him too, and that place as well... The Hub. The Hub meant nothing to him but that name, that title burned and had not stopped burning since Jhiaxus had uttered it as the maddened Cybertronian had tried to tear him to shreds. Something about the name flashed as he and the Matrix were absorbed and spread through the Swarm. Overwhelmed by the experience, Prime had almost missed it. Somehow the Swarm had opened up the Matrix in its entirety and absorbed everything. He almost envied the strange offshoot of his race, for the Matrix never revealed everything to anyone, even its guardian. There was an air of great dread around that name that told Optimus there was more to this Second Generation. Much more. So Optimus Prime was headed to the heart of Cybertron to find answers yet again.

This shadow of the Liege Maximo and the possibility that only the minutest tip of the Second Generation iceberg had been eliminated was taxing in itself. However the realities of this alliance and the never ending job of picking up the pieces of the Civil war had everyone at the command level of both the Decepticons and Autobots at the breaking point.

The strain of restoring as many of the fallen who could be saved with the Matrix had left Prime hovering near death for several days. First Aid had told him that this new form had sustained him far beyond anything his old body could have handled. That was at least one comfort. Despite his best hopes he was unsure how long this alliance would last, and the terrifying powers Megatron’s new form left Prime uneasy. The ease with which Megatron had dispatched him on Earth before, left him feeling cold. So too did the horrifying strength of the now departed Jhiaxus. However the Swarm, it seemed, had equipped his new body to face the realities of a new era. He marvelled at the new strength he possessed and the new sensory abilities. One of the greatest advantages of this Swarm creation was that it seemed to channel the Matrix energies in such a fashion that the limits of Prime’s new found abilities seemed as boundless as Megatron’s. Prime wondered how much this mass use of the Matrix had resulted in the increasing force he felt coming from it. Especially since in this new form he was united with the Matrix more than ever.

The strangeness continued as the deference he was shown by all continued unabated, and in fact had increased since his rebirth from the Swarm. Even his defeating Unicron and his rebirth afterwards did not have such an effect. Even Megatron looked at him differently, though how much this had to do with the massive changes he had seen in Megatron since his return was unknown. Perhaps it was cumulative. Return from the dead enough times and.... well what could you expect.

Prime began to wonder about Megatron’s changes and how much the Decepticon leader’s bonding with Ratchet had affected his old foe. They had been melded together when Ratchet had managed to transport explosives meant to destroy the Autobot’s ship the Ark, into Megatron’s base. The explosion had catapulted them into the open trans-warp gateway and fused them together at the molecular level. They had been separated, but Fixit had said one could not live without the other as their nervous systems could not be totally separated. Which in turn lead to the very difficult task of finding a way to ask Megatron about Ratchet’s fate. If Megatron lived Ratchet must be alive. A cursory search of Earth was all the human officials would countenance after Bludgeon had been dealt with the first time. Neither Megatron or Ratchet had been found. They spoke to Spike Witwicky, the headmaster of Fortress Maximus and self appointed guardian of earth. He left a disturbing tale of an encounter with a completely insane Galvatron. The future incarnation of Megatron had been seen to be destroyed at the end of the Time Wars incident by forces unknown. But with Unicron destroyed and Megatron still Megatron, this other Galvatron was a disturbing puzzle, made more disturbing by the fact that no sign of his body had been found. The disappearance of Shockwave was also unsettling. He had gone to ground once before and his reappearance could pose a serious threat to the fragile alliance. With all this on his mind Prime had gone to find Megatron after his recovery....

‘Always on broken glass as the humans say,’ Prime considered as took the shuttle up to the Decepticon’s moon sized warship, the Warworld. He had been walking very carefully around Megatron ever since they struck up this alliance that still thankfully held civil war at bay. He didn’t fool himself; as different as Megatron seemed he was still too much his old self to be prodded or totally trusted.

The shuttle docked and Prime got a salute from the pilot, one of the new Decepticons, Leadfoot. They were the one blessing out of the whole trauma of Megatron’s ruthless theft of the Matrix from his living body. Of all the Decepticons these seemed actually enthusiastic about the alliance. Oddly enough, they seemed more like Autobots and had at times referred to themselves as such.

He did not have time to ponder this further as the doors hissed open and before him stood Soundwave.

“Megatron awaits Optimus Prime,” said Soundwave flatly, unreadable as ever. He was glad though that Soundwave had survived. Ruthless and dangerous as he was, Soundwave was always highly rational and a stabilizing factor on all the Decepticon leaders he had served under. The very fact that he had never made a serious attempt to claim the leadership (as far as Prime knew) said a lot. However, his limited mind reading ability made almost everyone nervous and Prime had never been sure exactly what motivated Soundwave. He seemed to hold the Decepticon cause paramount, but Prime knew within every one of those warriors who stood up and followed Megatron in the first days of the war burned the desire to be ruled by no one.

He followed the blue purple sentinel down the corridor.

“What is Megatron’s state of mind today.”

“Impatient, you delay far too long over matters here on Earth,” curt and to the point, Soundwave never gave anything more than he was asked.

“We left too many loose ends here last time,” Prime replied with a slight quizzical note.

“Indeed,” he replied, with one of his rare, however faint expressions of humour as they came to the door.

Leaving Soundwave in the corridor Prime entered the room, followed by the soft swoosh of servos accenting the door sealing behind him. Megatron stood facing a window that looked upon the Earth below.

“I have never understood the affection you have for this world and its creeping inhabitants, Prime. Oh, I understand you feel responsible for the effects of our war due to that flaw of yours but it goes further than that. Am I right?”Megatron asked, turning to face Prime.

The two had been aware of the strange bond between them for along time, but all the time spent in close quarters over the last month had made each acutely aware of it. One does not face an opponent for millennia and not know him like a brother.

“You are correct,”

“I would be interested to know why... when all else is settled. You have told us of your misgivings about there being more to this Second Generation. Based on Grimlock’s reports and my own feelings I have no doubts you are right at least in terms of numbers, otherwise we would not be speaking so amicably right now. Your misgivings have a rather unfortunate tendency to be correct,” He turned around sharply, raising his voice, “So in view of that, why are we still here?”

“Loose ends Megatron. Last time the war ended I left far too many here.”

“Including me, Prime?” He asked with an edge that was half amusement, half threat.

“Two of the present loose ends do concern you.”

“Ratchet is nice and safe, in stasis locked deep in the Rocky mountains of Canada. The other?” The Decepticon commander asked with a note of menace and oddly enough a slight note of discomfort.

“Galvatron,” Optimus replied flatly.

“It’s true, you know everything Prime,” he replied. Optimus had never seen Megatron more unsettled. “Did the Matrix tell you?” he added with a sneer. “Or wait! That snivelling weakling Maximus.”

Annoyed at the reference to his late friends Spike and Fortress Maximus who had died in attempt to destroy the being who stood before him, Prime responded, “Yes Spike his headmaster told us of his encounter with Galvatron. Do you know how he managed to return?”

“Return? Presumably the same way he time travelled the first time”.

“You disappeared before the time vortex tore him apart. I assumed you had been killed when you did not reappear to challenge Scorponok after the Time Wars incident was settled. You should have learned of Galvatron’s apparent destruction somehow.”

Megatron did not respond. He did not move, he did not twitch.

He recalled his clone. The one Straxus, the one time ruler of Cybertron had constructed after he had failed to possess Megatron’s mind. He had never stoped to think what his other self had done. He had assumed it had stayed on Cybertron.

“Megatron?”

“Leave me Prime.”

Optimus did not move.

“I said leave!”

“You don’t know...” returned Prime squinting his eyes, uncertain of what this meant.

“Leave or I will vaporize you where you stand!”

The Decepticon leader’s body tensed, a snarl spread across his face. Even now the rage came so easily.

“I doubt that. I know you too well. You’re not even aware of the Time Wars incident. You could squeeze it out of one of your soldiers but questions would be asked. Besides this Galvatron’s body was never found. And neither was...”

“Shockwave’s. I know,” He paused and considered. “Very well! This stays between you and me,” finished Megatron with an air of threat but also something Optimus thought he would never hear. Trust.

Megatron told Prime of how Straxus, reduced to surviving on life support had attempted to take over Megatron’s body while both he and Prime had temporarily had been on Cybertron. This failed but had gradually driven Megatron mad until he disappeared in the exploding space bridge. Straxus had made a clone of Megatron and placed his mind in that body and hid it away in the sewers of London. He went on to tell of how this clone had destroyed himself, after encountering him, the real Megatron on Cybertron and learning the truth.

Prime in turn told him of the deeds of his other self and went on to explain the havoc inflicted upon the time continuum by Galvatron’s return to the past in Megatron’s absence. Galvatron’s actions in the late 1980's had seemingly veered the timeline away from Galvatron’s future. The stress of this became critical after Scourge and Cyclonus returned to the past without displacing anyone, and Cyclonus’ subsequent death. Temporal rifts formed in both present and future that nearly tore Earth and Cybertron to shreds and eventually claimed all three violators. But not before dozens of Autobots and Decepticons had been killed or horribly wounded by the raving future Decepticon... and Megatron’s clone.

“I didn’t realise it was Galvatron until after I awoke buried in the ruins of the Ark. He gave no indication that we had met before. However my memory is... hazy for quite some time after my resurrection. I do recall though that he first tried to kill me.”

“Our previous experience has indicated numerous time lines exist. As you were not in any position to be recreated into Galvatron, it seems likely that Unicron borrowed another Galvatron from an alternate time-line. A mysterious warrior of great power appeared during the battle with Unicron to strike the first blow. I have often wondered who that was. The other Galvatron’s attempt to create a weapon to destroy Unicron in our time makes it almost certain that this warrior was your Galvatron.”

“Had he accepted any master he could be no incarnation of me. Though I didn’t recognise him I did sense a kinship with him. He also had within him that flaw which has tormented me all my existence. You are well aware of my brushes with madness Prime, so I have no need to hide the fact of that from you. Loss of control has cost me dearly Prime. I am subservient to nothing save my will Prime, even my own emotions can have no claim on me.”

“But you did decide to join him didn’t you.” A statement not a question.

“We know each other all too well! I would work with another my equal. But there is only one Megatron. In the time since our encounter I have seen in my mind’s eye again and again the look of fear in his eyes. Megatron does not fear. He had been cowed, Megatron conquers,” he paused, eyes looking inward, face raw and open. And yet even in the midst of that great will was a wisp of the fear he had just denied. Optimus stood in momentary awe of his first unhindered glimpse of his ancient foe.

But the moment passed and Megatron’s familiar expression of aloof disdain and absolute confidence returned. “You are right Prime there are loose ends. Shockwave was aboard the Ark. Galvatron and I were in the process of dismantling him when Ratchet crashed us. When I awoke there was no sign of his body, so I presumed he escaped. I discretely scoured Earth for him and any surviving Decepticons but it seems Bludgeon had all of them with him.”

“Then we stay.... And retrieve Ratchet,” Prime said firmly.

“Not until we’re separated. Totally,” Megatron turned to face the planet again. “The effect is less now, but I can still feel his unconscious weight in my mind. You either have me or him Prime. I will not allow you to put me though that again,” Megatron again dipping back into the fury that Prime knew so well.

“At least let some of both our people look at the problem. You wouldn’t be opposed to being free of this I trust,” Prime replied with equal venom.

“And have my troops find out. Are you mad!” added Megatron heckles rising.

“If I’m not mistaken Soundwave already should.”

Megatron tensed then eased back to the window.

“I know he does. However he hasn’t said anything.”

“Many in my command know. It’s bound to come out eventually.”

“Damn you Prime! You could almost be a Decepticon at times...” He laughed, then became very still and a small smirk spread across his metal lips. “No, not ever.”

“I will allow it, Autobot scientists only with Soundwave to observe everything. Perhaps his abilities could prove useful. Perhaps Mindwipe’s powers could also be useful but I’ll have a gun to his head at all times. He was one of Scorponok’s troops, and a rebellious one at that. This fails and Ratchet goes back. I will have no one in my head. Especially not him. Nor do I wish to die when he decides to sacrifice himself again.”

Prime lowered his head a fraction of a millimetre and knew he could do no more for his friend, too much was at stake. “Agreed.”

Megatron nodded and cruel grin formed.

“Yes you’ve grown crafty Prime, bringing up Shockwave was a nice touch,” the smile faded, “But don’t presume to push me again.”

With that he walked out with Prime knowing that despite his concessions, Megatron was the victor in the encounter.

And so it went. Ratchet was recovered and experiments began. Hopes were high with all of the new alien technology encountered recently. But to no avail. The bond could be weakened further but not destroyed. No longer was it conscious, though time had removed most of that. But First Aid and Fixit remained resolute, “One dies, so does the other.” And so did Megatron. With no choice other than to restart hostilities Prime had to abandon his friend to his cold tomb on Earth.

Of Galvatron and Shockwave there was no sign. Many hoped they were gone but others knew better...

In the mean time the Autobots having done what they could left Earth. Humanity had all it could take of death brought by the giant robots from the heavens. ‘And I can’t bear to have another human life on my conscience.’ The affects of the war from 1984 until 1991 were bad enough but Earth’s recent unwilling involvement in the Transformer’s war had been the most devastating. First came the Decepticon assault, ‘Bludgeon’s attempt to draw me out.’ A ploy resulting in a human death toll in the millions. Then came Jhiaxus’ war of total destruction. The San Francisco of the present was a mirror smooth crater lapped by the waters of the Pacific. Three quarters of a million atomised in the blink of an eye.

A base was established on Titan, the largest of Jupiter’s moons to safeguard the Sol system in case the Cybertronians decided to strike near home again. The Decepticons took possession of one of the Cybertronian worlds, Q’hof, that had already been rendered lifeless, in accordance to the Autobots insistence. Cybertron was divided and a joint council formed. Prime and Megatron were at its head, with Prowl, Grimlock and Jazz representing the Autobots and Soundwave, Onslaught and Darkwing for the Decepticons.

Now Prime was headed back to Cybertron after he and Megatron had overseen the establishment of the two bases, on Titan and Q’hof. Titan was primarily Autobot with Jazz in command with several Decepticon observers commanded by Darkwing Cybertron was joint governed by Grimlock and Soundwave. Many questioned this decision but Prime knew Grimlock had more subtlety than many gave him credit for. However Prime also assigned Perceptor to aid in keeping peaceful dialogue and Kup to keep his jaded eye on everything. Q’hof was commanded by Onslaught, who had been one of the warriors resurrected by the Matrix. The Autobot observers were commanded by Prowl, who Prime knew would be diplomatic and keep his eyes open.

Several other tasks needed attending. Prime had sworn them to be the last of their race but the need for more troops weighed heavily on Prime’s mind. On Megatron’s too. Nothing came of it because Prime refused to create more warriors who would be definitively Decepticon. The Alliance nearly fell apart right there. But Prime was able to protect his prerogative. Being a semi-religious figure had its upside. However the more time that passed though the more precarious the situation became. The Decepticons were itching for action. Megatron declared they were ready.

So Prime was on his way to Cybertron to get the answers he needed.

A buzz indicated someone wanted to see him

“Come.”

“We’re here Prime,” Megaton’s form filled the door.

Prime rose heavily, for a part of him somehow knew what he would find.

“Lets go.”

Chapter One

The Dinobot Commander was annoyed but that was nothing new. “Dumb ‘Cons,” he mumbled as he walked across the spaceport landing pad. This time he didn’t care if Soundwave’s legendary hearing picked it up.

Grimlock had been mumbling, thinking, and occasionally screaming those two words over and over again since Prime had placed him in charge of the Autobots on Cybertron. ‘Damn you Prime you’ve made me a bur... borocr... grr... paper-pusher. Yes, right human term. How does he always do it?’ Grimlock pondered. For what he knew wouldn’t be the last time Grimlock tried to figure out how Prime usually got him to (eventually) do what he wanted. Oh the one part of that answer Grimlock finally admitted to himself in those horrible hours as a prisoner aboard Jhiaxus’ flagship Twilight and on the transport that was to send them to something called the Liege Maximo. His raid had gone horribly wrong. Jhiaxus had trapped him perfectly. Worse than that, he had to watch as Red Alert was reduced to a melted, smoldering corpse right before his eyes. His fault. ‘Prime, right. Prime always right,’ were his thoughts as he sat in the holding cell. An admission that galled him to no end

Oh he’d never give Prime the satisfaction of hearing those words. However the worst thing was that instead of that acceptance making him hate Prime more, Grimlock found himself respecting Prime and liking him. Well what could he do when Prime had time and time again had proven how empty his unending litany of “Prime coward” had been. ‘And after all me do, Prime put me in command, twice’. It made no sense yet Prime explained it as the announcements were about to be made.

“As one human saying goes, I can be sure you won’t ‘give away the farm’. I need someone on Cybertron who won’t turn his back on the Decepticons. At the end of the alliance to defeat Unicron it was you who had a contingency plan ready for Bludgeon’s treachery.”

“A plan that nearly got everyone killed,” Grimlock had grumbled. What he did not add was, ‘and you had to come and save me’. It was that fact that still stuck in Grimlock’s craw. Prime had to rescue him from Jhiaxus’ trap too. Grimlock would admit to no one, last of all himself that his pride of old had depended on knowing he was stronger, braver, and in all ways better than Prime. Of late he tried to forget about that.... entirely.

“You had thought two steps ahead, its rare that one needs a third step,” Prime said in that frustrating tone he had. Even, not a trace of contempt or superiority, yet carrying that tremendous weight of experience, revealing that superior mind that birthed the words it carried. Yes, it drove iron filings up Grimlock’s neural receptors. Prime didn’t need to prove he was fit to lead, every fibre of his being resonated his fitness. And Grimlock was finally admitting it after years of denial and rebellion against it. ‘It not fair, me now have to live up to Prime and do it in this Alliance!’ Every time the word so much as grazed his consciousness he subconsciously growled.

But he knew Prime would have seen that third step and Grimlock knew that despite Prime’s consoling words that he expected he should have too.

‘Even Prowl (after me have to show him steps one and two) saw it. So what did me do’, Grimlock contemplated as he closed the last hundred metres between him and the waiting Soundwave, ‘Did I keep dignity, show me not care, that me learn.....’

“So.... what, You stick me with Prowl to give me next step!” was what he had said. Loudly.

Now despite the fact that Transformers like himself and Prime lacked what on a human would be a mouth, Grimlock could tell Prime was trying not to smile. The endless bickering between him and Prowl and exactly what each thought of the other was well known in the Autobot ranks.

“No. I’m leaving Kup and Perceptor with you, though.”

“Kup more suspicious than me!”

“Correct,” Prime said evenly, with a slight twinkle in his glowing yellow orbs.

Grimlock caught himself on the edge of a smile. He promptly began discussing details of the sharing of Cybertron, but he knew Prime had seen.

That was one and a half earth years ago and things had developed greatly since then. Defences all over Cybertron were higher than even at the peak intensity of the early days of the Civil war. Massive force shield generators all over the planet were nearing completion. Expeditions to dozens of worlds had Cybertron’s energy stockpiles higher than the peak of the Golden Age. They would be needed, given the amount of manufacturing, building and space flights that had to be powered. Ironically Cybertron was fast becoming the interstellar dreadnaught that Megatron had dreamed of all those millennia ago. The dream that had welded the survivors of the war that had destroyed the city states of Tarn and Vos, into the Decepticon army.

Oh all the work hadn’t gone off without a hitch though, random brawls between now allied Autobots and Decepticons broke out anywhere where members of both factions had been forced to work together or placed side by side by Prime’s integration attempts. And the killing of an Autobot seven months ago had nearly killed the alliance outright. Megatron summarily vaporising the offender upon discovery had smoothed things over somewhat. Though the fact that neither party in the whole disgraceful affair were liked by any of their comrades probably was as much a factor as Megatron’s immediate response. Despite his and Kup’s worst predictions things had actually settled down for the most part. That is if you ignored an air of tension so dense you’d swear Cybertron had an atmosphere of liquid mercury.

‘Oh well, some things more important.....’ He thought as he stood beside Soundwave. ‘Who me kidding, was Autobot dead, no matter who it was. Just prove we not one race.

Prime not always right,’ he almost smiled as the shuttle from Prime and Megatron’s ship settled down on the pad. ‘Heck me have to save him when he went off to Earth to talk to Megatron.’ He looked over at Soundwave, his fellow commander as unreadable as ever. One could never tell exactly what Soundwave thought. That was bad enough but given what was said about Soundwave’s abilities to read thoughts, made it all the more unsettling. Grimlock returned his gaze forward as the warning lights flicked off and the hum of the engines ceased. ‘Dumb ‘Cons.’ This time he did smile.

Peace.

Sweet oblivion. The red mist finally cleared forever. Silence....

And then he woke up.

The Darkmaiden flew silently from its home in the K’Tor cluster. From the Hub. Rook stood silently on the bridge beside the command console. He ignored the starscape as it sped past on the viewscreen. His new Liege Centurio was conducting one of his trademark surprise inspections of the ship. In that area if no where else Drakos was similar to his late overlord Jhiaxus. In appearance one would be hard pressed to find two more dissimilar Transformers. In contrast to Jhiaxus’ rounded form Drakos was all planes and sharp facets. His black, blue and silver colouring as well as his ground based assault vehicle transformation were almost perfect negatives of Jhiaxus. However it was in their personality matrices where the real differences lay. Where Jhiaxus had buried the primitive rage and violence present in almost all older Cybertronian stock, Drakos channelled it, mastering its terrible power. Jhiaxus before his break down in the conflict with their ancestors had been icily calm and controlled, never even raising his voice except as a point of oratory. Drakos seemed to be seething with unseen energies, dynamic, a god of fire to Jhiaxus’ god of ice.

‘Perhaps that is better. Jhiaxus had fooled himself that he no longer possessed those primitive emotions and instincts. That more than anything led to his downfall. At least this one acknowledges their existence. Though the possibility that he revels in them is unsettling.’

Rook still was puzzled at why such Transformers were selected for command of the Empire’s armies. Not as primitive as the Autobots and Megatron’s Decepticons, yet they were too close to such anachronisms for Rook’s liking. He had asked the Liege Maximo once.

“You and your kind are my flawless creations, without stain or flaw, yet you lack that crucial element needed for leadership,” Rook had not replied. One does not have a dialogue with a god. One listens, obeys and if privileged one may ask and be enlightened.

“Inspiration and original thought. As much a nuisance as independence is, properly bridled it has tremendous use. But as you have seen in Jhiaxus, when control is lost the consequences are dire.”

The explanation had aided in resolving some issues but had opened up more lines of inquiry. If he wished more answers he would have to spend enough time to formulate his questions properly to be of most use and least nuisance to his master. However after quick consideration he determined that this line of thought was unproductive and inefficient use of the time at hand.

‘Perhaps later,’ he thought and shelved the matter away. He then proceeded to file thought his experiences with the Autobots and the allied Decepticons and continued his analysis for when his commander required his opinion.

When he awoke he could not move.

He panicked.

Briefly.

Then through the red haze of his last moments he recalled what had happened. The water had caused considerable corrosion around his joints and also to his internal systems due to his numerous wounds. In addition to this the water had come in contact with his exposed circuit pathways and shorted them out. This together with the damage inflicted in the crash of the Ark and his maddened misadventures afterward had been extensive enough to cause him to shut down. He tried to access his internal chronometer but it seemed that was still out. He checked his systems; nearly sixty five percent down and very low on power.

But he was no inferior being. Weak for him was might in any other. He broke through the exterior corrosion around his joints with minimal damage to himself. He stood up in the frigid water and gazed upward.. The surface ice was one hundred fifty metres up and the hole he had come though was nowhere to be seen. Using only a brief scan to conserve power he determined that the shore was a little over a kilometre away. He realised he must have drifted. Weighing the alternatives he decided to remain unknown and began walking parallel to the shoreline and disappeared into the pitch black arctic waters.

Liege Centurio Drakos, new commander of the Empire’s elite, entered his bridge. More specifically he commanded this expeditionary force of one flagship with a compliment of twenty thousand. However an unusual twenty thousand. For the first time in millennia it was an expeditionary force which contained no engineers, cyberformers, architects or colonists. Only twenty thousand crack troops with a mission unheard of for such a great force: reconnaissance.

Drakos twitched slightly at that term. He like all of his kind were conquerors, destroying, exterminating to create true order out of the ashes of inferior beings pathetic attempts at civilization. He could not understand the amount of care that was being taken with regards to these ancestors. Yes the loss of seventeen battalions was a massive loss; the Empire had never lost that many troops en masse since its founding. Yet he agreed with most pragmatists that the matter-energy phenomenon that caused most of the losses could not have been devised by the Autobot and Decepticon alliance. Of course there was the factor of Rook’s report. Even though being put to rout before the disaster, the degree of Alliance’s resistence had mandated a whole sector’s worth of troops being sent to one pathetic mudball of a planet. In several encounters the Autobots and Decepticons had managed to wipe out three of those seventeen battalions.

‘Jhiaxus had gotten soft from too many easy conquests but he was no fool,’ Drakos admitted as he settled himself in the command console. Rook stood motionless beside him. He had already given the mandatory greeting and had been silent though his commander’s deliberations.

‘He has judged my mood perfectly, again. The perfect subordinate. And I suppose he did the same under Jhiaxus. I wonder if he realised Rook was one of the Liege Maximo’s eyes and ears? Probably not. He would have thought himself above our master’s scrutiny.’

He smiled at that thought. No one, even a Liege Legatio, highest of all in the Empire, did not rest under the Liege Maximo’s eye. Those at any kind of command level were always under total scrutiny. The higher up the tighter the focus. Command meant independent thought which could lead to rebellion. ‘Why does he suppose there are so few of the original Decepticons who came to the Hub. The inferior soldiers in common stock were killed off in early conquests, and though the leadership material died at lesser rates on the front lines, they more commonly met their end through the mercy of the Liege Maximo.’

Yes he had possessed very little respect for Jhiaxus. Jhiaxus had grown arrogant and overly convinced of his own immortality and usefulness. Worse he denied what he was, burying his true nature and cowering in fear of it. If there was one thing Drakos despised it was fear. He would never ascribe fear the actions the Liege Maximo was taking but this reconnaissance went against all his instincts. ‘If there is an enemy we exterminate it like all inferior beings.’

This caution reeked of the efficiency that seemed to be the mantra of all of the Empire’s tactical advisors. His orders were to determine the entirety of the Alliance’s tactical capabilities so as to determine the optimal strategy, and number of troops to remove the problem. ‘Send in a quarter million troops and sweep this sector clean. Problem solved.’

The worst part was that they were to engage in terror tactics, attempt to dissolve the Autobot Decepticon alliance and cripple their sources of supply if possible. However Drakos always obeyed, took over the situations no one wanted. Who else in their right mind would volunteer for a reconnaissance and guerilla mission with a flagship and twenty thousand troops. Any other Liege Centurio would go insane and do something foolish. But as much as it galled him, Drakos would not. Drakos followed orders, and Drakos knew he was unlike any other Liege Centurio. He could still relish in chaos.

Three hundred fifty kilometres down the shoreline the ice thinned and opened up to show open water. Not that the ice was a barrier, he just did not wish to waste energy or leave any evidence of his passing.

He walked up the shelves as the sea floor melded into a rocky beach. Using as little power as possible he checked his global position and compared it to the map of his Earth. Shore of Hudson’s bay, sixty one degrees north. Exactly where he wanted to be.

His massive form rose from the water and a flock of sea birds scattered into the air. The narrow strip of rocky beach led off into empty tundra. However on his Earth a secret military base had lain two hundred kilometres inland. A quick scan registered power emanations in that direction. Fuel, equipment and raw materials lay ahead. It would be the first of many sites to resemble their counterparts in his timeline. He began walking and grinned, what were a few humans compared to the might of Galvatron?

Chapter Two

Optimus Prime gazed across the rapidly expanding Xaaron spaceport, named after the late, long serving Autobot resistence leader. As this spaceport was on Autobot territory it was their prerogative to name it. He remembered his old friend, the Autobot who had handed him the reins of leadership all those years ago. When Iacon still stood, his war was on a scale he could comprehend, with an enemy that could be counted.

With his first step across the grounds with Megatron, Grimlock and Soundwave, Optimus stepped out of his reverie and took note of the numbers of sleek, newly completed light raiding craft. Enhanced with stealth technology and pin point trans-warp gates, they would play a leading role in the conflict to come. The idea was to get close enough to an Empire battle ship and transport an assault team with explosives into the engine room and destroy the ship that way. Given that each of the X-S class cruisers carried sixteen thousand personnel it was imperative to destroy them en route.

“Things proceed admirably, Prime. I don’t see why you hesitate,” said Megatron clearly irritated.

“Given what the early reports coming from Springer and Blitzwing say, it seems given the Empire’s size that starting today or a month from now will make no difference,” Megatron began to speak but Prime continued.

“However I do agree that we need to act very soon. All this time waiting is only increasing the strain between us. But there is something I must confirm first though the Matrix. I was hasty last time and did not listen to all it had to say. This time I will go in with eyes wide open.”

“You are rarely wrong on such matters Prime, and that is the only reason I agreed to this. However if you insist on delaying any further we will go on ahead without you.”

“And get face blown off,” Grimlock mumbled. The rolling boil Grimlock had been on for months finally had a target. Oh, he agreed to some extent with Megatron (as much as he hated to admit) but he hated listening to Megatron’s disdainful speeches directed at any Autobot.

Megatron ignored him.

“You will have the action you desire as soon as this is done. I guarantee it. Grimlock, has Springer reported since we left Titan?”

“No, Springer not report since he said he going to land on one of developed worlds in sector four-seven-nine. Outermost part of Galaxy.”

“That’s new to me Prime,” Megatron exclaimed icily.

“I’m sure you’ve allowed Blitzwing to take similar liberties,” was Prime’s only response. He had asked Grimlock just then as he knew Grimlock would reveal Springer’s mission to snub the Decepticon leader. It was an appropriate time to remind Megatron the Autobots were not sitting idle.

Six months ago Springer had been instructed to reform the Autobots’ elite assault squad the Wreckers, to begin scouting the Empire’s borders. Though all the Autobots who had not gone to earth were experts at reconnaissance and guerilla fighting, Springer and the old Wrecker team had been the best. He knew Springer would pick the best unit and do exactly what was needed.

He had done just that. A week ago Springer had asked permission to investigate one of the Empire’s developed worlds and Prime determining the time right had agreed. They still awaited a report. But Prime was unworried, Springer would make no mistakes.

They walked in silence as they reached one of the fast transit strips which would take them to one of the shafts that led to Cybertron’s lower levels. He recalled the last time he had made the trip to Cybertron’s core. A special chamber there that had been said to resonate at the Matrix’s energy signature thus amplifying the bond between bearer and vessel. He had gone there shortly after the Second Generation had appeared in response to a great dread that was being sent to him by the Matrix. In his impatience for action, he ended the experiment upon discovering the secret of how the Second Generation had arisen. He was certain the Matrix would have gone on to tell how the continual dividing of the Second Generation had caused a second safety switch on the Transformers growth to be thrown: the Swarm. They had survived; barely.

He wasn’t about to take such a risk again. This time he would get answers to all of his questions. Somehow he would get the Matrix to reveal all of its secrets. ‘Primus kept us in ignorance of our true nature too long. It is time we knew everything. I just hope we can handle it.’

He looked over at Megatron as the lift accelerated downward into the heart of Cybertron’s living metal. He knew this inquiry would delve even more deeply into the origins of the Decepticons. ‘Indeed’, thought Prime as a band of light highlighted Megatron’s face , ‘How will the first Decepticon handle it.’

Springer, back to a half finished shuttle, braced himself for the next assault. He wondered yet again how he’d been so stupid. ‘Well this is an industrial world without a garrison and the Empire has no enemies capable of posing a threat. How was I supposed to know the local governor or whatever his title is, was going to make his inspection with a personal guard of two hundred crack troops?’ Fortunately they had been unwilling to level the industrial complex to get Springer and his Wreckers. So far.

‘I doubt the complex is their motivation. These Second Gens hardly seem the type to care about a set of buildings they could rebuild in a day or so,’ Springer pondered morosely.

‘They want us.’

Prime had reminded them of Grimlock’s capture early in the fight against Jhiaxus. This Liege Maximo he’d been told to watch out for had wanted Grimlock and his assault team alive.

‘“Don’t allow yourselves to be captured.” Can’t say I liked your expression as you said that Prime.’ No, his leader rarely looked that grave. Prime sensed something, something very bad at the end of that name. Springer wasn’t eager to find out what. When Prime talked about the Cybertronian Empire in general, he just sounded tired. ‘Heck, Prime has been fighting the Decepticons for ten times longer than I’ve been alive.’ But he had almost cringed at that title. ‘Heck the only thing that had disturbed Prime that much was Unicron.’ No, he most definitely did not wish to meet this Liege Maximo.

As he picked up the first approaches of the enemy on audio sensors honed from years of duck and cover fighting on Cybertron, Springer checked his ammunition, fingered the sword at his back and waited. They were coming from exactly the right direction. The Wreckers had made access into the building highly dangerous with proximity mines, and self propelled hunter-killer drones. There were only three “safe” ways into the building. They had picked exactly the one Springer had hoped they would. He ginned crookedly, “ ...three, two, one...” He mouthed one last word. “Boom!”

At that exact instant one of the other partially completed shuttles exploded in a fury of light and heat. Springer (true to his name) leap clear over his shuttle firing as soon as he saw the first of the shocked and disoriented grey and green Cybertronian troopers. Geysers of flaming engine plasma lit the scene as Springer and his Wreckers tore through the thirty or so surviving Cybertronians.

Broadside and Crosshairs, dropped from hiding places in the ceiling right into the centre of the Cybertronian line, felling half a dozen by the time they landed. The twins Sideswipe and Sun streaker cut in left and right, twin Lambroginis, firing as they dodged side to side though the debris. The towering form of Jetfire backed up by Punch fell on the Cybertronian rear rising from piles of irradiated debris that had blocked their sensors. The final ingredient in the ambush was the former Decepticon Carnivac. Carnivac, in his robotic wolf form rose up right in the midst of the melee from a service bay in the floor and immediately spread even more terror through the shattered Cybertronian ranks. In all of a minute the entire squad of fifty were a more or less equivalent mass of scrap metal.

“Alright team lets get the heck out of here before the other hundred show up.”

Jetfire transformed first, Sideswipe, Sun streaker, Carnivac and Punch piling into his cargobay. The rest transformed into their airborne modes and flew out the gaping hole the team had blown in the side of the factory building to rescue Springer and Punch ten minutes before.

“So how far to the gate transponder,” Springer radioed to one of his two lieutenants, Broadside.

“Ten kilometres.”

“Lets hurry people, that ship up there will soon be joined by more if I don’t miss my guess. We don’t want to let Hound and Skids have all the fun.”

They sped thought the thin frigid atmosphere of Talos Five towards the transponder that would direct each of the personal transwarp gates each team member possessed to the location of their stealth ship on the edge of the solar system.

“Right ahead Springer,” radioed Broadside.

Springer immediately brought up a map of this as yet undeveloped portion of the planet and noted several positions for ambush around the depression

“Level every ground feature higher than five metres in a five hundred metre radius around the transponder as we approach.”

The ground rumbled as missiles and beam weapons ripped away at the ground. The team circled until the dust settled.

“Drop in team, but stay alert. Broadside check the transponder for sabotage. I don’t fancy materializing into the middle of a hundred Second Gen assault troopers.”

“On it chief,” Broadside said as his feet impacted the hard cybertronium rich rock, the reason why this area had been left undeveloped. The metal was exceedingly rare everywhere but Cybertron. Why it should exist elsewhere was a puzzle but not one Springer cared about at that moment. ‘Perceptor would love this place,’ was all the thought he gave it as he scanned and scanned again. The Autobots’ chief scientist loved such puzzles.

“Ready.”

“Lets go.”

With that all eight Wreckers stepped though glowing gateways... and onto their waiting ship. With the last of them gone the transponder incinerated into a pile of white metallic ash that blew away into the first light of the Talosian dawn.

As they sped away from the Talos star system Springer went over the events of the last few days in his head. They had decided to fully test the capabilities of their prototype stealth ship which they had christened Impact after the original leader of the old Wrecker team. The ship had performed admirably on the borders of the Empire’s space and had approached several systems undetected to do low level scans. The acid test was to be an incursion deep into their territory to see if the intense militarization present on the outer rim of the Empire’s space was uniform throughout. It turned out not to be. An deep outer rim several star systems deep was fully garrisoned and swarming with warship patrols. Once past the rim the garrisons thinned and eventually were absent. They decided to investigate a seemingly underdeveloped (compared to the dozens of worlds turned into copies of the Transformers’ home planet) world on the outer area of the settled industrial section of the Empire.

The planet was half developed into a twin of Cybertron, but the other half proved to be hardly pristine. It appeared that the outer layer of the crust had been peeled off to reveal huge swathes of rock rich in Cybertronium. The metal could be synthesised, but the process was long and energy intensive. It occurred naturally few places other than Cybertron and usually in small amounts. Intercepted transmissions seemed to indicate that the Empire possessed a few such worlds which produced the metal of which all Transformers were composed. No one knew how the division process worked (probably a good thing given its side effects) but it was assumed that in some way extra material was needed. How else could one Transformer become two without a decrease in mass? Thus natural sources of Cybertronium would theoretically be crucial to the growth of the Second Generation.

So Springer had decided to investigate this planet himself. His colouring would allow him to pass at a glance as one of the uniformly green Second Generation Cybertronians. He took Punch along as back up. Punch possessed an alternate robot mode, Counterpunch: a Decepticon. As such he could pass as an older generation Cybertronian, all of whom were descended from Decepticons and wore Decepticon badges. With that Springer and Punch had landed on Talos Five in a small stealth shuttle, not wanting to risk any early warning system that might pick up a transwarp gate. They landed in one of the undeveloped areas and set out for an outlying industrial complex.

Scans showed that the developed portions had been expanded from an original twenty two percent of the planet’s surface to the current sixty one percent over a period of one thousand five hundred earth years. The developments went down two kilometres into the planet’s surface and tapped heat from the core for power. The planet had been mined down to the mantle and surface rock replaced with metal. A world totally subverted to a single will.

Springer and Punch decided to infiltrate a shuttle manufacturing plant two hundred kilometres from where they landed, just inside the outer ring of mining facilities and refineries. Most of the workers were mindless automatons but there were several Transformer overseers that were clearly not meant for military duty.

Things had been going fine until Punch as Counterpunch had decided to take apart one of the droid workers. The problem with Punch’s alternate robot mode was that it had its own complete Decepticon personality, that Punch in the past hadn’t been completely in control of. As a deep cover spy this had been extremely useful as the Counterpunch personality was totally unaware that it was really Punch. During the interval between the defeat of the Decepticons after the battle with Unicron and Bludgeon’s attack on earth the Counterpunch personality had been reprogrammed so as to be controllable for Punch. Unfortunately, as the recent conflict had not called for Punch’s spy skills this had not been tested. Counterpunch’s innate aggressiveness combined with Punch’s tendency to pry, had lead to the dismantling of the droid. Punch taking over and transforming back into himself realised what he had done. One of the overseers came to investigate and raised the alarm. Communications silence had not allowed them to be aware of their bad luck in the form of the governor’s inspection.

The overseers weren’t totally defenceless and had put up enough of a fight to delay Springer and Punch’s escape. The last overseer had gloated over the fact that a detachment of fifty crack troops from the just arrived governor’s personal guard would be upon them in minutes. Fortunately Sideswipe had been monitoring the system and he and Broadside led the rescue mission cutting through the Cybertronian detachment as it launched its attack on the factory.

‘Well despite all of that we got what we came for. Just have to get out of the Empire’s territory and radio Prime,’ thought Springer, not quite content; his carelessness had alerted the Empire of the Autobot capabilities. They’d never be able to do that again. No, not happy but he could allow himself to relax, a little.

“Uh, Springer,” Punch turned around at his post to face Springer, “You aren’t going to like this.”

“What is it Punch?” Springer was still annoyed with Punch.... well more himself. He never should have put Punch untested in that position.

“I’d better put it up on the screen.”

The spy had a very good reputation, but he should have checked him out more thoroughly. Prime had warned him that despite appearances to the contrary, Punch was jumpy and exceedingly paranoid. The Autobot commander was more confident in Punch after he took some much needed maintenance and therapy but he warned that Punch might need some watching. But after a year of inaction, Springer had rushed things. ‘Well live with it. At least we know the inner territories are governed by a different type of officer than a Liege Centurio, Liege Praetorio I believe Sideswipe said....’

“By Primus!”

On the screen was a giant spacecraft, entering the Talos system. Its sleek lines and scorpion tail projection above the main hull were unmistakable, its black hull plating notwithstanding. It was identical to Jhiaxus’ flagship Twilight. ‘There is no way that’s for us.’

“Sideswipe what was that ship’s trajectory before it headed into Talos?”

“Checking ion trail.... Straight towards the Sol system.”

“Earth....”

Chapter Three

Major Gabriel Robson fruitlessly tried to halt the shivers of terror that he feared would give away his position to the monster that had torn his world apart. It had come at 0500 hours. He had been at his post, monitoring the aspect of the Project that was under his supervision. The current phase of testing was almost over. He had been exhausted, only able to snatch a few of the last seventy two hours for sleep. Then came the tremendous explosion.

He raced outside.

The whole communications array was just clean gone, though with very little damage to the structure it had rested upon. No, the explosion had not come from there, it had come from the armoury; the shell of which was burning intensely. Its incandescent light revealed a sight even more sobering. The entire barracks for the complex had been reduced to a large carbon stain that smouldered and steamed in the subarctic night. As he tried to find a surviving member of the base’s defence force he saw it for the fist time.

It was huge, it must of been well over thirty feet tall and had moved like lightning. He had blinked at his first sight of the reason for his job. A Transformer. He had tried to think rationally. It was a Decepticon for certain, but not one like any in the records. He also noted for the first time the enormous amount of damage on the thing. It had attacked in silence without the shouts of contempt its kind usually hurled while attacking fleshlings. ‘Probably saving power, given the shape its in,’ he mistakenly had supposed. He then radioed to the prototype hanger, a misplaced grin on his face. ‘This thing is why we’re here, to find ways never to be beholden to them again,’ he had thought as he had the teams in the hangers activate the unmanned assault tanks. The Decepticon had spared the high tech labs on the base in its lust for materials. ‘Big mistake,’ he had smugly told himself. The Decepticon had turned as the first of the tanks approached. Then it spoke for the first time. Its booming voice turning Major Robson’s spine to ice in the process.

“Fools! Do you think your toys can match the might of Galvatron!” It had said with a twisted grin on his face. The robot was amused! “I have use for their components though, so I do not wish to break them. Unfortunately I have no need for any of you.”

The last word hadn’t a chance to hang in the air as it had then fired with his arm weapon at the control building, pinpointing exactly where the two human technicians were. The tanks halted and would give no aid as the Decepticon began to level all non technical areas of the complex. As he did so he had laughed, a laugh whose sheer insanity had frightened Robson even more than the robot’s words. It paused a moment and then the beam from its weapon changed and became less intense and it began targeting individuals driven out of the buildings. These became human torches for brief instants before they collapsed, blackened skeletons which turned to dust as they hit the ground.

He had run blindly, a stream of drool from his mouth opened in a silent scream causing the wet spot that was now on his shirt. He had fled into the lab where minutes before his team had been about to finish their last round of tests on the computer systems for the stage two plasma cannons to be fitted to the tanks. Several technicians huddled in terror, curled up against the technology that they hoped would keep this building from being a target. They were wrong.

The room exploded as he entered the door. He had been buried alive, leaving him where he was now. ‘Oh God, I’m not even really a soldier, I’m a bureaucrat. I just joined special ops for advancement.’

What Major Robson had missed in his flight was the sight of the Decepticon holding his head, shaking slightly, momentarily stopping the slaughter. That is until it became perfectly still, face immobile except for a new even more icy glint to its optical sensors. He had missed the sight of it firing into the building Robson just entered as it freed itself of the madness that had momentarily caused it to degenerate into a orgy of mindless killing. Galvatron had work to do, humans were mere annoyances here.

The killing thing, become Galvatron once more completed the precision, highly efficient attack that he had planned before slipping away into the red haze again.

So while Robson shivered in terror, little did he know that those of his fellow humans who remained were exterminated with not even the dignity given to insects. He had no idea he was the last one. Or that movement did not matter so much as the heat his body gave off. A giant hand shifted away the debris, Robson’s last security blanket. The last thing Robson heard as the hand came down again was, “Can’t have any of you running off and telling anyone I’m here. You fleshlings are so messy. A pity for both of us that I am out of charge for my weapon....”

Drakos, Liege Centurio stood opposite Firestorm, Liege Praetorio, on the landing pad at the planetary governor’s headquarters. He hadn’t been summoned as both offices though from two different branches of the Empire’s structure were approximately equal. In the early days the Centurios were generals under the command of the Liege Praetorios. However as the Empire expanded that office had become more and more administrative and the Centurios became fewer in number becoming Liege Centurios, the leaders of the Empire’s conquests. So these two very different representatives of the Empire’s authority now stood wondering what the other was about. Twilight class ships were rarely seen in the inner areas of the Empire and assaults on inner worlds just didn’t happen. The last rebellion in the Empire was nearly forty thousand years in the past, fermented by the last cells of independently thinking Decepticons in the uniformity of the Cybertronian machine.

“Greetings Drakos, your passing by has been most timely.”

“Indeed, I can hardly recall the last time we had trouble with rebels.”

The two halves of the Empire, administrative/industrial and military were largely segregated so news of the discovery of Autobots and first generation Decepticons was not known to Firestorm. Not even the whole military had been informed. This was of course mandated largely by the loss of the seventeen battalions. Such things did not happen...

“....total loss of all drones and supervisors in recently constructed shuttle factory one five four eight. No reason for that particular target could be found, but then rebels were never rational,” Firestorm finished as the two Lieges approached a private building.

“Indeed, the last ones rose despite having no chance for victory. The old Decepticon spirit has value but only if channelled. The success of the Empire has proven that. Vastly superior than anything accomplished in those futile years on the home world. Though you would know wouldn’t you,” Drakos added as the entourage reached the door of the command quarters.

“Leave us commander,” said Firestorm to the officer in charge of his personal guard, with some annoyance. Drakos had been insinuating a fact that Firestorm had kept quiet for a long time. He was one of the original Decepticons whose exodus from Cybertron was the beginning of the Cybertronian Empire. Most of the latest generation of Cybertronians regarded the few remaining original Decepticons as dangerous anachronisms. Even many as far back as Drakos’ generation held similar views. Firestorm’s carefully developed personality left most simply assuming he was one of the first few generations after the exodus.

“Yes sir,” replied the officer, who in his greens and silver looked so much like any of his peers. The guard took up positions around the structure as their superiors entered.

“That was hardly necessary. Despite your age I suppose you are one of those who think my kind should be scraped.”

“Not particularly. Your record is exemplary. You were one of the heroes who crushed the last rebellion if I’m not mistaken. Infiltrated it didn’t you?”

“Yes. Fools the lot of them.”

“Fools, yes. But not you, one of the only originals of such rank, other than the Liege Legatios,” added Drakos in a light drawl.

“Enough banter. I know an Autobrand when I see one Drakos. That rebel scrap was for their benefit. Just what is going on. I haven’t heard a word of the great Jhiaxus’ progress in months, and here you are with a Twilight class ship heading into Jhiaxus’ sector. A sector, if my calculations are correct, in which Cybertron should be by this time.”

“Again you impress me old one. Given your experience you might actually prove useful to my mission.”

Firestorm’s appearance to anyone familiar with Transformers of his type would have told everything. He was of the same general design as Starscream, Thundercraker and Skywarp. However where their designs had been altered into Earthen jet fighters (F-15s) Firestorm had retained his original Cybertronian form more or less. Years of service to the Empire had resulted in numerous upgrades and redesigns, yet he still very strongly resembled his long separated brethren. His white, grey and green colouring was in keeping with the millions of the newer nearly identical Cybertronians who made up the majority of the Empire. But his design though altered declared his advanced age in the Empire.

“Good. I can see you are not totally cold blooded, too many of even your generation have forgotten what it is to be Decepticon. Most will even curse that name as anathema, if they even remember it.”

“I take it you too were well acquainted with Jhiaxus?”

“Our warrior god made a point of declaring to any of us who even know what Decepticon means, the superiority of our new ways. I take it he’s rusting, full of Autobot blaster holes.”

“Not exactly. The Autobots and the survivors of the Decepticons we left behind have allied to fight us.”

“What scum is leading that lot now? I knew they’d rot away but not that badly. Even that would-be tyrant Straxus wouldn’t deal.”

“It is Megatron who leads again. And allied with Optimus Prime no less,” Drakos replied flatly. Such names were mere facts to him. He had known neither legend.

“Your information cannot be correct,” responded a sceptical Firestorm.

“I have with me the only survivor of seventeen battalions, Rook, Jhiaxus’ strategics officer.”

“Political officer you mean,” Firestorm said with contempt. Strategics officers reported directly to the Liege Maximo. They were of the most recent generations of Cybertronians, totally devoted to the well being of the Empire. ‘Soulless things who would have been ground to dust in the old Decepticon army.’

“Well whatever you call him, he saw Prime in person and attested to a remade and incredibly resilient Megatron. They also managed to turn one of Megatron’s lieutenants -”

“Starscream. I see by your expression I’m not mistaken. Well Starscream as a traitor is not surprising, he always chafed under Megatron’s rule.” he paused a moment. “But this alliance makes no sense.” He paused for a second and frowned, “Megatron would never accept a subordinate position in the Empire.... I take it Jhiaxus used his typical tact.”

“That too, but our Decepticon ancestors attacked first.”

‘Hmm have we changed so much that our founder no longer considers us Decepticons?’ “I’d be very cautious Centurio. If Prime and Megatron have returned and are allied.... Two more brilliant military minds never existed. They fought each other to a standstill before they vanished, together they would be exceedingly dangerous and unpredictable. But still... seventeen battalions so quickly?”

“An unknown matter-energy phenomenon accounted for a majority of the casualties. However it was the Alliance that merited a whole Galactic sector’s forces to be concentrated at one planet. Prior to the final confrontation the Autobots managed to destroy seven outposts and the combined forces wiped out half a battalion in a single engagement. In the final battle, despite being put to flight, this alliance destroyed two battalions despite being betrayed and caught unawares. As much as I despised Jhiaxus, he was capable. His soldiers were veteran and his conquest of this galaxy far ahead of schedule. Such results are disturbing to say the least,” Drakos said with more than just a little vehemence.

“Yes, most likely he would have been the fist new Liege Legatio in over one hundred thousand years. The paragon of Cybertronian efficiency,” added Firestorm with distaste.

“Well not by the end. Contact with our ancestors fried his circuits. He was spitting lubricant in fits of rage by the end. That was the reason Rook scurried home to the Hub, his report has Jhiaxus going insane,” responded Drakos with venom.

“Not insanity, rather call it true nature. Jhiaxus was more of a sadist then even that fool Straxus we left behind. And if he wasn’t Megatron’s equal in brutality he came close. I remember the early campaigns very well. Though I see you still have a Decepticon soul, even you will never love destruction as Jhiaxus once did.”

“You might be surprised ancient one. I suppose the fact that I have more in common with these ancestors than most was the reason I have been sent. However I do not have your first hand experience. Tell me of these Autobots....”

The Impact glided invisibly, unpowered towards the Darkmaiden. Onboard in the dull glow of emergency lights, Springer reviewed the outline of the assault one final time.

“... we hit main engineering and the three generator rooms. If this were an X-S class cruiser our job would be easy, but like Twilight, this ship has three power cores. We will destroy main engineering and in the resulting power drop we place shielded explosives in each of the three generator rooms before the power is rerouted and the ship’s security systems reengage. The explosives are triggered to explode as soon as the sensors in each register that all Autobot signatures have left the ship.”

Springer nodded to Broadside, the only other survivor of the old Wreckers. “This’ll be close in work in an unfamiliar vessel. Sideswipe and I were there when we broke out of Twilight. Stay close to us until we split into our separate teams. Hound, Crosshairs, you’re with me.”

Sideswipe spoke next, “Sunstreaker and Skids with me.”

“And Carnivac, Punch and Jetfire you’re in my team. We’ll take the main generator. It’s closest to engineering so we have less chance of getting lost. They adapted quickly to our guerilla tactics last time around so we had better be prepared. That’s why you’re with me Jetfire. If the generators are locked down we’ll need your size to break through. The rest of you, if your generator is locked down you come directly to the main generator and fall on any resistence that will have found its way to us by then. At the very least if we want them crippled for any time the main generator has to go. Right then lets hit it people! Wreck and Rule!”

“Wreck and Rule!”

Rook again stood silently on Darkmaiden’s bridge. Again he pondered these older generation Cybertronians. This time Drakos stood on the surface in closed quarters with the Liege Praetorio for the sector: an original Decepticon from the Empire’s founding days. Even Jhiaxus, as old as he was, was not of First Generation stock. With the advent of this conflict he wondered at the loyalty of those of kind in the Empire. All would remember Megatron, and many still foolishly believed him to be the founder of the Empire. ‘He was an instrument as all of us are. The Liege Maximo picked his chosen well, as to be expected.’ That brought up another troublesome thought. The Liege Maximo still wanted live specimens, Megatron and Optimus Prime in particular! He could understand to a degree Megatron’s value, material of that calibre should not be casually wasted. But Prime? ‘Oh well perhaps I shall never know......’

At that moment the whole ship lurched. “Power levels dropping,” announced a member of the bridge crew flatly

“Massive hull breech in engineering section. Main engine room,” reported another.

“Rerouting power.”

‘Just as before, only we have no prisoners this time...’ Rook thought mildly as he barked an order. “Seal off generators. Send all security to engineering section and surround all generators.”

Everyone on board knew exactly what would happen if even one of the generators was detonated. Shielding would limit damage from an exploding plasma core to the vaporization of one sixth of the ship. If all three were detonated any of the Twilight class ships would break into two sections for a brief instant before shockwaves unconstrained by shields would turn them into a cloud of sub-atomic dust. It had never happened but that’s what the projections said. The Autobot guerilla assaults and their escape from Twilight had made this sort of attack a high possibility. Though the Empire possessed near infinite numbers they were vulnerable in transport. Today would show how well prepared they were.

“Rerouting taking longer than anticipated, sir.”

“Explain.”

“Somehow the explosion radiated though a number of conduits. We can’t rush power through those that remain without overload.”

“Shut down all external weapons and all nonessential systems. Maintain shields at all costs,” ordered Rook cooly in response. ‘Our ancestors surprise us again. There can be no doubt as to the nature of the attack below.’ Rook made a quick note of this in his ever compiling report banks and waited for the power to come back up.

“Release special forces from barrack quarters, send directly to engineering... As well as one unit here,” added Rook after a quick thought.

‘They maybe of no threat to the Empire as a whole but unlike Jhiaxus, I do believe they can pose a risk to my personal well being...’

Broadside cursed as yet another Cybertronian sacrificed himself to the combined fire of the three Autobots. It had been much more difficult than anticipated to reach generator room three. Whoever was coordinating the defence efforts was mighty capable. He had a bad feeling in his inducers.

These latest pin prick assaults were a good deal lighter than the resistence during the escape from Twilight. ‘Probably saving forces up to ambush us at...’

“Down boys!” The veteran yelled as he saw the dozen or so Cybertronians burst out at the intersection just past the generator room ahead. The curve they had just raced around opened to reveal one more intersection of corridors just ahead of the generator room.

Broadside knew a trap when he saw one. The three of them could probably take on that dozen but a quick high intensity scan showed he was right. Though hampered by all the power sources, he could pick up the faint Cybertronian signatures down both sides of the intersection.

“Ugh!” He grunted as he took a blast full on while distracted by the concentration required by the scan. He fell back but flipped up ad kept firing.

“You okay Broadside?” asked Hound between dodging photon blasts in the enclosed space.

“Fine. That rheanimium gas does wonders. Now hows about using those fancy sensors of yours and finding us the safest route back to Springer and generator one!”

“Right!”

“Visual sensors down!”

With that Broadside pulled out one of the plasma grenades and with a quick glance over to Crosshairs he launched it towards the intersection. While in flight Crosshairs, true to form, hit it dead on. The searing blast aside from the considerable damage it caused sent out a flash that overloaded the optical sensors of any Transformer in sight. So while the Cybertronian troopers tried to target without the benefit of sight, the unimpaired Autobots were hustling back the way they came; Broadside in the lead with Hound right beside and Crosshairs covering the rear.

‘I sure hope Sideswipe had more luck...’

“... damn you Sunstreaker get back here!” Sideswipe shouted at his twin as the yellow Autobot leapt out past the corner the three of them had been using as cover. Sun streaker then leapt head on into the seething mass of Cybertronians that blocked their way back to Springer’s team.

‘And we’re twins?’ “Oh well, lets pull his tail out of another one Skids.” He said with a grin.

With that the two Autobots leapt into the fray. Sunstreaker was already chest deep in Cybertronians and about to be overwhelmed. “To the rescue!” shouted Sideswipe as he and Skids dodged left and right waiting until they were with in metres of their enemies before opening fire. The opposition quite literally melted away. Though taking fire from those Cybertronians in the back, the now reunited trio held up.

“What took you so long?” shouted Sunstreaker as he ran a Cybertronian’s head though a power conduit.

“Just the usual delay when I have to decide if you’re worth rescuing yet again,” answered Sideswipe calmly as he unsheathed his energo sword. Fighting alongside Grimlock had shown him the value of the weapon. Combined with the strength and rapid-fire action which the arms of his robot mode were capable, Sideswipe was nearly unstoppable in close combat. But so too was his twin. Competing as always, with the calmer Skids dealing with any who escaped their focussed fury, the brutal fight was also a short one. In moments the hall way was scattered with a wealth of Transformer parts: none of them Autobot.

“One of these days...”

“I know, you’ll leave me,” sneered Sun streaker mockingly.

“Ugh!”

“Uh guys, I hear more behind us,” said Skids uneasily.

“Lets go. And stick together this time.”

“We’ll make better time if we transform,” said Sunstreaker as they headed off.

“Skids won’t be able to keep up.”

“Sure I will if one of you two’s willing to scuff up your paint jobs. Though I’ll say that not much more can be done to yours.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up and get on.” grumbled Sunstreaker transforming in mid stride.

‘Never thought I’d see him do that. He used to guard his paint almost as carefully as Tracks.’ “You know that Rheanimium doesn’t guarantee invincibility.” The Decepticons had “acquired” large quantities of this gas which rendered metals super dense. It proved useful in combatting the Swarm, by filling the molecular gaps that allowed the entity to break the metal down into its component atoms. It also made any Transformer treated with it highly resistant to all forms of damage.

“Since when did you become Mr. responsible. You were in old Ratchet’s shop more than anybody. How many speeches about recklessness did you get from Prime?”

“What can I say, I grew up. Besides I’ve got responsibilities now.”

“I just think that shiny new body’s gone to your head.”

“Jealous?”

“Never!”

“Springer’s dead ahead and so’s a whole bunch of trouble,” interposed Skids

“Well then turn it up brother and lets get to it.”

“A little less melodrama this time please.”

“Oh you’re no fun and too slow. Yeehaw!” cried Sunstreaker as he moved to pass Sideswipe on the wall of the corridor.

Skids hanging on for dear life thought momentarily, ‘Why did I say yes to Springer? “We need a scientist. You’re a Survivor, you deserve to be a Wrecker too.”’ He had joined the unlikely team of Springer, Broadside, Inferno and the two ex-Decepticons Carnivac and Catilla in the aftermath of the Time Wars. Joining the Wreckers had seemed like a good idea a the time, since he wouldn’t get to see Earth for a long time, he could at least get out and explore something else...

“Next turn, whoa!”

“Ours first Skids.”

“Showoff!”

“How much longer?” shouted Springer at the labouring Jetfire.

“This door is solid neutronium, it doesn’t have much give,” grunted Jetfire as he continued to batter the sealed door that was finally showing signs of give.

“Uhn!” Springer dodged a loose blast before continuing. “Any luck on that lock or the dispersion field, Punch?”

“Five codes each, chief. I’ll get there, eventually.”

Springer turned to see one Cybertronian break though the perimeter Broadside, Hound, Crosshairs and Carnivac had around the two working on the door. In an instant he flicked out his long sword through the air neatly cutting the green and silver Transformer in two. He frowned in distaste as he considered the mind set that kept the enemy uselessly throwing their lives away. He needed more time.

“A little help Springer, if you’re not too busy,” yelled Carnivac.

“Wha–” Springer swung his head around to see the corridor on the right filled with Cybertronians pouring down in a suicidal rush. Several fell under Carnivac and Sureshot’s barrage but the majority made it through.

‘We’re finished...’

Springer’s thought was cut off by a familiar cry, “Triple bonus points for the boy in yellow!” Sunstreaker in race car mode, with Skids hanging on for dear life, flew through the Cybertronian mass dismembering several of the green and silver Transformers. An instant later, several of the survivors who had not even the time to register surprise, were cut down by Sideswipe’s fire another instant before his blue flash crashed through their ranks. Sliding sideways he transformed right beside Springer. Sunstreaker and Skids were already up and firing.

Springer, used to this, simply raised his sword and blaster and cried, “WRECK AND RULE!” and leapt into the fray.

In a wickedly short time the corridor on both sides of the generator room door was clear.

“Good work team, now lets get this door open!”

“Skids you still happen to carry that super cooled nitrogen on you?” asked Hound scanning the door.

“Yup unlike some of you guys I haven’t altered my specs.”

“Get on it,” ordered Springer.

“Think you can give me a hand when he’s done?” asked Jetfire of Sideswipe.

“Don’t I always.”

It went like clock work. Skids’ nitrogen jets cooled the door to the a point where its super dense metal was as brittle as ordinary steel. Jetfire’s strength and Sideswipe’s rapid fire pile driver fists quickly broke through the two metre thick door. The explosives were laid, a Cybertronian assault repelled and in three minutes the last Wrecker stepped through a transwarp gate onto the Impact.

A Cybertronian soldier stared in horror as the automatic fuse of the bomb switched over. The generator room and the surrounding decks were for an instant converted into a miniature sun which winked out leaving nothing in its place. Remaining shields localized the blast but a good quarter of the Darkmaiden simply no longer existed.

The crew of the Impact recorded all of this before setting a course out of the Empire’s territory to a point where they could send a message.

THEY ARE COMING

Chapter Four

When the sun rose over the silent tundra his work was done. Whole finally – at least in body. The human technology was not quite up to the level of his Earth, yet the humans of this timeline had advanced further by this date than they had in his universe. ‘These scurrying prying creatures might actually come to something someday...’ he thought as he rose from the asphalt on which he had spent the last few hours. He laughed as he stood upright, “If I let them.”

Galvatron neatly disconnected the power cables that connected him to the underground nuclear plant. Still a primitive fission design but from the data banks he’d downloaded he knew that at least this faction among the humans had nearly cracked nuclear fusion. The design, like many elements of the automated tanks he had dismantled and used to effect repairs, featured several unmistakable Cybertronian design cues. ‘Prime wouldn’t be happy about that if he knew. He was always so careful about making sure this pathetic world was not altered. No doubt this Optimus is the same.’

Some of the innovations made by the humans had actually been useful and he had incorporated them accordingly. He had then proceeded to tap the power plant and drain it dry. One of the greatest benefits of the form Unicron had given him was its capacity for energy storage. Though he no longer had access to Unicron’s limitless energy, he knew he could process and make better use of energy than any member of his race. Though Galvatron rarely thought of himself as having much in common with his fellow Transformers, Decepticon or Autobot. He was a flawless jewel, the epitome of universal evolution, flawed only by who he once was. Megatron.

That was his next task. He had faced the Megatron of this universe and almost destroyed him for the madness caused by the part of him that was Megatron. He had stopped partly out of the implications of destroying himself, even though that Megatron would never become him. But he had also stopped in hopes that in understanding Megatron he could finally purge the madness that still threatened to destroy him.

He stared in distaste at the black scorch marks that had been human once and considered the waste and the despicable primitiveness that had lead him to actually enjoy killing those insects. He then looked at his left hand almost expecting to see remanets of that last quivering sack of flesh. ‘At least I dealt with that last one properly.’

An intensive self diagnostic confirmed the sense of wholeness that pervaded his senses as the last drop of power from the reactor infused his circuits. He was himself again. Galvatron.

Reviewing the information that now streamed into his brain though an untraceable link that had once been the base’s quasi-legal connection to the planet’s satellite network, Galvatron decided upon his next destination.

He began walking away from the charnel house he had created but gave no thought to. As he left grounds of the base that had once belonged to a nameless United States government agency, the machines designed to destroy his kind came on line and began their watch. Yes he would keep this place. For now. He would have to see what its sister sites held for him.

He would be careful this time, no mistakes. He would be ready for his enemies and they would come to their doom. In time the whole Universe would fear the name of Galvatron.

This time he did not laugh, he just smiled and continued walking one step at a time towards his destiny.

In the dim light of the plasma torches, the shadowy confines of the chamber closed in on the small party. Megatron visibly chafed. No, this place did not suit the Decepticon leader. Soundwave stood neutral as always with Grimlock looking about as unhappy as Megatron. No that wasn’t quite true, Grimlock found this foolish, Megatron found it uncomfortable. And Kup, well, Kup was Kup. Were he human Prime was sure he’d be humming one of their songs as he did a duty he wasn’t fond of but too disciplined to verbalize a complaint. About the only time he had voiced his displeasure was in that horrible time leading up to the battle with Unicron, but everyone’s tempers had been frayed at that point.

Prime sighed inwardly, he knew he was trying to distract himself as the ancient guardians (priests? technicians?) of this even more ancient place prepared him for the experience to come. He knew some of what would come but this time it would be different. It simply had to be. He had to know it all. He had fumbled in the dark for too long. Traditions called Primus the Lord of Light. His experience had led him to consider such a title somewhat beyond the being to whom it was applied to. However, despite his flaws, Primus’ vision remained worthy: his race must made worthy once more.

“Any messages from Springer?” he asked Grimlock.

“No.”

“Are you sure you wish to leave me in this position Prime?” asked Megatron darkly.

“Yes.”

Megatron just nodded singly and minutely with an expression Prime could not read. However Prime did not get a chance to ponder the meaning of Megatron’s expression.

“It is ready Optimus Prime.”

He nodded towards the shrouded figure who had addressed him.

“Then I too am ready.”

“The changes you commanded have been made. We do not know what they will do.”

‘Neither do I,’ he thought pondering once more the strange knowledge that he so recently had come into to possession of. However he had long since stopped questioning such things and merely did what the Matrix told him.

“It must be done.”

“How long it take,” asked Grimlock.

“I don’t know.”

Grimlock just nodded and eyed Megatron. Who returned the look with a smallest of predatory smiles before speaking.

“I cannot say that this is wise Prime, but at least let us get this over with.”

“Agreed..” Prime inclined his head towards the guardian beside him.

“Don’t get lost in there Prime,” added Kup just as the edges of his vision faded into shadow. Yet he focussed on the dull glow of Megatron’s optics hoping to find an answer to what lurked within their crimson vista. The darkness fell swiftly and he was suddenly all alone. He wondered what had happened this time. But it was only for an instant for as the moment passed his eyes were opened, and there was light...

“Tell me when he awakes, I trust you’re capable of that,” said Megatron briskly to Grimlock as he turned to leave the chamber.

“You leaving?” replied Grimlock incredulously.

“There are more import tasks that await my attention than watching Prime engage in one of his follies,” snarled the Decepticon leader. However the slight clenching and unclenching of his fist betrayed his high tone. “Soundwave will remain and report to me when Prime awakes.”

He turned once more and walked steadily down the corridor that lead to the transport shaft. Grimlock snorted and hurried to follow.

“Kup, you stay, let me know when Prime wake up,” he snapped as he left the chamber. ‘Dumb ‘Con, he think he better than me. Me be damned if I let him wander around down here. May be alliance but this holy place. Autobot responsibility.’ Grimlock didn’t quite know what he meant by holy place but he did know what happened last time Decepticons had run amuck down here. It had been Bludgeon’s stray shot that had woken Primus and had brought Unicron down on their heads. He was partially responsible for that and he was sure not going to let anything happen again.

“Oh how quaint, you’ve come to babysit me. I suppose it would be too much for you to trust me when I say I know far more of these areas than you,” sneered Megatron as Grimlock caught up to him.

“No.”

“How surprising. I spent quite a lot of time before the war exploring these nether regions and studying the ancient records.”

“So you want to make conquest legitimate. Even human tyrants do that,” replied Grimlock mockingly.

“You know nothing of it.”

After that they walked on in silence until they reached the lift and were well on their way to the surface. ‘Why Prime leave me here with him. Me no diplomat. I should be out there like Springer. Should have Dinobots.’ He almost winced at that last thought. The Dinobots would never be whole again. Slag had been killed by the Swarm like so many others. ‘Prime say it now force for good, for life, but it not bring back Slag or any others. Just him.’

“You quiet,” Grimlock said finally as they neared the surface, “What, did I come to close to truth?”

Megatron just smiled icily and said nothing. Grimlock resisted the urge to say something more, as he was sure that’s what Megatron wanted.

The whoosh of the transport tube slowed and grew silent. Grimlock was glad for that, though he’d never admit it, Megatron was getting to him. ‘New Megatron even more dangerous than old one. That one make careless mistakes, this one maybe make tactical error once but after that, never.’ There was less bluster to Megatron now, and a good deal more subtlety. Where Megatron had previously brandished his power in frequent displays of brutality and intimidation, Grimlock had a feeling the Megatron of the present no longer had to do that. This new Megatron radiated power. Besides, there were those mysterious abilities he had exhibited during the battle with Jhiaxus, some of which Grimlock had sampled personally. ‘Yes I keep Megatron in sight. Though fact that he always underestimate me going to make it much easier.’ Grimlock lifted his head and looked over as Megatron walked off towards the transport strips, ‘Yes, Megatron going to wish he had made that muzzle.’

Grimlock followed Megatron, not hurrying this time. They didn’t say a word until they reached the joint command building fifty kilometres form the spaceport..

“I see you’ve managed to finish in my absence. I trust the command systems have been installed?” Megatron asked flatly.

“Yes, just need power from the five new stations. First stage of defences complete, second stage done by time power plants go online.”

Megatron just nodded. Grimlock tried not to twitch as Megatron ignored him again. Instead he took note of the party that was ready to greet them as they came off of the strips.

Perceptor stood with Blaster to one side of the bridge that lead to the base, while Rumble and Motormaster stood well separated from the two Autobots on the other side.

Perceptor spoke first.

“Grimlock, we just received a report from Springer after you left for the lower levels. Greetings Megatron,” Perceptor added tonelessly as he finished.

“And...”

“We have trouble. While escaping from a firefight on one of the inner systems they came across a starship that is obviously of the same class as the Twilight. It was originally on a direct course for Earth. Fortunately scans of the sector did not show any ships that appeared to be making ready to join it.

“Only one ship?”

“Yes. However I suggest we don’t play this down. Springer didn’t think so either. The Wreckers launched an assault and managed to destroy the ship’s main generator. The explosion destroyed approximately twenty three point two percent of the ship, yet they will be able to repair that soon,” finished Perceptor grimly.

“That’s twenty thousand storm troopers and one heck of a lot of firepower headed our way,” added Blaster.

“But much less than we had counted on. This can’t be anything more than a reconnaissance mission.” Megatron spoke with absolute certainty and Grimlock agreed with him as much as he would have liked to discount the observation. Rumble did that for him.

“With twenty thousand troops and a flagship? You’ve got to be kidding me. Erm I mean it seems uh, excessive um Megatron,” finished Rumble nervously.

“Stup...” ‘Must keep temper.’ “We used to different scale. What twenty thousand when you have millions? No Megatron right. They want to know what happened. We embarrass them,” refuted Grimlock immediately.

“It also makes sense. They can ascertain the total cost of the most efficient campaign to eradicate us. It would be consistent with the behaviour we have seen with regards to the Empire’s colonization efforts. From the records we were able to pull from several of the partially conquered worlds we were able to liberate, it seems they project the total outlay for each conquest down to the last decimal point,” added Perceptor.

“They think to place us into an economic equation,” commented Megatron with venomous distaste. “I do believe we must prepare to teach them otherwise,” finished Megatron as he walked forward past the four greeters towards the main entrance.

“Oh, I trust you had something else to say Rumble.”

The small Decepticon hurried to follow his leader (Grimlock had anticipated Megatron’s sudden move and was still beside him) as he made his report.

“Sixshot has returned on Blitzwing’s behalf and wishes to report to you.”

“Did he tell you what he had to report?”

“More or less,” replied Rumble uncomfortably.

“Then tell me,” ordered Megatron sharply.

“Well, he says he has the complete design specifications for the X-S class cruisers...”

“There is more I take it or are you just having trouble with you vocal circuitry?”

“No Megatron. It’s just that...” he added quietly coming level with his commander looking back at Perceptor and Blaster following Grimlock. Blaster just grinned and waved at the small black and red Decepticon.

Megatron kept walking, actually increasing his pace, leaving Rumble to catch up.

“We have an alliance or have you forgotten?”

“No Megatron... Sixshot wishes also to report Blitzwing’s incompetence,” Rumble finished with certainty for the first time. Grimlock had maintained his pace and had not even looked at Rumble during the whole farcical exchange. He was enjoying this immensely.

“He is to come to the main command room immediately. We will be there shortly and I expect him there when we arrive.”

Rumble, relieved the pressure was off him now allowed a small amount of glee to enter his voice. “I’ll tell him right away,” he replied heading off down the next corridor.

“Now Motormaster what have you to report,” Megatron asked, not bothering to look behind him where the tall grey Stunticon commander had remained, silently following behind his leader.

“The power plants for Warworld’s II and III are online. The shield generators for both ships should be online within the day and weapons systems fully installed by the end of the week.”

“Excellent. Find Hun-grr and both of you report to the command room.”

“Yes Lord Megatron,” replied Motormaster as he turned to depart. When he had left Megatron turned to Grimlock.

“Gestalt’s always overvalue themselves. They think they aren’t expendable.”

“Razorclaw learn that,” replied Grimlock smugly.

Megatron only smiled a smile of icy satisfaction and continued walking.

‘Why me even bother?’

Chapter Five

The endless field of light resolved into the brilliance of a plasma fire, burning in fierce whiteness only centimetres from his face. Optimus rose quickly and backed away from the intense heat of a hellish fissure in the floor of what was the bombed out shell of a once great structure. Taking a closer inventory of his surroundings Optimus Prime was able to identify this place as a central power station of one of the smaller city states that had once existed in clusters across the surface of Cybertron.

A shot streaked out from an unseen source which Optimus only just barely avoided. As he rolled to the opposite side of the blaze from the direction of the shot, his sense of where this was came to near certainty as he finally took note of the weapon tightly held in his right hand.

It was an old type four laser rifle. He hadn’t held any kind of laser rifle since his first “death” on earth. ‘I haven’t held this one in... no, Primus not this day.’ This laser rifle had pushed a young medic who had known only the dubious fame of the state games into the upper ranks of the young Autobot army. Optimus Prime, who never missed, not by a metre, a foot or even a millimetre, no matter the range. Only the name that was made wasn’t Optimus Prime, ‘Almost forgotten I have had any other. Another life time... I’ve certainly had enough, more than my due.’

He didn’t need to do an internal diagnostic to tell who he was in this world that the Matrix vision had resurrected. Superficially his proportions were similar to those of the form he awoke in on earth in 1984, just slightly smaller, less powerful and without the Matrix. ‘Orion Pax...’

All of this took only moments because he knew what he had to do, what he had done the first time. The then Orion had through his reflexes narrowly dodged the Decepticon sniper’s shot which ignited a chance live plasma conduit in the floor.

He had lain there stunned and had gotten up only to take cover again just as he had in this vision. However this time he knew where the sniper was and he had the motivation of the knowledge of how little time he had. Changing the visible spectrum in his optic sensors, Optimus, using memory and the angle of the last shot, targeted the sniper through the flames and fired.

Two hundred metres away under an overpass leading away from the power station the would be assassin fell from his perch as Prime’s shot lanced through his optic sensor and on through to his brain module.

Optimus, not even bothering to observe this, launched immediately into a full out sprint in the direction of the station’s power transfer module. ‘Seconds saved over last time. It has to be enough. Has to.’ This was the day, the day.

Orion Pax and his hand picked team had set down in the ruins of Xarius’ power station after a near fatal fire fight with a large detachment of Decepticons. The station was easily defensible against a full scale assault. It seemed the safest place to hold up with Sentinel Prime until reinforcements could be sent to pull them out. It had been Sentinel who had insisted on going out into the front lines to raise morale among the scatted refugee soldiers whose guerilla units made up the majority of the terrifyingly thin outer rim of the Autobot lines. Iacon’s soldiers were largely on home defence, only sending out crack teams such as the one lead by Orion Pax. He could not have known that the Decepticon unit had shepherded them to this location that was ringed with the best sniper team Megatron could assemble.

Megatron wanted Sentinel dead partially to crush the lifting Autobot morale, but mostly to gain the secret of the Matrix. With the Matrix, his swelling army would be invincible. That any such action would likely kill Orion Pax was an added bonus. Since the Underbase incident which made the young lieutenant a hero to all the remaining free cities of Cybertron, Orion had been a marked mechanoid.

So when he had killed the sniper on the overpass Orion Pax had thought nothing of it. Optimus Prime knew that sniper had drawn him off of his inspection of the station so that the others would have clear shots at the aged Sentinel Prime. So he ran instead of pausing to wonder over the foolish waste of that Decepticon’s life as he had as Orion Pax.

Ten other would be heros had died trying to kill him before, so Orion had condemned the waste of this Decepticon’s life, thinking that sniper to be like the others. It was precious moments before he realised the attack did make no sense, if it were only after him. His servo’s had gone cold as he knew that there had to be more, that others knew nothing of the existence of any snipers as this one had attacked after he was out of the range of his compatriots audio sensors. He had cursed the sixth sense that had saved him so many times before but had betrayed him that day. Only then had he run: futilely.

Where Orion Pax had entered the Xarius power station, Optimus Prime had walked out. Walked out to the sounds of the Deception unit launching an attack on the power station. However, where they had expected a largely decimated and demoralised Autobot unit, instead they faced for the first time a warrior Prime, newly filled with Matrix energy and fired with rage. Optimus alone knew the terrible strength of his temper and it had only escaped his command but a handful of times since that fateful day. Twenty seven Decepticons attacked and twenty seven fell to the new Prime and the five survivors of his unit.

However this time he had to make it. For some reason the Matrix had decided to give him the opportunity, however slim, to ask his forebearer the questions he needed to have answered. ‘So little time,’ Prime thought as he rounded the last bend, “The Matrix has never made things eas....’

The last thought was cut off by the sound of screams coming from the archway that had just presented itself up ahead. ‘Oh Primus not again...’

Optimus raced on, the last few steps to the transfer module and walked into hell for a second time.

Galvatron looked out over the silent vista of his efforts. The humans had actually put up a decent fight this time. It had taken him nearly five minutes to exterminate the last of the surface resistence.

The first three bases had been in close proximity so they had not even time to be suspicious of the silence from the smoking ruins of the base on the tundra. This the fourth, which appeared to be the central location, was much further south in the western United States. They had realised their danger, though that had aided them not.

Mightiest nation in the world! Their most advanced facilities had crumbled like rotten paper before him. ‘Though I suppose the good citizens would be interested in the rather illegal activities of their democracy,’ Galvatron sneered as he carefully cut his way into the large freight elevator shaft, that according to the diagnostics led down to the main portion of this facility.

Numerous genetic experiments had been underway in the second facility, and he doubted that the subjects had all volunteered. ‘A study in hypocrisy these creatures. If they weren’t so pathetically limited in their faculties they might actually be of interest.’ Galvatron filed that thought away, together with those genetic experiments. ‘Yes, of interest indeed.’

Examining the shaft, Galvatron vaporised the car and dropped down into the darkness, firing his canon to slow his decent. Coming to a stop several hundred metres down, Galvatron was pleased to see large doors eleven metres tall. ‘How nice of them; a front door I can walk through.’

Galvatron proceeded to break it down. As he stepped through the twisted wreckage of three feet of case hardened steel, the first blast hit him. Or rather by his standards he had stepped into slightly brighter patch of light. He laughed at the feeble attempt of the base’s defence systems, until the second stage of the beam hit. That one he noticed. He actually had to brace himself, and noted with some amusement that the weapon was actually managing to raise the temperature of his armour plating. The walls of the tunnel glowed red and the air super heated while Galvatron unconcerned, scanned past the significant interference the beam was creating.

‘Well, well they’re giving it everything they have. Had they been facing any other they might actually have a chance of success,’ mused Galvatron prosaically. ‘Oh well mustn’t let them waste all that energy, not when I have use for it.’

With that he transformed into his tracked laser cannon mode and laid waste the entire end of the corridor. Transforming calmly, he strode down the blackened expanse of the three hundred metre long corridor. To the glowing wreckage of the weapon he did not give the slightest thought other than that he’d have to obtain the schematics of it to see if the humans had managed to incorporate something useful in its design. He passed through the molten mass of the doors the weapon had guarded similarly without thought. Scanning the expanse of the underground structure, he came up with forty seven human life signs. Most were off in the smaller side rooms that extended out from the long tubular central area. This was divided into three large chambers and there were some very interesting readings coming from the third of those.

However before he continued his inspection, Galvatron decided to solve his pest problem, ‘Don’t want them making a nuisance of them selves.’

From a storage compartment in his thigh he removed a small, innocuous looking weapon. It was in fact a chemical dispenser he had fashioned to deliver a rather nasty neuro-toxin, that had been developed as a byproduct of the activities of the second base. ‘Waste not...’ mused Galvatron as he scanned for an entry point into the air ducts. Having found one he strode over, punched out the grate with his finger and emptied the contents of the weapon into the ventilation system. A few minutes later the last of the blips on his life sign monitor went silent forever. ‘A much more efficient method by far.’

He then proceeded to locate a computer terminal and download the contents of the base’s mainframe. It was all very similar to the first base, just more or less in the form of large artillery pieces. Of slightly greater interest were some computer viruses that were nearing completion. These were far more advanced and complicated than he imagined the humans capable of. One or two possessed some very intricate and potentially devastating structures. ‘A pity I eliminated them all. Though it would have been too difficult to round them up.’

However what truly caught his attention was what the manifest said was located in the third chamber. ‘Well, well they certainly have outdone themselves.’ Reviewing the data once more and cross-referencing with the specifications of the technology present in the other facilities. ‘Yes, this explains a lot.’

Galvatron activated the doors to the second chamber and swiftly passed though it.. The technology there was somewhat more advanced than that present at the other bases but he ignored it completely, instead heading directly to the third chamber.

As he took note of the extensive developments spread throughout the dark confines of the vast (by human standards) room Galvatron exclaimed, “My, my, they have been busy!”

Hooked up to various devices were the components of a Transformer. That it was only one, he knew from the manifest. “Specimen A-1,” He sneered slightly as he took note of the object at the pinnacle of the central acropolis of computers.

He slowly strode forward into the slight glow of the silent screens and over hanging work lights. Of no note did he take of the dozen or so bodies slumped over their consoles, faces bloated and blue, skin fissured with erupted blood vessels.

Instead he removed the low, wide hexagonal box of specimen A-1's head from it’s support structures and looked straight into its now extinguished yellow eye.

“Hello Shockwave...”

Drakos, Liege Centurio, commander of the Empire’s elite was bored. That was the trouble with being superior to those around you. You were finished with your responsibilities and the dozen or so personal initiatives that put you ten steps ahead of them in the time it took them to be half done. So he waited while his ship neared completion and mused over his final decision.

He had not raged when Rook’s communication came through. He did not punch through a console when the Darkmaiden erupted in flaming plasma. Drakos still possessed the range of violent emotions that were his Decepticon heritage, but he was their master and they not his.

He had underestimated these Autobots and had gotten a bloody nose for it. Fair enough. ‘I have made Jhiaxus’ error. Once!’ It angered him but he had come away with something. His precautions had been somewhat successful. Darkmaiden though crippled still orbited Talos Five and four days later the reconstruction work was almost complete. He knew he could trust Rook in a crunch situation. Inspired he was not but unlike many strategics officers he was supremely competent in areas beyond those for which he was created. He would bear watching.

But more important was the fact the Autobots had shown their hand. They had some sort of stealth technology which the Empire had not previously encountered. He immediately set several teams searching the sensor logs for any kind of anomaly; line by line. Drakos directed his rage into his work and had plowed though it non stop up to this moment.

He had ordered any surviving surveillance logs of the assault team sent to him. It wasn’t much so he delved deeper. There were no survivors of any of those who had engaged the Autobot force on Darkmaiden nor on the planet, yet at least there were remains of those who had died on Talos. He had expected Firestorm to object when he demanded the bodies of the fallen be tapped for any data that had survived in their memory cores, yet it had not come. He had forgotten, ‘Firestorm is without sentiment of any kind. How else do you infiltrate a movement made up of those you’ve known for dozens of millennia and not bat an optic as the extermination squads vaporise them at your order.’ What Drakos had also neglected momentarily was Firestorms attitude towards his soldiers.

Cybertronians of more recent generations considered ancients like Firestorm to be dangerous barbarians. However Drakos doubted they wondered what the ancients though of them. ‘They’re less than cannon fodder to him. He might as well be leading a droid army for the amount of thought he gives to one of their lives.’ He smiled at that mind set. It mirrored his own very closely.

So the data such as it was, was retrieved. Again not very much but he added it to the mosaic he was constructing. at the same time he reviewed the progress and tactics of both Autobot assaults from Rook’s report and the report the commander of Firestorm’s bodyguards was able to provide. He surveyed the desolated factory, poured though the chronicles of Cybertronian history and spent hours sequestered with Firestorm and Rook picking out details.

Now he was finished. He had all of his pieces and he was beginning to see where they fit. The unfortunate aspect of these assaults was that there were no Decepticons involved. Of the Autobots he now had a measure, a sense. He had to rely on others for his information on his ancestors: Firestorm, Rook and a garbled report from the shipping yards on Seridas Six. Yes he would be taking the old one with him. There was no doubt about what would be Firestorm’s decision.

He was calm now, his work for the moment complete. He would shut down for the remaining hours before departure. He always had such moments of clarity after doing so. It surprised him that more did not do so. He supposed it was arrogance. It reminded them of the periods of ‘sleep’ which most organic lifeforms required. ‘Ego. Our greatest weakness...’ he paused a moment as he began to power down, ‘...and our only one...’

Chapter Six

Sixshot, though not what anyone would call nervous, could not be said to be assured of his position as he approached the doors of the command room. He paused for the briefest of moments before stepping up into the eye of the sensor that would open either to success or, well, there just wasn’t anything else. ‘I have never been afraid to risk, anything. So long as there was a reasonable margin of success.’ Of course it was different when you were stepping up into Megatron’s field of view.

Since his creation as the first of the six-changers ten thousand years ago, Sixshot had been stepping up through the Decepticon ranks with a care equal only to the decisiveness which was his hallmark. A perfectly balanced weapon was what he had been dubbed upon his creation, and balance was what his entire existence had been founded in. He had vowed never to be a being of extremes, except extreme competence.

While the other young Decepticons had sought glory, and died for it in the majority, Sixshot trained and prepared. He took the dirtiest jobs and stayed out of his superiors’ sights. That is until he wanted to be seen. That was his greatest pride. For a Transformer of such tremendous abilities (with six transformation modes he was army unto himself) he was a warrior of the shadows.

In the instant that passed between the sensor recognising him and the impulse that opened the doors, Sixshot recalled all that had led up to this moment. A fitting thing to do for if he had miscalculated it could be one of his last.

During most of the years of Straxus’ rule on Cybertron, he had been almost an unknown to both sides. His enemies knew something hunted them or rather several somethings. It was a long time before the scattered bands of Autobots in Mertaxus sector realised that they faced not six foes but one.

However by then it was too late. Sixshot had put together a small commando team of like minded warriors and in one short series of devastatingly quick strikes, he had swept the sector clean. A small relatively unimportant sector but he had done what only a select few had: from top to bottom there was not one Autobot to be found. He sent his second in command to Polyhex to make his report and to ask for another sector assignment. However before command would give him a new assignment they demanded confirmation of such as grandiose claim. So they sent one of their experts: Blitzwing.

Created a full generation before the six-changers, Blitzwing, Octane, Astrotrain and the other triple-changers were the rising stars of the Decepticon army. With their increased abilities they were joining and eventually leading the crack units of Autobot exterminators. These teams swept across Cybertron performing search and destroy missions and uprooting Autobot resistence cells.

Flashy, loud, arrogant, Blitzwing was hardly the Transformer to deal with one such as Sixshot. He sneered at Sixshot’s accomplishment, his methods and his abilities. ‘But I didn’t react as he expected. Did I rage, declare vendetta?’ Sixshot had nodded and asked for a new task and the privilege of studying under the master. Blitzwing sneered all the more at Sixshot’s acquiescence but accepted.

Blitzwing took him to a sector he had almost finished clearing, boasting of how much more quickly it had been done. While Blitzwing cleaned up and made ready to move on, Sixshot thoroughly explored the burned out ruins and decided to stay on and guard the sector as a precaution. Blitzwing laughed and pulled out the rest of his team, thinking it all a fine joke.

Sixshot did nothing for several cycles until in one swift stroke he dug up seventeen Autobot guerillas, including one high ranking officer with links all the way to Emirate Xaaron. He gave the lion’s share of credit to Blitzwing and enjoyed watching the rage boil under the beige and purple Decepticon’s hide. But it came to nothing as Blitzwing soon convinced himself that it really had been him that had been responsible. Again Sixshot had made the wise move. No fatal enemy had he made yet those who truly mattered in the command structure would realise who had been responsible. ‘Follow the chain of command and it will reward you.’

Sixshot had been correct. Soon after, he and his team were placed in Covert Operations where they stayed until Straxus’ demise. By that time Sixshot was second in command of Covert Ops and had grown used to an increasingly free rein in the steadily slackening Decepticon army. In the chaos after the death of Straxus, he remained separate from the various leadership struggles and did his job.

Once again he had made the wise decision. After the brief reigns of several fools, a council of high ranking Decepticons, sick of the futility of the recent years, began a process to appoint a leader. They chose the commander of Covert Ops: Thunderwing.

Not being particularly close to his commander, Sixshot did not expect great advancement but was pleased when he was given charge of Covert Operations. The new Decepticon leader may not have been overly fond of Sixshot but he knew who was best for the job.

With his new position Sixshot often found himself in the company of the leader of the Mayhem Attack squad, Bludgeon. They had fought back to back in a number of co-operative operations with the Mayhems and the two saw eye to eye on a number of things. Though not a student of Metalliko as Bludgeon was, Sixshot won the warrior-mystic’s respect with his fighting skills and was one of the few with whom Bludgeon shared any of the secrets of the form. Needless to say, Sixshot had no issues when Bludgeon became Decepticon leader in the aftermath of the Unicron War.

During the long wanderings in interstellar space after the defeat on Klo, it had been Sixshot and his team who once more took on the dirtiest missions. Sixshot’s warriors had spearheaded the assault that had taken the ship that would form the shell of the Warworld. He and Bludgeon fought side by side, wading through pools of fleshling vital fluids all the way to the bridge. Those fleshlings had actually been a challenge, unlike the rest of the “conquests” of that time. Sixshot quickly grew sick of slaughtering the weak.

After a time he spoke to Bludgeon of his desire for worthier tasks. So as their return approached Bludgeon sent Sixshot ahead of him to scout out Cybertron in preparation for the overall campaign that would have followed the death of Optimus Prime.

But of course that had never happened. In the midst of trying to traverse the almost alien contours of the reborn Cybertron, he had heard of Megatron’s return and knew that his compatriot must be dead. He hurried his way to Earth and returned in anonymity.

That this was possible was due to Bludgeon’s canny wisdom. Bludgeon knew his friend’s greatest strength lay in his obscurity. Both were feared and respected in the Decepticon army, but the head of Covert Ops was a mystery. Only the highest ranking Decepticons had had any degree of serious contact with Sixshot. They knew all too well that Bludgeon’s back was watched by one of the deadliest killers they had ever created. If Bludgeon’s unnatural intuition and legendary skill were not enough to keep the powerful in line, the presence of Sixshot was.

Most in the ranks knew nothing of Sixshot aside from a chilling, fragmented reputation and the blackened, broken corpses of the enemy he and his teams left behind. In fact, given that Sixshot and Bludgeon never spoke, even in battle, most thought them rivals if not enemies. No one made any connection between the two, that is until they decided to mention their dissatisfaction with Bludgeon’s rule.

Though he ruled by popular consent, Bludgeon knew this by no means meant he was loved by all. So, when a whisperer opened his mouth he would find his shadow more solid than usual. A half-seen glare from the ruby orbs of the tall Decepticon six-changer was usually enough to still the passage of wasteful vocal impulses. Those few who were either blind or did not believe the rumours would find themselves victims of “unexpected resistence”. Though most of the common soldiers never made a connection they could not help but notice the poorly concealed fear their less contented brothers showed when the head of Covert Ops made one of his rare appearances. It was that whiff of fear which had caught Megatron’s attention.

And so in a double turn of irony he found himself placed in the latest Mayhem attack squad under Blitzwing’s command. He had pondered over Megatron’s uncanny decision more and more with time. As he studied Megaton he came to see there was a lot more to the ancient tyrant than most had said. That was what worried him. But the moment had stretched on far too long and he snapped himself back into reality. The doors opened to find the command room empty. He would have to wait.

Violated. He had been violated. Again and again.

They had kept him in the dark, cut off from the world. With the carelessness that was hallmark of their race, they hardwired his brain into their vile, primitive machines.

The voices came again and again, demanding answers to their childish questions. They saw him only as a computer. He had been called that before but not by these things, these humans. However, their connections could not get everything.

Humans.... He had allowed others to have their foolish enjoyment in hunting the pathetic creatures. Standing by he had seen Megatron try to make use of them. How had they not seen that they simply did not matter?

But that was before. They had stepped far beyond their bounds. He knew it was illogical but he would make them suffer... Or would that be letting them take away yet another thing from him?

He had spent the eternity of darkness, each new invasion and every flash of rage, with these musings. He still did not know...

However the worst part was the dreams. It was always of him. It would be the last few moments aboard the Ark before the crash. The demon he had seen destroyed, come for him again.

It would be the first time, the knowing it was coming for him and that there was nothing he could do.

He was almost glad for the dark.

Almost, but that too terrified him. Twice before he had been cast into darkness, twice before he had been cast into the black abyss, imprisoned, helpless.

Such thoughts chafed. Such fears were illogical. There was always a way to survive. Yet how had he come back? That was the true source of that fear. Despite his best efforts, the deepest logical analyses, the voice would whisper: he cannot be stopped...

But he had begun to fight back. Blocking their inroads into sensitive areas and leading them into useless circling of his motor control regions, he had distracted them and found a way past their pathetic security measures and burst into their system. Oh it was childishly simple; the sheer primitiveness of system and its inefficiencies had slowed him far more than the actual ‘security’ measures. He moved slowly, creating programs to wrap their tendrils transparently until it would be too late even if they were found.

So he waited, attempting to reclaim himself, mind and body. Hating and loving the darkness. A darkness that ended before he was ready...

He hadn’t been there in time to hear the screams in the real course of events. However well before he passed out of the mouth of the corridor in one last red, blue and white blur of speed, Optimus knew whose cries they were. Even after all this time he had not forgotten Reroute and Cloudcaster’s voices. Where he had only found their bodies before, here the Matrix showed their decimated forms falling listlessly to the ground, smoke billowing from mouths and optics. Droplets of molten metal fell in time with these ghosts of his long dead friends. Their flaming vital fluids lighting each metallic splash on the cold pavement.

He had to ignore it, had to continue on towards his goal in the centre of the room. Every fibre of his being was focussed on the ancient orange and yellow figure nervously guarded by the dull blue and silver form of Teradyne.

He knew where his enemy lay. He ran and choked a silent scream as once again he caught the first glow of charged protons at the mouth of the drooping conduit that hung listing from the roof. He was so much closer, only steps away but he did not fire for he knew it was too late.

Blue flame once again erupted from the conduit just as Teradyne began to mouth his name. The only difference was that this time he was foot falls away instead of back in the corridor. Therefore he was forced to watch in detail as Teradyne’s head exploded in white flame before he could complete “Orion.”

Once more the beam sliced through his compatriot’s brain module and continued on through Sentinel Prime’s thorax. There, he knew it had severed all connections to the aged Matrix Bearer’s power core. He would fade in minutes, his long watch over.

Nervelessly, as he had before, Optimus killed the sniper in the conduit and the other two who had been trained on the room from opposite ends of the devastated security building across the plaza.

He knelt, hollowed once again, desperately trying to cast aside these demons the Matrix had resurrected. He knelt and held up the predecessor he had known for only a few weeks and forced his mind clear to make use of the little time the Matrix had given him.

Sentinel looked into Optimus’ eyes and smiled. “You finally made it.”

Still drained Optimus could only weakly breath one word, “Why.....?”

“All this?” Sentinel cast his gaze around the room and down to his melted chassis, “The Matrix protects itself, even from us.”

“But why, why all this?”

“Sorrow and suffering the Matrix knows well. In fact no being knows more. What better tool to wield? Through your eyes and mine it has watched every act of our race’s grand tragedy. It has heard the death rattles of Tarn and Vos as they were burned from the surface of our world. It saw the fall of the survivors into the darkness and paint the face of death on their souls. It has seen our world set aflame, its skies darkened and it’s once gleaming surface cast from light into the outer darkness. Through every spark of Transformer life that returns to it, it has felt every kind of death imaginable...”

“And it carries the shadow of its own corruption,” Added Optimus sombrely. “Only now do I understand... What could we expect when all we had given it....”

“Don’t blame yourself my boy. Primus made too many assumptions, glossed over far too many variables. In many ways he had no idea what he had created.... in us or the Matrix.”

“I know...”

“You showed him, or rather what’s left of him in here. You showed him...”

“But what does it protect? Sentinel!”

“Yes I suppose we should get to it, it hasn’t given me much time, not much time...” The image of the ancient Prime turned its fading optics inward. But before Optimus could lay his predecessor down Sentinel’s eyes blazed alight. The words came haltingly but with a strange force also.

“....knowledge, terrible knowledge. The others died of it, pulled inwards, pulled here by it... They protected me. The Matrix protects itself from this knowledge and us... The others closed the door... I tried to find the key... No Bearer has had the strength... to face it... I hoped you would be the one... I still hope...”

Optimus took this in silence. Deep down he knew the truth of these words. It was something he had always felt yet had never actually been aware of. He had assumed it had been a part of the bond. No one had taught him otherwise...

“Primus only gave the first of us the true knowledge of the Matrix....”

Optimus waited but he soon realized Sentinel was slipping away from him rapidly. However as Sentinel slid away, Optimus felt a new realization dawning...

“No you can’t!”

‘I was only a stepping stone to give you the separation from our past necessary to make you ready, you will know what I learned.... I came so close... Now I will bring you to where I was... A stepping stone must be trod upon to be of use my boy and I know you would never do so of your own accord.......’

Sentinel’s last thoughts echoed in Optimus’ mind not even traversing the vision’s air. The watcher was slipping away... but not back into the Matrix.

‘One name, one forgotten name... the first of us... there was only to be one Bearer... we were not meant... none but... The First... Pri...’

“..mon...?” Optimus finished. ‘Prima was first...?’

This thought was cut short as Sentinel’s form darkened and went slack. Finally he was certain of what his horrible suspicion of the sensation of the last moments had been. Sentinel had almost hidden it from him. ‘He knew I would fight it’ He thought sadly. The watcher’s memories had seamlessly melded into his own, yet strangely did not become his own.

As Optimus’ hands slipped through the fading form of Sentinel Prime’s body he was certain.... The Matrix had shrunk by one.

‘Gone...’ A new facet, a new piece of code seemed to have been added to his personality matrix. That was now all that was left of his forebearer. The bond he had felt almost all his life was severed. As the scene blanched from view he knew that the impossible was true.

Sentinel was gone...

To Be Continued