Transformers Prime Season 3
Episode 4/56: The Alliance Part 1

A/N: ah, episode 4 at last. I get to use some real OCs. anywho, I don't want to take up too much time, so, review responses:

agent S is the best: well, uh, Dinobot wasn't ever a member of the Dinobots, he'd just be a Predacon. And I wouldn't call him Dinobot, because he'd be a dragon, not a raptor. I'd call him Dynobot or something. I'll think about it.

Coopster (guest): Thanks. I'm trying to emulate the actual show, so... As for the homophone mix-ups and such, I think I've fixed them in the reposts. Maybe not though. 50/50.

Kyuubi-Titan: Unfortunately, if you look at the "preview" chapter, no Predacons will be loyal to Megatron. Also, I can't use Waspinator without making him comedy relief, which won't work with the semi-apocalyptic feel that this is supposed to have. The fire-ant has promise though.
Never seen ole yeller, but I guess the idea is there. The pet dies. Hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter too.

Coppa-Cola: can't figure it out. But I created a tumblr account under the same name as this fanfiction account where I posted them.

Rafaelplusmikey: No, no zombie. think about the origin story I gave them.

Just to wrap this up, whenever I need a character that isn't going to be used more than once but needs a name, I'm going to use the name of one of my followers. So keep a look out because you never know if I might use yours.

1

A lot of U.S. citizens found it strange that in peace-time the military had set up a base outside of a small town in Nevada.

At least, they would if they knew.

Despite being the main employer in and around the town of Jasper, the USAF base had been kept largely quiet from the outside world. One of SOCCENT's only operations within the mainland United States, it was comprised of the usual assortment of quonset huts and tarmac with various vehicles interspersed. Off to the side, a large airfield held the base's sole control tower as well as several hangars containing classified military aircraft, such as the brand new Sky Striker. The base had a long, complicated name on the ground and maps.

From the air, it was simply known as Dreamwave.

Those select few technicians chosen to run Dreamwave Control were the best, dedicated to protecting the States with their lives if necessary. They had survived the rigorous physical training required by the Air Force's elite Unit E, gone through years of specialized classes, been on secret missions in every hostile country known. They were ready for anything.

Major Elhini Uzumaki had served two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan before coming here. At only 26, he was undoubtably the youngest member of the Control team. He was also the most decorated, the highest scored on every test, the highest ranking officer, and, most important to his friends, the one with the best stories. Elhini had them all on the edges of their seats in the mess hall.

Two and half years ago, he'd graduated from the proving grounds of Unit E and been shipped to Jasper. At first, Elhini had wondered why he was being stationed in the middle of nowhere, rather than the front lines. He'd come to understand that Unit E wasn't just a single squad of troops. There were circles within circles, and the best of the Unit dealt with the most classified material. At only level 3 security clearance, he knew he wasn't yet aware of the whole operation.

He'd started out at level five like all new recruits. On arrival, General Bryce had informed him he was to remain in his base quarters until he could be briefed on all level five material. Four days later, a large, angry African American man in a suit had thrown open the door and demanded Elhini come with him. The man had identified himself as FBI Special Agent William Fowler, a former member of Unit E and designated liason to those stationed in Jasper. Elhini had wondered, liason for who? Who did Fowler have to talk to for Unit E?

The man had proceeded to inform him that Jasper was the sight of numerous incidences that could not be explained. Each incident was reported, documentized, and sealed away in the Agency. Elhini's duties, in addition to those of a Control technician, would be to shunt all reports he recieved, or filed, to Agent Fowler. Only after Elhini had gone on record saying that he agreed was he allowed to leave, though he didn't think anything would come of it. It was the next day, on his way to his off base house for a long weekend, that the freeway had lit up with laser fire. Since then, Elhini had handed over a report to Fowler just about every other week. Mysterious explosions, vehicles without drivers, unauthorized flyovers by bogies of an unknown make... The list went on and on.

Last month, things had gotten real. That was when Elhini had recieved the extra two levels of clearance. First, a massive energy surge had wiped out the bases electronics. Agent Fowler and General Bryce had coordinated the evacuation of Jasper. Elhini had been selected to help. He'd seen a massive energy beam of some sort in the desert. Then, there had been an earthquake that flattened Hangers A through C. A short while later, Agent Fowler had radioed in for air support, but they couldn't get any birds in the air. After a few minutes, Fowler showed up at base, his helicopter a wreck, and stepped out with a civilian woman in nurse's scrubs. Elhini had noticed metal shrapnel embedded in the chopper, that didn't appear to be any element or alloy he'd ever heard of.

Within an hour, the airspace over Jasper had been sealed for a fifty mile radius, and all satellite imaging of the area had been restricted. According to Fowler, only himself, General Bryce, and Elhini had the command code to access the real time footage.

All of this was running though the Major's head as his worst nightmare came true.

"Dreamwave Control to unidentified aircraft. You have entered restricted zone G-1000. Walk ident and procede east out of the Area."

When the technician who had hailed the bogey recieved no answer over the radio, he motioned Elhini over. The Major couldn't quite believe this was happening. Who would be stupid enough to fly straight into a USAF Restricted Airspace? "What is it?" he asked as he leaned over the technician's shoulder.

"Bogey on radar, minimal cross-signiature suggests it's stealth, no radio response," the man replied quickly, waving at the screen. The tiny blip was moving steadily into the bright orange secion labeled 'restricted'. It was already about ten miles in. Elhini made a quick decision, the kind that would either save the day or lead to disaster.

"Scramble a Sky Striker and get eyes on that bird."

The tech nodded and tapped in the necessary codes. A few moments later, one of the classified jets flew off after the bogey. It was capable of reaching speeds in excess of Mach 5 in seconds. They'd have a report from the pilot in minutes.

Long, tense minutes that made Elhini feel like his blood pressure was going up about ten points a second. He and the tech watched on their tiny screen as the distance between the two radar signiatures closed. Finally, the pilot's voice crackled over the radio. "This is Red Fox to Dreamwave Control, do you copy?" Fox was the best pilot on base. Not to mention the only female pilot.

"This is Control," Elhini said, assuming authority. "We copy. See if you can't get an ID for the bogey."

"Roger Control," she said. They watched on radar as the Sky Striker overtook the bogey, shooting forward, then turning in a tight circle to pace it. "Control, I've got eyes on the bogey." Fox's voice sounded less sure than it had a moment ago. "It uh... it has no ID. Not that I can see." Elhini's eyes widened. That was impossible. No airplane would ever leave a manufacturer without an ID, even if it was illegally made. It just wasn't possible.

They heard a high-pitched squeal come over the radio, loud enough to hurt their ears and turn some heads. What the hell? Elhini thought, alarmed.

"Uh, control? I'm gonna head back towards base. Something's wrong with my altimeter. Probably just a wire loose. Don't worry." Fox sounded worried. She never sounded worried. Elhini saw the Sky Striker's radar blip angle towards the edge of the restricted area. He wanted to tell Fox to shoot down the damn bogey; it was the only way to ensure nothing else went wrong. But he knew that if there was something wrong with Fox's plane, it was essential they get her back to base quickly.

Suddenly. the radio squealed again, louder, so much so that Elhini clasped his hands over his ears to try and stop the pain. It hurt worse than anything he'd ever felt- trying to breath with a collapsed lung and a bullet in his shoulder had hurt less.

Just as quickly, the noise stopped. Elhini stood up from where he'd been hunched over. He ran a hand by his nose and was surprised to see blood streaks- the sound might actually have caused brain damage. Then he heard the radio crackle.

"Control, this is Fox, do you read me? Somethings wrong; the whole plane's malfunctioning! My instruments are going haywire, the controls won't respond!"

Elhini grabbed the mike so tightly his knuckles were white. "Eject, Fox! Get out of there now!"

He heard grunts and clicking noises as she yanked on the emergency lever. "It's stuck or something!" Fox shouted. "It won't open!" Elhini listened as she tugged a few more times, then started pounding on the plane hatch. When nothing happened, she began to scream.

Elhini gripped the edge of the tech's station. Fox's scream seemed to go on forever, until it was replaced by static. He looked at the technician and saw his own shock and grief reflect on the man's face. He felt like puking. He'd witnessed death before. This was different. There was nothing that could be done about a bullet that splattered your squad leader's brains on the opposite wall. Half the time you could never see where the shot came from. But a plane has a long way to fall. A long way for the pilot trapped inside to see death coming. And be unable to do anything about it.

The Major closed his eyes and took a ragged breath. He gulped and took another, and another, until he was inhaling and exhaling steadily. Finally, he said to the technician, "Bring up the satellite imaging of Area G-1000." The man still looked shocked, harkening to images of World War I soldiers coming back from the trenches, but he started typing. Elhini went over to the master controls and brought up the technician's computer on every screen. The other's stopped and stared as a password promt appeared, peppered with warnings about unauthorized access. Slowly, Elhini tapped in a single word. "D-A-R-K-M-O-U-N-T," he muttered, hitting each letter. Another warning appeared, stating that everyone in the room as of that moment would be subjected to extensive debriefing processes. Elhini hesitated briefly, then pressed 'enter'.

Immediantly, metal shielding slammed down over all of the tower's windows and red emergency lights activated. The technicians, including Elhini, spun around, alarmed. Outside, the base's PA system blared out a prerecorded announcement: "This is Special Agent William Fowler. As of this minute, all personnel are required to return to their quarters and all aircraft are to remain grounded. I repeat, all personnel are to stay in their quarters and all aircraft are to remain on the ground." Slowly, Elhini got over the shock and turned back to the monitor.

And reeled. Darkmount indeed, he thought, staring at the shocking image onscreen. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. In the center of G-1000 was a massive, metal mountain. Floating beside it was what appeared to be a ship- but not one of Earth design. In fact, the whole scene looked... alien.

And the bogey was heading straight for it.

"My God," Elhini heard the technician exclaim. He looked over and saw another blip on the radar, seperating from the bogey. His mouth became dry. The bogey had launched a missile. As Elhini watched, the tech was typing furiously. A three-dimensional graph appeared, overlaying the satellite image. The center of the graph was spiking hard.

"That thing... it's nuclear," the tech whispered.

Elhini managed to swallow. God help them.

The alien citadel was visible from the cockpit of the bogey long before it came up on Dreamwave's screens. Fox had been too distracted to see it, but she could have.

It was huge.

If the restricted warnings surrounding area G-1000 hadn't kept pilots away, they would've flown like hell in the other direction once they saw the tower. It was an ominous black edifice of obsidian metal shards. Why the B-2 Stealth Bomber wasn't detered was anyone's guess, but it made straight for the fortress. The alien visage grew until it filled the horizon, blocking the desert from view. And still the plane flew on.

The bay doors in the bottom of the hull opened when it was three miles from the citadel. Metal panels slowly unfolded, and steel arms gently lowered the bomber's illegal payload into the atmosphere. Another mile slid by before the metal claws released their grips and dropped their weight. The nuclear bomb was pulled down by Earth's gravity, even as the stealth plane angled into an impossibly tight turn. One hundred eighty degrees later, it flew into the desert sky. The missile, meanwhile, ignited not fifty feet from where it had first exited the plane, a plume of fire propelling it with astonishing speed towards its target.

The alien fortress.

Long seconds passed by as the missile hurtled through the sky, its carrier speeding in the opposite direction with desperate hope to escape the blast radius. Long seconds in which, back in the Dreamwave control room, Elhini didn't dare breath as he watched the tiny blips on the radar screen. Long seconds in which, out in the desert, not one living thing made a sound, moved, or blinked.

The world held its breath.

On the radar screen, the tiny missile-blip disappeared into the mass of the darkmount. Elhini wondered if maybe something had gone wrong- or right, as it were. He quickly looked up at the satellite images... just in time to see the tower disappear in the glare of a massive explosion. The satellite camera shorted out from the intensity of the light. A heartbeat later, the entire base was rocked as the nuclear shockwave hit them, its force enough to have cracked the very earth.

In the desert, every living thing for miles around the tower was dead. The ground was split open, the brush scorched to ash smears, the rocks melted into slag. With the satellite no longer transmitting, there was no one to witness the mushroom cloud rising over the alien citadel...

Even as the top half of it toppled over and crashed into the blighted earth.

A/N: title sequence

No human had ever before seen the staging grounds atop New Kaon. Even so, the scene on this day would have seemed oddly familiar.

Starscream was, again, disciplining the inumerable Decepticon troops. Megatron watched from nearby; not from his throne, but rather an empty bit of platform between two spires. Shockwave and Soundwave hovered behind him. The latter recorded every word and sight for later use, as blackmail or explanation, whatever the situation required; the former was waiting for his liege to acknowledge him.

At last, the violet mecha's patience wore out, and he spoke in his harsh, gravelly voice. "Lord Megatron. I wish to appeal to you once again. I could clone an entire army -"

The Decepticon leader rounded on him, so quickly that the normally emotionless Shockwave actually stepped backwards. "So that the Autobots could attack us again, and further reduce our number?" he bellowed. "Or perhaps actually succeed in destroying this citadel?" When Shockwave put forth no answer, the Decepticon tyrant continued, "No, Shockwave. The only plans you will be carrying out, will be mine. I have had enough of your... logic," he added, turning back to watch Starscream and the vehicons. Wounded, the engineer stalked off into the shadows, heading for the sactuary of his laboratory.

Starscream took notice of Shockwave's hurt out of the corner of his optic and sneered. "Yes, that's right," he muttered to himself, "Go off and sulk why don't you." Leaving the phalanxes to march, the Seeker walked to Megatron's side. Gone was his sniveling, his weakness, his false bravado. He stood straight-backed and solid, like the leader that he never was. "Thank you, my Lord, for your most gracious opportunity. I promise you, I will not forget it soon."

"Disconnect your voicebox, Starscream, before I do it for you," he rumbled. "We both know that you will attempt to stab me in the back again, as soon as the timing is convenient."

"I promise you, master, I have no interest in taking your place. Just ask Soundwave. I told him."

"Yes," Megatron said, optics narrowed, "Right before you went rogue."

The Seeker's chest deflated about a half an inch. "Well... it seemed like a... good idea, at the time."

"I would advise you to not act on any further... ideas, Starscream."

The conversation ended then, an unusual experience for both, for it ended without violence or true anger. The mechas stood in silence for a time. The only sound was the steady tread of vehicon feet. Megatron felt a twinge in his own voicebox, a desire to end the silence, perhaps with harsh words, for he could deliver several to the Seeker on a whim. Strangely though, or stranger still, he felt compelled to, to... to praise the treacherous Decepticon, something he almost never did.

Megatron parted his lip plates in a gruesome expression. His teeth ground apart. Air hissed into his mouth and down his throat, over his voicebox, trying to form words. The first sound was leaving him when he heard the strangest noise from behind him.

Starscream had a hand on his helm, listening to his commlink. "What?" he exclaimed. With a quick sideways glance at Megatron, he replied to whomever was on the other end, "What do you mean something's comin-"

Ka-THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOM!

There was a bright flash, and then an enormous jolt as the citadel was shaken to its roots. Vehicons fell in heaps on the platform. Starscream was actually pitched over the side, and Megatron stumbled backwards to keep from landing on his skidplate. Something had hit the tower. Something big. The Decepticon leader turned to rally his troops against this attack, only to widen his optics as a tilting spire landed directly on top of him.

The air commander fell a short distance through the mid-morning sky before he activated his T-Cog. In a graceful somersault, he assumed the shape of an attack jet. Starscream's thrusters rocketed him into a tight upward helix around the tip of New Kaon, which his processors told him was leaning to one side. Alarmingly, the angle of its lean was increasing dramatically by nano-seconds. The Seeker shifted to robot form in midair and landed beside Megatron, who had only just emerged from the rubble. "My liege," he said, "We must hurry to the warship."

"No!" the other stated, fury in his voice, "We will not retreat. Scramble all available units to deal with this attack!"

"There is no attack, my lord. But the citadel is collapsing! We must return to the warship."

Megatron looked wildly from one direction to the next, seeing that- as much as it burned him- Starscream was right. "Retreat!" he called to those vehicons still on the platform. They immediately took to the air, transforming and flying away. Only after the troops had gone did Megatron and Starscream do the same. They landed on the fore-deck of the Nemesis moments later in robot form. Towering over those around him, the Decepticon leader strode to the edge and watched as, once again, his fortress burned. Only this time, there was no Predacon spiraling overhead. Nor was Megatron pleased.

As he watched, smoke rose high in the air, mushrooming into a distinctive nuclear cloud. Scorch marks were present on the desert, concentric circles of ash that radiated outwards. Spires split from their anchors and crashed into the desert. Metal that had only just been repaired split open again. The entire top half of the Decepticons' stronghold sheared away in a peircing screech that was, in its own way, as terrifying as the Predacon's howl. Unlucky vehicons trapped inside cried out as their sparks were crushed into the ground.

Megatron's optics narrowed, and his claws clenched into a fist

2

Angry footsteps echoed off the halls of SOCCENT Ford Air Defense Command in Jasper, Nevada. Yound soldiers, hardened men from every military division, all of whom had served multiple tours, leapt out of the way as a barrel-chested African American man stomped by. The look on his face told them all he would trample them into the ground if they stayed in his path, and wouldn't bat an eye. The name on his Visitor's Pass told them all that such an incident would require minimal paperwork to explain away.

General Bryce had only just settled into his desk chair after lunch, the morning reports still strewn all over, his coffee still warm, when the door was thrust open hard enough to break the jamb and put the handle through the wall. In came former agent William Fowler, his Visitor's Pass pinned awkwardly on the lapel of his suit. Though the man's furious entry put Bryce on edge, it wasn't unexpected. Mere hours had passed since the incident in Dreamwave. He'd already quarantined the techs, and would have them briefed by afternoon. Tomorrow it would be completely taken care of.

"Bill," he said. "I was just about to call you." Not necessarily a lie. It might have been a few minutes though. Or hours.

"Nice to know that I'm still thought so highly of," Fowler said as he sat down. He clasped his hands under his chin and reclined. "Now, who authorized an air strike on the Decepticon fortress?"

Bryce eyed Fowler warily. The man had spent a lot of time among the aliens. Maybe too much time. No matter what, it had to be understood that the aliens weren't United States citizens, weren't even human. If the nation's best interests would be served by cutting them off, so be it. Fowler seemed to have forgotten that. "Air strike, Bill? I don't know what you're talking about. What I want to know is: which one of your 'Autobots' decided to toss a nuclear weapon at the Decepticons, on American soil?"

The man started visibly. Clearly he wasn't as informed as he ought to be. Bryce regretted that the agency had been forced to let the man go. He had been their only link with Earth's defenders; in all likelyhood, this would be the last time they would talk. Doubtless he'd used all the favors he had left to get in here. "General, none of the Bots can fly," he said. "And they sure as shootin' don't have access to nuclear weapons."

They both stopped to think for a moment about the implication of their statements. Bryce, in particular, felt a growing dread.

"Maybe you should tell me what it is you know that I don't," Fowler said.

Bryce sighed, then took a deep breath. "At approximately oh-nine hundred hours this morning, a stealth aircraft infiltrated zone G-1000. The craft had no manufactures' labels or identification numbers of any sort. A Sky Striker was dispatched to scout the plane. In her last transmission, the pilot said something about her instruments malfunctioning. She was unable to activate the emergency eject, and is presumed dead-on-impact. Following that, the Dreamwave technicians raised the satellite images of G-1000 just in time to see the infiltrating aircraft launch a missile at the Decepticon citadel. Analysis determined that the missile was an atomic weapon. Impact was confirmed by keyhole satellite at eleven hundred hours."

Fowler soaked in the information like a sponge. The man's mind was able to put two and two together. "No hostile country has the capability to manufacture a stealth plane that sophisticated. And no factory in this country or our allies' would put out a plane with no labels."

"Which is exactly why we assumed that this particualr plane originated from a... different 'manufacturer' all together. Considering your reports of our enemies' scanning capabilities."

"All I can tell you, Sir, is that none of the Autobots have a flight capable alternate forms. And I seriously doubt any of the Decepticons would have reason to fire on their own."

Bryce knew that was the truth. But the equal truth was that no human had pulled the trigger either. "If it wasn't them," he said, "And it wasn't us... Who was it?"

Megatron glowered on the bridge of the Nemesis. The massive warship still circled New Kaon; below, the remaining vehicons and insecticons were hard at work to repair the damaged citadel.

Starscream postured himself to Megatron's side. Soundwave was once again plugged into the controls. Knockout was in sickbay dealing with the hundreds of injuries that had resulted that morning. Shockwave, meanwhile, was supervising the troops' efforts. "We are fortunate," his voice announced over an open commlink. "Much of the superstructure held together through impact, though a large division at the detonation point was simply vaporized. I expect repairs to be completed before the next solar cycle." Megatron knew that the haste would expose the troops to radiation, which would negatively affect their bio-mechanisms, and that the haste was merely an attempt to place the engineer back in his good graces. It would not work. But he would allow the rush just the same.

"Just be sure that you can deliver upon your promises, Shockwave," he said, then terminated the communication. "Starscream! What progress have you made?"

The Seeker stepped up to a computer station and tapped a key. "This is the imagery taken by a human satellite mere moments before impact," he said. They watched as a missile entered the scene and exploded against New Kaon. Megatron felt the Dark Energon in his spark begin to boil again.

"Where did it come from?" the tyrant roared. He looked at Soundwave. The communications chief extended a tentacle, latching onto the terminal Starscream was using. The picture rewound and moved, following the path of the missile back to its origin. The watching Decepticons' optics narrowed, then widened in surprise as the B-2 was revealed.

"Autobots don't fly," Starscream pondered. He looked at his leader. "Humans?"

The both looked at Soundwave. "Dreamwave Control to unidentified aircraft," he played. "You have entered restricted zone G-1000. Walk ident and procede east out of the Area." A slight buzz ended the radio transmission.

That gave them pause, and the two malevolent robots allowed the full impact of the words to sink in. "So... you are saying that it was not the humans, after all?" Megatron was severely confused.

"But if it wasn't them, and it wasn't the Autobots," Starscream thought out loud, "Then who was it?"

3

The B-2 Stealth Bomber flew low to the ground, far more than was legal. The desert landscape passed by in flashes; any human pilot would have blacked out. Rock outcroppings sprung up quickly, forcing the plane to dodge and weave among nature's obstacle course. The plane rose up, then rolled into a narrow canyon.

The dark chasm was an alien environment, dripping slime and mold, crusted with sulfurous build up from volcanic activity, glowing from quartz crystals. The glinting specks of mineral gave the impression of a sky of stars, or more eerily, a horde of eyes standing eternal watch. The gaping wound of the earth angled downward, driving under the surface like a wood splinter under skin. Still the plane flew on, being absorbed into a darkness so complete that no human would be able to see.

In time, the shadows gave way to a muted glow. Not the clean reflection of quartz, but a harsh blue-green radiation, tinged with red. It was entrancing. Light cast off the plane's metal exterior in unnatural patterns, as it amazingly sped yet deeper into the earth. No human could have managed such a journey by air.

Slowly, the tunnel widened into a massive crystaline cavern, with a pinprick of sunlight showing through the roof. A single shaft of sunshine fell to the floor near the other side of the cavern, its light forming a shape like a ragged pentagon. Aquamarine shards thrust out of the ground, while pillars of reddish-green held up a vaulted cieling. Strangely, the crystals' glow was not steady; rather, it came in steady pulses, slow and regular, like a heart beat. It was as if it were the body of a gigantic crystal beast.

The plane was half-way into the gloom when it split apart in midair and transformed. Armor plating realigned as wires writhed like snakes beneath the surface. Parts hidden below the plane's outer covering created servos and optics, finding use where there was none before. The ease of flight could now be understood: it wasn't human.

The bipedal robot landed on one knee at the edge of the sunshine. Ocherous light seeped from between its joints and shone in its veins. Large horns bent up from a noble helm. Dark armor blended with the shadows. "My Liege," he said, voice as deep as an ocean, "Your most loyal servant has returned."

From the murkiness across the light shaft, an even blacker shadow seemed to appear. Where other shadows were simply an absence of light, this void gave the impression that it was absorbing the light, like a black hole. It oozed malice and hatred from a dim form the size of a small mountain. Its voice was deeper than the cosmos. "Rise, Interceptor. Tell me of your mission."

The bowing figure rose to his feet, angel-like wings showing as he did so. "Success, my lord. Impact registered as several meters off centre, resulting in the citadel being severely damaged- but not destroyed."

"Good," the darkness rumbled. "Both sides will be aware by now that something is amiss. The time has come for them to learn our righteous strength. We will use their own hunger against them."

Interceptor nodded. "What is my duty?"

"We have located the weakest operation." A fierce red glow pierced the void, an angry 'V' in the head of the darkness. "Decimate it. Leave no trace."

The other nodded. "As you wish, My Liege." He spun into his transformation, resuming the shape of a stealth bomber, which flew away as it had come. The cavern was silent again.

Slowly, another void appeared, and then another. They approached the first from either side, slowly leaving the shadows behind. The first was thin and angular, with the distinctive wings of a small airplane; the second was just as thin, but more rounded, and had the windshields of a small boat or jet-ski on its shins. Both were plainly female.

"Liege," they said together, kneeling before the void. It chuckled.

"No need for formalities, my lieutenants."

They stood, and the soft-featured one stepped forward. "Is it wise to entrust these vital missions to one such as Interceptor?"

"You do not trust him?" the shadowed being challenged.

The other looked startled. "Surely you do not? He is one of Amalgamous Prime's brood. One such as that would stab us in the back as soon as-"

A hand appeared from the void, cloaked in darkness, held up in the universal sign for stop. "Peace, Flareup. I have known Interceptor longer than I have even you. He is trustworthy."

"Then why is he not your lieutenant?" the angular femme asked.

The shadows shifted around the void, seeming to move as though alive. It slowly rose up, higher and higher, towering over the two femmes. At last, a great armored foot moved into the shaft of sunlight, clad in gold and copper. It was followed by a massive trunk of a leg, a robust torso, two immense arms, a second colossal leg. Lingering shadows flowed away from the being's helm like mist off water, revealing a flat, triangular mask, a jagged, puckered scar instead of a mouth, large golden horns sprouting from the neck, and a vicious V-shaped slash instead of eyes.

The colossus towered over the impudent femme. "Because, Chromia, I keep those that I do not trust close to me, so that I might keep an eye on them... so to speak."

Chromia backed up, instinctively bringing her arms up to shield herself. "I... I mean no disrespect..."

"I know. You have your missions," he said, addressing them both. "Return when they are complete."

He stepped backwards into the darkness, stooping low. Golden plating shining, he sat upon a twisted black-crystal throne, and darkness flowed over him once more. The two femmes bowed to their master, then they, too, backed into the shadows, leaving the chasm in the earth empty and silent once more.

4

The harsh smell of ozone permeated the mid-afternoon air as electricity jumped between alloys. Ratchet carfully guided the large arc welder down the seam in Optimus' armor. "It appears that your systems have recovered as much as they will, under the circumstances," the medic stated, mostly for the benefit of the humans and Autobots gathered nearby.

"Thank you, old friend," Optimus said. His deep voice brought a smile to the faces of the others.

Fowler hadn't yet returned from the Jasper base. But June stood on the back porch, keeping watch over the kids, who stood by their Autobot guardians. Jack boldly stepped forward as Ratchet put away his tools. "Hey, Optimus," he said. "I guess I won't be needing this anymore." He held out the delicate bit of metal known as the Key to Vector Sigma. Before entering stasis, the Prime had given it to Jack, as a 'symbol of his leadership'. Now that Optimus was awake and recovered, it was time to give it up.

But that wasn't how it happened. "No, Jack," Optimus said. "I am not yet fit for battle. For now, I would like you to keep command."

The seventeen year old looked startled for a moment, then proud. He gave a ramrod salute. "I won't let you down Optimus."

"Speaking of battle," came the voice from across the yard, "How long 'til I'm allowed out there, Doc?"

The members of Team Prime turned to look at Wheeljack, casually leaned against an oak that was taller than he was. "No offence, but I'm not used to these confined quarters," the Wrecker said.

"Until I am able to construct you a replacement limb, and considering our limited resources, that will be quite a while," Ratchet replied sullenly. Wheeljack glanced down at what remained of his leg. It was truncated just below his knee servo, with only ragged bits of metal left as evidence of what had been there. He groaned.

"I can't even drive around without all four wheels," he complained.

"Look at the bright shiny side," Bulkhead put in jovially, "The Doc single-handedly put the kaibosh to Megatron's Predacon!"

They all looked at the orange mecha proudly, but he was absorbed in his newly-constructed Cybertronian computer, typing commands on the improvised keyboard. Jack wondered if he even knew they were talking about him. "Something to be said for modesty," the teen quipped.

"You could do with a lesson," Arcee said to Smokescreen. The young Bot grinned, nowhere near offended.

"If you all are finished joking around," Ratchet said, joining the conversation several seconds too late, "We have something more important to discuss."

The others looked at him. "Go ahead, old friend," Optimus said, at the exact same time as Jack said, "Fire away, Ratchet."

They stared at one another. "My apologies, Jack," Optimus said bashfully. "The Autobots are yours to command."

The teen looked uncomfortable. "I- I don't think..."

"When I have fully recuperated, I will return to my duty," the Prime said more forcefully. "In the mean time, they are under your authority."

Jack hesitated, then nodded. "All right. Ratchet?"

"I have just finished recalibrating our new computer system to access the old surveillance network. With the energon sensors already in place, we can start searching for fuel immediately."

"What a relief!" Bulkhead exclaimed. "I've been feeling dizzy for days!"

They all stared at him, amused. Ratchet took a different view.

"You're fine. It'll be several solar cycles before lack of energon causes any noticable difference in your system."

"Tell that to my aching actuators," the Wrecker muttered bitterly.

"If I may," Optimus put in. "While we may be able to last for a while without replenishing our fluids," he said, "It seems as though it would be best to focus on locating and seizing new energon deposites."

Jack looked at him. That phrase was carefully worded. A suggestion, but one that was obviously meant to be obeyed. And logical. There was no arguing with it. "Sounds good. Why don't you guys pair off, so when Ratchet does find something, you can head out right away."

"Me and Arcee," Smokescreen said automatically, sizing up his chances at success.

The femme glanced sideways. "Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest.

Bulkhead and Bumbleee locked optics. "Heh, guess its you and me buddy," the Wrecker said with a shrug. Bumblebee whirred sadly, but with acceptance.

A/N: I'm toying with the idea of making bumblebee have a crush on arcee. after all, she's free b/c i am not shipping her with optimus. plus, she's only a little older than him (about one year in human terms), and he'd be about jack's age (17, 18). Smokescreen of course just wants the best combat group- himself and arcee. bulkhead's too slow, and bumblebee has no melee weapons. smoke has his guns and the phase shifter, arcee has her guns and blades. am i over explaining this? yes, yes i am.

5

Starscream stood on the bridge of the Nemesis, coordinating the massive Decepticon troop movement that was underway. "Seeker Armada to the flight deck," he announced over an open comm. "Your target is a large, unmarked aircraft. Seek, and destroy!"

The phalanx of silver Decepticons walked onto one of the platforms of New Kaon. Situated withing the tower's lower half, it had remained intact throught the missile strike. In one swift motion, the entire group- nearly three hundred of them- leapt skyward and transformed. In the air, they seperated like a fireworks display, squadrons flying towards every corner of the map.

"Fliers, take to the skies. Find the Autobots, and obliterate them!"

Once the Seekers had departed, a second, larger group of Decepticons made their way onto the platform. The purple-clad troopers leapt into the air with less finess than their brethren, but equal effectiveness. They, too, dispersed in every direction, searching.

"Insecticons, ready to ground-bridge. You will provide reinforcement in the event of attack."

The primitive hive dropped to the floor of their chamber, growling with anticipation. They sharpened their claws and shrieked delightedly. Soon, the hive would feel the sweet sensation of metal tearing, alloys buckling under their blows, of energon flowing as enemies were ripped apart. Red optics gleamed in the dark.

"All units: be prepared for an iminent assault," the air commander finished with a sneer. He turned from the bridge, calling over his shoulder, "You may return to your post, Soundwave."

Walking towards the top deck, he wondered when Megatron would broach the subject of the Autobot's base again- where it was exactly. Only he, Starscream knew its location. It was something that not even Soundwave had been able to discover. To think, how easy it would be for him to lead a ground squadron there and have them eliminate the Autobots. Once, he would have, too- siezed the glory, usurped Megatron, destroyed Optimus Prime while he lay on the ground, weak. But now it was just too simple. Too convenient. And besides, he owed Megatron.

From the Nemesis' flight deck, Starscream launched himself heavenward, shifting to vehicular form for transport rather than relying upon the ground-bridge. Having gone so long without his T-cog, he now took every opportunity to feel the sensation of wind beneath his wings. Within seconds, he reached the cliff above the ruins of Omega Outpost One, where Megatron stood, brooding. Here, apart from everyone, the Decepticon leader was free to think whatever thoughts he wanted, with no care given to what expression crossed his features, or what physical reaction may happen. Split boulders and scorch marks evidenced blinding anger, while absent-minded marks in the ash showed the tyrant's softer thoughts. Or perhaps, Starscream thought, observing what would have been a masterful work by human standards that depicting Optimus Prime being gutted by Megatron's bare claw, simply less violent than other thoughts.

At the sound of his second in command's turbines, Megatron swept away the images. He resumed the practiced air of a malevolent despot, Dark Energon in his veins causing the air to crackle with purple electicity. He turned as Starscream once again resumed his robotic form and knelt to the ground. "Have you found our assailant?" the Lord of the Decepticons growled.

"No, my leige, not yet. I simply wished to inform you of our progress," he said earnestly.

"And what progress is that?" Megatron replied impatiently.

"Well, ah..." the Seeker coughed nervously. "None... my Lord."

"Then leave."

Starscream did not do so. Not only did he feel like staying, but the order was given with so little feeling that he felt it was more of an invitation. He walked over to his leader's side. Megatron stared down at the shadowy ruins, his optics ablaze with agony. Here and there, flames still burned like funeral pyres, while the whine of drills echoed out of tunnels on the side. Shadows and soot lay thick over the broken rock and metal. Disturbingly, the base's fall had left debris that formed an image not unlike that of a human skull.

"How did it come to this, Orion?" Megatron whispered, so low that Starscream could barely make out the words. He realized that he was not actually meant to hear them- so of course he listened closer. "All I ever wanted... was to restore Cybertron to greatness. Yet here we are, on a distant world, and still we continue to fight, though we no longer have reason. This planet will never be home, not to me, or any other Decepticon. What is our purpose? This war can only end in death, destruction. Mine, and our race will perish, for you will never be able to do what is necessary. Yours, and my spark will have no life, brother. At last, I see what you did... and I know why you despair." The great mecha paused, his audio receptors picking up the sound of servos and labored breathing, and he snarled. "Starscream!"

The Seeker fell on his skidplate as Megatron rounded on him, no longer lost in his memories. "What are you still doing here?" he threatened, bringing up his prime arm to hit the impudent second in command.

"PLEASE MY LORD!" he shrieked desperately, backing away without getting up. "I LIVE ONLY TO SERVE YOU!"

Megatron raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me your will!" the pathetic mecha groveled, still on his back.

Megatron stomped down next to the Seeker's head, causing him to flinch and curl into a fetal position. After a moment, he realized that no blow had been struck, and uncurled... only to find Megatron's face an inch from his. He shrieked again, flinching away.

"Find our tresspassor, and bring him to me," the tyrant snarled, as vicious as a Predacon, "So that I might make an example of him- and show the universe what it means to cross Megatron!"

Former FBI agent William Fowler was not a patient man. Traffic, beauracracy, and idiots in general had forced his already short fuse into non-existance. Understandably, he was glad to return to the simple world of Autobots versus Decepticons, even if he was the bearer of bad news.

That is, until he nearly tripped over a thick bundle of cables draping across the yard, leading to an array of solar collection plates. "Will somebody please tell me why there are wires everywhere," he shouted to no one in particular.

"Sorry Agent Fowler," Raf apologized. "We're trying to fix the synthetic energon formula and needed more power."

"The whats-it?" he exclaimed, then put a hand to his forehead and waved the answer away. "Never mind, that's not why I'm here. Prime!"

The red and blue mecha sat against the largest remaining tree in the yard, doing his best to remain hidden. But when Fowler spoke, he rose to his feet and knelt closer. "Hello, Agent Fowler. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Fowler wondered if he would ever ger used to conversing with a robot the size of a building. Probably not, he decided. "We've got a bit of a situation."

"Is it Cons?" Arcee asked, strolling towards them with anticipation.

"No, I-" Fowler paused, having just noticed the eemptiness of the yard. "Where are the others?"

"Bulkhead and Bumblebee are out scouting for energon," Ratchet's muffled voice emerged from behind an open metal box.

"Not sure that's wise," Fowler said, "Not with Uncle Sam's military ready to fire at the first sighting of an alien robot." The others exchanged puzzled glances.

"What has happened," Optimus asked, ever level-headed.

Fowler looked him in the eye-er, optic. "An advanced stealth technology aircraft infiltrated the zone around the Decepticon fortress this morning." The Autobots immediately sat, or stood, straighter. Ratchet scraped his helm on his machine's top trying to get out. "The plane launched a missile at the tower," he continued, "A nuclear missile. According to General Bryce, it wasn't any of our boys. And with Starscream back with the Cons-"

"It wasn't them either," Arcee finished.

"Exactly." Out of the corner of his eye, Fowler noted the other kids coming out of the house with June, who had changed out of her usual scrubs into a more befitting blouse and jeans.

"Well, it wasn't us," Smokescreen butted in. "Wings don't really fit in with Bots."

Fowler glared bullets at the young smart-mouth. "We already knew that, hot rod." He looked back at Optimus. "The General and I talked it over. We think that there may be a new Cybertronian on Earth, one who hasn't figured out what team he's on yet."

Miko was suddenly right there, as could be expected. "Whoa, another Bot?"

"Great," Arcee muttered. "Another security risk."

Optimus considered the idea for a moment. "If that is indeed the case," he said carefully, "We must proceed with caution. This newcomer could just as easily turn out to be an enemy, rather than an ally."

Jack spoke up for the first time, concerned. "Wait, can we search for energon and this mystery Bot?"

"No," Optimus said gravely.

Fowler started to protest. "Well, then, what are we going to-"

"I am afraid," the Autobot leader intoned, "That for the time being, we must forgo our quest for energon." The other Autobots looked at him in surprise.

"Optimus, are you sure?" Arcee asked.

"Yeah," Smokescreen said, "We're getting pretty low."

Optimus turned to Ratchet. "Contact Bulkhead and Bumblebee, and inform them of this developement." The others stared at him, stunned. He locked eyes with Jack, who nodded in understanding. "If we have deciphered the situation, so, too, have the Decepticons. We must locate this stranger, before it is too late."

6

The Cybertronian class system that began in the Golden Age had dissolved into chaos. Most of them, Autobot or Decepticon, bore little resemblance to the few molds that exhisted back then. Indeed, few Cybretronians even knew their lineage anymore.

But like Earth sharks, one class had not changed. The Decepticon Miner class was nigh identical to the miners of old Cybertron, down to the bearings in their servos. Like their predecessors, Decepticon miners were short and bulky, with triangular shoulder armor and squat legs. A mask, not unlike that of a welder on Earth, covered their face plates. Three horizontal slits allowed them to see almost everything.

The mine designated XR-22 was smaller than many of the operations on Earth, but was larger by magnitudes than several others. Dark and dank, blue crystals protruded from the walls and ceiling in beautiful natural patterns. Dozens of miners hauled, cut, and processed energon, while still others tunneled further into the planet's crust. The energon from a single day's work was enough to fuel a small hive of insecticons for half a stellar cycle. As it was, Starscream was threatening to ration their own energon if they didn't increase their output within a few solar cycles. Megatron could complain about Autobot victory all he wanted, the Decepticon troops were inexhaustible. And very hungry.

When the whine of jet engines filtered into XR-22, the miners exchanged many nervous glances. The sound was associated with Starscream, Megatron, or Soundwave, all of whom made the miners nervous. But inspections were preformed regularly; the last one had been only two solar cycles ago, and the next was not scheduled for another Earth month. There was no reason for one of the executives to visit.

With surprising suddenness, the stealth bomber swung down into the tunnels, its wingtips throwing sparks from where they scraped along the walls. Before any of the miners could react, the plane split apart and reformed in the shape of a towering slate-blue mecha, razor sharp angels' wings spread out behind it, angular horns sprouting from its helm. The mecha landed, crouched like a panther, before the miners. Unsure, those who hadn't already extended their lasers and aimed at him.

"By all means, shoot!" he said in a deep voice, rising over them. From his dark face, orange optics gleamed. With his wings spread majestically behind him, he appeared as the angel of death- theirs. "It will do you no good."

A/N: what do you think- commercial here?

"Soundwave!"

Megatron's voice cut through the silence of the bridge, and his communications chief turned from the helm. A slight tilt to his helm showed the question he didn't voice.

"One of our mines has failed to report in," the Decepticon leader stated. "I would send Starscream, but he is... otherwise engaged. I trust you will have no difficulties?"

The silent mecha knew when he was not to question Megatron. This was one of those times. For Starscream was not occupied, he was enjoying an extended period of shut-down in his cabin. And Megatron would not entrust his second-in-command with this task anyway. Soundwave nodded.

"Excellent!" his lord appraised. "The ground-bridge is already fully calibrated. I will not keep you any longer."

Soundwave stepped cautiously from the swirling green vortex onto the cliffs above the rouge mine. A lesser Decepticon would have charged unthinking into battle(ahem- starscream). The communications chief knew better. He glanced around, preforming a visual inspection of the surrounding rock, finding nothing, then an audio, hearing only muffled sounds from below, indistinct noises that might be drills or a Velocitronian Racing Bird cawing for its mate. He would have to enter the caves to find out.

As a precaution, Soundwave visually inspected the object attached to his forearm- the Resonance Blaster. It would provide him all the edge he would need in a combat situation, providing he had the time to use it. And if that failed, well, he had been second only to Megatron as a gladiator of the Pit. Only Optimus Prime at full strength would have a chance at fighting him, and Optimus was not at full strength.

Soundwave leapt over the edge of the cliff, landing silently on his feet. With a soft click that made him mentally wince, Laserbeak unfolded from his chest and flew away. The drone would provide air support, as well as a recording for those onboard the Nemesis to watch.

Megatron stood with Starscream on the bridge of the warship. Laserbeak's recording streamed live onto the screens, giving them a perfect view of Soundwave's progress. Something that it seemed Starscream was not happy about.

"Are you sure Soundwave is the best choice for this assignment, my liege? After all, it has been some time since our... comrade was in a combat situation."

The Decepticon leader glanced down at his second in command. "Rest assured, Soundwave will preform most admirably. Why don't you spend less time talking and more watching, Starscream. You might learn something."

He chuckled softly as the Seeker fumed.

Soundwave tread lightly into the darkened mine, drawing ever closer to the obvious sound of drills. He realized that the high-pitched whine was quieter than it should be- the machinery was not actually in use. It was on, but not in use. His vigilance went up another notch.

Around a corner, down the central corridor of a three-way split, around a stack of energon cubes waiting for pick up...

Soundwave stepped into the main excavation, the central hub. Three stories tall, with a partial transport tube running down the side. It was a near replica of the mine Starscream had detonated after Megatron's return to Earth. The only obvious difference: the miners were already dead.

Soundwave was a little dismayed at this. The attacker, or attackers, had struck so quickly and fiercely that there had been no time to sound the alarm once the attack began. He looked around and saw holes burned through chest and face plates, armor shredded into slivers, and a few bodies that looked as though they had been simply crushed. Soundwave had never seen a massacre like this.

A small noise caught his attention, almost lost among the whine of the drills. He walked carefully around another stack of cubes, listenng as the sound repeated itself, over and over: a high-pitched beep. Soundwave felt the tiniest trill of fear as he glanced down and saw the charge planted on the cubes.

A highly concentrated, premium-grade, timed explosive.

Frag.

Soundwave turned and ran, not bothering to check the rest of the mine. If he wanted to survive, he had to leave right then. Feet slipping on loose gravel, he careened off the tunnel side and sped towards the exit, silently signaling Laserbeak to get clear of the blast radius. Soundwave himself leapt into the sunlight an instant later.

And not a nanocycle too soon.

The bomb detonated, the shockwave traveling through rock and air, sending Soundwave flying. A teal fireball errupted out of the top of the cliff, which then gave way and fell in on itself. A moment later, the noise hit him, like a volcano errupting combined with an earthquake and a rocket launch. Soundwave's audio receptors nearly shorted out. Pikcing himself up off the ground, he turned to watch the sapphire eruption climb higher into the sky. Waves of heat threatened to overload his cooling systems. Bits of metal- miners' armor- pelted the ground. The one emotion that Soundwave could feel welled up inside of his spark: anger. The one responsible for this would pay.

As though the universe had heard, his wish was granted. Soundwave watched as the stealth aircraft hurtled from the tunnel entrance, its wash nearly knocking him to the ground. A quick glance confirmed- it was the same plane that had attacked New Kaon. Soundwave called Laserbeak down to him, then leapt into the air, converting to his vehicular form. Soundwave flew off in pursuit of the offender, pushing his engines to their limit.

That plane would pay.

7

"Optimus, I'm picking up a massive energon spike."

Ratchet's cautious voice radiated across the yard. The others heard, but couldn't quite believe, and it was Smokescreen who gave voice to their doubt: "The Cons are moving energon? Now?"

"No," Ratchet said, "The signiature is more consistent with an explosion."

"Another attack," Fowler mused. "Bryce is gonna have my hide."

Jack and Optimus exchanged a glance, and for a moment, brain and processor worked as one. "Let's roll," the teen said, already making his way towards the Apex Armor.

At the same time, Optimus asked, "Ratchet, can you triangulate coordinates?"

The medic snorted and acted rather than respond. After a few taps of his control board, he announced, "Coordinates located. An area known as the 'Hibbradees Bluffs'."

"Scotland?" Fowler said with interest. "Don't forget to pack your kilts."

A/N: best part of that episode.

Smokescreen and Bulkhead joined Jack on the opposite side of the yard. Aware of the two Autobots watching him, he activated the armor, disoriented for a moment as the plates shoved him up, rearranging themselves around him. Jack clenched a fist experimentally, then nodded to Optimus. The Autobot leader nodded in turn to Ratchet, who activated their remote ground-bridge. The green vortex flared to life.

Jack led his teammates into the bridge, confident that they would be able to deal with anything they found on the other side. They strode out into the open. Jack stared, shocked, at the sight that greeted them. Soundwave, taking to the air after a massive stealth bomber.

White-hot plasma streamed from Soundwave's single engine. Though his quarry had the upper hand with two, Soundwave was smaller and lighter, which meant he could easily pace the larger aircraft. The advantage came through Laserbeak, whose Cybertronian form was completely capable of outstripping any Earth-based vehicle form.

The small drone appeared in front of their prey and opened fire. Plasma blasts strafed down the right wing, and the target banked left, only to find Soundwave waiting with his own barrage. The bomber went into a barrel roll that turned into a downward loop. It fell into place behind Soundwave.

The communications chief was surprised when a bolt of pain shot up from his left tail fin. The plane had outmaneuvered him, a first, and its barrage had left a big hole in that part of him. Furious, Soundwave poured on the speed. He went super-sonic; a moment later his sensors informed him that the other had done the same.

Come on, come on you fragging pathetic excuse for a plane, he thought. After another five nanocycles, Soundwave put up his braking flaps, cut his engine, and dropped. The other plane continued forward-

And was hit head on by a barrage of bolts from Laserbeak, who had accelerated in front of them. The bomber twisted in surprise, angling down and away. A blast hit one of its engines, stalling it.

Soundwave zoomed in on the failing plane. He came at it from the side, calculating trajectories and spin, knowing full well that at his current speed, a collision was imminent. The bomber's radar-reflecting body filled his front view.

In an instant, Soundwave reverted to his robotic form, hitting the other plane's second engine with a flying-ninja kick that would have impressed the Autobot Arcee. The plasma flare sputtered out, and both of them felt the inexorible tug of gravity. Soundwave changed back to his vehicular form and flew away. The bomber wasn't so lucky.

Thanks to the Decepticon's well-aimed strike, the bomber was tumbling end over end. Wind ripped at its parts, tearing off braking flaps. The edges of its wings flared red as friction burned them. A final out of control turn sent the aircraft's already damaged right wing into a rock outcropping, shredding the delicate underside. It spun around, striking the rocky plateau hard. The front of the plane dug into the ground, and its windows shattered. A tidal wave of dirt sprayed out as the nose of the bomber was buried.

For a moment the area was quiet.

And then Soundwave's feet hit the ground not ten yards away.

The Autobots had stayed back for a while, watching as the two aircraft traded shots. The dogfight had seemed fairly evenly matched. But once the pair had accelerated out of sight, Jack was forced to order pursuit. He hoped against hope that the new guy would win, but Soundwave was a tough opponent. He deactivated his armor and hopped into Smokescreen's sports car.

After a few moments of driving over rough desert terrain, the dial on Smoke's dash pushing 120, Jack noticed a haze of blackened sky. "There," he pointed.

"I see it," the Autobot replied. "I can hear it, too."

Jack realized what he meant a moment later: the ringing of metal on metal. A fight. "Step on it," he said. The needle on the dash jumped into the red.

Laserbeak swooped out of the sky, reverting to his armor form on Soundwave's chest. The silent mech stomped forward carelessly, making sure that every iota of his anger showed in his footsteps.

Behind the dirt pile, a tall figure struggled to stand. One horn lay broken on the sand, and his angel-like right wing hung limply from his back. Scorch marks and burned holes covered his dark armor. As Soundwave approached, he looked up with ocherous optics to glare at the Decepticon. "I don't know who you are, mech, but you've just made a serious mistake," he ground out.

In response, the communications chief wrapped a claw around the other's neck servo. He hauled the larger robot upright and aimed the Resonance Blaster at his faceplate. The stranger's optics widened.

8

"Oh, scrap," Jack muttered. He and the Autobots were crouched at the top of a smoking ridge. Below them, Soundwave had a talon wrapped around the newcomer's throat. Considering the guy was as tall as Optimus, that itself was incredible. The Decepticon was also pointing some kind of weapon at his face. And was about to fire.

They couldn't let him do that.

"Move."

Smokescreen vaulted over the edge, crashing headlong into Soundwave's backstrut. The pair tumbled end over end before landing seperately on their feet. Soundwave extended his tentacles and stalked forward menacingly.

Bulkhead and Jack bounded down the hill with more control. While Smokescreen distracted the Decepticon, they moved to help the fallen stranger. He didn't look like any Cybertronian they had seen before, what with the angel wings and all, and there was something else, something that Jack couldn't place. When they reached the edge of the trench, Jack held out a hand. Behind him, he heard Bulkhead extending his cannons.

The strange robot looked up at Jack oddly, like he didn't understand what the appendage in front of him was for. Then he grasped the hand. Jack helped the mecha to his feet, careful to avoid his damaged wing. "Easy," he said. "Just take it easy. We're here to help." He locked his optics on Jack's face. Jack noticed his orange optics. Autobots didn't have orange optics. Neither did Cons.

"Thank you," the mecha said once he was standing on his own, "But I don't need your help."

And then he slammed a fist into Bulkhead's back.

A/N: another commercial?

The Wrecker fell forward with a huge dent in his back panel, never understanding what had happened until it was too late. Jack himself didn't understand. Sluggishly, his brain realized that Soundwave had Smokescreen pinned by blaster fire, that Bulkhead was injured, and that there was now a mecha in play who seemed to have it in for both sides.

The stranger rolled his right shoulder, and the broken wing righted itself with a loud crunch. With his dark armor and those glowing orange optics, he looked like the Cybertronian angel of death. Jack gulped, then shoved his fist forward. The mecha caught it.

"You're all the same," he snarled, before slamming an open palm into Jack's chest. Jack stumbled backward. The mecha swept his foot behind Jack's, and he went down hard. "You all think that you're doing what's right."

Jack rolled to the side and up to his feet. He raised his hands in a sort of fighting stance. Then his eyes widened as the stranger picked up a boulder and hurled it at him. The huge rock bounced off the Apex Armor harmlessly, but even a relic of Iacon couldn't defy the most basic laws of physics. At least not this one. Jack fell backwards. The mecha grabbed another stone. "You're all wrong!" He dragged it over to where Jack lay. "You've all been blinded by war!" he shouted as he hoisted the boulder over his head. "And now..." he chuckled. "Now your war is coming to an end."

A/N: or perhaps here would be better.

Bulkhead groaned in pain. It wasn't near as bad as when Hardshell had pounded him, but it was pretty bad. He rolled over just in time to see a boulder hit Jack in the chasse, knocking him on his aft. The new guy grabbed another boulder and prepared to crush Jack with it. Bulkhead got to his feet, desperation giving him strength.

"Oh, no you don't!" he grunted. He wrapped his massive arms around the stranger's middle, causing him to drop the rock. Bulkhead spun the mecha and hurled him sideways towards Soundwave. The Decepticon, distracted, faltered in his assault on Smokescreen. Seizing the chance, the youngster sent a shot towards Laserbeak. The drone couldn't dodge far enough, and the blast ripped off a part of its wing and sent it spiralling towards the ground.

Bulkhead ran over and helped Jack to his feet. The teen nodded his thanks. Together, they advanced on the strange attacker.

Soundwave looked at the trio of charging Autobots, and the recovering stranger. He ran a quick calculation. The probability of a positive outcome was almost non-existant. He bid Laserbeak to return; with its last burst of power, the drone reattached to his chest. Soundwave leapt into the air and flew away.

Jack watched Soundwave's retreat with narrowed eyes. Typical Decepticon coward. In the meantime, they had another mecha to deal with.

Bulkhead had managed to dislocate the stranger's wing again, and leave a sizeable crack in the rock as well. The new Bot glared at them all. "Do it," he rasped. "Finish me off. Just get it over with."

Jack looked at him, understanding why Optimus pitied the Decepticons. This Cybertronian had the same mentality, kill or be-killed, and nothing more. He wouldn't understand mercy. That's why they had to show it. "We're not going to kill you. Just tell us who you-"

Jack lay on his back, gasping. What had just happened? He remembered a flash of green-blue light, and crackling energy, and a wave of heat unlike anything he'd felt before. He saw the other Autobots pinned to the rocks as well, groaning. And in between them and the stranger, something else, something... terrifying.

A metal colossus, even taller than the Apex Armor. Golden plating, shining brightly, sending off streamers of electricity. Horns, massive metal spikes as long as Jack was tall. A glowing red visor. An evil, puckered black slash for a mouth. And shadows, darkness verywhere, coating the behemoth, turning day into night. The visor turned towards Jack, and he gulped. It felt as though his soul was beeing sucked out by this metal monster. It was terrifying in a totally different way from the Predacon. That beast had been primal, ancient, a forgotten menace from another time. This... this was evil incarnate. And it had appeared out of nowhere.

"Autobots," it said, voice making Jack shiver. It snorted disdainfully before turning to the other. "Interceptor. You were successful."

Jack could barely see the mecha behind that gleaming monster, but he managed to make out a kneeling form that nodded in agreement. Jack felt sick as he realized that Interceptor was working for this... this... thing.

"Success, my liege."

"Good." Jack's heart beat faster, adrenaline coursing through him, as the golden creature turned to him. "Where is your leader, Autobots?"

He swallowed and stood up. "I... I lead them," he said, licking his lips nervously.

The monster fixed him with a stare. "I was referring to Optimus Prime."

"Oh," Jack said in a small voice. He looked at the others, not really knowing what to do, but they just shrugged. Fine, he thought. First things first: we need information.

"Why should we teel you?" he said out loud. "We don't even know who you are. And considering the way your friend here has treated us," Jack gestured towards Interceptor, "It would probably be better if we didn't tell you."

The abomination made a noise that might've been a chuckle or a growl; Jack couldn't tell. "You speak well, for a human," it said. "Very well. I am the Liege Maximo. And I am here to end this war, one way..." The Liege fixed Jack with another vile glare. "Or another."

The Liege turned and helped Interceptor to his feet. They stood together in front of Jack and the stunned Autobots. "Tell Optimus Prime that if he wants answers," th monstrosity rumbled, "He will join me at these coordinates." The Liege held out a claw, and a globe projected from it. A red dot shown in the middle of the United States. "You have one megacycle," he said, shutting off the projection. Blue-green energy began to crackle over the pair of renegades, teal lightning bolts that grew thicker until they obscured the pair from view. Jack shielded his eyes as another blast of light and heat nearly overwhelmed them. When he was able to look again, the Liege and Interceptor were gone.

On the ridge where the Autobots had hid only minutes earlier, Soundwave stood and watched. He saw the strange robot ask for termination, and the cowardly Autobots refuse. He saw the malevolent golden mecha appear out of thin air, and talk to the Autobots. He saw the coordinates projected.

Soundwave had enough information. He transformed again and flew towards where he knew the Nemesis would be waiting. Megatron would be pleased.

A/N: 1 megacycle=1 hour, approx.

9

"And then he just... disappeared."

Jack sat on the log by the firepit, telling the Autobots what had happened in the desert. Bulkhead was being checked over by Ratchet, while Smokescreen was filling in any parts Jack forgot. They others crouched, or in the case of the humans, sat, nearby, all in various states of incredulity. All but Optimus, who sat listening intently.

"Bots don't just disappear," Miko sad rudely. Then she paused and looked up at Wheeljack. "Do they?"

Jack ignored her and focused instead on Optimus, who was looking graver than he ever had before. Well, except maybe when unicron was waking. Or just a few weeks ago when it seemed like the Decepticons had won. "Who is this guy?" he asked.

"The Liege Maximo," Optimus murmured. He looked at them all. "The Liege Maximo was one of the original thirteen."

The members of Team Prime had seen and heard a lot of things in the last three years. But this was something else all together.

"Wait," Arcee said in surprise, "That doesn't follow. I thought Alpha Trion was the only one left."

"Indeed," Optimus muttered.

"So we're going up against Megatron and someone who can destroy Unicron," Smokescreen whined. "Great."

The group's attention was drawn back to Optimus as their leader slowly got to his feet. "I must go to the coordinates and see for myself this threat," he said. "If it truly is the Liege Maximo, we are facing a much bigger fulmination than ever before."

"But Optimus," Ratchet protested. "You have yet to fully recover! In this state, you could not hope to defeat-"

Optimus cut him off. "I will retreat if battle ensues."

Ratchet looked at him in disbelief. "At least take back up. You have no idea what could be waiting for you!"

Their leader shook his head. "This 'Liege' requested me, and me alone. I will not place anyone else in harms way. Open the ground-bridge."

Reluctantly, the medic keyed in the coordinates provided. A swirling green vortex opened across the yard.

"I shall return," Optimus said, and then walked through.

Optimus Prime was afraid. He had not felt the emotion in so long that it was foreign to him, but there it was. He was greatly weakened, with only one functional limb, and no extra weapons. He had been summoned by a being who proclaimed himself a member of the thirteen, and who seemed an enemy. And more, the terrain was familiar: the canyon in which he had first fought the emmissaries of Unicron. Above him, a sandstorm razed the landscape and obscurred the sky.

He walked to the end of the canyon, where he was met by a blank wall, a slab of impenetrable rock. There was no one here. "Show yourself!" he demanded. The canyon was silent.

A voice hissed out of the shadows. "Optimus Prime. Leader of the Autobots, scourge of the Decepticons. And this is what has become of you. So weak that you sent a human to do your bidding." The voice, deeper than even the Chaos Bringer's, echoed over the rock. "Tell me, did you promise them you would return?" Optimus' optics narrowed. "Or were you honst, and told them that you foresaw your destruction?"

"I foresee no such thing on this day," he replied. "I seek peace with you."

"Peace..." The voice seethed. The shadows shifted, and the golden mecha that Jack had described stepped into view at the tob of the rock slab. Tall, gleaming, dark with shadows, the face of evil, horns sprouting from its neck. A red visor that sucked the spark out of him. "You foreit peace long ago."

Optimus spun in time to see the other mecha, Interceptor, charging towards him. He dodged the attacker's first swing, only to be caught by a blow from the other side. Optimus was stunned, both physically and mentally. He had expected a possible trap, but never had he witnessed such an act of malevolence and deceit. The attack was, as far as he could tell, completely unprovoked. Senseless. And yet, here it was.

Interceptor grasped Optimus by the shoulder and hurled him into the canyon wall. Before he could recover, the new mecha slammed a fist into his midsection. Optimus felt the fear insode of him growing, for the longer this went on, the more it seemed that the golden mecha was right. This day would see his destruction.

Megatron could not believe his optics. Optimus Prime, alive, and in the fight of his life it seemed. If he weren't so angry, the leader of the Decepticons would be laughing.

Soundwave's report was true. Other Cybertronians, aligned with neither side, wishing to destroy both. Megatron had journeyed to the coordinates the one called 'Liege Maximo' had given, and had witnessed the arrival of his enemy from a point atop the cliffs. Now, he settled in to see what would occur next. This day was turning out to be most interesting indeed.

Optimus blocked Interceptor's left hook, but could do nothing about the haymaker he recieved from the right. Alloys groaned but held. Barely. Optimus extended his sword and attempted an attack of his own, but Interceptor merely curled inside of his wings. The mecha spun, the sharpened ends of the limbs carving gouges into the rock, and on his final turn, into Optimus' armor.

They seperated, and Optimus fought the urge to run. He would not die a coward. Instead, he transformed his arm into cannon form, taking aim at Interceptor.

The mecha charge under Optimus' first barrage and tackled him into the ground. The prime's helm knocked aganst a boulder, rattling his processor. Electrons misfired for a while. When his head cleared, Optimus looked up to see Interceptor pointing a cannon, similar to his own, at his faceplate. It was over.

Behind Interceptor, the Liege Maximo leapt to the ground. When he landed, the earth shook. Cracks shot out from the crater. His footsteps crunched loudly over the rock as he walked over to the prime. "Please," Optimus rasped. "We have done nothing to you!"

"Yes, you have," the monstrous being murmured in his deep voice. He raised a hand, and Optimus feared he would strike him, but the Liege simply touched the central panel of his own chest. A red glow oozed outward from the panel, lines of light seeping over his body.

Optimus watched in astonishment as the panels of the Liege's body began to fold away, collapsing in upon themselves. The effect started at the extremeties, then worked its way over the rest of him. Underneath the panels was an entirely different form, smaller, lighter... female.

The femme was light red, the same color as Miko's hair, with bright teal highlights. Orange optics glared at him with a hatred that he had never seen, even in Megatron, from a face that was startlingly familiar. Excepting her color, the femme that was unveiled as the golden armor collpased could have been Arcee's twin.

She held the Liege Maximo armor in one hand, and withdrew a strange shield from her back with the other. She laughed, a disturbingly high pitched noise compared to the earlier voice, and said in a voice like silk, "What's the matter Optimus? Forgotten me already?"

His optics couldn't widen in shock any more. It was painful to have the metal around them streetched so far. Her voice, her frame, were exactly as he remembered. But it was impossible for her to be alive, much less here on Earth. "Aelita One..." he breathed, and she smiled cruelly.

A/N: dun dun duuuuuuuuuun! Bwah ha ha ha ha ha! To be continued!

A/N: I've already gotten two reviews about her name. I changed it on purpose. Please, no more.