Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Hardhead poked the dirty, blackened, broken body of Outback and said, “I guess that explains a few things.”

Two days after the attack and the Autobots were still trying to clean up after the rogue Autobot attack. Three of the rogue Autobots were dead, but the rest had escaped with a large quantity of ore. “It still doesn’t explain the attack on Topspin and Powerglide,” Nightbeat responded. He and the forensics team had arrived only hours ago.

“Why not?”

“Those pieces of material don’t look they could have come from rogue Autobots,” the investigator responded.

“The composition of the those materials from Topspin and Powerglide’s assailant is not Cybertronian alloy,” Perceptor chimed in.

“So there were two completely different attacks on this colony? Why?” Hardhead demanded, his anger building.

Jetfire stepped in between him and the forensics team before a fight could break out. The Striking Eagle had been used to deliver the team to Wayward, so even though Jetfire had no experience solving crimes he got to tag along for the ride. “Look, for now let’s just assume the incidents are not related. What’s your theory, Nightbeat?”

“I think whoever the first attackers were, they weren’t after ore. They easily overpowered Topspin and Powerglide, so they could have gotten to the convoy and stolen the ore if they had wanted to. Also, the tracks from the attackers don’t make a very deep impression, meaning that they aren’t that heavy. I doubt they could have stolen the ore if they had wanted to.”

“What I’d have to conclude is one of two theories. The two attacks could be completely unrelated, with the separate groups not knowing of each other’s plans. Or the first attack could have been to soften up the colony for the rogue Autobot raid. Which means that Magnus and his friends could have run into some allies wherever they’ve been hiding. Just because of the timing, I’d have to say that the second theory makes more sense.”

“Yes, but the first attack put us on alert so we were more prepared for the second. Wouldn’t it have been easier to just launch their attack without preamble?” Hardhead asked. Jetfire could see that another fight was about to start and made sure to keep himself between Hardhead and Nightbeat.

“They did take out all of your air support in the first attack. They nailed Powerglide in the attack and afterwards were able to bring down Over-Run and keep him out of the fight. Had you had that air support, the fight would have been even more one-sided.”

Hardhead rubbed his chin in thought and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, they were able to get a third of our supply of ore. That’s about 20,000 tons of the stuff.”

Jetfire took a step away from Hardhead, wondering what Magnus would do with all that ore. None of it was processed, which would mean he would have to somehow refine it into a usable quantity. “Pipes, check the database for the closest refinery.”

“Vala Four. That’s one of the planets handed to the ‘Cons.”

“See if you can reach them and advise them that they may come under attack. Then get me a connection with Cybertron. Prowl needs to know about this right away.”

“Rogue Autobots?” Kup asked incredulously. “Where did Magnus get the ball bearings to launch a raid this deep in our territory?”

“He’s desperate. Desperate enough to take this gamble,” Prowl replied. “What about the Decepticons on Vala Four?”

“They haven’t responded to our hails yet,” Jetfire replied from the Wayward colony.

“Warn the human ships in the area that an Autobot ship could be heading their way. If so, I don’t want it to leave the system.”

“I’m on it.” Jetfire signalled to Pipes, who began to send the signal. “Do you want the Striking Eagle to search for them?”

Prowl thought about it for a long time, which to his ultra-fast processors was a second. “Affirmative, but I want you to keep some of the Raptors there in case they try to hit the planet again. It’s unlikely, but the colony is in bad enough shape as is without making it worse.”

“I got it. I’ll stay here and have Arcee see if she can find anything.”

“Good. Keep me posted.” The connection broke and Jetfire activated his comlink.

“Arcee, I need you to send a shuttle down with Landmine, Gears, and Siren. Then take the rest of the Raptors and the Eagle and see if you can find the rogue Autobots.”

“I’m on it. You staying down there?” Arcee asked.

“Yes.” Jetfire could hear the hurt in Arcee’s voice at the mention of rogue Autobots and wished he could say something to her, but there was nothing he could do in public. Later he would have to talk with her.

“All right. Good luck.”

“Good hunting.” Jetfire broke the connection and turned to Hardhead. “Is Over-Run back on duty?”

“Not yet. We’re still repairing most of his singed armor. His helicopter’s slag anyway.”

“I’ll take recon duty then. Keep your sensors tuned for spark activity and Perceptor, keep a look-out for anything suspicious.” Perceptor’s microscope would be able to spot enemies before anyone else if the sensors didn’t pick anything up. Jetfire stepped outside and transformed, taking to the air. He just hoped that the rogue Autobots would be captured so they could finally get some help.

***
Chandler heard the red alert klaxons go off and sprinted to the bridge of the Prometheus. “What’s going on?” He demanded.

Captain Kyle Hunter answered, “An Autobot ship is approaching. They’re refusing our hails. We’ve got word from Wayward that a rogue Autobot ship is in the area, this could be them.”

“Status of the other ships?”

“The Invincible, Washington, and Avenger are closing on the ship.” The Invincible was a cruiser like the Prometheus, the Avenger a destroyer, and the Washington a frigate. Two cruisers, a destroyer, and a frigate should be more than a match for one Autobot ship.

“Sir, we’re reading weapons power-up from the Autobot vessel,” the weapons officer reported.

“Order all ships to ready weapons and shields,” Hunter ordered. Chandler took a spare seat, resigning himself as an observer.

“Enemy units deploying!”

“Launch fighters and order all hands to prepare for boarding.” Hangar bays on the three larger ships opened and scores of wedge-shaped fighters spewed out into space. Despite the best efforts of designers, the fighters were more of a diversionary tactic than anything else. Unless a fighter scored a lucky hit or worked in cooperation with several other fighters, it was unlikely that one could take a Transformer down.

The three human ships closed on the rogue Autobot vessel, preparing to fire. Hunter wanted to get in as close as possible before firing to make the barrage more effective, and to give the Autobots time to surrender. “Open the comlink,” Hunter ordered. “Autobot ship, this is Captain Kyle Hunter of the Prometheus. We have you surrounded. Unless you power down your weapons and recall your units we will be forced to fire upon you.”

“No response,” the communications officer said after several long moments.

“Order all units...” Before Hunter could give the order, all of the weapons on the Autobot ship fired. Most Autobot ships were lightly armed, with just a few laser cannons and plasma cannons, but the rogue Autobot ship had been jury-rigged so that weapons great and small covered almost every inch of the hull.

The hellish fury unleashed by the Autobot ship vaporized the Washington instantly. The Invincible and Avenger took heavy damage, the Avenger losing main power and having to switch to emergency power to limp away from the enemy ship. Hunter was thrown from his seat as the Prometheus was rocked violently. It was not hit as bad as the other ships, but had still sustained some damage. “Damage report!”

“Shield systems down, decks 25 through 23 are breached, forward weapons systems are mostly gone.”

“Can we hit them?”

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied with enthusiasm.

“Good. Turn her to the starboard side so we can get maximum effect.” The Prometheus slowly began to turn so that it was aligned for a broadside. “Fire!” The starboard side of the cruiser was bathed in red light as the weapons on that side opened fire.

The Autobot ship was hit up and down the port side, sustaining heavy damage. The ship was already in bad shape, so the damage was made even worse. On the bridge of the ship, called the Independence by its crew, Ultra Magnus heard the damage report and frowned. Most of the weapons were fried, the rear armor was breached, two engines were off-line, gravity and life support were sporatic, and the list continued from there. It was obvious that even though the humans were damaged they would still be able to triumph. There would be no capturing the ore processing facility on Vala Four. “Get us out of here,” Magnus commanded.

His second-in-command, Repugnus, protested, “Sir, shouldn’t we recover the units we launched?”

“We don’t have the time. Get us moving out of here, immediately!” Repugnus nodded and carried out the orders. Magnus looked out at battle between the human fighters and his units. He hated to lose troops, but he had no choice. The Independence began backing away from the Prometheus, which moved to block it. Magnus activated the comlink to contact the units fighting in space. “Cover our retreat so that we can continue the struggle to restore our true leader.”

“For the glory of Rodimus!” Cosmos shouted. He blasted a human fighter and maneuvered towards the Prometheus. The remaining two units, Swerve and Warpath, both equipped with jetpacks, followed him. The human fighters pursued as the three Autobots bore down on the Prometheus.

“The Autobot ship is retreating. They haven’t recovered their units, though.”

“Don’t let them escape,” Hunter replied.

Swerve was hit by a flock of missiles and blown in half. He kept flying for a few seconds and then exploded in a short-lived ball of flame. Cosmos concentrated on the Prometheus, jinking to avoid fire the ship and its fighters put up. Seeing what the two Autobots were up to, the human fighters began firing madly with everything they had. Warpath was hit in the arm and leg and spun around, firing his tank gun. The shell hit one fighter and caused it to hit its wingman, taking both out. A rain of missiles tore Warpath to pieces, but he had succeeded in buying Cosmos some time.

The flying saucer sped at the bridge of the Prometheus, its weapons firing. Cosmos knew that he would die, but it was all for the glorious cause. His death would help ensure the glorious resurrection of Rodimus Prime, the true leader of the Autobots. He was hit on the left side by three missiles, which sent him spinning to the right. He was nearing the hull of the ship, but was misaligned for a proper shot.

“Remaining craft appears to be on a suicide run.”

“Concentrate firepower on it, bring that thing down!” Hunter bit out, his stomach churning in anxiety.

The remaining forward batteries of the Prometheus opened fire, but missed Cosmos, who was still bearing down on it. He had managed to regain control and swung himself towards the ship’s bridge. His weapons were gone, but he still had one weapon left: himself. He aligned himself for a kamikaze run and streaked in towards the bridge. The weapons from the fighters and the ship tracked him and just before impact Cosmos was hit by a laser blast. It sent him spinning to the left, so that he smashed into the ship just above the bridge. He exploded in a fireball and then there was silence once more.

The bridge was dark and debris was everywhere. A good portion of the ceiling had been taken out from the collision and many of the computer terminals were sparking. Hunter stood up slowly and looked around the bridge as emergency lights came on. The damage was bad, but not as bad as he had feared. Most of the crew was shaken up, but still alive. Hunter himself had a cut above his left eye and on his left arm. He began to take stock of things and heard some gasp in alarm.

“Sir, the president is hurt bad!” Hunter stumbled across the bridge, blood running into his eye as he did so. Chandler was slumped in his seat, debris lodged in his right side from when the terminal he had been sitting near exploded. Blood was running down his body, but he was still breathing and had a weak pulse.

“Medical teams are on the way!”

“Keep the president where he is until the medical teams get here. We don’t know the extent of his injuries,” Hunter said.

“Sir, we’re receiving a hail from the Striking Eagle, an Autobot ship.” At least the comlink still works, Hunter thought and made his way across the bridge. The transmission was audio only as the visual systems were down.

“Prometheus, this is the Striking Eagle. Do you require assistance?” Arcee asked.

“Striking Eagle, this is Captain Hunter on the Prometheus. Our damage is under control. Can you persue the raiders?”

Arcee looked over at Chromedome, who shook his head. “Negative.”

“Just keep an eye on things then until we’ve effected repairs.”

“Will do.” The transmission ended and Hunter sighed. The raiders had destroyed one ship, damaged the other three, and injured the president. There’s going to be hell to pay, he thought gloomily.

***

On all holoprojection channels, programming was stopped to show the press room of Confederated Hall. Margaret Cummings took the podium, looking grief-stricken. She looked around the room at the full house of reporters and began her announcement. “We have just received word from the Vala system. The president’s ship, the Prometheus, and three other Confederation ships were attacked by a rogue Autobot vessel. One of the ships was destroyed and the other three were badly damaged.”

“I regret to inform you all that the president was injured in the attack. He is alive, but unconscious, having survived the operation to repair the damage. The Prometheus is undergoing repairs and is still in the system, but we have sent the nearest task force to help with repairs and protect them if there is a reocurrence of the incident. The president will be incapacitated for several weeks, during which time Vice-President Shale will assume his duties.” Cummings stopped to take questions and pointed to a reporter.

“What was the president doing in the Vala system, isn’t that Cybertronian territory?”

“The president had ordered three ships to stay in the system to monitor the Decepticon colonies there. On his way back from his recent trip to Cybertron he decided to visit the ships and assess the situation there.” The stop had not been planned, but Chandler had told her that he needed to do it to boost morale. Looks like that backfired. Cummings stared at the waving hands and the image of vultures circling a corpse came to mind. She turned and left the podium, not looking back.

***

Hoover stood at a podium in the board room of Ecotronics, Inc., one of the many companies she owned. Ecotronics produced circuits and other electrical products that were recycled from older components. Hoover had decided to call the press conference here because Ecotronics was entirely based on Earth, so it symbolized Earth’s independence. The room was packed with reporters and cameras and the speech was being carried live on every major news network.

“Ladies and gentlemen, as you no doubt have heard, President Chandler was badly injured in an attack by a rogue Autobot unit. In the days since then, many people have asked whether I will continue to demand that all Transformers leave our territory, because the president was willing to make such a sacrifice to aid our allies in their time of need. Until now I have given no response, but now I am finally ready to do so.”

“President Chandler had no right to be in the Vala system. He was visiting Earth forces under his command which had been sent there to babysit three colonies the Autobots had handed over to the Decepticons. Cybertronian system, Cybertronian colonies, Cybertronian attackers, why were Earth forces there to defend it? We have no interests, strategic or otherwise in the Vala system. It is completely illogical that we should have been there in the first place.”

“President Chandler is a brave man and wants to help our allies, but I say that enough is enough. It’s time that we are independent of each other. Let the Cybertronians deal with their own uprisings and we in turn will deal with our own. If the Autobots want to give colonies to their enemies, let them babysit them. Our forces should be where they are needed most: in our territory. Terra for Terrans and Cybertron for Cybertronians. If the Autobots need troops, then they can pull them from our territory. We are capable of defending ourselves. Humans were born into freedom, let us remain that way. In the name of President Chandler and all those killed in the Vala system I call upon our representatives to demand the removal of all Cybertronian troops from Confederation territory.” Hoover stared at the crowd and looked at the sea of raised hands. She turned and strode out of the room as reporters shouted questions at her. A grand entrance like that would make her speech seem even more powerful than it was. Once she was in her hoverlimo speeding away she smiled and poured herself a glass of champagne. The Vala incident couldn’t have been better timed. Sometimes Fate just deals you a good hand, she thought and headed back for her office.

***

Camshaft looked worriedly at the displays showing the outer perimeter of the Autobot base in Cleveland. Hundreds of humans were just outside the gates, carrying signs and chanting slogans. The exact phrases differed, but the theme was the same: they wanted the Autobots gone. “What do we do, sir?” Searchlight asked.

“Not much we can do,” Camshaft replied. “Are they making any threatening moves?”

“Not yet. They’re just holding signs, no weapons.”

“Then let them be. Perhaps they’ll tire of this and go back to their homes.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Downshift, his second-in-command grumbled. “All positions report that the humans are really agitated. It won’t be long until something happens.”

“Have all guards report inside at once and stand down all defensive systems. Unless Megatron’s ghost shows up I don’t want any shots fired.” Downshift nodded and relayed the orders.

The four guards posted outside of the base’s main complex hurried inside and all of the outpost’s automatic defenses were deactivated. Camshaft knew that bloodshed of any kind would deal a death blow to the human-Cybertronian alliance. He was determined not to let it happen, no matter the cost. The Autobots sat down and watched the monitors to see what the humans would do.

Five hours later, it was just getting dark and the humans were still at the front gates. A couple of people had brought flashlights for most of the crowd. The chants continued and candles were lit in memory of those who had died in the Vala system. Camshaft continued to watch the spectacle, admiring human resolve, but wishing the mob would disperse. “Bloody hell, when are these humans going to leave?” He asked out loud.

“When they get their way,” Downshift replied and handed Camshaft a cup of hot oil. Camshaft stared at it and looked at Downshift quizzically. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Camshaft shrugged and gulped down the cup. The oil soothed his joints and left a warm feeling inside of him. “Wherever did you learn about this?”

“Humans have hot drinks like coffee and hot chocolate that supposedly make them feel better when they are worried or tired. I figured the same would work with oil for our systems.”

“Ingenious. These humans really are wonderful creatures. I wish they wouldn’t be so hard on us and see that we are only trying to help.”

Downshift sat down next to Camshaft and stared at the display. “I agree with the humans. They should be allowed to live their lives without our interfering. It was our interference that got them involved in the war in the first place. If they want to be free, then it is right. ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’. Remember when we used to actually believe that?”

Camshaft smiled, knowing that of all the Autobots he had ever served with, Downshift was the one who knew him best and knew how to get his point across eloquently. “I still do believe that, but freedom at what price? The rogue Autobot attack on Wayland and the Vala system just shows how vulnerable we all are. Just because raiders haven’t hit Earth doesn’t mean they couldn’t.”

“We are not the self-appointed guardians of the human race. They have fought well enough that we should let them to their own devices. They have survived the Decepticon occupation of their world, they can manage on their own.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Even so, our opinions don’t matter. We have our orders.” Prowl had ordered that the Cleveland outpost be held at all costs. The outpost was a vital communications link between Earth and Cybertron. If the humans controlled it, then they would have almost total control of communications between Earth and Cybertron. It was a strategically sound order, but it didn’t take the rights of the humans into account. Typical of Prowl, Camshaft thought angrily. “We should do something, try to calm them down.”

“That will only enrage them more. They don’t want to talk to us, we have to give them time to let their anger subside.”

Before Camshaft could reply, Searchlight called out, “Sir, we have humans climbing over the walls in Sector 2!”

Camshaft hurried over and saw that several humans were using ropes and climbing gear to scale the massive walls. They were on their way down and Camshaft knew what they were after. He looked around and activated the comlink. “Flak, take your squad and get those humans away from here. Do not discharge any weapons.”

“Yes, sir,” the Micromaster replied. The four military vehicles rumbled out of the base and headed for the humans.

“Do you think this is wise?” Downshift asked.

“No, but I can’t let them damage this base. I know from the satchels in their hands that these are saboteurs, probably carrying primitive bombs to destroy our communications relays. Hopefully the Micromasters can get them away from here without injuring the humans. At the very least they won’t crush them by accidentally stepping on them. I just hope this doesn’t start a riot.” Downshift nodded doubtfully and hoped for the best.

Harold Grimes was in the lead of the five person saboteur unit hastily assembled. They all carried black duffel bags full of pipe bombs, which would at the least damage the communications arrays on the base and send a message to the robots that it was time for them to go back where they belonged. Grimes had once been a special forces officer in the Confederated Army, but that was years ago. Despite having lost a lot of hair and gained a lot of weight in that time he found his reflexes and instincts to still be top-notch.

The arrays were clustered behind the barracks where atennae and satellite dishes stood forlornly in the night sky. Those arrays could send powerful signals quickly through the Solar System and be redirected to Cybertron in only hours. Without the arrays it would take much longer for messages from Earth to reach Cybertron, which would put the robots at a strategic disadvantage if war did break out between the humans and the robots. Grimes saw that they were rounding the barracks and would soon be at their target.

Searchlights lit up the area and the saboteurs stopped in their tracks, blinded. A gray and green robot, only a couple of feet taller than Grimes, stepped forward. “This is United Cybertronian Government property. You are ordered to leave at once,” Flak said.

“This is not your property,” Grimes growled. Then he raised his voice and shouted, “This is Earth, our planet! All of this is ours! And you are trespassing!”

The shouts were heard outside the walls and the crowd took up the chant, “Terra for Terrans!” Many of them grabbed rocks, sticks, or whatever weapons were handy and began scaling the walls.

Flak activated his comlink and said calmly, “We have a situation. It appears as though a riot is breaking out. What are your orders?”

“Inspect those bags and take them if they are weapons. Then get back inside,” Camshaft replied.

Flak grabbed the bag Grimes was holding and looked inside. As Camshaft had suspected, primitive explosives were inside. He confiscated the rest of the bags and told Grimes, “Get out of here. If you come back, you will be arrested.”

Now weaponless, Grimes stared angrily at the robot. Instead of backing away he picked up a rock and hurled it at Flak’s face. It struck him in the center of the head and Flak took a step back in surprise. He could see a mass of humans heading towards his squad, looking like a mass of angry bees coming to get an invader of the hive. “Fall back!” The other three Autobots began heading back for base, but the humans were quicker. They swarmed around the Autobots, who transformed to avoid being overturned by the unruly mob.

“What do we do?” Big Shot asked.

“Try and get back to base,” Flak called out as humans swarmed all around him, beating him with crowbars, tire irons, sticks, pipes, and all manner of other substances.

“Easier said then done,” Sidetrack shouted. Humans had climbed onto his shoulders and were tearing at him. One smashed Sidetrack’s right eye with a pipe. Sidetrack wobbled and collapsed to the ground like a statue, remaining unmoving.

Flak felt hands tearing to free the black bags and raised them over his head. He tried to wade through the crowd, but dozens of humans began pushing against him, trying to topple him. He looked over and could see Sunrunner and Big Shot facing similar problems. Flak lost sight of his comrades as a trio of burly humans arrived and managed to push the Autobot over. As the confusion continued to swirl around him, Flak’s mech fluid went cold when he heard the sound of an Autobot hyperpulse laser being fired.

No one knew who fired the shot, not even the Autobots themselves. However, the shot struck part of the crowd and killed nearly a dozen of them instantly. The mob became more enraged and Flak heard another, smaller shot fired from a human weapon. The shot struck one of the bags Flak was holding and he knew that the explosives were about to go off. He managed to roll over and closed his eyes as all five bags exploded.

Had Flak not rolled over, the explosion would have killed much of the mob, but as it was, less than a handful were injured, none very severely. The mob continued to press its attack, and someone who had somehow gotten a sledgehammer over the wall began pounding on Sunrunner’s face. The Autobot screamed in pain and shouted, “Why are you doing this? We are your friends!”

Before the violence could escalate a jet appeared overhead. It hovered over the Autobots and a hand extended from the pilot. Overload, a Micromaster who had a trailer that could transform into a jet, managed to pull Sunrunner up. Then he maneuvered over to Big Shot and Sidetrack. He could see that recovering Flak would have to wait, as his fellow Micromaster was is in several pieces at the moment. He roared higher into the sky and swiftly landed inside of the Autobot base. The doors sealed and Camshaft looked at Downshift in defeat. “Our former friends have turned on us. Have all troops make ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I suspect it won’t be long now.”

Downshift nodded and Camshaft headed for the repair bay, where Overload had taken the others. Once the mob left Flak would have to be recovered. The base’s sensors detected that his spark was in stasis so he was in little danger for the moment. At least the arrays aren’t damaged yet, Camshaft thought as he watched the mob. Since the functional Autobots had left, the mob was left at a loss and began tending to its wounded. They knew that sticks, stones, and clubs would not have any effect on the communications equipment that was built to withstand almost anything.

Camshaft turned to the communications station to send a signal to Cybertron. He would have to explain the situation and await further instuctions, but he already knew what his orders would ultimately be: abandon the base and head for Cybertron on the first transport. No matter what happened, there was no hope of maintaining the Autobot presence on Earth. And that meant that the planet would be vulnerable to rogue Autobots, Decepticons, or anything else. I hope these humans are as strong as Downshift thinks, Camshaft thought as he began to send his message.

***

“This is just what we needed right now,” Prowl grumbled as he read the latest report from Earth. “Are you sure this is accurate?”

“As near as I can tell,” Kup replied. “Ten humans were killed when an Autobot weapon was discharged. They were demonstrating about wanting our troops off of Earth and things turned ugly. Commander Camshaft did what he could, but the humans tried to sabotage the communications arrays. When Camshaft sent a squad of Micromasters to stop them a riot broke out.”

“So it’s no one’s fault really, except for the humans.”

“That’s a cold way to see it, but yes.”

Prowl turned in his chair and stared out at Iacon. He wished Optimus was here right now to deal with the situation. Despite the attitudes of many humans, Optimus was still a hero to much of the population of Earth. He would be able to deal with the situation much more easily. He turned back to Kup and ordered slowly, “Order all troops in human territory that they are under confinement to their respective bases. I don’t want any contact with humans until this situation is resolved.”

“I don’t think this situation can be resolved.”

“Neither do I.” Kup nodded and left the room, leaving Prowl alone. He activated the comlink and called Jazz.

“What’s shaking, Prowl?” Jazz asked.

“We’ve got problems. There was a riot at the outpost on Cleveland. Ten humans were killed when one of our troops opened fire. I’ve ordered all of our forces in human territory to remain inside their bases, but we’ve got to talk with the human leaders and try to clear this up.”

“Right. I’ll call Vice-President Shale and see what I can do.”

“You do that. I think we’ll have to do more, though.”

“I know. Have a ship ready to take us to Earth. We’ll have to see if we can smooth things over.”

“All right. We’ll leave as soon as you’re aboard.” Prowl broke the connection and sighed. He knew that the humans would not let this matter die quietly. They were a very emotional, illogical people. That was a strength sometimes, but it was also a weakness. Right now he knew it would be a weakness. Prowl wished Optimus were back once again as he arranged transport for he and Jazz.

***

Optimus Prime reclined in the pilot’s seat of the Discovery and sighed. It felt good to finally be away from all of the trouble in the universe. The ship had blasted off only two days before and was only a few light years from Cybertron, but it felt like much farther to Optimus. After millions of years of commanding an army, I can finally go back to just commanding myself, he thought.

Of course there was one other he could command and she was sitting in the back of the cockpit, with her customary scowl on her face. Optimus turned to her and said, “You should try and relax at some point, Nighthawk. This is going to be a long trip.”

“I am relaxed,” Nighthawk replied crisply. She folded her arms across her chest and rested her legs on a terminal. “See?”

“Better. We’ll be reaching the edge of Cybertronian space in two weeks. From there on out we’ll be on our own.”

“I still don’t like this. We won’t have any reinforcements should we run into trouble.”

“Then we’ll have to hope that we don’t run into trouble. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be all the protection I’m supposed to need?”

“Touche,” Nighthawk replied. She reached back and pulled out her hyperpulse rifle. It felt good in her hands and she knew that she hadn’t used it in quite some time. Noting that Optimus was looking at her strangely she put the weapon away. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I was created after the war began, what was Cybertron like before that?”

Optimus stared up at the ceiling and thought back to millions of years ago, when there had been no Autobots or Decepticons. “There weren’t any factions, no Autobots or Decepticons. Everyone lived in peace and harmony for the most part. Cybertron consisted of many independent city-states, which would sometimes war against each other. The wars would not last long, though, because eventually the cities would negotiate settlements. I think those divisions are what drove the war once it began.”

He sighed and thought about all the good times he had had during the Golden Age of Cybertron. “Things were so peaceful that you didn’t have to carry a weapon of any kind. There were no curfews or energon shortages. You could spend a day with your friends walking around without fear of enemy patrols. Science and technology thrived and there were very few professional soldiers. We could do as we are now, exploring and finding answers to some of life’s greatest mysteries.”

“Do you think we can ever recapture those days?”

“Not entirely, no. Our contact with humans has changed many things, it has made the galaxy a much bigger place for us. Hopefully, though, our descendants will be able to enjoy a peaceful existence because of all we have fought for. I don’t think there can be a return of the Golden Age in my lifetime. Old scars will take a long time to heal, especially for those who no other life except war.”

Nighthawk thought about it for a moment and nodded. “I have found that I am having a hard time getting used to this peace.”

“I’ve noticed. In time perhaps you will. Perhaps we all will.” He turned away and stared out the front of the cockpit, watching the stars fly by. As much as he loved peace, he had to admit that there was a part of him that loved battling Decepticons. He only hoped that he could learn to live without it while he was out here.

***

A small ship touched down in the Amazon jungle. James and Marshall climbed out, carrying a disk with all of the changes they wanted to make to the Barracuda design. James stuck his identification card into a slot and ran it through. Once the card checked out the door to the factory opened. Marshall followed suit, the door requiring that every person entering had to identify themselves.

They walked down a winding, white corridor until they reached another door. They swiped their cards through again and the doors opened to the factory floor. The purpose of the white corridor was to monitor everyone coming in, which is why numerous cameras were built into the walls. The factory was a large open space packed with assembly robots and human workers. James watched with satisfaction as the torso of an Executioner was hoisted onto the legs by a crane.

They walked up a flight of stairs to Koromi’s small office. Like his office in Tokyo, it was very spartan with just a few books and a couple of tropical flowers as the only decoration. Koromi sat in a large leather chair and smiled at their approach. “Simon, Celia, this is an unexpected surprise. How did the testing go?”

“The pods took heavy casualties, but downed two Autobots. We’ve designed some modifications that should help to eliminate the weaknesses,” James replied as he sat down. He leaned forward and scooped a small handful of raisins out of a bowl Koromi left on his desk.

Koromi leaned back in his chair and turned to face the factory. “Ms. Hoover has ordered us to step up production in light of the Cleveland Massacre. She expects us to have an entire regiment up inside of a week.” He faced James and Marshall again and sighed. “You want me to stop production and retool now?”

James smiled and held out one of the raisins. “This raisin looks much like Earth after the war, dried up and used. This is because the Autobots brought their war to our planet, ravaging it. Now we have the chance to take Earth back and restore her. Not just Earth, but the entire solar system. To do that we are going to need a lot of power, power that the Barracudas and Executioners can provide. They have to be at their best if we are to win this fight.”

Marshall threw James a sidelong glance and thought of how clever his little speech was. Koromi was a deep environmentalist, which is why he had raisins on his desk, the raisin analogy would undoubtedly hit home. “You’re right, Simon,” Koromi replied. “We must be at our best to free mother Earth of these unnatural creatures that have invaded her. I will stop production immediately and give your design changes to the foreman. Hoover will be upset, but I’ll handle her.”

“Thank-you, Takashi. Tell Hoover that I’ll be in my lab, working on a new prototype.”

“A new prototype? The Executioners and Barracudas seem well-suited to our needs.”

“I am aware of that, but I’ve got three corpses in my lab, two of which are dissected already, but the third may help me further my research as it was stronger than the previous two. I am close to unraveling the secrets of the Transformers, and when I do, we will have the ultimate weapons to strike back at them with.”

Koromi and Marshall were both taken aback by the fervor of what James had said. Marshall knew that James hated the Transformers as much as Koromi loved Earth, but the hate in his words was so evident that it was scary. James stood up and left, but Marshall remained for a few moments longer. “When will you have all of the machines ready?” She asked.

“With the changes, I’d say about two weeks.”

“Good. I’ll begin getting the pilots trained on them. James has already worked up a simulator program, so they’ll be able to get used to the machines before they arrive.”

“Excellent. Everything is coming together now.”

“Yes it is.” Marshall left for James’s ship to fly back to Toronto. She had already hand-picked the pilots herself. They were the best fighter and bomber pilots as well as tank and infantry soldiers. Within two weeks they would be the first unit ever to use the machines James had designed.

***

Acting president Ralph Shale checked his schedule with growing despair. Almost all of his meetings concerned the Cleveland incident in some way, an incident Shale didn’t want to deal with at the moment. He punched the intercom for his secretary and she entered his spacious, lavish office. “Who is this first group I’m supposed to be meeting?”

“The Human Coalition. It’s a new group created by Reverend Vince Phillips, Mark McDougal, and Grace Jackson. I assume you know all of them?”

“McDougal and Jackson contributed to my campaign a few years back. Isn’t Phillips the reverend who ran for president after the occupation?”

“Yes, sir. Should I send them in?”

“Fine. May as well get things started on the wrong foot.” The secretary left and let in two men and a woman. One man wore a black suit with a white collar, which meant he had to be Phillips. Shale recognized McDougal and Jackson, although he hadn’t seen them in years. “Welcome, it’s good to see you. Have a seat and we’ll get started.”

The three sat down and Shale faced them. Before he could ask what brought them to his office, Phillips began to speak in his loud, baritone voice. “Mr. President, we are here on a matter of utmost importance. As you know, ten innocent human beings were slaughtered in Cleveland at the hands of our Autobot oppressors.” It was an exaggeration from the reports Shale had read, but he decided not to haggle over the details.

“Now, those of us in the Human Coalition, some five hundred thousand strong, consider ourselves reasonable people. Unlike other groups we are not shouting for blood, or oil in the case of the robotic demons. We do not want to have any of the Autobots harmed, we merely want them immediately deported from our space. As well, every Autobot unit should vacate our space over the next two months, at their expense. Human ships should escort the Autobots out, but we should not have to transport them.”

“That would take every Autobot ship in the galaxy,” Shale protested.

“So what? They have nothing to fear except their own rogue brothers. Let them deal with their problems themselves.”

“As President Chandler has said, we are allies. Forcing them to leave their colonies with no protection is definitely not something that one ally does to another.”

Phillips was going to speak, but Jackson cut in. “Mr. President, we understand that, but our ships were attacked without cause and our president injured when we came to their aid. If anyone has not been a good ally, it is them.”

Shale sighed and scanned the three people before him. “And what if I don’t force the Autobots to leave?”

McDougal fielded the question, “Sir, as you know, we are three people with a lot of media connections. We can make a lot of noise if we want to.” Shale knew that was coming: McDougal ran a conservative newspaper in New York, Jackson hosted a popular political talk show on CBN, and while he hadn’t met him, Shale knew that Phillips was the sort who could whip crowds into a frenzy. If he challenged them, Shale would face a grilling in the media.

“The United Cybertronian representatives are on their way. I will present your proposal to them.” Ultimatum was more the word Shale had in mind, but he knew better than to say it.

“Thank-you, Mr. President, you are a truly understanding individual,” Phillips smiled a wolfish grin and left. Shale sighed once the door closed and punched the intercom.

“Cancel the next appointments and get the Cybertronian ambassador in here now.”

“I’ll make sure she’s here yesterday, sir,” the secretary replied cheerfully.

“Yesterday wouldn’t have been any better,” Shale grumbled.

The Cybertronian ambassador ducked and stepped into Shale’s office. Pacifa was a Micromaster, thus she could fit in human-sized areas, one of the reasons she had been chosen for the job. “Madame Ambassador, it’s good to see you again,” Shale greeted, not bothering to get up.

“I assume you called me about the Cleveland incident?” Pacifa replied, remaining standing because she couldn’t fit in the human-sized chairs.

“Yes, of course.” Shale reached into his desk and pulled out a cigar. He lit it and turned back to Pacifa. “I’ve got some bad news for you. Various groups have been demanding an Autobot withdrawal from human space, including Earth. I haven’t said anything definite yet, but they are bringing a lot of pressure to bear.”

Pacifa stared at the acting human president with contempt. She knew that Chandler would never have even considered a withdrawal. He was a veteran of the war, he knew the threat the Decepticons posed even in peacetime. Shale, however, was a politician who had been playing the game for almost forty years. “I haven’t been in recent contact with Jazz, but I know that he does not want a withdrawal of our troops. The rogue Autobot attack proves that this is still a violent universe.”

“The attack was by your people in your space. I doubt that rogue Autobots have much interest in Earth. Still, I know that we are not properly prepared to defend ourselves. Perhaps some kind of technological exchange to develop new weapons to make Earth self-sufficient and a slow withdrawal would appease most groups.”

“Perhaps. And what would the United Cybertronian Government commit to this plan?”

“Besides technological knowledge, your government would remove its troops with its ships at its expense. The rest of the costs would be costs would be paid for by your treasury as reparations for the ten lives lost in Cleveland.”

“So in other words we are to provide you with technology and pay for an enormous project by ourselves?”

“That’s right. I know it seems a little unfair, but I’m sure you understand what we’re dealing with here. It’s either this or your government leaves Earth high and dry in case the Decepticons show up.”

Pacifa knew that Shale had her over the proverbial barrel. The United Cybertronian Government could not just leave Earth unprotected, it was not only against policy, but personal philosophy. “I can’t commit to anything now, but I will inform my superiors of this proposal.”

“Good. I’m glad we have an understanding, Ambassador.”

“So am I. Good day, sir.” Pacifa turned and said under her breath, “To the inferno with you, slimeball.”

Shale took a hearty puff on his cigar and smiled. He was impressed with the deal his secretary had suggested, it was just might work. Hoover, Phillips, and the rest would get their withdrawal and Earth’s army would become a powerhouse rivaling Cybertron’s. Things were starting to look up.

***

The only light in the top of the Incan pyramid was from the bank of monitors on one wall. Ambush stared disinterestedly at the monitors. Each one showed a human protest around an Autobot installation in cities all over the world. An enormous crowd carrying candles, flowers, and wreaths was gathered around the Autobot base in Cleveland, site of the massacre of ten humans. In Toronto a smaller, but similar crowd was assembled outside of the Autobot embassy. Ambush shut the monitors off and activated the base’s computer. “Calculate the odds, given current data, of an Autobot withdrawal from Earth,” Ambush ordered. He waited for the results and wasn’t surprised by what he saw. There was a 96.3% chance of a withdrawal and the odds were rising exponentially with each new protest.

He knew that soon the Autobots would have no choice but to cave in to human demands. The humans would press their leaders to press the Autobot and United Cybertronian leaders to withdraw all forces immediately from human-held space. That would lead to ultimatums issued by the humans to force the Autobots to comply. Thus Prowl and Jazz would have no choice but to give in, despite the repercussions. Decepticons would not tolerate this, Ambush thought gloomily to himself. Megatron would never have allowed the humans to rule their own government in the first place, and all protests would have been crushed immediately, just like during the occupation of Earth. Ambush thought of those dark times and knew that Earth could soon be reliving them. Without Autobots to protect it, a Decepticon or rogue Autobot invasion could easily take Earth.

Except of course, for those strange human machines, those walking tanks. While not equal to a Transformer in firepower or maneuverability, those machines could do damage in a significant number. “Activate security cameras in Omega sector,” Ambush commanded and a pair of monitors showed the human factory hidden in the jungle. He had planted four security cameras two nights ago, a task which had proven to be child’s play. He had activated his stealth armor and easily infiltrated the outer perimeter of the base. “Maximum magnification.”

He watched the cameras, but could see no sign of those walking tanks. Nor were there any signs of activity around the plant. He had seen a large contingent of humans enter the base yesterday, but they had not emerged. What are they up to? He wondered. He ordered the computer to continue to monitor the base and leaned back in his chair. Things were definitely coming apart, he could feel it.

He punched a few keys and a map of known space came onto the monitors. “Calculate most probable location for Decepticon and or rogue Autobot base.” After a few moments five planets were indicated. All were located on the edge of known space on some uninhabited place. “Overlay possible invasion vectors given that Decepticon and or rogue Autobot units are based outside of known space.” A quartet of dashed lines were sketched onto the map. He viewed each one and noticed that one line went only through human space. If the enemy comes, this is where they will come from, he thought. He considered sending his theory to Kup, but he knew Kup was too busy to deal with idle theories, as was every other member of United Cybertronian Command. When they do come, it will all be up to me.