Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Chandler stepped off the ramp of the shuttle from the Prometheus and saw an honor guard of Cybertronian soldiers waiting for them. Past this honor guards stood Prowl and Jazz the new leaders of Cybertron and its various colonies and outposts. The shuttle had set down on a raised platform so that Chandler could be nearly eye-to-eye with the Transformers. “Greetings, President Chandler,” Prowl began.

“It is an honor to have you on Cybertron,” Jazz finished.

“Thank-you. I assume you have somewhere private where we can talk?” Chandler asked.

“Of course,” Jazz replied and transformed into his Porsche mode. “Hop in.”

Ordinarily it would have been a breach of protocol, but the size of the Transformers meant that special exceptions had to be made. Prowl helped Chandler down from the platform and the human climbed into Jazz. He barely had enough time to put on his safety belt before Jazz sped away. Chandler couldn’t ever remember an introduction like this and in some perverse way enjoyed it. Six years of nothing but stuffed shirts and pomp and circumstance was starting to get to him.

Jazz roared up the spiraling roadway that ran up the side of the walls of Iacon and Chandler nearly lost his lunch as he saw that there was nothing but open space to the right of the road. It would have been a long fall into Memorial Park. Chandler turned away and stared straight ahead. Jazz made a hairpin turn into the government center and stopped abruptly. “We’re here,” he announced. Chandler gulped down what had been rising in his throat and climbed out shakily. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“Oh no, not at all,” Chandler replied, trying to keep his voice level.

“Come on.” Jazz placed Chandler on his shoulder and took him to a room that resembled the conference room on Toronto with a raised end for humans and a much lower one for Transformers. Jazz let Chandler off at the high end of the room and Chandler sat down gratefully. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and saw Prowl arrive. I wonder if he drives a little saner? Chandler wondered. “So what’s on your mind?”

He needs to learn a little something about diplomacy, Chandler thought as he looked at Jazz. “Mostly I just wanted to express my congratulations to you and to assure you that I hope to continue our relationship as allies,” Chandler replied.

“Thank-you, President Chandler. We are also anxious to remain your allies. I don’t expect anything to change with this command change,” Prowl replied.

“Exactly why did Optimus decide to quit?”

Jazz and Prowl looked at each other and Jazz responded, “We’re not exactly sure. I think he was just looking to make a change.”

“So it surprised you as much as me.”

Prowl nodded. “Optimus called us into his office only a couple of minutes before the speech. I think the burdens of command were just becoming too much for him, especially since Override and Roadbuster were murdered.”

“Roadbuster? I hadn’t heard about that. What happened?”

“He was patrolling Nylen and came under attack by something big. It slagged him in the same way as Override. Obviously the two incidents are connected. We’re looking into it, but there’s nothing else we can do. I think that got to Optimus. He cares so much about everyone under his command, that to sit back and do nothing for them was just too painful.”

Chandler was about to say something when Eject came running in. “Prowl, we’re receiving a message from the outpost on Wayward. They’re under attack!”

Wayward was a desert world of blistering temperatures. The surface was almost uniform brown with mountains here and there. On the planet’s largest continent was a mining colony that consisted of a ring of rectangular buildings. A convoy of six Autobots was on its way back from one of the quarries after a day of collecting material gathered from the automated mining system.

Topspin was at the head of the convoy, assigned as one of two escorts for the construction vehicles in the convoy. Everyone was edgy after hearing that Roadbuster had been killed on Nylen, so Hardhead, the base commander, had assigned Topspin and Twin Twist as escorts. “Still nothing on my sensors,” Topspin said to Twin Twist.

“Let’s hope nothing does come up. If whoever it is can hit Nylen, anywhere is fair game.”

“Can the chatter,” Scoop’s voice cut in. “Let’s just finish this job, all right?”

Before Topspin could reply he saw something ahead of him. He zoomed his sensors in on the object and saw that it was a small mechanical device. It was an egg-shaped pod with two small arms and two legs with the joints reversed at the knees. “Unidentified vehicle up ahead. You guys wait here, I’ll investigate,” Topspin said.

“Fine. Just be careful. I’ll report the activity over the comlink,” Scoop replied.

As Topspin headed out to investigate the sighting, Scoop called the colony’s headquarters. “What have you got?” Pipes asked.

“Topspin’s found something just ahead of us. It may be one of those things that killed Roadbuster and Override. What should we do?”

Hardhead butted in on the conversation, “Get to cover. I’ll scramble Powerglide and Over-Run to help you out.” Pipes was already getting the two aircraft on the comlink to order them into the air. “May the Matrix protect you.”

Scoop signed off and relayed the orders. The only problem was that there wasn’t any cover in the area. “Twin Twist, make us some cover.”

Twin Twist immediately took to the air and oriented himself so that his drills sunk into the desert soil. Scoop used his shovel to clear out some of the dirt until a small hole had been made. “The soil’s too tough,” Twin Twist reported.

“Slag!” Scoop cursed. “All right, let’s just dump the ore into there so we can at least transform.” Wideload and Landfill dumped the ore into the hole after Twin Twist had vacated it and Quickmix covered the hole with cement so no one else could steal it without some effort. The five Autobots transformed and looked around worriedly. “Try and raise Topspin.”

Twin Twist tried and replied a few moments later, “I can’t raise him!”

“Autobots, prepare for battle.”

Topspin neared the area and saw the enemy machine still standing there. “Unidentified vehicle, you are trespassing on United Cybertronian Government territory. Please identify yourself immediately,” he called out.

The pod remained where it was and Topspin stopped. He transformed and pulled out his rifle. He was about to fire a warning shot when the ground beneath him began to shake. He saw two tarps that were camoflauged to blend in with the desert ground fly away. Underneath where the tarps had been were two craters filled with the machines. As one they ignited jets and rose into the air. Topspin suddenly found himself surrounded and tried to raise his comrades, but the comlink was jammed.

One of the pods fired a green laser from its right arm, which nailed Topspin in the left arm. He turned and fired his rifle, hitting the pod squarely in its center. It went up in a ball of flame, but three of the pods fired both their arm lasers at once. Topspin was hit up and down his chest and fell to the ground. Before the pods could attack again, Powerglide swooped in, his laser cannon taking out several of the pods in one pass.

“Get out of here, Topspin, I’ll cover you,” Powerglide called out. Fortunately his voice was loud enough that Topspin could hear him without using his comlink. Topspin transformed and started his engines. As he did, a pair of pods hit their jets and followed him, firing their weapons all the time. Topspin weaved and avoided the first few barrages, but finally a couple of shots hit their mark, sending Topspin spinning out of control. He transformed and landed in a heap on the ground. He looked up and saw the two pods close in. They stopped and fired their weapons together. Topspin was hit in the head and chest, exploding in a massive fireball. The pods, a little burned, but otherwise functional, headed back to the battle.

Powerglide went in for another pass, hoping that Over-Run showed up soon. Over-Run was a helicopter and thus slower, which meant that Powerglide would have to wait a little while longer for him to get there. Three more of the pods exploded and Powerglide congratulated himself. “Piece of cake,” he exuded.

The sides of one of the pods folded down to reveal two racks of missiles. It crouched low amidst the others and waited for Powerglide to swoop in. As he fired his cannon to destroy more of the pods, a swarm of missiles streaked up at him. He was hit in the right wing and engine, flame spewing out of the damaged engine. Powerglide tried to pull up, but he was too low to the ground. Before he could even transform he hit the ground and exploded.

Miles away, Simon James smiled at his computer terminal. This time the machines were being run by remote control, because there was no way he could have gotten enough pilots to man them and not have compromised the project. Celia Marshall was controlling the pods while James monitored the situation. “More Autobots are coming, we’d better pull back,” Marshall said.

“Right.” James issued the recall order and the pods began running for the ship. The pods were able to run extremely fast, and made the trip in a couple of minutes. The cargo bay doors opened and the remaining fifteen pods hopped inside. The doors closed and the ship took off into the reddish-brown sky. It was too dark for anyone to notice and James had modified the ship to be virtually undetectable by sensors. He knew he had left behind a lot of evidence, but it didn’t matter. Marshall had arranged with the Confederation military to take delivery of an entire division of Executioners and pods which were codenamed Barracudas.

“Those pods are a little thin on the armor,” Marshall commented as they prepared to activate the hyperdrive.

“I know. I’m sure Koromi can strengthen them up. After all, we didn’t give them a lot of notice.” It had taken a week of feverish work for James to design the Barracuda. Then Koromi had worked his factory crews around the clock for another week to produce the twenty-five Barracudas taken to Wayward. It would be another week before they arrived on Earth, which would give them time to redesign the Barracudas. Overall, though, James was pleased. The pods had taken heavy casualties, but had destroyed two Autobots on their own. He had smiled when the missiles took Powerglide completely by surprise, sending him to a fiery grave. Not all of the Barracudas were equipped with the missiles, but it was a feature he might have to make standard. He brought up the schematics and he and Marshall set to work.

Hardhead arrived at the battle site and activated his comlink, which was being broadcast directly to Cybertron via the colony’s comlink and numerous satellites. He scanned the wreckage of Topspin and Powerglide and noted all of the foreign debris which obviously belonged to the attackers. “Get a forensics team here right away. We’ve got some enemy corpses at last,” Hardhead said briskly.

Prowl looked at Jazz and Chandler and shrugged. “Very well. They’ll be there within a week. What were your casualties?”

“Topspin and Powerglide are dead. The others are uninjured. The ore has been transferred to the colony and Over-Run is sweeping the area to see if they are still on-planet.”

“They won’t be. Their pattern indicates hit-and-run attacks. Just in case, shut down all mining activities until the forensics team completes its work.”

“Yes, sir.” The comlink went dead and Prowl looked at the other two in the room.

“Sounds bad,” Chandler commented.

“These dudes sound like serious trouble,” Jazz chipped in.

“I agree. Maybe now we’ll know who they are, though.” Prowl left quickly to get a team ready to send to Wayward to examine the wreckage. With any luck the corpses would provide some much-needed information on who was behind the attacks. Maybe now, Optimus, we’ll finally be able to fight back, he thought.

***

Optimus Prime looked around his bare quarters, feeling the emptiness that was similar to that within his spark. He sat down on his bed, staring out the window at Iacon, which was spread below him. The city was lit up in many different colors, but that did little to cheer the former Autobot leader up.

The war was over and he had resigned as commander of the Autobot forces. Now he had nothing to do. It had been millions of years since he had had any free time so it was hard to remember what he had used to do when he was off-duty. He looked skyward and saw the stars shimmering overhead. Yes, that is what he should do.

He remembered when the Ark had first been designed and the mission it was to have undertaken. It had been designed to explore space and locate new sources of energon to power the Autobots in their war against the Decepticons. The mission had been scrapped when Megatron had intercepted the ship and boarded it and Optimus had sent the Ark crashing into Earth. Now, with peace at hand, a mission like the Ark’s was possible.

It would be easy enough to requisition a small ship and the supplies to undertake the journey. He wouldn’t need a crew, he could go by himself and explore the universe as he had wanted to do long ago. This time he could explore without having to worry about finding energon for the Autobot forces or having Decepticon ships pursue him. It would be just him, a ship, and the unknown. Who knows, he thought grimly, maybe then I can finally leave the war behind me. He stood and went over to the holoprojector to begin making the arrangements.

Kup called Nighthawk into his office an hour later. She sat down and silently awaited to hear what new mission he had for her. Kup, knowing that Nighthawk hated small talk, got right to the point. “Optimus Prime is requesting a small ship for an exploration mission. He has insisted that no one accompany him, but it is too dangerous for him to go out there by himself. Even though Optimus is not in command, he would be a valuable hostage to the Decepticons or any of the remaining rogue Autobots. I want you to slip aboard his vessel before it launches and reveal yourself once the ship is far away from Cybertron. You are to protect him at all costs.”

“So I am to stow away on his ship and act as his bodyguard?” Nighthawk asked for confirmation.

“Exactly. The ship is docked in the orbital spaceyards in berth 284. It’s called the Discovery. It will be leaving in two weeks.”

“I understand. How long is this mission supposed to last?”

Kup looked at her and then down at his desk. “No one, not even Optimus knows how long it will last. Just stay with him, keep him safe.”

Nighthawk saluted Kup and left the office. A new mission into unknown space for an unknown length of time. It sounded like an interesting mission. Definitely better than patrolling Cybertron. The only problem would be sneaking aboard so that Optimus would not detect her. She remembered the incident in Memorial Park and suspected that Optimus would figure that Kup would assign someone to him for the mission. She would have to check out the ship and look for a good hiding spot.

Once she had left the government center she transformed and headed into the sky. She streaked through one of Iacon’s access ports and up into space. The orbital spaceyards, designed by human and Cybertronian engineers and built ten years ago was a large, spherical structure that seemed like a moon. There were many openings to the spaceyards and Nighthawk flew in through one of the entrances designed for smaller ships and fighters. She made her way to berth 284 and transformed. She could see a small, teardrop-shaped ship painted in a mustard finish. The ship was aerodynamic, which meant it was capable of landing in a planetary atmosphere, a bonus for an exploration mission. The name “Discovery” was stenciled in black on the nose of the ship, just below the cockpit windows.

Nighthawk stepped up to the cargo hatch to try and gain entry. There was a lock that was coded and refused to let anyone except Optimus Prime inside. Fortunately she knew ways to bypass the code and gain entry. As she was about to enter a command into the lock to override it, she heard someone behind her. She turned and saw Optimus Prime standing behind her. “I knew something like this would happen,” Optimus growled, mostly to himself. “Let me guess, Kup ordered you to sneak aboard?”

“Yes, sir,” Nighthawk answered, knowing it was futile to try and lie about it.

“I figured as much. It’s a good thing I was on my way back with these supplies.”

“How did you sneak up on me like that?” Nighthawk demanded. Her ears were some of the best for any Autobot, yet Optimus had somehow managed to sneak up on her.

“Stealth is a skill that is not exclusive to security agents.”

“How are you going to punish me?”

Optimus stared at her in thought for a few moments and then replied, “I’m not. You were following orders. You’re welcome to come with me if you want.”

“You’re asking me to come with you on your mission?”

“It’s not a mission. It’s a journey, and since Kup will somehow get someone aboard to watch me, I may as well let you come aboard willingly.”

“Thank-you, sir.”

“Be here in two weeks at 1200 hours sharp. Otherwise I’ll leave you behind.”

Nighthawk nodded and left quickly. Optimus watched her go and shook his head. Good old Kup, he thought. Optimus had wanted to undertake the journey alone, but he knew that that wasn’t realistic. Even though he was no longer in command of the Autobots, he was still important to them, as was the Matrix he still carried in his chest. As he opened the hatch he knew that he would have to do something with it before he left.

Even with Nighthawk to back him up, there were many dangers lurking in space, that could lose the Matrix for good. Who is worthy of it, though? He wondered. Prowl and Jazz were equally worthy, but he didn’t want to create strife and jealousy by giving it to one of them. In fact, there was no one he could give it to without it creating turmoil. The only thing he could do was hide it somewhere. He finished unloading the supplies from his trailer and thought about where to hide the precious vessel containing all of the Autobots’s history and wisdom.

***

“You are Air Commander? I will blow you to scrap right here and now!” Dreadwind sneered at Misfire. The two of them stood on a catwalk in the base on Kortex. Dreadwind was the latest arrival in the three weeks since Misfire had been on the planet. Omitron had yet to explain her plan, making Misfire and his comrades a little edgy.

What irked Misfire the most was that Dreadwind had arrived only ten minutes ago and already thought that he should be in charge. “Go ahead and try,” Misfire snarled, assuming a fighting stance.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Dreadwind laughed and threw his rifle aside. “Go ahead, take a shot.”

Misfire’s eyes narrowed and he knew that Dreadwind was taunting him. He threw aside his weapon and smiled. “If you insist.” He cocked his fist back and smashed it into Dreadwind’s face. Dreadwind staggered backwards, his right eye shattered by the punch.

Dreadwind growled and lunged at Misfire, trying to knock him from the catwalk. Misfire sidestepped the attack and Dreadwind crashed onto the catwalk. Then Misfire hefted Dreadwind to his feet and laughed as he punched him in the face again. He hurled Dreadwind off of the catwalk and to the ground below. Several limbs became detached and Misfire knew that Dreadwind was unconscious.

“Shouldn’t we do something about this?” Bugly asked Omitron, who was sitting in her chair near the vault where her shell was stored.

“Why?”

“They might do permanent damage to each other.”

Omitron rubbed her chin in thought for a moment and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” As Misfire was about to leap down to finish Dreadwind off, Omitron hovered up to him and held out her hand.

“He’s finished, you have proven your worthiness. Don’t forget that we need all of our troops.” Omitron made an expansive gesture to include the seven other Decepticons present. Omitron looked around at the eight Decepticons she now commanded and knew that no more would come any time soon. She motioned to Dirge and ordered, “Get Dreadwind to the restoration tank.”

Dirge, feeling as angry as Misfire, shouted, “By what right do you command us? You have told us none of your plans. Perhaps you have none!”

Omitron had been expecting a reaction like that and smiled. She chuckled a little and her chair flittered over to the vault. She got out of the chair and tapped a sequence into the vault’s lock. It opened and everyone stared, wide-eyed at what was inside. “A human corpse!” Bugly gasped.

“No, my friends, not a corpse.” Omitron touched a button on the right shoulder and the human body began to grow. Once it had nearly taken up the entire vault it stopped and opened. “A Pretender shell, a very special Pretender shell.”

Bugly, the only Pretender in the group, knew what she meant. No other shell had the ability to change its size like that. Dirge snorted, “That’s a nice trick, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Of course not, but it’s a crucial piece of the puzzle. As is this,” Omitron stepped into the vault and opened up a hidden panel. No one could see her for several moments and when she stepped out once again Dirge dropped to his knees in awe.

“I’m sorry, my lord!” He shouted. The other Decepticons also dropped to their knees in homage. Attached to the top of Omitron’s right arm was a long, silver tube. The others all recognized it immediately as what it was: a fusion cannon. And no one other than Megatron had been allowed to have such a powerful weapon.

“I can assure you all that this is real,” Omitron began and sat in her chair. She rose into the air and stopped at a terminal. She grabbed a blank holoprojector disk and threw it into the air. There was a flash of purple light from the silver tube and the disk was completely vaporized. Not even a stray atom remained. A hyperpulse rifle and all other conventional weapons would have shattered the disk into fragments. Only a weapon as powerful as the fusion cannon could vaporize the disk in mid-air.

Bugly rose and asked the obvious question, “How...how did you get a fusion cannon?”

“I will get to that. Now then, Dirge, I want you to shoot me squarely in the chest.”

“What?”

“Shoot me in the chest, please,” Omitron repeated. She opened her arms up so that he would have a clear shot. Dirge gulped and aimed one of his cannons. He fired and a laser bolt seared the armor in the center of Omitron’s chest.

Omitron put her arms down and everyone watched in amazement as the wound actually began to heal. “How is that possible?” Dirge gasped.

“My chest is composed of bio-armor. It’s a substance that’s a combination of Cybertronian alloys and biological material. Thus the final piece of the puzzle falls into place.” Omitron zoomed lower so that everyone could see her. “It was shortly after the occupation began that I was created.”

“Megatron, having fought the human germs in combat for some time, had realized that despite their size they did have advantages. One such advantage was their regenerative properties. So he created me as a fusion of flesh and metal to incorporate the best elements of a Decepticon and those of weak fleshlings.”

“So you were an experiment?” Scrapper asked.

“Not entirely. Megatron was seeking a counterpart, an equal. No one could match his strength, cunning, and wisdom, so he programmed me to be equal to him in all of those and superior to him in other ways. That is why he created a fusion cannon for me, so that I might equal him in firepower as well.”

“It was not until after the occupation that I became a Pretender. With Decepticon forces on the run, Megatron wanted someone to infiltrate the human ranks to spy on them to keep him appraised of what was going on. In order to accomodate his request I invented a Pretender shell that could actually become a human in size and appearance. So I was able to infiltrate their society and did so on many occassions. It was my tip that warned the Decepticon forces on Bovala of the impending attack, thus allowing them to flee before the humans and Autobots arrived.”

“I created the lab here on Kortex to research new weapons and defensive systems. My own part-biological nature led me to the research I did to create the restoration tank. Before the Battle of Centauri Megatron had me leave my lab to infiltrate the humans once more. I managed to warn him of the attack, but he decided not to listen to me, electing to make a last stand there. I was at the battle, disguised as a human. The fusion cannon can’t fit into the Pretender shell in human mode, so I left it at my lab, thus I wouldn’t have been able to add very much firepower.”

“However, I was able to help the Decepticon cause after the battle. This is on which my plan hinges, for after the battle I was assigned to a clean-up crew on board one of the ships. I managed to capture and escape to here with fifteen Decepticon sparks. I have not been able to create bodies yet, but soon I shall be able to.”

Omitron looked around the base and smiled. “The key to a Decepticon victory lies within the discoveries made here. Most importantly, what we Transformers have neglected for millions of years: that we are alive. We are living machines, sentient beings. We are the combination of the mechanical and the organic. We have neglected our organic roots, believing ourselves to be as mechanical as a human starship, forgetting that what makes us different from all other machines is the living spark within each of us. By reincorporating the organic we can gain an advantage over the Autobots and defeat them and their puny human friends. With the restoration tank and bio-armor technology we have the tools to bring back the glorious Decepticon Empire!” There were cheers all around and Omitron smiled. She had them in the palm of her hand now.

Dirge flew down to the ground and immediately began picking up Dreadwind and placing him into the restoration tank. Omitron knew that now no one would dare to question her wisdom and that they would wait until she told them her plans. Not since the time of the occupation had hope been so high in the Decepticon army. And it will only get better, she thought.

***

Robin Hoover stood before the graduating class of Yale University. She was ready to wind up her speech, which up to now had been the usual fare of a bright future for the graduates so long as they worked hard and acted responsibly. Now she was ready to make her big finish. “One of the tasks which must be undertaken to secure a bright future is to drive the Transformers from Earth and end their military presence in our space forever.”

Many of the graduates had been dozing during the speech, but this woke everyone up. “As Optimus Prime himself said, the war is over; what further use do we have of our Cybertronian allies, if that is what we can call them? The Decepticons are defeated, there have been no attacks in human space for nine years now. We no longer need a foreign military presence on Earth or anywhere else in our space.”

“In order to secure a bright future we must cast aside the last shades of oppression. We humans have been through the fiery hell of the civil war that the Transformers brought to our world and we have triumphed. We have proven ourselves equals, and yet the Cybertronian government has yet so see us in that light, deeming us helpless against any kind of Decepticon attack. Yet, was it not our starships and our brave crews who trapped the Decepticons around Alpha Centauri? Was it not our forces that helped to turn the tide in numerous battles? The Cybertronians have relied on our help but still believe us to be incapable of taking care of ourselves. I hate to disappoint them, but Earth survived billions of years without them and human culture flourished even while their starship lay dormant in a volcano.”

There were a few laughs from the students and Hoover smiled. Looking around at the graduates she could see that she had most of them. Now it was time to go in for the kill. “What me must do is to send a message to our leaders and the leaders of Cybertron that Terra is for Terrans, not Cybertronians. We can take care of ourselves as we have done for a long time. And should a Decepticon attack come, we will deal with it and we will survive it. It is time to end the oppression of the Autobots and take Earth back. I want you all to write letters, send comlink messages, protest, and do whatever it takes to send the message to our leaders that we have had enough. Today the war with the Decepticons ends and the war to save Earth from Cybertronian tyranny begins!” It was no surprise to her when most of the student body leapt to their feet and applauded wildly. She knew that the kind of speech she had made was usually best for political rallies, but she knew that this would still be effective. Besides, the young people would be more sympathetic to the League’s cause, having lived more of their lives in peace then their parents.

She left the podium and took her seat. She leaned over and her personal assistant, Shelly Short, whispered, “You did great.”

“I know,” Hoover whispered. “Now let’s hope we got the message across.”

Short’s comlink beeped and she hurried off of the stage to answer it. A few minutes later she came back as the graduates began taking their diplomas. “That was CBN, they’re leading with your speech on their broadcast tonight.” The Confederatated Broadcast Network was the largest of Earth’s holonetworks and Hoover knew that being the lead story on it would give her a lot of exposure.

She leaned over to the school’s president and whispered, “I’m sorry to leave, but an emergency has come up.”

“That’s all right,” the president replied. “By the way, that was a very interesting speech. We don’t usually get the students so riled up.”

“Thank-you,” Hoover responded as she stood and snuck out with Short in tow. “Call for an emergency session of the League. We’re going to use our momentum to begin our campaign to push these robots out of Earth forever.”

Short nodded and once they were in Hoover’s hoverlimo she began making call to the League’s chief members. “I can’t reach Marshall and James,” she announced.

“They must be out testing the new design James came up with. Good. Have Rhinehard and Koromi meet with me in my office as soon as they can get here.” Short relayed the message and Hoover knew that things were finally underway.

***

Chandler was sipping a glass of scotch when the comlink interrupted him. Cummings’s voice said, “Sir, things are starting to look pretty bad here. Just turn to CBN and you’ll see what I mean.” Chandler grumbled as he went over to the holoprojector in his quarters on the Prometheus, which was already on its way back to Earth.

He tuned it to CBN, which was faint, but coming in. He saw Robin Hoover on the holoprojector and heard the anchor say, “Today in a speech at Yale University, tycoon Robin Hoover called for an end to the presence of Autobot forces on Earth.” The anchor stopped and the last two lines of Hoover’s speech were played. “Here with us to discuss this issue is the liason to the Autobot forces in Toronto, Sam Newman. And joining us by satellite is Ms. Hoover herself. Let’s start with you, Mr. Newman. What did you think about the speech?”

Newman, a former major in the Confederation army, was a short man in his early forties with an unkempt black moustache and a bald head. “Well Katie, I thought the fact that Ms. Hoover chose to make such a statement at a college graduation ceremony distasteful. As well, I don’t see why she is bringing this up now. Despite what she thinks, we still need Cybertronian forces here to protect Earth from another attack. Our forces don’t have the capability yet to repel a Decepticon assault if they get on the ground.”

“What’s the chance that a Decepticon unit could even reach Earth, let alone launch a planetary assault,” Hoover shot back.

“Right now, a slim chance. But the Decepticons are very cunning. They could easily find away around our patrols.”

“The Autobots have been using that excuse for eight years now, yet there hasn’t been a single Decepticon raid in our territory. I think the Autobots are using it as a boogieman to keep us in line.”

“There is a real danger. As long as there are Decepticons there will be a threat to Earth. By forcing the Autobots away we are only hurting ourselves.”

“And when will Earth be safe? Twenty years? Thirty years? A century from now?”

“I don’t know. But the Autobots have done no harm to us, there’s no reason to demand they leave the planet.”

“Their presence is not needed any longer. If the Autobots are interested in peace they should realize this and that it is in our best interest that they leave. All I want is for Earth to be independent once more. That means no Transformers on the planet or in our territory at all.”

Before Newman could respond, the anchor cut them off. “Thank-you both for joining us,” she said. The network went to commercial and Chandler turned it off.

“Sir, this is bad news. What should our response be?” Cummings asked.

“Tell them we have no response at this time.”

“That won’t...”

“I know they won’t settle for that, but I don’t know what else to tell them. I don’t want to kick the Autobots off Earth. Maybe the problem will go away by itself.”

“I doubt it, sir. You know how rich and powerful Robin Hoover is. She’ll keep campaigning until she gets her way.”

“I know. She’s been doing a really good job so far, too, but that can’t last forever. Just keep them at bay until I get back.”

“All right, sir.” Cummings broke the connection and Chandler rubbed his jaw in thought. It didn’t help that Optimus had left the Cybertronian government, proclaiming the war to be over. He remembered the comments of his generals in the last meeting with Optimus and knew that the people were getting restless. Humans were a freedom-loving species, valuing freedom over their own safety. I’ve got to do something, Chandler thought. He punched the intercom to call for a meeting of his staff. They were going to have to find a solution to this problem and fast.

***

In the Incan pyramid that was his home, Ambush watched the CBN broadcast. This must be reported right away, he thought. He had been monitoring the Earth broadcasts for over a month now and until now nothing had caught his interest. It looks like Prime was right, he thought. He had suspected that eventually the weak humans would want their freedom. They believed the war was over and the Decepticons defeated. Having a lot of Decepticon programming inside of him, Ambush knew first-hand that the Decepticons would not stop until all of their number were destroyed.

He pounded his console in frustration as he sent a copy of the broadcast to the communications center in Cleveland. He should be out in space, tracking down Decepticons, not sitting around watching holoprojections. He was a warrior, he needed to be where the action was, not stuck in some dark chamber watching monitors. Still, Optimus had assigned him this task, so he would do it.

As he had thought a hundred times now in the past month, he was beginning to regret joining the Autobots. At least in the Decepticons he would have been able to fight, even if he did have to kill the innocent. Why did I protect these worthless ingrates, he thought, thinking of the humans. I defied Megatron and was nearly scrapped to save them, and this is how they repay me? He stood up and grabbed his rifle. He took the lift to the ground and transformed. He shot away from the pyramid, his big all-terrain tires biting into the ground like drills.

Ambush crashed through a clump of brush and finally stopped. He transformed and looked around. It was growing dark out and Ambush could hear animals moving around near him. Night in the jungle was his favorite time, the time when he felt most at home. He sat down on an uprooted tree stump and stared at the setting sun.

He knew that most of his Autobot comrades preferred the day, when the sun was riding a blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. They hated the night, the impenetrable darkness with its unseen dangers that would fill them with terror. Ambush knew it was just another way he was set apart from the Autobots he served with. As much as he hated to admit it, he was more Decepticon than Autobot and he always would be. Perhaps it was time he resigned from the Autobots and rejoined the Decepticons. The war was over, he wouldn’t have to harm anyone, but at least he could be with his own kind.

“Bah! I have no kind,” he mused, resting his head on his left hand. Perhaps that was it, he had no kin, he was alone. Neither Autobot or Decepticon, neither good or evil. Perhaps he was meant to remain apart from both sides, to live in the wilds of Earth where he felt most at home.

He had been on Cybertron and other planets before, but none of them had ever seemed like his home. Here in the jungles of Earth was the only place he had ever felt at home, at peace. He sighed and continued to watch the sun set. Perhaps he should resign and live forever out here, quietly living out the rest of his days. He smiled as much as he ever did, which was just a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, and wondered if he really could live like that forever.

His thoughts were interrupted when an intense feeling of anxiety came over him. He had learned long ago that it could only mean one thing: danger was nearby. He crouched down behind the stump and scanned for any disturbances. Moments later his sensors came back with nothing. He pulled out his weapon of choice, a kinetic shotgun which would propel slugs of metal at high speeds into any enemy, and began to creep forward, alert for any danger.

A lone Barracuda was in the brush nearby. The scout machine was manned by Koromi Motors security chief, Hugh Abrams. Abrams was out patrolling the area near the factory where the Barracudas and Executioners were being made when a report came in that motion sensors had picked up movement nearby. Abrams had been closest and so he decided to check it out. Now he could see an Autobot creeping slowly towards him.

The Autobot didn’t seem to know where Abrams was, but it did suspect that something was going on. Abrams checked his weapons inventory and knew he didn’t have enough firepower to repel an Autobot that big. “Base, this is Barracuda One in Sector Gamma. I’ve got one Autobot approaching my position.”

The security coordinator responded, “Roger, Barracuda One. Executioners en route.”

“I copy. Be advised that this Autobot is large and...” Abrams broke off as a fist slammed through the front of the pod.

“Barracuda One? Barracuda One, do you read? Damn it Hugh, come in!” The coordinator called, but she still couldn’t get a response. “Executioners, I can’t reach Barracuda One. Hurry up and see if he needs help.” The group of three Executioners patrolling the grounds moved as quickly as possible towards where the Barracuda had been.

Ambush stopped a few miles away and transformed back into robot mode, letting his passenger out. Abrams hit the ground and Ambush set the dazed human in a tree so he couldn’t escape. Then he pulled out his shotgun and took a step back. “What was that device and what were you doing?” Ambush asked.

Abrams stared at the green and black Autobot, still unsure of how it had snuck up on him. “I can’t tell you.”

“You will tell me, or else.”

“Autobots and humans are supposed to be allies!”

Ambush laughed, which to Abrams sounded more like a cough, and trained the shotgun at Abrams. “You see this Autobot sign on my shoulder?” Abrams nodded, seeing the muted black Autobot sign Ambush wore on his left shoulder. “It means very little to me. I was programmed by Decepticons and most of me still is Decepticon. So don’t think I won’t hesitate to blast you, fleshling.”

“I can’t tell you, I’m sworn to secrecy!”

“Is this secret worth dying for?” Ambush asked menacingly.

Abrams stared at Ambush a few moments, thinking of the contract he had signed with Koromi Motors. The contract was for absolute silence in return for a very generous salary with a bonus at the end of the five-year period. If Koromi found out that Abrams had broken his silence, he knew that yakuza would hunt him down wherever he went. Which is worse: Japanese mobsters chasing me or having this Autobot blast me with that big gun of his? Abrams thought. “No.”

“Good. Now tell me what was going on.”

“Koromi Motors is working on a new tank design. It’s very secret. I was assigned to guard it.”

“So you humans are making tanks with legs now?”

It was true, in a way, Abrams thought. “Right. The legs enhance mobility and range.”

“I see. Go back to your post. I have all of the information I need.”

“You mean you want me to walk back through the jungle? At night?”

Ambush growled something and fired his shotgun. Chunks of metal bigger than Abrams’s head flew over him and decimated the top of the tree. Abrams yelped in surprise and climbed down the tree. “I’m going, I’m going!” He shouted and sprinted into the jungle. Ambush watched him run away and transformed, heading back to the pyramid. Something was afoot, he knew that much. He would have to find out what it was. He would have to wait until things had settled down, though. Wherever this new tank was, the guards would be on full alert now. Trying to infiltrate the area now would be foolhardy. In a few days the guards would begin to get lax again. The perfect time to strike.

***

Morning came at last to Wayward, the light from the system’s star turning the reddish-brown sky a more yellowish color. Dry, desert winds picked up and send dust flying at Over-Run, who was flying over an area nicknamed Death Valley after the desert on Earth. Over-Run stopped his helicopter and landed it. He climbed out, feeling the need to stretch a little bit. He had been searching all night for any signs of the things that had killed Topspin and Powerglide, but so far he hadn’t found anything.

He finished stretching and climbed back into his helicopter. Before he could take off his sensors told him that something was in the area. Not wanting to be caught on the ground he lifted off and looked around for whatever he was detecting. He stopped and saw something in the distance. He headed towards it, his sensors picking up a spark. Whatever it is, it’s Cybertronian, Over-Run thought.

As he closed the distance he could make out a large robot that was at least three times larger than him. It was red, white, and blue and as he got closer his jaw dropped in disbelief. It couldn’t be! His mind screamed. He armed his weapons and tried to activate his comlink, but it was jammed. Slag it! I’ve got to get back to base, Over-Run thought as he turned the helicopter around.

“Get him!” A rough voice shouted. From out of nowhere came a green, saucer-shaped object. Over-Run looked back and knew that he couldn’t run. He turned around and opened fire, pain stabbing his spark as he did so. The little craft veered to the left, but not fast enough. It was hit in the left engine and headed towards the ground. Over-Run was about to head back for base to warn them of the new threat when a shot hit the blades of the helicopter.

Over-Run looked down and saw a small army below, waiting for him. As the helicopter plunged towards the ground he activated the emergency thrusters on the rear of the tail. The helicopter regained some altitude and rocketed away from the scene. A minute later the rockets ran out of fuel and Over-Run jumped from the craft before it hit the ground and exploded. Over-Run hit his head on a rock and went unconscious.

He awoke what seemed like an eternity later and saw an army of battered, dirty robotic forms around him. These were the rogue Autobots that had caused the civil war nearly forty years ago. There were twenty of them at least, more than Over-Run would have thought possible. The first one that Over-Run had seen, Ultra Magnus, hefted him into the air. “You have awakened. Good. Now, what are you doing on this planet?” Over-Run could tell that Magnus’s vocal circuits were wearing down and wondered how long he had been on the run.

“This is an Autobot outpost.”

“How fortified is it?”

“Enough to repel your rag-tag band.” Over-Run knew that this was true. While he had been shot down, Hardhead, Scoop, and the others were more than a match for the worn-down Autobots gathered around him.

“What planet is this?”

“Why do you want to know? Doesn’t your navigation equipment still function or did you sell it to buy some spare parts?” Over-Run made no attempt to hide his contempt for the traitors. They had split the Autobot forces and nearly caused their downfall. Over-Run hadn’t been built during the civil war, but he had heard about it from those who had. It had been a pointless conflict over Hot Rod’s ego and madness.

Magnus squeezed Over-Run’s neck, smiling a bit, which excentuated the cracks on his faceplate. “You are impudent. Our navigation equipment was damaged and we have been unable to replace it.”

“You’re on Wayward.”

“Wayward? A mining colony. Leave him, but make sure he can’t contact the others.” Magnus let Over-Run down and motioned to Blurr, who knocked Over-Run to the ground and slagged his comlink. “Transform and roll out.” Magnus called out. Over-Run put his hands to his ears as the rogue Autobots creaked and screeched into their vehicle modes. Then the convoy headed out for the colony. Over-Run watched them go and then began walking back towards the colony. Without a comlink there was no way he could reach Hardhead in time to warn him. Hopefully the Autobots could repel their brethren without too many casualties.

The system’s star reached its zenith and Over-Run was still miles from the colony. He hadn’t seen or heard any sign of the rogue Autobots since they had attacked him. The irony was that no one had seen or heard of the rogue Autobots for years. Most of their number were dead or locked up on Cybertron. How had so many survived? More importantly, why were they resurfacing now and on Wayward of all places? Perhaps with the war over they think now is a good time to try and rally the cause. Good luck, Over-Run thought pessimistically as the heat baked his superstructure.