Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The forest was dark and the only sounds were from leaves rustling. Nighthawk flinched and turned her weapons towards some of the foliage. She was on patrol around the base and was still unused to the sounds of the forest at night. She lowered her weapon and continued walking, her footsteps sounding hundreds of times louder in her ears.

Suddenly something burst out of the brush and before Nighthawk could react hands had grabbed her and hauled her into the foliage. She was thrown to the ground and her weapon removed. She found herself looking up at a long, cigar‑shaped weapon. She moved her eyes up and saw that a white, red, and black figure stood over her. "Don't move," Jetfire commanded quietly. "If you try to do anything, I'll shoot."

Tears welled up in Nighthawk's eyes and she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me, Father?"

"How do you know about that?" Jetfire asked.

"My mother told me."

"Omi is here? Is she being held captive?"

"No. She is a Decepticon."

Jetfire took a step back and Nighthawk got to her feet. "A Decepticon?"

"That's right. She was undercover as your lab assistant. Now she leads the Decepticons. I...I have joined her." Jetfire hadn't noticed the Decepticon symbol on Nighthawk's shoulder, but he did now.

Jetfire lowered his rifle and shook his head. "By Primus. I didn't want you to find out like this. I was going to tell you when I came back to Cybertron, but you were gone." He suddenly raised his weapon again and hissed, "Why did you do it, why did you help them steal those sparks? Do you have any idea what you have done?"

"I helped my people in their war. I don't feel proud about that, or killing Sunstreaker, but the Decepticons are my people, I belong with them."

"You are only half‑Decepticon, Nighthawk. You are also half‑Autobot. Please, come back with me. Optimus and I will help you in your trial so you won't be punished too much."

Nighthawk looked into her father's eye and then shook her head. "No, I can't do that. All my life I have felt out of place among Autobots and now I know why. I hate most of these Decepticons, but some, like my mother and even Bugly, are intelligent warriors." She sighed and then continued, "Omitron will suspect something if I'm not back on patrol soon. You have to go. First, though, has Optimus said anything about what we were doing, what we discovered?"

"Not to my knowledge."

She touched his arm and explained quickly, "We found a wormhole to another galaxy and a planet full of nucleon. The power that could be gained from it is limitless. Optimus must not want anyone to find it, but I know Omitron will in time. If she does, the Decepticons will destroy everything. For everyone's sake you must destroy that planet, destroy the nucleon." A disk popped out of her chest and she pressed it into his hand. "Here are the coordinates. I love you, Father, but I can't go with you. Please understand."

Jetfire touched his faceplate to her head in a kind of kiss. "I understand, but deep down you are still an Autobot. I love you, don't forget that." Then Jetfire disappeared into the night and Nighthawk went back on her patrol beat.

Omitron stared at a monitor, her head in her hands. She was hiding something! Omitron's mind raged. She made sure to plant a monitoring device on Nighthawk once they had returned to Cybertron, hoping to gain Nighthawk's secret. She knew she could have Jetfire found and captured, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had loved Jetfire once, and a part of her still did.

A wormhole with a planet full of nucleon? She was tempted to shadow Jetfire and find it, but she didn't have the troops to hold a world like that or the transport capabilities to take out the nucleon. Even so, she had to make sure that Jetfire was stopped. She suspected that Optimus would tell the other Autobots and a fleet would be sent to the area, so she would have to work quickly. Fortunately her plan was all set to go, with both ships in her possession being capable of cloaking now.

She would have to continue her plan as expected and detail someone to hunt Jetfire down and keep him from the nucleon. She punched a button on her chair and Bugly entered the room. "Yes, Commander?" He asked.

"I have a mission for you of utmost importance..." The door shut behind Bugly and Omitron explained everything to him. Soon he had shed his shell and took off in his robotic plane mode. Omitron turned back to business and wondered what she should do about Nighthawk.

***

The Striking Eagle and five other ships were sitting dead in space near where the Discovery had been ambushed. Scans of the area had turned up no leads as yet. Optimus sat on the bridge of the Striking Eagle and looked worriedly out into space. Had he run into a random patrol of Decepticons? Perhaps that frigate had merely been in the area and wanted to stop him. He sighed and the sensors continued their sweep.

For a moment Chromedome thought he saw something on the sensors, but it was gone a fraction of a second later. Probably radiation, he thought. Arcee looked over at Optimus and asked, "Do you want Silverbolt to have a team sweep all of the nearby planets?"

"No. It would take months to completely survey those planets. Order the fleet to spread out in defensive formation. Perhaps the Decepticons will show themselves in time." He handed Arcee a disk and commanded, "Have the Valiant and Witwicky go to the coordinates on this disk and wait for instructions."

Arcee glanced at the disk and thought better of asking what was on it. She relayed the orders and wondered if the Decepticons would try to attack the fleet. If so, then they would find themselves in a world of hurt. A few minutes later the frigate and destroyer Optimus had designated left the fleet, disappearing into hyperspace. The Striking Eagle, two cruisers, and a frigate remained, taking up defensive positions and waiting for any sign of trouble.

Omitron watched the two ships leave the main group and smiled. Optimus must be in command of that fleet, she thought. He's sending a couple of ships to guard the wormhole and nucelon until he can secure it. A frigate and destroyer would not be hard to dismiss, especially once her army was ready. However, getting her two ships out would be more difficult now. She called Scrapper to her and laid out what she had in mind. He scurried away and Omitron wished that she had the firepower to destroy Optimus Prime and his fleet now.

You killed Megatron, my creator and counterpart, she thought venomously. She had never really loved Megatron, but there had always been a bond between them since she had been created. While Megatron had killed himself at Centauri, it was Prime who had made it happen, defeating Megatron countless times and driving him to that cursed sector of space. The Battle of Chicago was legendary, Optimus Prime and his army had set upon Megatron's temporary headquarters during the battles to liberate Earth. The two leaders had finally caught up with each other on the roof of an enormous skyscaper called the Sears Tower. Prime had defeated Megatron in hand‑to‑hand combat and nearly scrapped him, but a Decepticon commando had appeared from nowhere and saved Megatron.

Omitron had not been present for that battle, but Soundwave's archives of the war and Megatron himself had filled her in on it. That Decepticon commando had betrayed his people and joined the Autobots and Omitron wondered if she saw him if she could turn him like she had turned Nighthawk. She looked back at Optimus's fleet and cursed it and him. If she ever fought him she would tear his circuits out and destroy him very, very slowly. Megatron would be avenged. Perhaps I will mount Prime's head on the Sears Tower to avenge Megatron, Omitron thought. She laughed a little and shut down the sensors. She still had matters to attend to.

***

The sleek white and gray fighter streaked along the surface of the moon, its twin engines blazing with blue fire. Simon James had never flown a better fighter than the prototype VM‑1 Phoenix. The Phoenix looked like Jetfire in fighter mode, only James had made it just a bit smaller. The fighter was without the bulky extra armor and rocket boosters Jetfire usually wore, although James had designed those for the Phoenix for combat.

He spun the fighter to the left and barreled through a crater, inverting the Phoenix as he did so. He had never felt so free in his life and for a few moments everything, the war, the Transformers, his dead wife, all of it was gone from his mind. He had not flown a fighter in so long, but once he had climbed into the seat it had felt like he had never left.

He decided to test out the weapons and gripped the control stick tightly in his right hand. He armed the racks of missiles under the wings and fired them. The area he had selected was blown into tiny fragments and James smiled with satisfaction. He armed the four laser cannons in the belly turret and streams of ultrapulse light decimated more moonscape. "Phoenix to Control, time to put this thing through its paces."

James was decked out in a black flightsuit which covered a padded vest and pants that contained millions of sensors that were attached all over his body. His head was covered by a bulky, black virtual reality helmet that allowed him to see the terrain without distracting his conscious mind. His arms were encased in black armor, and from a side pod on his left arm was a wire that plugged into part of the cockpit of the Phoenix. The entire suit allowed James to become one with the machine, to allow his mind and spirit to act like the spark of a Transformer. The wire on his left arm was key, because it was what kept his special suit interfacing with the machine. In case it was severed, there were manual controls, but the Phoenix could not perform its miraculous feats with them.

Using all of this technology, James's spirit commanded the fighter to transform. Instantly machinery began moving as the Phoenix changed its form. The engines swung down as legs, arms unfolded from under the fuselage, the swing wings tucked in, a cavity of the chest opened to allow the laser turret up. The cockpit of the fighter moved backwards and part of the turret opened as it aligned with the cockpit and let the cockpit inside, then the hatch sealed and the turret swung up while the nose of the fighter went down. In moments the Phoenix had become a robot that looked almost exactly like Jetfire.

The turret was now the head of the plane, which stood on the surface on its engines, which had swung apart to form feet. The process had gone smoothly and taken only a couple of seconds. James had done everything he could to make sure that the fighter's systems were not vulnerable during any part of the transformation. He surveyed the area and clutched the cigar‑shaped cannon in the robot's hands. He pumped a few rounds out and noticed the plasma cannon worked better than he had hoped.

James looked around and mentally commanded the Phoenix to launch all of its missiles. Parts of the machine opened up to reveal racks of missiles, which shot out, trailing flame as they launched and struck distant parts of the surface. "Control, looks like we've got a winner. I'm bringing her back in." Marshall acknowledged and James transformed the fighter into an intermediate mode where the wings were up and the nose back in front, but the arms and legs were still extended. This intermediate mode allowed the Phoenix to bring the plasma cannon to bear while maintaining the maneuverability of a fighter. James cruised back to the factory and knew that at last he had a way to defeat the Transformers at their own game. Beware, Jetfire, James thought and a smile came to his face.

***

Kup handed the computer pad to Jazz, who frowned. "That's worse than I thought," Jazz mused. The latest polls across Cybertronian territory showed that Hot Rod had a commanding lead in the electorial race. He and Prowl were only a couple percentage points ahead of Darkstar, which was a definite bad sign. "At this rate he'll have everything wrapped up in a couple of weeks. There has to be some way to stop him."

"We could assassinate him," Prowl suggested, sighing.

"No way. This 'bot was working for the Decepticreeps for years, why is everyone trusting him now?"

Kup sat down and replied, "Most Cybertronians didn't like pulling out of Earth, it made you guys look weak. That and the rogue attacks and Decepticon penal facility raids."

"Don't forget that Optimus backed him," Prowl chipped in. "Maybe we should withdraw."

"That would just hand the election to Hot Rod. If Optimus can find the Decepticons then we can bring them to justice before the elections, that's bound to win us some points," Jazz replied.

Kup snorted, "Who would have thought we Autobots would be playing these silly political games?"

"Not I," Prowl replied.

"We've got to do what we've got to do," Jazz responded. "This isn't about maintaining power for ourselves, but keeping a former Decepticon agent out of office."

"Right. All Hot Rod can do now is make idle promises, we're the ones who can get things done, so that's what we need to do," Prowl said. "We need to find the rogues and Decepticons.

Before Kup could respond, his comlink beeped. He answered it and listened for a few moments before signing off. He turned to his two friends and explained, "The auditing team we sent to Vala Three just reported in. The Decepticon books are clean."

"Send three cruisers to Vala Three. I want a complete search of that planet, looking for any supplies of ore where they shouldn't be. The Decepticons have to be hiding something, why else would they have taken those sparks?"

Jazz and Kup looked at Prowl incredulously. "You're ordering an invasion of their sovereignty!" Kup shouted.

"It's the only logical course of action. Swindle is handling the books for those colonies, I know he's got some tricks to make things look right, even to experienced auditors. The only way to find anything is by force. Besides, that should take some wind out of Hot Rod's sails."

Before either of the other two Autobots could reply, Prowl stormed out of the room. The stress had been mounting on all three of them lately, especially for Prowl, who was used to remaining behind the scenes. Jazz finally looked over to Kup and said sadly, "Belay Prowl's orders on my authority. Then...relieve him of command until further notice. We need results, but I think this is getting to Prowl, it's becoming too personal."

"He feels, like I do, that Optimus betrayed us by nominating Hot Rod for leader. I don't know what's happening to us anymore, but I don't like it. There's too much politics, it's tearing apart friendships. You should know, you used to be close to Hot Rod."

Kup nodded. "I turned him from a snot‑nosed punk into a warrior, just like countless other Autobots. There is something different about him, though. There's an inner strength that allows him to take charge. That's why the rogues followed him, and why everyone will follow him now. They see a bit of Optimus in him."

"Call Wayward and have Hardhead on the first shuttle here."

"Why?"

"He's the new commander of the Autobot army."

"What?"

"We need someone who will get results. Hardhead is stubborn and close‑minded, but he gets things done. We need someone who will be able to breathe some hope to our cause." Jazz looked over at Kup and then added, "Under no circumstances will the Decepticon colonies be invaded by Autobot troops. We would lose face to the neutrals and humans and maybe even cause the Decepticons to revolt."

"I understand. I wish Ultra Magnus were still on our side, or that Fortress Maximus and Sky Lynx weren't dead. They were all experienced commanders with common sense."

"I know, but you have to admit, Hardhead beats putting Wheelie in charge." The two old warriors laughed and Kup left to relay the bad news. Jazz hoped he was doing the right thing and wished for the good old days.

***

Jazz was standing on the balcony of his Iacon apartment, gazing down at Memorial Park. It reminded him of Earth, a planet he would probably never set foot on again. When he had first woke up in 1984, he had found Earth to be a paradise. The landscape was so beautiful, the people were mostly nice, and the music had been so wonderful. All of that had been destroyed in the century of war since then. The humans hated the Autobots, Earth had been devastated in many places, and not even the music comforted Jazz's tortured soul any longer.

Looking at the park reminded him of all the comrades he had lost, human and Autobot. Some, like Ironhide had been lost to the war while others, like Bumblebee, had been lost to the rogues. He thought of the courageous Spike Witwicky, who at over 100 years old had died with Fortress Maximus, helping to control the giant warrior's weapons and defenses until the bitter end. Spike's son Daniel was supposed to have manned Fortress Maximus's command center that day, but the old human had knocked his son unconscious and given his life in place of his son's. He remembered how Ironhide had given himself to save an entire planet. So many sacrifices, he thought.

Looking down at the park, Jazz thought of what was missing now. The comraderie was gone, replaced with politics and backstabbing. Even Optimus was a part of it now, which signaled the demise of Autobot society. He remembered all the good times on Earth like driving around the countryside taking in the beauty, partying in Earth clubs, and cracking jokes with his friends inside the Ark. It was all gone now. Kup and Prowl were his only friends around to talk to, but now a rift had been formed between he and Prowl. The rest of his remaining friends were scattered across dozens of worlds, all too busy to have a friendly chat.

Looking down at the park, Jazz had seen enough. He was tired of the political games and the loneliness. He turned away from the park and went inside. He opened a chest and pulled out his old rifle. It was not even a hyperpulse rifle, just a standard laser rifle like the Autobots had used to use.

He walked back out to the balcony and looked down at the park again, his resolve hardening. Too many friends lost, he thought. Too many friends have sacrificed themselves, and for what? This is not what we fought for. We fought for peace and happiness, not politics and strife. Ironhide, Fort Max, and even old Spike had given their lives to secure a better future for the galaxy. Now it was all coming apart. "I belong with them, in the Matrix, at peace. This world has no use for me any longer. I will have no part of the destruction of all that my comrades and I fought for," Jazz whispered.

Jazz continued to look down at the park as he put the rifle to his head. He steeled himself and his finger pulled the trigger. A single shot was fired, destroying Jazz's head. His body stood upright for a moment and then fell backwards onto the balcony. It landed with a crash and the rifle fell from his hands.

Kup had been coming to Jazz's apartment to tell him that he had sent the messages when he heard the shot. He sprinted forward through the corridor until he reached Jazz's door. It was locked, but Kup threw himself against it, smashing it open. He charged inside and saw Jazz's headless corpse lying on the balcony. He knelt down next to it, but it was too late. Jazz's spark was already gone and there was no way to recover it.

For the first time in many years, Kup wept. "Why, Jazz?" He asked through his pain. However, as Kup saw the old rifle, he knew why Jazz had done it. He had felt guilty about what he had done to Prowl and lonely after losing one of his last friends. Kup had felt the same way and might have done as Jazz had done, except he had trained most of the Autobot army and had seen almost all of them die. "You were one of the last true Autobots," Kup whispered. He activated his comlink to report what had happened. Then he was left to weep for his friend and all the others who had gone before.

***

Four hours later Kup, Prowl, and Blaster were gathered in the dark, empty conference room. "I don't believe it," Prowl groaned. "I can't believe he did it."

"I know, I know," Kup replied. "We have to figure out what to do now."

"What can we do?" Blaster asked.

Prowl wiped away a tear and answered, "One of us can assume temporary command of the government and armed forces until a council chooses a new ruler."

"Is that legal?" Blaster wondered.

"It's Article 52 of the United Cybertronian Constitution."

"Won't that turn Cybertron into a police state?"

Prowl shook his head. "It can be used that way, but in the right hands it will keep the government functioning for the two weeks it will take to assemble a quorum of commanders to vote in the new leader. Kup...I think you're the best choice."

Blaster nodded, "Me too. You're wise and the people will trust you."

"All right, but only until the council elects a new official. Blaster, send out a signal to every Autobot outpost, colony, and ship. Tell them that all command officers are to report to Cybertron at once."

"It'll take a few hours for all colonies to get the message and another two weeks for them to start arriving. What do we do in the meantime? Everyone is bound to be upset about this mess."

Kup looked at both of them sadly. "We prepare Jazz's funeral. A big state funeral that will remind all of us what we used to stand for. Jazz's death is a symbol, a symbol of what we have become. By the Pit, we will make sure that he did not die in vain." Kup turned and left the room quickly, leaving Prowl and Blaster alone.

"I heard that Jazz suspended you," Blaster said.

Prowl nodded. "He did. Technically the order still stands. I'm glad you could make it. How are things with the Earth‑to‑Cybertron music station?"

Blaster frowned and answered, "It's been cancelled indefinitely. The humans don't want to work with us any longer. After three years they've cancelled the project. That shows us where we all stand, huh?"

"It does," Prowl replied and clapped Blaster on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll help you send those messages."

Blaster stood up and looked at Prowl for a moment. "It's not your fault, Prowl."

"I crossed the line and forced Jazz to do something he didn't want to do."

"You're a soldier, Prowl, you were doing your job."

"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier. At least some of the others will come back now for a day or two. It'll be nice to see some old friends, even if it is in a time of grief."

"Grief seems to be all we have left," Blaster replied solemnly as they left the conference room.

***

Shale and his staff, which was actually Chandler's staff, gathered in a conference room to discuss the situation in the Confederation without the Autobots around. "Hoover's machines are good, but that demonstration was rigged," General Sharpe said.

"It's either those or nothing," Minister of Defense Beckett replied.

"Ms. Hoover has more than the Confederation's best interests at heart, but Bill's right, we have no choice," Sharpe broke in.

"Ralph, there's no guarantee that bill will pass," Sharpe responded.

"It will, unless we try to stop it. I want your professional opinion, can those things stop a Decepticon assault?"

"It depends on how many are attacking, what the terrain is, etc., but I think they have a good chance."

"Good enough. The people are going to demand that we do something to make sure that they're safe once it sinks in that Earth isn't all that well defended. This is better than anything else we have."

Before the subject could continue, Cummings burst into the room. She had left earlier to take an urgent call, and now her face was ashen. "We've got a new problem," she announced.

She slipped a disk into a monitor and Kup's worn face came onto the screen. "Who's that old geezer?" Shale demanded.

"Kup, Chief of Security for the United Cybertronian Government," Cummings answered. She wished Chandler was back, but he was still comatose after the rogue attack.

"My friends, we now face a grave new problem. Jazz, our president and one of the most decorated Autobots in history, has died just a few hours ago. We believe that the wound was self‑inflicted, due to overwhelming stress."

"I should amend that, the wound was not self‑inflicted. It was inflicted by all of us. Our bickering, hatred, and rivalry is tearing us apart. Jazz and Prowl have done what they could, but it was not enough. We are facing the dawn of a new age, an age of unrest between Cybertronians and Terrans, an age of internal strife, an age of misery. It doesn't have to be that way though."

"It wasn't until I saw Jazz lying dead on the balcony of his quarters that I realized it, that it finally sunk in that we have lost something important. We have lost the spirit that allowed us and our allies to triumph over Megatron and his forces. We have lost the comraderie and courage we once had. We have lost our way."

"Now is the time to find it once more, to let the light of the Matrix guide us again. So many lives have been lost to the evil war that plagued us for eons, and yet the Autobot spirit of peace and honor endured all of that time. Just eight years of peace, though, has seen that spirit fading. It is time for all Autobots, all Cybertronians, to recapture that spirit, lest future generations end up starting new wars."

"Jazz has shown us the light, and now we must follow it. I have assumed command of the Cybertronian government as per the Constitution. In roughly two weeks commanders from all over our space will arrive to elect a new leader to last until the elections are completed. Upon their arrival we will hold the funeral for Jazz. I urge all of you to attend. And I urge that the candidates remaining in the election conduct themselves in a friendly, honorable manner. We are not enemies with ourselves or with anyone else. The old Autobot battle cry was ''Til All Are One!' Now we are one, and it's time we acted like it. We can't give in to our hatreds, fears, and rivalries. We must give ourselves to the light of the Matrix and led it guide us, for the good of all Cybertronians."

"I know that Jazz is one with the Matrix now and that he is finally at peace. He will no longer have to face war and hatred. We must work to make our reality the same way. May the Matrix protect you all." Kup's face faded from the screen and the humans looked at each other in surprise.

"He's even worse than Optimus," Sharpe grumbled.

Beckett nodded, "He talks like that old American leader, Kennedy. Full of lofty visions of the future and such nonsense. Will they buy it?"

Cummings nodded, "The Autobots are spiritual and emotional, something like that will touch them just like us if one of our most important heroes died."

Sharpe interrupted, "The Autobots are not our concern any longer."

"Sir, we have to make some kind of gesture to the Cybertronians."

"Why?"

"They have always been our allies."

"Not any more. I'll send them a standard condolence letter, but that's it."

Cummings was tempted to slap the heartless president, but only nodded instead. Shale wasn't half the man Chandler was and not even a quarter of the leader. "Fine."

"Now then, we are in agreement about Hoover's weapons?"

Sharpe and Beckett nodded and Shale smiled. "Excellent. I'll let her know to step production up immediately." Cummings left the room and went up to her office. She sat down tiredly and placed a call to Captain Hunter of the Prometheus, which was assigned to the Home Fleet.

"Captain, this is Margaret Cummings, President Chandler's press secretary. There's something I need to discuss with you."

The captain was in his quarters and she saw his brows knit together. "What is it?"

"You knew President Chandler a long time and you know that he'd never have severed our relations with the Cybertronians, right?"

"He valued them as allies, he'd never have forced them out," Hunter replied.

"Exactly. What Shale and the rest of the government is doing is wrong. There's got to be something we can do about it."

"There is."

"What?"

Hunter sighed and then replied, "We can defect to the Cybertronians. If a lot of ships defect, the government and people are bound to lose some of their cockiness."

"I see. Then let's do it."

"I'll make some quiet inquiries, but I know a lot of us will do it. Chandler is one of us and a lot of us served with Autobots. We know who the real enemies are. I'll be in touch."

"Thank‑you, Captain." Hunter nodded and broke the connection. Cummings sighed and wondered if Hunter's plan would work. It would take a lot to shake up Shale and the rest of the government. She went back to work, hoping that the Autobots could find their spirit again.

***

"I don't believe it," Hot Spot breathed, clutching the orders from Blaster.

"What is it?" Blades asked.

"They're calling for a council to elect a new leader. Jazz...is dead."

"By Primus," Groove breathed.

"Streetwise and I will take the first ship out of here at once. Groove, you're in command until I return." Groove nodded and Hot Spot hurried from the room. It would take two weeks to get to Cybertron from Hreda Prime, but Hot Spot would be there. He and Streetwise left twenty minutes later.

The cruiser Maximus was one of many Autobot ships patrolling the border between Cybertronian and human space. On the bridge, Camshaft read the message and handed it to Downshift. Without waiting for Downshift's reaction, Camshaft turned to the ship's helmsman. "Take us home at maximum speed," he ordered. The officer looked confused and Camshaft added, "To Cybertron, immediately."

The ship wheeled about and went into hyperspace. Camshaft sighed and Downshift said, "They asked for you personally, must be something big."

"I know. They must want me to help elect a new leader, but why?"

"You aren't the commander of a colony or outpost, just this ship, so it must be something else. Maybe they want you to be elected as the interim president."

"That's absurd!"

"But Prowl sent this message personally, it wasn't a standard one. That has to mean something."

"Perhaps you're right, but how could I possibly be elected after the fiasco in Cleveland?"

"It wasn't your fault, you did what you could, it was the humans who were at fault. In fact, your actions saved lives."

Camshaft looked up at Downshift, who was standing next to the command chair. "I will not assume command of the Cybertronian government, but I will give whatever aid is required of me to elect a new official."

Downshift nodded and walked away, deciding it was best not to broach the subject for the rest of the trip. Camshaft still felt responsible for the massacre at Cleveland, but Downshift knew that other commanders would have ended up with far more dead humans on their hands. That fool Hardhead would have gone out there and blasted them all, Downshift thought with a little anger. Camshaft was a talented officer and a great Autobot, but he didn't have the confidence in himself to allow him to be an Optimus Prime. Downshift sighed and hoped that Camshaft stopped blaming himself and tired to see himself as he really was.

"All right, let's move out!" Hardhead bellowed.

"I'm coming!" Over‑Run responded. The Action Master took the controls of a shuttle and readied the ignition sequence. Hardhead strapped into the rear compartment of the shuttle and waited impatiently for it to take off. Over‑Run began the ignition sequence and the shuttle's engines roared to life. It clawed for altitude and both Autobots were plastered to their seats from gravity. Then it broke through Wayward's atmosphere and emerged in space.

Hardhead unstrapped and went up to the cockpit. "Great to leave that dirtball, eh?" He asked Over‑Run, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, it is," Over‑Run replied quietly, hating to be stuck with Hardhead for two weeks.

"Cybertron wants me to help pick the next leader, I wonder who I should vote for?"

"How about yourself?" Over‑Run joked dryly.

Hardhead rubbed his chin and smiled. "Not a bad idea, actually. I mean, who else is there?"

"I have no idea. I'm not into Cybertronian politics."

"Neither am I. I'll be back in the passenger compartment downloading some news dispatches."

Hardhead turned and left and Over‑Run shut the door to the cockpit. He sighed and turned to his controls. "Thank the Matrix."

***

Hot Rod sat in a bar in Cyberhex and had just seen Kup's speech. Bumblebee and Springer, his advisors, sat with him. "Never thought they'd make Kup president, even for a little while," Springer commented.

"He's not president, he's a dictator," Hot Rod responded.

"Kup was right about what he said," Bumblebee replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I was on the Ark mission, and a lot of things were different from now. We were fighting a hellish war, but for the first twenty years or so it was...fun. Not because of the killing, but because we were all friends. When we were able to get ships to Cybertron for reinforcements, things started to change. The war escalated and we were all spread out. We used to be like a family. Optimus was our father figure and Prowl was the big brother I never had. It's all changed."

"You're not going to go slag yourself like Jazz, are you, Goldenrod?" Springer asked.

"No. I'm going to get my old job back," Bumblebee got up and left the bar before either of his friends could try to talk him out of it.

"So what do we do?" Hot Rod asked.

"You have to go with the funeral and pay your respects and then clam down for a little while."

"And let those tyrants milk his death?"

Springer was about to reply, but suddenly the doors to the bar were broken open. A large black and silver Decepticon entered, his orange eyes sweeping the room and stopping at Hot Rod and Springer. Both Autobots shifted nervously as he strode towards them. "I was right!" The Decepticon shouted in a deep voice. "You are here."

Five other Decepticons, all wearing some kind of symbol with a black bird, came in and gathered around the leader, who stood taller than both of them. Hot Rod estimated the Decepticon was half‑again his height. Springer got up and said diplomatically, "Is there some kind of problem?"

The Decepticon shoved him aside and Springer landed in a corner of the bar. Two of the other Decepticons went over to him and leveled weapons at him, motioning that he stay on the floor. Hot Rod leapt to his feet, "What do you want?"

"I am Darkstar, your competitor for the presidency. I am an impatient Decepticon, I can't wait months for the election, so I want to settle things here and now. You and me, one‑on‑one."

"Hot Rod, don't!" Springer shouted.

Hot Rod didn't look over at his friend and growled, "Fine, just leave Springer and everyone in this bar alone. We'll settle the score outside."

"Excellent," Darkstar hissed. He reached behind him and pulled out a large fan‑shaped object. He affixed it to his arm and three blades slid out. Hot Rod pulled out his silver laser rifle and both of them went outside into the street. There were buildings all around, but the street was wide and flat, nowhere to run. Traffic was nonexistent, three of Darkstar's minions blocking it off at both ends.

They stood in the center of the street, only a couple of feet apart. Darkstar pulled out a rifle, a hyperpulse from what Hot Rod could tell. That meant he was outgunned and outmatched in size. I'm toast, he thought to himself. They took a few paces backwards and then steeled themselves for the battle. Hot Rod and Darkstar circled each other in the street, sizing each other up.

Hot Rod analyzed his opponent and knew that while Darkstar was large and packed a whallop, Hot Rod had speed on his size. Before Darkstar could pull off a shot, Hot Rod lunged forward and transformed. He gunned his engine and tore down the street. Darkstar fired a few shots from his rifle, but Hot Rod was too quick. He stopped and turned around. Then he roared at Darkstar, dodging more shots.

He waited for the right moment and then transformed, catapaulting himself into the air. His hands grabbed Darkstar's gun as he vaulted over and he managed to pry the weapon away. However, Darkstar swatted with his right arm and his blades lanced through Hot Rod's waist. Hot Rod screamed in pain and his momentum was stopped. They both collapsed to the ground, Hot Rod still skewered on Darkstar's blades. Hot Rod managed to pry himself loose and stumbled to his feet. Darkstar laughed mightily as he transformed into a large van‑like vehicle. The blades formed a kind of old‑fashioned cowcatcher on the front of the vehicle.

Hot Rod staggered backwards as Darkstar revved his engine. The attack had damaged Hot Rod badly and he was no longer able to transform. He still had Darkstar's gun and turned around, knowing he couldn't run. Darkstar shot forward and Hot Rod fired streams of pulsed laser energy. Armor was torn off Darkstar, but then the distance between them closed. Hot Rod managed to dive away from the Decepticon's attack, but before he could fire again, Darkstar had transformed and stomped over to Hot Rod. The weapon was batted away and the black and silver Decepticon loomed over the Autobot, his orange eyes blazing with fury.

Darkstar hefted Hot Rod into the air, laughing. He reached back with his right arm and without prelude stabbed Hot Rod through the head. Hot Rod screamed for an instant and then his head was crushed. His eyes were shattered and his central processor was exposed. The Autobot went limp and Darkstar threw him to the ground. "Let's fade, Crows!" Darkstar shouted to his minions. They all transformed and fled quickly.

"What do we do now?" One of Darkstar's lieutenants asked. "The cops'll be all over us now."

"We're getting out of here. I know someone who can get us a ship. Then we'll meet up with the 'Con army."

"The army? Why?"

"I've run long enough, it's time to start trashing those Autopunks again. The best way to do that is to join up with whoever is trying to rebuild the army. I'm sure they'll be impressed with fifteen 'Cons ready for some action." Darkstar's lieutenant said nothing, he was too busy celebrating. All of the Crows gang had been wanting to make some kind of move on the Autobots and finally Darkstar had a plan to make it happen. Finally, carnage, death, destruction, my best friends, he thought as the gang entered a secret tunnel leading back to Thorous.

Springer ran outside and saw Hot Rod's body laying on the ground. "Hold on, kid," he whispered. There was still a chance to save Hot Rod's spark, but Springer didn't have much time. He pulled out his sword and slashed Hot Rod's chest open carefully. He peeled through layers of cirucits and metal until he found Hot Rod's spark. It was still functional, but dying. Springer looked around and then found the port to trigger a manual stasis lock. This was designed for use by medical personnel on the field, so they could save a spark until it could get proper care. Springer opened his chest and pulled out a long cord which he plugged into the port. He was now linked with Hot Rod's systems and by using a special code he was able to trigger a stasis lock. Then Springer pulled his friend's spark free. He transformed into helicopter mode and headed for a hospital.

Hot Rod awoke what seemed like hours later and could tell right away that something was wrong. He had been dying, and yet now he was in a gray hospital room. What had happened? He examined his body and saw that it was silver and skeletal, not his at all. Rather it was a drone body where his spark had been installed until his real body could be repaired. Springer entered the room, smiling. "How do you like the loaner body, kid?"

"It's fine," Hot Rod replied, his voice monotonous and mechanical sounding. Drones had only basic systems, including vocal systems. "What happened?"

"Darkstar trashed you. His goons left after they thought you were done and I was able to put your spark into stasis. I got here with about three minutes to spare. They got you into this drone just before the stasis lock expired. You were lucky."

"What about my body? Has anyone retrieved it?"

Springer shook his head. "I took a sensor sweep of it and sent it to Hoist in Iacon. He said it's a total loss. We'll have to build a new one for you."

"So I'm stuck like this for a while?"

"Until the elections almost. Maybe it'll help your image, or maybe you should withdraw."

"No. I won't let Darkstar intimidate me."

"You can't campaign, though. That body can't leave this room, it's too fragile."

"Then I'll campaign from here. Just let everyone know what happened and find Darkstar. I'll need a terminal and a comlink."

"Anything else?"

"Nope. From now on this room is the Hot Rod electorial headquarters."

***

The transport was packed with all of the Decepticons and equipment. Omitron was at the controls and Scrapper activated the cloaking device he had hastily constructed for the ship. The ship became invisible to any sensors and eyes and Omitron took it out of the hangar. The cloaking device would only hold together for a few minutes, but it would be long enough to evacuate Kortex. Omitron had everything she would need until she returned and smiled as she entered the atmosphere. She could detect Optimus Prime's fleet in the distance and knew that soon revenge would be hers.

The transport managed to remain cloaked until it reached the Autobot frigate, which she had christened the Imperium to signify the rebuilding of the Decepticon Empire. It was tricky, but she managed to get inside the ship's hangar with both of ships cloaked. The Decepticons gratefully left the transport and followed her up to the bridge. Omitron activated the ship's systems and Scrapper and Onslaught readied it for takeoff. Omitron took the command chair and the others took up various stations, although they barely understood them.

"All systems ready," Scrapper announced.

"Signal the rogue ship to lift off, then take us up." Scrapper nodded and a few minutes later both ships had taken to space once again, although neither could be seen. Omitron looked around with satisfaction. Nighthawk sat at the sensors station and wondered what Omitron's plan was. Omitron, as if reading her mind, turned in the chair and looked all around the room.

"You probably all want to know what our destination is, so I will tell you. We are heading to the Solar System. We will attack the Jovian moon of Io, the planet of Mercury, and Earth itself."

"We're all going to die," Dirge grumbled.

"No. Using the cloaking devices and quick hit‑and‑run attacks we will hit strategic targets. Our mission this time is not to conquer, but to gather resources. Io's gravimetric and geothermic powerplants and Mercury's solar collectors provide huge amounts of energy. Earth has something even more valuable, machinery that can construct new bodies for our comrades in stasis. Using the metals gathered from the Vala colonies we will be able to rebuild our comrades and increase our army. The energy we gather will fuel our conquest."

"The secret is to hit all three targets at once. Scrapper will take the transport and access the solar collectors, which will beam energy into a container I designed. The rogue ship will take the Io power plants and fill it with energon. We will attack a factory in the Amazon rainforests where the humans have been constructing primitive machines designed to fight us. We will have to be quick or else the Earth forces will be all over us, but it should not take long, especially since our attacks will all be very sudden. We will then retreat to Kortex to begin preparing for a renewed offensive." Omitron looked around and saw that everyone was impressed. Bugly had been similarily impressed and he was a military strategist, so she had faith in her plan.

"What is this factory on Earth? I have never heard of the humans constructing such machines," Nighthawk spoke up.

Omitron smiled, "The factory was built months ago and kept secret from even the humans. However, our comrade, Ravage, has been operating on Earth since the end of the war and providing me with intelligence data. Since he can make himself invisible no one has been able to find him and by using some clever piggybacking on Autobot transmissions I have been able to communicate with him regularly. Ravage will remain on Earth after our attack to continue providing us with data and I have informed him to stay away from the fighting so he is not spotted. Through his bravery I have managed to learn much about the humans and their plans."

Nighthawk was impressed and said as much. That Ravage had been inserted and continued to go unnoticed for over eight years was a fine piece of espianoge. Then again the human's intelligence network was feeble to begin with and since Bumblebee's defection to the rogues the Autobot network had not been very effective either. Still, most agents were discovered after a couple of years. Omitron is clever, too clever, Nighthawk thought. The Autobots don't have a chance. The Decepticons cheered the plan and Nighthawk joined in. In two weeks the attack would begin and the Decepticon Empire would be reborn.