Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Old Iacon

In the subterranean Autobot HQ, the sudden burst of light from the Space Bridge, the crowning feature of the Palace of the Primes, left the usually dim city-scape as bright as a sunburst. For a moment, a rush of panic hit as the fear of a bombing overtook all, before the actual cause was discovered.

As he’d been busy helping Elita to get the main city area in order, Optimus hadn’t been able to get in to the main cause of the issue until several hours after it happened. To his relief, the area had already gotten into position, with Prowl overlooking the situation as Ratchet ran a diagnostic. Two guards stood to either side of the main gate, shooing curious civilians off. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, he recognized as he got close.

The twins reacted immediately as he drove up. “Optimus, sir!” Sunstreaker called out, taking the lead as usual. “We’ve got the area locked down.”

“Good work,” Optimus returned, taking his robot form as approached. “Any update on what happened here?”

“We haven’t heard anything yet,” Sideswipe replied. “We were just-”

Any further explanation was interrupted by a sudden onslaught of percussive maintenance and a number of colorful exclamations that signaled a stall in the investigation. “I’ll take that as an answer,” Optimus stated, giving the twins a nod. “Remain where you are; you may be needed.”

“Sir, yes sir!” The twins threw a second salute before moving to let him pass.

As he made his way into the palace courtyard, he found the source of the exclamation. Ratchet was glaring down at the portable control panel that had been plugged into the base of the still-glowing Space Bridge. Prowl was also nearby, rapidly trying to straighten out a pile of carved schematics that, from the look of them, had recently been used in a makeshift discus throw.

Seeing Optimus approach, Ratchet let out a growl. “Dang it, Prime, I’m a medic, not glitching Space Bridge tech!”

“I suppose there hasn’t been any progress in figuring out what’s going on,” Optimus commented, choosing to ignore his medic’s choice of tone and language.

Prowl opted to answer instead, using his usual matter-of-fact tone. "We actually have determined the Space Bridge to be in far better condition than previously assumed, sir. It appears to be receiving Energon from an unidentified source, which was what caused the unexpected powering.”

“Unidentified?”

“Whatever happened,” Ratchet translated, “it was from another end. The end we aren't on."

“So we can’t control it?”

“At this time, no.” Prowl seemed content with straightening his files and tucked them under one arm. “There also doesn’t appear to be any logical reason for the Bridge to power on now, not at least without anyone messing with it. It also seems to be implausible from the other end, since no one's attempted to come through.”

“And the odds that it was on our end?” Optimus asked.

“Slim but not impossible. That’s what Ratchet was looking for when we ran into…” Prowl trailed off a little under the heat of Ratchet’s glare. “...technical difficulties. And, might I add, it would be imprudent of us to try to cross through without someone on our end who understands how this all works.”

Optimus nodded at the advise. “Agreed, but there in lies the difficulty. I understand Space Bridges are a rather niche field of study,” he commented, circumventing another rant  from Ratchet. “Do we know of anyone more experienced with the field?”

“At this moment, I’m uncertain.” Prowl crossed his arms and tilted his head in thought. “There might be some files on anyone with a history of research in the field. It’s going to be pretty rough, though. We’ll probably need to dip into university files.”

“Do it,” Optimus ordered. “If it is prudent to ask for their help, it’ll be the best option we have.”

Now alone, Optimus started to examine the glowing space bridge for himself, when his radio buzzed a few moments later. “Jazz to OP! Got an update surface-side, and it’s really something!”

“I’m here, Jazz,” Optimus commented, stepping off to one side. “Does it have to do with the Space Bridge incident?”

“From what we’ve dug up,” Jazz returned, “it’s not just Old Iacon. Just about every city-state’s gotten a Space Bridge lit up like a festival.”

“That’s going to make things rough,” Ratchet murmured as he worked on disconnecting the consol. “If all of Cybertron lit up like this, that means most to all experts will have their servos full. No one will have time for us.”

“That Doc-bot on the other end?” Jazz asked, noting the new voice.

“Yes,” Optimus returned. “Ratchet’s here, examining our bridge. Work’s slow, though, and Prowl just went to comb the university records for a Space Bridge expert.”

“Oh, no need to do that!” Jazz’s voice carried a chipper tone. “I know just the bot to talk to!”

“He won’t be too busy?” Optimus asked.

“Not unless the farming lull season’s ended."

“I’m sorry, what?” Ratchet paused and turned with an incredulous look. “What would a Space Bridge expert have to do with an Energon farm?”

“Never finished his degree,” Jazz explained. “But if I know Bulkhead, he’ll be happy enough to help.”

“That clutz!” Ratchet exclaimed, though further protest was cut off by Optimus with a gesture.

“Are you sure Bulkhead won’t be too busy?” he asked, keeping direct eye contact with Ratchet.

“Won’t hurt to check,” Jazz replied casually. “It’ll be a little bit of a drive to get out to the Lithium Flats, but Ol’ Iacon will’ve drifted closer by the time we’ve had some time to talk.”

“Do it,” Optimus ordered.

"You got it!” Jazz assured. “Just make sure the bridge is still standing when we get back.

Before Optimus could answer, there was another clunk followed by a line of threats from Ratchet. “We’ll do our best,” Optimus assured. “Good luck.”

Chapter Text

Metrotitan Research Facilities

Wheeljack had been left working on his own yet again. It wasn’t that he really minded it; he liked the peace that came with the empty laboratory. Still, he did wish there was a little more support when he worked on his projects, at least to help speed things along.

Not that he questioned why no one wanted to be on his team.

“Well, that explosion wasn’t too bad,” he mumbled to himself, taking into account all of his damages. “Nothing my internal systems won’t repair for themselves. And I got it into the blast testing center this time! Now I just need to worry about getting myself out before it goes off.”

Brushing off his servos, he returned to his work station and the spare pieces of the EMP shell he’d been working on. “Not enough electrical charge in that last one,” he murmured as he started putting parts of his prototype together. “Good for me, but we’ll need at least 15%...no 25% more before it’s ready.” 

As he worked, he mumbled to himself this or that. He pieced together his work until he had the shell he was content with. Some scrap here, a piece of an old engine here, along with explosive and electronic components. Anything he didn’t need was tossed to one side and ignored. He continued on this way until he finally had a prototype he was content with.  “There! Got it! At least, I think so.” He turned the prototype, a small tear-shaped metal shell over as he thought. “It might work better if given a good coat of salizite-alloy paint. Oh, well. That’ll be if we get this working right at all. Time to test again!”

Now content with his work, he shuffled over to the testing station at the back of the room. Unfortunately, as he was moving over, he failed to notice a small piece of engine that had fallen directly into his path. Stepping heavily on it, he was sent flying so suddenly he ended up partially transformed, while the prototype headed in another direction and went off on impact.

After keeping down for a moment, Wheeljack untangled himself and pushed up to his feet. “Well, at least that one had less of an explosive effect,” he mumbled to himself. “Though, I should work on how sensitive the trigger is.”

Once back up and standing, Wheeljack turned to check on the damage the sudden discharge did. “Well, looks like there wasn’t so much of a combustion,” he noted to himself. “Good for now, but there’ll need to be more of a balance for the real deal. As for the electrical…”

He trailed of one the sudden realization of where the prototype had gone off. The scorch markings spoke to the successful release of electricity right into the center databases.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, come on, no, no, no!” Springing to work, he started typing away at the center monitor. Sure enough, the EMP pulse had done it’s work, forcing the direct databases into a hard reset and erasing everything.

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” Wheeljack searched all through the systems, desperate too find something that might repair the damages done . Initially, his search was fruitless, only showing how thorough the erasure had been. After some time and terror, however, he landed on something buried deep. All Data Backup, Security level 12.

Had Wheeljack been thinking with a cooler head, he would have recognized he only had security level 4. This system backup should not have been in reach, and wouldn’t have been without the internal damages. Unfortunately, he wasn’t thinking clearly, and was just in a rush to get everything fixed before he was caught. Thus, he activated the backup and let himself slump back in relief as things reset.

It wasn’t until things had started to reload that he noticed something was off. Notes and files he’d never seen before started to flash on screen. “What on Cybertron?” The notes, addressed to “all approved recipients” had been sent from someone marked Head of Research. They were quite old, though he’d never seen them before.

A more cautious bot would have realized the message was not for him and left, but curiosity overtook Wheeljack, and in spite of himself, he opened up the notice.

“Most honored members of the Research and Development Divisions of the connected research departments,” Wheeljack muttered allowed, “I currently am honored to…” His voice trailed off to a mumbled series of near-inaudible syllables, as was his habit while reading. Most of it was uninteresting platitudes, as was common in the messages of  high ranking officials. Typical back-patting parties that completely uninterested him, to the point that he was on the verge of just clicking off with boredom.

Then he reached the portion of the email that got into the details of the work, aligned with photos. The image of a bot, completely stripped of his outer shell caused Wheeljack to freeze. The bright glow coming from the bot’s sparkcase signaled that the subject of the photo was alive in spite of his state, and the whole area was smeared with hydrolics and liquid Energon spilling out from the open wounds.

Ice seemed to fill Wheeljack’s fuel pumps at the sight of the photo, but he couldn’t seem to look away. He scanned the messages, hoping beyond hope for any sign this was some atrocity being committed by old enemies before the ceasefire.

He found the exact opposite. From how the message was written, whoever sent it had not only done the experiment, but was quite proud of the results. The writer then went on to reference other, similarly gruesome experimentation and how they were coming along, and mentioned that the vehicon guards were working just fine.

Optic working quickly, he rushed past any other photos to see who had sent out this message. The signature at the bottom only intensified his fear. “I am,” he read, the sudden chill forcing the words out, “your obedient servant and humble head of the Scientific Research and Development Union, Shockwave.” Underneath the message was the image of a single optic that, strangely, gave Wheeljack the distinct feeling that it was actually watching him.

Sudden realization and revulsion filled him in an instant. In a moment, a single thought entered Wheeljack’s processor, and a sudden instinct for survival drove him on. Without stopping to clean, without stopping even to shut out the lights, he turned and left the lab.

Upon making it out of the research facility, he transformed into his transport form and took off. Ignoring any bots who were out and about at that time of night, he headed out to the main gates of Metrotitan.

As expected, the gates were locked, and as he pulled up, the guards called a halt. “State your purpose,” a yellow bot called out, not really bothering to even look up.

“Inter-territory transport,” Wheeljack replied, absentmindedly handing over his facility ID. 

The guard glanced at the ID, and seemed pleased by it. “Destination?”

“Huh?”

“Destination,” the guard repeated, handing the ID back. “Where are you going to?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wheeljack paused, realizing in his shock he hadn’t considered where he was going. That would probably be important.

Still, even if he knew, he doubted it would be a good idea to admit to it when he had been seen and likely was being followed. If the research facility was working with Shockwave, and Shockwave had power in Metrotitan, than anywhere with even mildly friendly connections would likely be dangerous.

“Polyhex,” he eventually got out, the only other city-state he could think of.

"Polyhex?” he repeated as he handed the ID back.

“Yep, that's where I want to report.” Wheejack hastily replied.

For a moment, he was worried the guard would push on, but his anxiety had been needless. "ID came back positive. Good luck traveling. Stay out of No-Bot Zones.” He then buzzed the gate, which opened with a groan. “And go fast; bosses don’t like bots coming and going this late.”

“Roger that!” Wheeljack tossed a salute before resting his transporter form and rushing out onto the road. At first, he headed off in the direction of Polyhex, just in case he was being watched, before he paused at an empty rest-zone.

“Alright, think, Wheeljack, think!” he scolded himself as he too his bot form again. “Where can you go to get help where Shockwave and his cronies most likley won’t find you?” His mind raced, jumping from tangent to tangent as he tried to identify where he could go or who he could turn to. “I could ask…no, he’s back in Iacon City, no way I could get there. Maybe…no, no, she said never to talk to her again. I know just…wait, that person was fictional. Uh! It’s no use!”

In frustration, he smacked a rusted old filing cabinet. In response, the door sagged open, revealing old sets of sculpting and welding materials. In spite of his panic, a pleasant memory sparked up, drawing Wheeljack to better times. “Heh, that looks like the set Bulkhead and I used to rig up that space-bridge model demonstration.” He picked up one of the tools and examined it in a sense of nostalgia. “Still in good working-that’s it!”

Snapping his fingers, Wheeljack snatched up the set and scanned it with a copying function in his arm. “Bulkhead said his old farm was near the Lithium Flats raceway. That area’s near No-Bot’s land and Energon farms are protected regions. I’ll bet he’ll know what to do!”

With a destination finally chosen, Wheeljack shifted to his transporter form before rushing off in the direction of what he hoped was safety.

Chapter Text

Silverstrike Oil House, Sonic Canyon

Sonic Canyon was a nightmare to travel through due to the harsh terrain, close quarters, and abundance of pests that scurried around the trails. Before the war, that meant only the most intense of nature lovers even thought of trekking along the banks at the bottom. During the war and even with the ceasefire, however, many of the caverns became havens for the toughest of the unaligneds.

Ironhide leaned back at the Silverstrike Oil House, a glass of liquid emerald Energon in hand. Work had been slow for a while. Bounties lying low, he supposed. Not that he minded the break, but credits were getting a bit tight.

He’d been watching one of the bar’s namesakes, a silvery insectoid with twelve legs and a nasty sting, working its way across the bar when the tap came at his shoulder. “Um, sir, I’m looking for Mr. Ironhide? Would you know where he is?”

Ironhide glanced over at the newcomer. City bot if he’d ever seen one. Metrotitan, guessing from the accent. He looked incredibly uncomfortable with the rough surroundings. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“I’m Datatrack, and I’m looking to hire a bounty hunter on behalf of the Metrotitan Research Facility,” the bot, a relatively small green flier, stated. “It is a matter of utmost urgency.”

“Always is.” Ironhide took a draft of his Energon before turning to the bot. “Well, you’re speaking to him. What’s the job?”

“Excellent!” The flier moved in quickly, sliding over a data pad. “This is the individual in question.”

Ironhide glanced down at the photo. A white bot with a heavy face-mask and head fins peered out. He seemed to be looking off center, as if he’d been distracted the moment the picture was taken.

“Doesn’t look all that tough,” he commented, turning back to his Energon.

“He’s not, not really.” Datatrack shuffled a little uncomfortably. “It’s really more his processor the MRF is concerned about.”

“Genius then?” Ironhide asked.

“Very much so.” Dateline took a seat nearby as he pulled the datapad back. “Wheeljack is a major weapons engineer for the MRF, and one who’s likely contributed more on his own than any other worker on-premises.”

“Interesting that you're getting a bounty hunter on your best bot, then.”

“Ah, heh, yes. That’s kind of the issue.” Datatrack paused, and there was a grinding in his jaw. “You see, brilliant as he is, Wheeljack is rather…eccentric.”

Ironhide couldn’t hold back the laugh. “So the guy’s a crankcase.”

“Crankcase would be something of an exaggeration.” There was an awkward pause, and Ironhide guessed Datatrack was trying to figure out how to word things to make them sound better. “His inventions are brilliant, but his thought processes can be hard to follow. Hard enough that they can make following safety procedures difficult.”

“In other words, a crankcase.”

 “I assure you-”

“Hold your horsepower. I didn’t say that was a deal breaker.” Ironhide finished off his Energon before turning back. “What pay are we talking?”

“Oh, yes. The pay.” Datatrack seemed significantly more comfortable with this line of conversation, and began adjusting the tablet accordingly. “The MRF was hoping to hire you on at eight thousand credits. Wheeljack had last been seen heading in the direction of Polyhex, though he eventually left that path in the direction of the Lithium Flats and it is unknown where he is going to.”

“Eight thousand?” Ironhide let out a sharp, derisive buzz. “You’re dreaming. I don’t work for less than thirty.”

“I assure you this is quite a generous offer.”

“For finding a electro-hound, maybe,” Ironhide replied. “Mechs are higher.”

“Alright. Give me a moment.”

Ironhide kept a close watch on Datatrack as he left. He knew well the pattern that would come next. The negotiator would call his bosses and report that the bounty hunter was being stubborn. The (massively overestimated) counter offer would be explained. There would be a discussion on how much they were willing to meet, which based on the hunter’s reputation would be close to one of the two estimates. From Datatrack’s face, this was a pretty heavy debate.

Ironhide was debating getting another Energon when Datatrack returned. “They’ve approved a raise to twenty-two thousand credits,” he stated, “provided you accept payment upon bringing him in.”

Frankly, Ironhide had been expecting fifteen. “Deal. I’ll find your crank, just leave it to me.”

Datatrack wordlessly bristled, still clearly not comfortable with Ironhide’s terminology, but apparently decided not to comment. “Very well. Are there any questions before things are official?”

“Just one. You have any hints where he might be off to?”

“I assure you, if we did, we would not be hiring your services.”

“Still, he must have family or friends somewhere,” Ironhide replied. “Sure, he’s not going to Polyhex, but he’s bound to be going somewhere.”

“I don’t think…” Datatrack started, but then he paused. “Wheeljack is something of a recluse, but if I remember correctly, he did have some friends from Iacon University. Perhaps he’d headed in that direction.” 

Ironhide nodded. “That’ll do then. I've gone over their student lists in the past. Probably can make a connection from there. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held out his hand to shake.

Datatrack paused and instead handed over a small datacard. “Here’s the number. Contact us when you find him.” He then turned and left with a speed that spoke to no small amount of relief.

Ironhide watched with some amusement as he headed out. “Citybots,” he mused to himself with a shake of his head. “Well, at least this probably will be easy, then.” Setting down his payment for the Energon, he headed out the door.

–

Inside his personal ship, The Death’s Head, Lockdown was working on adjusting a recently-gained net cannon he’d attached to his arm. It was pulling a little to the left, but that was easily shifted. The bot he’d got it from seemed rather fond of it, so once he’d gotten it in order, it should be useful.

He was distracted from his work by a chime at his computer. “Well, looks like a customer,” he commented to himself as he went to check. When he saw the name at the top, a grin spread across his face. “Ah, anonymous. My favorite customer.”

The bounty in it was short and simple. The image of a white mech with green detailing and noticeable headfins. Name: Wheeljack. Last seen leaving Metrotitan. Claimed to be headed to Polyhex, but course corrected in the direction of the Lithium Flats. Status wanted: Dead. Full Payment: 100,000 credits plus trophies. Accepted?

“Well, Wheeljack,” Lockdown mused as he looked over the information. “Someone really wants you offline. Shame for you.” He gave a nod before hitting the accept button. “Easy payday for me, though."

Chapter Text

The first couple of days on the lam were rough for Wheeljack. He wasn’t used to life in the wilds, and his own lack of preparation before heading out quickly came to bite him in the afterburner. In particular, finding ways to scrap for Energon while avoiding any guards keeping watch on demilitarized borders. More than once did he find himself scrounging in scrap piles left in ruined settlements still left unrepaired.

Still, it was better than the alternative. Memories of that de-armored bot and the writings on the Vehicon experiments and highlighted by that eye spurred him on, desperate to find a solution or hiding place that would put him far out of Shockwave’s reach. He had no idea what that would be, but he was confident that Bulkhead would have an idea. Bulkhead was always better at dealing with others than Wheeljack was.

And so his rush went on for a few solar cycles, with it initially seeming like he might actually make it to his destination without too much struggle. Of course, it is always in those moments where victory is right in view that the biggest hurtles arise.

He’d been making it through the wastelands just outside the Lithium Flats, moving as quickly as his wheels would take him in an effort to arrive quickly. He’d been so focused on the horizon, seeking out any sign of a farmstead, that he didn’t notice the oilslick left in front of him. Nor did he notice when he went sailing through it, coating his wheels.

He certainly noticed, however, when he spotted the mech aiming a cannon at him. He swerved, dodging off to one side in an effort to go around what he presumed was an city-state guard. Had he not just gone through an oil slick, he’d have worked his way around with ease and taken another route to his destination.

As he had just gone through an oil slick, he instead spun out of control and soon found himself slammed into the side of an abandoned war transport.

On instinct, Wheeljack shifted back to his bot form, only to find himself grabbed by the wrist and cuff slapped onto it. It took him a moment to realize what happened before he was hauled to his peds by a huge red mech holding tight to his arm and shoulder.

The mech shook his head. “Well,” he commented in a thickly accented voice, “that was almost too easy.”

“Easy?” Wheeljack attempted to jerk his arm away, but the mech’s grip was too tight. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“Name’s Ironhide,” the mech replied with a casual shrug. “I was hired by your bosses to bring you in. I wouldn't struggle too hard, though, you’re still greased up. Liable to end up crashing yourself again.”

“Bring me in!” Images of dissection tables and horror-story monsters flashed through his processor, and he began struggling harder. “I”m not going in! He’ll kill me! Or worse, he’s unkill me!”

“Quit squirmin'. You’re not gonna die.” Ironhide did not appear all to concerned about Wheeljack’s protests, and just casually shoved him into a sitting position. “They specifically wanted you alive, and I mean to hand ya over in one piece.”

“That only makes things worse! It means he wants to cut me open!” Turning over, Wheeljack attempted to take his transport form, but found the heavy brace locked around his wrist kept from a proper transformation. Still, he had no intention of staying back to be handed over, so he attempted an awkward shuffle away half-transformed and on oil-slicked wheels.

As might be expected, he didn’t get far before Ironhide calmly picked him up. “No one’s gonna cut you open, kid. Your bosses said they still need ya, so you’ll be fine.”

“It’s their boss I’m worried about!” Wheeljack scanned the area to find anything that would be worthwhile. Mostly just metal chunks, sand-shavings, and a whole ton of nothing. If only there were something rope or chain like. Unfortunately, there was nothing of the sort in sight. 

“Their boss?” Ironhide chuckled. “I thought you Metrotitians held elections. If you don’t like your senate, its your own fault.”

“Not them, Shockwave!” While Wheeljack had surrendered on taking his vehicle mode and fully changed back to bot, he started smacking the shackle against the nearest boulder. It wasn’t likely to do any good, but it might keep Ironhide from noticing the real escape plan. When he got one, anyway.

Ironhide let out a sudden, hearty laugh at the response. “Shockwave? That lunatic doctor? You know, the one who’s dead? ”

“He’s not dead!” Wheeljack paused in both real and faux escape plans, desperation to be believed running through his systems. “I saw it all myself! He’s alive, and he’s still up to his old tricks. I read the report, saw a still-living bot with no armor! His spark was exposed and everything! I even read he succeeded at making Vehicons! Do you hear me!? Vehicons! That mad bot made Vehicons!”

A sudden and chilling idea hit Wheeljack in that moment. “He’s gonna turn me into a Vehicon. That’s why he sent you after me. He’s going to take me and kill me and make me into a Vehicon! I don’t want to be a shambling shell!” With a renewed vigor, he began slamming the shackle against the boulder again, this time with a force enough to damage both shackle and boulder, albeit not enough to break either completely.

All through the rant, Ironhide had sat quietly, arms crossed and a look of stern confusion on his faceplate. He then shook his head at the maddened attempt. “Man, your boss said you were a crank, but I didn’t think it went this far.”

“I’m not a crack!” Wheeljack snapped, pausing in his attempt to escape. “Well, maybe I am in some situations. It would explain why I have trouble socializing. But I’m not a crank in this case; Shockwave is alive and after me!”

Ironhide just rolled his optic. “Next you’ll say Unicron is after you.”

“That one’s not fair, Unicron is after everyone. He’s just so far away in space that we won’t have to deal with him for a while, and then it’s up to the Prime,” Wheeljack stated calmly, before turning back to his maddened banging.

“Ah, sweet Solus’ sparkcase,” Ironhide groaned. “Look, you’re not gonna get hurt. Like I said, you’re too valuable. If then wanted you dead, they wouldn’t have stipulated ‘alive.’ If you’d just put some breaks on it-”

“You put some breaks on it! You’re not the one who’s gonna be made a Vehicon!”

Ironhide gritted his jaw. “Look, keep deformin' your arm if that’s what you want. I’m callin' you in.” He then tapped at a button on the side of his helmet and stated to enter in the contact combo.

Wheeljack kept an eye on Ironhide as he worked and made sure to add some extra energy to the banging to keep up the facade that was his only plan. As he did, he looked a little closer to figure out what was at his benefit. The boulder he was banging against was producing sparks. In must be a combust-alloy. Lithium Flats had a lot of it around, which is why it was favored for racing. Made the races more exciting when sparks start flying.

If he could switch his hand to a sculpting multitool, he could carve off a chunk and make a makeshift torch. That would take time, though, and it was more than likely that Ironhide would catch him before he could get it out. There was that green glint, too.

Wait, green glint?

Moving more on instinct than anything else, Wheeljack rolled to one side, away from Ironhide. Just as he did, a pinpoint shot hit the combust-alloy boulder, sending a thin but intense burst of flame shooting right around spark-level to where he had been.

Not waiting to see what was going to happen next, he jumped to his feet and took off running. Of course, he didn’t run long before another shot went off, this time in front of him sending chunks of the ground flying  and leaving a pit for him to trip on.

Pain shot up Wheeljack’s leg as the jagged edge of the pit left a hole in his armor. It didn’t look like it cut too deep, but the blue-white glow of electric sparks illuminated the hydraulics flowing through the wound, making him a bit dizzy at the sight.

Not that he had to look at it long. In a moment, a hand caught him at the neck, dragging him face to face with his attacker. For a moment, he expected Ironhide, though in hindsight that wouldn’t have made sense. Instead, he was peering into the red optics of a mech whose face was painted black and white.

“Almost disappointed,” the mech commented, giving a demented grin. “I typically prefer it when the prey puts up more of a fight.” He then pulled out a long blade with a glowing blue edge and brought it up to Wheeljacks’ chest.

Before the killing blow could be made, however, there was a sudden jolt and the newcomer was forced to drop Wheeljack. In another moment, he was yanked to his feet and roughly shoved behind a boulder.

It took Wheeljack a moment to realize Ironhide had intervened. The armored mech stood between him and the newcomer, a huge cannon at the ready.  “Move right along, Lockdown,” he growled. “This bounty is mine.”

“Ironhide! Long time no see.” Lockdown smiled like an umbracat. “Still running the bounty game? I’d have expected you to have retired by now, old mech.”

“Still got enough in me to deal with a rip like you.” In a flash, two bars rose up from Ironhide’s chest, forming a square in front of his face. The square began to glow, likely indicating an energy shield. “Like I said before, get on your way. I’ve taken this bounty.”

“It might be the same bot, but I doubt its the same bounty.” Lockdown’s hand slid back to allow him to drop the knife into his arm. At the same time, a small cannon rose out of his shoulder. “Glitchhead’s mine.”

Seeing where things were headed, Wheeljack decided it would be best if he got himself out of there, transformed or not. Hoping the two bounty hunters would distract each other long enough for him to get away, he turned and started running as hard as he could in the opposite direction, doing his best to ignore the pain in his wounded leg.

That proved to be a mistake. As soon as he’d started running, both hunters turned to him, opening fire. A pain jolted through his body as a stunner hit the middle of his back. He was fortunate that one reached him first, as he fell just in time for a missile to whiz above his head and slam into a combust-alloy boulder. It took the hit with a hefty force, blasting in a fireball that stopped just shot of Wheeljack’s head.

As he was still processing the heat of the flames, a net shot out and entangled him in the mesh. In a moment, he was scooped up and swung over a particularly large outcropping of metal. He was left dangling high enough that a drop would hurt, but he'd live.

“Stay there!” Ironhide only had enough time to bark the order before he took a few shots from Lockdown, and was forced to jump to one side before the younger hunter sprang on him. 

Ironhide was older and slower than Lockdown, but he was the bigger and tougher of the two. As soon as he’d moved out of his original position, he spun around, striking Lockdown with a hit to the side that left a dent. He the used the large cannon on his right arm, unleashing a spray of a blue fluid that trapped his opponent to the ground. Liquid nitrogen cannon, Wheeljack guessed.

Lockdown was frozen for a moment, but another gun emerged from under his chin, nailing Ironhide a few times in the chest and face shield. They weren’t hefty blows, but they were enough to force Ironhide to pull back on the defensive as Lockdown smashed out of the nitrogen.

Once freed, Lockdown leapt towards the trapped Wheeljack and aimed a small missile cannon. He completely missed that Ironhide had recovered and jumped up, catching Lockdown in a headlock and unleashing another spray of liquid nitrogen to slow the younger hunter down.

Now it was Wheeljack’s turn to act fast. While the two hunters were distracted with each other, he seized the unlaunched missile from Lockdown and shoved the cuff into the spray of liquid nitrogen before the hunters pulled away from him. As soon as the combatants had pulled away, he moved as fast as he could and smashed the now freezing cuff into the side of the outcropping. Just as he expected, the nitrogen caused the cuff to become brittle, and it shattered with a good, hard hit. He was left with a few cracks in his arm, but he also now had a tough semicircle of metal.

Moving as fast as he could, he gathered a bunch of net fibers and shoved them inside the hollow of the semicircle. Switching his hand into a welder and dropping his optic-shield, he welded the circle and as much of the net’s metallic fibers together. The circle was too small to fit all the way around the missile, but with a level surface formed from the melted net,  he could attach all the elements together.

Once his handiwork was complete, he switched the welder to a carving tool and cut off a chunk of the combust alloy out of the outcropping and shoved it into the back of the missile. “Hope this is enough,” he murmured to himself as he switched back to the welder and set the chunk alight.

As expected, the makeshift rocket singed him as it shot off, but it took off with enough force that it carried the whole net, including him, high over the battle field. Of course, when the bounty hunters realized what was happening, they paused in their struggle with each other to fire on him, but by that point, he’d gotten high enough only a flier would have been able to reach him.

“Well, that solves one problem,” Wheeljack said to himself with a relieved sigh. As he leaned back in his airborne hammock, as sudden glow caught his optic. “Make that two.”

Ahead and below him, the faint glow of an Energon farm in its lull season was clear and visible. Large turbines surrounded the fields, and an electrified fence provided the security. He’d reached his destination.

Or, more accurately, he’d reached the airspace above his destination without a plan on how to get down. “Uh, this might be a-”

Before he could finish his comment, a sickening blast shot through the air, causing a shock wave that left him stunned. He had only a moment to realize the missile had exploded before he started plummeting, still tangled in the net, down to the farm below.

Chapter Text

“How’s the input reading on that pink field?” Bulkhead called out, keeping a hold of the turbine tower they were repairing. 

“Input looks good,” Hatchback replied. The smaller, blue mech tapped at the screen on the Energon reader before going on. “It’s on the rise, but it shouldn’t be too hard to differentiate between the starter power source and the field.”

“Good to hear.” Bulkhead shuffled a little, settling the tower post a bit deeper while Hatchback started to weld. “Remember when that comm pole got set up a little too close to the green field?”

Hatchback gave a buzzing laugh. “Yeah, Joule just about had a conniption. Could have sworn she was gonna rip that army sergeant’s head clean off.”

As they worked, a sudden high pitched squealing started up. “Do you hear something?” Hatchback asked, optics turning skyward.

“Now that you mention it, yeah.” Bulkhead followed Hatchback’s gaze. “Sounds like it’s getting closer, too.”

It didn’t take too long to find the source of the sound: a speck overhead that was rapidly growing in size. It also was becoming clear what the sound was. A scream.

“That’s a bot!” Immediately, Bulkhead rushed out to the supply shed. Even with the war on pause, it wasn’t unheard of for a flyer to be shot out of the sky above a farm, so planning measures had been set into place. He grabbed a net pack and rushed out to where it looked like the bot was going to land.

Hatchback nodded and followed suit, nabbing a set of wire cutters. “Think it’s a spy who got shot down?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to check. Gotta catch him first, though.” Transforming his arm into his wrecking ball cannon, Bulkhead swapped out the typical wrecker for the net pack. Locking it in, he took aim at the bot (who now was close enough for his silhouette to be visible) and fired.

The net pack hit home, encapsulating the bot in mesh fibers while deploying a parachute. As the pack had been hooked into Bulkhead’s wrecking system, he was able to reel it in until the bot was on the ground in front of them, a mass of wire and covered by the parachute, but still very much alive.

“Now to see what side you’re from.” Hatchback sprang forward to cut through the wires while Bulkhead reattached the wrecking ball and braced himself in case the bot was hostile.

His caution hadn’t been needed, as he recognized the newcomer as soon as the net was cut open. Or, as it turned out, nets. “Wheeljack?”

Wheeljack had been staring in the opposite direction after wiggling his upper half free of the tangle of wires, but he turned right around. “Bulkhead! I knew I was headed in the right direction!” He attempted to head over, but had apparent forgotten that his lower half was still trapped. He immediately fell flat on his faceplate, tangling himself worse in the netting.

“Hey, hold still.” Transforming his arm back, Bulkhead hurried over to prop Wheeljack up as Hatchback cut away the rest of the netting. “What are you doing here? And why did you fall out of the sky?”

“Had to use a rocket to get away from the bounty hunters. No one’s turning me into a vehicon today!”

“What?”

“Of course, I hadn’t considered how I was going to get down from there. Thanks for the save, by the way.” His strange comments would have been infuriating if it weren’t for his genuinely grateful tone.

“Ok, slow down.” Bulkhead took a moment to ground himself. “First things first- how did you get here? I thought you went back to Metrotitan after the recall happened.”

“I did,” Wheeljack responded, casually shaking the wire cuttings off as he regained his footing. “I just discovered the Metrotitan Research Facility is in league with Shockwave so I had to run.”

“Wait,” Hatchback stated, taking a step forward. “Shockwave? That Iaconian mad scientist? Wasn’t he executed?”

“That’s what I thought too!” Wheeljack gave a chipper nod, completely missing the disbelief in his companions’ faces. “He’s been alive this whole time! And he’s still up to his games. I had to get away fast, though he still hired a bounty hunter, so I guess it wasn’t fast enough.”

It was then that Bulkhead noticed the state Wheeljack was in. Dusted over, as if he’d not had an opportunity to hit a cleaning station in weeks. Scratches gouged his paint along his arms and legs. His right wrist and hand had cracks in them, and a nasty gash in his leg leaked fluid and let out a few sparks every now and again. “Jacky, what happened to you?”

“A lot. You’ll need to be a bit more specific.”

“Your leg, then, to start with.”

“My leg?” Wheeljack looked down, his optics grew wide, and he stumbled a little. It was as if it was the first time he noticed the gash in his leg. “Oh, right. My leg. I think that happened when I tripped in the crater.” 

Bulkhead reached out to stabilize Wheeljack, as it seemed like he was going to topple over. “We’d better get you inside,” he stated, directing Wheeljack in the direction of the main farmhouse. “Once you’ve gotten cleaned up and some Energon, you can clarify what you mean.” 

“Right, Energon.” Wheeljack automatically obeyed, only just barely tearing his optic off his wounded leg.

As he stumbled off, Hatchback dropped alongside Bulkhead. “Bulkhead, how do you know this guy?”

“Old school friend,” he answered.

“Was he always like this?”

“Usually, but never with the injuries.” Bulkhead frowned. “Something’s really wrong here.”

Chapter Text

The roar of the rocket had shaken Ironhide and Lockdown from their direct duel just in time to see the bounty sail into the air. Neither of them being fliers, all they could do was aim at the rocket and shoot. Unfortunately, it was too small and fast, and soon the bounty was out of sight.

“Leakin’ lubricants,” Ironhide grumbled. “How’d he do that?”

A rev of an engine shook him out of his search, and Ironhide realized he was alone. “Huh, not gonna stay for round two? I’d have expected more.”

“Might be for the best,” he added, noting the small scratches and dents along his armor. “Round two’s coming. Better get ready myself.”

Turning to scan the horizon, he took a quick photo and began scanning local access databases to see what might be in that direction. As he went over his possibilities, he started repairing the minor damages to give his hands something to do.

He didn’t have to wait too long. “Farming land, huh?” Ironhide commented to himself. “Least I know it’ll be something I’m familiar with.”

Finishing up with his tools, he stood, stretched out, and took note of the direction of the nearest farm. Having gotten the info he needed, he took his hauler form and headed out.

Bulkhead pressed a servo against his head as he tried to process Wheeljack’s story. “Okay, so let me see if I have this straight. You accidentally saw some emails from the head researcher that suggested that they’re in league with Shockwave. The dead mad scientist. And now Shockwave’s hired two bounty hunters to come after you?”

“Only one, actually. Pretty sure it’s mister warpaint. The old red one seemed to want me alive, so somebody else must’ve hired him,” Wheeljack corrected. "Unless he changed his mind and hired another. That's also a possibility."

He was currently seated in an equipment repair bay that doubled as the farm med station. The farm foreman, a bot named Joule, was working to apply a temp repair on his gashed leg. “You know,” he added, eyeing the tourniquet kit curiously, “with a few modifications, a laser grid shield could be added. I’d just need a few tools and some materials, if you don’t mind me borrowing a few things.”

“Not on your life.” Joule let out a huff as she finished tightening the kit. “Just about every bot that comes through here keeps ‘borrowing’ our equipment, before trouncing off never to be seen again! We don’t need your foolishness on top of everything else.”

“But it could really help in the-” He cut himself off at the enraged look in her orange optics. “Okay, sorry, answer’s no.”

Joule scowled but didn’t say anything else about it, opting to finish the work and put her tools away instead. “Should hold you for now, at least until we can find a medic to do some more detailed work. Unfortunately, we don’t have one here at the moment, and this was all the supplies we can spare. Just finish your business and get on your way.” 

She then took the tool box and headed out to the bay exit. “Bulkhead, he’s your responsibility now. Don’t let him break anything.” She then marched outside, leaving the two friends alone.

“Geez, what gave her a short circuit?” Wheeljack asked.

Bulkhead shook his head. “Don’t worry about her. Supplies are tight, what with the shortages and negotiations, and there’s been a lot of looting trouble as of late.” He gave a sigh. “We needed Autobot assistance during the last bloom season just to make sure the Iacon and Pellechrome guards coming through actually paid instead of enforcing a ‘donation for peaces efforts.’”

Wheeljack tilted his head in confusion. “Wait, I thought the farms were generally neutral, since they didn’t really fall into city-states.”

“Generally, we are. That’s not often respected. Here.” Bulkhead tossed over some solid blue Energon. “To get you back up to speed.”

“Thanks!” Wheeljack caught it in a moment and dropped his mask to take the Energon.

It took a moment of awkward silence for Wheeljack to look up and realize Bulkhead was staring at him. “Something wrong?”

“Jacky, your face…”

“My face?” Wheeljack absentmindedly ran a hand over his now revealed in-port, before running a servo over the jagged scars running across his lower faceplate. “Oh, yeah, that. Got damaged when I forgot to raise my faceplate before testing a new scattershot bomb. Since it was the fifth time I had a face-plate damage that quarter-cycle, it was decided it was more cost effective to give a quick weld and have me keep my mask up unless I’m charging. Sorry I didn’t give you any warning. Bomb worked amazingly, though!” Without another word, he cheerfully went back to energizing.

Bulkhead just stood there, rather slack-jawed. “Is this…normal for Metrotitan?”

“It became more common for repair costs to be cut back after the twelfth time they're needed.” Wheeljack gave a shrug. “I was actually pretty lucky. Most designers with a history of injuries like I do would have been let go.”

“So they just give you a chop-shop job instead?”

“Exactly!” Having finished his charge, Wheeljack snapped his mask back into place. “Not that it matters anymore. I’m not working under Shockwave, not even if there is job security.”

Bulkhead looked at his friend with a look of bafflement, looking for all the world like he was trying to say something. Eventually, he appeared to give it up and just shake his head. “Alright, lets say you are being chased by Shockwave-”

“Which I am.”

“-where do you go next?”

There was the question. Wheeljack sighed and gave a shrug. “I really don’t know. I honestly just came here as a stopgap. There were so many names on that list of recipients.” Closing his eyes, he mentally went over the number of city-states that were now dangerous. “Honestly, you’re the only one I could think of who I can trust.”

“And we can’t defend you,” Bulkhead added, his tone heavy. “Not that we don’t want to,” he added quickly, “it’s just we don’t have too much in the way of defenses.”

“Oh, I get it.” Wheeljack nodded and hope his attempt at a smile was visible. “I’ll just take a rest for a while. Maybe something will come to me.” He looked down at his raised hand, and caught a glance at the cracks running along his wrist. “Maybe get a few more self repairs in first before I go.”

Looking at the same injury, Bulkhead frowned. “That’s not a self-repair thing. You need a full-on physical by a real medic.”

“Nice idea,” Wheeljack replied with a shrug. “Know any medics who’ll do it with no pay? I’m not exactly swimming in credits at the moment.”

Bulkhead gave a laugh after a moment’s thought. “Actually, yes. In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t think of them sooner.”

“Them?”

“The Autobots!” Bulkhead let out a laugh. “They’ve helped us on more than one occasion with medical stuff or defenses. We help to support them in return, but it’s all voluntary. Should’ve thought of them from the start! They’re the answer to your hiding problems.”

“But aren’t they a medical group?” Wheeljack asked.

“Mostly,” Bulkhead agreed, “but they also work in defense and shelter of noncombatants. They’ve got a handful of warriors who left several armies before the ceasefire. Rumor has it one if their officials used to be a high-ranker from Praxus.”

“Impressive.”

“You’re telling me.” Bulkhead flashed a bright grin. “Let me tell you, as soon as we tell Prime, he and the Autobots will know exactly how to handle things.”

“So how do we contact them.”

There could have been an audible note for how Bulkhead’s enthusiasm deflated. “That’s…kind of the problem.”

“We can’t, can we?” Wheeljack hazarded.

Bulkhead shook his head. “Like I said, they tend to shelter a lot of innocents, or those too hurt to continue in the fight, and deserters. Because of that, though, they usually have to hide out unless there’s a major disturbance in the area or you really have the money and tech to force a meeting. They usually come around during the bloom season, but that’s because that’s when trouble stirs up.”

“So how long until the bloom season?”

“Around four lunar courses.”

Wheeljack let out a low whistle. “Well, that’ll be a wait.”

Chapter Text

The little farming town was exactly what Ironhide supposed it would be. A couple of lone habitations surrounding a good-sized Energon farm. Most of them empty and boarded up, but the ones nearest still active with signs of overcrowding.

Least this one’s still standing, he couldn’t help but think.

Heading to the nearest of the houses, he caught sight of some movement. A sparkling was leaning out a window, watching Ironhide close, and a grey mech rushed out the main door. “You from around here?” he asked, catching the mech as he passed by.

The mech looked Ironhide up and down, an expression of suspicion coming to his optics. This being the usual reaction bounty hunters got, it didn’t phase Ironhide. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Come here lookin’ for a bot.” Ironhide tapped his wrist, and a holo of the bounty came up. “Goes by the name Wheeljack. Have my suspicion he might have come in this direction.”

“Don’t know any Wheeljack,” the mech countered, “and as far as I know, you’re the first who drove in.”

“He’d have flown in.”

The mech glanced between the bounty and Ironhide. “But it said he’s a transport.”

“He is.”

“And he flew?”

“Long story.”

From an upper story window, the sparkling had been listening closely. Suddenly, her optics seemed to grow. “You mean like that bot Bulkhead caught?”

“Bulkhead?” Ironhide turned his attention to the sparkling. “Who’s Bulkhead?”

“One of the farm technicians,” the grey mech replied. “Probably in the main farm building right now.”

“Hatchback said he caught a funny bot falling out of the sky!” the sparkling added, stretching out her arms in demonstration. “He said he fell from real high up!”

“Sounds like my bot then,” Ironhide responded with a nod.

“Then can I go now?” The grey mech gave a huff.

Ironhide gave a shrug. “Sure thing.” He returned, and the mech took a transport mode and rushed off.

“And thank you for your help,” he added, giving a salute to the sparkling. She giggled before ducking down beneath the windowsill.

A wave of nostalgia just about took Ironhide over. Thoughts of a little farming town before the war, with sparklings just like her chasing after the jumping chips in the fields. Bots tending to the monitors in the fields as the bloom season got nearer. A voice calling out to him, eager to show him something.

Then he blinked, and the same town came back, now empty and melted to slag. The damage done so long ago there wasn’t even smoke, and any sign of the inhabitants marred by the passage of time.

“The loss was an acceptable cost.”

Catching himself, Ironhide shook the memory off. It was too long, too late. He’d moved on by now, or at least he’d told himself he had.

Besides, he had a bounty to catch.

Lockdown lay on the roof of the farm building, covered over by a camo tarp, as he waited for news. He’d figured out that, of all places, this was the most likely place the mark had come down in. Even if he hadn’t, it likely would have news over the strange story of a transport mech falling from the sky. Thus, he sat and waited.

His patience appeared to pay off when a familiar red hauler pulled up to the front gate. Well, not the bot I’m looking for, he mused to himself, but a rival’s a good sign, too. So, old timer, what do you know?

The red mech transformed and pressed the comm button on the outside of the gate. There was a sharp buzz, before an equally sharp voice answered back.

“We’re busy. What do you want?”

“Afternoon, ma’am.” Even his manners were old-fashioned. “Name’s Ironhide. I happen to be lookin’ for a bot round here, and I got word one of your workers might know where he is. You wouldn’t happen to employ a bot by the name of Bulkhead, would you?”

Bulkhead, eh? There was some new information.

“I employ a lot of bots,” the bot snapped back, “and none of them have any business with bounty hunters. Get moving!”

Well, she let something slip there. A broad smile broke across Lockdown’s face. He never said he was a bounty hunter.

Ironhide must’ve caught that slip, too, as a similar expression lit in his optics as well. “Sorry to take up your time then, ma’am,” he replied, giving a slight tip of his helm as he turned. “I’ll just get out of your system, then.”

As he left, he turned a corner, but didn’t go far. Oh, he definitely caught that skip, too, because as soon as he was far enough away, he started setting up and checking equipment.

Lockdown didn’t bother watching. If the mark made it here, he’d communicated with the farmers to let them know bounty hunters were following. The total element of surprise may be lost, but there was still a chance of a successful hunt.

He just needed to figure out where this Bulkhead hid his prey.

Chapter Text

In spite of finding out help was at least several lunar cycles away, Wheeljack appeared to be in rather high spirits. Once he’d taken energy and had enough repairs done that he, at least, wouldn’t faint from his own injuries, he’d fallen into his unconscious habit of wandering about to see what he could improve or fix. Knowing well Joule wouldn’t appreciate any currently in-use tools or materials being taken for experimentation, Bulkhead opted to show Wheeljack where the scrap was kept before being sent off.

As they prepared to leave the bay, however, Bulkhead spotted a flash of red near the main gate. In the distance and through the fence, he spotted an unfamiliar red mech standing at the entryway.

Not willing to take a risk, he shoved Wheeljack back inside. “Get down!” He struggled to keep his voice low, so the warning came almost in a hiss.

“What is it? What happened?” Thankfully, Wheeljack appeared just as attentive as Bulkhead, and his questions were delivered in a matched tone. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s someone at the main gate,” Bulkhead explained. “Big red guy, kind of beat up.”

“Thick scar, just under the right shoulder?”

Bulkhead peered around the corner. “Yep, that’s him.”

Any excitement drained out of Wheeljack’s face. He slumped back against the wall and gripped his head. “They found me. They found me already. I can’t get away.”

A sense of indignation and protectiveness rose in Bulkhead. “They haven’t found you yet, not completely. Besides, there’s no way they’re taking you, not while you’re with me.”

“Thanks.” Wheeljack appeared to perk up a bit, though the fear was still apparent in his optics. “We’ll need to figure out a way out of here, preferably without attracting attention.”

“Little late on that, bud.”

Both Bulkhead and Wheeljack jumped at the voice and looked up, just in time to see the green bot standing on the roof off the bay pointing a cannon at them.

There wasn’t time to get completely away, but Bulkhead did have enough time to throw himself between the cannon blast and Wheeljack. The missile collided with his back, sending a burning sensation and denting the armor at his back. Thankfully, though, it appeared the missile had been meant to kill Wheeljack, but was too weak to do anything more than hurt Bulkhead.

Head clouded by pain and rage, Bulkhead spun around and transformed his hand to its wrecking ball mode. It slammed into the building the bounty hunter was standing on, peeling off a chunk of the roof along with the enemy. The bounty hunter was tossed a good distance past the farm fence from the blow. By the time Bulkhead reeled in his wrecking ball, the green bounty hunter was nowhere in sight.

As soon as the dust had cleared, Wheeljack was by his side. “You ok?” 

“Sore and I’ll have a nasty dent, but not much else. We’ve got a moment now,” Bulkhead stated, leaning against the side wall to allow his internal systems to assess the damage. “Though I can’t imagine it’ll be all that long.”

“Less than we think.” Wheeljack’s voice was tense as he peered at the red bot, now coming closer to the fence. Suddenly, a very different light caught in his optic. “Do you have any more of those net things you caught me with?”

“You’ve got an idea.” Bulkhead couldn’t help but smirk.

“A hunch that’ll give us a good escape opportunity, if it works.” Whatever he was thinking, it absorbed all of Wheeljack’s attention. It was good hearing him sound more like his old self.

“That’s all I need to hear.” Bulkhead straight ended up, the slight pain as the dent evened out doing nothing to dim his spirits. “Just tell me how to help.”

The sudden explosion from the farm building, plus the sight of Lockdown sent airborne, told Ironhide he was exactly where he needed to be. Taking a brief stock of his equipment, he picked up the pace and rushed around to the fence nearest the chaos.

Sure enough, the telltale signs of a brief battle were all over the place. The roof of one building sheared off, and the entryway of another showing signs of a mid-range explosive. No bots were visible,  but the sound of a lot of movement came from deeper within the compound.

Not bothering with the front gate this time, Ironhide took hold of the chain link, ignoring the now-weakened voltage, and pulled himself over. He might get screamed at by the foreman, but if the bounty was near, that’s what mattered.

Lockdown lay for a moment, stunned from the unexpected attack. So the farmer wasn’t quite the yokel dim-bulb he’d been expecting.

Well, that just meant he’d need to come at things harder. Taking note of the cracks in his armor left from where the wrecking ball had hit him, he sprang up and took his transport mode.

Old Ironslab will have seen that hit. Better make it back so his head start doesn’t matter.

“What on Cybertron happened out there!?!”

Wheeljack jumped at the shout, suddenly startled from the work he was doing on the net kit. Looking up, he spotted a furious Joule revving in ahead of a crowd of farmers, who were milling about asking questions.

“Bounty hunters, at least one of them,” Bulkhead replied from where he had propped up the contraption. 

“Sorry about that,” Wheeljack added before going back to his welding. “Hopefully this’ll keep them tied up long enough for me to get far away from here. I’m the one they want.”

“And what is this?” Joule frowned, but her voice wasn’t harsh and she didn’t work to chase Wheeljack off, which was itself a relief.

“You see,” Wheeljack explained, though he didn’t leave his work, “I’ve set up the release on-contact net to include a release of the fire retardant foam, netting anyone in it at once. There’s also an amount of the cleaning fluid for the Energon filters, which when it reacts with the foam should quick-solidify surrounding anyone unfortunate enough to get caught inside.”

She eyed the pack, a thoughtful expression coming in her eyes. “Will it hold them?”

“Not forever, but enough to get a good head start. I’ll just need Bulkhead’s help to move it to a safe place to trigger, and then get out of your way.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him from behind,” Bulkhead added, “and hold the line while Jackie gets things running.”

 Joule stayed silent for a moment, before nodding. “Right. Hatchback, Brights, and I will help. That should get this thing further, faster.”

“You’ll help?” Wheeljack tilted his head, a little taken aback by the offer. “Thank you, I don’t know what-”

“Then get a move on. Sooner we get moving, sooner we get those troublemakers away from the compound.” She turned away to call in the assistants in, leaving the bay for the moment.

“-to say.” Pausing for a moment, he turned to Bulkhead. “Man, even when offering help!”

“That’s just how she is.” Bulkhead shook his head. “Still, comes in handy at times. I’ve seen army commanders balk in front of her.”

Bulkhead said something else, but a sudden light behind Wheeljack caused him to freeze. It was slight, only just a small crack of daylight that had previously been shaded. Still, it was enough to put Wheeljack on guard.

Reaching over, he grabbed a wrench, making as if to use it in his work. Instead, he spun around and flung it in the direction of the unexpected source of light.

The sudden throw was counted as a thin net shot out. Wheeljack was only barely able to dodge to one side, allowing the net to drape harmlessly over his trap.

Unfortunately, this itself proved to be a trap, and Wheeljack found himself stepping into the path of a more powerful net. In a moment, he was entangled in magnetic strands that locked together, holding him firmly in place.

Bulkhead reacted quickly, rushing to Wheeljack’s side. Grabbing the magnetic strands, he struggled to pull them open.

“I’ve got no business with you, farmer. Just put him down, nice ‘n easy like.”

The duo froze as Ironhide stepped in, gun at the ready and pointing directly at Bulkhead. “Don’t want any trouble.”

“Want it or not, you’ve got it.” Bulkhead set Wheeljack down, but stepped between him and the intruder. “He’s staying with me.”

Ironhide kept his stare neutral, but his gun held up. “Suit yourself.” Opening fire, he hit Bulkhead square in the chest.

Bulkhead had apparently been ready for the shot, as it only knocked him back a short way. Having no gun of his own, he rushed straight at Ironhide, pulling out his wrecking ball and set to using it as a club. Ironhide reacted quickly, jumping back to keep the fight to his advantage by keeping it at a distance.

Left somewhat on his own, Wheeljack struggled in his prison to break free. The strands of the net were magnetic, but not on their own. Instead, he could feel a thick battery lodged by his left shoulder, which likely was powering the magnet. If he could disconnect the power source, the magnets would disengage and allow him to escape.

Unfortunately, this was a task easier said than done. The net pressed his arms tight to his chest and kept his legs pinned together. Wiggling as best as he could, he worked to get the battery to the nearest table, hoping he could slam it hard enough to disconnect something.

He only got a few good slams in before he felt himself grabbed by the ped. Hauled out upside down, he found himself staring up at the striped face of Lockdown. “Well, looks like we’ve got the time to ourselves.” The bounty hunter gave a broad grin as he nodded to where Bulkhead and Ironhide were still clashing. “Let’s not interrupt their little dance, alright?”

Before Wheeljack could cry out, a small electrical device was slammed into his chest, just above one of his hands. In a moment, he felt his vocal processor freeze up, keeping him from crying out for help. It was probably meant to keep him silent, but another idea sprang to his processor.

Not that he had too much time to think about it. Lockdown had tossed him into the air, before taking his own transport form. Wheeljack landed on top, at which point four long arms came out and locked him into place. In a moment, they were moving away.

Knowing his fate was in his own hands, Wheeljack worked the electrical silencer out with the nearest hand. In a moment, he felt his vocal processor unlock, and he knew he had his tool. Switching his hand to an extending clamp tool, he began working the stunner to the battery at the back of the neck. Desperately clinging to a silent prayer, he hopped the extender had enough length to reach.

At that point, the sound of angry reves came from behind. A heavy red hauler that Wheeljack presumed was Ironhide came close at their heels.

“Looks like the tango’s broken up,” Lockdown commented, picking up the pace. “Don’t worry, though. Old bot doesn’t have the speed to beat me.”

“Not with wheels, maybe,” Wheeljack commented, feeling the satisfying click as the shocker reached the battery.

In that moment, everything switched around. Simultaneously, the battery swapped the polarity of the net and exploded. Wheeljack felt the sting of the fire at the back of his neck, but heard Lockdown grunt, suggesting he also was in the damage field. 

At the same time, the net flew open, wrapping itself around Lockdown. The magnetic charge lasted only for a second, but the net soon became entangled in his wheels, making the lack of charge irrelevant. They were sent crashing, with Wheeljack being flung a distance to one side.

Automatically, he took his own transport mode, protecting the delicate parts around his head. He’d intended to go into a drive, but wasn’t so fortunate. Landing harder on one side than the other, he went into a roll and spun out until crashing into a ditch.

In that moment’s pause, he took in where he was. Lockdown had been attempting to get him out of the farming town, and the smoke rising from where the farmhouse was signaled that they’d gotten a good distance out.

Good. He regretted the trouble he’d already brought them. Maybe Bulkhead would forgive him someday.

He also took into account that Ironhide was headed right for him. Having been a distance back from Lockdown, he’d apparently been able to escape the carnage caused by the exploding battery. 

Moving as fast as he could, Wheeljack righted himself and took off in the opposite direction as fast as he could. He was smaller than the both of them, and the element of surprise was gone. Maybe that would be enough to keep ahead?

There was a shadow above his head, and he was only just able to move out of the way of the splash of oil. Remembering the previous time he’d driven through it, he spun around to one side and attempted to maneuver his way back to the road. A small hope hit that his opponent would end up falling into his own obstacle.

This hope was in vain. Behind him, Ironhide used a small lever to spring himself over not only the oil slick, but used the momentum to slam into Wheeljack as well.

Being significantly smaller, Wheeljack felt his bumper dent under the blow. Briefly losing control, he skidded off to one side before collapsing into a new ditch. Almost involuntarily, he shifted into his bot mode and grabbed the side, keeping himself from falling down to the flowing oil-river below. 

Before he had much time to consider his options, he felt his wrist being grabbed before he was hauled out. Coming face to face with Ironhide, he cracked a crooked smile under his mask. “Uh, hi.”

“You are becomin' a pain in my skidplate, ya know that?”

“You could just let me go.”

“Not a chance.”

“I thought not.” Wheeljack looked down.

Suddenly, a flash of green came in his periphery. “Look behind you!”

“You think I’m gonna fall for-?” Before Ironhide could finish the question, an electro-dart hit at a weak point at the back of his neck. In that jolt, he was forced to release Wheeljack.

Not that this was to Wheeljack’s benefit. As he hit the ground, he found himself at the end of a spear. “Alright. I’m done with games.” Lockdown’s eyes narrowed menacingly. “We. Finish. Now!” 

Wheeljack was certain he was done for, and he likely would have been, had he not noticed the shape coming closer in the sky. Recognizing it in and instance, he realized help was on its way.

He just needed to survive long enough for it to matter.

Jumping up, he seized the spear in both hands and shoved as hard as he could. This bought him the opportunity to shove Lockdown into the now-recovering Ironhide.

On its own, this would have been a suicide move, as Lockdown was more than free to recover quickly and open fire. In fact, that was exactly what he did. Wheeljack would have died there and then.

Had the payload not hit at that very moment.

The bundle slammed down between the two bounty hunters and Wheeljack, exploding into a gooey mass of foam gel and nets. The nets were useless, as they hadn’t hit direct targets, but the chaos of the mass of foam was enough to keep the bounty hunters distracted as Wheeljack darted off in transport mode.

As he drove, he soon was joined by a heavy tread-haul. “Did I get a bullseye?” Bulkhead called out as Wheeljack dropped his pace.

“Almost. Not quite, but just enough!” He let out a laugh in spite of the danger they were in.

“Shame, but I guess close is enough.” Bulkhead’s voice sobered up. “Where to next?”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

“Thanks.” Wheeljack was surprised just how much relief having one assured alley gave. “Afraid I don’t-”

“Wait, someone’s coming!” Bulkhead swung around, blocking Wheeljack’s path.

“Can’t be one of the hunters,” Wheeljack commented. Spinning back, he transformed to his bot form and leapt on top of Bulkhead to get a better look. “They’re coming from the wrong side.”

Sure enough, another Transport was racing up to them, but this one was white. Two broad blue bands were on his hood, flanked by two thin red ones, and a wonderfully welcome emblem was emblazoned right on the front.

“He’s an Autobot!” A thrill of relief and excitement filled Wheeljack. “We’ve found an Autobot!”

As if responding to Wheeljack’s jubilance, there was a hail at Bulkhead’s radio. “It’s the Autobot frequency, alright,” Bulkhead returned. “Bulkhead to Autobot, here.”

“Hey, Bulky, imagine meeting you out here!” a chipper voice called out. “What’re you doing out for a high energy joyride?”

“In a bit of trouble I’m afraid, Jazz,” Bulkhead replied, starting on the move. “You wouldn’t happen to know of a bolthole would you?”

“Ask and you shall receive.” The white Transport sped up, and was soon alongside them. “Follow me this way. It’s just a temp shelter, but should work for now.”

They drove a short way over the flatlands, leading straight up to a clifflands cut in previous quarry work. Wheeljack was questioning where a bolthole could be hidden in such a wide expanse when, suddenly, Jazz sped ahead, ducked over the side of one of the cliffs, and disappeared into nothing.

Bulkhead followed close behind, and in a moment, they were lost in the cover of darkness of the caves.

Chapter Text

It had taken Ironhide far longer than he would have liked to get clear of the gooey, foam net-mess. At this point, he was questioning if that had been intentional, or if this bounty was just cursed. Neither would have shocked him, truth be told.

Frankly, he wasn’t all that angry with the mark. Or with the mark’s farmer friend. Resistance from those types were typical and to be expected. No bounty hunter worth their Energon expected a mark to come easy.

No, right now, he was enraged with Lockdown, who apparently was determined to ruin every good shot he had.

Adding into that rage-inducing tendencies was that he’d slipped out first. “Stinking’ coolant-leech,” Ironhide murmured to himself. “If he thinks this is ending that easy, he’s got another thing coming.”

Moving away from the messy trap, he activated his electrical sensor detectors. Off to one side, he noted a more recent EM trail moving off on its own. Likely Lockdown, and as much as he wanted a private word with his rival, that could wait. The one heading off to the west was another story.

“Looks like you met up with your friend.” Switching to binocular vision, he spotted the white mech clinging on top of a green tread-haul. In a moment, however, they were joined by a white transport. “And a new one.”

Transforming into his hauler mode, Ironhide took off in the direction of the mark. “Looks like I’m crashing a party.”

“You sure this place will hold us all?” Bulkhead ducked as the moved into the bunker. “Seems kind of small.”

“Like I said, it’s just temp.” Jazz returned from the small storage room carrying a small box of tools and a repair kit. “Not supposed to be someplace to stay for a long time. We’ll just be here until the hunters pass us or lose interest, then head out to Old Iacon.”

“Better let me give you a once-over while we wait.” Jazz motioned for Wheeljack to take a seat at a near table, before setting the pack down and starting to go through it. “Your neck ‘n head looks like you got jumped by a flamethrower.”

“My neck?” Wheeljack reached around to probe the listed wound. He winced immediately as his servos brushed the burn. “Oh, yeah. That. That must’ve been when I blew up that battery.”

“Blew up a battery?” Jazz paused, glancing over at Bulkhead as if to ask if this was true. Bulkhead just shrugged.

“Had to.” Wheeljack took the seat and turned his head as he explained. “I was caught in an electromagnet net. Luckily enough, the power source was still attached. I was going to use blunt force to blow it up, but luckily the other hunter used an electrical vocal paralyzer, so it was just a matter of battery meeting paralyzer, and bang!”

“I can see.” Jazz’s tone was neutral, but his expression was one of sympathetic pain. “Did a number on your helmet.”

“Should have seen the other guy.”

“Speaking of,” Bulkhead added, “we’re not quite out of the fight from the hunters. Does this place have some sort of protection?”

“Forcefield generator,” Jazz replied, nodding to a huge piece of machinery taking up a good amount of the room. “We got a guy who joined a short while ago from Nova Cronum. Could take a beating for hours, if they can even find it in the first place.” 

“So,” he added, “why exactly are you being hunted by bounty hunters, anyway.”

“Well…” Wheeljack replied, his processor going over where to start.

Things had not gone Lockdown’s way, but that was a mere hiccup. There was still time and ways to work things to his favor.

The newcomer had led the mark and the farmbot to a hideaway protected by a forcefield generator. To anyone else, it would have been completely hidden, but the cloaking disrupter he’d taken from that Kalisian spy-catcher waved the disguise away in a moment. A quick scan reported the generator was well made; whoever set it up knew their stuff.  Had it lead to a tunnel, that would have been a massive hit to Lockdown’s goal. He’d have likely lost the trail. Fortunately for him, it looked to just be a bolt-hole, meant to wait out danger until the pursuers lost interest.

Unfortunately for them, that wasn’t going to happen.

Still, the last tangle had costed him. He hadn’t expected the mark to pull a risky stunt with that battery, and it had left Lockdown with some scouring on his chest armor. Not to mention the several tangles with Ironhide had left wounds, too. Old-timer that he was, Ironhide was a tough opponent, and by this time, a direct fight with such an armored fighter wasn’t an option. No, there was no chance for an ambush without the element of surprise and a direct fight wasn't going to work.

There was one trick, though. That farming bot was still engaged in the fight, and that newcomer had come in. The farmer was inexperienced and mostly unarmed, but tenacious. In a direct fight, there was more of a chance of taking him down than Ironhide, but it would be a rough fight that couldn’t be finished without massive injuries. As for the newcomer, Lockdown needed to see him in action before he could develop a plan to deal with him.

So why not let all his opponents deal with each other? Lockdown wasn’t sure between the two who’d win, but whoever it was would be left significantly injured. From there, an ambush would be sparkling’s play, and leave the mark completely open.

“And here comes the rust-bucket, right on time.” From his position in the cliffside, Lockdown planted a cloak disrupter and raced for his own hiding place. Iron-head might not be able to get in, but a stubborn bot like him likely have the artillery to collapse the field generator. From there, the fun would start.

Chapter Text

“That’s quite the tale.” Jazz shook his head. “Hard to believe all that could happen so quickly.”

“Tell me about it.” Bulkhead had taken a seat near the entrance. “Wouldn’t believe it either, if it hadn’t been for our friends back there.”

“Which leads to what we were doing,” Wheeljack added. “Bulkhead said you Autobots would be willing to help me out. I know it’s kind of crazy…”

“Hey, no problem,” Jazz replied without waiting a beat, finishing his work applying the protection cover to Wheeljack’s burn. “I mean, crazy, hopeless cases are kind of our thing.”

“Thank the Allspark.” Wheeljack slumped back, as if finally letting go of an exhausting load. “And thanks to you. It was really a lucky break we ran into you out there.”

“Actually, not as much luck as you might think.” He turned to Bulkhead. “Need me to check those dents?”

“Not right now.” Bulkhead paused in his vigil to check his own damage. “It’s only surface wear. Sore, but I’ll live for now.”

“Good to hear.” Jazz gave a nod before putting the tools away. “Actually, Bulkhead, I was coming out here looking for you.”

“Me? What would you need me for?”

“You hear about what happened with the Space Bridges?”

“No,” Bulkhead answered, tilting his head in confusion.

Wheeljack, on the other hand, perked up. “I do think I know what you’re talking about! The Metrotitan Space Bridge, out by Iridessa Ridge, suddenly lit up, just a few solar cycles ago. The Institute sent some of our best historical engineers down to check it out.”

“It wasn’t just them,” Jazz returned. “From our intel, every major Space Bridge on Cybertron suddenly activated a few solar cycles ago, including the ones in the Sunken Cities. Old Iacon’s lit up so bright you’d think we resurfaced!”

“Wait, the Space Bridges activated?” Bulkhead’s optics intensified in blue light as he looked between his companions. “When? How?”

“About a solar cycle before I left Metrotitan,” Wheeljack answered. “Don’t know how, though. Wasn’t my area of study.”

“Around the same for us, I’m guessing,” Jazz agreed. “As for why, that’s kind of what we were hoping you’d be able to find out.”

Bulkhead paused, slightly taken aback. “Me? You think I could do that?”

“Hey, it’s your specialty.” Jazz held out his hand. “So, what do you say?”

“I’d be honored!” Bulkhead eagerly shook Jazz’s hand.

“Great to hear!” Jazz commented. “And convenient for all present parties, I’d assume.”

A blast from just outside broke the cheery atmosphere. “Yeah, I’m good with the proposed arrangements,” Wheeljack commented, glancing at the doorway with some anxiety. “There’s a back door out, right?”

“When Old Iacon drifts close enough, yeah,” Jazz replied, motioning to an airlock carved in the back of the chamber. “Right now it’s just the current-metal.”

“How long will it take for Old Iacon to get here?”

Another blast rattled the shelter.

“About two solar cycles.” Jazz frowned and studied the generator. “Trouble is, this bombardment keeps up, we may not have that time.”

“I can handle that.” Taking up the tool pack from where Jazz had stashed it, Wheeljack hurried to study the generator. “I think I have what I need here to stabilize it, though not indefinitely.” Another blast set things rattling. “And of course it would help if that stopped.”

“Leave that to me,” Bulkhead stated in a stern tone of voice.

“Us,” Jazz corrected. “We’ll have better odds with two on one or two on two. Just need to make one call first.”

—

Old Iacon

Within the library of the Palace of the Primes, Optimus sat studying an ancient map of the Space Bridges. It was an elegant work of art, commissioned by Aviatra Prime in the celebration of her Jubilee Annual Cycle. It glowed as energy passed through the wiring, causing the model of Cybertron to shimmer like a gemstone in sunshine. He now hoped it might give a hint as to what had caused them all to come online.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Optimus was shaken out of his thoughts by the question, and turned to look at the one who asked. “Bumblebee, you’re here already? I hope I did not disturb anything important.”

“Nothing that isn’t routine.” Bumblebee set a few boxes of ancient data pads down. “I’ll get these sorted out soon enough, but it’s not urgent. I’m guessing this is.” He motioned to the lit map.

Optimus nodded. “I hope so, anyway. When this map was commissioned, the Space Bridge system was still active and in use.”

Bumblebee strode over, climbing up the ramp to the table to get a better look. He stood on tip-ped, optics studying the pattern on the map for a moment before turning back to Optimus. “Is there any particular pattern to the strobing?”

“What are you on to?” Optimus watched Bee close, knowing his student had a keen optic for small details.

“Just that there seems to be an alternating pattern to these flashes.” Bee reached out, pointing to the model representing Ky-Alexia. “It should start here…now.”

Sure enough, the bridge lit up, starting an active flow of energy. Bumblebee followed the flow, motioning out to the next bridges in a south-west pattern. “It goes in the other directions, symmetrically out.”

“Indeed.” Optimus gave a nod and motioned for Bee to go on.

“Well, it changes with every round, with the flow radiating out from one bridge that lights up alone, and all others have partners in the pattern.” Bumblebee turned back to the map. “But they all blink off as soon as the pattern is done. My thought is if the actual Space Bridges follow the same pattern, then we may be able to identify which one started all this, since none of the bridges have shut off yet.”

Prime narrowed his optics, following the directed pattern. “Excellent suggestion. We’ll need some optics in the sky, then.” 

Tapping his comm, Optimus identified the Autobot he thought could help the most. “Cosmos, are you in?”

“Right here, Prime!” The cheery voice echoed over the comm. “Need me for anything?”

“I need you to take an energy reading over Cybertron,” Optimus replied. “Track the directions the Space Bridges are pulling Energon from and see if you can’t follow it back to one city.”

“On it! I’ll call in once I find something.”

“Good luck.” Prime switched off his comm before turning to Bee. “That’s a good idea. Let’s hope it pans out.”

Before anything else could be done, Optimus’ comm chimed with an incoming call.

“That was fast,” Bee commented. “A little too fast. Something must be up.”

“It’s not Cosmos.” Prime couldn’t help but agree with his student’s concern. “This is Prime, come in.”

“Prime, Jazz here.”

“Good to hear back from you. Have you contacted Bulkhead?”

“Yeah, and he’s game to help us. There’s one problem, though.” Jazz was using the tone he often did when downplaying some major issue.

Optimus knew Jazz well enough to recognize the attempt at subterfuge. “A problem?”

“He’s helping a friend with bounty hunter issues.”

“Explain.”

“Shockwave wants to kill me!” A new, unfamiliar voice shouted over the comm.

“Yeah, that.” Jazz sounded a bit less than convinced. “Wheeljack here found some info that suggests ol’ Shockwave may be alive and in league with some high ranking bots. Whatever the full case is, it’s enough that we’ve got at least two bounty hunters tailing us, one of whom is firing on us right now.”

“Firing on you?” Optimus frowned under his face plate. “With the ceasefire in place? Where are you?”

“Beta quadrant hideaway,” Jazz replied. “Got the force shield up, but whoever’s cornered us is tough. Bulkhead and I are going to try to deal with him directly, but I’m less than confident about our abilities to keep him down fully. Not to mention if player two decides to drop in.”

Though he knew his lieutenant couldn’t see, Optimus nodded. “I’ll meet you soon. We’re not close enough to ground bridge directly in, but I should be able to help with the problem.”

“Knew I could count on you, OP.” The relief was palpable in Jazz’s voice. “See you soon. Over and out.”

“Wait.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Please splice our new friend onto the line.”

“Me?” The newcomer’s voice came on again.

“Yes, you,” Optimus replied. “I would like to have a word with you while I’m on my way, and we can start with your name.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Wheeljack.”

“It is good to meet you, Wheeljack, though the situation could be better. I will need to know more of the situation before I can intervene. Can you bring me up to speed?”

“Gladly!”

“Good. I will come back online in a few moments, and you can start your story then. Hear from you soon.” He then muted his line, preparing to head out.

“That sounds bad.” Bumblebee stood close at hand, a concerned expression on his face. “Need me to do anything?”

“Not directly, no,” Optimus replied, considering his options. “But you can send out a message.”

“To who?”

“Saber and Leo. Have them follow my signal and meet up with me surface-side.”

Bumblebee nodded, and his face was grave. “You think there’s going to be a fight?”

Optimus had to smother the dry laugh building in his chest. “There already is one. Let’s hope I can put it out.”

Chapter Text

Autobot Wasteland Hideout

It had not taken Ironhide long to locate the hideaway. A small crevice in the cliff wall, facing away from the direction they’d come. It might have been foolproof, had the cloaking mechanism not apparently been faulty. He’d found it easy enough upon arrival.

What turned out to be hard was breaking through the protective field. Whoever set up the area, they wanted it protected, and had done it well.

Not well enough to hold out against the mini basebreakers, but well nonetheless.

A consistent pattern of bomb, wait, and bomb again was wearing on the systems. A quick check on the energy readings could tell that well enough. A few more good hit, and he’d be in.

He wasn’t surprised when a white arm popped out in a gesture of surrender. Letting up, Ironhide stepped back, expecting the mark to be turning himself in.

It wasn’t the mark, though, but a newcomer with red and blue markings. While Ironhide was initially confused by what was going on, the emblem on the stranger’s chest gave the story away.

“Stand down, Autobot,” he called out in a low tone. “Don’t have any business with ya.”

“Gonna disagree with you on that.” The Autobot gave a friendly smile, though he kept his hands in the air. “Name’s Jazz, by the way. You?”

“Ironhide.” Catching on to the Autobot’s strategy, he kept his tone low but his gun up.

“Hey, no need for the weapon.” Jazz kept up that goofy smile. “We’re just talking here.”

“Nothin' to talk about.” Ironhide stood, unmoving. “I have a job to complete, and considerin' the circumstances, I’m guessin' you’re gonna try to get in my way.”

“Doesn’t need to be that way. You seem rather reasonable. Maybe we can work things out.”

“‘Reasonable’ don’t keep you alive.”

“Once again, gonna disagree. You just gotta know who to ask.” Jazz held out his hand in a gesture clearly meant to be friendly. 

Ironhide lifted the rifle again. “I ain’t gonna tell ya again. I’ve got a job to complete. Now, I’d like to get this done without anyone else gettin’ hurt, but I’m losin' my patience. Get out of the way.”

Jazz sighed and shook his head. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Moving fast, he ducked to one side.

While Ironhide was trying to figure out what he was doing, a familiar green wrecking ball shot out of the hideout entry. Moving as fast as he could, he got out of they way of the ball proper, though not fast enough to escape completely. He was clipped on the shoulder and pushed back, forced to drop his rife as he fell backwards.

Rolling over to one side, he caught a glimpse at the farm bot as he pushed past the Autobot. Big guy was glaring at Ironhide, clearly much more game for a tussle than the Autobot had been.

And still was, apparently. The white bot, Jazz, had moved back to position and was guarding the entrance. Not a bad strategy, especially if you were expecting a sneak attack. Considerin’ Lockdown’s yet to show his ugly mug, that might be to my benefit.

Still, he’d have to consider dealing with Lockdown and Jazz later. The farm bot was the opponent of the hour.

Not bothering with any pre-battle conversation, the farm bot hauled his wrecking ball back up and swung it hard in Ironhide’s direction. This time, Ironhide was ready. Withdrawing his war hammer, he swung back hard.

The head of the hammer struck the wrecking with a deafening clang and sent the projectile flying off to one side. The momentum caught the farm bot off guard, and he wasn’t able to compensate as the ball’s weight pulled him off to one side. In a moment, he was wrapped in a length of chain as the recoil sent his own weapon back.

Taking advantage of his bigger, heavier opponent’s moment of vulnerability, Ironhide rushed in with his liquid cannon. Utilizing the liquid nitrogen, he sprayed a liberal amount over the chain, leaving it brittle. Swinging out hard with the war hammer, he shattered the chain, leaving his opponent weaponless.

Jumping back, Ironhide held his hammer aloft. “Last chance, fella. I don’t want to fight you, but I won’t let anyone get in my way. You can’t fight back. Just go home.”

“I don’t want to fight you, either.” The green bot forced himself to his feet, drawing the severed chain back into his arm to allow the clawed hand to return. He was panting as his reserve cooling systems must have gone into overdrive, and the dents lining his armor spoke to a build not set for fighting. Still, a scowl came to his face and he narrowed his optics. “I don’t want to fight anyone, but I won’t let you hurt my friend.”

Springing forward, he attempted to catch Ironhide in a pincer grip. Ironhide was the faster of the two, though, and he leaped up. Hauling his war hammer into the air, he prepared to strike down against his opponent.

Suddenly, a shot from nearby knocked the hammer out of his hand. Ironhide only had a moment to realize what happened before catching a punch to the jaw. He flew back a few paces, landing hard on his back.

Peering up, he glared at Jazz. “Autobots are all for spectator interference then?”

“Love ‘n war and all that,” Jazz replied, keeping his own pistol trained on Ironhide.

Not that it mattered. Ironhide leaped up, just barely snatching up his hammer and tossing it in Jazz’s direction. The Autobot tried to fire, but the hammer was too heavy to be knocked back by such a small pistol. To the Autobot’s fortune, the forcefield seemed to be back up, and the hammer smashed into it a short distance in front of Jazz. However, with the field up, at least, he wouldn’t be able to interfere anymore.

Recovering his footing, Ironhide lifted the shield in front of his face, just in time for the green farm bot to rush in and attempt a headbutt. The strike took affect, and an electric jolt was sent through his opponent. The big guy was stunned, jumping back and losing control of his limbs for a moment.

It was all the moment Ironhide needed. Withdrawing his hand into an arm, a spike appeared in its place. Striking in at his opponent’s legs, he hit hard at the knee, leaving the spike in place. Once Ironhide’s arm was withdrawn, the spike exploded, leaving a gaping wound in the limb. This sent the big guy falling forward, allowing Ironhide to jump back and ready a new blaster.

When the moment of weakness passed, the farm bot seemed to recognize the trouble he was in. Grabbing a hold of Ironhide in a grip so tight it tore a hole in his shoulder armor, but avoiding the electrical shield, he spun hard at the waist, building enough momentum to send him flying. He skidded back a distance while the farm bot attempted to get back on his feet in spite of the injured joint.

Forcing himself to his feet, Ironhide lifted the small ion blaster and took aim. A single shot to the already wounded knee would cripple the farm bot. He’d need to get past the Autobot from there, but he had no doubt he could do so no issue. He pulled the trigger, ready to finish the fight.

It all would have been over…had a red and blue long-haul not taken the blow. The shot had been intended to finish the work of an already present injury, and thus didn’t even dent the newcomer. There was a brief second of silence as all held still.

Then the long-haul transformed, revealing the well-known form of Optimus Prime, a long staff in hand that soon turned to an Energon axe. “This ends now.”

Ironhide didn’t want to listen, but somehow, there was a quality Prime’s voice that would not be disobeyed. Slowly, hesitantly, he lowered the blaster.

Not like it would have done anything against this new fighter.

“Nothin’ personal, Prime,” Ironhide called out, “but I got a job to finish.”

“I am aware.” Prime’s voice was calm and collected, with a tone similar to the one Jazz had used. Still, there was more authority, more confidence. Jazz was asking to be listened to, Prime commanded it. “That does not make it right.”

“Can’t afford to think of right ‘n wrong.”

“And why not?”

In spite of the tension, Ironhide found himself laughing. “You look around yourself? No one watches out for anyone here. Everyone’s just trying to survive, and if someone don’t look out for himself, he’s eaten alive.”

“Is that how things work?”

“It’s how things have always worked for me.” Becoming more confident, Ironhide lifted the blaster again. “Look, I’ve got nothin' against you, but I was hired to bring a lunatic in.”

“How do you know he’s a lunatic? Do you have knowledge of what he knows?”

“What?”

“You made a judgement call over Wheeljack’s state of mind,” Prime pointed out. He leaned against his axe, as if it were a walking stick rather than a deadly weapon. “Yet, at least from his account of things, you’ve spoken to him only once. How can you be certain of his sanity from one short conversation?”

“Does it matter?”

“It matters to him.”

“And how would you know better?”

Prime shrugged. “I don’t. Not yet, but I intend to look further into anything before I make a decision that could ruin his life.”

“It’s not going to ruin his life.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do!” This line of question was really getting to Ironhide. If it went on much longer, he was pretty sure he’d be out of his mind. “They assured it was for his own good.”

“And how do you know they aren’t lying?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Ironhide’s own coolant system kicked in. “I just get my job done so I can fend for myself. That’s all that matters!”

“Then you view him as an acceptable cost?”

Ironhide froze at the question, a mixture of terror, rage, and anguish washing over him. “What did you say?”

“You view him as an acceptable cost.” Prime’s voice was gentle, yet reminded him of one hard and pragmatic. “What becomes of him doesn’t matter, as long as you get your way. Is that really who you want to be?”

“The loss was an acceptable cost. One town for the whole of Iacon City.”

Blaster still held high, Ironhide’s arm started to shake. He gritted his teeth and said nothing, holding his ground yet unwilling to push forward.

Optimus, meanwhile, seemed more than determined to push forward on his own idea. “You are right; neither of us has the whole story. However, the stakes in this situation are life and death. If you push forward on this, with as little info as you can, an innocent bot could die. Is that really what you want on you conscience?”

“We’re at war, Ironhide. You need to make the choices, figure out what you can live with and shut up about the rest. There’s no place for sentimentality out there.”

“It’s not to late to turn around.” Somehow, without Ironhide noticing, Prime had come closer. He reached out and placed a hand on the blaster, yet made no other move. Instead, he kept that firm gaze on Ironhide, as if studying his spark. “Let him go, and let us help you start again.”

A part of Ironhide wanted to pull the trigger. That same part wanted to scream and rage and punch and drive, anything to get away. At the same time, the gentleness in Prime’s voice seemed to hold that wilder side in check.

Instead, Ironhide was forced to see what he had said. What he was doing. He was alone, had been for ages, and the things he’d done had kept him alive.

Yet they had changed him. Made him more like the ones responsible for everything.

“Is that really who you want to be?” Prime’s question echoed, taking over Ironhide’s processor, until he knew he had no other choice.

“Get out of here fast. I’m not the only one hunting.” He withdrew his blaster, took his hauler form, and drove away.

Lockdown scowled as he watched Ironhide drive off. Prime had already been one unexpected unpleasantry, and the hopes that Ironhide might injure him in the confrontation had been the only chance the much-smaller Lockdown would have had in a fight.

It wasn’t over yet, though. There would be one other chance.

Chapter Text

“Uh, what just happened there?” Bulkhead asked, pushing himself fully onto his peds. Prime’s arrival had brought relief, but considering how rough the bounty hunter had been, the fact that it had ended without even a shot was surprising to say the least.

“A best-case scenario. Doesn’t happen often, but it’s preferable when it does.” Prime turned, and gave a simple bow. “You must be Bulkhead. Jazz has spoken highly of your skills, and your demonstration today proves your courage as well. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Um. Oh, uh, yeah. That’s me.” The fact that the Prime already knew who he was somewhat blew Bulkhead’s processor. “Thanks, sir.”

Prime himself, however, did not react as if this was anything unusual. “It looks like you have some damage at the knee joint,” he commented, apparently doing a medical exam. “You’ll likely need a full repair once we make it back to Old Iacon, but I can do some temporary repairs to hold until we make it, with your permission.”

“My permission?” Bulkhead had still been somewhat starstruck that he was speaking to the Prime that it took a moment to realize what was happening. “Oh, uh, yeah, please! That would be great.”

“Than please take a seat.” Prime nodded to the cliffside. “Better not to strain yourself any further than needed.”

As Bulkhead obeyed, Prime tapped a wall on the cliffside. “All’s clear, Jazz. You and Wheeljack should be safe to come out.”

“‘Bout time you showed up.” Jazz soon popped out of the crack. “Things were getting a bit rough around here. Almost took a warhammer to the chest.”

“I did warn you there might be traffic,” Prime responded with a laugh. “Besides, this opponent was holding back. Once I saw that, I knew this could be ended peacefully enough.”

“That was holding back?” Bulkhead asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

“You haven’t fought much, have you?” Prime asked as he started the work.

“Was in school during the war, and there’s no reason to fight during a ceasefire.” 

“Hopefully things stay that way,” Prime replied with a nod. “I’ve seen fighters of his make and build. This damage was done with a grenade spike, wasn’t it?”

The name seemed as good a description of what it had done as anything else Bulkhead could think of. “I guess so.”

Prime nodded and went on with his explanation. “Had he planted that spike near your spark case or head, it would have killed you. Instead, he aimed to cripple, not kill.”

“He was the one trying to take me alive,” Wheeljack added as he trotted up to join them outside. “It’s good he was the one you were facing. Thanks for that, by the way.” The thanks sounded somehow just as apologetic as grateful.

“Hey, no problem!” Bulkhead gave in a chipper tone, hoping to ease his friend’s guilt. “No way I was letting any two-bit bounty hunter run off with you.”

“Nor will we.” Prime took up a binding tarp from Jazz as he finished the repairs. “Wheeljack, I presume.”

“Yes, sir.” Wheeljack seemed more confident in speaking with Prime than Bulkhead had been. “Bulkhead and Jazz both said you could help me?”

“And I intend to,” Prime replied. “I will want to go over your story a bit more back at base. Please, excuse me for saying so, but it is rather incredible.”

“Crazy, you mean,” Wheeljack replied with a small laugh.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Others have.” Wheeljack just shrugged before passing over another tool. “It’s okay, I’ve accepted I’m a little crazy. I just do my best to keep it to myself.”

“I tend to find the mark of lunacy to be the inability to accept you may be wrong.” Prime set a hand on Wheeljack’s shoulders. “I may not know what exactly is going on, but I think it’s safe to say you aren’t mad.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“We about set to head out?” Jazz asked.

Prime straightened up and peered into the distance. “Almost. There’s just something I’ll need to do first.” He then looked to Bulkhead. “Can you transform?”

“Let me see.” Bulkhead stood up, pleased to find the temp repair left him stable at the very least. Working slowly so as to not overwork the injury, he soon took his tread-haul form. “Looks like I’m good for it!”

“Good, the trip should be easier in vehicle mode.” Prime took a few steps away and took his own long-haul form. “Autobots, transform-”

Before the command could be finished, a streak of green rushed in, snatching Wheeljack off his feet. It took a moment for the others to realize what had happen, and by the time Bulkhead could even think about transforming, Lockdown had made it a short distance off.

He’d only had time to make a short distance off, as he was suddenly pounced on by a massive winged leonoid. The huge, saber-toothed cat gave a shake forcing the bounty hunter to release Wheeljack who was sent flying…a short distance before being scooped up by a red and blue speeder ship.

With Wheeljack freed, the leonoid threw Lockdown aside, before beginning a transformation. In a moment, a tall bot with leonoid features stood in a crouch, the twin cannons on his shoulders pointed directly at Lockdown. On either of his wings, which also rested on his back in bot form, was the ringed star symbol of the Knights of Cybertron, overlaid with an Autobrand. “How about trying me on for size?” he asked, flashing slight fangs that were smaller doubles to the ones now on his helm.

Lockdown stood for a moment, clearly judging his odds against the new, far bigger opponent. He gave a death glare, apparently not like the chances of a one on one match. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, before racing off.

“Never is,” the cat-like bot replied, relaxing his pose but keeping his guns at the ready.

In a moment, the speeder landed as well, revealing a bot somehow even bigger than Optimus. “Sorry that had to be so last minute,” he apologized as he set Wheeljack down. 

“No problem.” Wheeljack let out a weak laugh. “Wasn’t the first unexpected flight I’ve had today.”

“Well done.” Optimus approached the newcomers with an approving nod. “I thought some reinforcement might be to our advantage here.”

“Happy to be of service, sir,” the jet bot replied as he and the leonoid-transformer saluted. “We came as soon as Bee reached out.”

“It was easy,” his companion added. “I could’ve picked up that guy’s stink a mile away.”

“My friends,” Optimus added, turning Bulkhead and Wheeljack, “these are Star Saber and Victory Leo.”

“Of the order of Knights of Cybertron.” Saber added.

“At your service.” Leo flashed as smile as he gave a bow.

“And fashionably late,” Jazz added, with something of a smirk. “Could’ve used your help when hammers were flying.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Saber replied, rubbing his helm. “We thought if we showed our hand too soon, the second hunter would be given a chance to plan.”

“Never mind that now,” Prime interrupted. “Jazz, Leo, could you guide Bulkhead and Wheeljack to Old Iacon? We will finish the terms of their stay upon Saber and my return.”

“Sure thing, OP.” Jazz gave a salute.

“Where will you be going?” Bulkhead hazarded. “I-I mean, if it’s ok to ask.”

Prime nodded and looked over the horizon. “There’s just a loose end I need to tie up.”

Cybertronian Wildlands

“Are you really gonna be in the Iacon City High Guard?” Moonracer’s optics widened in delight at the prospect.

“Not quite the High Guard just yet,” Ironhide responded with a laugh. “Just the artillery.”

“But that’s where they find the High Guard!” Moonracer protested. “Steelwall told me so!”

“And is Steelwall in the High Guard?”

“Don’t be silly!” Moonracer made a face at the very idea.

“Alright, Moon,” Dawnrise scolded, taking the sparkling from Ironhide’s arms. “Let you uncle get ready to go. He’s gonna have a long trip ahead of him.”

Moonracer turned to him with pleading eyes. “Just one story, please!!” 

Ironhide just laughed and patted her head. “Sorry, sweet-spark, she’s right. I gotta get going. But I’ll tell you what? When I get back, I’ll tell you everythin' that happened.”

“Everythin'? Every minute?”

“Every second!”

Moonracer paused, as if thinking things through. “Alright, I guess. But I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I still miss you, Moon.” Ironhide sat, replaying the memory over again. It had been the last time he’d seen his sister and her sparkling. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to see this particular one again, and it certainly wasn’t improving his mood. The fact that it had distracted from his self-repairs had also not helped. Still, it was good to see them again.

He was shaken from his melancholy by the sound of an engine approaching. Looking up, he spotted the form of the long-haul coming up followed closely by a speeder. On instinct, he withdrew his blaster and pointed it in the direction of the newcomers. “Speak up! What do you want?”

Immediately, the long-haul transformed, revealing the shape of Optimus Prime. “It’s alright. I am unarmed.” He was soon joined by a speeder who stood even taller than the Prime, though he was clearly younger.

“That’s a lie.” Ironhide narrowed his eyes.

“Do you see them?”

“I know more than many how easy it is to hide weapons.”

“You have my word, I do not intend on a fight.” Prime kept the same calm tone from before, though it wasn’t quite as firm as before. “I only want to talk.”

“Talk?” Ironhide lowered his blaster, confident there wouldn’t be a fight. Still, this behavior made no sense. “You got what you wanted. We have no business now.”

“You are wounded.” Prime motioned to the hole in Ironhide’s shoulder. He’d already gotten the hydraulics flow stopped up, but it would take some welding to get back into proper form.

“Your point?”

“We Autobots are skilled in healing,” Optimus stated. “If you would come with us, we can get you fully repaired.”

Ironhide gave him a quizzical look. “It was your buddy who caused it. Why would you care?”

“We care when anyone is hurt.”

“Good to know. I’m fine.”

“But your shoulder is-” the younger bot started.

“I mean I’m fine taking care of myself!” Ironhide snapped.

There was a pause of silence, before Prime spoke up again. “You did the right thing back there. You should be know that.”

Ironhide couldn’t help but give a sardonic laugh. “‘Course you think that. It got you what you wanted.”

“It spared an innocent bot of a wretched fate.”

“And left me down a job, down credits, and with no place to go.” He let out a scornful snort. “Sign I’m going soft, I guess.”

“It’s a sign you are not fully hardened, true, but to be calloused to the plight of your fellow bots is nothing to be proud of.” Prime reached over and placed a hand on Ironhide’s uninjured shoulder. “And you are correct, it costed you a lot. Let us make that up to you. Come back with us.” His tone here spoke of a plea, not a command.

Ironhide stiffened up and jerked away from Prime. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“No one offers nothin’ for nothin’, and I’m not buyin’ any story about how you appreciate what I did.” Ironhide frowned and glared at the Autobots. “What do you want from me?”

“We ask nothing of you.” Prime kept that aggravating gold stare directly at Ironhide. “We merely offer you what you need.”

“Right.”

“You do not believe me.”

Ironhide huffed and turned back to his shoulder. Anything to look away from Prime. “Everythin’ I’ve learned since that war started’s taught me everyone’s lookin’ out for himself, and anyone who says otherwise is either lookin' to take something or a danged fool.”

“You didn’t today.”

“And see where it got me.”

There was another pause. Ironhide was questioning if he couldn’t just leave when Prime went on. “Why do you fear receiving aid?”

“You’re the Prime, you tell me,” Ironhide replied with a sneer.

“I have been gifted wisdom, not omniscience,” Prime replied, and there was a light laugh to his voice. “I still need to told of events I was not present for.”

“Well, why are you determined to pester me?” 

“I have already explained that. It is our vocation to tend to the wounded and those in need. You are wounded, and yet you would rather suffer alone than receive aid.” Prime paused, and a glance up revealed a studying look in his optics. “I would like to know why that is the case, and help you in some other way, if it is possible.”

“You want to know why I don’t want help?” Ironhide’s voice dropped to a growl. “‘Cause I’ve heard it all before. How we all come together for this grand initiative. ‘We all play our part for a better tomorrow.’ As if that was ever the case. What really happens is the ones on the top use up the ones on the bottom, and any one who’s no longer of use gets tossed aside! It’s the ones who talk the biggest games who ultimately take the most. So forgive me if I don’t particularly feel like gettin’ used again, even by your judiciousness!”

“How dare you accuse him of such things!” the younger bot called back. 

Before he could go on, however, Optimus raised a hand. “I’m alright, Saber. There is no danger in words.”

“But, sir-!”

“Saber, I’m fine. ” Prime’s voice became firm again. “Please, let me handle this.”

There was a moment before Saber bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”

“You served for Iacon City during the war?” Prime asked, turning back to Ironhide.

That did surprise Ironhide. “How did you know?” 

“‘We all play our part for a better tomorrow.’ It was the recruitment motto of Iacon City,” Prime explained. “It also was one of the few city states where the honorific ‘your judiciousness’ was still commonly in use, since Sentinel Prime spent much of his time there. Thus, it was one of the few places where a bot outside the hierarchy would still know to address the Prime using it.”

“There a point to this?”

“You were from one of the abandoned villages.”

Ironhide said nothing. How could he? What with his past being drudged up by someone he’d only just met who apparently could read him like a book? There was nothing to be said.

Prime seemed take this as an invitation. “I’m sorry about what happened there. Those attacks happened so fast. The fact that the guard had left was unknown to all, save the High Guard and some spies. There was no way anyone could have responded in time for most.”

“What do you want with me.”

“To help you.”

“Then leave me alone. I don’t want your pity.” 

Silence reigned for a few moments, before Optimus stood again. “Very well. I wish you a pleasant evening, then. And,” he added, before taking his long-haul mode, “if you ever change your mind, the offer still stands.” He then drove off, Saber following suit and flying off.

Once more alone, Ironhide let the silence of the evening wash over him. “Soft headed ol’ fool’s what I am,” he murmured to himself.

Feeling a movement on his hand, he glanced down to see a silverstrike crawling over it. “What do you think? Can that bot be for real?”

Of course, the silverstrike didn’t answer. Instead, it transformed into a small, copter-like form and flew off on the hunt.

Death’s Head

To say Lockdown was in a foul mood would have been an understatement beyond belief. He’d lost the mark, and to an underhanded trick. Of course he’d never be able to deal with a Knight of Cybertron! The fact that he’d been so close, so many times, but was always hindered by Ironhide or Bulkhead getting in the way only poured solvent on the wound.

Thus, the message on his computer as he returned only made matters worse.

Current bounty: postponed. Status of target: inaccessible.

”No scrap, he is,” he scowled at the screen. He reached over, prepared to shut down the screen, when another message appeared. 

Alternative bounty: offered. Target: repeated and impersonal. Price: negotiable

In that moment, Lockdown’s temper calmed. It was the first time he’d gotten an offer where the price was negotiable. Curiosity taking over, he sat down to reply.

What target, and how much are we talking here? 

I have recently discovered a new species, and have some interest in studying the individuals myself. At this time, I have captured one, but cannot concern myself with personal search due to another pressing project arising at the same time. I would be willing to consider 40,000 per individual.

“40,000! Whatever these are, they must be valuable.” Leaning in, he started to type. 

You’ve got my interest. What am I looking for.

You will need to speak with me, the reply came back. I will require full discretion on your part. I’m afraid I am a rather notorious individual.

Pausing in his writing, Lockdown remembered the crank Wheeljack’s ramblings and decided to take a risk. 

You’re Shockwave, aren’t you?

The reply message was slower than the others, but eventually came. Does my identity negate your interest?

Lockdown barked a laugh. Hey, at the prices you pay, I’d bring in bounties for Unicron himself.

I’m pleased you are not as sensitive as some others on this planet. I’m sure you can see why full secrecy will be necessary.

Mum’s the word, Lockdown replied, his previous mood now completely forgotten. So, where shall we meet?

Chapter Text

Palace of the Primes, Old Iacon

“Cosmos to Optimus, come in!”

Optimus Prime had been sitting in front of Teletraan-One, thinking over the discoveries of the last few days, when the call came in. Shaking out the fog of exhaustion, he clicked on the comm. “I’m here, Cosmos. Where are you?”

“Above the Praxian Wastes,” came back the reply. “I think I may have found the source bridge for these pulses.”

“The Praxian Wastes?” That was trouble. “Have you seen any Decepticon watches around?”

“Haven’t spotted any yet,” Cosmos answered. “Going in on the bridge area for a closer look now.”

“Negative,” Optimus replied. “It’s too dangerous. Megatron has been quiet as of late, but I’d rather not risk you accidentally tripping up security systems.”

“Are you sure? It looks like the bridge is giving off a weird energy signature.”

Ok, that was concerning. “How so?”

“It’s really powerful, like something’s funneling the energy directly in. Looks really unstable, too.”

That was something that couldn’t just be ignored.  “Cosmos, where are you in atmospheric sitting?”

“Upper levels, way beyond Decepticon reading levels, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Optimus chuckled. “Point taken. Just stay up there for now. I’ll need to get Bulkhead and loop him into this conversation. I’ll call you back soon.”

“Sure thing!” There was a click as Cosmos disconnected.

Taking a moment, Optimus turned to his Space Bridge map and studied the structure in Praxus. The map showed the Bridge, standing proud among silver skyscrapers, crystalline gardens, and pillars of shining light. Of course, that was how Praxus had been when it was standing. Now, it was a ruin, a mass of solidified slag and shattered glass, and he was amazed the Space Bridge even could function.

“Of course, it was built by Solus Prime,” he murmured to himself. “It’d take the Allspark itself to destroy one of her works.”

Tapping on his comm, he called in. “Bulkhead, where are you?”

“Prime!? Uh, you need me?” The newbie Autobot’s voice rang out, delight and surprise clear in the tone. Prime was used to this reaction from new recruits; most faction heads only dealt with a small pool of cohorts. The fact that Optimus was not nearly so exclusive was something they always had to get used to.

“As it is, yes,” Optimus replied, keeping a level, casual tone of voice. It helped acclimation. “I sent out a scout a few solar cycles back to find the source of the Space Bridge energy. It looks like he’s found it, but there are other anomalies. Can you pause on the work with our Bridge to take a look?”

“Of course! Wheeljack and I have gotten a good amount of data for comparison. He can handle monitoring the equipment while I come over. ” There was the sound of crashing in the background, followed by a moment of silence. “Uh, it’s ok, I’m fine. And we didn’t need that.”

“I can fix it!” Wheeljack’s chipper voice carried through, though slightly muffled since it wasn’t his comm.

“You do that,” Optimus replied, though he was uncertain if the engineer could hear him. “I’m in the library. See you soon, Bulkhead.”

“Be there soon, Boss-bot!”

“New information?” Bumblebee’s insertion had not been expected, but was also not surprising.

“Looks like you were right,” Optimus replied, motioning for Bumblebee to join him. “We’ve found the epicenter for the energy pulses. However, it looks like that epicenter is more volatile than we were expecting.”

“Volatile?” Bumblebee trotted up the ramp at the table to be closer to Optimus’ level and sat down. “As in, ready to explode?”

“Hopefully not.” Prime didn’t want to think about the damage an exploding Space Bridge could do, even if it was in a wasteland. “That’s what I’m hoping Bulkhead will be able to tell.”

“Will we need to evacuate the villages nearby?” 

“At the moment, no,” Prime replied, “but that may be something to consider.” Options flashed through his processor as potential best and worst case scenarios played out.

—

Bulkhead arrived a short time later, and was soon on the conference call with Cosmos. “So,”  he called over, “what are we looking at?”

“Bridge is up and running like the others,” Cosmos returned, “but the energy outlook is like it’s sucking up an Energon farm all on its own.”

“Any clue where it’s coming from?”

“None. Praxus is completely empty.”

“Must be coming from the other side, then,” Bulkhead commented, really more to himself than anyone else. “Can you give us a visual?”

“Coming right up!” In a moment, Teletraan-1 lit up, showing an image of the Praxus Space Bridge. It was in ruins, like the rest of the city surrounding it, yet glowing with a light that put the other Space Bridges to shame.

“Is that possible?” Bumblebee asked, optics wide in curiosity. “Getting Energon from the other side, I mean.”

“A fail-safe set up from when the Thirteen were establishing colony worlds,” Bulkhead explained. “If one world ran out of Energon, the supplies on Cybertron could support it. Solus really knew her stuff,” he added in a tone of admiration.

“With the amount of charging we’re seeing,” Optimus commented, “that would suggest a massive source of Energon on the other side.”

“Exactly,” Bulkhead agreed. “My bet's on either a forgotten farm or a wild mine. Either way, it’s got to be something big with how intense it’s been burning.”

“Would it be safe to send a drone through?”

“I’d need more feedback on what the bridge is doing,” Bulkhead replied. “Wheeljack and I have determined the one out in the courtyard is safe enough, and we were actually working on the test drone to get it going. If I can get out to the one in Praxus to take the numbers, I should be able to figure out the safety levels pretty quickly.”

Prime closed his optics, uncertainty arising in his mind. “That would be risky, especially since you’re the only one here who has an idea of how these are supposed to function.”

“But we’ll need the information,” Bulkhead insisted. “Without a drone examination, we’ll have no idea what’s coming, and if the bridge is unstable, attempting a drone examination could set off a destructive chain reaction.”

“Agreed. We’ll just need to think of another way around.”

“I could try to-wait, hold on.” Cosmos’ voice grew tense as a speck started growing closer on the screen. “Prime, someone’s approaching, fast.”

“Has he hailed?”

“No, no connection. He’s also ignoring my hails.” The flyer got closer, revealing himself as a red and silver aerialist Seeker. The Seeker also began opening fire. “Prime, he’s shooting at me!”

“Get out of there right now!” Prime ordered.

“I’m trying, but he’s faster-” Suddenly, the screen cut out, a sure sign Cosmos had been hit. 

Without waiting, Prime stirred into action. “Bee, go call Saber. I will need his help.”

“On it.” The little minibot rushed off.

“Bulkhead, while we are out, see if you can’t find anyone you trust to bring you aid while you stay here. I’ll see to forming a protection team.”

“Yes, sir!” Bulkhead threw a salute.

“Once you’ve found someone, send them to meet me out in the courtyard. We will leave before an hour passes.” Prime turned and hurried out to prepare himself. Whatever just happened, he would handle it.

Chapter Text

Overlord’s Palace, Kaon

It was a rare moment of peace for Megatron. He knew better than to take it for granted.

It had been some time since the ceasefire began, yet paradoxically the warrior chief had more work than ever. Reports from spies all over Cybertron brought word of the actions of his enemies. Defenses needed to be set up in all the borders lest anyone take advantage of a weakness. The citizens needed to be assured that while conquest had yet to be achieved, this was all leading to their eventual victory when the war inevitably started again.

Megatron preferred the work of the battlefield, but at least times were never dull. At the moment, he was working with a set number of reports concerning Kaon’s relations with several surrounding city-states, with one particular nail in his side causing the most amount of concern.

He would definitely need to get a Writ of the Primes to work this out.

A tapping at a window broke his thoughts. Glancing up, he spotted the cyberfalcon scratching at the sunlight in the roof, signally new information.

“Laserbeak, excellent timing. I’m in need of a distraction, and a messenger.” Megatron tapped a button on his arm, opening the window to allow the bird in. “Come, tell me what your master has discovered.”

The cyberfalcon flew down, resting on Megatron’s arm as he landed. Without pausing, Laserbeak’s eyes flashed before a hologram of his master, Soundwave, appeared before Megatron.

“Greetings, Megatron,” Soundwave began, giving a bow that demonstrated devotion in spite of the monotone voice. “Report of unexpected events: urgent.”

Knowing well his trusted lieutenant would not give an emergency call without need, Megatron listened close. “Make your report.”

“Intruder discovered over Praxian ruins. Alignment determined: Autobot.”

“Ah, that’s no emergency.” Megatron chuckled at the idea of any  Autobot save one being a threat in the slightest. “They aren’t warriors, and the Praxian Wastelands are more a statement than anything else.” In fact, if we make contact, he could be of use to me.

“Megatron’s orders were previously given. Orders were ignored.”

“Oh, don’t tell me…” Megatron muttered, his hopes of a direct, easy delivery of his message going down in flames. “He was shot down, wasn’t he?”

“Affirmative.”

Megatron let out a sigh. “This will complicate getting Prime to listen,” he murmured to himself.

“And what is the Autobot’s current state?” he asked, turning back to Soundwave.

“Current status: moderate injuries sustained; being held in custody.”

“So he’s alive?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good.” Megatron gave an approving nod. “If he were dead, that would guarantee Prime’s resistance. If he’s alive I may be able to work something out.”

“Current orders for prisoner?”

Megatron thought for a moment before deciding on his course of action. “Bring him in and have him delivered to the med bay. I want to have a word with his master; Prime tends to be more amenable when his rabble are unharmed.”

“Message of invitation to be delivered to Optimus Prime?”

“Yes, send Buzzsaw on that. Let him know I request a personal visit, and his misplaced Autobot will be returned unharmed.” An Autobot would have been preferable, but none of Soundwave’s cassettes ever failed.

“As you command, Megatron.”

“One last thing, Soundwave,” Megatron added. “Who was the soldier who ignored your command?”

“Vosite Commander Starscream.”

Megatron’s frowned deepened. He should have known. “Send Starscream back with the Autobot. This is far from the first time he has caused trouble with his impulsiveness. I mean to have a personal word with him.”

“It will be done.”

In spite of the trouble landing on his lap, Megatron smiled. “I have confidence it will. You are dismissed.” The hologram flickered and disappeared, signalling that Soundwave was off to carry out his orders.

Turning to a small dish of solid Energon, Megaron selected a few pieces, which he offered to Laserbeak. “Well done, little messenger,” he praised, gently petting the cyberfalcon’s neck as he ate. “Return to your master now. He may have need you soon.”

Laserbeak chirped as he finished off the Energon, before taking off to obey. He circled once above the room before rushing out the same window he entered by.

As the bird flew out, Megatron became aware of a familiar spark signature out the door. “Nightbird, report.”

“As you command, my liege.” A tiny cyber ninja appeared to materialize in the room. He knew of cyber-ninjas well enough to know that wasn’t really the case, but it allowed his servants to make an impression. “I have completed the scouting as you commanded,” she reported giving a deep bow with her head ducked low.

“And?”

“It does appear that the energy paths are following a consistent pattern,” she reported, straightening up. “All the routes lead back to the space bridge in the Praxian Wastes.”

“Interesting.” Megatron mused aloud. “This is the second time today the Praxian Wastes have been mentioned to me.”

“Do you believe this may be a danger in the territory?”

“Probably not,” Megatron replied, though his processor was still working. “All the same, it would be wise to make sure everything is in order, especially since the examination of the Kaon space bridge is going nowhere.”

Taking a seat on his throne, Megatron closed his optics as he pondered his options. “Is the entire science division working with the Kaon space bridge at the moment.”

“All with skills in that specialty, my liege.”

“I don’t want to pull any away who might be needed to support us here.” Tapping his servos on the arm rest, he ran through a mental list of names. “That young scientist, Lyzak, should be able to handle this mission on her own.”

“If you would excuse the interruption, sir,” Nightbird hazarded, “while easily having the skills and disposability required, that may be a risky move.”

Megatron nodded, knowing well Nightbird’s loyalty meant this was a genuine concern and not an attempt as usurpation. “Go on.”

“I have reason to believe Lyzack many not be made of as firm metal as many of your followers, including her brothers. She is brilliant in sciences and willing and eager to follow orders, but she is weak of attention. Should she be put into a position where she must make important decisions that require contemplation, I doubt her ability to think through her methods.”

“I have noticed. Her brothers’ skill is enough to overlook this lack of attention in their sister, but for a mission like this, foolishness is a dangerous proposition for all parties involved,” Megatron agreed. “Still, she is the best option to gain the information in the fastest manner without risking Kaon’s bridge.” He had an idea of what to do next, but still felt this a good opportunity to allow his servant to build her confidence. “What would you suggest to solve this conundrum?”

“Me, my liege?”

“You have yet to fail me in your orders. Let us see you stretch your skills.”

Nightbird paused before answering. “Send out Lyzak, but also send out a warrior who is far more trusted and firmly loyal. She is flighty, but would be less of a risk of losing information if under proper supervision. And, if you don’t mind me adding, make sure it is an officer at a clearance level to take said information from her immediately.”

Megatron smiled. It had been near exactly his plans. “Excellent work. The only thing I’d add is another warrior under this officer. Even with higher standing, there is safety in numbers.”

“A wise adjustment.”

After pondering for a moment, he decided on a group. “Go and find General Blitzwing. He shall act as the officer. The two of you together should be more than enough to guarantee Lyzak’s attention doesn’t falter. And before you go, you may see Starscream coming in. If you do, order him to come to me.”

“As you command, Megatron.” Nightbird gave a bow and vanished, off to complete the task.

If only all his soldiers could be so self-motivated.

Chapter Text

Palace of the Primes

“Blaster to Prime, calling in as a message bot.”

“Not right now, Blaster,” Prime replied as he hurried out to the courtyard. “Something has gone down, and Cosmos is in trouble. I’m sure I’ll be able to take whatever it is when we get back.”

“Actually, sir,” Blaster returned, “I’m pretty sure this message has to do with Cosmos. You may want to take it.”

“Has to do?”

“Okay, that may be an understatement. This feels like a hostage trade.”

Hostage. Internally, Prime relaxed. A hostage was alive. A hostage could be rescued. “Very well. Who is the sender?”

“Megatron, by way of Soundwave, by way of Buzzsaw.”

“So, we’re dealing with the Decepticons then.” Somehow making things easier and far more difficult at the same time. “Send the message.”

There was a click, and Blaster’s message diverted through several layers until an uncomfortably familiar signal was on the line. “Greetings, Soundwave. I await Megatron’s message.”

“Your presence: requested. Location: Kaon’s Palace. Reason: Autobot captured within Decepticon territory. Release is offered, provided attendance is met.”

“You may tell Megatron his offer is accepted. I will attend, as is tradition. We shall meet at the time designated.”

“Time designated: immediately.”

“I supposed as much.” Optimus closed his optics and shook his head. “Very well, we shall arrive as soon as is possible.”

“Acceptance is noted, and will be reported to Megatron.” Without so much as a word of goodbye, the line was cut.

With the call so abruptly ended, Optimus headed out into the courtyard. He was pleased to see the two groups he requested already out and formed. Saber sat near the courtyard wall, so as to no tower too much over Bumblebee and Hot Rod as they spoke. Saber and Bee would accompany Optimus to secure Cosmos’s release, along with Prowl, who stood nearby studying something on a datapad. Hot Rod, along with the currently arriving Arcee, Sideswipe, and Hound, would act as the selected scientist’s guard in Praxus. 

And speaking of that scientist…

“Wheeljack?” Optimus couldn’t help but voice a little surprise as he approached the small transport who stood at the space bridge.

Hearing his name called, Wheeljack straightened into a salute. “Science recruit reporting in!”

“I’m surprised Bulkhead would request this of you, so soon after everything that happened to you.”

“Well, he sort of didn’t.” Wheeljack rocked a bit on his peds as he explained. “He asked Eureka, but she said no. Then I volunteered.”

Prime knelt down as he spoke to get closer to Wheeljack’s level. “I do not ask you to engage in such a dangerous mission so soon after escaping threats of your own.”

“Oh, that?” Wheeljack waved a hand. “It’s nothing. Besides, I know more about these space bridges than just about any other choice, except Bulkhead. I’m happy to be of service. Especially,” he added, his voice losing a level of its confidence, “since there will be a bodyguard of sorts.”

“If you feel that strongly about it, then I accept.” Prime shook his hand. “I wish you luck.”

Turning to the group as a whole, Prime called out. “Autobots, assemble.” In a moment, all optics were on him, awaiting full orders.

“Hot Rod, is your team ready?”

“Onlined and ready, sir.” Hot Rod nodded to the collection of young fighters. “Just awaiting our destination.”

“You will be guarding Wheeljack on the way to the Praxus Space Bridge,” Prime replied, motioning over to the waving scientist. “He will be setting up a communication base up to allow Bulkhead to remotely study the workings of the primary space bridge from here in Old Iacon. Make sure he comes to no harm while he completes his work. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Four of us, guarding one lab bot?” Sideswipe gave a cocky grin. “Come on, give us a challenge here! Hey!” He turned and glared at Arcee, who’d slapped the back of his helmet.

“What he means, sir,” she corrected, “is that we won’t let you down.”

“I know.” Prime made sure he only laughed internally as he watched the fighters with a degree of fatherly pride. “You’ll do wonderfully.”

He then turned to the remaining Autobots. “Saber, Prowl, Bumblebee, you three will accompany me to Kaon. I have recently received word that is where Cosmos is being held, and Megatron is willing to negotiate his release. That, undoubtedly, means he wants something. I will likely need your help in the negotiations.”

The trio addressed threw a salute, though Prime couldn’t help but notice Prowl’s was somewhat weaker than was typical for him. Still, it was not the time or place to address this hesitation. It would only serve to humiliate the officer if he said anything out loud.

Besides, he was certain he’d hear about it soon. Better arrange things so it could be addressed privately.

“Hot Rod, take your team and head out to Praxus now. Saber, please carry Bee with you to Kaon’s gates. That’ll make the trip easier on him. Prowl and I will take our own vehicle modes so you don’t have to burn too much Energon, and meet you there. You all have your orders. Autobots, Transform and Roll Out!”

Chapter Text

Overlord’s Castle, Kaon

Starscream never liked the Overlord’s castle. Compared to the flying crystal spires of Vos, Kaon’s capitol always felt cold. Sterile. Even just a few prism sculptures would have gone far to bring up the luxury of the cold, metal walls, though he supposed that was far from a priority for the notoriously single-minded Megatron.

He had already been relieved of the Autobot prisoner, who’d been whisked away by several guards the moment they landed. He was now off to his own quarters, where he’d enjoy some well deserved maintenance.

Or, at least, that was where he would have gone, had that ninja not gotten in the way. “Starscream, Megatron has ordered you to appear before him.”

“Good for him.” Starscream stood a good deal taller than Nightbird, thus he supposed there’d be no trouble in pushing past. “I’ll see him when I have a moment.”

In spite of her relatively small stature, she was remarkably hard to move by, as his every attempt was blocked. “His orders are followed immediately.” Her yellow optics narrowed, the only feature of her face visible.

“Maybe by the Kaonians,” Starscream replied, “but might I remind you, I am a Vosite. And a Vosite prince on top of it, as well as a sky commander. I will see him when I deem it convenient. Now move aside, transport.”

He finally succeeded in pushing past, only to let out a yelp as she grabbed his wing, leaving long scratch marks in the metal. “Prince you may be, but you are also a hostage. Might I remind you your life hangs at Megatron’s whims, as well as those of your brothers. If you do not report in now, it may be your life you toy with, or it may be theirs.”

Starscream paused. Had she only mentioned him, it wouldn’t have been an issue. He trusted his flight and skill to be a match for Megatron, but his trine? “Thundercracker and Skywarp have not had a part in this.”

“Yet they have had a part in you.” Nightbird gave a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me, just accept the consequences for disobedience.”

There was a moment’s stare-down, before Starscream’s wings drooped. “Fine. I’ll come.” 

“I had supposed you’d see reason.” Nightbird motioned to one side.

As they came to the throne room, Nightbird opened the door and motioned for Starscream to go in. He did so, casting a venomous glare as he did, which was returned as she slammed the door on his back.

Inside, Megatron stood staring out one of the massive windows. He was facing away from Starscream, yet at the same time, it was like there were piecing eyes staring at the Seeker. Starscream couldn’t help but wonder if Ravage was in the room right now. Stupid umbracat always gave him the creeps.

“If I recall,” Megatron stated, never turning away from the window, “you were given permission to perform scouting duties this morning.”

At the word ‘permission,’ Starscream scowled, though he opted not to make a verbal comment. “Which I completed.”

“To my knowledge, scouting does not include shooting down a member of a non-combatant aid organization with no warning.”

So that’s what this was about. “He was in Kaon Empire airspace. Flight in the areas over Praxis are redistricted and grounds for an automatic attack.”

“An automatic attack on enemy combatants,” Megatron corrected, turning to glare at Starscream. His voice had remained calm and level, but the piercing red light of his optics gave another story. “Might I remind you, we are in a peace time, and even during the war, the Autobots filled an aggravatingly unique position. At the very least, a hail and warning is needed in all circumstances with them.”

“And why should they get special treatment?” Starscream responded with a huff. “If you asked me-” 

“Last time I check, I didn’t ask you,” Megatron replied, stalking over to where Starscream stood. The sheer size of the warlord was enough to quiet the Seeker in a moment, though his volume never changed. “You would do well to remember your position, Starscream. You are not in Vos anymore.”

In spite of the rage bubbling at the show of power, Starscream diverted his gaze. “Of course, sir. I forget myself.”

“To say the least.” Megatron stepped back, turning back to his pondering. “On to the topic of the Autobots. While I agree such exceptions are aggravating, the fact is that they not only have the Prime on their side, but are led by him. While not officially a position of power, the Primacy is one that traditionally has been held in respect. For his part, Optimus Prime has done well to keep his followers neutral and impartial, and as a result any harm befalling them would be considered an act of pointed aggression against the Primacy. I don’t need to tell you how other heads of state would react to such an attack.”

“No one really believes in the authority of the Primacy,” Starscream mumbled with a scowl. “Stupid dark-age superstition. Should have been jettisoned ages ago.”

“For once, we are in agreement,” Megatron replied with a nod. “However, as Overlord of Kaon, I must make decisions based on what is, not what should be, and what is happens to be that acting openly aggressive towards the Prime and his band of pacifists and turncoats would only paint an overly large target on Kaon. Or, might I add,” his voice dropping to a growl, “on Vos.”

“No one cares whether one single Autobot lives or dies,” Starscream returned.

“Prime does.”

“Well, of course he does, it’s his troops.”

“You misunderstand me, and by connection, him.” Megatron seemed to smile as he turned back to Starscream, as if he were discussing some strange inside joke. “Prime cares to a somewhat obsessive degree. Every life on Cybertron seems to pain him, whether because they die or because they kill. He takes each and every death, or even just suffering, personally. That goes triple when the individual in question is an Autobot. I assure you, had that scout died today, having been fired on with no warning, intense, public recompense would have been required. I’m still going to need to negotiate around this little mishap as it is, even with him still alive.”

“As if an afternoon talk with that coolant-sop would even constitute a trouble,” Starscream replied with sneer.

“You continue to underestimate him. Do so at your own peril. Prime is the only bot on this world who could provide a challenge to me, if only he weren’t limited by his obsession with life.” The unspoken response to Starscream’s own ambition was quite obvious.

“Which leads to my response for your actions today.” Megatron turned back to Starscream, his faceplate the picture of stern disapproval. “Had any of my Decepticons showed such indiscretion and insubordination, the punishment would be permanent. As it is, it would be…imprudent to show such final consequences without the approval of High Queen Nightwind.” The glare he cast on Starscream stated he wished there weren’t such limitations.

Starscream twitched anxiously in spite of himself, knowing well the precarious position he was in. “Yes, well-”

“However, I still cannot allow such indiscretion go unpunished. It would give a bad precedent to the Decepticons and others who serve me. An example must be made if order is to be maintained.” Far from sounding angry, Megarton’s tone actually became warmer, or at least held the facsimile of warmth. “Deczarus, you know what to do.”

Anxiety built as Starscream turned to see the Decepticon addressed. A massive beastformer, Deczarus was one of Megatron’s supreme commanders and a common favorite for the bot to take over the Decepticons in Megatron’s absence. He was also blocking the doorway.

“Of course, my liege.” Reaching out, Deczarus seized Starscream by the wing and dragged him out. “He won’t forget this lesson for a long time.”

Chapter Text

No Bots’ Land

“Prowl, we are alone now. Why don’t you say your thoughts?”

“My thoughts?” Internally, Prowl scolded himself. He’d been certain he’d disguised his feelings well enough. Orders were orders, after all, and it wasn’t his place to question those orders. It still wasn’t his place to question those orders, no matter how illogical they seemed.

“Come now. You should know better than to play dumb with me. I saw your reaction back there.”

Whether he’d been that clumsy back in Old Iacon, or if Optimus was secretly telepathic, Prowl couldn’t say. Either way, he wasn’t getting out of this.

“Why wasn’t I sent to Praxus?”

“Is that all?”

“It’s enough.” Prowl paused, trying to think out his words. “I know Praxus better than anyone else present. It would have made the trip faster and more efficient, instead of sending in those who don’t know the territory.”

“You do know Praxus better than anyone here. Better than any other Autobot,” Optimus agreed. “That’s exactly why I don’t want you anywhere near those ruins.”

“Please excuse me for saying, sir, but that makes no sense. Why wouldn’t it work best for someone who knows the area well to handle this mission?”

“You were at Crystal City.”

The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. So that was it. “I don’t have a death delusion. They checked already.”

“Exactly. I’d rather not risk that fact changing.”

“It’s been annual cycles.” Prowl rankled a little at the thought he’d be too weak to face his own history. “I can handle some ruined buildings.”

“I’m not questioning your strength or intelligence,” Prime replied. “Nor your honesty. However, there are ghosts in those ruins. Ghosts that have already taken too many good bots. I won’t risk you when there are others who can handle things with less danger.”

“Ghosts,” Prowl repeated, as if trying to understand the word. He’d never been given to superstition, nor did he think Optimus was, so it couldn’t be the typical definition. That just left the other one. “I’ve lived with those ghosts for annual cycles. I need to face them eventually.”

“You will.” Prime’s voice was warm and confident. “One day you will. You must be patient, though, and wait for a time where you will not be placing yourself in danger. Your time will come, my son. I want you to live to see that day.”

—

Praxian Wastes

Once, Praxus had been one of Cybertron’s largest and most thriving city-states. A center of cultural development, with a high focus on the good a bot could do for the community surrounding him or her. Skyscrapers had climbed to the heavens in a testament to their achievements.

None of that remained, save the Space Bridge that was at the center of all this trouble. The edge of the no-bots’ land leading to the Praxian Waste was marked by the crumbled remains of once-marvelous towers. It was these ruins that rose to greet the young Autobots as they arrived.

“We’re here.” Hot Rod transformed as they pulled up on the ruins. “Wheeljack, you got a reading on those energy outputs we’re supposed to be looking for?”

“Got it, and it’s hot.” Wheeljack strode up to Hot Rod, displaying the examiner markings. “Cosmos was right; it is like a farm getting sucked dry!”

“Are we close?” Arcee asked, peering over Wheeljack’s shoulder to get a look at the scanner (and trying not to make it obvious she didn’t understand it).

“Sort of.” Wheeljack tapped a few buttons. “The bridge itself is in the center of the city, but Praxians were nothing if not efficient. There are some tunnel roads that should take us directly there.”

“If those tunnels still stand.” Hound frowned at the wreckage in front of them. “There was a lot of damage done in the attacks, and if I recall correctly, a lot of subterranean structures were purposefully collapsed by the invading Decepticons.”

“So, we’re looking at a massive overpowered Space Bridge in a collapsed city currently owned by one of the most brutal dictators Cybertron’s ever seen.” Sideswipe gave a wink at Hound. “Nothing we’re not set for.”

“Come on, Sides,” Arcees replied, “it’s not so bad as that. Everyone knows the routes inside are practically empty. It’s the airspace Decepticons are usually worried about, and even then it’s not usually an issue.”

“Until today,” Hound retorted.

“Until today,” she conceded. 

“Which is why we’ll be careful when picking our paths,” Hot Rod agreed. “The Decepticons won’t be fun to run into if it comes to it, but we should be fine as long as we keep to the tunnels. By now, most of these should be alright, but we’ll take it easy all the same. Anyone have any questions before we get started?”

His inquiry was greeted with silence. “Alright, seems we’re all set to go. Autobots, Transform and Roll out!”

…

In the center of the ruins, a band of another sort was already hard at work at the Space Bridge. Keeping a high place in a position of authority, Blitzwing cast an unimpressed look over at his companions. “Lyzak, we’ve been at this for ages. Are you certain you know what you are doing?”

The bot in question, a smallish green beast-former, gave an awkward grin. “In theory, yes. It’s similar to a lot of the reports I’ve read, and it’s highly similar to the disruption back in Kaon. It’s just that…well…”

“Well?”

“I usually had help.” Lyzak ducked her head, keeping her optics away from Blitzwing’s disapproving stare. “This is the first time I’ve done anything so important, nonetheless alone. I don’t want to mess anything up, but it seems like there a thousand different-hold on, I’ve got this- things going on all at once.”

“You shouldn’t worry.” From where she sat as lookout, Nightbird didn’t bother looking at the other Decepticons. “Megatron believes you can handle the info gathering without unnecessary assistance.”

“Unnecessary is a-”

“Are you questioning Megatron’s orders?” Nightbird narrowed her optics dangerously.

Suddenly aware of the peril she had stumbled into, Lyzak immediately ducked back to her work. “Oh, no, never! Megatron knows exactly what needs to be done.”

“I would keep that in mind,” Bliztwing agreed, giving Nightbird an approving nod.

Before much conversation could go on, a sudden thunderclap broke over the ruin. Lyzak let out a squeak of shock and ducked down under the bridge, before peering out at the sky. “I didn’t think there was supposed to be a storm.”

“There isn’t.” Nightbird’s optics trained in on a blue figure flying in, followed close by a purple one. “Seekers inbound, General, primped-up pets numbers two and three.”

“And likely looking for one.” Blitzwing rolled his optics. “Where is our honored Starscream, by the way? It’ll be best to get these jokers out of the way as quickly as possible.”

“Sent to disciplinary training,” Nightbird replied. “Happened right before I left. Deczarus should be done by now.”

“All the better for us.” Blitzwing nodded. “I’ll handle our snooping princes; you two keep up the work you’re doing.”

They didn’t have long to wait. The two Seekers raced inbound, and transformed just before coming up to the trio of Decepticons. As expected, the duo were instantly recognizable as Thundercracker and Skywarp, the two younger Vosite princes sent to Kaon. Skywarp had his usual look of cocky idiocy stamped on his faceplate, but Thundercracker was another matter. Concern and steely determination seemed to overtake his features, and only intensified as he scanned the area.

“Greetings, your highnesses,” Blitzwing called out as soon as the duo approached.

He wasn’t given the opportunity to go one. Thundercracker only gave him a glance before marching past to Nightbird. “Alright, you shadow-rat, where’s Starscream?”

“I’m afraid Nightbird is quite busy,” Blitzwing insisted, grabbing Thundercracker by the wing and turning him around. “Any and all questions or comments will be directed to me.”

“Alright, then,” Thundercracker snapped. “Where’s our brother? Because he was out here, but then he returned to Kaon, and now he’s missing. The only word I have is that little sneak and spy was the only one who saw him before he went radio silent, so either she spills the beans or I start spilling them for her!”

“I would recommend holding back your threats,” Blitzwing replied cooly. “You may soon come to regret them.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s going to make me? You, frost-cessor?”

Suddenly, Blitzwing’s faceplate spun around, and the narrow, purple profile was replaced by a broader, red one. Accordingly, his body also shifted, causing him to shrink shorter than Thundercracker, but becoming significantly sturdier as well. “No, I will!”

Before things could come to blows, one of Nightbird’s shuriken came between Thundercracker and Blitzwing. “We do not need a fight here and now,” she scolded, motioning to the overpowered Space Bridge. “Not with a risk of setting things alight.”

Turning to the Seekers, she gave a hard look at Thundercracker. “You came here looking for Starscream? He was sent to the cells for discipline after he attacked an Autobot in spite of being warned not to engage. I’d imaging you’ll find him near your chambers right around now.”

There was a silent standoff for a few moments before Thundercracker sighed. “He’d better be there.” With that, he took off back in the direction of Kaon.

After a moment of silence, Blitzwing took a few breaths before his faceplate shifted back and he lengthened up again. “Those Vosites are becoming increasingly irritating.”

“Agreed,” Nightbird returned. “We were fortunate enough that he only provoked the Lieutenant coming out. Had it been Ops Agent…”

“...yes.” Blitzwing let out a sharp buzz, a clear sign of regret. “Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary. The Lieutenant handled things well enough.” After an awkward moment of silence, he went on. “How far along are you at your work, Lyzack?”

“It’s going to take a while,” she called back. “There’s a lot here, and with only me working on it, it’s going-what’s that?”

Letting out a sigh, Nightbird shook her head. “Just focus. We can deal with slow. You need to make sure things are running, though. We’ll make sure they stay clear.”

Chapter Text

Outside the gates of Kaon

Prime had been deeply concerned by the summons Megatron had sent out, and coming to the gates of the city state, that concern was only intensified.

As expected, Saber and Bee had arrived at Kaon already, and a large squadron of Kaonian guard stood, weapons pointing out at the two Autobots. The duo stood their ground and attempted to speak (with Saber making a point of staying between Bee and the weapons), but it did not appear their pleas were being listened to.

Upon his arrival, Optimus immediately transformed. There was an instant change in the tone of the place, with even the Kaonian guards seeming a bit overawed.

“We received a summons to come here, on order of Megatron,” Optimus stated as he approached. “I have sent these bots here to establish connections before my arrival. Is there any trouble with that?”

“Megatron is expecting you,” the guard answered, “but we’re on strict orders only to allow you and two serviles to enter. No one else, before or after.”

The other three Autobots clearly bristled at the “servile” comment, but remained silent. Optimus internally thanked them, as a fight would be the last thing they’d need at this time.

“I understand your diligence,” he stated, raising a hand. “The weapons are unneeded; we will comply without a fight.”

This seemed to appease the guards, who lowered their weapons. Still, they made no move to get out of the way, so Optimus signaled to his Autobots to take a few steps back.

“I’m sorry about this Optimus,” Bumblebee started as soon as they were out of auditory range. “I tried to explain things, but they threatened us as soon as we got here.”

“He made a valiant effort,” Saber agreed. “Under any other circumstance it would have been more than enough to charm a sharkticon.”

Optimus nodded to the duo, though he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “I knew Megatron quite well when we were young. Charming a sharkticon would be easier than getting his men to change an order. Still, you both did well. I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“However,” he added, giving a glance back to the gate, “this does complicate things. One of us will need to return. I selected you three because I believed, and still do, you are needed. However, I will not risk you by defying Megatron’s order.”

After a moment of thought, he continued. “I do believe there is a purpose to your coming. There must be something for you to do.”

“I’ll come with you, Prime,” Bee volunteered. “They won’t think twice about me coming in.”

Prime closed his eyes, pondering the conundrum. “You may have a point.”

Bee’s expression jolted. “R-really? I mean, I’m ready! Ready for anything!”

Prime chuckled. “Good to hear the enthusiasm. You may need it.”

“And Saber,” he added, turning to the young knight, “I have an important task for you as well.”

“Whatever you need in there, I will do so, sir,” Saber replied, giving a bow.

“That’s just it,” Prime replied gently. “I won’t need you in Kaon. I’d rather you go back to Praxus and check in on the team there. Should they need a fast escape back to Old Iacon, it would be more helpful for your to be on their team.”

“As you ask, sir.” Saber gave a respectful nod, before taking his speeder form and taking off.

“And as for you, Prowl,” Optimus added, mentally noting the look of discontent on the young officer’s face, “I may need you in particular when speaking with Megatron, provided he lets you two engage. He’s going to have some sort of plan up his sleeve, and he knows me as well as I know him. Having an experienced tactician in my corner will likely be invaluable.”

The logic of the request appeared to settle in and appease Prowl, how gave a respectful nod. “That makes enough sense. I’ll try to help in any way I can.”

“We both will!” Bee chirped.

Optimus gave a nod. “I know you will. Now, let us see what exactly we are needed for.”

—

Praxus

The journey through the Praxian tunnels took a bit longer than expected. The fact that they were old and run down was well known, but less so was the fact that they’d been turned into a maze by Cybertron’s natural terrain shifting. More than once had they found out that the tunnel they’d been traveling through was now a dead end, forcing a double back and finding another route. This only made the journey all the longer.

The atmosphere wasn’t helping things either. “Kind of creepy here,” Sideswipe muttered after the fourth turn around. “No light without the lamps, and just dust and rubble. You don’t think these places are haunted, do you?”

“Of course not,” Arcee was quick to responds. “Ghosts aren’t real, everyone knows that.”

“Actually,” Wheeljack replied, “while they are very rare, there are some instances of ghost occurrences that come up from time to time. These tend to be due to individuals with immortal sparks that, for one reason or another, refuse to go out even when the body gives out.”

“Immortal sparks are just a myth,” Arcee retorted, her tone sharp in an attempt to cut out the ghost talk.

“Well, not really.” Wheeljack’s own tone stated he completely missed the unspoken warning. “Like I said, they’re rare, and we’re probably OK since there was never a known instance of a Praxian with an immortal spark. Vosties, on the other hand-”

“Hey, Wheeljack,” Hot Rod called out, “we appreciate the history lesson, but maybe don’t discuss ghosts in places that might freak others out.”

“It freaks people out?” Wheeljack sounded genuinely confused. “Why would it be frightening? It would essentially be the same as just meeting another person, just sans a body.”

“The ‘sans body’ is the freaky part,” Hound replied. “Important part, both you and ‘Cee agree there’s not a chance of a ghost being down here, so lets just change the topic.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Hot Rod agreed. “So, did anyone ever visit Praxus before it ended up, well, like this?”

“Praxus and Pellechrome weren’t on the greatest of terms,” Sideswipe replied.

“I only traveled academically,” Wheeljack replied. “Lots of great schools!…can’t say I got out much while visiting, though.”

“I came here as a youngling,” Arcee answered. “We were running med-tents. Not as many bots came here as in other city-states, though. Had too much anti-Prime sentiment.”

“I’d guess you have the most experience then, ‘Cee. Care to take the lead?” Hot Rod offered. 

“Sure, but I’m not sure how well I can do. It’s been a long time.”

“Hey, it’s more than the rest of us have,” he returned, dropping back. “Except maybe Prowl.”

“Not that I’m protesting,” Sideswipe commented, “but why wasn’t Prowl sent? I mean, it’d make getting through this maze a lot easier.”

“Probably to avoid him developing a death delusion,” Wheeljack answered in a tone suggesting he did not understand how heavy his suggestion was.

There was an uncomfortable pause before Sideswipe spoke up. “A what?”

“Vivemortis,” Wheeljack explained, “or in more common terms, a death delusion, is a mental illness where bots become convinced they are already offline and begin to act like that’s the case. It’s exceptionally common among survivors of fallen city-states. In fact, the aftermath of Praxus’ fall was one of the largest recorded incidents of mass vivemortis ever, only potentially rivaled by the aftermath of Crystal City’s fall.”

“Oh.” Sideswipe’s tone betrayed an amount of embarrassment. “That.”

“It was one of our bigger concerns during the war,” Arcee added, “especially for newer recruits. You only joined after the ceasefire l, so there’s no shame in being unfamiliar.”

”Then how did Wheeljack know?” Sideswipe asked, his tone more than a bit miffed. “He’s newer than me!”

”Oh, I had to take a specific test related to mental illnesses back at my old job,” Wheeljack replied. “Afterwards everyone who took it talked to a nice doctor and we had to read about several disorders as homework. Vivemortis wasn’t one of them, but I kept reading past the assigned ones because they were so interesting.”

“Well, it’s a good guess, and probably the base reason,” Hot Rod agreed, “but doesn’t-wait, slow down. I think I hear something.”

The others followed suit, dropping pace as they sought out shelter. It wasn’t hard; the ruins provided plenty of areas to duck behind. They were also near a small opening out to the surface, from which voices drifted in.

“I think I’m getting close!”

“Close? You’ve been at this for hours!”

“I told you, it’s tricky to do this on my own.”

Hot Rod quickly shifted to his bot form, but motioned for the others to stay back. Creeping closer, he peered through the opening to get a look at what was going on.

There was a trio of bots standing around a slightly crooked space bridge. One of them, a teal beastformer, had her back to them as she worked on the space bridge itself, but her two companions were emblazoned with symbols proclaiming their allegiance.

“It’s Decepticons,” he whispered. “Three of them. Looks like they’ve got the same idea we do.”

“Should we head back?” Hound asked as he and the others joined up. “Or wait it out?”

“I say we fight.” Sideswipe flashed a grin. “It’s four of us and three of them. Odds are in our favor.”

“I wouldn’t choose that route so quickly,” Arcee returned. “We have numbers, but that mech over there is bigger than any of us. The smaller bot in the distance also has the gear of a cyber-ninja, so a tangle with her likely wouldn’t go over well, either.”

“We can’t just sit here,” Sideswipe argued. “There’d be no point to having come out here. We’d have wasted our time.”

“And let Optimus down,” Hot Rod agreed. “But Arcee’s right, too. We can’t just race in there, guns blazing. It probably wouldn’t work out well for us.”

“Maybe things would work better if we come up with some sort of bargain or deal?” Wheeljack suggested.

Hot Rod gave a nod. “That would work out well, but we’ll need to consider what we have to offer.”

“We are a healing order,” Hound suggested. “I mean, Decepticons usually are pretty independent, but there must be someone who needs help.”

“Maybe, but that would depend on who we’re talking to.” Arcee frowned as she turned over her mind. “My skills probably wouldn’t be so helpful, though. They’re famed warriors; no way they’d need a sharpshooter.”

“Hey, don’t cut yourself short,” Hot Rod replied. “Beside, surely one of us has something to offer.”

“Uh, guys,” Sideswipe cut in. “I think Wheeljack’s already started.”

Sure enough, while the others had been engaged in discussing their circumstances, Wheeljack had taken the opportunity to sneak out from hiding and approach the teal Decepticon. To the panic of his teammates, he had already reached her by the time they noticed.

“Uh, excuse me, Miss Decepticon,” he said, moving alongside her. “I couldn’t help but notice your work with the space bridge flux capacitor.”

She turned, a look of surprise on her face, but it appeared she recovered as soon as she saw where the comment was coming from. “You did?”

“Oh, yes. You’ve done a masterful job with it; especially since it doesn’t look like to have a zirconium spanner set.” He settled in along side. “The only suggestion I’d have is moving it slightly open to allow more gas exchange. Still, that’s only a minor nitpick.”

Her optics opened wide, and look of delighted relief on her face. “I was wondering why the reaction was happening so slowly! There wasn’t enough ventilation to allow for a replenishing. Now that things are picking up-”

“Intruder!” It appeared that Wheeljack’s arrival caught the notice of the other Decepticons, and in spite of the teal bot’s delight, they did not appear as enthusiastic. It was the mech who had shouted out, and a his thin blue faceplate had spun to a blocky red one as as pointed his cannons at Wheeljack. “Prepare to eat plasma!”

In a moment, Hot Rod reacted, withdrawing his hook-and-chain weapon. Slinging it out, he hooked the mech’s cannon, snagging it with the hook and pulling it away. He’d acted just in time, as the plasma bolt crashed a short distance away from the scientist.

“Try that again,” he called out, withdrawing his own gun as well, “and you’ll be taking laser bolts to the face.”

“Stop!” It was the teal bot who’d called out. “Blitzwing, look, they’re Autobots!” She motioned to the emblem now painted on Wheeljack’s chest. “They’re city neutrals.”

There was a tense standoff for a few moments as all participants except for Wheeljack and the teal Decepticon kept their weapons trained. Neither side seemed willing to risk a double cross by the other, and thus refused to back down. No one moved a gear.

Well, except for Wheeljack. “Should we get this new valve capped? We need the ventilation, but we can’t let too much of the gases escape or we’ve got the opposite problem from before.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” The Decepticon eagerly joined him at the vent in question, drawing a small piece out of a drawer in her arm. “I’m so glad to have a second set of optics on this. We didn’t have anyone to spare, but this is so hard to do alone.”

“I’d imagine,” Wheeljack agreed as he propped up the structure as they worked. “There’s way too much here for one worker; something’s bound to slip by.”

“Exactly!” She practically chirped with delight. “I’m Lyzak, by the way.”

“Wheeljack, pleased to meet you.”

There was a moment of awkward pause as all optics were on the scientists, who apparently were cheerfully oblivious to their respective sides’ enmity. It was Hot Rod who finally broke the silence.

“We aren’t here for trouble,” he stated, doing his best not to come off as threatening while still keeping his weapon out. “Just investigating.”

The Decepticon mech paused, his face twitching as he glared at Hot Rod. In a moment, though, the face shuffled around, taking back the lean, cool appearance from before.“There is nothing here to investigate, Autobot. Get on your way.”

“Nope.”

Lyzak’s simple statement seems to shake the entire scene. The two Decepticons seemed just as startled as the Autobots by the refusal.

“They are intruders,” the ninja insisted, “and cannot be allowed to remain.”

“How?” Lyzak paused in her work and glared at the ninja. “We never put up guards or barriers before today, so there’s no reason they’d have to think they can’t come. We’ve only had recent interest in the area again due to the Space Bridge. As it is, this place was left open to make a point, and has yet to be closed off.”

“And continuing,” she went on, “this is lightening the burden on us. Like I’ve been saying repeatedly, this isn’t a one-bot job. We might not have the hands to spare, but the Autobots are free agents. If they want to help, why should we stop them?”

There was a moment of silence before the Decepticon mech nodded. “Lyzak is correct. At this time, there is no ban on Autobots. There is, however, a ban on weapons. Relinquish them, and you may remain.”

“If you think we’re gonna-” Sideswipe started, though he was cut off by Hot Rod.

“I understand the feeling,” he replied, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile to his teammate, “but we aren't in the position to fight it; not without turning this place into a battlefield.”

“But,” he added, turning back to the Decepticon mech, “don’t think we’re going to be pushovers. Try a double cross and we will fight back.” He motioned for the others to put their weapons down, but maintained firm optic contact.

“Very well.” The mech nodded and lowered his own weapon. “But make no mistake. You are only permitted as long as you are needed.”

“That’s all we ask.” Hot Rod cast a glance at Wheeljack, who was working cheerfully alongside Lyzak. Hopefully, he’d be able to get the data Bulkhead needed without too much trouble.

And Hot Rod would figure out how to keep everyone else from blowing the area sky high.

Chapter Text

Kaon

There was a hush in the streets of Kaon as the bypassers watched the small procession. Reactions were mixed; some watched in rapt fascination while others ignored. Some were eager to reach out while others sneered. One thing was well known, though.

The Prime was in Kaon.

“Sure is friendly here,” Bumblebee muttered sarcastically. The Minibot had been staying as near to Optimus as he could since the drive in, and the Prime could sense an unease in his young student.

“They are merely curious, my son,” he stated in a low voice. “They mean no harm.”

“Perhaps not, but they leave me uneasy, too.” Prowl had not been huddling as close as Bumblebee, but Prime could sense he was also on edge. “It seems more like they’re preparing for something. Like they don’t trust us.”

Bee let out a sharp laugh. “If that’s the case, the feeling’s mutual.”

“Be careful,” Optimus warned, “and remember, we are in their home, as guests. If trust is to be gained, it must be earned.”

“That is a two way street,” Prowl commented quietly.

“True,” Optimus conceded, “but as it is, we only have control over one party. Please do what you can with that party.”

Neither Bee or Prowl replied, fully chastened by Optimus’s warning. Still, an unease hung over the small group.

Optimus knew this feeling well enough not to take the surrounding bots’ reactions to spark. He’d experienced such welcomes every time he’d returned since his appointment to the position of Prime. Primes were either celebrated or disdained in their native cities, and Kaon seemed unable to decide how to hold theirs.

Upon arrival at the Overlord’s palace, the trio transformed back to bot mode and headed inside. A wave of emotion swept through Optimus as they came into the courtyard.

A group of young but skilled gladiators standing outside the castle for the first time. They stand by a massive oil fountain in the front, where they would be observed by the old Overlord. It had been there that the group was ingrained with the sense that death or glory beyond what could have been suspected would be theirs. How that premonition had come true, at least for two of them.

“Optimus, sir? Are you alright?”

Shaken from his nostalgia by the question, Optimus turned to see Bumblebee peering up at him with a look of concern. “It’s alright, Bee,” he assured. “Just lost in memory.”

Bee nodded and turned back to the courtyard. Optimus suspected he was rather stunned by the mixed austerity and yet grandeur of their surroundings. As an orphan raised in the ancient underground cities, the harsh towers of Kaon must have been quite the jolt.

It had never surprised Optimus. The construction style matched Megatron perfectly.

They were met at the gate by a black and silver transport, who gave a salute as they approached. “Welcome, Optimus Prime. Megatron is awaiting your arrival. I will take you to see him now.”

Optimus returned the salute with a slight bow. “I thank you for the reception. We came as soon as the message was delivered. I trust that Megatron has not been waiting long?”

“Not at all.” The mech replied. “Come, I will show you the way.”

The stiffness of the formalities was palpable as they walked into the main greeting chamber. Optimus himself was long adapted to the stiff, empty words passed between dignitaries, but he could feel the effects on his Autobots as they strode alongside him.

Prowl, apparently used to such engagements, stood with a blank expression, though Optimus could sense a high amount of stress over his EM field. Well, a high amount for Prowl, anyway; it was likely well hidden from the Decepticons, who’d be unfamiliar with his mannerisms. Prime couldn’t blame his officer, and he was giving an admirable effort to remain calm in spite of his well-buried emotions.

Bumblebee, on the other hand, seemed completely on-edge. Optics wide, he appeared to be noting in every detail of the castle. Though he kept well in-step with the much larger bots surrounding him, his head swiveled this way and that, searching out and observing everything around him. His EM field practically hummed with a mix of dread, curiosity, excitement, and a defiance born from intimidation.

“Ah, Prime. It has been far too long.” Prime’s musings were interrupted as the bot they’d come to see entered the chamber. 

Megatron. A tread-haul who dwarfed even Optimus, Megatron was a figure who demanded to be noticed. Like his city, Megatron gave the air of unadorned grandeur, and almost all bots in his presence were sent into a stunned silence. Bumblebee’s mixed EM immediately changed to stunned fear, and even the stoic Prowl’s reserve seemed to waver at the sight.

Thankfully, Optimus was one of the few exceptions to this overpowering influence. “Indeed,” he replied, bowing deeply with his arms outspread. “I thank you for your welcome, Overlord Megatron.”

“Your thanks is accepted, and returned with gratitude for your swift response.” Megatron returned a bow of his own, with one arm crossed over his spark.

“I hope there is no offense if we cut straight to business,” Prime added as he straightened out. “I am rather concerned about the welfare of my Autobot.”

“You needn’t be overly worried,” Megatron replied, “but there is no offense at all. Your flyer is safe. Barricade will take your men to him and allow them to await your return.”

“My return?” Optimus wasn’t surprised by this in the slightest, though he carefully selected his words so as to not sound overly suspicious. “Then Cosmos wasn’t the only reason you requested I come.”

“Admittedly, no.” Megatron’s smile spoke to some hidden plan, one Optimus must be a key player for. “I have been having some trouble for a while, trouble I’m afraid I have needed your counsel on for sometime.” Prime knew this was flattery, but he didn’t bother to point it out. “The nature of your Autobot’s arrival was an unfortunate opportunity. The guilty party in this matter has already been disciplined.”

Optimus nodded, knowing full well he’d likely not want to know the nature of this “discipline,” even if Megatron would have been honest about it. “Very well. Speak to me about the nature of this concern, and then we shall trouble you no longer.”

“It is not a matter to be discussed among our inferiors.” Megatron cast a suspicious eye not only on the two Autobots, but on the Decepticons also waiting around the room. “The matter is far too sensitive.”

“Very well.” Optimus nodded slowly. “We shall discuss this alone.”

“Optimus, are you sure this is a good idea?” Bee’s question was posed over a private channel rather than out loud, but the way he hung by the Prime and his concerned glance spoke at volumes voice could not accommodate.

“It’s alright, Bumblebee,” Optimus returned over the private channel. “I’ll need you and Prowl to retrieve Cosmos. I’ll send further orders from there.”

“Prowl,” he added, turning to his strategist, “keep your comm line open. I may need to contact you before we meet again in person.”

“As you ask.” Prowl gave a bow, though Prime noticed the wary look he cast at the Decepticons.

Megatron appeared to notice as well, or at least Optimus assumed so from the pleased look in his optics. Whatever he thought, though, he didn’t mention it.

“Barricade,” he stated, turning to the Decepticon who’d led them in, “take the Autobots to reunite with their comrade. The Prime and I have much to speak of.”

Chapter Text

"Praxian, huh? I remember Praxus. Fun place to rip up. What rank did you make it to?"

Prowl had been doing his best to ignore Barricade as they traveled through the Palace's halls. It was no secret he wasn't pleased with being right in the base of the people who destroyed his home, but he had a job to do. Better to not let any lingering emotions cloud that mission.

Barricade seemed to take this as an invitation to jab harder. "What, umbracat got your vocalizer?" 

"We're here to complete a job," Bumblebee piped up. "Until that's done, that's what we need to focus on."

"Oh, really?" Barricade gave a gruff laugh. "I'm sure rust-joint here would like you to think that."

"It's the truth." Prowl had been thankful that Bumblebee attempted to divert the subject, but he suspected Barricade would continue this until he was got a reaction. "The return of Cosmos is all that matters at this moment."

"If that's all that matters, then why dodge the question?" Barricade gave a smug smirk as he tossed his arm around Prowl's shoulders. "Besides, it's not like anything's going to happen. You're protected by this." He tapped the red Autobrand emblazoned on Prowl's chest. "Wouldn't have an effect either way. So, come on, how high?"

While Prowl still worked to ignore the prompting, Bumblebee gave a buzz and attempted to get between the two. A valiant but vain effort. "Why would it matter? Like you said, he's an Autobot now. Just leave him alone."

Barricade snickered. "Well, pipsqueak, sans the little mark here, he'd be beholden to the Officer Purge Order. Any officer who'd belong to a city-state now belonging to Kaon would be set for one of two fates. Private or corporal, slavery. Sergeant or higher, death." He flashed a cruel grin and peered at Prowl once more. "So, which would you be, if you weren't trembling behind the Prime? Slave or scrap?"

Prowl ducked away, still working to ignore the taunting. "It is most important that we get back to Cosmos. All other discussions are superfluous. Besides, it seems we are coming to a checkpoint up ahead."

"Huh, seems so." Barricade gave a shrug before moving ahead. "Don't think we're done with this though."

As soon as they were on their own, Bumblebee sidled closer to Prowl. *Hey, you okay?* he communicated over the private Autobot text-system.

*I am fine.* Prowl returned. *Do not worry for me. It'll take more than childish ribbing to get to me.*

Still, while he refused to admit it, even to Bee, a part of him was torn. How many of his fellows had gone to their deaths, merely because they shared his title of Major, while he was left alive?

To say Starscream was livid would have been the understatement of the millennia.

Who does Megatron think he is? he thought to himself as he paced his quarters. He’d been out of the repair bay for around an hour, and yet his feelings of outrage had only festered. I’d been only working to protect that miserable little outcropping, and he acts as if I were the one who transgressed! That miserable pacifist shouldn’t have been out there in the first place, and yet I am the one who gets punished. Who cares if the Prime disapproves? Only superstitious simpletons care what the Prime has to say.

If I were in charge of things, they’d be different. Leaning back against the wall, he let his processor wander, bringing him to a much happier state of mind. There wouldn’t be any slips for those cowards. If they wanted to “do good,” then they’d do it by aligning themself to Vos, and to me. Unaligned outsiders, bah! Spies more likely. Megatron’s just to dim to think about that.

“Starscream, there you are!”

With his self-indulgent fantasies interrupted by Thundercracker’s call, Starscream turned to see his brothers tramping into their apartment. “Where else would I be?”

Thundercracker paused, taken a little aback by Starscream’s abrasive tone. He’d always been the most naive of the Trine. Starscream was simultaneously annoyed and concerned about him for that reason.

Skywarp seemed more prepared for the reaction, and chuckled. “Just heard you got your skid-plate kicked by Deathsaurus for shooting down that Autobot, that’s all. Wanted to see if there way anything left of you.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” he responded with a huff, intentionally leaving out that he’d just come from the repair bay. “Now if you both don’t have anything useful to do-”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Screamy.” Skywarp tossed an arm around Starscream’s shoulders. “And after Thundercracker and I just about got into a fight with General Three-Face on your account.”

That revelation did take Starscream by surprise. “Blitzwing? As in, Megatron’s crony? What were you doing poking around him?”

“Looking for you,” Thundercracker shot back.

“We thought we’d check out the scene of the crime, and ol’ Blitzy was there, along with Nightbird and Lyzak.” Skyward gave a shrug. “It was little miss stalky who recommended checking back here. Guess she knew about what was going on.”

“...yes. Her.” Starscream made a mental note to settle scores with Nightbird when given the opportunity.

Before the conversation could go on much longer, a murmuring started up outside in the apartment halls. Chatter started up on the private lines, and whatever it was that was being discussed, it was enough to work up everyone around into a gossip frenzy.

The Trine brothers headed outside without a word, curiosity urging to action. The source of the gossip turning out to be passing not too far away, and caused Starscream’s systems to fume with rage.

Two Autobots were being guided through the hallways, likely in the direction of the medbay, if Starscream had to make a guess. That was where the intruder spy was, after all.

They were being led by Barricade. There was no shocker there. Megatron often peddled the small yet annoying tasks off on him. Obnoxious bootlicker never made a complaint on anything he was told to do.

“Something about this isn’t right,” Starscream muttered under his breath.

“You mean about the Autobots?” Skywarp asked, a little too loudly for Starscream’s comfort.

“No, it's the turbofoxes," Starscream muttered sarcastically. "Of course it's the Autobots, you dimbulb, now keep it down!” He grabbed Skywarp by the wing and dragged him back into the apartments. Thundercracker followed as well, a concerned look on his faceplate.

“Hey, what’s the big deal?” Skywarp yanked himself away once they were inside. “It’s just a bunch of peacenik pacifists. Those wimps don’t stand a chance against us. Your shot this morning proved that well enough.”

“I’m not entirely sure.” Starscream frowned as he considered what was happening. “If this were nothing, why would the Prime himself personally come to speak with Megatron?”

“Maybe he just does care about his men that much,” Thundercracker hazarded to guess. “I mean, it would match his weird philosophy statements.”

“No, no, no, that’s far too silly.” Starscream gave a dismissive wave. “There’s got to be something else.”

“Well, the only major changes around here have to do with the Space Bridges,” Skywarp commented. “Unless it has to do with those, I can’t see what it would be.”

“That’s it!” Starscream snapped his servos. In a whirl, he rushed out to the balcony. “Come on, you two. Skywarp is right. We’d better get to those intruders before they reach the Kaon Space Bridge.”

“I'm right?” Skywarp gave a confused look as he and Thundercracker trotted behind their brother. “About what?”

“About the Space Bridges.” Starscream didn’t bother to slow down as he took his flier form. “Those Autobots are up to something, and I for one and going to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter Text

“Come, sit down.” Megatron motioned to the seats lining the grand table, as he himself took his throne. “We have much to speak of.”

Optimus nodded, following the request as he gathered his thoughts. “Let us cut straight to the point. You didn’t invite me here exclusively about Cosmos. Why did you want me here?”

“Direct as ever.” Megatron gave an approving nod. “You are right; your Autobot was merely a coincidence, though a rather convenient one, I will say.”

“Convenient?” Prime tilted his head as he fixed his stare on Megatron. Internally, a burst of rage ran through his circuits. As if any of his Autobots being put in mortal danger could ever be convenient. This, however, was not the right time or place to express said emotion, so he swallowed it. “Then I suppose everything said here and now is to remain between us.”

“I trust that you can do as much,” Megatron returned. “It’s a matter of the life and death of Cybertron.”

“Such matters have held little sway to you in the past.”

“For other city-states, yes. I’ve never been one to waste words on plaudits of philanthropy.” Megatron leaned forward in his throne as he spoke. “Kaon, however, is another matter. She is my center; my grounding force. It is for her growth that I have acted, and concern for her fate that I have called you now.” He gave a small smirk. “We may disagree on much, Prime, but I know you share a love for our homeland, though yours may be mingled with a sympathy for lesser states. Of all our peers, I trust only you to have Kaon’s interests at spark.”

Optimus opted to ignore the comments on patriotism and get straight to the core of the issue. “Kaon is threatened, then.”

Megatron nodded. “I’m sure you are aware of the Vosite hostages taking up residence here.” 

“I have heard,” Optimus replied, “though I haven’t had the honor of meeting them. Vos is extremely and openly suspicious of the Primacy, even more so than Kaon.”

“Nightwind’s nephews,” Megatron continued, “barely more than younglings. One of them, an upstart by the name of Starscream, is a favorite to succeed her as king of Vos, assuming she continues to lack any direct heirs.” He gave a chuckle. “Vos is so wrapped up in those antiquated ways.”

“Such personages make sense as important political hostages,” Optimus stated, eager to get back to the point. “I do not see how a logical choice for a political move would require an immediate request for advice, especially under such secrecy.”

“You apparently missed the important descriptor here,” Megatron clarified. “‘Upstart.’ Starscream has a clever mind and wild ambitions, and he allows those ambitions to override any sense he may possess. Though admittedly, I’m not sure if he ever possessed any sense. It’s clear enough Nightwind knows this as well; he’s eager to take a throne of his own, and it appears he doesn’t care quite which throne it is as long as he gets it.”

“He can’t be all that dangerous of a usurper if you already are aware of these ambitions,” Optimus replied.

In response, Megatron burst into laughter. “Not all that dangerous? Of course not; not at his age, at least. He’s a serpentron, give no doubt, but one that flashes his venom in neon colors. He’d be significantly more dangerous if he kept a low profile. As it is, he can’t help but flout authority and attempt to make shows of his own leadership skills, regardless of whether or not they exist.”

“No, no,” he went on, “the danger doesn’t lie in Starscream. Not in his brothers, either; they’re both worthless dunces that lack his drive. No, the danger is in the intention. Nightwind is trying to bait me into killing Starscream.”

Optimus paused, trying to gather his thoughts. “That is a severe accusation, and one that calls Nightwind’s character heavily into question. Do you have proof of such intent?”

“I had forgotten. While we may have started in the same state, you chose a spiritual path over a political one.” Megatron gave a condescending nod. “It shouldn’t surprise me that some nuances would be filtered out of your processor.”

“...yes. Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me on these nuances, then.”

“It’s quite simple,” Megatron replied. “Starscream demonstrated the same ambition in the court of Nightwind as he does here. Of course, that’s not a good individual to have around, especially when he’s significantly younger than her and capable of gathering a following of his own peers. However, she also couldn’t kill him without making her own self-serving interests apparent, even over the continuing of the line of Vos Kings. She can’t have that, after all; not in a tradition obsessed kingdom like Vos.”

“What can she do, though? It’s quite simple.” Megatron stood up and strode over to a window overlooking the courtyard. “She can arrange a political hostage situation. One with a current ally of Vos, though one with a tense connection. It’s one of the few that could hold any ground in a fight against Vos in the manner of war, enough that making a direct threat unprovoked would end, doubtlessly, in defeat and assimilation. If the leader of that country, who’s known to have a history of violence should, say, kill the most popular heir to the throne of Vos, however…”

“It would be an act of war,” Optimus finished.

“Ah, you learn fast.” Megatron gave a nod as he turned back. “An act of war; and one that would allow her to call upon support. Gang up on me and take the only chance she has to take me out and, by connection, take all of Kaon.”

“And the destruction of anyone caught in the crossfire,” Optimus added.

Megatron gave a smirk as he retook his throne. “Now you see why I believe we have a common goal, even if our methods of choice may wildly differ.”

Optimus paused to let the information settle. It was indeed a lot to take in, but it also made a lot of sense. Still, he didn’t like the implications of the matter. “There is some logic to it, but a cold logic.”

“Nightwind’s name fits her well.”

“I have yet to see where I fit into things, though,” he added. “As Prime, I am sworn not to play favorites. I am also no longer a fighter. My Autobots and I are agents of peace and healing; we have recourse to fighting only when all other options are death. We could not be allies in a war.”

“You think simplistically, your judiciousness,” Megatron replied with a shrug. “I do not need war alliances; I have plenty of those already. Besides, while you would be a warrior worth facing on the battlefield, I cannot say the same for those of your troops who I have personally observed. Except, maybe, those two knights, though I’m sure you’ve brought them up with the view of warfare Trion imprinted onto you.”

“Then what?”

“I am requesting a Writ of the Prime.” Megatron replied. “It’s the only way Nightwind would agree to a meeting of the minds to get…positions across.”

“You know that you, also, would be required to come weaponless,” Optimus replied.

Megatron gave a dismissive wave. “Please, this isn’t my first. Besides, wasn’t the last one successful in establishing the ceasefire?”

“Indeed,” Optimus agreed, though he couldn’t help but keep said ceasefire’s tenuous nature in mind. "I’ll see what I can-”

A sudden flash of light emanate into the throne room from the window, which was then followed by flickering of the castle’s lights. Both bots stood where they were in shock.

Megatron scowled at the interruption. “Excuse me for cutting this meeting short,” he replied, giving a sharp bow. “I trust I will hear your answer soon?”

“You may have it now,” Optimus agreed. “I will announce a writ soon, officially on ways to decrease interstate tension. I trust you will hold to your agreement of nonviolence?”

“I would dream of nothing else. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Megatron turned and hurried out.

Optimus did the same, and was soon guided outside by a new Decepticon. He was quite eager to find Prowl, Bumblebee, and Cosmos and get out. Hopefully they could stop near Praxus and check things out on the way back; he had an uneasy feeling about that sudden jolt.

The deafening explosion that followed did not improve his gut feeling.

Chapter Text

Earlier

Cosmos sat in the Decepticon medbay, every circuit alive with anxiety. He wasn’t sure what was going on. No one had bothered to explain things, and any attempt at asking was responded to with either silence or a barked order. At least he was alive and repaired, but that was a cold comfort when he knew both states could be revoked at any moment.

He’d spent several hours like this, when relief came in the form of the last bots he could have expected. 

“I appreciate the tour, but we really need to retrieve our companion and return to Prime.”

Pretty much any Autobot native to Old Iacon would’ve recognized that deadpan in a spark-skip.

“What’s the rush, Autobot? Jealous?” The Decepticon guide, whoever he was, appeared to have been enjoying the tour. Or, more likely, showing off. “We’ve got time.”

“You, maybe. We, however, have important work to get to.” Prowl was as unflappable as ever, apparently.

“It’s important work with the Space Bri-eep! What was that for?” It took Cosmos a moment to recognize the younger voice. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, but Bumblebee had never been on any missions before.

Prowl, likely the source of Bee’s sudden stop, spoke up again. “We are on a high priority mission. One we cannot give details of. Period.”

“Fine, fine, he’s this way.” The footsteps came closer, signalling the arrival of his rescuers.

As soon as the door was opened, Cosmos’ hopes were confirmed. “Boy, am I glad to see the both of you.”

“Same here!” Bumblebee pushed past Prowl and the Decepticon, both of whom towered over him. As a fellow Minibot, he and Cosmos were much closer in size, and thus it was a bit easier to stick closer together. It lessened either of their chances of being stepped on, anyway. “Are you alright?”

“I think so,” he replied, “but the service could have been better.”

The Decepticon looked like he was about to say something, but Prowl spoke up first. “Whatever the issue, that can be discussed later. For the moment, we need to reconvene with Optimus Prime and return to Old Iacon.”

“Hey, what’s the rush? You’d think from the looks of you, you were trying to escape.”

The conversation had been cut as three bots stepped in. While they weren’t near the size of an Optimus or a Megatron, all of them were massive compared to the two transports, and absolutely Titans compared to the two Minibots.

They were also easily recognized. “You aren’t supposed to be here, Starscream,” the Decepticon snapped. “Take your cronies and go grace some other bots with your presence.”

“On whose’s orders?” Starscream didn’t appear so easily intimidated. “I don’t see Megatron around, or any of his right hands for that matter.”

“Mine!”

“Oh, then the lackey’s lackey’s lackey, then.” He gave a buzz of laughter. “Gonna have to pull someone bigger than that, Barricade.” 

Barricade looked as if he were about to short circuit. “Why I’ll have you know-”

“Now, getting back to things.” Starscream pushed past Barricade and leaned down to make optic contact with Prowl. “What’s your rush, Autobot? You don’t have anything to hide, do you?”

Prowl stared steadily back. If he was intimidated at all by the Seeker, he wasn’t showing it. “We have important work to return to. We came here to retrieve our companion, and now that he is retrieved, we have no reason to linger.”

Cosmos couldn’t help but be impressed by Prowl’s resolve. If they had traded places, he would not have been able to keep his cool.

“Ah, yes,” Starscream retorted. “We already know about your work with the Space Bridges. Which leads to my question.”

“I have no reason to believe it is any of your business. And, as that is the case, what I know is not your business.” Moving past Starscream, Prowl motioned for Cosmos and Bumblebee to follow. “We need to get going.”

This, apparently, was not good enough for Starscream. “You will answer-”

“If you believe you have any concerns with Autobot behaviors,” Prowl replied, once more ducking away from Starscream, “then there are appropriate channels to go through to express such views. However, attempting to intimidate an officer under a non-meeting setting is not one of them. Now move, or I will be forced to engage more aggressively.”

“Shall we try?” Starscream raised an arm, the permanently mounted null-ray aimed directly at Prowl.

Before any engagement could occur, however, Barricade stepped in. “Arms down, Starscream. Like it or not, this band was welcomed in by Megatron, mostly to clean up your mistake. So, get out of the way, unless you’d like to discuss your position with Deczarus again.”

Whoever this “Deczarus” guy was, it seemed to be enough to get Starscream to lower his weapon. He looked far from happy to do so, but that needn’t be the issue. 

Cosmos was just relieved that it didn’t need to get to blows. As he started to follow Prowl and Barricade out, he leaned over to speak quietly to Bumblebee. There was just one problem.

“Hey, where’d Bee go?”

The startled tone of his voice must’ve caught Prowl’s attention, as he stopped. “He’s right-wait.”

Sure enough, the little yellow Minibot was nowhere to be seen, and adding to that concern, neither was Starscream’s purple brother.

“You’re sure this is going to be alright with your bosses?” Bumblebee asked as he followed Skywarp to the science levels of the Decepticon base.

Skywarp gave a casual shrug. “Sure I am. I offered. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Your brother sure seemed upset back there.”

“Him?” Skywarp laughed and gave a wave. “That’s just Starscream. He’s so uptight about everything. Besides, he’d not my boss.”

“Seemed like he was in charge up in the hallway. Enough to push past that Decepticon, anyway.”

“He likes to think he is,” Skywarp casually responded. “For that matter, so does Barricade. Sometimes its not worth fighting ‘em on it. Just go on with the flow and do what you need to when no one’s looking, that’s what I say. You don’t listen to mister black, white, and deadpan up there all the time, do you?”

“Prowl?” Bumblebee rubbed the side of his helm. “Well, this is my first mission, and my position in the Autobots is a little different, so I guess not. But-”

“See, you get it!” Skywarp flashed a smile and winked. “Besides, you Autobot guys are as eager to figure out what’s going on with the Space Bridges as we are. It would totally help if we all got an idea of what was happening, right?”

“Right.” Something about this just felt off, though Bumblebee couldn’t quite put his servo on why. Of course, he’d only been outside Old Iacon a few times growing up, and all of those had been in the strict supervision of Optimus, so maybe he was just nervous about being on his own.

He hoped that was the case, at least.

“And this is the best way to do it!” Skywarp sounded pretty enthusiastic on the prospect, at least. “I promise you, after today, you’re gonna know more about what those Space Bridges are up to than all those shell-heads back at home.”

“If you say so.” He hoped his Energon-intake system would just settle.

“I do.” They soon came up to a door. “The bridge is outside, just past this door. We’ll just go through, and you’ll have all the info you need. You’ll see.”

As they went through, Bumblebee was not surprised by the sight that lay before him. There was more scientists and tech in better condition than the ones back in Old Iacon, but the set up appeared much the same. The hookups and monitors all keeping track of what was going on and bots running here and there to deliver messages were new, but at the same time, familiar .

Skywarp, meanwhile, appeared to expect him to be impressed by all this. “See, what did I say?”

“It’s all nice,” Bumblebee replied, opting to leave out that it wasn’t all that much more impressive than what he’d already seen, “but what extra info do you have?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” The look on Skywarp’s face seemed to change, and something in Bumblebee’s processor told him to transform and get the heck out of there.

“Skywarp! What do you think you’re doing?!” Barricade’s barking command startled the both of them, and Bumblebee spun around to see the Decepticon marching in. Prowl trailed closely after with Cosmos, with the remaining Seekers close behind.

The reaction proved to be a mistake. As soon as his back was turned, Bumblebee felt himself lifted from behind, and in an instant, he was thrown through the opened Space Bridge. He hadn’t even had the time to cry out.

There was a flash of light, and suddenly he was sent flying into metal and some other material he didn’t recognize. There was a flurry of sound and noise, and he found himself staring up into the bluest sky he’d ever seen.

Praxus

Hot Rod stood on edge. As of this moment, the Decepticons had made no move to attack, and neither had any of the Autobots. Still, tension hung heavy as the two groups glared at each other, silently waiting for the work to be finished. No one was happy with the arrangement.

Well, no one except for Wheeljack and Lyzak, who were both chattering away in engineering jargon like it was some sort of secret club language. They, at least, seemed so lost in their work that a battle might very well have broken out, and they’d never notice.

"Well, here's something new," Wheeljack commented as he leaned into the bridge. "Looks like this one still has the key in."

"Key?" Lyzak leaned in to look. She was small enough that she could easily look in without him moving too much. "Hey, you're right! Kaon didn't have anything like that."

"Neither did Old Iacon. Maybe if I take it out, it'll cool things off a bit." There was a moment of silence, before he spoke again. "Or maybe not." He straightened up, holding what looked like a half-formed electronic chip in a pincer-tool. "And it's only a skeleton key. Once we can find something to work as a control panel for it, it'll be a functioning Transwarp key. At least from the look of things." 

"Well, it might not be the source," Lyzak agreed, "but it's probably why things started up here first."

Wheeljack nodded, studying the battered piece of metal in his hand. "We should hang onto this. Once we've gotten things settled, it could come in handy."

"Right!" Lyzak turned back to the console, as chipper as ever. The moment she looked at the screen, however, her expression blanked before shifting to one of deep concern. “Uh oh.”

“‘Uh oh?’ What’s ‘uh oh?’” Wheeljack leaned over her shoulder to look, and his expression soon matched. “Oh. That's ‘uh oh.’”

“What’s going on?” Hot Rod asked, hurrying over to the two scientists. He was joined by the Decepticon ninja, who apparently wasn’t tolerating the idea of an Autobot getting so close without a Decepticon to match.

“There was a sudden influx in the-” Wheeljack started, though he was paused as Lyzak put a servo on his face plate.

“This Space Bridge has been overloaded, and from at least two sides,” she explained, as the two scientists started to move away. “We need to get as far away as we can.”

“Get away?” Blitzwing sounded more than a bit irritated by the suggestion. “Decepticons do not flee.”

“Then you’ll get sucked into whatever that thing is doing,” Wheeljack replied. “We need to-” 

Before he could finish, there was the sound of a click. It was loud enough to drown out any other voices, and seemed to cause a stillness in the air. None of the bots, Autobot or Decepticon, seemed able to move once it had sounded.

Then Cybertron was lost in light and sound.

Chapter Text

Kaon Palace, Space Bridge Study Field

“What on Cybertron happened in here?”

Megatron was not surprised by the sudden silence that fell as he stormed into the Space Bridge courtyard. Few were willing to answer quickly when something went as disastrously wrong as what had apparently happened here.

Not that the silence really bothered him. It gave him a moment to take in the scene and judge for himself the level of trouble they were dealing with.

To the optic, there didn’t appear to be much. A few dents and a couple of workbenches knocked over. It was clear some sort of scrap had happened, but it had been small and self contained. No scorch marks or shattered equipment; whatever had happened, blasters had not been involved. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for one major issue, it would not have been anything to draw his attention.

The formally lit Space Bridge had gone dark.

Once he was certain enough time had settled for him to properly take notice, he turned back to the scientists now staring silently. “Well? Was I unclear in my question?”

As if acting as a wakeup call, this second command seemed to knock some of the bolder scientists back to reality. A red bot stood up and cleared her vocal tract. Megatron recognized her as Flamewar in an instant. 

An intensely loyal Decepticon. Good.

“There was an interaction here, sir, stirred up by the Vosite hostages and the Autobot guests.”

Why didn’t that surprise him? “And what exactly was that?” 

“The youngest of the Seekers brought the youngest Autobot down,” Flamewar continued, keeping her optics down as she spoke. “We initially took no notice until the rest of the group came, accompanied by Barricade. After that, events moved quickly.”

“Describe these events.”

“Skywarp picked up the Minibot Autobot and threw him through the Space Bridge. All at once, the other Autobots jumped in after, and Barricade shot a stunner at the Seeker. This tripped him up and he fell through as well. In retaliation, Starscream threw in Barricade before he and Thundercracker followed, I presume to retrieve Skywarp. It was at that point that the Space Bridge started acting up, likely due to the large number of unexpected travelers.”

Internally, Megatron wanted to rage. Of course, it was one of those wretched Vosites who caused all this mess. He was only surprised it wasn’t an intentional sabotage, at least guessing from the sloppy course of events. And to get the Autobots tied into this as well? That was likely to pull Prime into this matter. He’d have to trust Prime’s professionalism to hold firm in spite of everything, but if even one bit broke down, this could ruin all his plans.

“And the explosion?”

“The explosion, sir?”

“The explosion that occurred right after the brownout.”

Flamewar paused for a moment, before answering. “While that may be tied to the brownout, sir, that explosion wasn’t us.”

—

Kaon Battlements

“Prowl, come in.” Optimus waited in anxiety as his call was returned with static. “Prowl, this is Optimus Prime. Come in.”

Nothing. All his calls were met with white noise. His calls to Bumblebee and Cosmos were returned in kind. Nothing, not even a response that the line was busy. It was less like they were ignoring him or there was interference and more that they were just flat out gone.

Terror gripping his spark, Optimus turned to another route. “Star Saber, this is Optimus Prime. Come in.”

For a moment, there was static, filling Optimus with dread that another Autobot was gone. However, this lasted only for a second before the line was open. “Star Saber here, sir.”

Optimus restrained the cry in his vocal processor, fueled as it was by the burst of relief welling in his spark. “Saber, it’s good to hear from you. I’ve lost contact with the others who came with me after an explosion. Are you well?”

“I’m alright,” Saber returned, though his voice seemed weighted with concern. “I didn’t quite make it to the Praxian skies when the explosion occurred.”

“Then you were close enough to hear it?”

“Close enough to see it,” Saber replied. “It happened in Praxus.”

Hot Rod's team. “Can you get in contact with the team in Praxus?”

“They aren’t there.” Saber’s voice was slower, more hesitant, than Optimus was used to hearing him. “Praxus…well, it’s hard to say…you see…it’s…gone.”

“Gone?”

“Replaced may be a better description. The ruins are all gone and have been replaced by a green…thing.”

“Can you get in closer?”

“I’m on my way right now.” Saber, at least, sounded a little more confident now that the subject had turned to something he could actively do. “I think I can see buildings of some sort, but they’re small. It looks as if they may have been built for Micron, but they’re definitely buildings.”

“See if you can’t reach out to the bots within and get some information on what happened,” Optimus ordered. “I will come and join you as soon as I have things tied up here.”

“Will do. I’ll reach out if there’s any important information.”

“I will keep the line open. Over and out.” Optimus paused with a little hesitation before muting his line. Hot Rod and Bumblebee. Arcee, Hound, Sideswipe, Wheeljack. Prowl and Cosmos. All missing, maybe dead; and yet, something in the Matrix told him they weren’t. All this was just too much, especially all at once.

Yet, reality doesn’t care if it’s too much or not. In that moment, Prime’s intercom signaled to him, and the caller was both someone he never expected a direct, personal message from, and yet was exactly who would be reaching out right now. Touching a small button in his helm, he answered the call.

“I’m assuming new pressing information has come up.”

“For the both of us.” Megatron’s voice had lost it’s previous oily sheen. He was no longer giving a pitch.

“Both of us?”

“Your Autobots had vanished, along with one of my Decepticons and the three Vosite hostages. You could see how this will complicate the matter for all previously mentioned parties.”

Optimus’s coolant systems began to whir. As if he didn’t already have so much on his plate. “And with Praxus as well, as I am sure you will be soon to find out.”

“Praxus?”

“One of my men was in the airspace. It is gone. I will be joining him there soon to assess the damage and see if any are in need.”

There was a pause before Megatron went on. “That area still belongs to Kaon. Make sure you do not overstep your boundaries.”

“I will do as I have always done.”

“That is hardly reassuring.”

“I’ve never known you to be one who needed reassuring.”

For that moment, Megatron’s tone changed, and Optimus was sure he heard a chuckle. “Touche.”

Chapter Text

???

Bumblebee lay still in stunned silence, attempting to comprehend what exactly it was he was looking up at. The sky was blue, but a much brighter blue than the one that was visible over Cybertron. The stars, if there were any, weren’t visible in the slightest. Instead, fluffy objects like dust trails floated above him.

“Bee!” He was suddenly jerked up as Cosmos lifted him into a sitting position. “Are you hurt?”

The sudden arrival of his fellow Minibot shook Bumblebee out of his stupor, and brought him back to the moment. “No, I think I’m fine-”

He suddenly jolted as he and Cosmos were both yanked to one side. It took Bumblebee a moment to realize it was Prowl, who had grabbed them both and pulled them out of the way as Skywarp fell through, crashing down where the duo had been sitting.

“Keep your heads up,” Prowl scolded. “We’re on an alien world now, you can’t be daydreaming!”

At the comment, Bee realized Prowl was completely correct. Wherever they were, it wasn’t Cybertron. The ground where he (and now Skywarp) had tumbled down was not metal, but a soft brown substance that had crumbled where they hit. The Space Bridge was the only thing even remotely familiar. There were metal structures scattered here and there, some growing from the brown thing and surrounded by also-growing green things, and some built individually and unconnected to its surroundings.

Most fascinating, though, were the Micron-sized creatures that ran here and there, making loud, high-pitched noises as they ran away from the Autobots.

Before they could pay too much attention to the creatures, however, attention was drawn away as Thundercracker leapt through the space bridge. He was followed soon by Barricade, who skidded through to one side.

“What was that for?” Skywarp snapped, glaring venomously at Barricade as Thundercracker hauled him up.

 “For bringing an outsider into a private Decepticon science facility and then having the gaul to fling him through a Space Bridge!” Barricade struggled up, his own venom matching that of Skywarp’s. “Do you have any idea what security breeches you have caused? The inter-political incidents? And for what? A juvenile prank?!”

Skywarp immediately drew out his ray blaster, which was matched by Barricade’s arm cannon. A fight might have broken out then and there, but Thundercracker stepped in the way. “Hey, hey, it’s not the time to be fighting. We need to get back through and get everything cleared up. Hopefully this won’t end too badly,” he grumbled under his breath.

“For once, I agree with Thundercracker.” Bumblebee turned in surprise as Starscream added his own piece. The head Seeker must have come through when all the chaos was going down. “There has been a stir, but to the point nothing has been done that cannot be undone, and no one will make a deal of it.” Starscream turned and fixed his gaze on Prowl. “Right, Autobot?”

“I will report things as they happened,” Prowl returned, making his way well between his fellow Autobots and the others. “Whatever else happens after that is beyond my control.”

Starscream narrowed his optics. “Know that I will protect my own.”

“As will I.” Prowl kept his voice level, but the expression on his faceplate stated he knew the threat.

Barricade, however, was not going to be ignored. “Look, neither of you are getting out of this! Both of your groups trespassed onto Decepticon property!”

“Might I remind you that one of our own was kidnapped?” Prowl returned.

“Hey, I may have thrown him through,” Skywarp snapped back, “but I didn’t kidnap him! He came on his own.”

“So you admit to assault.” Prowl gave a huff.

“It’s a prank! That's not assault!”

Before the argument could go on much more, there was a sudden roar and rumble. The ground shook, hard, and all bots present were forced to duck down for cover. For what felt like forever, the planet shook, before suddenly coming to a stop.

Once things had been still for a moment, Bumblebee carefully pulled himself up. “What was that?”

”My best guess would be a drill-breacher or aftershock of some sort,” Prowl replied, working to act as a support for the Minibots in spite of his own shaky balance, “but why it happened would be the bigger question.”

Cosmos looked as if he was going to make a comment as he sat up, but suddenly he froze. In a moment, his optics widened in horror. “Oh, scrap. Space Bridge is down.”

The simple statement changed the mood entirely as all bots turned to look. Sure enough, the steady glow of the Space Bridge, which had not shut off for many solar cycles back on Cybertron, had flickered off and left the frame empty.

They were now stranded.

Remnants of Praxian Wastelands

As Optimus raced from Kaon to Praxus, he braced himself for this uncertain arrival. He hadn’t even arrived when he first saw the same difference Saber had mentioned. The glossy metal that formed the Cybertronian terrain suddenly stopped, swallowed by a field of fine green threads sprouting up around a long black road. Large structures occasionally rose from the field of wires, some brown, some metallic, and some both. In the distance, the faint glow of what he assumed was an Energon farm was visible, along with some lumpy structures.

A closer look didn’t make anything any clearer. Quite to the opposite; the nearer Optimus got to this bizarre new landscape, the more confused he became. The odd field, which he had assumed were wires, proved instead to be some sort of organic material, growing out of a grainy brown substance covering the ground. The non-metallic structures were also organic, composed of fibrous materials even the Matrix held no name for. The road, though more familiar than the odd organic surroundings, was also of some unnamed material, though mineral in nature.

If anything, Saber underplayed his explanation. Whatever had happened to change Praxus so drastically, it had to have been massive. In a more relaxed time, he would have stopped right there and investigated this new terrain in a more thorough manner.

Still, as Prime, he had people to tend to. No matter how intriguing this new environment might be, there were bots who needed him to act right now. He’d come back to smaller things later.

Thankfully, the road proved wide enough to accommodate his long-haul form. Racing down the black strip of mineral, he hurried in, following Saber’s EM frequency as soon as it became detectable. There were two other smaller Autobot frequencies alongside him. Moonracer and Beachcomber, he soon recognized. It really didn’t surprise him, truth being told. It must have been a lot for them to have been left off Hot Rod’s initial team, and now with the disappearances, they’d likely be all the more eager to be included.

“Prime to Autobots,” he called out as he drew closer. “I’ve entered Praxian territory and am approaching at your position. Please explain your situation.”

“Moonracer here, Prime!” The little bot’s voice rang through his comm, easily identifiable by her slight twang. “Beachcomber and I just got here to assist Saber handlin’ the little aliens.”

“Aliens?” Optimus had been aware there would be oddities the moments, but aliens complicated things. “What sort? Are they sapient?”

“We think so,” Beachcomber returned, “at least from the building structures they’re chilling out in. Moon and I have been trying to coax them out, but they’re pretty wigged out by our presence. Saber tried to help, but, well…”

“I’m pretty sure my size is a deterrent rather than an assist. Unfortunately, they spotted me before I could switch to Brainmaster, and I’m uncertain if seeing me swap would help the situation or make it worse,” Saber added in an apologetic tone. “I’m trying to stay out of view at the moment.”

“As for the type, it looks like they’re organic,” Moonracer continued. “About the same size range as Micron, though significantly more delicate looking. It sounds like they can talk, but the language they speak doesn’t resemble anything akin to any Cybertronian dialect.”

“And their behavior?”

“It was erratic, initially,” Saber replied. “They were outside attempting to figure out what happened when I arrived, but fled into their buildings as soon as I landed. So far, it looks like they’re trying to communicate from inside the buildings, but like Moon pointed out, we can’t exactly understand them.”

Internally, Prime frowned. Megatron would not take well to organic aliens showing up on what he considered his own territory and would not hesitate to exterminate what he determined to be vermin. At the same time, forcibly moving such delicate creatures, even for their own good, was libel to cause as much harm as good. This would need to be approached cautiously.

As he was pondering the conundrum, he passed by what he previously assumed was an Energon farm, and found himself correct. It was sized down significantly from what was familiar, however, and the technology surrounding it was rather primitive. At the very least, it was a sign the creatures, strange as they may be, had some sort of connection to Cybertron. Perhaps communication may not be as hopeless as he dreaded.

It was a short drive past the Energon farm that he came to where the three Autobots were waiting for him. Saber stood a distance away from the buildings, doing his best to not look quite so intimidating. Beachcomber stood nearer, though still kept his distance likely for similar reasoning. Being a biwheel, Moonracer had the best chance to reach out to the creatures, and thus stood at a square building formed of metal and mineral, attempting to reach out to the creatures within.

Realizing he’d likely have the same problem Saber did, Optimus drove near the young knight before taking his own robot mode. “Any changes in their status?”

“None,” Saber replied. “They attempted to call something to us, but it’s difficult to make out what their meaning is.”

“They’re communicating with each other a lot,” Moonracer added, “and I think I figured out which one’s in charge.”

Optimus kept his distance, but focused in on the building Moonracer was standing in front of. It was short, with only one floor, but thankfully was lined with windows allowing for easy visualization. Inside were the creatures, exactly as they had been described. Their legs and torsos were all a variety of different colors, but their heads, hands, and occasionally arms were all different shades of brown, from a pale pinky color to a rich, dark brown. Most of them had odd wires composing their helms, though two individuals had more proper looking yellow helms.

“Which one are you referring to?” Optimus asked, seeking out any distinguishing features from the aliens.

“The shorter white and blue one, with the yellow helm.” Moonracer explained. “When they all started running around, it was that one who seemed to get things under control.”

Taking a moment for observation, Optimus had to agree with Moonracer’s conclusion. While he couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, it did appear that the little creature she’d singled out was taking command of the situation. He appeared to remain calm while others were rushing about, and while all their voices seemed to run in the same high-pitched manner, his seemed to remain at the same tone and level no matter what was being stated.

“Good observation,” he stated. “Let me see if we cannot get a connection of some kind.”

Stepping forward, he came out from his hiding place and joined Moonracer near the store. Of course, he was significantly larger than she was, which would cause a degree of difficulty, but it was a roadblock that would need to be passed eventually.

Crouching down to try to bridge that difficulty somewhat, he looked into the building and made a small gesture, requesting the creatures come out. He then paused, remaining motionless, to see how the they would react.

Just as Moonracer had described, most of the creatures seemed to react in a rather manic fashion. Some scurried about, looking for places to hide. A few of them, including the taller of the two with the yellow helm, actually seemed more interested than frightened, and came closer for a better look.

The one Moonracer had singled out, however, kept his head. Coming up to the doorway, he peered out at Optimus, meeting optic to optic. Another of the aliens, a sturdy-built creature with a black wire-helm, stepped forward, but the yellow-helmed one put a hand on his shoulder. The two appeared to converse for a moment, the newcomer being a bit agitated about what he was being told, but the white and blue creature seemed to take the command. After some discussion, the newcomer backed down, and the one in charge turned back to Optimus and began moving to the entrance.

Optimus moved back a little as the creature exited. The little alien held his hands up in what Optimus assumed was a gesture of peace, and he called out something in a high-pitched voice. 

As he came out, a new detail about the creature became clear. While the aliens were organic, it appeared that they held an EM frequency, same as a Cybertronian. However, their frequency was dim, harder to sense that that of an adult Cybertronian. Indeed, it read more as the EM frequency of a newborn Sparkling.

The creature seemed aware of his helplessness, as the calm he’d been demonstrating wavered for a moment. The younger yellow helm and the black-wire helm rushed out, apparently ready to support their elder, but he waved them back again. He may not appear quite comfortable, but he was not going to turn and run either.

In an effort to help, Optimus straightened up and took a step back. Holding his arms out in the familiar position, he made a bow. “I welcome you to Cybertron, friends,” he stated aloud, though he doubted the alien would understand him. “My Autobots and I will do what we can to help you to adapt. I understand this is likely an troublesome arrival.”

Of course, the little alien did not respond in words. Optimus did not expect him to; the greeting was more to set him at ease. To this end, it appeared to work.

The alien straightened up and stated something out loud as well, before opening up his own arms and responding with an identical bow.

“It appears you guessed correctly, Moon,” Optimus commented with a slight laugh to his voice. “He gives ruler’s bow.” 

Nearby, the younger yellow-helm looked out at the robots with an amount of curiosity. Apparently observant enough to have noticed Optimus’s change in conversation partner, he looked over at Moonracer. Taking a few hesitating steps towards her, he reached out a small hand towards her. The older one shouted at him, but he replied in a calmer tone that appeared to seemed to appease his elder, if not set him at ease.

Optimus immediately noted a sense of excitement in Moonracer’s EM. “Optimus, can I?” she asked, a tone of pleading in her voice.

Taking a moment to consider the risk, Optimus thought things through. Eventually, he nodded. “Take it slow. We don’t know what they’re capable of, if we would injure them or they would injure us.”

Moonracer nodded, and taking her own cautious steps, reached back out.

The little alien was just over half her size, and the comparison was even more stark with the contact. Still, he seemed to relax a bit as he realized she wasn’t going to move, and even seemed to grow somewhat excited. Turning back, he let out a chirping sound to the shorter, older yellow helm, who responded in a tone equally cheerful, if somewhat more hesitating.

“He’s happy!” Moonracer let out her own laugh. “I can feel it in his EM!”

“You can?” In a moment, Beachcomber was by her side, crouching down to look at the organic. It was clear he wanted to reach out too, but a caution held him back.

The young organic seemed to notice as well, and gave a wave. He then turned back to the elder and gave a chirruping sound, which was returned with a like reply, albeit one that sounded more tense.

All this time, other organic creatures began to show themselves at building doors and windows. There was more than Optimus initially suspected; many must have started hiding as soon as they’d arrived on Cybertron. Most of them seemed anxious and not willing to come out, and some even held primitive blasters up in a threatening manner. A few seemed to share emotions with the young yellow-helm, however, and they started to trickle out of hiding. From the looks of a couple, there were even their equivalent of sparklings present, which were held close by adults.

“I don’t think we’re in any danger from them,” Optimus commented, taking in a thorough scan of one of the blasters. “Their weapons may cause minor pain, but I don’t think they’re capable of piercing armor.”

“And in reverse?” Saber’s question cut straight to what Optimus was worried about.

“We likely could be very dangerous.” Beneath his mask, Optimus frowned. “We will need to be very careful. Even if we mean well, these creatures are so delicate we could end up harming them by mistake.”

A sudden ping on his communication systems only brought even more trouble. “And as it is, we aren’t the only ones they have to worry about.”

Straightening up, he turned away from the little creatures to face the road nearest Kaon. “Moonracer, Beachcomber, see if you can’t suggest to the organics to get back into hiding. Saber, do you have the Starsaber on you?”

“I never let it out of my sight.” In the moment, Saber tapped his side, and the hilt of the fabled weapon came into view. As he withdrew it, a long Energon blade revealed itself, gleaming with an iridescent light tinged with gold. “Is there trouble coming?”

Prime nodded, withdrawing his own ax. “At the very least, an argument. If we can keep from a fight occurring, we will, but if I know Megatron, he’s not going to just let this stand.”

Chapter Text

Prowl was the first one to recover from the shock of what occurred. Quickly tapping at his helm, he turned as he processed their options. “Prowl to Old Iacon, come in. We are stranded on an unfamiliar alien world, and are requesting information on returning to Cybertron. Old Iacon, please reply.”

His call was returned with static.

“Old Iacon, come in!”

Prowl turned as he felt Bee’s hand on his arm. “They’re not picking up, are they?”

“There’s not even an attempt.” Prowl frowned, closing his optics as he worked through the data. “Either we’ve been removed from the Autobot radio system, or we’re too far from Cybertron to get a reply.”

“I’d bet on the last one.” Barricade’s comment stirred the Autobots, who hadn’t realized their conversation was observed. “Kaon’s not responding, either.”

“So, we’re stuck then?” Skywarp asked.

“They may be stuck here, but we aren’t,” Starscream replied with a snort. “Let the rollers figure out their own way back; we can fly.” Without waiting for a reply, he took his flyer form and flew off into the blue, followed by Skywarp and Thundercracker.

“Figures,” Barricade sneered. “Coward flies off for himself right away.”

“Uh, guys,” Cosmos called out as the others watched Starscream go, “I think we have company.”

Sure enough, standing a short distance away from the Cybertronians was a gathering of the little alien creatures. A number of vehicles sat between them and the bots, forming something of a barricade. A quick scan revealed no life signatures, meaning they couldn’t be alt mods.

One of the creatures, a tubby organic with a greying-yellow helm and faceplate ornament, stood just behind the barricade and yelled something in a strange alien language through an amplifier. “They’re trying to communicate with us,” Prowl commented. “Cosmos, can you adjust our communication frequencies to see if there’s some way to translate?”

“I can give it a go. Barricade, since you’re…” Cosmos trailed off as he realized the Decepticon was gone. “Ok, at least it makes things easier.”

As Cosmos worked, Prowl and Bee fell silent. They wouldn’t be able to communicate for a few moments as Cosmos worked out the frequency to match the language of this new world. Besides, they had to keep listening until what the alien said became clear.

It was only a few moments before that happened. “...have no problems bringing out the big guns,” the alien finished up. “Well, what do you have to say about that?”

Ah, there it was. They were speaking a specific vernacular of this world, designated by the language name “English.” It was a weird language, with a relatively small pool of sounds and inconsistent rules. Oh, well. They could run with that.

“Greetings,” Prowl called out, stepping ahead of the Minibots and giving a polite bow in the old Praxian style, arms held tight at his side and face up. “I am Prowl, chief security officer of  the Autobots of Cybertron. These are my companions, Servant of the Prime Bumblebee and Communications Lieutenant Cosmos, also of the order of the Autobots. I apologize for the sudden intrusion. My companions and I were only just able to learn your language a moment ago, so I am afraid we were unable to understand everything said before.”

Immediately the mood changed among the aliens. A low murmuring started up between them, which they might have thought was inaudible. “I do assure you,” he added, answering the whispered questions, “we are quite real, this is happening, and I am unaware if any beverages with spikes placed in them are nearby. If you would clearly repeat what you had stated before, that would be most helpful.”

The tubby leader from before seemed to recover. “Uh, oh, right. My name is Captain Carmine Fanzon, of the Westbay Police. State your business or return to where you came from.”

“Very well.” Prowl nodded. “As it is, we unfortunately have no business here, nor do with have a way to return to our world. We came through the Space Bridge by mistake, and it has powered down in meanwhile.”

“Space bridge?”

“The structure behind us.” Prowl motioned to the Space Bridge, which still sat as lifeless as ever. “It would be our route back to Cybertron, but at this time, we do not know how to activate it again to return.”

Fanzone turned to one side, dropping the speaker and placing his face in his hand. “'Move to Texas,' she said,” he murmured, likely to himself. “'There’ll be less machines than in Detroit,' she said. Never mentioned the stinkin’ alien machines.”

Turning back to face Prowl, he activated the speaker. “Alright, listen here. Seems like we’ve got more to solve than we can right now, but we can’t be having you freaking out the locals. We’ll need to move you discretely to a separate location.”

“That is reasonable.” Prowl turned to look at the local vehicles in front of him. “These should work out well.” Turning to the others, he quickly dropped back into Cybertronian. “These should be acceptable for temporary alt modes. Choose one to scan for the time being.”

Fanzone had been saying something else, but Prowl was no longer listening. Stepping forward, he selected the nearest vehicle. It was of a similar mass to himself, and nearly the same black and white he was. His red crest would likely need to adjust to the light on the top, which might change the color and material texture, but he was fine with that. 

Having made his decision, he let out a scanning beam, which engulfed the vehicle and downloaded the specs. His own internals whirred as his body rearranged to adjust to the new vehicle mode, and slight alterations were made to his aesthetics to match.

Nearby, Bumblebee had done the same. There had been a small, somewhat rounded vehicle with no roof that somewhat matched his body plan. The only major change to the Minibot was the roof of his vehicle mode, which seemed to have become a flexible material that now hung off his shoulders.

Cosmos, meanwhile, had selected nothing. “Is there something wrong?” Prowl asked, attempting to swallow the annoyance.

“Yeah.” Cosmos was slightly hesitating as he answered. “There are no fliers here.”

“No fliers…” Prowl closed his eyes and pondered the issue. “Do you think you can make it to the upper atmosphere?”

“Easily.”

“Good. Target Bumblebee and my signals and follow us from there. That should cover our trails well enough.”

“Roger that!” Cosmos took his vehicle mode and took off, rising high until he was out of sight.

“What the-!” Fanzone turned to Prowl with a look of shock and rage. “What the heck did your guy just do?”

“There were no alt modes suitable to him,” Prowl returned. “He will travel higher than the public can see, and then regroup with us later.”

“Alt modes?”

“Indeed.” Prowl nodded to Bumblebee, and both took their new vehicle modes. “I presume these will be inconspicuous enough.”

Fanzone paused, and his faceplate turned a bright shade of red. “You’re ripping off my car? That’s impersonation of an officer!”

“It is not,” Prowl returned. “I am an officer.”

Letting out a low grumble, Fanzone knocked his forehead against his car. “Of course it couldn’t just be aliens. It just had to alien machines.” Looking up, he sighed, turning his eyes to the sky. “Fine, fine. You can travel looking like my car. Just don’t you dare touch the siren.”

“That is reasonable,” Prowl agreed. “Can you guide us to the more convenient location?”

“Just follow along.” Fanzone slipped into his vehicle and started it up, before pulling off to this unknown destination.

Alien town in the Praxian Crater

Optimus Prime held his ground as he watched Megatron approach. He’d known this was coming, from the very moment he’d heard of the aliens’ appearance, but it didn’t mean this was going to be any easier.

“Arrived already I see.” Megatron took his bot form and strode up to Optimus, his fusion cannon already out. It appeared this was not the time and place for formalities.

“There are matters of urgency at play,” Prime replied.

“I can tell.” Megatron peered down at the store, where the alien leader was keeping the rest of his people in hiding. “Care to explain this infestation?”

“In the case of their arrival, no. They likely came in the same disaster that caused the ruins to disappear. However,” Optimus continued, “from what little observation we have done, it is reasonable to assume they are sapient.”

As they spoke, a few more bots flew and drove in, all emblazoned with the emblem of the Decepticons. Behind him, Optimus sensed Beachcomber and Moonracer withdraw their own light weapons, and Saber straightened out his grip on his sword. They were outnumbered now, and things could turn bad if Optimus didn’t get things under control, fast.

“They are either a pest control problem or are trespassing.” Megatron kept his optics fixed steadily on Optimus as he spoke. “While I understand you Autobots don’t seem to process that trespassing is a crime, it is one we Decepticons take quite seriously.”

“Trespassing is intentional,” Optimus returned, matching Megatron’s stance and optic contact. “You can hardly blame a creature for an event they had no choice in.”

“I don’t blame them, but that hardly matters,” Megatron replied, his tone calm and casual. “Unlike you, I don’t bank on intelligence. They may be, they may not be. I don’t care. What matters is that they are an infestation, and infestations are exterminated.”

As Megatron spoke, a smaller Decepticon had crept forward, and suddenly raised his blaster. He suddenly let out a shot directed at one of the building the aliens were hiding in.

Beachcomber, thankfully, had seen it coming and ducked in the way in time. The blaster shot crashed against his back as he shielded the aliens from harm.

Optimus moved in himself, snatching up the Decepticon by the back of the neck and hauling him up to optic level. “Drop it.”

The command was loud and clear. The Decepticon could only gape in shock as he dropped his blaster. Optimus didn’t both looking as he stomped down on the weapon, flattening it to scrap, before he released his prisoner.

Having made his statement, he turned back to Megatron, ready to take whatever reaction the warlord would give.

For his part, Megatron looked more amused than upset. Rather smug even. “Well, Optronix,” he said in a low voice, “you’re still alive. I’d thought you’d died in Prime.”

It was a deliberate attempt to get a rise out of him. Optimus knew he shouldn’t respond; he’d already taken a risk, necessary though it was. “We will not allow these creatures to be harmed. Life and freedom are the rights of all sentient beings.”

Megatron gave a buzz, but suddenly his expression changed. Optimus sensed an incoming call, likely to the Decepticon Warlord, though he wasn't privy to the information. For a moment, his emotions flashed from amusement to concern, and at last annoyance. Finally he shook his head. “You’ve gotten lucky, Prime. There’s another matter I must deal with. You have three solar cycles to move those creatures. Any found after that time will be dealt with my way.”  

“Decepticons, remain here,” he ordered his men. “The Autobots are allowed to evacuate the infestation. Make sure they do nothing else.” Having said his piece, he glared down once more at the the small town before leaving.

Still outnumbered, but with time being bought, Optimus turned back to his Autobots. “Beachcomber, are you alright?”

“I think so.” Beachcomber attempted to give a cheery smile, albeit the grimace was still visible behind it. “Just a dent. It’ll be easy enough to beat out, which is more than I could say if that shot hit home.”

Prime glanced at the building and noted the small faces peering out. Sparklings or younglings, no doubt. “Agreed.”

“At least Megatron didn’t push things further,” Moonracer commented as she assisted Beachcomber. “Why do you think he left in such a rush?”

“We can’t know for certain,” Saber replied, now feeling safe enough to sheath his sword, “but Megatron has more on his plate than just us. Some little aliens probably don’t rise to the same amount of importance as other matters.”

“Whatever he’s dealing with must be serious,” Optimus agreed, “but that won’t last long. He’s not one to be disobeyed, and we came very close to a disaster here.” He peered over to the Decepticons, obeying their command but clearly looking for an excuse to start up a fight. “Moonracer, the nearest city right now is Axiom Magnum. Transport there and get a few others to help; we’ll see if we can’t coax our guests out in the meanwhile.”

“On it!” Moonracer immediately transformed and rushed off.

The task now laid out, Optimus turned back to the little creatures. The bold ones who’d previously emerged were still visible, albeit hesitant to come out, likely due to the watching Decepticons. The ones who hadn’t been so bold were now hiding deeper in the structure.

This was going to take some time.

Chapter Text

Westbay, Texas

Somehow, in spite of being stranded on an alien world he may never return from, Bumblebee was having the time of his life.

*How’re things up there, Cosmos*

*Blue. Really, really blue. You and Prowl are staying in the brownish-green, though. Is it nice?*

*Amazing! Lots of dust and rocks, but it’s more the way it’s arranged. We’ve passed a couple of the native creatures, humans I think, but we haven’t been able to stop yet* A twinge of regret passed through Bee, even if he knew there was a good reason.

*Looking forward to joining you, then*

“Bee, it looks like we’re arriving,” Prowl called back, careful to speak in the native language for their guide’s sake. “Stay close and be ready for instructions.”

“Roger that!” Bee returned. He set his optics to peer around the two police cars he was following, eager to see whatever signs Prowl had noticed.

Right ahead, “signs” turned out to be quite literal. A big brown sign was standing straight ahead, with the words “Westbay Junk” written in faded silver letters.

“A junkyard?” He had a difficult time restraining his surprise. “Why are we going to a junkyard.”

“No idea,” Prowl admitted. “I’m sure there’s some logical explanation.”

They didn’t have too long to wait to find out. As they approached the main building, another human came out and waved them down. “Morning, officers. Is there something I can help you with?”

Taking this as their cue, Bumblebee and Prowl both pulled to a stop and transformed back into robot mode. It was the work of a moment, but didn’t go unnoticed by the new human.

“What the…?”

“Sorry about that, Charli.” Captain Fanzone stepped out from his own car and cast a look of annoyance at the Cybertronians. “Couldn’t think of anywhere else to take them. Is Clay in?”

“He’s back in the barn.” Charli motioned back, but her eyes were glued to the Autobots. “Are those robots?”

Bumblebee saw the opening he'd wanted for a quarter of an hour and took it with both hands. “Hi, my name is Bumblebee,” he introduced, kneeling down to get closer to Charli’s level. “This is Prowl, and we’ll be joined by Cosmos soon.” He turned back to see Prowl, who appeared to be in a conversation with the Captain. Oh, well, he could join later. “Pleased to meet you!”

“Hi.” She automatically held out her hand, but her expression was still one of shock. “Charli Watson. Wha-who are you guys?”

“Uh, hmm.” Bumblebee paused to ponder the question. On Cybertron, the Autobots as a group were well known, but here that would be another matter. “Well, we’re Autobots.”

“Autobots?”

“It's short for Autonomous Robots,” he explained. “Our founder chose that name to express our lack of connection with any political organization back on Cybertron. Most relief groups would have a governmental association; we don’t.”

“Relief group,” Charli repeated, her face screwed with thought. “Like the Red Cross?”

Bumblebee paused, his internal computer system looking for any matches to “Red Cross.” “I think so. Not perfectly, but kinda. You’re on the right track, though.”

Charli nodded, before blinking a few times and stumbling back. She looked as if she was about to faint, and Bumblebee fought with himself to decide if he should catch her or not. He eventually settled on reaching out to provide support just in case, but not actually touch her. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled and placed a hand to her head. “I’m good. This is just…a lot. To take in, I mean.” She let out a sigh and leaned against his hand. “Not every day a girl finds out about alien life. Nonetheless because they drove up to her work.”

“Tell me about it.” He returned her laugh and settled into a sitting position alongside her. “I didn’t exactly expect to be literally tossed into a new world this morning.”

“Tossed?”

“It’s a long story.”

It was at this point Cosmos arrived, descending from the blue sky alongside them. “This where we’re camping out for the time being?”

“Pretty sure,” Bee called back. “Prowl’s taking to the owner. This is Charli, by the way.” Turning back to the human, he gave a nod towards the newcomer. “This is Cosmos. He’s an Autobot, too.”

Charli just nodded, her look of confused acceptance frozen on her face. “Glad I didn’t opt to just stay in bed today…”

…

Prowl wasn’t particularly happy with how open and revealed this place was. No shields, no cloaks, from the sense of it not even an early warning signal. Even as an Autobot hideaway it was woefully unprepared.

Still, it wasn’t like there was much of a choice. After the destruction they (or more accurately, the purple Seeker) caused, they were fortunate to be receiving any help at all. This was not the time or place to be choosy.

Besides, should their host be open to it, he could suggest improvements on security later.

They approached a large building made of a substance Prowl didn’t recognize. From the opened sliding door came a few muffled voices and the sounds of metal rubbing against metal.

“Let me do the talking here, alright?” Fanzone cast a glance up at Prowl. “You’re gonna get a, well, unusual response.”

“I will only speak if spoken to.”

This seemed to appease Fanzone, who turned back to the building. “Clay, you in here?” He knocked on the open door, leaning into the space. 

There was a bump and the sound of rattling, before another human voice called out. “Little busy at the moment. Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid our situation is quite urgent,” Prowl replied, “though if need be, we are capable of waiting for assistance.

Fanzone immediately spun around on him. “I said let me do the talking!”

“He asked a question that I had the most immediate answer to,” Prowl returned. “It seemed like a case where I was the one being spoken to.”

“Next time, check with me to see if that’s the situation!”

“Is everything alr-oh.” Prowl looked up to see a new human peering out of the doorway. He was taller and slimmer than Fanzone, with a wire helm and facial ornamentation of a darker color. “Uh, can I help you?” he asked, his eyes glued on Prowl.

“Sorry ‘bout this, Clay.” Fanzone pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “This is the only place I could think of with enough metal to hide them while I contact the feds to clear this up.”

“And they are…?” Clay glanced between Fanzone and Prowl, waiting on an explanation from one of them.

“Aliens, I think,” Fanzone replied with a sigh.

“My name is Prowl, of the Autobots of the planet Cybertron.” Prowl crossed one arm over his chest as he slipped into a traditional Praxian bow. “My companions Bumblebee and Cosmos, also of the Autobots of Cybertron. We ask and thank you for any hospitality you can provide while we attempt to make it back to our home world.”

"Denny Clay.” Clay held out his hand but make no other move, as if frozen in shock. “Cybertron? I think I’m going to need to sit down.”

“Dad! Dad!” A younger voice suddenly range  out from in the building. “There’s robots here!” With a thudding of steps belaying his small size, a dark-helmed youngling slipped into view. “Charli's…” The youngster trailed off as he spotted Prowl.

“Hey, Russ.” Clay gave an uncomfortable laugh. “We got some guests, uh, I think.”

Prowl gave a nod. “We do not intend to stay any longer than is necessary. Returning to Cybertron is our most urgent objective right now.”

The boy stood for a moment, before turning to his father. “What's a Cybertron?”

Fanzone shook his head. “I think we all need an explanation on this.”

“I will be happy to oblige, provided you have a place that would support our discussion.” Prowl eyed the large building, uncertain of its usefulness in the matter.

This seemed to snap Clay out of his shock. “Oh, yeah, right. Come on in!” He motioned for the others to follow.

Tapping at his comm, Prowl signaled for Bee and Cosmos to follow. He suspected he’d need some help with this.

Chapter Text

Wreckage Row, Kaon

Keeping a cloaker up so no one noticed his movement, Megatron scanned the streets of Wreckage Row. An old, mostly abandoned area of Kaon, few would think to keep an eye on the old oil taverns and rundown betting joints that lined the old neighborhood.

Which is exactly why Megatron had it monitored.

Touching his comm, Megatron opened the private line only a select few of his servants had. “Soundwave, report your location.”

Instead of a verbal reply, a small trap door opened at the base of a building nearby. It was well cloaked, and from the looks had been established for quite some time.

Megatron ventured into the trapped door, and found himself in a dim but well developed observation room. Screens showed a series of cameras set up all over Kaon, providing reports on any and all situations that might be of concern to the overlord. It was all viewed by a hulking bot staring at all of the screens.

As soon as Megatron came in, the sentinel stood up and bowed at his master’s approach. “Welcome, Overlord Megatron. All systems are primed and awaiting your command.”

Megatron nodded, pleased with the setup. “Have you confirmed the identity of little rebellion's ringleader?”

Soundwave gave a nod and motioned to a screen with the image of a green bot on it. “Designation: Startup. Son of a deceased member of the Helix Plateau microstate senate.”

“I remember.” Said territory was one of the last places taken before the ceasefire. “Annoying little province, but good for Energon supplies.”

“Startup has been the one stirring previously noted anti-Kaonian ideals and separatist sentiment,” Soundwave continued. “As of now, he has recruited 70% of the Helix Platau’s adult population into rebellion.”

“That’s not too difficult a feat, considering their small size,” Megatron mused, “but a problem to be dealt with nonetheless.” He eyed the computer monitor, showing Startup speaking before a mass crowd of bots. “Is this a live feed?”

“Affirmative.”

“What percentage of his followers are present at this time?”

“85%.”

Megatron chuckled. “A fool’s mistake. Even a rookie should know better.”

“He believes he will instigate the fight tonight.”

“I guessed as much.” Megatron nodded. “I trust you have called in the support.”

“Primed and awaiting your command.”

“Excellent.” Megatron stretched out his arm, allowing his fusion cannon to reveal itself. “If it’s a battle Startup wants, it’s a battle he will get.”

The oil tavern was barely guarded. A single bot had been left in charge of sitting on the trapped door opening with a measly blaster. It was so amateurish as to be insulting. Megatron hadn’t even needed to use his cannon when dispatching the sentry to the Well of Allsparks.

Leaving two Decepticon guards to more carefully watch the liberated entrance, Megatron strode down into the gathering hall. It was a massive cellar, shaped long ago by the united tavern owners who used it to store high grade and other contraband, and currently was acting as a meeting hall for just over a hundred or so would-be rebels. Of course, there were more bots there, but Megatron knew his own spies well.

At the moment, Startup stood in front of the crowd speaking in impassioned tones about the greatness of the Helix Plateau, and how it was their destiny to retake their homeland. His skills as a speaker were impressive. He might have done well as a motivator, had he not failed so spectacularly as a military commander.

“And even now,” he continued, bellowing out his message to the onlookers, “those of us who remain are the ones who now must raise up the banner! Show the Kaonian astro-rats we aren’t going to be subdued just because we’re a smaller nation than them! Let us show Megatron and all his ilk we are just as worthy to a throne as him!”

Megatron could hardly have requested a more perfect introduction. “Is that so?”

The air practically froze as Megatron’s voice echoed out over the audience. It had been a simple question, leveled without hostility, though the menace of the bot who uttered it caused enough dread to hold the room in sway on its own.

When Startup didn’t respond, Megatron carried on. “I am sorry to hear you haven’t found Kaonian hospitality as welcoming as I had hoped. Though, I do suppose, it can be quite difficult to accept a change, even when it’s to your benefit.”

Startup clenched and unclenched his fists, optics burning with hate as he glared at Megarton. Still, he didn’t make a sound in reply.

Seeing his hesitance, Megatron merely laughed. The stunned masses could only stare as he sauntered up. “What? Have you nothing to say? Just a moment ago you were going on about how you were all going to show me how wrong I am. How you all are greater than I ever could imagine, if only I could see! Well, I can see. Show me.”

Realizing the bait, Startup gave a whir, as if trying to work out how to handle the sudden challenge, especially now that the warlord was there, towering over everyone in the crowd. It was clear he hadn’t expected such an immediate chance, and Megatron could see the fear and doubt in his eyes.

Finally, though, Startup recovered himself. “Yes, of course.” Working up the courage, he attempted to match Megatron’s confident stride. “Megatron, we the population of-”

“No, no, not like that,” Megatron replied with an irritated groan.

Startup froze. “What?”

“You speak so confidently, yet hide behind words of the masses.” Megatron rolled his optics and motioned to his younger rival. “Look at yourself. No one will stand up for you. No one will help you, no matter how you shape yourself as a champion.”

Taking a step forward, Megatron swung himself onstage. A few of Startup’s followers attempted to stop him, but were brushed aside without any difficulty.

“Now,” Megatron went on, casually striding up to Startup and pulling out a sword, “we can get to the main event.”

Startup flinched and backed up, surely expecting Megatron to attack him. The look of dull shock on his face when the warlord instead tossed the sword at his peds was priceless.

“Go on, pick it up.” Megatron withdrew his own melee weapon of choice, the star and flail. “You wished for a chance to show me your might and take your throne. Far be it from me to stop you. I only demand you earn it, same as I did.”

Realization of what was happening flashed in Startup’s eyes, and a cocky expression came to his face. “This is where you underestimate the progress of the people!” Raising a hand, nearly every grown bot in the room pulled out a weapon and pointed it at Megatron.

Megatron just sighed and rolled his optics. “We’re really still keeping to the trite talking points are we? It’s a bad comedy, really.” He snapped his servos, and in an instant over half the armed bots switched targets to the others taking aim. Within a few moments, Startup’s actual followers realized how outnumbered they were and dropped their weapons.

“So, let us begin your lessons on how to be an effective ruler.” Megatron pointed to the blade still lying on the ground. “If you are to inspire action in your followers, you must initiate the action yourself. Too many would-be figureheads skip this step. Pick it up.”

Optics darting between Megatron and the weapon, Startup hesitantly obeyed. Automatically, he brought it into the starting position for a fencing match.

“Going for the Riftrun stance, I see.” Megatron smirked. “You’re confident in your skill.” 

Without warning, he suddenly swung out with the flail. Startup jumped back to avoid the star, but missed the trajectory of the flail, the long energy chain wound itself around the blade, the star striking Startup on the hand and forcing him to drop the sword. A deep dent was left in his wrist, and cracks had formed in his arms.

“There’s your first mistake,” Megatron commented, flicking his flail so the sword came down point-first and embedded in the stage. “Or, at least, the first I will address. Never assume a battle for the throne will be the same as a fencing match. They are two very different situations. Pick it up and try again.”

“My hand-”

Megatron grabbed Startup by the neck and dragged him to the sword. “You self-styled as a revolutionary and a ruler. The tides of power do not wait until you are comfortable and healed. Pick it up.”

Startup hesitantly obeyed, and attempted to swing the sword around. From his stance, it was clear he was in pain, but there was no way Megatron was letting this go.

Dashing forwards, Megatron swung at his enemy again. This time, Startup seemed to realize what had happened, and jumped back. Tumbling over a table that had been set out for props, he ducked underneath it for cover.

Not that it really helped. Megatron swung hard, smashing the offending furniture with the star and striking Startup in the back. Knocked flat, his foe lay on the ground with bits of metal and the armor of his back torn open.

Behind Megatron, he heard as several of Startup’s followers started screaming. A number must have attempted to climb the stage, because the Laserbeak and Buzzsaw let out the telltale screams of the Illusion Strikes. Megatron himself had long become immune to these attacks, but Soundwave was wise to be taking full control.

Not bothering to look back, Megatron stepped down on Startup’s back, lightly at first but slowly raising pressure. “Mistake number two: going into any situation without some plan of defense. When you take power, you put a target on yourself. Ladder climbers everywhere will turn their eyes on you and there will be no mercy. The bots you fully trust should be countable by a sparkling, and you should never trust any room. Not even your own chamber.”

Grabbing Startup by the back of the neck, Megatron hauled him to his peds and shoved the sword at him one last time. “Regroup! I’m not finished with you.”

Without much other option, Startup obeyed. The sword flopped awkwardly from his injured hand, but he attempted to raise it higher.

Lashing out once again, Megatron struck the sword with his mace and chain. This time, though, Startup compensated by adjusting the sword to his good hand and succeeded in blocking. It appeared being disavowed of his delusions of grandeur had improved his survival instincts.

Shame it was far too little, far too late.

Taking advantage of the blocking maneuver, Megatron switched from focusing on the sword to swinging to entangle Startup himself. It was sparkling’s play. Overshooting the sword by a short amount, he wrapped the flail chain around Startup’s good arm. That star hit home, hopelessly smashing the limb and leaving the foe completely helpless.

It was time to finish things. Taking a hard jerk, Megatron sent Startup tumbling. Striding over to his fallen enemy, he placed a heavy ped on Startup’s chest plate.

“Pl-please,” Startup begged, any last trace of his former pride now stripped away. “Let me go. I’ll leave, right now. You’ll never hear from me again.” He didn’t even have the power to raise his voice.

Megatron merely stared down, his expression devoid of both compassion or enjoyment. “Mistake number three: the moment you engage in a play for power, you accept your own death. It may come sooner or later, and you never submit to it, but it will come. The world of power is one of kill or be killed. If you cannot kill as a conqueror, you must die with dignity. Otherwise, you die as a bug.” His tone never changing, he stomped down, extinguishing Startup’s spark. His enemy let out an agonized cry, before going still and fading to a death-grey.

The task finished, Megatron turned to see the crowd. The faces were mixed, with experienced Decepticons just as casual as ever but the prisoners staring out in horror. No one moved a servo.

“Soundwave,” Megatron called out, leaving the corpse of his foe without a second glance, “have you completed the full room processor sweep?”

“Ratbat is currently completing processor sweep,” Soundwave reported. “Current progress: 89%. Predicted finish time: 2 minutes.”

The crowd jolted in shock, and numerous optics began scanning for the offending dynabat. However, none could resist. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were certain of that.

After waiting for the completion time in silence, Ratbat fluttered down from his hiding place and came to rest on Soundwave’s shoulders. In a flash, he transformed into a pair of headphones, which Soundwave adjusted and plugged into a small slot on his neck. “Information processing complete.”

“Not counting the Decepticons here,” Megatron started, “what percentage of the bots here can be swayed to the Decepticon cause?”

“15%.”

“A smaller number, but I suppose to be expected considering the small size of the group. And those who may be broken?” 

“39%”

“Well done, Soundwave. Have the initial fifteen percent taken to the closest education facility and the thirty-nine to the prisons. The remainder,” Megartron ordered, “make an example of.”

“As you command, Megatron.” Soundwave turned and faced the crowd as all other Decepticons pulled out the remaining prisoners. “Ravage, eject. Ratbat, eject. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, regroup.” In a moment, the animals all did as they were bidden and gathered at Soundwave’s feet.

“Rumble, Frenzy, emerge.” Twin guns, holstered at Soundwave’s back, shot out and transformed, revealing two micron Targetmaster brothers.

“It’s about time!” Rumble (or was it Frenzy? Megatron could never remember) exclaimed. “We haven’t seen action in forever!”

“What’s the plan, Boss?” Frenzy (or was it Rumble?) asked.

The answer came soon enough. “Operation: Extermination.”

Megatron did not bother to stay for the aftermath. The twins’ chuckling, followed by the screams that followed, told Megatron his order was being carried out. With the tape sent to the right individuals in Kaon, there would be no uprising tonight. Or any night for a long time at least.

Tonight had been a cathartic release for the overlord, but he now needed to return to business. There was a Writ of the Primes to prepare for, after all.

Chapter Text

???

The world was a series of dancing pixels in front of Hot Rod’s optics as he came to. His body was stiff and sore, and he felt as he’d been strapped down to some bar of metal as the world rushed under him. The only sign of anything outside of his battered frame was Wheeljack’s voice coming over the radio.

“Wheeljack to Autobots, come in! Uh, is that what we’re supposed to say when we get separated? I’ve never done this before.”

Letting out a groan, Hot Rod internally activated his radio in response. “Hot Rod here, Wheeljack. Where are you?”

“Well, I don’t really know,” Wheeljack replied. “After that mass teleportation event-”

“Wait, what?” Hot Rod was still feeling groggy, but even in this state he couldn’t have heard the words he thought he just heard.

“The mass teleportation event,” Wheeljack repeated. “It happened when the space bridge overloaded.”

“Wait, we teleported?”

“Exactly!” Wheeljack sounded far too cheerful for the significance of such a suggestion.

“I suspect we ended up wherever the connected Space Bridge was located,” a faint female voice added. “Wheeljack and I agreed it made the most sense.”

“Wheeljack, who is that?”

“Oh, that’s Lyzak. She and I must’ve been knocked offline in the same area, because when the aliens took us, they separated us from you guys and the other Decepticons.”

“Wait, aliens?” That jolted Hot Rod fully awake. Unfortunately, his surroundings were dark, so he couldn’t fully make out where he was. However, he could determine that he actually was strapped to some sort of table, and from the rumbling underneath him, he was moving. Switching his sensors to a Spark-signature scan, he located Arcee, Sideswipe, Hound, and two others. Hot Rod guessed those were the unaccounted for Decepticons. Wheeljack and Lyzak, however, were not in sense range.

They were also significantly more relaxed than Hot Rod about this whole situation.

“You know,” Lyzak commented, “in this situation, we’re the aliens. I mean, we’re on their planet.”

“True,” Wheeljack agreed, “or more likely. I mean, we both could be aliens. Its statistically improbable, but possible.”

“Wheeljack,” Hot Rod tried to cut in.

“Well, yes, but they apparently have enough knowledge of this planet to be able to pick up and transport seven Cybertronians, not to mention the debris in the area,” Lyzak returned.

“Wheeljack-”

“It’ll be interesting to see if they are capable of communication,” Wheeljack continued on, apparently oblivious to Hot Rod’s attempts. “They’re at least intelligent enough to build land and air transports, though none of the sounds they’ve been making make sense.”

“Oh, I bet I could try to scan for a database input and find out their language!”

“Good idea. Once we-”

“Wheeljack!” Hot Rod regretted losing his temper, but they didn’t have time for this. “Could you please focus?!”

“What? Oh, sorry.” At the very least, he sounded genuine.

“I can’t tell where you are,” Hot Rod went on. “Or where we are, for that matter.”

“That’s because the aliens put us on different transports,” Wheeljack answered.

“Of course,” Hot Rod muttered, more to himself than to Wheeljack. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Probably because you were unconscious at the time,” Lyzak responded. “I only know because I was kind of online, due to Wheeljack shielding me from the majority of the blast. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome!”

OK, so remember, no rhetorical questions. “Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Only in the general sense,” Lyzak returned. “Wheeljack and I were loaded into copter-transport, and we’re going east of wherever we previously were.”

“You guys are on a ground transport,” Wheeljack added, “and are headed south. Oh, and it looks like the skeleton key is active and heading southwest.”

“Skeleton key?”

“Yeah, remember that skeleton key we pulled out?” Wheeljack asked.

“Yeah?”

"It’s going a completely different direction from any of us.”

“Can you at least beam me the signal?”

“Sure thing!”

Hot Rod sighed and started testing his bonds. “Well, whatever I was tied up with doesn’t feel too tight. Maybe I can just…get…” His efforts were rewarded by a subtle snap as he got one arm free. “Perfect!”

“Rod?” A weak voice echoed from the dark nearby. “You there?”

“I’m here, ‘Cee,” he called back. “A little tied up at the moment, though.”

“You don’t say,” a sarcastic female voice, definitely not Arcee, commented.

“In that Nightbird?” Lyzak’s voice, still coming faintly over the radio, seemed to perk a bit. In a moment, her voice was a bit clearer, though coming from Nightbird’s direction. “Lyzak here! Are you and Blitzwing OK?”

“I think so,” Nightbird returned. “Blitzwing has yet to wake up. Hopefully it’ll be the General. He’ll have an idea of how to handle things.”

“We’re going-”

“I know,” Nightbird interrupted. “You’re heading east, us south, and the ticket back to Kaon southwest. I was awake for the conversation with the Autobots.”

“Alright, then.” Hot Rod didn’t like the thought that their entire conversation had been eavesdropped on by a Decepticon. Somehow Nightbird seemed worse than Lyzak, though admittedly he’d only known them both for a couple of hours. “I’m still working my way free. Anyone have any plans?”

A whirring came from behind Hot Rod, followed by a sinister chuckle. “Well, we’re all in the dark about this, aren’t we?”

Nightbird out a groan. “Oh, great. It’s Ops Agent.”

Hot Rod didn’t even have time to ask what was going on before “Ops Agent” continued. “Well, let’s get a light going!” He let out a wild cackle before the world erupted in flames.

It took Hot Rod a moment before he could focus again. Whatever it was Ops Agent did, it’d blown their prison to smithereens and sent all occupants flying. On instinct, he sought out the other Autobots to see if they were alright.

It didn’t take long. Arcee was already on her peds and moving, and whatever it was that happened had apparently woken Sideswipe and Hound. Both were struggling to get up and staring at the reason for their escape.

Standing proud in the middle of the wreckage was Blitzwing, though in neither the tall, cool-headed face nor the short, hotheaded one. Instead, it was almost like his face was gone, save for a jagged maw that glowed red. He’d also elongated, but his limbs and head hung as if his joints were too loose to hold them up. “Get it?” He cackled, jerking his head in Hot Rod’s direction. “Get a light going? ‘Cause I lit everything on fire!” He let out another series of piercing cackles, which caused all surrounding bots to flinch.

“Ops Agent, cut it out!” Nightbird ordered. “Return control to General, now!”

“But I’m having so much fun!” The head flopped backwards as he looked to her, but turned in a moment when a small squeal sounded. “Ooh! More toys!”

Hot Rod followed his line of sight, noticing for the first time a little creature lying on the ground. It was covered head to ped in black, save for his pale brown face. A single look stated the creature was alive, organic, and unarmed.

“Peekaboo! I see you!” Not bothering to flip his head upright, Blitzwing swung his arm around to fire a freeze bolt at the creature. The unfortunate being cried out in pain as he was frozen to the road.

Recognizing what was happening, Hot Rod dashed in, pulling out his hook and chain as he did. “Hey, pick on some bot your own size!”

The strike hit home, and Hot Rod succeeded at yanking Blitzwing’s arm away from the defenseless organic. Unfortunately, the Decepticon recovered and snatched the chain. With a flick of the wrist, he tangled Hot Rod in the chain and hauled him closer. “Oh no, too small. Better use this one as bait!”

“Wha-whoa!” Hot Rod could only hang on to the chain he was still tangled in while Blitzwing spun him around high in the air, singing a sparkling’s nursery rhyme. As he flew, he could just catch glimpses of Hound getting several of the organic things clear and Nightbird racing off. Apparently she’d given up on the idea of getting Blitzwing under control.

Not good news for the Autobots.

Before he had time to notice anything else, the song came to an end and Blitzwing let go. Hot Rod was sent flying…only to stop before smashing into the ground.

“Gotcha!” It only took Hot Rod a moment to recognize Sideswipe, who was slowing their descent with his jet pack. “Seemed like you could use a hand.”

“Could’ve used one a few moments ago, but I’ll take what I can get.” Hot Rod flashed his companion an embarrassed smile as he straightened out his chain. “Guess I underestimated his strength.”

“Hey, not that I don’t appreciate a good chat now and then, but could you two please give me a hand?” Arcee snapped. While Sideswipe had been coming to Hot Rod’s rescue, and Hound to that of the native creatures, she had taken the burden of distracting Blitzwing. Unfortunately, her typical strategy of opening fire while keeping a good distance off wasn’t helping much, due to the Decepticon’s apparently unending limb-length. She only was able to duck out of the way as his arm lashed out, spray fire and ice as he did so, nearly swiping her off the rock she was perching on.

Hot Rod nodded. “Think we have the opportunity for a wrap-around?”

“You read my mind.” Sideswipe gave a cocky grin, allowing a pair of wheels to emerge from his heels. “I’ll go right.”

“Then I’m left,” Hot Rod agreed. “Let’s just see how far we’ll go.”

Dashing up, the two took off in the direction of Blitzwing, who was thankfully still distracted by Arcee. Each running his chosen direction, they caught bot of Blitzwing’s arms and dragged him back to the thickest of a dozen metal poles that lined the roadway. Zipping around each other as fast as they could, they entangled the Decepticon to the pole, trapping him where he was.

“Well,” Hot Rod commented once they had reached the pole, “I’d say we’ve got the situation in hand.”

“Just about neatly tied up,” Sideswipe returned.

“Alright, you two, enough with the puns.” Arcee rolled her optics as she joined them. “Let’s just make sure things are secure so we can get a move on.”

Getting tied up seemed to snap Blitzwing from the excited rampage he’d been on, and his face spun around again. This time it settled on the red face, and in response, his limbs de-tangled as they shrank down to a more reasonable length. “You puny astroworms!” he shouted, pulling out two missile launchers. “Once I’m done with you-!”

“Lieutenant, come in!” Nightbird’s call came over Blitzwing’s radio.

“Not now,” he snapped back, “I’m trying to obliterate-”

“Obliterate the pacifists, I know,” Nightbird called back, returning his tone. “As fun as that might be, we don’t have time. There’s a Transwarp skeleton key to get.”

“You handle that,” he replied. “I’m getting rid of these pests!”

“Yeah, I would,” Nightbird growled, “but someone’s sonic cackle blew out my long-range radio sensor! We’ll need an aerial view to pick up its signal, and only ⅓ of us here has the ability to do so! How about you give him control so we can go back to Kaon?”

Blitzwing scowled, but turned to the Autobots. “You bolt lice are lucky. Next time I’ll annihilate you!”

Before the Autobots had the time to react, Blitzwing’s face spun once more, this time taking the lean, purple profile. “Still, it would be best to make sure you can’t follow, so…” Letting out a spray of his freeze beam, he froze the trio of Autobots where they stood. Having finished his quick task, he took his flyer form and raced into the sky.

“OK,” Hot Rod commented as he and the others chipped away at their icy prison. “We won, I think.”

“Well, we aren’t captured anymore, anyway,” Arcee returned, yanking her leg free. “Albeit this is a mess.”

Sideswipe, for his part, scanned the area as soon as he was free. “Did you guys see where Hound got to?”

It took a bit of searching, but they soon found their wayward Autobot a short distance off, behind a sturdy cliff side. He’d gathered some of the native organics, about seven in total, lined them up, and covered them in a temp-regulating tarp. He’d then positioned himself between them and the battle, missile launcher out and ready in case danger came close.

As soon as he recognized the trio, he relaxed. “Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, he’s gone,” Hot Rod assured. “They safe?” He motioned to the small line of organics. Most weren’t moving, save for a faint wheezing as they transported air in and out, but two were awake and staring with wide eyes.

“I think so.” Hound looked back, a tone of grief entering his voice. “This is less than half of the ones I’d found. The rest were already offline.”

“Poor little guys,” Arcee cooed, moving closer to get a better look. “They’re kinda cute, too.” She reached out and attempted to touch one of the sleepers’ heads.

This didn’t seem to sit right with one of the creatures, who let out a sharp sound and attempted to push between Arcee and the sleeper. He was of a darker complexion than most of the sleepers, with a curly wire-helm, and he seemed to give an impression of authority.

“It’s alright, li’l guy,” Arcee stated, though she still backed up. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Hound, did you scan for their language?” Hot Rod asked. “This would probably work better if we could explain ourselves.”

“I tried.” Hound gave an awkward shrug. “Whatever that cackle was, it blew out my long range scanner, and it doesn’t seem like there’s any communication establishments near here.”

“Then we’d probably better get moving.” Pausing for a moment, Hot Rod pulled out the smallest flare emitter he had. Pointing it to the sky, he shot it off, resulting in a burst of light against the now orange tinted evening. 

Turning to the authoritative organic, he pointed to the trigger and handed the flare over over. “There’s about twenty more charges in this; that’ll let them call out for help.”

“You sure we shouldn’t do more?” Sideswipe asked.

“I hate admit it,” Hound responded with a sigh, “I don’t think we can. We don’t know a thing about organic biology. Making sure their own finds them is the best we can do.”

“And lucky for us,” Arcee commented, staring out into the distance, “it looks like there coming right now.”

Her companions followed her line of sight, and noticed the line of vehicles racing in their direction. “That’s one weight off our shoulders,” Hot Rod commented. “Now on to the next part: finding that key and Wheeljack.”

“And what 50% of a plan do we have for that, oh fearless leader?” Sideswipe asked, giving a crooked grin.

Hot Rod returned the smile. “Actually, it’s 75% this time. Wheeljack was able to send the signal before out line was cut off, so I know where it is relative to our position. Now all we need is some alt modes for this planet.”

“And I think I know where to find them.” Hound pointed up to a picture, which was being held up by the pole they’d tied Blitzwing to. On it, the images of different transport alts were pictured, along with an arrow to one direction and alien writing.

“Good optic,” Hot Rod commented with approval. “They might also have a comm center there, so we can try to get a language download. So, shall we Transform and Roll Out?”

Chapter Text

Alien Town

Just as Optimus had predicted, moving the little alien population wasn’t easy. It had taken a ton of coaxing and about a dozen or more Autobots arriving to negate the Decepticon presence, but they eventually got things up and going.

Thankfully, difficult was not impossible. They now had things moving, in no small part thanks to the alien leader, nicknamed Sparkplug for distinction. Optimus’s strategy had been to convince him of what was going on, and then let Sparkplug manage things from there. Thankfully, Sparkplug appeared rather good at reading his surroundings, and upon apparently figuring out the Autobot trailers were here to help, began arranging for the transport of their people and supplies. Whatever he was doing must have had an effect on the others, because as soon as Sparkplug started taking charge, most of the other creatures started to fall in line.

His younger companion, who Optimus was now almost certain was his offspring, proved to be a good help as well. He had his father’s boldness, but tied to a youthful energy and innocence. He’d often sit for long periods of time, just observing and occasionally speaking up, before receiving some order or other and taking off at high speed. Due to his movements in such spikes of energy, several of the Autobots had come to call this youngling Spike, and Optimus couldn’t help but find it fitting.

Not that father and son were the only interesting little ones. Once enough coaxing happened that organized moving parties started up, very many of the little ones’ personalities became clear. Emotions ran wild with these little beings, to the point that their joined EMs almost gathered enough to be mistaken for a bot. Fear, curiosity, anger, hesitation, and wonder all mingled into a chaotic mash.

It appeared that the older sparklings and smaller younglings, especially, seemed to bear a curiosity about the Autobots their elders were having difficulty containing. An entire yellow hauler of them had flooded out upon the arrival of support, and the adults had made it a priority to get them back into line. Still, every now and then, one of the Autobots (even Optimus himself!) found one of the children attempting to climb on to get a better look. It was very good they’d already raised attention to the high caution level to accommodate the aliens' delicate nature, or else he feared to think of the consequences.

Which led to Optimus running into the guardsman several times. The little creature had previously been the one to stand guard near Sparkplug along with Spike, and had apparently appointed himself a protector. More often than not, if one of the sparklings got where they weren’t supposed to be, he’d be the one to intervene. He also held a fire that made him ignore his own vulnerable nature, letting out sharp barks if he deemed a bot too close and attempting to protect his fellows, in spite of his own diminutive stature. Optimus couldn’t help but nickname him Ginrai, as he held the burn and an intensity so often found in gladiators before the pits broke them.

Often times, Ginrai was assisted by an alien of another sort, a four-limbed creature covered in the odd wires that only seemed to form on the biped’s helms. This creature also let out a series of sharp yips, and would help to herd the other organics to safety. It was one of a number of odd wire-covered creatures the bipeds brought with them. Its movements and protective behavior reminded Optimus of Roller. He’d need to check in on his cyber-hound when he returned to Old Iacon.

As the evacuation went on, however, Optimus noted a new problem to divert his attention. Along with getting the creatures moved, the aliens made a point of packing large piles of organic materials and as much of a clear fluid as they could find. It took Optimus longer than he would have liked to admit to figure out these were the creatures’ consumables. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to eat Energon, but they’d need something. 

The fluid itself was easy enough to identify: H2O. While not amazingly abundant on Cybertron, the tops of some mountains held it in solid form. They could mine some without too much effort, should the creatures’ supplies run short.

The consumables, on the other hand, was a harder problem. They didn’t match anything on Cybertron to his knowledge. The closest thing he could think of was the lichens that sometimes popped up in wild zones on the upper levels of the planet. Even still, there was no guarantee those wouldn’t be toxic to the little creatures rather than helpful. But if they ran out before a replacement supply could be found…

Getting the Space Bridges safely running, both to return the aliens to their own world and to find their missing Autobots, was now his highest priority. For everyone’s good, that problem would need to be solved, and solved fast.

His mind wandered to his Autobots. Where were they now? Were they running into the same problems the little visitors were?

Hot Rod and his band were almost certainly on the aliens’ home world. At the very least, that suggested they had Energon, albeit the amount was in question. Still, those kids were creative, and Hot Rod had the makings of a leader to him. Optimus had intended this to be an easy test for the youngster’s abilities. Easy. How wrong that had turned out to be. Optimus would just have to hope their intelligence and ingenuity would keep them out of trouble until they could be rescued.

Prowl’s band was more in question. Since they’d gone through the Kaon bridge instead of the Praxus one, there was no telling where they’d ended up. Perhaps the same world, perhaps another one, perhaps the dead of space.

No, I can’t think like that. He shook off the idea and anxiety that came with it. They had to be somewhere. Besides, Prowl was practical, Cosmos knowledgeable, and Bumblebee personable. Between the three of them, they’d take care of each other.

Now if only this belief would relieve the burden on his spark.

Optimus had been so lost in his thoughts, he’d almost not noticed when a small, soft hand touched his ped. The onrush of curiosity mingled with anxiety caught his attention, and he turned to see one of the creatures staring up at him.

It took a moment for him to realize it was one of the adults. She was on the shorter side, even for the little creatures, and had a darker complexion to her arms, face, and helm. She stared up at him, and pointed up while commenting something.

Deciding to humor the creature, he knelt down to her level. “Hello, little one. Do you have something to tell me?”

The alien jolted, but he sensed it was in excitement rather than fear. Twittering consistently, she started rummaging in a bag she was carrying. Never stopping for a breath, she alternately turned between him and the bag until she pulled out a small object not unlike a data pad. She opened it and started flipping through fibrous sheets until coming to a specific one, which she held up for him to see.

To Optimus’s surprise, he recognized the image. It was a famous motif on Cybertron, from long, long before his time. Thirteen figures stood in a row, one facing forward and six on each side facing him. The center bot was holding the Matrix above him, the rays of its wisdom bathing Cybertron. 

“Prima is gifted the Matrix.” Optimus reached out to touch the image, which was imprinted in multiples in nearly every ancient site of note on Cybertron. “How do you know of this?”

Of course, the alien didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed to the Matrix of the image, and then up to Optimus’s chest, where the very top of the Matrix was visible through the window so common to Convoys. She then pointed to the figure of Prima, and back up to Optimus.

“You are asking if I am Prima?” It was such an innocent question that Optimus couldn’t suppress a laugh. “No, no little one. That image is far older than I am.”

Whether or not the message got through was unclear. The little being only stood, chattering and twittering both to herself and to him. She also flipped through the book, occasionally pointing out passages as she chattered on. 

“My, you’ve got quite the song, don’t you?” Optimus smiled warmly, though he knew it wasn’t visible beneath his mask. “I wish I knew what you were saying. I’m sure there’s much you’d tell me. I know there’s much I could tell you.”

“Optimus!”

“Yes, Jazz?” Optimus straightened up as he was joined by the transport. “Are we ready to start?”

“Just about,” Jazz returned. “Where to?”

“Old Iacon. I’d like to keep a personal watch on our guests.” Optimus looked down at Song, who had not moved in spite of him standing straight. “Something tells me there’s more than meets the optic to them.”

Chapter Text

Westbay Junk, Westbay, Texas

Bumblebee leaned back on the lawn, his optics glued to the sky. He was resting out on the grass (another amazing discovery) along with Charli and Russel, but in spite of his lack of action, his processor was abuzz as he took everything in. “Your guys’ planet is amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky turn so many colors!”

“You should see a sunset on the beach,” Charli replied. “With the colors and light reflecting off the water, it’s like nothing else.”

Taking a moment to scan the words that were unfamiliar to him and compare them to a quick human internet search, Bumblebee turned in shock. “Wait, you guys have that much water on this planet?!”

“It’s about 70%,” Russel replied. “Don’t you guys have water up on Cybertron?”

“Well, yes, but not to nearly that degree,” he answered. “The rivers and oceans are mostly oil there.”

“Oil?” Both humans questioned at once.

“Yeah, oil.” Bumblebee shrugged. “It’s pretty normal there.”

“I want to talk to a real person, you confounded machine!”

Captain Fanzone’s shout broke through the peace of the evening, announcing that in spite of the multi-hour attempt, they were still reaching the automated line. Getting up and followed close by his companions, Bumblebee peered into the barn.

Prowl and Cosmos had both opted to stay inside for the time being, Prowl likely to join Captain Fanzon in explaining things to the authorities (once they got a connection) and Cosmos to clarify things to Denny. Their host, thankfully, seemed interested enough in what was going on as to allow the newcomers a good amount of time to rest.

“No luck reaching human authorities?” Bumblebee asked, slipping back into Cybertronian so the recipient of his question would be clear.

Prowl shook his head. “It appears there has been disasters in some other areas, and all authorities are busy at the moment.”

“Think they could use a hand?”

“Probably, but they have yet to be clear as to the nature of the problem.”

“Stinkin’ automated services,” Fanzone growled. “Can’t even respond after all those crazy arches…”

“Wait a minute, you guys came through those arches, right?” Denny cut in, his eyes darting between the Autobots. “Do you guys have any idea what’s going on with them?”

“In truth,” Prowl answered, going back into English, “that was what we were investigating when this all went down. Unfortunately, all we discovered was that the bridges have direct links between Earth and Cybertron.”

“And only when active,” Cosmos added. “Kind of our problem at the moment.”

“Wasn’t it on before you came here?” Denny asked. “I mean, you can just fix it up and turn it back on, right? I’d be happy to help out any way I can.”

“While we appreciate the offer, that’s the issue,” Bumblebee replied. “You see, those things are ancient to us as well, and after a war ages ago with the Quintessons, it was assumed they were damaged beyond repair and couldn’t reactivate. When they did, it was as much a mystery to us as to you.”

“Quintessons?”

“Techno-organic alien types,” Cosmos explained.

“They tried to take over Cybertron once, and claimed they made us,” Bumblebee elaborated, “but that’s not important now.”

“Then you don’t have any idea what turned those contraptions on?” Fanzone asked, turning away from the communicator now playing soothing music.

“That’s what we were hoping you guys would know,” Cosmos replied with an awkward shrug.

“And then there’s also the further issues of Barricade and those Vosites,” Prowl added.

“Those other guys from the portal?”

Prowl nodded. “I don’t have enough experience with those three Seekers in specific to say just what they’ll do, but I doubt they’ll be as cooperative with human authorities as we are.”

“You don’t think they’d cause trouble, do you?” Russel asked, settling down next to Prowl.

Prowl closed his optics as he answered. “Barricade, likely no. The Decepticons are barbaric warriors, but Megatron is extremely calculating. Unexpected mayhem isn’t tolerated if it could ruin future plots. Still, he’d likely be dangerous to any humans unfortunate to run into him rather than the other way around. The Vosites, however, are wildcards.”

“There’s a group who actually call themselves Decepticons?” Charli asked, casting a glance up at Bumblebee.

He shrugged. “It has to do with a mythological creature. I never liked that story much.”

“Hello, this is Tasha, can I please get your name and reason for calling?”

Immediately, Fanzone snatched up the phone. “Camine Fanzone here. I need to talk to whatever fed is available right now!”

There was a moment of silence, punctuated by some near inaudible clicks. “Alright, Mr. Fanzone, now what is the nature of your issue?”

“There are alien robots on Earth!” Fanzone’s tone went hard. “We need every-!”

“Now, slow down.” There was more clicking. “What time is it where you are?”

“9:34 PM.”

“And how many alcoholic beverages and/or illegal substances have you consumed?”

The onrush of screaming that suddenly started up could have functioned as a sonic weapon to make Blaster proud.

“Please, Mr. Fanzone, hold your temper.” Tasha’s voice remained at the exact same level, as if she hadn’t just been railed at by verbal abuse. “I’m just trying to take in the facts here.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Denny interjected, apparently quite eager to avoid another tirade. “We’re not too far away from the Rio Grande arches, and they kind of spat out a bunch of alien robots.”

“I see.” More clicking. “And are the robots currently hostile?”

Bumblebee shook his head as fast as he could, though he said nothing. Thankfully, Denny noticed. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright then.” More clicking. “Since this has to do with arches, your message will be passed along. Do note, however, that due to the recent disasters in Valley Springs, Iowa, and Constancy, Oregon, almost all high level agents are currently busy with other tasks.”

Until this point, Charli had been quietly listening, but at the mention of this “Constancy,” something changed in her. “Wait,” she stated, pushing up to the phone. “Where did you say the second disaster was?”

“Constancy, Oregon.”

“And what happened there?”

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to discuss what happened beyond the news reports, ma’am. If you-”

“Please, you need to tell me, is there anything about anyone named Witwicky?” The tone of desperation was clear in Charli’s voice. “It’s important.”

“Like I said, miss,” Tasha repeated, “I’m not at liberty to answer anything that has to do with Constancy. If there is nothing else in relation to your personal situation, I will transfer your call.”

Charli said nothing, but rushed outside as Fanzone and Denny took over the call again. Bee looked over at Prowl and Cosmos, but found both of his companions also more invested in their own current struggle. Silently, Bee slipped out to go see if Charli was alright.

She’d only gone a short way, and was holding a phone to her ear. “Come on, pick up!”

Bee could sense that whoever Charli was trying to reach, the signal wasn’t making it to them. It felt eerily similar to Prowl’s attempt to reach Old Iacon.

“Hey,” he called out, attempting to keep his voice low, though getting the distinct feeling he was failing. “You alright?”

Charli jumped at the call, and he immediately regretted coming out. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll just go back inside.”

“No, no. It’s alright.” Charli paused, looked down at her phone, and sighed. “It's nothing, just thinking of something.”

“That Witwicky person you mentioned?”

“People. My uncle and cousin. They live-lived in Constancy.” She sighed and slumped down. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t spoken to anyone on that side of the family in ages.”

“They’re still yours, or at least familiar.”  Bee sat down next to her. “If you think it might help, I can check if anything’s being spoken about. You’re internet is pretty easy to hook into with my processor.”

At the offer, Charli chuckled. “Thanks, but I can do that, too.” As she spoke, she swept up her phone and started tapping.

“You can?” Bee leaned over, attempting to get a better look at her phone. “With that thing?”

“Yeah.” Charli held up, allowing for a closer look at the screen. “We call it a phone, because that’s what it started out as, but it’s really more of a small computer.”

“Like a datapad.”

“You still use computers? Aren’t you one?”

“I mean, yeah, but you’re one too.” He tapped his head. “You know, up here. Hooks up to a different system.”

Charli placed a hand on her head. “Never thought about it that way.”

She turned back to her phone, and in a moment, her expression fell again. “No news on anything, except that the entire county is under quarantine.” She let her hand drop. “I knew there was an earthquake earlier, even a big one, but I’d never imagined it had something to do with them.”

Not even bothering to wait on a comment, Bumblebee ran the name Witwicky through his own personal internet search just in case. Mostly old records relating to a variety of families from the country of Poland. As they weren’t currently in Poland, but apparently the United States, he limited the search to there, and to Constancy, Oregon. This led to a site that, frankly, took Bumblebee off guard.

“Would your uncle happen to be Stanislaw Witwicky? And he owns an Energon Farm?”

“Energon?”

“It seems you call them ‘energems,’ but it’s what we call Energon.” 

“Yeah, that’s him.” Charli peered up. “Why?”

“There may be something big here.” Bumblebee frowned, and his processor started working overtime. “Was your uncle aware he lived near a Space Bridge?”

“The arches? My cousins and I used to play by it,” Charli answered. She paused, apparently also putting the pieces together. “Wait, you guys came out of one of those, just before the earthquake. You don’t think you had something to do with it, do you?”

“Not us three, directly, but I may have an idea of what was.” Getting up, he rushed back into the barn, followed close by Charli.

“Cosmos,” he commented, slipping back into Cybertronian without realizing he was doing so, “you scanned the territorial setup of Earth when you were in the upper atmosphere, right?”

“That’s right,” Cosmos returned. “Why?”

“If we were in Kaon back on Cybertron, and headed out to this ‘Oregon,’ what city-state would we be in?” Bumblebee asked.

“You know something.” Prowl immediately turned his attention to the Minibots. “What did you find out?”

“Charli mentioned she had family living in the area of Constancy, so I thought I’d look them up to see if I could help,” Bumblebee replied. “What I found out was that Constancy was right next to a Space Bridge, and her family members, the Witwickys? Yeah, they run a large Energon farm, at least for humans. Remember how Bulkhead and Cosmos described the Energon usage of the Bridge in Praxus?”

“Like a farm being drained dry.” Prowl gave a nod. “Good thinking, Bumblebee. Cosmos, do the positions match?”

“Not perfectly,” Cosmos replied, “but just enough that distortion caused by an overload could have caused some misalignment over the transwarp frequency.”

“Which if we put the pieces together, means that this Constancy and Praxus are connected somehow.” Prowl gave a nod before standing up. “We now know where we need to go.”

“Hey, do you mind not getting all worked up in an alien language over there?” 

In their excitement, the three Autobots had completely forgotten the humans present. At the moment, all four were staring up with baffled looks on their faces.

“It seems we may have discovered not only the source of our mysterious travels,” Prowl answered, “but may know the origin of this Constancy, Oregon’s troubles well. We will start the journey immediately.”

“Journey?” Denny repeated.

“Where are you going?” Charli asked, placing a hand on Bumblebee’s leg.

“Constancy,” Bee replied. “It’s urgent. If we’re right, there may either be other Autobots on Earth, or a way back to Cybertron.”

A sudden look of resolve came to Charli’s face. “Then, I’m coming too.”

Prowl shook his head. “Out of the question. We aren’t involving innocents in our troubles.”

“Hey, I’m involved,” Charli returned. “My family is in that town; I have a right to know what happened to them.”

“I can’t accept-”

“She’s got a point,” Bumblebee interrupted. “It is her family. Besides, we’re still strangers here. We need a guide.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Fanzone needed to shout to get noticed. “Who said anything about anyone going anywhere? You’re all staying right here until we can contact the authorities.”

“I mean, we technically will be,” Cosmos pointed out. “That comm-line lady pointed out that the many of the immediate authorities are at Constancy. We’re just going to them instead of waiting for them to come to us.”

“At this point, it would be more expedient to go ourselves,” Prowl agreed, side-eying the phone, which had resumed playing the soothing music. “But we can’t take responsibility for bringing an untrained civilian into the potential line of fire. We already know there are hostile parties here who won’t care that you're a fraction of our size and durability.”

“That’s not your responsibility,” Charli snapped back with a tone suggesting this was an argument she was quite familiar with. “I’m an adult; I can accept the consequences of my own actions.”

Prowl paused, his face completely blank. Bumblebee had been around the tactician long enough to know this was an internal struggle, and something either he or Charli said had gotten through to Prowl.

After a moment’s pause, he gave a huff. “Fine, but only because it’s your family and we need a guide. No one else!”

“But what about us?” Russel called out. He’d been listening so quietly Bee had forgotten he was even there.

Thankfully, Denny intervened before Prowl could start a lecture. “I’m gonna have to agree with Prowl here. Seems like things are kind of crazy over in Oregon, and that’s the last place I want you to be.”

“I’m not a baby, Dad!” Russel protested. “I can take care of myself.”

“It’s still a no,” Denny firmly insisted in a voice that reminded Bee of Optimus. “It’s too dangerous, and I’m not going to risk you.”

“Besides, it isn’t a matter of age,” Prowl added. “Frankly, even Captain Fanzone would have to depend on us if we made a run in with Starscream or Barricade out there. If we weren’t so lost, I would not be accepting Ms. Watson’s help.”

“Ok, fine.” Fanzone rolled his eyes to the sky. “Charli, what’s your number?”

“Here.” She typed it out to show him. “Why?”

“I’m gonna need someone to keep an eye on these guys if they aren’t gonna stay put.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to stop them if something happens.”

“Can any of us?”

“We wouldn’t intentionally do anything harmful,” Cosmos protested. “We’re just trying to get home.”

“They do have a point though,” Prowl conceded. “We will do what we must while providing the least amount of disturbance, but we are strangers who must earn trust. A contact agent is a reasonable compromise.”

“Then it’s settled!” Bee gave a chipper nod. “We’ll move along and reach Constancy ASAP. Shall we be moving?”

“Moving?” Charli asked. “Like, right now?”

“You seemed all for it a moment ago,” Bumblebee pointed out.

“Yeah, but after we sleep.”

“How long do humans require sleep?” Prowl asked.

“Around eight hours every night,” Denny responded, “give or take a couple based on the person.”

“Don’t you guys need sleep?” Russel ventured to ask.

“Not likely for at least 72 Earth hours,” Prowl replied. “Less if we can get a good Energon store. Still, it would be best to leave immediately.”

The humans paused and just looked at each other for a moment. The Clays just shrugged, and Fanzone covered his face with his hands while letting out a groan.

“Well, what the heck.” Charli finally shrugged. “I slept on the bus on the way here.”

Chapter Text

???

“Starscream, just admit it. We’re lost.”

The trio had been flying over this strange planet for hours by the time Thundercracker built up the courage to speak. He had no doubt what the response would be, but they were running low on Energon and would fly themselves into a crash if nothing changed soon. The fact that the sky had turned darker than it ever was on Cybertron wasn’t helping.

“Of course we’re lost,” Starscream snapped. “I never said we weren't.”

“But you said-”

“I said we weren’t stuck, and we aren’t. We just need to find a Space Bridge that’s still on.” Starscream’s tone clearly stated the conversation was over and there’d be no hashing of semantics.

“Crummy world doesn’t seem to have any other Space Bridges,” Skywarp muttered. “Just a lot of metal and that other weird stuff.”

“The natives call it ‘dirt,’ I think.” Thundercracker had gone over a rudimentary scan of the human “internet” to see what could be of benefit until they could return to Cybertron. “Really weird stuff, apparently gets everywhere. Glad we don’t have it.”

“All the more reason to be thankful this planet has a flyable atmosphere,” Starscream muttered. “But I suppose we will need to find an Energon source. Lucky enough, I think I see one now.”

Sure enough, an Energon signature was coming pretty strong off a river of water just below the trio. It cut the river into two halves, with the high part flowing in and the low part flowing out.  Thundercracker couldn’t help but be a little confused about the fluid. Why did this planet have so much of a useless rusting agent? They’d need to be careful to provide protection until they could get back to Cybertron.

The Energon patch proved to be inside a large mineral building alongside the river. Miniature turbines built next to the water only supported the theory, as it somewhat resembled a model Energon farm that might be built along an oil river.

“Should be simple enough to get at,” Skywarp commented, before pulling down. Starscream and Thundercracker followed suit, landing on a large mineral patch near the building.

As they landed, Thundercracker noticed a bunch of apparently lifeless transports lying around. Picking one up in curiosity, he turned it over. 

Almost as soon as he’d picked it up, it started shrieking and squealing. In shock, he practically tossed it back into a bunch of others, who likewise started up a racket.

“What did you do?” Starscream’s pointed question shook Thundercracker out of his shock.

“Nothing!” The lie was obvious, but Thundercracker couldn’t come up with anything else. “I just wanted to look.”

“Next time, don’t touch anything,” Starscream replied with a sigh. Thundercracker wanted to argue, but the squealing behind him acted as proof for the reprimand, so he just swallowed it.

In the meanwhile, Skywarp had gone up to one of the walls. “Energon’s just through here. Just gotta get past this shell. Should be easy enough.” Taking a few steps back, he aimed a small scale armor-piercer and fired.

The shot went through without almost no resistance, before exploding and tearing a hole into the building. As expected, stores of blue and pink Energon stood on shelves near machines that appeared to be harvesting more.

“What did I say?” Skywarp brushed his hands with a smug look before snatching up a cube of blue Energon. “Can I work it or can I work it?”

Starscream followed suit, and scoffed. “Completely unrefined, though I suppose we couldn’t expect any better. It’s amazing these primitive organics have any understanding of Energon farming at all.”

As they ate, the primitives in question started calling attention to themselves. At a closer glance, a handful must’ve been too close to the explosion, and were now lying flat with some red fluid that held a blue shimmer flowing out from where they lay. New arrivals soon began swarming around these and chattering up a storm in their high-pitched voices. Some of them started letting out squeals of their own as soon as they caught sight of the Seekers and rushed away.

“Annoying little critters, aren’t they?” Skywarp picked one up and brought it to his face. “Yuck! Don’t even have the sense to use any armor.” He tossed the creature to one side, sending it flying into the river on the low side.

“I dunno, they’re kind of different, but not in a bad way.” Thundercracker peered down at the fleeing creatures. “I mean, nothing on this planet is as good as Cybertron yet they got this far. I’d think it’d be interesting to see how far they can go.”

Skywarp just rolled his optics. “At least they’re good for Energon production.”

At that point, a number of other creatures raced out. These seem to be wearing armor (though only by technicality in Thundercacker’s opinion), and wielding primitive looking blasters.

“Looks like they’re getting aggressive,” Starscream commented as he took a few smaller bits of Energon. “Doesn’t really matter; I was finished anyway. Let’s get going.”

Skywarp sniggered. “Nah, this could be fun. Let’s see what they can do!”

As the creatures were getting into a basic attack formation, Thundercracker got a bad feeling about things. “Don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“We don’t have the time anyway.” Starscream transformed and took off flying. “We need to keep up our search.” Thundercracker wordlessly agreed and followed suit.

Almost immediately after, Skywarp let out a yelp and several curses before transforming. “Stupid things stung me!”

“Tried to warn you,” Thundercracker sighed.

“I’ll show them.” Spinning around, Skywarp took a dive over the building and unleashed a series of shrapnel-burst bombs.

The creatures began screaming as the bursts went off, and Thundercracker couldn’t help but feel a bit bad. Not enough to go back, but still. “Did you really need to do that?”

“They stung me!” Skywarp whined. “They deserved it!”

“Shut up, both of you! I found something.” Starscream sent over the coordinates to his brothers. “It looks like there’s a remote Bridge here; let’s see if we can’t get this working.” He dashed ahead, followed close by his brothers as they left the wreckage in their wake.

Artificial Catacombs, Earth

Admittedly, becoming stranded on this “Earth” hadn’t been in the plan, but Onslaught could make it work. He’d done more with less before, after all.

That morning, he observed several monitors listing off the news stations these “humans” used to keep each other up to date. Normally, this would just be for the purpose of researching any new plans, but it appeared the past day had been an eventful time.

“We’re on scene here on I-5, where an Oregon National Guard convoy traveling from Constancy exploded. Of the sixteen troopers present, nine were killed by the blast and seven left in critical condition.”

...

“As you can see in this video, posted on TikTok by a concerned individual, the robot appeared out of the arch flying at high speeds and crashed into the park nearby. It was followed soon after by at least six others.Thankfully, no one was injured, but a prompt evacuation of the area commenced as police were called in.”

...

“Of course, Mr. Powell has called in an investigation on what exactly caused the devastation at the Kyrie Energem Refinery and Dam, as well as sworn to increase security measures in other similar posts, as to avoid future tragedies.”

“It appears we aren’t the only ones to make it to this world.” Keeping his optics on the screen, Onslaught took notes of who had come through. “Autobot, Decepticon, Vosite,” he mumbled to himself as he noted the information down. “At least from the one site. Need to do more research into the others. Along with the Insecticons, that’s four separate groups present, not including ourselves.” He frowned. “Autobots are useless; never been good customers. The others are worth reaching out to. With Vosites help, I can even use large portions of the original plan unchanged.”

He then cast a glance at the last screen, which featured a short human with a dark wire-helm ranting about increased security measures. A thought popped into his head, which was followed closely by a knowing smirk.

“Swindle,” he called out, tapping on his comm link, “did you succeed at getting those Trojan programming files through before the Space Bridge shut down?”

“Always make sure to have a few on me, just in case,” came the response. “I’m guessing you’ve found a potential customer in need of enhanced protections?”

“And more than emotionally compromised to take it.” Onslaught ran through several files on this Porter C. Powell. Amoral businessman of the highest level for this world, and a real sap from the looks of things. Also had connections to other high ranking humans as well who'd likely be frightened enough by recent events to be looking for a "savior." Swindle would play them like a Symphonic Voline. “Sending you the information now. You know what to do.”

There was a pause as Swindle must have been going over the information. “Oh, this one’s gonna be fun.”