Part Eight: Collision

Sprocket tapped his foot impatiently.

"Is this really necessary, Freewheeler? It's not as if you don't know me..."

The easygoing Micromaster looked up from the security console where he'd propped his feet. "You know the regs," he said. "Anyone coming or going from an Autobase has to be scanned."

Sprocket crossed his arms. "Oh, hang the regs! You see me every day! Do you really think I'm going to smuggle in a plasma bomb or something?"

Freewheeler shrugged. "You know how it is...gotta impress the new boss, right?"

"Nnnn." Sprocket's optic band narrowed. "I wouldn't get too attached to him. He won't be here very long."

"You think Whirl's coming back?" The Micromaster shook his head. "I dunno...if it was just a temporary thing, you really think they'd send someone like Trailbreaker out here to replace him? The guy's pretty important these days."

Sprocket shrugged. "Who knows what Prowl's thinking? Optimus or Xaaron wouldn't have sent out a top advisor on a temporary assignment like this...but they never would've pulled anything this low to begin with."

"Nah, you got that right. They'd-" Freewheeler jumped back in surprise, his optics focused on something behind Sprocket's left shoulder. "Sweet zombie Primus!"

Sprocket's hand unconsciously crept towards the butt of the photon blaster magno-clamped to his hip as he spun. He started to draw, but thought better of it when he found himself face-to-face with a pair of rifle-toting Transformers. He recognized them, vaguely, as two of the locals who performed maintenance on the base premises. "Why the Pit are a pair of janitors pointing guns at me?" he asked derisively.

One of the armed mechs started to bring his rifle up into firing position, but Sprocket was faster. He drew his blaster, shot from the hip and blew the ersatz janitor's head off. He couldn't refocus and take aim at the other enemy in time, though; a laser blast hit him hard in the chest just as he was swinging his sidearm around. Sprocket took a few steps back before another blast cut his legs out from under him.

As he hit the ground he saw Freewheeler lunge for the alarm panel, but the Micromaster never had a chance. A flurry of energy beams cut through not only the small Autobot, but the alarm panel itself and most of the other computer equipment in Autobase Protihex's main entryway.

The alarm started to blare anyway.

Assuming I don't leak to death, Sprocket thought, I've got to thank Mainframe for installing those acoustic gunfire sensors...

Crosshairs never thought he could have too much peace and quiet.

During the dozens of vorns he'd spent fighting the Decepticons, first on Cybertron, later on Nebulos and finally Earth, the Autobot had always longed for the calm, slow-paced life that he'd once led. Now, with the old war over and a new one beginning, he'd found himself installed as chief armoury officer for the entire Autobot army. He spent almost all of his time behind a desk or at a work bench, designing and building new weapons and equipment, the very life he'd once longed for.

He couldn't have been more bored if he tried.

The Targetmaster wasn't sure why; perhaps all the time he'd spent on the battlefield had given him a taste for the excitement of it all. But a big part of him missed being in the field, so much so that he'd signed on for Ultra Magnus' recent mission to Earth. He'd only agreed to stay behind at the last minute because Prowl simply couldn't find anyone good enough to replace him in Iacon's armoury. The only Autobot qualified for the job had been Wheeljack, but Crosshairs was leery of the idea of letting that mad scientist play around with a room full of things that could explode. So he was stuck here, for better or for worse.

Hearing the distinctive sound of the armoury's automatic doors sliding open, Crosshairs looked up. He found himself looking at an unfamiliar mech with an Autobot sigil on his breastplate. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," the other Autobot said. "Is this the armoury?"

"Last I checked."

"Good." Without warning, the strange Transformer drew his sidearm and shot Crosshairs in the chest.

Counterpunch sat with his legs crossed on the floor of Mindwipe's cave, a sour expression on his face. "Is all of this really necessary? I mean, couldn't you just...look into my optics, or something?"

"If I vanted to control your mind, yes," Mindwipe said. "But vat you are asking is a very different thing. It takes a great deal of preparation to do right. One mistake, no matter how small, and I might erase your mind completely." The bizarre Headmaster crossed his arms. "Now get back to your meditations! You must be properly centered before ve begin the hypnosis."

Counterpunch shrugged. "Well, you're the mystic after all..."

Hound was walking down the Steelhaven's corridors towards the bridge when the sound of gunfire floated down the halls towards him. Moments later, the ship's general alert klaxon started to wail. Hearing the bridge doors slide open, the scout pressed his body flat against the bulkhead and used his hologram gun to cover himself with an image of bare wall.

Milliseconds after he disappeared, Hound saw Downshift stalk out of the bridge. The security officer was unhurt, but the expression on his face made clear that he was troubled by something. Hound almost unshrouded himself right then and there to ask what was wrong, but the purposeful gleam in Downshift's optics made him think better of it. A quick glimpse of the scene on the other side of the bridge door told him that he'd made the right choice. Hubcap, Peacemaker and Pointblank were lying on the deck, either dead or close to it.

Murderer, Hound thought darkly.

Although it tore at the scout's spark to leave his downed comrades, he knew that letting Downshift wander the halls unchecked would wind up being the worse choice in the long run. With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the bridge and started to stalk the security officer.

"Look, I'm not saying you're ugly or anything, but you were obviously last in line when Primus handed out alternate modes."

"At least I'm known for more than being 'that blue guy who looks like Searchlight'," Grotusque replied gamely.

Freeway's only response was an irritated snort.

"Oooh. I think that one touched a nerve, Tusker," Crossblades chucked as he sipped on his energon brew.

"Oh, don't you start," Freeway said. "At least I don't spend most of my time looking like a giant human."

"Touché," Crossblades, who at this moment actually wasn't wearing his Pretender shell, said mock-seriously. "But not meaning all that much coming from a guy who got turned into a toy car once..."

Freeway shook his head in disgust. "I don't know why I hang out with you guys..."

Grotusque was about to toss off a snappy comeback, but before he could the doors to the mess hall literally blew open. The force of the explosion knocked half the patrons, including Grotusque's group, out of their seats.

"What the Pit?" Crossblades was the first to scramble to his feet, grumbling furiously as he did so. Because he was the first on his feet, he was the first to see the armed gunman storm into the room, particle beam rifles blazing away. A half-dozen diners were cut down in the first few seconds of the attack. The Pretender ducked to avoid the incoming fire. "Unicron slag!"

Transforming to dragster mode, Crossblades roared towards the shooter at full speed. Once he was close enough, he switched back to robot mode and punched the murderous Transformer in the face. The shooter retaliated by thumping Crossblades in the chin with the butt of one of his rifles, then taking a step back and firing a barrage into the Autobot at point-blank range.

By now Grotusque was on his feet. Transforming to beast mode, the Monsterbot lunged through the air at the gunman. Flames spewed out of his fanged mouth and the shooter recoiled, shielding his face. Grotusque landed on him, clamped his jaws down on the other Transformer's neck and ripped his head clean off his shoulders.

"And to think you made fun of my beast mode..."

When Freeway's usual indignant reply wasn't forthcoming, Grotusque knew something was seriously wrong. Transforming to robot mode, he cast a glance across the room. At least a dozen other Autobots were lying dead, but the Monsterbot knew that wouldn't be enough to silence his sparring partner.

Then he saw Crossblades.

The Pretender was lying on the ground. He had half a dozen holes blown in his chest, his optic band dark. Freeway sat at his side, cradling his head in his hands.

"Damn," Grotusque said softly. For the first time in ages, he was at a loss for words. Instead of trying to find something to say, he walked over to Freeway and gently rested a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Damn," he said again.

Barrage had never been particularly fond of Ransack.

The two Decepticons certainly had a lot in common. They were both members of the secondary, 'deluxe' unit of Insecticons, the only two still alive after Venom and Chop Shop had run off with Carnivac a few years ago. They were both effective gunslingers, too, although Barrage knew that he was the better of the two. Most notoriously, they were both renowned for the massive amounts of collateral damage they caused when they were deployed to the battlefield. But there was one big difference between the two of them: whereas Ransack was a brutish thug who couldn't be bothered to avoid shooting non-combatants or the landscape, Barrage was an intelligent, cruel Decepticon who used collateral damage to crush his enemy's spirit. He always found himself lumped in alongside Ransack in the 'thug' category by his fellow Decepticons, though, and he'd resented his partner for it for as long as he could remember. More than once, he'd fantasized about being rid of him entirely.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd see Ransack cut down in his tracks by a sniper in the middle of Polyhex, though.

Barrage was so delighted by the sight of Ransack's carcass falling to the ground that he almost forgot to leap for cover. The sniper's next shot left a blackened furrow across the Insecticon's right forearm as he dove behind a trash receptacle.

As much as my natural instinct is to shake the guy's hand, I suppose I'd better do something about this...

Several more blasts rang out, cutting down another pair of pedestrians. Barrage watched closely, carefully observing which rooftop the sniper's explosive rounds were coming from.

Gotcha.

Transforming to his tiny insect mode, Barrage fluttered unseen towards the enemy gunman. For the first time, he truly appreciated the advantages that his minuscule insectoid alternate form gave him.

And to think I laughed in Venom's face when he suggested it...

Arriving at the rooftop in question, Barrage took a moment to float around and observe his foe. The sniper looked for all the world like one of the empties that occupied Polyhex's Dead End district, but the professional way he handled his well-maintained sniper rifle belied his appearance.

Who cares who he is? That's for the forensic team to figure out!

Transforming to robot mode, Barrage drew his sonic machine gun and shot the sniper in the face. The blast of concentrated sound didn't cause much physical damage, but it was more than enough to blow out the enemy's audio sensors. Dropping his weapon, the sniper recoiled in agony. Taking advantage of his enemy's pain, the Insecticon stepped close, pulled his energo-blade and stabbed the assassin a half-dozen times in the chest. The sniper collapsed to the ground, his vital fluids quickly draining away.

Barrage watched him die, grim amusement in his optics.

Springer let out a soft groan as his brain module came back online.

The last thing the Wrecker leader remembered was sinking to the bottom of Pequod's mercury sea, a Cybertronian fighter strafing the surface above him. The mercury had started to seep through his damaged armour and shorted out his systems.

But obviously I survived. Normally that would be a cause for celebration, but Springer fully expected to see an Imperial jail cell around him when his optics reactivated.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

As the world swam into focus around him, Springer found himself looking up at Skids' smiling face. "Finally decided to come back to us, did you?"

"Huh..." Springer shook his head and tried to sit up. "Wha...how'd I...?"

"Whirl pulled you out of the ocean," Skids told him. The theoretician pushed Springer back down with ease, a fact that convinced the Wrecker leader that maybe he shouldn't be jumping up just yet.

"Whirl?" Springer shook his head. "Never would've expected that."

"Don't say that. He might be mad at you right now, but he's still your friend. He'll remember that before too long." Skids shrugged. "He's out there right now with the rest of the team. They're trying to find some way to take down that giant Decepticon."

"Uhhn." Springer scowled as the memory of the Cybertronians' giant transforming warship came back to mind. "Any other...any other casualties?"

"Longtooth, of course. But you knew that already." Skids' voice had taken on a distant tone. "Splashdown's gone. No one saw him go down, but he didn't retreat with the others and he's not answering any hails. Skullcruncher got banged up pretty badly, too, but he refuses to stand down. And we still haven't heard a word from the Seacons."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" This time Springer managed to sit up straight. After working his limbs for a few seconds, he clambered to his feet. "Come on."

Skids frowned. "Where?"

"Where do you think?"

"This might not have been the best idea after all..."

Rage scowled, slammed back a shot of some vile brew, then turned to Gutcruncher. "Your insight is astounding," he said, his words ever-so-slightly slurred. "Have they penetrated the main compound yet?"

"No, sir. Not yet." The executive officer of Imperial forces on Cheyne glanced down at his datapad. "Banzai-Tron and Double Punch are holding them back, but they've suffered significant losses. I don't think we'll be able to keep them out for much longer unless we send B Company out to reinforce them."

Rage shook his head at the suggestion. "That would be a waste. The current strategy isn't working."

"Then what should we do?" Gutcruncher turned on his commander, irritation showing on his face. "Sir, if we don't reinforce the lines, the enemy will penetrate the compound."

"Then let them." Rage reached out for his bottle. He seemed to consider it for a moment, then spun and threw it against the wall of the command bunker as hard as he could manage. It exploded, spraying the room with a low-quality petrochemical slurry.

"Sir?"

"Let them penetrate," Rage said again. "Let them come. If the troops can't manage to stop them, then I'll kill them myself."

Gutcruncher took a step back, nervous. "Aye, sir," he said before beating a hasty retreat.

Sixshot frowned down at the datapad in his hands. "They've reorganized their outpost positions again," he said.

"That's the fourth time today," Trypticon noted.

"Indeed." Sixshot downloaded the outpost map to his own datatracks, then deactivated the satellite uplink and closed the datapad. "The question we have to ask is why."

"Who cares?" Trypticon straightened to his full height. "They haven't been able to stop us yet. Moving around a bit won't make it our job any harder."

"I care," Sixshot told him as he field-stripped one of his concussion blasters and carefully cleaned the projector lenses. "I care because they aren't doing it at random. I think they're trying to lead us somewhere...and get us there at a certain time. The pattern is very subtle. Almost elegant. But it's there."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"I suggest we do nothing," Sixshot said, putting his rifle back together with professional ease. "You continue to do whatever you'd do naturally. Make the enemy think we're following their game plan."

"While you head straight to wherever they're trying to lead us and get there ahead of schedule?" Trypticon nodded his massive saurian head in approval. "You'll miss out on a lot of fun, but suit yourself."

"I will." Sixshot started to examine the hilt projector of his nanosword. "Pz-Zazz will be ours within the day. I'll call you when I've finished." Subspacing all of his weaponry, the hexchanger transformed to starfighter mode and blasted off without another word.

Chromedome shook his head in disgust. "There's just nothing to find," he told Grapple. "I like a challenge as much as the next mech, but let's face it. Hubcap's got us on a wild turbofox chase."

"I hate to say it," Grapple replied, "but I think you're right. This mystery of his is beyond even my eminent abilities. If only we could talk to Downshift..."

"Talk to me about what?"

Chromedome nearly jumped out of his chair at the security officer's voice. "I...uh, we, that's to say..." Inside his head, he could feel Stylor blushing. "Sorry, chief. Didn't see you back there."

"No. You wouldn't, would you?" Downshift peered over the Headmaster's shoulder. "Ah. Working on finding our spy, are you?"

"I guess you could say that."

"You can stop looking," Downshift said frigidly.

"Uh..." Chromedome didn't like the sound of the security agent's voice. "Why...why is that?"

"Because you're talking to him."

"Uh..." Chromedome's processors had to take a second to absorb that. "You mean you?"

Grapple's optics narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because everyone deserves to know what they're dying for," Downshift told them.

For the second time in as many breems, Hound heard the sound of laser fire echoing down the hall.

Dammit!

His anger getting the better of him, Hound let his holoshroud dissipate and dashed towards the engine room at a dead run. As soon as he cleared the doors, he scanned the room for threats. Downshift was nowhere to be seen, but he had no trouble finding Chromedome and Grapple. Earthforce's technical duo were lying prone on the deck, their heads split open by point-blank laser blasts. Hound started towards his fallen comrades, but hadn't made it two steps before a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Don't bother."

"Downshift?" The scout's voice was sad. "Why? Why would you do something like this?"

"Because it's what I was built for," the security agent told him. "And for what it's worth, I wish it hadn't come to this. You, I actually liked. But I can't let you interfere."

Laser fire echoed in the halls for the third time, but this time there was no one to hear it.

Streetwise led the rest of Steelhaven's crew onto the bridge, his photon pistol at the ready. He swept his gaze across the room, leading with his gun the entire way. When he was satisfied that there weren't any hostiles lurking behind the consoles, he waved the rest of the team forward. The medics rushed past him immediately, First Aid going to Pointblank's side and Ratchet dropping to one knee beside Hubcap. No one bothered to check on Peacemaker; it was obvious even to the security officer's untrained optics that the Nebulan was already dead.

"The captain's dead," First Aid reported with a sad shake of his head. "What about Hubcap?"

"He'll live," Ratchet said, "but it's a near thing. I've got to get him to medbay ASAP."

Overdrive walked over to one of the bridge consoles, punched a few buttons, then frowned. He moved over to another terminal and did the same thing. "The bridge consoles are locked out," he said. "It looks like someone's rerouted the controls to engineering."

"Then that's the first place we should look for our mystery gunman," Streetwise said. Turning to Skydive, he asked, "What do you want us to do?"

"Me?" The Aerialbot strategist looked surprised.

"You're the ranking line officer now," Streetwise told him. Both Autobots couldn't help but glance at the fallen Pointblank.

"Just what I always wanted," Skydive grumbled, "a disaster of my very own..." He rubbed his optics with his left hand. "OK, here's what we'll do. Ratchet, you get Hubcap down to medbay. Tracks, go with him. If you see any of our crewmates along the way, anyone who isn't in the room with us right now, shoot first and ask questions later. I'd rather you blind an innocent for a few minutes than let our traitor get a free shot in."

"Got it," Tracks said, hefting his black beam gun. "You can count on me."

"Good." The Aerialbot straightened his posture ever-so-slightly. "The rest of us are heading down to engineering. Streetwise, lead the way."

The security officer nodded, raised his weapon, and headed back out into the hall. As he passed Skydive, he whispered, "Don't worry. You're doing fine."

Ricochet sidled up to the generator room door, listening carefully. Beside him, Roadhandler and Autofire did the same. The rapid-fire assault specialist fingered his blaze cannon eagerly.

"I...I'm not doing anything for you," a frightened voice filtered out into the hall. The gunslinger recognized it as Mainframe, the Protihex garrison's chief engineer.

"I'll kill you!" a crazed voice shouted.

"I'll die anyway if I give you access to the generators," Mainframe said shakily. "We all will!"

"You first." A gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of a metal body hitting the floor.

"Oh, that is it!" Ricochet pushed towards the door. "To the Pit with Trailbreaker's orders, anyway. The coward-"

"Is standing right behind you," for once, the new base commander's voice lacked any trace of amusement. Ricochet glanced back to see Trailbreaker standing there, arms crossed.

"Well, sir, I think it's high time we take down that loon."

"You're quite right," Trailbreaker agreed, ignoring the contempt in the trooper's voice. "You and Autofire stay by the door. Roadhandler and I will flush him out. When we do, you two cut him down."

Ricochet reluctantly accepted his assignment, dropped to one knee just inside the doorway and waited for his quarry to show itself. He watched as Trailbreaker and Roadhandler moved into the maze of equipment that filled the generator room. The gunner paid closest attention to the Micromaster, figuring that he had a better chance of sneaking up on an enemy infiltrator than a bulky bureaucrat. It just so happened that he was still watching Roadhandler when a barrage of laser bolts tore the small Autobot in half.

"Nnnn." Ricochet returned fire, sending several blasts of intense heat in the direction he thought the enemy fire had come from.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you..." The enemy's voice was cold, taunting.

Trailbreaker must have caught sight of him, because the base commander suddenly stopped short and started backing off. "Hold fire!" he ordered.

Ricochet almost gave in to the urge to gun down his new commander where he stood, but managed to restrain himself.

The enemy showed himself a few seconds later. At first it seemed like he was unarmed, but once he'd moved out of the thickest shadows Ricochet saw that he was carrying something in his right hand.

A proton grenade, he realized. With the pin already pulled. If that goes off in here we'll all be dead.

Trailbreaker seemed to be thinking the same thought, because he cast a glance back toward the doorway. "Run!" he ordered the duo of gunners.

Before Ricochet could laugh in his face, the defensive strategist charged forward. The enemy infiltrator froze with panic for a vital few milliseconds, long enough for Trailbreaker to wrap him in a tackle and drag him to the ground. The grenade fell from the intruder's grasp and for a moment Ricochet was sure he was about to die.

Then Trailbreaker's force field flared to life.

The field managed to contain the brunt of the explosion, but the light from the detonation was so intense that Ricochet had to avert his optics. When his vision finally cleared, all that remained of Trailbreaker and his foe was a pile of slate-grey ash.

When Crosshairs came to, he could hear someone rooting around in the back of the armoury. The Targetmaster reached out, got a grip on the edge of his desk, and somehow managed to haul himself to his feet. Grabbing a laser rifle from a weapon rack as he passed, he stumbled toward the sounds he heard.

"What the Pit do you think you're doing?" he demanded of the mech who'd shot him.

The unfamiliar Transformer turned to face him, surprise evident on his face and a fusion bomb cradled in both hands. "You should be dead."

"I'm tough," Crosshairs said dryly. "Put down the bomb or I'll kill you where you stand."

"Hardly," the other Transformer said. "You can't even hold your rifle steady. We're standing in a room filled with ammunition and explosives. If you shoot, you'll miss by a mile, hit a case of ammo and blow up the entire building. They'll be picking up pieces of you in Altihex."

"And if I let you walk out of here with a nuclear weapon?" Crosshairs shook his head and tried to ignore the weakness he felt creeping up his legs. "I'll take the risk, thank you. Now put down the bomb."

"Not a chance."

"Have it your way." Crosshairs squeezed the trigger. A single laser beam leaped across the room and struck the intruder square in his left optic. The fusion bomb fell to the ground as the dead Decepticon crumbled. Crosshairs had just enough strength left to hit the armoury's emergency beacon before he did the same.

"This is...interesting."

Counterpunch resisted the urge to flinch at Mindwipe's grating voice. Instead, he continued to gaze steadily forward into the Headmaster's optics. "What is?"

"You have many...highly powerful mental blocks in place. Most of them seem to center around the time you spent in that Autobot prison."

"Can you break through them?"

"Not vithout using enough force to shatter your mind entirely, no." Mindwipe's tone was strained. "But I might be able to get around them some other vay. Be patient."

Counterpunch waited with quickly-declining tolerance as the mystic did his work, humming and hawing as he did so. Just as he was reaching a breaking point, Mindwipe spoke up again. "Ah, yes...here ve go. Just a bit farther and ve can — argh!"

Counterpunch was jolted by the Headmaster's shriek, and even more so when he saw the mystic lying on his back in a daze. Getting up, he moved to his fellow Decepticon's side. "What's wrong?"

"You...you threw me from your mind. Rather violently, I might add." Mindwipe seemed to gather his wits about him again. "I take it you didn't do it on purpose?"

"I wouldn't know how," Counterpunch said truthfully.

"Then your problems run much deeper than ve first thought," the mystic told him. "A significant number of your memory sectors have...gone dark, for lack of a better vord. I vas trying to examine one of them when I vas...evicted."

"These 'dark' sectors...do you think they might be related to the blackouts I've been suffering?"

"I do," Mindwipe said. "But I can't be sure. Not vithout doing a much deeper scan. And I must varn you...if I force my way into those sectors it may cause serious mental damage."

"Do it," Counterpunch said.

"Are you sure?" Mindwipe was obviously reluctant. "Perhaps you-"

"Do it."

This too easy, Grimlock thought to himself as he watched the Cybertronians falling back yet again. We almost to middle of camp, and only ones putting up a fight are Scorponok look-alike and Bludgeon wannabe.

"This too easy," he repeated aloud.

"Of course it is," an unfamiliar voice replied from above him.

Grimlock looked up and caught sight of a large black and red Transformer standing atop a tall pile of rubble. "Who you?"

"They call me Rage," the Cybertronian said. "I'll be your executioner today." Rage leaped forward, clear of the rubble pile. He landed on his feet a handful of paces from Grimlock, transformed into vehicle mode and accelerated towards the Dinobot leader. The Decepticon slammed into Grimlock's shins, throwing him high into the air.

As he landed roughly on the ground, Grimlock heard the enemy shouting, "All units, attack!" Before he had a chance to recover, Grimlock caught sight of a fresh wave of enemies charging over the heaps of rubble that filled the city streets. "This more like it," he said as he drew his energo-sword and started slicing into the enemy horde.

Finding the battle had been even easier than Springer had expected. Tidal Wave had left a trail of carnage a half-mile wide from where he'd come ashore that even the least-experienced warriors in the Autobot army would have been able to follow without too much trouble.

The Wrecker leader had expected to find his team fully engaged with the enemy, but they were nowhere in sight as he and Skids roared up behind the titan. "Where are they?"

"One minute." Skids drove around in a wide circle, taking in the scene around them. Finally he said, "78% probability that they've taken cover in the relatively undamaged sports arena two hundred metres south of us."

"Let's investigate," Springer said dryly. The two of them headed in the direction that Skids had indicated, arriving in less than two minutes. Transforming to robot mode, Springer held up his hand. "You stay here. I'll check it out."

Ducking his head to pass through the open-air stadium's vehicle entrance, Springer was taken by surprise. Grabbed roughly from the side, he was thrown roughly to the ground, unable to put up much of a fight in his injured state.

"Oh!" Even with his face buried in the turf, Springer recognized Hot Rod's voice. "Hi, boss. Sorry 'bout that."

"Forget about it," Springer said, dusting himself off. "Skids, get in here!"

Taking a more careful look at the young cavalier, Springer realized he was more than a little worse for wear. "What's the team's status?"

"Look for yourself," Hot Rod told him. Stepping aside, he gestured towards the stadium's playing field.

Stepping past him, Springer felt his spark fall. Almost the entire team had taken serious damage. Skullcruncher was missing the better part of his right arm. Broadside and Doubleheader were covered from head to toe with carbon scoring. Squeezeplay and Carnivac were even more dented and dinged than Hot Rod. The only members of the strike force who looked undamaged were Pincher, who was busily performing field repairs on Submarauder's leg, and Whirl, who was heading towards him right now.

The Triplechanger cleared his vocal processors, then started to talk. "Whirl, I-"

"Save it," the other Wrecker said curtly. "We have more important things to worry about."

"Fine." Springer's expression turned sour. "Did Tidal Wave do this to my men?"

"Assuming 'Tidal Wave' is the giant Imperial death machine, that's a no." Whirl shook his head ruefully. "His escort did most of this. The only one who got close enough to engage the super warrior was Submarauder, and that didn't turn out so well."

Springer took a closer look at the Decepticon Pretender. Originally he'd thought that Pincher had been repairing exostructure damage, but now he could see that the Autobot was actually cutting away chunks of metal from the other Transformer's hide. "What happened to him?"

"Tidal Wave shot him with a maser cannon," Whirl told him. "Cooked the flesh off his Pretender shell and fused the frame to his body."

Springer winced sympathetically. "We're going to take the fight to the Cybertronians ASAP. Will he be up to coming along?"

"You'd have to weld me to the building to stop me," Submarauder snapped. The normally-scholarly Decepticon's voice was furious. Springer glanced quizzically over at Whirl, but the other Autobot just shrugged.

"That's that, then." Springer swept his gaze across the entire group of wounded Transformers. "The bottom line is this: we've got to stop Tidal Wave. The damage he's already caused is staggering, and if we let him continue it'll only get worse. It won't be easy, though. A lot of us probably won't be coming back. Any ideas you might have, no matter how crazy...speak up."

"I've got one," Squeezeplay piped up. He turned to look at Broadside. "You fly above the guy, then transform to aircraft carrier mode and drop down on him."

Broadside seemed to be at a loss for words. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard," he said at last.

"You got anything better?"

Broadside only shrugged.

"I didn't think so," Squeezeplay said smugly.

"I've got something," Hot Rod said softly. The expression on his face wasn't a happy one. "I've got to warn you, though...even I think it's crazy."

Springer raised an optic ridge at that. This is going to be good... "Out with it, kid."

"Alright," Hot Rod said. The young Autobot dropped down to a sitting position before he started. "Here's what I'm thinking..."

Skydive gripped the handle of his sidearm tightly as he followed Streetwise into the engine room. He swept the barrel of his nega-gun around in an adequate imitation of the security officer's own movements, keeping his back to the wall to avoid getting jumped. He didn't relax until the security officer gave the 'all clear' signal and lowered his own weapon. Stepping gingerly past the three Autobots laid out on the floor, the Aerialbot moved deeper into the room. First Aid followed and dropped down beside the three injured crewmen, but his expression was grim.

Hound. Grapple. Chromedome. The only one left unaccounted for is Downshift. Dammit.

"Overdrive," Skydive called, "find out what our friend's been doing down here."

"You got it," the Omnibot said. For once he managed to refrain from snide remarks or arrogant comments; he'd probably come to the same conclusion Skydive had about the traitor's identity. Sitting at the main engineering situation board, he started to call up a sequence of status reports. "Not good," he said at last. "He's locked out the controls using security override codes and set the generators to overload."

"Of course he did," Skydive grumbled. "Our day just wouldn't be complete without getting blown up, would it?"

"What's that?" Overdrive asked.

"Never mind," Skydive shook his head. "Can you stop it?"

"Uh...maybe." The Omnibot shrugged. "I'm a strategist, after all, not an engineer. But with the Doc's help I might be able to manage something."

"Do it," Skydive told him. "Streetwise and I will be down in the shuttlebay."

"What's down there?" Overdrive asked.

"Unless I miss my guess, that's where we'll find our friend Downshift," Skydive said as he sprinted out the door.

Crouching behind a tall hedge in wolf mode, Sixshot watched as Cybertronian troopers came and went from the enemy bunker. This location, close to the rear of the column of Imperial forces that were besieging Pz-Zazz's capital city, was one of the few locations that hadn't been redeployed at least once during the recent string of random troop movements. After only a few minutes of observation, it was fairly clear why.

It's their command centre, he decided.

Not far from the bunker was a second reason they hadn't moved. A team of construction units were swarming like Insecticons around a large half-constructed platform that housed what appeared to be a combination weapons emplacement and sensor array.

If I'd come here two days later, that thing might well have been operational. It would have made my job that much more difficult. The hexchanger's wolfish visage showed it's fangs in a predatory smile. Thankfully, that won't be a concern now.

The lupine warrior loped uncaringly from behind his protective cover. He was seen almost immediately, a hue and cry going up as Cybertronian troops headed in his direction. Fools.

Leaping into the air, Sixshot deployed his wings and glided over top of the onrushing enemies. Once he'd gotten in range of the half-built weapons array, his body folded up into his seldom-used space cannon mode. The sight of a giant flying gun seemed to send many of his foes quailing, but he gave them no mind. One Cybertronian, apparently the one in charge of construction, tried to rally them to attack, but to no avail. Feeling his internal capacitors building to a critical charge, Sixshot fired a sustained volley of energy blasts into the enemy structure. He didn't stop firing until the building toppled over, crushing a good number of Imperial troops in the process.

Now for Act II...

Transforming to robot mode, the Sixchanger dropped down directly atop the enemy command bunker. He could have blasted it to pieces as easily as he had the weapons array, but Sixshot wanted to meet the enemy commander face-to-face.

Drawing the hilt projector of his blade out of subspace, the Decepticon quickly pressed a depressed button set into the crossguard. A blade immediately began to sprout from the hilt, glowing a faint purple as it extended to its maximum length. Many people had referred to the blade as a 'lightsabre', and for the most part Sixshot hadn't bothered to correct them. But in truth it was something completely different. The blade itself was made not from shaped energy but from nanites, dynamically forging themselves into a monomolecular-edged blade on command when the sword was activated.

Not that it matters overmuch either way. What's important is that it gets the job done.

With three quick, efficient slashes Sixshot carved out a triangular section of the bunker's roof. The chunk of fusion-formed metal fell down into the building with a resounding clunk. Sixshot followed it, leaping down with his nanosword held at the ready.

Counterpunch felt like someone was trying to open up his cranium with a circular saw, but he didn't so much as flinch when Mindwipe pushed his way back into his mind. When the mystic started to poke around at the inaccessible sectors in his memory, the spy felt like he was undergoing the mental equivalent of being stripped down to the frame and inspected for contraband, but he managed to hold his protests even then.

"Gaah!"

For a few seconds, Counterpunch wasn't sure which of them had screamed. But as his optics slowly swam back into focus, he caught sight of Mindwipe cringing in the corner and decided that the Headmaster must have been responsible.

"What's wrong? Did I...did I throw you out of my mind again?"

"No." Mindwipe's voice was low, throaty, terrified. "No. This is vorse. Much, much vorse."

"What? What is it?" Counterpunch's voice was tinged with desperation.

"No...no, I can't," Mindwipe said. "No. You'll...you'll kill me."

"Speak, damn you!" The spy's hands balled up into fists.

"No...I can't. The Autobots..." Mindwipe's voice trailed off. "No. I can't."

"Autobots? Good. We're getting closer. You might as well tell me the rest," the Counterpunch said coldly. "If I'm going to kill you, you're already dead."

Mindwipe let out a ragged sigh. "You have an Autobot in your head."

Dogfight watched helplessly as a Cybertronian fighter dropped a bomb on Backstreet.

Oh, Primus, no! Diving precipitously towards the ground, the flier caught a quick glimpse of his friend and fellow Triggerbot. It was more than enough to convince him that the damage had been fatal.

"Oh, that is it! No one cuts down Dogfight's teammate and lives to tell the tale!" Swooping back up into the dry Cheyne air, the blue Autobot jet quickly scanned the skies for his friend's killer. He wasn't hard to find; the Decepticon's jet black hull and flame motif embellishment stood out from the crowd of grey and green fighters that filled the air between them.

Flipping his flamethrowers back, Dogfight used them to boost his airspeed as he charged madly through the enemy fighter squadrons. He took more than a couple hits, but the young Autobot was too angry to notice the pain. The Decepticon seemed to see his reckless charge, reluctantly looping around to meet it.

"That's right, you murdering scum! Bring it on!" As they drew nearer, Dogfight's flamethrowers swept back around, spewing fire at the onrushing Decepticon. "Eat this! It goes nice with your paintjob!" The Decepticon made no response but to quickly dive out of Dogfight's line of fire. The Triggerbot almost scoffed at his enemy's cowardice.

Then he saw the missiles screaming towards him in the Decepticon's wake.

Dogfight was moving too quickly to even try to avoid the incoming projectiles. They slammed into him head-on, sending the reckless Autobot spiralling to the ground in flames.

Had he been lucid enough to notice, Rage would have been proud of the swath he'd cut through the enemy ranks.

After ploughing past Grimlock like a bulldozer through a stack of hay bales, the Cybertronian commander had moved to engage the Dinobot commander's troops. The first enemy he'd come upon was one of the throwbacks' abominable 'Pretender' units, Transformers who had debased themselves by donning organic armour shaped like inferior carbon-based life forms. This particular offence against nature had taken on the form of a giant purple lizard girt with golden armour plates. As Rage approached, the creature roared and threw itself through the air towards him.

Snorting contemptuously, Rage drew his acid cannon and shot the creature three times at point-blank range. The Pretender fell to the ground in a heap, its synthflesh burning and melting. Clawing at its own skin, the relic screeched in agony.

Rage took a few steps forward, preparing to finish the pathetic creature off entirely, when another primitive Decepticon leapt out from cover and shot a small, strange-looking shell in the Cybertronian commander's direction. Shunting his acid cannon back into subspace storage, Rage drew his sicklesword and sliced the small projectile in half.

Turning his attention to the smallish purple and grey Decepticon who'd launched the shell, fury gleaming in his optics. "A surprise attack, hmmm? Not very courageous."

"Taunting instead of killing, hmmm?" the other Transformer buzzed back in a mocking tone. "Not very crafty." The cannon barrel mounted on the Decepticon's head tracked downwards and fired a mortar shell into Rage's chest.

The Cybertronian took a step backwards, genuinely pained by the attack. "Oh, much better," he said dryly. "But not good enough." Drawing his fusion carbine, Rage shot the smaller Transformer once in the torso. His foe collapsed to the ground with a hole the size of a Micromaster in his chest.

Turning back to the lizard-like monstrosity, Rage scowled. The creature, seemingly overcome with pain, was lying motionless in the dirt. Its skin had burned straight through in several places and he could see the metallic superstructure that it was built upon. "Now, where were we?"

"Right here," a pained voice hissed from behind him. Milliseconds later, there was a sound like a clap of thunder and Rage was thrown to the ground.

"You ruined my beautiful shell," the voice said. Rolling onto his back, Rage found himself looking up at an average-sized purple and red Transformer wearing the old-style purple Decepticon sigil. "That's going to cost you."

"It'll take more than an air gun to take me down," Rage told the enemy. He leapt upwards with a roar, slashing out with his sicklesword. His ancestral foe stumbled backwards, clutching the truncated stump of his right arm. His hand, still holding his rifle, hit the ground with a clang. Lunging forward, Rage struck the Pretender's head from his shoulders.

"I think it's time you picked on someone your own size," a cocky voice called out from behind him. Turning, Rage found himself staring at someone who was, indeed, his own size. He recognized the figure instantly as one of the original Decepticons' few Triplechangers. In his hand, the Decepticon held an out-of-date but still very deadly electron scimitar.

"Blitzwing, isn't it?" Rage held his own blade up in a wary guard position. "Well, lets get this over with. You couldn't possibly be less of a challenge than your friends were."

"Iguanus and Bombshell were loyal Decepticons," Blitzwing shot back hotly. "I'll kill you for them, if nothing else." With that, the Triplechanger charged.

Even after all the disclaimers Hot Rod had attached, Springer hadn't expected anything quite this insane and suicidal. But Broadside refused to try Squeezeplay's suggestion, so Hot Rod's was the only idea they had.

Flying lead with the rest of the strike force's air group following behind him, the Wrecker leader carefully sized up the opposition. In addition to Tidal Wave, the Imperial forces had at least two dozen operational units in the air and twice that many on the ground.

And to deal with that, I've got eleven badly damaged Autobots and Decepticons. What fun.

The Cybertronians caught on to their approach quickly, as the Wrecker leader had intended. A good chunk of their air wing moved in to engage. In the lead, Springer could make out the silhouette of the high-ranking Imperial who'd killed Longtooth.

Well, well...looks like Windrazor and I are going to have a rematch...

"I've got the leader," he told the rest of his squad. "The rest of you, keep together and work as a team. Whirl, you're in charge."

With that, Springer activated the booster thrusters mounted under his short wings and roared towards his enemy at breakneck speed. He was in their midst before any of the Decepticons had a chance to react. Transforming to robot mode, he crashed right into Windrazor and wrapped the Decepticon in a brutal tackle.

As the duo fell from the sky, Windrazor managed to transform as well. Upon seeing the face of his attacker, he snarled.

"Bet you didn't expect to see me again, did you?" Springer asked mockingly before he headbutted the Cybertronian in the face.

In many ways, swordplay was like a dance. Parry and thrust. Slash and riposte. Jab and dodge. Rage had done a great deal of it in his time as a soldier, but he never got tired of it. It was one of the most difficult of a warriors' skills to master, and rarely had he found someone who could match him in a swordfight even for a short while. Blitzwing wasn't the most talented swordsman he'd ever faced, but what the Triplechanger lacked in skill he more than made up for in sheer fury.

But if there was ever an arena that Rage could claim dominance in, it was anger.

Anger was a blinding emotion to most beings. It made them strike out wildly, ignoring the skills they'd learned or been programmed with in favour of sheer atavistic brutality. But to one who was intimately acquainted with all the different flavours of the feeling, rage was more than an emotion. It was a fuel.

Many enemies would quail and flee upon seeing the boiling fury in Rage's optics close up, but Blitzwing only laughed. "You're a little upset, eh? I guess that's what being a wannabe will do to you..."

Rage didn't respond verbally. He lashed out physically instead, striking out at the Triplechanger with a series of lightning-quick chopping slashes. Blitzwing couldn't keep up with the pace; he deflected the strikes away from his body, but received more than a few chips, cuts and cracks on his arms and legs.

"Getting a little slow in your old age, relic?" Rage would have smiled if he'd been designed to do so. "Don't worry. It won't be long before I put you out of your misery."

"Don't count on it, slagheap!" Blitzwing replied with a fierce onslaught of his own, his attacks slower but more forceful that Rage's had been. Several times he struck at the Cybertronian's head, but Rage's speedy reflexes allowed him to duck each stroke.

After one particularly wild swing, Rage grabbed Blitzwing's wrist, pulled the other Transformer towards him and repeatedly drove his knee into Blitzwing's chest. The Triplechanger dropped his sword and crumpled to his knees.

"A pity you chose to fight on the wrong side," Rage told him. "You have the makings of a good warrior. If you'd been one of my subordinates, I might have made something of you. Alas..." Rage's optics glowed as he stabbed Blitzwing in the upper chest. "We'll never know now."

Drawing his sword up and out through Blitzwing's right shoulder, the Cybertronian watched as his foe crumpled to the ground in an oil-slicked heap.

All around him, Rage's mechs were falling to the combined Autobot/Decepticon taskforce. Aside from elite members of his force like Gutcruncher, Banzai-Tron, Double Punch and Skyjack, none of his troops could stand against the more experienced first-generation soldiers. Only a handful of Imperial warriors remained on their feet, most of those retreating in the face of the Allied attack. Rage couldn't have cared less. The way he was feeling, he would have gladly taken on the entire Alliance force single-handedly, either one at a time or en masse.

"Who's next?" he demanded. "Who among you has the courage to face me?"

"Me."

Rage's green optic band glowed so brightly that it almost seemed white. Striding towards him was Grimlock, leader of the vaunted Dinobots, stepping over the corpses of the three Decepticons that the Cybertronian leader had dispatched.

"It's about time."

Hot Rod watched nervously as the rest of the taskforce carried out his plan. In the distance, he could make out the image of Springer and the rest of the air group meeting the Cybertronian jets in battle. A few seconds after the first shots had been fired in that battle, Carnivac, Pincher and Squeezeplay leaped out from cover in their beast modes and tore an Imperial ground patrol to pieces. The remaining ground troops heard the ruckus and started to move in their direction. Carnivac's team transformed to robot mode and started to fall back, firing at their pursuers. The Imperials started taking fire from behind not long after. Skullcruncher and Submarauder, too badly damaged to get involved in a melee, had taken position atop a ruined building and were acting as snipers. Neither was particularly good at it, but the distraction they provided was more important than the damage they could cause.

As Carnivac's unit continued to fall back, the sniper fire forced the Cybertronian ground team to follow closely. Slowly but surely, they drifted away from the rampaging Tidal Wave, who didn't seem to notice that all his support had been drawn away.

"Alright, Skids," Hot Rod said. "Time for us to do our thing."

"You're sure this is going to work?" Skids was a lot more nervous than Hot Rod was, and unlike the young cavalier he wasn't too proud to let it show. "As you said, it was a bit of a high-risk proposition."

"Let's find out," Hot Rod told him with a shrug. Getting a grip on the lip of the crater that they'd been hiding in, the young Autobot pulled himself up and over the edge. Transforming to vehicle mode, he roared off towards Tidal Wave, reluctantly checking his speed so that Skids could keep pace. As they drew closer to the giant Decepticon, Hot Rod was more than a little peeved to find that he didn't even seem to notice them.

"Alright, Skids, let's introduce ourselves to this pile of junk!"

"I think you're supposed to say 'Wreck and Rule'." Skids slammed on his brakes, transformed and drew his liquid nitrogen rifle. Cranking the pressure setting up to maximum, he fired a steady stream of ultra-cold liquid up at the titan's knee joint. He kept the barrage up for the better part of five seconds until Tidal Wave finally caught on.

As the giant Decepticon turned and looked down at them, Hot Rod gulped. "Burn rubber, Skids!" The cavalier barely had time to obey his own command; he was just starting to accelerate when maser blasts began to chew up the ground all around the two Wreckers. Skids, who'd had to transform back to vehicle mode before he could even think of making a getaway, didn't have a chance. Hit by a half-dozen high-powered coherent microwave beams, the theoretician didn't collapse so much as he melted to the ground.

"Dammit, no!" Hot Rod power-turned back towards the massive Decepticon, accelerating as quickly as his engine could drive him. Tidal Wave's microwave blasts tore into the ground behind him, his chest-mounted turrets unable to track quickly enough to catch up with the streaking cavalier. Zooming between his enemy's legs, Hot Rod transformed and fired a barrage from his wrist blasters into Tidal Wave's frozen knee joint. He didn't have a chance to see what sort of damage he'd done, though, because his momentum carried him forwards until he crashed awkwardly into a pile of debris.

Groaning in disgust, Hot Rod pulled himself up out of the wreckage. Looking over at Tidal Wave, he saw that his blasts had neatly shattered the armour that covered the giant's knee joint. It wasn't hampering his movement any, though; he was stalking towards Hot Rod with enough purposeful malice to equip an entire army of Decepticons.

Oh, this is gonna be a close one... The young Autobot prepared to transform back to vehicle mode and make another getaway, but before he could make a move one of the nearby dilapidated buildings collapsed right on top of the Decepticon. For a moment Hot Rod wasn't sure what was going on, but he figured it out quickly enough when he saw a familiar grey and red vehicle floating just off-shore.

"Where the Pit did you come from?" Hot Rod asked.

"You're welcome," Splashdown replied, transforming and coming ashore. "Sorry about disappearing like that, but I figured you guys might need a bit of backup."

"What are you...?" Hot Rod trailed off as a sextet of pink, blue and green figures rose out of the water. "The Seacons. You found them."

"Had a heck of a time tracking them down, I'll tell you. And an even worse time talking them into coming here." The Pretender shrugged. "I could always ask them to go away..."

"Don't you dare," Hot Rod said. He looked back towards the building that had collapsed on Tidal Wave. The giant Decepticon's fist had already smashed upwards out of the debris. "Snaptrap, if you'd be so kind..."

"Leave," the Seacon leader boomed. "This foe is beyond either of you." Turning to his team, he shouted, "Seacons, unite!"

Five of the Decepticon underwater specialists combined, reconfiguring and meshing into one being. Nautilator, the odd mech out as usual, transformed into his heat-seeking torpedo cannon mode. Piranacon stood at the water's edge with Nautilator in one hand and Snaptrap's incendiary sword in the other, waiting patiently for Tidal Wave to dig himself out.

He didn't have to wait long. Tidal Wave practically exploded out of the collapsed building, charging towards Piranacon like a creature possessed. The two giant Transformers collided, pitched over backwards and vanished into the depths of Pequod's mercury sea.

With a grim expression on his face, Skydive took aim and fired. Downshift saw him at the last second and the blast that was meant to take him in the side of the head ended up hitting one of the traitorous Omnibot's laser cannons instead. The mountings that held the weapon in place were dissolved by the energy beam and the cannon clattered to the ground.

"Oh, well played," Downshift said arrogantly, raising his neural shock gun. "But not good enough. You never should have come alone."

"He didn't."

Before Downshift could react, Streetwise stepped out of the shadows behind his Aerialbot partner and snapped off one shot with his photon pistol. The weapon was capable of firing either destructive energy beams or blinding flashes of light, and it was one of the latter that had been triggered now. Streetwise and Skydive, knowing what was coming, had a chance to realign their sensors to absorb the blast. Downshift didn't. Clutching at his ruined optics with one hand, he fired blasts from his neural shock gun and his remaining laser seemingly at random throughout the room. The two Autobots dove for cover.

"Dammit!" Skydive poked out from behind the shuttle he was hiding behind, then ducked back quickly when an energy beam narrowly missed taking his head off. "We've got to stop him before he hits something vital! Streetwise, can you get a bead on him?"

"I'll try!" The Protectobot security officer slid out from the alcove he was hiding in, but before he could get a shot off, he was distracted by an ominous noise. "Skydive, you hear that?"

"Yeah." Skydive frowned. "A high-pitched whine, almost like...a capacitor." The Aerialbot's optics widened. "Get back to cover, Streetwise! Now! He's charging up his self-destruct systems!"

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Downshift blew apart from the inside. Skydive strode out from cover to inspect his remains, looked down at the pile of debris and shook his head sadly. "What a waste."

"Hurry it up, Doc! This isn't brain surgery we're talking about here. A little sloppiness wouldn't kill you!"

"I'm working as fast as I can," First Aid shot back. The medic carefully stretched out the index finger on his left hand, pointed it at the last bolt holding the reactor assembly's magnetic constrictors in place, and deftly cut it off with a blast from his built-in laser scalpel. The heavy piece of equipment started to fall towards the ground, but stopped half-way, hanging by a coil of wiring. First Aid fixed that by balling his fist and firing a powerful beam at the cable. "Got it!"

"Then get down from there, doc!" Overdrive shouted back. "The reaction chamber's about to get pretty hot!"

The two Autobots had quickly figured out that they wouldn't be able to break through Downshift's passwords in time to stop the main reactor overload that he'd started. That left them with little choice aside from what they were doing right now: manually cutting every single connector to the reactor assembly in the hope that they'd disable it before the countdown ran out. By taking out all four of the magnetic constrictors First Aid had seriously damaged the cold fusion reactor's ability to function, but it wasn't offline yet.

Hitting the deck with a clang, First Aid stole a glance at the large chronometer on the main engineering console. "Ninety seconds!" he told Overdrive. "How are you doing?"

"I've locked down three of the fuel intakes and I'm working on number four!"

"I'll take number five," the medic said, dashing in that direction. With the constrictors offline, the generator needed a lot more fuel to simply keep the reaction going. If they could cut off the feed from enough of the ship's fuel tanks, they should be able to force the reactor into shutdown mode. Or so they hoped.

Arriving at intake port number five, First Aid glanced over his shoulder.

Fifty-one seconds.

The doctor popped open the hatch that covered the intake's controls, then reached for the manual shutoff valve. He grabbed it and tried to twist, but to no avail. He twisted harder and the valve broke off in his hand. "Blast!" He looked at the clock.

Thirty-two seconds.

First Aid quickly took stock of the situation. With the valve broken, there was no chance he'd be able to shut down the flow in time. Intake number six was too far away to reach it in time, and the medic didn't have any tools to speak of.

Twenty-six seconds.

"I've got my lasers, though..." First Aid looked down at the fuel conduit warily, then balled his right hand up into a fist. "I regret this already," he said as he blasted the conduit open. Pressurized liquid hydrogen sprayed out of the breach hard enough to knock him onto his back. As he fell, he caught sight of the timer.

Sixteen seconds.

First Aid looked up at the fusion core, trying to keep the fear from showing in his optics. "Come on, come on..." As if the doctor's words had been all that was needed to cooperate, the reactor core's blue glow quickly faded to black.

Slowly climbing to his feet, the medic shook himself off. "Good work, Overdrive. Good work."

"Thanks." The Omnibot approached from the other side of the engineering bay. He grinned. "Aren't you gonna check the timer one last time, Doc?"

"Not if my life depended on it."

Calcar managed to keep his composure when the massive sword-wielding enemy dropped through the roof, but only just. He calmly examined the other Transformer for a few seconds before nodding absently. "You're early."

"So it would seem." The large enemy stood up straight, holding his sword up in a textbook-perfect guard position. The old-style purple Decepticon insignia on his torso revealed his allegiance for all in the bunker to see (although truth be told, at the moment 'all' included just Calcar and his dimwitted bodyguard Road Pig).

The Imperial commander shifted his attention to the blade for a moment. "A nanotech sword, I take it? Excellent craftsmanship. Where you found such a thing I can't imagine."

"It was costly," the enemy admitted. "You command this outpost?"

"I command the planet," the Imperial corrected absently. "I am Calcar, Cybertronian Empire Strategic Corps."

"Honoured, I'm sure," the imposing Decepticon's voice carried a distinct trace of irony. "I'm Sixshot, Decepticon Solo Transformer Assault Group."

"Uh, chief..." Road Pig tapped Calcar on the shoulder a bit roughly. "Not to be overthinkin' or anything, but shouldn't we, uh, be, ya know...killing him?"

"You're welcome to try," Sixshot said before Calcar could reply. "But I really don't have a pressing reason to kill you right now. You would be much more useful as prisoners."

"Yeah, that's rich." Road Pig activated his energo-blade and charged the much-larger Transformer.

Sixshot didn't seem to move more than a couple inches, but he somehow deflected the laser cycle's weapon, grabbed him by the neck and hoisted him off the ground. The hexchanger clamped his other hand firmly around Road Pig's right forearm, twisting it and the attached energy blade away from his body. "You're an idiot." Moving lightning-quick, the Decepticon head-butted the smaller Transformer and dropped his unconscious body to the ground.

Calcar looked down at him, then sighed and held up his hands. "Shall I order the troops to stand down?"

"Oh, I wouldn't bother," Sixshot said with a small shrug. "My cohort will deal with them quickly enough."

"Cohort?" Calcar frowned. "You mean to say there are only two of you?"

"I do." The Decepticon shrugged. "Time for you to go to sleep."

Calcar was about to protest that robots didn't need sleep when Sixshot clubbed him in the head with the hilt of his sword and the world turned black.

Windrazor grappled for his life with the demented Autobot, all too aware of the air whistling around them as they fell. Strong as he was, he couldn't even begin to try and break Springer's hold on his upper arms. "You're a madman!" he snarled.

"You're a murderer," Springer countered, driving his knee into the Cybertronian's torso.

"Unh!" Windrazor was weakened by the blow, but not defeated. "I'm a soldier, you imbecile! So are you. We fight, kill and die all the time!"

"Your time's up." Springer kicked off of the Cybertronian's chest, transforming to helicopter mode and regaining altitude. Milliseconds later, before he could begin to take advantage of his newfound freedom of motion, Windrazor hit the ground with a crunch.

He didn't get back up.

Grimlock grunted as he blocked Rage's latest attack. The Dinobot leader had to take a step back to regain his footing.

"Having a little trouble, Autobot?"

"Shut up." Grimlock cocked his right arm back and punched Rage in the face. The Cybertronian reeled backwards and fell to the ground. "Me think you the one having trouble, 'Con scum."

Rage thrust an arm out as he hit the ground, propelling himself into a sideways roll. He came up in a crouch half a dozen paces away from the Dinobot. "You really are a relic, aren't you? How are your troops supposed to understand you when your speech circuits don't work?"

"Me not need them to understand," Grimlock leapt forward, transformed to Tyrannosaur mode and chomped down on Rage's leg. Swinging his neck to the side, he tossed the Decepticon two dozen metres in the air. "As long as they shoot guys with aqua badges, me happy."

Rage crashed into (and through) a crumbling native building before he hit the ground. If he felt the slightest amount of pain, he didn't let on. Instead, he flung himself to his feet as if he hadn't even noticed that he'd been thrown. Gripping the hilt of his sicklesword in both hands, he charged at the Dinobot leader like a medieval knight in a jousting competition. Grimlock stampeded forward to meet him, his beast-mode legs propelling him forward like a charging freight train.

Separated from the battle that raged off in the distance between Springer's troops and the Imperials, Hot Rod had little to do but squint at the sea trying to catch a glimpse of Piranacon or Tidal Wave as the two titanic Transformers clashed under the waves. It was no use, though; the quicksilver waves were opaque, hiding everything beneath their impenetrable, mirror-like surface.

Come on, the young cavalier thought eagerly, take him down, Seacons!

Hot Rod shook his head ruefully, not quite sure when he'd started cheering for the Decepticons.

Piranacon reared up, snarled, and drove the crown of his head into Tidal Wave's chest. The massive Imperial soldier reeled from the impact, backpedalling in slow motion as he moved through the mercury that surrounded both combatants.

Not letting up for a second, Piranacon mounted a similarly slow-motion charge at the somewhat bigger Transformer. The Seacon gestalt swung his right arm around, trying to pistol-whip the Imperial. Tidal Wave was quicker, though; he caught the combiner's forearm in one massive hand, then tore Nautilator out of his grip with the other. Piranacon watched with ice-cold fury as the Imperial crushed the sixth member of the combiner unit.

"That was a poor choice," he intoned ominously, his already-menacing voice rendered even more so by the mercury that it travelled through before reaching his foe's audio sensors.

Tidal Wave's only response was a blank stare, followed by a powerful punch that took Piranacon full in the face. The Seacon combiner fell over backwards, slamming into a rock-hard coral reef as he hit the ground. Agony flared in his torso as chunks of coral tore deep into his back, but the gestalt ignored both the pain and the rapid failure of Snaptrap's systems that it heralded. Throwing himself to his feet, Piranacon brought his sword around and charged Tidal Wave.

The other Transformer saw him coming, or course, but couldn't move quickly enough through the mercury to get out of the way. The three-pronged head of the blade pushed deep into Tidal Wave's midsection.

Tidal Wave roared in pain, the first time Piranacon could recall hearing him utter any noise whatsoever. The massive Transformer's hands took a firm grip on the blade's crossguard, trying to force it back out of his wounded body. Piranacon had too much momentum behind him, though; the blade drove into Tidal Wave up to the hilt. The giant Seacon's speed kept him moving, forcing Tidal Wave back up towards the shoreline.

Hot Rod let out a whoop as the two combatants surfaced, Piranacon's blade buried deep in his foe's guts. His glee didn't last very long, though. Both of the massive Transformers collapsed on the beach. Tidal Wave lay where he fell, not moving it all. Piranacon convulsed a half-dozen times, then fell apart into his component Decepticons.

His five component Decepticons.

Whirling to face Splashdown, the young Autobot shouted, "Get in the water and see if you can find Nautilator. And try to come back this time, OK?" Before the Pretender had even started moving, Hot Rod was already shouting into his comlink. "Tidal Wave is down! I repeat, Tidal Wave is down! Mission accomplished, guys!"

Gutcruncher watched with morbid fascination as his commander collided full-speed with the massive Dinobot. None of the other Transformers on the battlefield were fighting anymore; only a handful of elite Cybertronian troops were still standing and their Autobot and Decepticon enemies were in no better shape. The battle had ground to a halt, as if everyone realized that the entire conflict boiled down to this one fight. If Grimlock won the Imperials would be utterly defeated. If Rage emerged victorious he would kill every single Autobot and Decepticon on the planet single-handedly.

And possibly his own soldiers as well, for being so bloody useless.

The two Transformers hit each other with such force that both of them seemed to stop as if they'd run into a brick wall. Rage's sword stabbed deep into Grimlock's chest, and the Dinobot's jaws clamped firmly down on the Imperial commander's upper body. They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity (although in truth it probably only took two or three seconds), Rage twisting his sword with all his strength while Grimlock did his best to tear off the other Transformer's head and shoulders.

Without warning they separated, Grimlock staggering in place and Rage backpedalling unevenly like a punch-drunk prizefighter. Fuel and lubricants oozed from the horrendous wound on the Dinobot leader's torso, while the Imperial's left arm had nearly been severed. Rage wavered on the spot for a few more seconds, then buckled to the ground in a heap. Grimlock took a few steps towards his foe before he collapsed himself.

Gutcruncher made a disgusted noise, then shouted, "Imperial forces, recover any wounded and retreat to the transports! Now!"

As a handful of troops scooped Rage of the ground and carried him away, Gutcruncher couldn't help but think, Overlord is not going to be happy about this.

"How is that even possible?"

Counterpunch's voice was incredulous; he couldn't have been more shocked if Mindwipe had ripped his face off to expose himself as a Mechannibal wearing an especially good disguise.

"I...I don't know," Mindwipe admitted. "But those hidden sectors of memory...they aren't yours. They belong to an Autobot named Punch."

"How...how long has he been in there?"

"Not long," Mindwipe told him. "They had you in custody for a long time, but they did this recently." The mystic shrugged. "Probably very recently. This seems like Prowl's doing. It certainly never vould have happened before Prime vent underground."

"And this Autobot...he..." Counterpunch broke off. "Wait a minute. You say Prime went underground? That's where he's been hiding all these months?"

"Indeed." Mindwipe nodded. "The Autobots tried to keep it quiet, but I, uh, correspond vith vun of the monks he has been staying with."

"Of course," Counterpunch said, almost as if he hadn't heard Mindwipe at all. "That explains what Megatron has been doing..." The spy's voice trailed off before he could say anything else, his body convulsing as if it was trying to transform against the wishes of it's owner.

Mindwipe took a step back. "Counterpunch? Are you alright?"

"No..." The spy's voice was strained. "Run. Now!"

"But...what..." Mindwipe stared back at the other Decepticon.

"Too late..." Counterpunch convulsed one last time before the transformation sequence kicked in. But instead of turning into a vehicle of some sort, he folded into the shape of another, different robot. "You should have kept your mouth shut," the new robot said.

Mindwipe looked fearfully at the Autobot insignia on his chest. "Who are you?"

"They call me Punch," the Autobot said. "Autobot deep-cover operative." He hefted the double-barrelled rifle in his hands threateningly. "And you, I'm afraid, know too much about me to go on living."

This time Punch didn't relinquish control to his Decepticon counterpart once the murder was complete. Stepping over Mindwipe's mangled, ruined body, the spy carefully thought over what the mystic had said.

Prime's gone underground to study with the monks, has he? Although he'd known that Prime was gone, he hadn't known where. None of his intelligence networks had been able to ferret that out, and in his role as a Decepticon spy it wouldn't have been possible to just walk up to Prowl and ask.

Of course, if I had, it would have made this job a whole lot easier... Kup had tasked Punch with secretly digging up the current whereabouts of Megatron, and the spy had been baffled to find that the Decepticon leader had been marauding around Cybertron's underlevels. He'd even gone so far as to influence his Decepticon counterpart to launch an investigation, but Counterpunch had been just as perplexed as he was. But if Prime's down there too...this won't end well.

Punch sighed heavily. The spy knew that he had to get this information back to Prowl as soon as possible, even if it meant breaking cover.

Frankly, at this point it would be a relief. This whole 'Counterpunch' shtick is getting old.

Epilogue: Autobase Iacon

Sitting on the edge of the main holotable in the Autobase War Room, Prowl read through the last of the incident reports with an incredulous expression on his face.

"This is madness," he snapped, turning his attention to Soundwave. "How could so many Imperial agents infiltrate Cybertron without either of us catching on?"

"They are good at what they do," the Decepticon said simply.

The Terrorcons stood behind Soundwave, Hun-grrr glaring balefully at anyone who approached them while the rest of the team merely looked bored. The acting Decepticon leader never brought along his own security, so Prowl assumed that it was a reaction to the terrorist attacks. Had he not been preoccupied with more important matters, the strategist reflected, he probably would have been offended by that.

"So it would seem," he allowed. "But that's less of a concern than what they plan to do next. They never would have made a move as bold as this unless they intended to build on it."

"Agreed," Soundwave said. "We have to expect further enemy action." He glanced sidelong at his Autobot counterpart. "But I imagine you and I have already come to the same conclusion."

Prowl nodded. "If your conclusion is that the Imperial invasion of Cameron was a feint meant to draw away as many of our best warriors as they could, then we have." When Soundwave didn't comment, the strategist continued. "If you haven't already, you should put all of your units and garrisons on high alert and tell them to prepare for an invasion."

"It may be too late for that," a voice behind Prowl cut in. The Autobot commander turned to find Grotusque, still visibly shaken by the day's events, standing with a datapad. The Monsterbot continued, "We just got a report from one of our orbital listening posts. There's a fleet coming in. A big one."

"How many ships?"

"The post couldn't get an accurate count, and we've lost radio contact. I've got Blaster trying to break through the jamming, but so far no luck." Grotusque's expression turned sour. "What I can tell you is that the massive warship that Cosmos spotted at Grand Central is dead center in the middle of the formation."

"It would appear that war is upon us," Soundwave said. If Prowl hadn't known him so well, he would have sworn that he could hear an undercurrent of fear in the Decepticon's usual monotone voice.

"So it would appear," Prowl agreed. To Grotusque, he said, "Put the planetary defences on battle alert and get all of our space-worthy fighters in the air. Then get in touch with the other Autobases and tell them to do the same. We'll join you in Operations shortly."

"Aye, sir." Grotusque saluted smartly, turned on his heel, and walked out of the war room.

Prowl stood up straight and turned to face Soundwave.

"Now," he said, "we find out just how good a job we've done of fortifying this planet."

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