TITLE: Tipping Point,

Tipping point: the precise instant that momentum swings in one’s favor

SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
Author’s Note: this story was developed and mostly written long before I got my hands on ‘The Veiled Threat’. When I started going through the book I was surprised to note similarities.
I solemnly swear I didn’t try to copy the plot. *hand on heart*
And the idea behind some similar sounding parts is a different one any way :)

Now for an apology: my knowledge of Australia comes from books and the internet. I’ve never been there. I apologize for mangling it already.
I’m also a complete idiot when it comes to physics, astrophysics and astronomy. I claim artistic license and writer’s freedom here. My plot beta already winced so loud, I could hear her from a hundred kilometers away :) She’s an engineer. I’m not. Sorry…

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Fourteen years had passed since the fateful fight at Mission City and the subsequent destruction of the Allspark. More years since the first arrival of Bumblebee on Earth, followed by several Decepticons, all looking for the Allspark. In those years alliances had come into existence, bonds had formed between humans and mechanoids, and new-arrivals had graced the ranks of the Autobot forces on Earth. Things were ever-changing, developing, and gaining in strength and momentum.

From the team that had been almost wiped out in Qatar to the unit later under the command of Captain Robert Epps to the formation of an international military operation called AIDDE, the Allied International Defense Division of Earth. Headed by General Glenn Morshower, with Epps the field commander and now the rank of major, AIDDE had set up different bases.

The General worked on the same level as Banachek, who was head of Project. The connection and interaction between the two was complicated and would probably cause a meltdown in any outsider who had no idea about the intricacies of such operations. To the two powerful men it was clear that despite Morshower’s rank and seniority in the military field, Banachek was the commander of all operations. So far there had been no problems. Banachek only answered to the President, and even the most powerful man in the political structure of the USA knew when to leave the former Sector Seven head of research free reign.

Nevada was Epps’ base. He was the commanding officer and no one had tried to argue. He ran the base efficiently and he had the trust of the allies. Nevada was the base where all newcomers were introduced to the unconventional way the military of Earth worked together with their alien visitors, and new residents of Earth. Rules had been adjusted without bending them too badly or breaking them completely. Military life had to be worked into this alliance and so far it had worked well.

Yuma had come under the command of Captain Nathan Carter and was mainly the Constructicons’ home base. Carter had migrated from liaison to commanding officer without much of a problem. He was ‘on loan’ from Yuma Proving Ground, to which the new base belonged on paper, but was actually autonomous territory. The commander of YPG had no jurisdiction, but Carter was liaison to his former base and would work in cooperation. He now only answered to Banachek and Morshower. Scrapper and Scavenger had agreed that the captain was well-suited for this alliance, and there hadn’t been any incidents so far. There were few soldiers at Yuma right now, but that would change.

Arctic was still Banachek’s headquarters and only semi-military. Arctic had become the main base for the brain pool, the scientists. The Ghost-2 still had her home at the northern-most base. Kyle Walker and his crew had been transferred there.

The human race in general didn’t know more about the aliens among them than fourteen years ago, but the governments of Earth had formed their own alliance over the fact of the Autobots’ existence. The international team was one sign of that. A new base planned in the southern hemisphere another.

The introduction of Hot Rod as a Prime had caused some waves, though not as high as Hot Rod had thought they would. Ratchet and Ironhide, the two most senior officers, had been surprised, shocked to put it mildly, but they hadn’t argued. Being Prime wasn’t simply a matter of rising through the ranks; it was a birth right.

“Who would have thought,” had been Ironhide’s comment. “Kid’s going places.”

Scrapper, as the Constructicon leader and in Prime’s optics of the same rank and position as Jazz, had nodded his own acceptance. The others had simply accepted the change in the command structure, though it wasn’t that big of a change. Rodimus Prime still needed to get used to a lot of things, as did the others need to get used to a shared leadership between two Primes, but Cybertron had once been governed by two leaders, too. It wasn’t that much of a difference.

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The arrival of four new Autobots within two months had coincided with rather suspicious activities in Australia. For weeks there had been reports about strange occurrences and Prime had finally deployed Prowl and Sideswipe for a recon mission. The Australian government had been included in the knowledge of alien mechanoids on Earth and their military had been cooperating with the US for a while now. Australian soldiers were part of the Nevada and Yuma crews. Captain Andrew Burns had been put in charge of the Australian operation already, so he coordinated transportation of the Autobots with the logistician at Nevada, Trent DeMarco. His Australian counterpart was a man called Lieutenant Cary Monash and both soldiers worked well together.

While neither Prowl nor Sideswipe found more than faint traces of possible Decepticon activity, the crash of the Cybertronian shuttle pre-empted all attempts to get a closer look at those tracks for a few days. They had picked up the coded message from a shuttle heading for Earth, requesting assistance since they were running out of energon and had way too many sparks aboard to sustain them all for much longer.

Optimus had been relieved to hear of more survivors, even if they had practically limped here on the last leg of their shuttle’s capabilities. The landing had been at night, in the middle of the Australian Outback where only a few indigenous mammals and reptiles had witnessed the almost-crash. Soldiers of AIDDE had swarmed the area, Jazz, Sideswipe and Prowl had welcomed the new-comers, and a C-17 had been readied to transport the protoforms to Nevada.

Jazz had flown back with the new Autobots, answering questions patiently as the mechs tried to get their bearings. Even aboard the transport plane they had started to refuel. By the time they had arrived at the Nevada facility everyone was much more stable, but not enough for Ratchet to be satisfied and clear them immediately.


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Forty-eight hours later, with the new-arrivals briefed on recent events, Prime had immediately sent off Jolt to meet up with Prowl and Sideswipe while Perceptor had joined the Constructicons on the Ark to assist with connecting the almost ready battle station to the humans’ systems. Blaster had launched himself into orbit and connected to a Stark Industries satellite to use as a hub. Without disturbing the hybrid technology’s systems he had inserted several data cables, plugged himself into every important and sometimes even not so important system. He was by now interfaced with the SI satellite drones to keep an eye on matters in the solar system, guiding the small unmanned crafts steadily to their final positions to complete a complex network of surveillance. The moment the Ark was ready, he would transfer control over to her. Until then he kept an optic on matters, so to speak, as well as inserted himself into the communications network of Earth. Blades had at first joined Nellis in the disguise of a Chinook helicopter, but Prime had reassigned him to Australia. It played well into the character of the only Protectobot to make it to Earth so far since sitting around doing nothing wasn’t his strong point. If there was a Decepticon to be fought, he wanted to be there.

Australia had offered itself as a new site for a base and it had been chosen because of the wide-spread Outback, an area where mechs could easily hide and a base would remain a secret for a while. It was where the shuttle of the new-arrivals was now stationed. It would undergo major reconstruction and serve as an addition to the two Ghosts.

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Optimus was alone in the large conference room at Nevada, mentally flipping through the reports Ratchet had given him on the new-arrivals.

Perceptor was a very valuable addition to the Ark’s team and he had had no problem accepting the Constructicons as their allies. Perceptor had one of the most astute minds of Cybertron, had always been a scientist right down to his spark. The war had thrown him a little since he was no warrior, had never been and hadn’t become one throughout the battles either. His contributions to the Autobot cause had been on a scientific level.

Blaster’s survival, together with all his symbiotes, now gave the Autobots an edge since Blaster was somewhat of a counterpart to Soundwave. His presence in Earth’s orbit assured a better surveillance, a better access to communications around the planet, and he was invaluable in establishing a line of communication to the Ark and into deep space.

Blades worried Prime a little. He was one of the former Protectorbots, mechs assigned for specific purposes, mostly to guard and protect either individuals, groups or specific targets. They were defense specialists and highly skilled in their particular field of expertise. They had never liked the word ‘bodyguard’ for their job since they worked such a wide-spread area. The team had come together from rescue mechs, emergency response teams and law enforcement under the leadership of Hot Spot. At the end of the war Optimus had heard of five survivors, including Hot Spot, but only Blades had made it here.

And Blades was former law enforcement with an intense hatred of everything Decepticon. He wasn’t alone in that hatred, Optimus knew, but Blades would jump into the middle of a fight with no regard for his own life just to off-line the enemy. It had made for some tense moments with Barricade, who didn’t back down from a challenge, nor made any peace offerings. Jazz hadn’t interfered, but he had been close just in case. Optimus knew that to diffuse the situation, Blades had to be stationed somewhere else.

Australia was remote enough.

Jolt was more of Hot Rod’s age, but with less scars from the war and a lot more troublemaking energy. He was a competent soldier, a good warrior, and he wielded a mean electro-whip. Ratchet recalled him from teaching lessons and Jolt had shown himself to be quietly competent when it came to repairs and the medical profession. Optimus knew that having someone with even the most basic medical skills around was always a bonus. And Ratchet had volunteered to pick up his teachings should Jolt wish it.

Almost silent steps announced the arrival of one of their human allies and he didn’t really need to scan to know who it was. Will Lennox had a very unique aura around him and he was easily identified by those who had worked with him for so long. Like all mechs who knew Lennox, Optimus was aware that scanning the hybrid would only result in backlash and processor aches. Lennox didn’t take well to unwanted or surprise scans.

Runes played lazily over his skin and alert eyes met blue optics.

“Hello, Will,” Optimus greeted him. “I am surprised to see you.”

Lennox shrugged. “I’m in no hurry.”

The human hybrid and Ironhide had planned for two days of away time. Ron Witwicky had a friend who owned a remotely located cabin that was perfect for someone who couldn’t be seen outside and among his own kind any more. Both had been there before and had taken Ron’s friend up on the offer to use it whenever they wanted. He himself wouldn’t be able to since he was currently in Europe and would be there for five more years because of his job.

“Anything?” the former Army Ranger wanted to know.

“No.” Optimus smiled a little. “I doubt you will miss out on whatever Prowl’s team discovers. Ironhide won’t miss an update.”

Will chuckled. “I’m working on that.” He grinned.

Mechs couldn’t blush and Optimus wasn’t an innocent when it came to bonds and sparks sharing a connection. He knew what Will meant and he allowed himself an amused grin. For someone who had had so much difficulty with this unique relationship, Lennox had grown very much into it.

“Happy birthday, Will,” Prime said, catching the human off guard.

Lennox shrugged. “Yeah, well, not something with a lot of meaning any more.”

“It is one of your customs, Will. Despite your changes you can still honor your culture.”

Lennox’s expression was hard to read, but he was more closed off than before. “It loses its meaning, Optimus. As a human you know you will die one day. You know that the average life span is somewhere around eighty to ninety, depending on your genetic bonus points. There are people over one hundred years old, but that’s not the regular occurrence for us humans. You celebrate each year. When you’re a kid you can’t wait to be older. When you grow up you don’t want to be reminded of your growing age. For me that’s no longer something to worry about, right?”

His smile was far from humor-filled and he didn’t look happy. Optimus knelt down, serene optics gazing at the distraught human.

“My kind doesn’t celebrate the day of one’s birth. We don’t bury our dead. We don’t return to a grave. I find your customs curious, but they are your customs and they serve a purpose. Families celebrate to come together. I believe you have a family and you have friends. You might not be able to gather your birth parents around you, but the ceremony of a birthday doesn’t state them as a necessary addition, am I correct?”

Will nodded.

“I believe Major Epps already congratulated you, like many of your men.”

“Not ‘my men’. I’m no longer in charge, Prime.”

“For them you are. You have a special place among them, like you have a special place with us. I don’t see that ignoring your culture and your celebrations will help you on your path, Will Lennox. You are a hybrid. You are part of both our worlds, so your heritage comes both from Earth and Cybertron. Celebrating your birthday, accepting well-wishes, is part of that.”

“At least for the next hundred years?” Lennox quipped. “Because after that it gets repetitive…”

Optimus chuckled. “Yes, maybe.” He held out his hand and Will touched one finger. The runes formed Optimus Prime’s name on his own fingers. “Happy birthday, Will Lennox.”

He smiled a little. “Thank you.”

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Ironhide was waiting for him outside the base, a massive black shape against the glare of the early morning sun. It wasn’t a hot day, but still the desert looked very uninviting. It would be nice to leave all of that behind for a while and enjoy the cooler mountain forests.

“And the rain,” Ironhide muttered when Will mentioned his thoughts.

Lennox chuckled. Last time it had rained the whole time, which had led to a lot of time spent inside the cabin. Fun time, too.

“It’s winter, ‘Hide. Rain’s now snow. Hope you got your snow chains with you.”

Ironhide looked unimpressed, but he transformed and Lennox climbed inside. They drove off with Will behind the wheel as the stand-in driver and Ironhide actually driving.

As the desert made way for more greener scenery, Lennox felt himself relax more and more, too. It was nice to leave the military life behind, even if it was only for a few days. He didn’t mind the snow that could be expected. By tonight they might have to shovel their way to the cabin – or in Ironhide’s case simply walk there and leave suspicious tracks.

Lennox didn’t mind the weather. He wasn’t susceptible to cold any longer. He could sit in the snow in his birthday suit and not feel much of it. Of course, that birthday suit would look like someone had spray-painted the Allspark on him, but who cared?

He smiled a little.

Two days in the snow, with no one around, just him and his partner. Yeah, it sounded like a plan.

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Australia. The fifth continent. The only place on this planet that was a country, an island and a continent.

Rodimus Prime looked around the hot, silent landscape, amazed at the difference in fauna and flora as compared to Nevada. It was even more remote than anything he had seen on this planet before and so easy for Decepticons to lay low undercover. It had been sheer dumb luck to get a ping off them, mainly because when the shuttle with the new-arrivals had come in, something had popped up on their radar.

Within hours the Earth-Cybertronian team had come to Australia and set up camp. The locals had told stories of strange beasts in the night, of mysterious sounds, of their own disappearing.

Rodimus had been pleasantly surprised by the welcoming and open reception his kind had been given by the Aborigines. The Australian natives made up part of the human contingent working with the Autobots, and some had even accompanied his two reconnaissance mechs. They knew the area, they could read tracks, they knew where the strange sightings had been. Their leader, Charles Barina, had taken the mech’s comparatively huge size in a stride, not asked many questions, but the looks had told Rodimus that despite the alienness of his appearance, Barina seemed to see something familiar in him. He would look into the matter when they had dealt with the latest Decepticon insertion.

Walking back into the shade of the base’s topside hangar, Rodimus nodded at the soldiers already stationed here. With the Ark near completion, Nevada, Yuma and Arctic, the arrival of more forces, Optimus had had the luxury of assigning his men to the different places.

The Ark was another matter. It was mostly running on automatic, but there would be a military addition. With artificial gravity and air, humans could live there. Perceptor’s addition to the Constructicons had yielded positive results. He was already designing the interface unit for the human satellites and Blaster was in constant contact with Stark and the design team on Earth. Two more weeks, they estimated, then the defense net would be active.

Steps alerted him to the arrival of their tactician and he nodded at Prowl as the other mech joined him. It was strange to suddenly have such a powerful standing among the Autobot forces. It was something he was still adjusting to – with sometimes occurring difficulties. He was a Prime, no one could argue with that, but how easily his position had been accepted and how easily the much older mechs referred to him as a Prime had thrown him a little.

“Nothing so far,” Prowl reported briskly.

“They are here,” Rodimus replied.

He could almost feel it. But why? What were they doing? They were hiding well, had done so for more days than the Autobots had been looking for them.

“Do you want me to join the others?”

Rodimus shook his head. “Not yet.”

Prowl accepted the brief answer and scanned the surroundings, then walked over to where the C-17 was still being unloaded. He and Captain Burns had had their differences already over how matters had been handled so far and Rodimus had to smile a little as he remembered Prowl’s complaints. Burns was an officer shaped by the experience of the past years, trained by Epps and, to some great part, by Lennox. It showed.

Prowl would blow a few more fuses until they could get their acts together.

Lieutenant Monash, their Australian liaison, had been shuttling back and forth between the new base and Perth. Blades had been his personal transport and while the Protectobot had complained that he was a taxi service, Rodimus had had little trouble with him. He had talked to him privately and laid out the facts. Either Blades followed orders and did his job, or he returned to Nevada.

Blades had chosen Australia.

Monash was expected back from Perth this evening and Rodimus had scheduled a briefing for the allied forces. He felt a little itchy. He wanted to be out there, too, looking for the apparent Decepticon forces, but he had a different job now. He was a Prime.

Feeling a sigh rise he suppressed it. His heritage had changed a lot for him, not all for the better. He actually missed Tony. He missed the snark and the wit and the long night hours of sitting in the workshop, watching him tinker, watching his agile mind come up with new and creative ways of executing a program or a design. He missed the banter, the verbal sparring… yeah, he missed the human. Things had quieted down around him in that regard; he was treated differently. Tony had had no such problems. Roddy was Roddy and he would never give him more respect than before, or less.

Damn, he was falling into one of those moods, he realized. Brooding and too much thinking going on.

“Rodimus Prime?”

The voice drew him out of his thoughts and he looked down at Captain Burns. “Yes, Captain?”

And it was back to military procedures, supply lists and organization. It kept his mind off other things, that was for sure.

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Aboard the Ark, Perceptor had started to feel a lot more at home than he had in the many different places of his life in the past millennia. With the near-destruction of Cybertron and the subsequent decline of the planet’s habital places, Perceptor hadn’t thought all too long about leaving. The prospect of finding his friends, of finding their leader who had gone missing so long ago together with the Allspark, had weighed more than the expectation of finding survivors among the ruins. Some had stayed back, believing in the survival, in rebuilding a dying world, but Perceptor knew the facts. He was logical about this.

The Allspark was gone. Without the Allspark there would be no more life, no more new sparks. The Allspark had sustained their home and with its absence, decline had set in – more rapidly due to the devastating effects of the final battles. Cybertron had burned, but Perceptor didn’t believe that anything new would rise from its ashes.

Wheeljack had been such a believer and it had been in one of the ruins that they had parted ways. Perceptor had joined Blaster, Jolt and Blade, and they had taken one of the few remaining, functional shuttles to look for Optimus Prime. Wheeljack had remained behind, taking care of the survivors, trying to rebuild a small haven of safety in the ruins of West Port.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts of the past, Perceptor concentrated on his task at hand. It felt good to work like this again, to ponder complicated mechanical and engineering problems, to see success and feel something other than fear of attacks or the need to rewire a weapon to blow up an enemy ship.

Sure, he was building a defense station, but not in a time of war and under pressure. This was a project he could be proud of.

There was a mutter that sounded like a curse in old Cybertronian and he briefly looked up, feeling a sliver of amusement as he watched Hook put the finishing touches to his own project. Mixmaster was towering behind him, looking like he wanted to strangle the other Constructicon as Hook berated him on how he had handled one of the programming glitches.

Perceptor had had little difficulty working with the five Constructicons. Like all new-arrivals he had been briefed on what had happened, how Scrapper’s team had come to work for the Autobots, and like almost all he knew the Constructicons from Cybertron’s past. He had met them a long time before Optimus had become the new Prime, before Megatron had been the Lord Protector. Perceptor had been very young back then, very impressionable, and he still remembered his awe.

That awe had remained and despite the fact that Scrapper and the others had suffered what humans would call brain damage due to Shockwave’s Modulator, they were still brilliant and far above every engineer or mechanic Perceptor knew. His own abilities were overshadowed by theirs, but he didn’t mind. It was a learning experience and he learned a lot.

The Ark had made progress in the past few days and was now running at eighty percent efficiency. The moment Perceptor was finished with the last connections he was working on and could start his program, the ninety percent level would be reached.

There was a hum from behind him, followed by the unmistakable crow of success from Hook. Perceptor looked over and had to bite back a smile as he saw Mixmaster’s smug expression.

“Told you,” the massive Constructicon said.

Hook gave him a baleful look, which glanced off the other mech, and demonstratively turned back to his station. Scavenger, who had just walked inside, looked amused. He came over to Perceptor, giving him a nod as a greeting.

“Scrapper just ran another check. Everything’s holding just fine. How are the satellites doing?”

“Fifty percent checked and in working order,” Perceptor replied. “Mr. Stark sent me a few more programs to look over. He is very… intense.”

Humans were a complicated riddle to Perceptor and his interaction with them had been minimal. Tony Stark was the one he most often talked to, mainly because of the Stark Industries satellite drones, and he had spoken to one or two soldiers at Nevada. That had been it. Inter-species communication wasn’t his strong point; he would rather spend all the time in his lab than make small talk with another species, allies or no allies.

“He thinks the same of you,” Scavenger replied easily. “Tony’s one of the few humans who understands our technology as well as we do, and he works with the hybrid systems almost exclusively. His understanding of the station is by far the most complete from all humans involved in the Ark project.”

Perceptor nodded. “I understand. I just wish he didn’t want to be informed of every small change I make to the drones.”

“They are his design, Perceptor. As scientists we understand how that can lead to proprietary feelings of that magnitude.”

Perceptor shifted a little. “Well, yes.”

“Just humor him sometimes. Don’t take everything too seriously.”

“Humans are hard for me to understand,” the Autobot confessed.

Scavenger chuckled. “I felt the same in the beginning. I have the advantage of years of email contact with Tony and spending a lot more time on this planet than all of you, Perceptor.”
Perceptor knew that, had to accept that. When he was done with what was required for him to do on the Ark he would have to delve deeper into getting to know their allies. For now the interaction was minimal and he could wing it, so to speak. Hopefully.

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At this time of the year Australia was a very hot affair, especially in the middle of the desert landscape, without air-conditioning or other amenities of 'civilization'. Shade was provided by the scraggly trees that grew in this area and throughout the midday heat there was hardly any visible life. Insects buzzed around, about the only sound audible right now. The rocky terrain with its small hills, crippled trees, rustling grass and hidden watering holes appeared like one of the most isolated and arid places on Earth.

Sideswipe had never felt so free, so at peace with himself, than the past weeks on the Australian continent.

Prowl's arrival four months ago had both closed a chapter and opened a new book. His twin brother was lost, but no one could confirm his death. It was hope. It was something he could live with, without destroying himself mentally. He had come to accept the situation and the fact that he couldn't change it, so he had volunteered for this mission. While Rodimus Prime was at the base, overlooking the final insertion into the world wide net of Autobot-human alliance and cooperation, he and Jolt were fine-combing the last area the Decepticons had been seen in.

Hunting Decepticons was liberating. It was what kept him going. It was his purpose. He and Sunstreaker had been the terror of the Autobot ranks. Not because of their pranks, but because of their ruthlessness when taking out the enemy. The pranks had been their way of letting go, unwinding, of connecting with the others - even if the others mostly wanted to off-line them for their antics.

Sideswipe watched the native animals in the distance, aware of the humans close by as they rested until the heat of midday was over. His own systems struggled with the merciless sun sometimes and he was glad they weren't bounding over the rough terrain any more. It was devastating to his chassis.

Jolt had talked to the humans' leader, who had in turn talked to his people as they met them on the road, and it was clear that the Decepticons were still around. There had been reports about strange lights in the desert and frightening noises. Two tour jeeps who had carted adventurous campers into the outback, had returned with very frightened men who had claimed they had seen a giant cat with glowing red eyes. By now, two days later, it was ridiculed as a prank, but one of the old men of the native Australians had spoken about more animal shapes, gigantic and frightening. Sideswipe had yet to really understand what the Aborigines meant with the Dreamtime, but apparently they believed the things in the desert were ancient spirits.

Decepticons were ancient compared to humans, but far from gods or spirits. Last night they had nearly had them, but the fraggers were fast. And they left little to no traces. Their human scouts weren't deterred by it.

"Any idea who we're chasing?" Sideswipe asked his fellow Autobot as Jolt approached.

"No. Animal shapes? Could be Soundwave's symbiotes, but who knows? Looks like whoever came here, they've been around for months. For what reason, no clue. They're trying to scare off the humans, but they never showed more of themselves. Sneaky."

"There's mines in the area," one of the humans said, looking up from his lunch, some kind of fire-roasted reptile.

“What kind of mines?” Jolt wanted to know.

“Rare earths and uranium. They were abandoned when the mines at Olympic Dam yielded more uranium. It’s hot and unpleasant most of the time, and in the past many men left after only a brief visit.” The man shrugged as if to say that this was the way it simply was. “Cost too much. The land is without mercy to the ill-prepared and the uranium too hard to mine. It’s easier to get to at Olympic Dam. Today we never go there. A big wound in the desert.”

Sideswipe had yet to understand the Aborigine culture, but they were very much connected to their believes and mysticism. For them, the planet was a living organism, which it was, in a way, and it suffered wounds from what humans did to it.

“How far to the mines?” he wanted to know.

“On foot, a day. With you, less,” the man, Natan, no ‘h’, Sideswipe remembered replied. “You want to go there, wait till dusk.”

Jolt didn’t look too happy about it, but he nodded his consent. Both mechs had learned to listen to their scouts. Temperatures were incredible this time of the year.

They settled down in the meager shade, their systems working hard to cool their cores, and they waited. The scouts were drowsing off, still alert, Sideswipe knew, but resting. He did the same, powering down redundant systems, and dozing a little.

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In a region beyond the planets of this solar system, known to human astronomers as the Kuiper belt, Soundwave stood on one of the numerous frozen objects that made up the belt, optics on the dwarf planet the humans called Pluto. An impressive sight to behold, the Decepticon communications specialist listened to the chatter of his symbiotes as they did their rounds, checking up on security and the progress of his project.

-- Replication unsuccessful --

He showed no reaction to the brief message. -- Switch to alternative design – he finally sent.

He was given a confirmation.

Something approached, a jet of Cybertronian design, and the mech transformed as he landed, inclining his head in a greeting.

“We’re almost done, Soundwave. You’re sure this’ll work?”

“Affirmative. Calculated rate of success: 95.976 %.”

The Seeker looked unconvinced. “This is old stuff. Really old stuff. We’re sticking together circuitry and hope it’s working. We could blow up the whole planetoid.”

The red visor shield met the equally red optics of the flyer. “We will proceed.”

The Seeker shrugged. “Sure. Your call. Just sayin’.”

With that he transformed and shot off.

Soundwave remained behind, linked into every symbiote as they were his eyes and ears throughout this area of space, around the construction sites, and on the moons of some of this solar system’s uninhabited planets.

There were too few Decepticons with him. Megatron’s forces had been scattered to the corners of the universe, some lost forever, some hiding, some reluctant to acknowledge Soundwave’s call. Those would be dealt with later. For now he had to make due with those who had come. A handful. Pitiful when compared to the troops under Megatron’s command millennia ago.

Soundwave wasn’t deterred, though. Those he could be assured were loyal he had put on the most delicate of tasks. The others were mere foot soldiers, used to bring the raw material needed.

Optics found the center piece of his master plan. If this worked, victory would soon be his. If this worked, Cybertron would be restored. Without the Allspark.

If he had been able to smile, he would have done so. Instead his visor band darkened and satisfaction spread through him. The Autobots wouldn’t be able to stop him.

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The mine was truly an out of the way spot, even for this remote location. The access roads were nothing but barely recognizable lines in the dust. The track they had taken was a graded, dirt road and although navigable by two-wheel drive vehicles in an emergency, a four-wheel drive was required. Some parts of the road were prone to severe corrugations, as their guides had told them, making for an uncomfortable and slow drive at times. Sideswipe had experienced that first hand when they had hit such a spot and he had cursed softly to himself.

The part of the country they were in consisted mostly of sandy plains. A lot of it was covered in spinifex grass, low acacias, some spindly grevilleas and other small trees, and lots of termite hills. In the distance were low ranges. The grass had reclaimed most of the ‘road’, with potholes and rocky obstacles a given. Sideswipe grumbled to himself, adjusting his shocks. He knew he should have listened to Jolt when the other mech had chosen a more sensible alt mode. Of course he could have reconfigured himself, but he hadn’t. He loved his sleek looks. Now the sleek looks were a pain in the diodes.

“Recent tracks,” Charles announced, studying scuffed marks on hard packed ground.

His fellow Aborigines nodded. One was further up ahead, binoculars against his eyes and scanning the mining site.

The site was a shallow indention in the ground that sloped sharply down after a few feet and disappeared from sight. From the rim there was a good view of the mine’s entrance, which was larger than it would have been if only humans used it. Someone had widened the hole and installed something like tracks, but clearly not for a human rail system.

“Can’t see anyone,” Sideswipe commented.

Natan walked over to them, barely kicking up any dust. “There is someone there. I can see it in the air.”

The two mechs exchanged brief looks.

“Explain,” Jolt then said.

“You can’t see it, but we can. Someone is in there, someone was here, and still is. The air is moving differently.”

It had to be something human, Sideswipe decided. At least something specific to these humans. The ones he had been in contact with hadn’t shown such abilities.

“We should take a look,” Jolt decided.

Sideswipe agreed. There was nothing on their scanners that suggested Decepticons near-by. They would have a look around, scout, slag the Cons who got in their way, and report back to Prowl.

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Rodimus had retreated back into the shade of the above-ground hangar that made up the Australian base so far, transformed into his alternate mode, and had accessed his messages. He was amused to find one from Tony.

How’s the Australian summer? Hot enough? it read. Looks like I got some time in my schedule to drop by for a little fun in the sun. Pepper’s been unable to fill my social calendar to the last second of every day while I’m forced on this horrendously superfluous presentation gig.

Rodimus chuckled to himself. Stark had spent the last week in Japan and the days before that in India. Stark Industries had a branch office in both countries and Tony had had to make an appearance because of several business matters. Rodimus, while no longer Stark’s guardian, was kept up to date on Tony’s schedule by Pepper. She had never taken him off the cc-list and Rodimus knew it wasn’t simply an oversight. She wanted him to know and he appreciated it.

I’ll drop by on our way home, Tony added to his email.

The new Prime checked the time stamps and found that it would be soon. Yes, it would be nice to see Tony again. He missed the easy days down in the workshop, watching the human work, listen to his mutters and complaints, talk to him, the easy banter…

Yes, it would be very nice. The presence of Decepticons in Australia wouldn’t stop Stark at all, so he didn’t even try that argument. He simply sent an affirmative, then informed Captain Burns, as well as Lieutenant Monash.

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Not even four hours later the Stark Industries private jet landed on the dusty, hard-packed desert ground and rolled to a stop outside the hangar. Rodimus watched in amusement as Tony sauntered down the stairs, lazily saluting the soldiers.

“Miss me?” the industrialist billionaire asked.

“Like cosmic rust,” he answered easily.

Tony grinned. “So I’m a disease?”

“Worse.”

“I knew you loved me.”

Rodimus just grinned back.

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The mining complex was gigantic. The main shaft had been built to accommodate a Cybertronian of average size and the maze of tunnels and access routes that must have been built to service the complex had been widened. Sideswipe carefully snuck deeper, gun ready, nodding at Jolt. There was no one here.

The humans were safely outside. He wouldn’t risk their lives on this recon mission. They were scouts, not Cybertronian warriors.

There was a noise from up ahead and they slowly approached an intersection with no sign of anyone around, but Sideswipe’s scanners told him that something was here.

Close.

"Down!" he yelled and shoved Jolt to the floor.

Something hit the wall behind them, turning it into a smoldering mass. Jolt’s head whipped around to stare at the wall, then back to the attackers. They looked like drones and exactly alike, bristling with weapons.

“Guard dogs,” he growled.

Sideswipe didn’t even hesitate to take them out. Their smoldering forms crashed to the dusty and rocky ground.

“Where there’s dogs, there’s something to guard,” Jolt muttered.

“So let’s have a look,” Sideswipe quipped, optics aglow.

They went deeper into the mine, weapons ready.

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“Nice,” Tony commented as he was led through the Australian base, which was still rather make-shift. “So this is where the next order goes to?”

Rodimus nodded. Stark Industries had become a major part of the Autobots’ bases, as well as AIDDE, and Stark not only supplied satellite surveillance systems, interfaces between human and Cybertronian tech, and spread the hybrid technology, mixing it more and more with Earth technologies. He had also given the arc reactor schematics to Optimus Prime personally. For the mechs the reactor in Tony’s chest was tiny, but it was immensely powerful. Ratchet had marveled at the ingenuity of it all and in the past he had often requested Tony’s cooperation on including this technology.

It had taken years and the building of a lot of trust until Tony had handed Prime the blueprints.

“Take care of this,” had been his only comment.

“I will,” had been the solemn promise.

Today the Ghosts ran on arc reactors and the power of the bases was relying on the clean energy source. Emergency back-ups consisted of human technology generators, as well as Cybertronian based ones, but the arc reactors were the primary power source.

“Enjoying your new post?” Tony asked when they were back outside.

“It could be worse,” Rodimus answered vaguely.

Stark grinned up at him. “Sucks to be Prime, huh?”

“Rodimus laughed. “Kinda. I enjoyed our time together a lot more.”

“That either makes me feel very good or like I’m the world greatest bore.”

“Take number one. It was never boring with you, Tony.”

“Don’t make me blush, Roddy.” The alert eyes looked around the desert landscape all around the base. “Heard you got trouble here.”

“You hear a lot.”

“Big ears.”

“Right…”

Tony smiled. “I’m in on this, Roddy. Like all of you. I get the memos. I get the mission briefings.”

“I know, Tony.”

“So?”

“You got the reports; you know all we know.”

That got Rodimus a sigh. “You’re still in baby-sitter mode, hm?”

Rodimus chuckled. “Can’t kick that habit with you. Must be your accident-prone nature.”

“Hardy har-har.”

“We don’t really know much,” the mech finally said. “Sideswipe and Jolt are on their trail, but they’re good and despite sightings at night through the humans here, there has been no direct contact.”

Tony was silent for a second, then gave his friend a brilliant smile. “Well, I’ve got some time to kill. What’s on offer for refreshment and recreation around here?”

Rodimus gave a good impression of rolling his optics.

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They had engaged the enemy. Sideswipe dodged several laser volleys.

"Rather dumb things, hm?" Jolt called as he took out another drone with his whips.

"Yes, but they make up missing intelligence with sheer numbers."

There were dozens of the attack drones, more flooding out of the mine shaft. Not all were built like the guard dogs. These looked like work drones. Heavily armed ones.

"Watch out!"

Sideswipe ducked to the left and evaded angry laser fire. One of his shots hit a drone’s face and the optics broke in a shower of red plastic. The drone staggered away, turning, and the Autobot fired again, this time hitting the bull’s eye. With a screech the back of the drone burst open and the mindless robot crashed to the ground, limbs twitching.

A sudden explosion rocked the corridor and Sideswipe was thrown back. His back hit the wall and his audios rang with the concussion of the blast. Optics unable to focus he desperately looked for his weapon, but his searching fingers didn’t find it.

“Sideswipe!”

A strong hand pulled him up.

“Jolt?” he asked dumbly.

“Yes, it’s me. Go! They’re blowing up the mine! Go!”

He didn’t question the words; he simply ran.

And they ran out of the frying pan into the fire; from a collapsing mine into the waiting arms of the Decepticons they had been chasing.

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-- Patterns stored --

-- Proceeding --

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Lennox had expected snow, but not eight feet of it piling left and right from the road. It was like driving through a tunnel of whiteness. They were the only ones who apparently came here this time of the year and he was glad Ron had reminded him to at least pack the basic foods. The small store in the tiny town where the road branched off to the cabins was closed. This wasn’t a ski area, nor any other kind of winter sports, and everyone had left. The main roads didn’t pass through the assortment of houses that made up the town in summer and people had simply closed up and packed for winter.

Good for them.

Ironhide had found that the winter wonderland was different than he had expected, and while it was more alien than everything else he had seen on the planet so far, it wasn’t bad. He hadn’t been to many snowy landscapes in his time on this planet. Will was too restricted in his movements, so simply driving anywhere required a lot more planning than Bumblebee taking Sam to a nice secluded spot, for example.

They had spent a lot of time in the snowy woods, followed by very nice and much longer moments in the cabin. Cabin wasn’t really a good word for the huge log building that had a garage that easily housed Ironhide. It was two stories tall, had a small storm cellar, a pantry that was surprisingly well-stocked just in case someone got snowed in, and an open fire place. While the coziness of a crackling fire was lost on Ironhide, he took his cues from Lennox, who liked to sit and watch the fire.

Ironhide, in his hardlight holoform, liked to watch Will in turn. He liked to translate the runes, watch the cosmic code, and he liked to trace the swirly lines. One thing led to another and neither minded the intense sharing sessions.

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His name was Razorclaw and he was a Cybertronian by origin, but he had long since cut his birth ties. Like his four fellow Predacons he no longer thought of Cybertron as his home, just a place where he knew every corner and sometimes came back to. Predacons were independent, fierce, for hire. They served no master but rather picked one – the one who paid the most or made the best offers.

Lately, after Megatron’s disappearance, work had been dull. Megatron, despite all his megalomanic tendencies, had made life very, very interesting – and full of rewards.

Razorclaw was a highly respected commander, with the utmost loyalty of his team, and his in return. The five of them had been working as one ever since their activation and their dependence wasn’t overshadowed by fear, terror or pain. The Predacon leader was patient, resourceful and sharp. He knew how to handle the four individuals under his command and he knew how to take their individual streaks.

Working for Soundwave had been more out of initial boredom and the prospect to scout on this strange world called Earth than anything else. Soundwave’s plans had sounded crazy, but also interesting, and after presenting the offer from the high-ranking Decepticon to his team, they had decided to risk it.

Anything was better than nothing to do.

That they had been more or less used as workers had made no difference. It helped even out the two more difficult to handle individuals, Tantrum and Headstrong, who usually felt more balanced with physical work, and Rampage had enjoyed his nightly scouting missions.

None of them had taken on true Earth alternate modes. In this desert they were hardly ever seen, if at all at night, and they had simply added to their Protoforms to be able to transform. All had chosen what the humans would probably call animal modes, though neither could really rely on faking an animal with the way they looked. More like futuristic metal beasts.

Razorclaw didn’t mind.

It had been only a matter of time until the Autobots discovered them and they had prepared for it. The mine had been put under guard by drones and would be destroyed should the Autobots get too close. Their own escape had been planned and was secured.

All according to plan.

Smiling to himself the Predacon leader turned to his team. “Let’s give them something to think about as a farewell present.”

Divebomb grinned cheerfully. “Gotcha.”

“And don’t play too long. We have a schedule to keep.”

The others nodded. All were itching to go up against an enemy, even if the enemy was simply two Autobots.

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Sideswipe picked himself out of the dust with a groan, wondering when a single Decepticon had managed to put on so much weight. And why was he still alive to think about that?

“Jolt?”

“Here,” was the muffled reply. “Preds! Damn, there’s all of them,” the mech grumbled.

All five Predacons. Hiding in the desert of Australia and not very much inclined to take out an Autobot, even if they had had a brief advantage. Sideswipe was suspicious of every Decepticon who didn’t take a chance to get rid of the enemy right away.

“Guess we disrupted their plans. They were in a hurry.”

Or they would’ve been slag in the desert.

The Aborigines were back, looking wary but determined. None was hurt, thankfully.

“They fled toward the desert,” their leader said calmly. “You want us to follow?”

“Slowly,” Jolt decided. “Could be a trap.”

Sideswipe opened a comm line to their base and reported to Rodimus.

“Predacons,” he told their Prime. “All five. They ran us over with sheer force, but they didn’t try to finish us off. Looks like whatever they are planning here, they want to get it done.”

“They headed toward Flat Hollow Junction,” one of their scouts told them. “We can easily follow.”

“It’s dangerous for you to confront them,” Prime cautioned them.

It got him a brief smile. “We don’t plan on getting seen.”

“I appreciate your help, Charles…”

The Aborigine in question shrugged. “No troubles.”

“Now that we know who they are, we have to be doubly cautious,” Rodimus told the two Autobots. “Stay with Charles and his scouts. Don’t engage them again. Find out what they are here for.”

“We will, Prime.”

“We hear ya,” Sideswipe replied. “But if they’re running, we need to find out where and what they’re hiding.”

“I know, Sideswipe. Be careful.”

Rodimus signed off and Jolt transformed, letting their scouts into the car mode.

“He’s got the worry part down,” Sideswipe chuckled.

“Think it’s hereditary?”

“Hot Rod wasn’t a worry wart.”

“He never had the responsibility for anyone either,” Jolt added thoughtfully as they followed the Predacons’ trail.

“Yeah,” Sideswipe agreed. Then he concentrated on their mission once more.

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Soundwave checked the last settings, pleased with the outcome. He turned part of his attention to the incoming call and stopped only a nano-second when the caller ID was confirmed.

“Report,” he said emotionlessly.

“They found us, Soundwave,” Razorclaw said, sounding rather calm about that fact.

“Proceed as planned.”

“We still got one load.”

Soundwave entered several commands and watched the energy field stabilize. He calculated the risk of the Predacons getting caught against the loss of the uranium.

“Proceed as planned,” he finally repeated.

“Understood. Razorclaw out.”

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Keeping a low profile, staying back as far as they could, Jolt and Sideswipe followed the trail of the Predacons, their human guides riding in their cabs. After about an hour the scan signals suddenly disappeared. Charles and his men got out, looking around the dusty plains, carefully walking through the grass.

“They are heading back,” Charles suddenly announced, looking up from the clear tracks in the dust.

“Back? To the mine?”

The man nodded. “There are also less tracks. I suspect this was a decoy.”

Jolt growled. “Great! They multiplied their signals and led us away.”

Sideswipe rumbled in shared anger. They gave their scouts a few more minutes to be sure of their findings, then Jolt shook his head.

“We split up. Sideswipe, you go back to the mine, see if they’re there. I’ll make a wide circle, see if I can pick up something again. Anything suspicious, call me right away.”

“Gotcha.”

Natan and another guide went with Sideswipe, Charles and the fourth stayed with Jolt.

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The call from Sideswipe and Jolt had come in as Rodimus was talking to Lieutenant Monash. The news about who the enemy was had stunned him because he would have expected a lot of Cons, but not Preds. His own experience with this breed of Cybertronian warriors was small, almost non-existent. The Predacons weren’t front-line canon fodder. They were strong but with a quick mind to match their strength, and Megatron had always known where to use them. That they weren’t as singularly devoted to the Decepticon cause as others had never played much into Megatron’s plans. As long as Razorclaw got what he wanted, he served any master.

“Jolt and Sideswipe have found the enemy,” Rodimus told Monash, then added the coordinates.

Monash frowned. “That’s five hundred kilometers north of here, in the middle of the desert. We can airlift you, Prime. We have a C-17 standing by.”

He shook his head. “I’m faster on wheels.”

Monash frowned more. “We’re talking about desert tracks, Prime.”

“And we’re talking about me, not a standard drive.” Rodimus smiled. “Trust me, Lieutenant, I’ve been racing very different roads in the past. I can handle it.”

Monash frowned. “I doubt it, sir. The Australian Outback is harsh territory. You’d be faster if we drop you off and you go the rest by wheels.”

Rodimus hesitated for a moment before nodding. “All right.”

Monash immediately contacted the pilots to scramble. “Ten minutes,” he then told Rodimus. “E-3 Sentry is up in the air and ready to relay data.”

“Understood. Don’t engage enemy targets, Lieutenant.”

Monash nodded briskly. “Listen and relay. Understood, sir. The men have their orders.”

“The Predacons are dangerous, Monash. Very dangerous. They aren’t worker drones and they aren’t stupid. If they were sent here to mine it was for a reason.” Rodimus felt worry rise. He had to talk to Optimus.

He walked toward the waiting C-17 and transformed, driving inside. If Rodimus would have been physically able to, he would have rolled his eyes.

Typical! he thought as he bounced over the hard-packed earth. Tony Stark never goes anywhere without his armor!

For some reason seeing Iron Man in the wide loading bay wasn’t all that surprising. He was more surprised by how quickly Tony had put on the suit.

“Don’t even try to argue with me, Roddy, you’ll lose anyway.” Iron Man’s eye slits glowed a cold white-blue.

“I wouldn’t even try,” the young Prime answered dryly. “You really do have big ears.”

It got him a shrug.

The C-17’s engines got louder and the crew was closing the loading bay doors.

Rodimus only said “Settle in,” as he was strapped down by the soldiers for take-off.

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“They have a ship!” Sideswipe whispered harshly. “Damn!”

Keeping low, hidden behind several rock formations, the Autobot stared at the object of his anger. The shuttle was big and clearly had been refurbished to serve as a cargo transporter. It was a muddy brown-gray, looked rather banged-up, and it was armed. Sideswipe threw open the comm lines and called not only Jolt but also Rodimus Prime.

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Aboard the E-3 Sentry, controller Henry Hoffman received the call and immediately relayed it to the C-17 that was closing in on their position.

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Jolt couldn’t believe it that they had fallen for the decoy. He angrily sped across the desert. He wasn’t far from the mine and he would be there in a few minutes. He had left the two humans behind. They had reassured him that they would be fine. This was their land, their home, they would be okay.

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“Rodimus,” Prowl could be heard over the comm. lines. “Please rethink this.”

Aboard the C-17 the young Prime tried to reign in his annoyance. “No. You stay where you are, Prowl.”

“I must object.” The tactician sounded highly uncomfortable and about ready to argue again, but Rodimus cut him off.

“Being a Prime doesn’t exclude me from fights, Prowl. It never excluded Optimus and it won’t exclude me. Get the message back to Nevada that we found the Decepticons, but you’re not coming along. If this is a ruse and someone attacks this base, the humans won’t be able to defend themselves.”

Prowl’s tone was stony. “Yes, sir,” he answered tersely.

Rodimus briefly sighed. He would have to deal with this later. The Autobots had accepted his new designation, his heritage, but it didn’t mean some of the older ones didn’t try and baby him. He smiled a little to himself. Tony always accused him of doing the same. Yeah, well, it happened to Rodimus, too.

“One minute till drop down,” one of the crew men announced.

The bay doors were already lowered and the wind whipped through the loading compartment. Next to Rodimus, who was still in car mode, stood Iron Man.

::Trouble?:: Tony asked via Extremis.

::No::

::Liar. Prowl is being a hard ass, right?::

::I know he worries and he wants to be here, but I need someone back at the base just in case::

::You don’t have to tell me. I know. I concur, actually:: Tony answered as he checked his systems for the last time.

“Twenty seconds,” the announcement rang through the cargo bay.

Two soldiers released Rodimus from the safety harness that had strapped him down. He started his engine and rolled toward the doors.

“Ten,” the countdown started.

Tony launched his systems and walked over to the ramp, jumping at the count of zero. Rodimus followed, shooting out of the C-17. Parachutes opened as he dropped down, then he released them and transformed. His speed was still high, but he impacted with the ground with no more than a slight shock to his systems. The Audi R8 immediately transformed.

Dust flew up around him as he accelerated. Tony had already disappeared and his speed was a lot faster than the ground speed Rodimus was capable of. The Autobot was much faster than the Audi R8 he had taken as an alt mode, but still too slow compared to someone flying; someone powered by the arc reactor.

So now Rodimus Prime was following a golden-red streak into what hopefully wouldn’t turn out to be a fully-fledged fight, because there was no telling how much of a chance Iron Man stood against Decepticons.

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The goal was to keep the shuttle on the ground, but Jolt was aware how slim a chance he actually had to do it. He glanced at Sideswipe, who looked equally furious about the ruse and their discovery.

“We have to stop them from leaving,” Sideswipe hissed.

“Yeah.”

The silver mech unsheathed his swords. “We might not be able to keep them down for long, but we can at least try.”

Jolt smiled darkly. “Hey, we’re the best, right?”

Sideswipe laughed. “The best of the best. Aim for the engines and the control.”

Jolt grinned, flexing his fingers, then activated both whips. All they got was a warning wail from the proximity sensors and they ducked.

“Slag!” Jolt hissed, ducking and evading a blast from what looked like a very oversized bull.

Apparently the Predacons were ready to rumble before leaving the planet, too. Well, all the better!

Sideswipe charged his weapon and grinned. “Let the fun begin.”

Jolt briefly scanned for the two humans who had been with Sideswipe, who had all but disappeared Cybertron only knew where to. Those natives were fast!

Rock exploded to their left and both mechs ducked.

Sideswipe’s optics lit up with an old fire and he returned the shots. His spark pulsed and he suddenly felt alive again. It was like the good old times: shoot Deceptiscum and try not to get hurt.

Comm lines were scrambled and they hadn’t been able to get word out again.

A missile screamed at him and he ducked, shielding his optics, as it blew up his cover. Transforming, he raced away, scanners picking up two pursuers. One in the air, one on the ground.

He grinned almost madly.

Oh yeah, just like old times.

Transforming in mid-speeding he whipped out his battle-swords and turned to face the enemy.

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Iron Man didn’t have to ask who the enemy was. For one, they outnumbered the only two Autobots five to two. Second, the Decepticon symbol was clear to see. He didn’t ask for permission. He simply chose a target and got into the brawl.

::Roddy? Five targets, all Decepticons:: he sent, using Extremis. He added images of the vicious looking beasts that only barely resembled Earth animals.

Then he launched a barrage of missiles at what probably had been meant to be a lion.

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Jolt jumped out of the way, rolling around and coming up behind Headstrong. He tried to tackle the Predacon, but the Decepticon was faster. He slammed his elbow into Jolt's mid-section and then kicked the legs out from under him. Jolt wasn’t easily kept down and he wouldn’t be bested by Deceptiscum just like that. He grabbed a boulder and slammed it into Headstrong’s head.

The Predacon rocked back, cursing, and Jolt grabbed his weapon. Before he could aim properly, his opponent had transformed and was fleeing.

He still fired after him, pleased to notice that one of his shots clipped a leg and the Predacon stumbled and crashed.

Something slammed into Jolt and his damage reports flared. He was thrown to the ground, rolled around, trying to find the enemy, and found it in the sky. He raised his weapon and fired at Divebomb. The Predacon evaded, but another one took his place; this one on the ground. Jolt transformed and raced off.

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Rodimus knew he would regret driving like a maniac, but it had been the only way to reach the battle field in time. The barely perceptible road had taken its toll and he was coated in a lot of dust, but he didn’t care about anything but getting to his scouts in time.

When the message from Tony came in he added a few more mph to his speed.

“ETA twenty seconds,” he responded to Tony’s message.

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The fight was hard, fast and no one held back. Iron Man was in his element, using all his skill, all his training, and what Extremis gave him to evade attacks and in turn try to hit the enemy. He was very much occupied with the only flyer of the five Predacons and the guy was good. Really good!

But Iron Man was good, too. Actually, he was better.

Tony grinned wildly behind his mask. Yeah, he could beat the flying piece of scrap metal.

Evade. Duck. Aim. Shoot.

Easy. No challenge at all.

Something clipped him and he was jolted out of his emotional high and back to reality. While it was simply a gracing shot, the power behind it had Iron Man tumble. He snarled a curse, rerouted systems.

“Jarvis!”

“I am working on it, sir.”

He quickly launched a distraction, then shot up into the sky.

The Predacon stayed hot on his trail.

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On the ground Rodimus Prime cursed fluently as he watched Iron Man heading quickly for the outer atmosphere. Kup would be so proud that the ‘kid’ had learned at least some things from him.

Then the battle demanded all his attention once more.

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Razorclaw snarled angrily and ducked away from the Autobot called Sideswipe, then opened a line to all Predacons.

“Retreat. Immobilize the prey and go!”

He received an affirmative.

It was time to get the show on the road. They couldn’t play for much longer. From the satisfaction he saw in Rampage’s optics he knew the fighting had done its job.

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Iron Man knew when the tables turned and Tony suddenly realized that the vulture thing chasing him had simply been playing. Winged cat, arc reactor powered mouse.

“Oh hell!” he hissed and was just quick enough to get out of the way of a missile.

It had been what the Decepticon had wanted, he thought coldly when Divebomb came right at him.
He couldn’t evade.

The impact made him scream and lose control, tumbling. Extremis worked overtime to keep Iron Man from simply plummeting to the ground and he knew Jarvis was trying to keep them in the air, too, but in the end it wasn’t enough.

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Tantrum had a lot more body mass and Rampage was fast, and between them they managed to wrestle Sideswipe to the ground. Tantrum’s blow to the head and the blast from Rampage’s gun stunned Sideswipe and he felt his systems glitch badly, sparks and tiny, quickly controlled system fires making him groan in pain.

Instead of some final blow or trying to at least off-line him for a good long time, nothing else happened. Through weakly flickering optics Sideswipe scanned for the enemy, but he found no trace. They had over-powered him and left.

They had stopped playing, part of Sideswipe thought. Slaggit! This hadn’t been more than a game for the Predacons!

Hauling himself to his feet, Sideswipe almost collapsed again. Part of him laughed hysterically at the fact that he was still alive, that this hadn’t been a serious battle. Another was fuming at his own incompetence.

“Jolt?” he finally sent.

He got no reply.

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Rodimus Prime surveyed the battle field, his own armor riddled with evidence of a furious fight. He had managed to keep Razorclaw at bay, but it had been close. And suddenly the Predacons had retreated.

The ship had fired up and Rodimus had finally realized that one of the five had gone missing, had used the individual battles to prepare for take-off.

And we fell for it! he thought angrily.

He saw Jolt pick himself out of the dust, clearly run over by the Predacons as well, and his optics flared as he saw the shuttle. Rodimus felt his spark stutter when Divebomb shot toward the rising transporter, entered the ship through the still open loading bay, and then the ship gained speed.

::Tony?:: he sent, using his access point to the Extremis.

He got no reply.

Great! Just slagging, fucking great! But first things first.

He contacted their Eye in the Sky.

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Crashing wasn’t always the same.

There was the uncontrolled crash. He had had those before.

There was the controlled crash. Well, not so often before.

There was the forced landing crash. Those were far and few. Usually he managed to speed away.
And there was the crash because several tons of metal were pushing him down. This time had been a first.

Then again, he had never fought against what looked like the techno version of a very ugly specimen of the vulture family. It had been the size of a SUV, with wings and some weird tail-like attachment that it had readily used to batter against his armor in hopes of cracking it. The red optics hadn’t been as unnerving as the sharp claws and serrated wing edge.

Yes, Tony Stark thought as he lay on the ground and stared into the sky, crashing wasn’t always the same as before. There were so many variations to it. It was actually an art.

This time he had really done it. His armor was scrap and he had lost contact to just about everyone. Even Jarvis. The damage to the Iron Man armor had to be very bad then. He was reluctant to employ Extremis. Just trying to access the artificial enhancement was painful. He had stressed it too much and was now paying the price.

At least he had given back some of the shots he had received. He just loved his new and improved sabot missiles. He could only carry two because they were heavy, but they were a last-ditch defense mechanism and they worked. At least when he hit the enemy where it hurt.

Tony sighed and attempted to get up. The armor weighed him down and the pain in his body did the rest. He knew he would be colorfully bruised soon. Not to mention scrapes and cuts and whatnot.

Fun.

Not.

With an effort he was finally up and he wrestled the helmet open to breathe more easily. The sun was burning down on him and aside from flies and sand fleas, there was no life around. It had probably been scared away by the vicious fighting and the crash.

With another sigh he turned to scan the landscape.

Sand, dry grass, gnarled trees. Great. Sooner or later the wildlife might get interested in him. He didn’t plan on getting molested by some misguided dingo.

There was a sudden noise and then wind whipped up the sand around him. Tony looked up, shielding his eyes, and laughed. Above him hovered a Chinook helicopter with an Autobot sigil and AIDDE’s markings.

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-- Signature stabilized --

-- Terminal positions affirmed --

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In the short time he had spent on this new planet, well, mostly in its orbit, Blaster had come to love all of Earth’s music. It was a vibrant tune, whoever had composed it, whoever played it, whatever it expressed. Blaster had quickly adapted to the humans’ communication devices and different systems, as well as the already wide-spread hybrid technology. Unlike Perceptor who had taken up position inside the Ark and was handling matters there, Blaster had taken on a less human disguise – he had transformed into a satellite to blend in with the humans’ devices already in orbit. Like a spider in the middle of a very active net he floated above the blue planet, watching, listening, waiting.

The Stark Industries design spoke of Cybertronian influence and the hybrid technology allowed the mech to easily interface without manipulating too much of the alien technology. It almost felt like home, he mused with a little pang.

A home he had had to leave. A home where he had had the same status as he had here, but a place he had truly known. Earth was new, exciting, exotic, but also alien and a reminder of what had happened to his own planet.

But Blaster wouldn’t be Blaster if he couldn’t push away the darkness and find the joy.

Unlike the Decepticon’s communications specialist Soundwave, Blaster was a lot more outgoing, emotional, exuberant, and he loved running different waves through his systems. It was a thrill to feel music, not just hear it. He saw and touched the waves of sound and the little blips of communication among the natives of the planet, and his spark glowed with his love for all of it. Like Jazz loved music, Blaster was in love with radio waves of all kinds.

Where Soundwave had apparently cut himself off from emotions and everything Blaster called fun, Blaster embraced his nature. He was a communicator and always in the middle of things, be it a battle or a party. Like Soundwave he had symbiotes. Not as many, but just as specialized. Without the Allspark there was no life and symbiotes usually were drones, but Blaster had worked around that. Yes, the symbiotes had been drones in the beginning, but each of them had a little piece of his spark matter, were a little piece of him. Children, a human would call it, without the need for biological procreation. Their link was intense and their loyalty unbroken. They were individuals with separate personalities.

There had been a time Blaster had admired Soundwave. The mech was a lot older than him and he seemed to connect to the world in a very different way. There was something smooth and sophisticated about how he did things, how he inserted himself into a network without raising alarms, how he connected. It was like Soundwave belonged. When Blaster had heard rumors about the other mech being able to access cyberspace he had been so incredibly jealous. He had tried to learn, had tried to even talk to Soundwave – before the war, of course – but there was a barrier between them Blaster had been unable to breach. Soundwave lived in a different world, in cyberspace, and his cold, logical thinking was almost scary.

With the beginning of the war, Blaster had been shocked to hear that the other had joined Megatron, but then again, it had been so clear that he would. He had served the Lord Protector since Megatron had risen to that position, and he would so until his deactivation.

The call from Rodimus Prime drew him out of his musings.

“This is Blaster blasting,” he called jovially. “What’s up, Prime?”

“We have Decepticon activity in north-west Australia,” Rodimus told him, relaying exact coordinates as he spoke. “Track them, Blaster. There’s a shuttle just now clearing Earth’s atmosphere. I want to know where it’s going.”

“Gotcha.”

Adjusting his position, scanners on full, the communicator immediately picked up the shielded space shuttle. It was a cargo ship, he determined. Big but rather fast, and it was heading toward the edge of the solar system at full speed. How AIDDE and Optimus were going to hide that much traffic from the humans was anyone’s guess. Australia wasn’t that remote.

As it passed the camouflaged Autobot, Blaster launched two symbiotes. Eject and Rewind acknowledged their mission and shot off, both in their raw modes. Like Blaster they hadn’t seen the need for camouflage as of yet.

Comm lines were established and Blaster grinned to himself.

“Let’s see where you’re heading in such a hurry.”

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Predacons on Earth. Optimus Prime didn’t know whether he could classify this as ‘worst case’ or ‘expected trouble’. Predacons were Decepticons by wide affiliation. Unlike many of Megatron’s troops they hadn’t joined him right away. The Predacons were a group of vicious but highly intelligent mercenaries for hire. They worked for whoever paid them enough. They weren’t swayed to another side by ethics alone, or empty promises. Those who had tried that were either dead or alive minus a few limbs. There had always been rumors that they were able to combine into a massive fighting machine, but no one had ever witnessed it. With the combiner experiments so close to failure when it came to the fusion of five to six individuals into one mind, there had been only a few who had believed into the rumors.

Even today nothing had been proven.

Now the Predacons had been on Earth, apparently for months, and had worked for the Decepticons. Prowl, Sideswipe and Jolt had gone back into the mine and had reported back that the mining operation hadn’t been recent. The uranium collected would amount to a lot.

For what purpose?

Optimus drummed his fingers against his thigh, then caught himself.

Jolt and Sideswipe would stay at the mine together with their allies, while Prowl was on his way back to base, accompanying Rodimus and a banged up Iron Man.

Making a decision he recalled Ironhide and Will.

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Tony didn’t know what disturbed him more, the fact that Rodimus Prime hadn’t yelled at him or that Pepper had. He knew he deserved it, though he would never say it out loud, and he had expected a dressing down, some harsh words and a few dark looks, but Rodimus had been downright pleasant. Controlled and civil.

It was creepy.

The mech who usually told Tony in no uncertain terms that what he was doing, wanted to do or had done was idiotic hadn’t said a word about his stunt.

“Okay, stop it!”

Tony stared at the Audi with a mix of anger, annoyance and exasperation.

“Stop what?” Rodimus asked calmly.

“Stop with the silent treatment! I know you want to rant, so do it!”

“Why would I want to rant?”

“Because of what I did. You want to yell at me, tell me I’m an idiot, and you better do it before you have pump failure.”

Rodimus smiled. The drive back had been spent in complete silence on his side. Tony had moaned and bitched over his armor.

“Don’t worry. My energon pumps are just fine.”

Tony glared murderously at him.

“You were the one always complaining about my ‘mothering’, I quote. You’re all grown up and it was your decision,” Rodimus continued, a fine smile of amusement in his voice.

“Guy turns out to be a Prime and suddenly he gets all high and mighty!” Tony snorted. “I think I liked you better when you mother-henned me.”

Rodimus chuckled. “I’ll memorize that for the rest of my existence, Tony.”

“Memorize all you want! But at least you cared!”

“I still care. Don’t doubt that. But you handled yourself commendably.”

Tony smirked. “Yep. I did. Pretty cool, huh? I knew the new missiles would work.”

“You so did not, show-off.”

“Did, too!”

“Not.”

“Too!”

And they were back to their old, very familiar banter. Rodimus smiled, feeling good. From the sparkle in Tony’s eyes, so did he.

“Prime, sir?”

Rodimus turned and looked down at the man in the Australian Defense Force uniform, Lieutenant Cary Monash. He had come over and was now nodding respectfully at Stark.

“We received word from General Morshower. He requests an update. One I couldn’t fully give him, sir.”

Rodimus nodded. “I’ll talk to him,” he replied evenly.

Monash looked almost relieved, but he hid it well.

“Military politics,” Tony commented. “I’m off. I hear a shower calling my name.”

He waved and stalked over to his private jet.

Rodimus walked back into the hangar, which was still very much in the process of becoming a true base, and toward the raised com center. One of the techs nodded and activated the secure link to Morshower. The call was immediately branched out and routed through the Ark’s command center and relayed to Nevada where Optimus was listening in as well.

“Rodimus Prime,” the general greeted him. “What’s the situation?”

“The Predacons have left Earth. The mine has been secured,” the young Prime answered. “I have Sideswipe and Jolt there as guards. The uranium mined can only be estimated, but it amounts to several times the amount mined on this planet – by all countries. They dug deeper than humans ever could, unearthing the uranium deep down in the crust of your planet.”

Morshower’s lips were a thin line. “Any idea what for?”

“Not really. At least so far.”

“Why Earth?” Morshower insisted. “There are more planets in this solar system with raw materials. Not to mention asteroids.”

“I might be able to answer that,” Perceptor spoke up. “We don't know the composition of the asteroids or the objects in what your scientists call the Oort comet cloud or the Kuiper belt in great detail. One theory of solar system formation is that there are more metals in the inner solar system. That would mean most of the uranium is on Mars, Mercury, Earth Venus and the asteroid belt. There is an estimated forty trillion tons of uranium and one hundred twenty trillion tons of thorium in the Earth's crust. Most of that uranium is concentrated in the continental crust. The mantel has lower concentration of uranium, but there is a lot of mantel.”

Rodimus felt his systems already go into stall mode. Once Perceptor was let loose, things just… went wild in scientific terms.

“The solar heavy-metal abundances are typically measured both using spectroscopy of the Sun's photosphere and by measuring abundances in meteorites that have never been heated to melting temperatures. These meteorites are thought to retain the composition of the protostellar Sun and thus not affected by settling of heavy elements. The two methods generally agree well. Meteors tend to only have 0.008 parts per million in uranium. The Sun is 332,830 earth masses. So if the Sun was eight parts per billion uranium, then there are point two-seven percent of an earth mass of uranium in the Sun. There is an estimate by Earth institutes that
point zero one eight atoms of uranium out of every thirty billion atoms in the solar system…”

“What the Autobot is trying to say,” Hook interrupted, sounding annoyed to the nth degree, “is that it’s easier for the Preds to get what they want or need on Earth. Humans have already opened mines and prepared the way. All they had to do is either steal or use drones to scavenge.”

Morshower looked relieved that someone had interrupted Perceptor and Rodimus hid a smile.

“There definitely is a lot of metal-like iron and platinum in the asteroids,” Scrapper continued, “and we could acquire it, but uranium is another matter. Since the Predacons were only focused on that element of your planet, they probably had specific orders to get uranium. As Hook said, they made it easy for themselves and raided pre-existing mines.”

“And it’s possible they went after something else, too,” Morshower concluded.

Rodimus nodded. “Yes, though what is hard to determine. It might be in Australia, it might be somewhere else. We don’t know how long they have been on Earth and we don’t know if their forms changed. Lieutenant Monash and Captain Burns have been looking into more folkloristic tales, sightings of any kind, strange noises and so on, but so far it was a relatively isolated occurrence in this corner of Australia.”

“A big corner,” Morshower commented.

Rodimus nodded. For humans, the square miles that added up to the radius of operation for the Predacons was huge. For a mech it was only to be expected.

“So we think we know what they came for, but not why. And we have no idea how long the Predacons were on Earth or what else they carted off to God knows where,” Morshower concluded, looking decidedly unhappy.

Rodimus understood the frustration. “For now,” he said. “Blaster has his spies on the shuttle. It’s a short distance transport ship. Wherever it is heading, we will know soon.”

“I hope so. There are a lot of people who aren’t happy with the situation.”

The younger Prime smiled tightly. “You can bet on that.”

“You think there are more on Earth?”

Rodimus was silent for a moment. “We don’t know,” he finally answered slowly. “Since we do not know why they mined uranium I can’t foretell if there might be more, but considering the risk they took, how openly they worked, we could be looking at more Decepticons. Something is happening, General, but we don’t know what.”

“I was afraid of that,” Morshower muttered. “You said Predacons work for others, for the highest bidder? Who’s the one pulling their strings?”

The mech considered the question for a moment. “It has to be a powerful Decepticon with access to either refined energon or valuable metals as payment. There are several among Megatron’s forces.”

“Soundwave,” Scrapper said quietly.

Rodimus nodded. “Possible.”

Because they had yet to make certain that the communications specialist had truly given up. Knowing Soundwave, he wouldn’t just turn and leave Earth alone. Not if there was a chance that he might get to Will and with him he could ascertain his rule over the scattered Decepticon forces.

Morshower didn’t look happy, but news like that weren’t reason to be happy anyway.

“Keep me informed.”

“Of course, general.”

And then communication was terminated. Rodimus turned to Monash, who almost stood to attention. The mech had noticed the humans’ tendency to do that in his presence and only those who had been with the core team right from the start or had worked with the Autobots for a while lost that ingrained behavior.

“Until we get word back from Blaster there is nothing we can do,” he told the lieutenant.

“Except help secure the mine, sir?”

Rodimus smiled and nodded. “Beats twiddling your thumbs?”

Monash smiled before he caught himself. He made an aborted move as if to salute, shooting Rodimus a semi-sheepish look. Yes, he was military and he was getting a handle on the whole ‘alien mechanoid life forms’ thing, but not on his trained responses. The Autobot hid a smile and simply walked outside.

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It was on the second day of their vacation that a message from Optimus interrupted the privacy. Lennox frowned. If Prime called, it was important. It might even be more than important and more along the lines of urgent. The way Ironhide’s optics flared and the curse following the brief message were indication enough.

“What happened?” Lennox asked, voice clipped and very military.

“Sideswipe and Jolt encountered five Predacons in Australia. They fled in a ship, which they apparently used to mine and then shuttle uranium to an unknown location. Blaster has sent two of his symbiotes after the ship.”

Lennox nodded briskly and went back into the cabin to retrieve his things. He didn’t need to be told what that meant. He knew it.



The black Topkick shot along the deserted snowy roads at a speed unwise for any Earth vehicle. Will simply hung on, not the least bit worried about his safety.

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Fifteen hours after the shuttle’s flight from Earth Blaster alerted the Autobot base to incoming transmissions. Both Eject and Rewind had remained undetected and Blaster had sent Steeljaw, Ramhorn, Noise and Graphy out to function as relay stations for their fellow symbiotes, as well as be close enough just in case something happened.

The image wasn’t the best resolution, but even at this level it was clear that whatever was going on, it was massive. At a distance of several hundred kilometers huge, round dishes had been constructed in space. Their dull gray and black metal was riddled with small holes and there were spikes protruding from the rims. There were at least a dozen of the dishes, all aligned to form a rough circle the size of a small planet. In the middle of each was a pillar that ended in a crystalline knob.

Ironhide bit back a curse as he looked at the grainy but still coherent image transmitted by the symbiotes. He and Will had arrived not much earlier, and Lennox had immediately gone to Epps for an update on the situation.

“A space bridge,” Ratchet managed. “That’s… impossible!”


“What’s a space bridge?” Sam asked, intrigued.

“It’s old technology, from the Ancients. It was lost to us as we grew, like so many things,” Optimus said quietly. “The space bridge works as a portal between two places. We only know of it from the archives. In early uses of the space bridge, the dimensional portal could only remain open and stable for a maximum of eleven minutes. Travel likewise proved somewhat unstable. There were apparently immense losses. Scientists of later generations tried to copy the technology, with equally devastating effects. They tried to turn it into personal portal devices, but the energy consumption rate killed that idea, too. As well as several mechs.”

“Wow,” Sam muttered. “And now someone’s trying to build one in our solar system?”

“Near the planetoid you call Pluto,” Ratchet agreed. “From the images and the scarce data it seems the project has progressed rather far already.”

“But if it never worked… why would they try it?”

Ironhide rumbled dangerously. “There’s a plan behind it and a logical mind.”

“Soundwave?”

The blue optics flashed dangerously. “Most likely. He disappeared, but he didn’t go very far.”

“Look at the size of that thing,” Will spoke up for the first time.

His runes had grown lively now and there was a tension in his frame that spoke of his state of mind. Soundwave meant no good news for anyone, but least of all for him.

Prime’s expression was serious. “We need to stop this,” he decided. “Soundwave exploited this planet’s resources to build a space bridge, functional or not. He wouldn’t put this much effort into a project if he didn’t deem it viable.”

“You wanna blow it up?” Ironhide asked, flexing his hands. The cannons on his arms hummed ominously.

Optimus nodded slowly. “We need to find a way to get close without detection. And fast.”

“If we can’t creep up on them, we just storm the site and shoot it apart.”

“I doubt it’s that easy, Ironhide. I’m calling a meeting on this. AIDDE has to know. The humans are involved and we need their assistance to launch this mission.”

Ironhide rumbled again, but his partner only nodded sharply.

“On it,” Will answered. “I’ll talk to Morshower.”

“We can’t send up either of the Ghosts, Prime,” Ratchet argued. “The humans are too vulnerable.”

“I think that’s the decision of the crews,” Lennox told him, voice hard.

“We can’t sacrifice human lives!”

The dark eyes were even harder now. “This is our world, our solar system, Ratchet. If the military decides to man the Ghosts, you can’t keep the crews from doing their job.”

“Will…”

“Will is right,” Optimus interrupted calmly. “The humans are our allies. They have fought for us and with us already. We trained them and they are well aware of the risks.”

Lennox nodded to emphasize the words. “We’re all into this, Ratchet. All the time.”

“Conference call, fifteen minutes,” Optimus decided. “Will?”

The hybrid was already on his cell phone and nodded at Prime that he had Morshower personally. The Autobot leader strode toward his office, followed by his core officers and two humans.

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-- Disconnect terminal gates --

-- Terminal gates disconnected --

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Major Michael Bowman stood in his sparsely furnished apartment on base, looking around the rooms he had lived in for so many years – and acquired so little memorabilia. As a soldier he had learned early on that you could only take so much with you as you were moved from base to base, from country to country, and even to another continent altogether. He had always packed lightly and claimed that what he wanted to remember was in his head.

It was true.

Bowman had never married, his last relationship had lasted only a few months, and he had enjoyed the single life ever since. Between his assignment as liaison to the Autobots and later his involvement into so many operations there had been little time for personal life. Add WiFi to the equation and it was even harder to get a date. Of course he could have looked among those who were in on the whole alien secrecy thing, but for one there was the fraternization problem and second, when you broke up it would impact on stuff. Big stuff.

So no, he liked to keep it casual when he was off base and not get involved into anything lasting.

A soft warble drew him out of his thoughts and he smiled at his companion. “I’m done,” he announced.

There had been little to do. In a way it felt like he wouldn’t return, but this wasn’t a suicide mission. They were expected back in one piece. All of them.

WiFi scurried up his arm and drummed tiny forelegs onto his shoulder, warbling more. The Nokia would come along and Bowman hadn’t even tried to argue. He knew the mech too well. Where he went, WiFi did, too.

“Let’s go.”

He locked the door and strode over to his car. Aside from a duffel he had nothing else packed in the trunk. He didn’t need more.



An hour later he was on his way to Yuma.
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It had taken Perceptor barely any time to adjust to the fact that the Constructicons were a) on Earth, b) allied with the Autobots and c) had never been working willingly for the Decepticons. The five tall mechs were imposing, but even more awe-inspiring were their minds. Perceptor had been briefed on what they had gone through; that they had actually lost some of their inner selves, but what he had encountered was still so far beyond his own capabilities as an engineer that he sometimes just wanted to weep in appreciation.

Scrapper had simply welcomed him aboard the Ark, given him a brief idea on what they had done and were still doing, then included him into the work as if Perceptor hadn’t just arrived and was still reeling from the news.

With the discovery of the space bridge at the edge of the solar system, the rather relaxed atmosphere had immediately changed. Tension filled the air and Hook especially had grown more intense. He had studied and restudied the images, tweaked them to death until he could examine every pixel, and muttered and growled to himself. Perceptor had found himself giving the architect a lot of room and it had gotten him a knowing grin from Long Haul.

“That’s Hook in a nut shell,” the massive Constructicon simply remarked. “Ignore the scary part. He’s just annoyed that he didn’t think of applying shell structure dynamics in his attempts to create a working model of a space bridge.”

“He tried to create a space bridge?” Perceptor echoed. “Why?”

“It’s a hobby. Ancient technology. He and Scavenger like to fiddle around with it when they’re bored.”

Great Cybertron! Perceptor shook his head. They call that a hobby!

Perceptor himself couldn’t wrap his mind around some concepts of Ancient technology and Scavenger and Hook saw it as a hobby!

And then the news about the launch of the Ghosts and the Autobot shuttle dubbed ‘Spook’ had come in. It had stopped all other work and Scrapper had immediately ordered all scanners on the three ships. They were tracking their movement, covering them as best as possible. The weapons of the Ark were not all fully online yet. Of course, they could be. They would work. Coordination was another matter, as was the energon required. Mixmaster had been in charge of getting that problem fixed. So far he had managed to at least keep their cannons from exploding when used repeatedly.

“Ships in range,” Scavenger said, voice level and calm.

Scrapper only nodded as they kept tracking. Perceptor wondered whether the Constructicon leader was aware how easily he had fallen into the role of base commander. He was radiating the same calm competence Prime did and it easily reflected on the ones working for him, including Perceptor.

“I don’t like the looks of that,” Hook said softly and Perceptor sidled over to the station the engineer was at.

The image on his screen showed the space bridge, resolution questionable, but the finely tuned instruments on the SI satellites relayed a fair amount of data that was very interesting.

“Energy spikes,” he clarified when Perceptor studied the readings. “Here, here and here.” His fingers tapped onto the screen and his optics flashed. “That’s a lot of energy.”

Perceptor nodded, feeling unease spread through his system. “That’s… several times the amount required for a jump.”

Hook huffed. “At least as far as we know. No one’s ever been insane enough to try and replicate the ancient bridge technology!”

Perceptor shot him a curious look. It got him a scowl.

“What?” Hook demanded.

“You are experimenting with it.”

“Experimenting theoretically. With a computer model,” was the sharp reply. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to rebuild a live model! The arrogance to even think it works, and on such a scale…!” He sounded truly outraged and probably was. “Utterly insane! Even if the uranium can be used to power the array, it’s highly theoretical that something can be moved through space to this very location – in one piece! The ancient reports tell us that even small objects like mechs were torn apart from the inside in the early stages.”

Perceptor nodded. And from the distance of the dishes this was one gigantic bridge about to go active.

Another spike of energy triggered several alarms and Long Haul hurried over, optics wide.

“Hook?” Scrapper asked firmly.

“Something’s going on,” the mech replied. “Something big and it’s still getting bigger.”

So not good, Perceptor thought to himself. Not good at all. And the moment the shuttles were close enough to relay readings as well, they would know just what it was.

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It was what they had trained for. It was what they had been selected for.

Two hybrid technology ships called ‘Ghosts’ launched from Arctic and Yuma, followed by an Autobot shuttle -- that had truly seen better days but was needed -- from Australia. The Ghosts were manned by humans, all in Stark Industries armor, all prepared for the worst. In the Ghost-3 a tiny mechanoid life form stared through the view screen, red optics on space as it streaked past. No one had been able to convince WiFi to stay home for this one, least of all his chosen human, the commander of the Ghost-3, Major Mike Bowman. Jazz sat in the cargo hold, armed and ready, logged into the ship’s sensors to keep track of what was happening as they closed in. He linked up to the ship’s systems, able to see everything the Ghost-3 did, able to interfere should the human pilot’s reaction be too slow. Barricade was with him, tense and ready.

While Ironhide had argued he should be there, too, Prime had decided that only those who could easily fit into the cargo holds should be aboard. That meant the smallest of the mechs on Earth. While the Ghost-3 had been able to shuttle the Constructicons back and forth, three at a time maximum, they had always been in their alternate modes. The Ghost-3’s cargo hold was only large enough to accommodate a mechanoid the size of Jazz or Bumblebee in bipedal mode. Ironhide was too tall.

Aboard the Autobot shuttle, Sideswipe, Prowl and Jolt silently and efficiently steered the banged-up craft toward the edge of the solar system at high speed, closely followed by the humans’ ships. Blades had insisted on coming along. He had adjusted his transformation to a Cybertronian fighter jet.

For some strange reason they encountered no resistance, no traps. Prowl frowned.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered. “This is too easy.”

Sideswipe nodded, concentrating on the radar as Jolt flew. Neither of the two Ghosts picked up anything either.

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“Soundwave, we’ve got incoming.”

The tall Decepticon received the data, but he ignored it.

“Proceed with the operation,” he ordered.

“What about the Autobots?”

“They are too late to stop the process.”

And they were. As fast as the two ships closed in, there was no way they would be able to stop him.

Soundwave looked at the Seeker. “Stop them from interfering.”

Skywarp nodded and launched himself back into space.

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-- Retrieval in progress --

-- Receiving --

........

-- Receiving --

........

-- Receiving --

........

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"Target in sight," Jolt reported.

"Shields on maximum! Ready forward assault guns!"

"Forward guns ready!"

Prowl looked at the target area and nodded. "Any signs of discovery?"

"Nope. They are completely oblivious to our presence. The camouflage is working."

"The moment we fire the guns, we'll be revealed," Sideswipe commented.

“We’ll only need to get close. The Ghosts are keeping the Cons’ attention and we can sneak closer,” Prowl replied. “It’s all we need. One or two well-placed shots to destroy the array.”

"Target in range in one minute," Jolt announced. "Guns up on full. We're ready."

"Drop camouflage on my command!" Prowl watched the target come closer. "Now!"

The ship dropped the cloaking shields the Constructicons had developed. They were sucking up power, a fact Hook and Mixmaster had been very unhappy about, but there had been no time to come up with a slimmer version. Hook was still designing new models, but this had been the only working one.

"We are on their radar," Jolt announced.

Due to the power-guzzling shields they only had a small window of opportunity to shoot at the power arrays in front of them and Prowl was using that time. He gave it all they had, but the Seekers were faster. Their missiles intercepted the ones launched at the array, destroying them.

"And on their targeting mechanisms!" Sideswipe added. "Incoming!"

“Evasive maneuvers. Now!”

Jolt acknowledged and hit the thrusters on full, throwing the ship around and trying to get them out of the immediate line of fire.

"They are quick," Jolt growled in disgust and unwilling admiration as three Seekers came at them.

The Spook made a run for it.

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Barricade had expected a fight and his expectations were met. He wasn’t a flyer, but he was highly adjustable to situations, as all warriors had to be. Like the others he had shed his Earth alternate mode and gone for his Cybertronian guise. It was all that was needed to turn the Seekers now heading for them into scrap metal.

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Jazz smiled briefly as his spark-bonded hefted his weapon, took aim, and clipped the first Decepticon jet coming at them. Then he chose his own target and started to decimate the enemy while evading counter fire.

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Blades shot through space, two Seekers hot on his aft. He led them into the asteroid field, dodging smaller rocks and shooting over frozen landscapes. One Seeker nearly collided with a tiny debris field as Blades sent several flares at him, but the other got in too close. The Autobot transformed and engaged him in an up-close and personal fight.

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Sideswipe launched himself from the Spook and joined the battle, blades gleaming and looking for Decepticon targets.

He grinned darkly as he discovered the five Predacons among the defenders.

Time for a little payback.

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Bowman flew the Ghost-3 through enemy fire like she was a small F-22, not a seriously big ship that easily hauled three large mechs from Earth to the Ark. Her maneuverability was excellent and he would have to thank the Constructicons for designing this beauty. His job was to fly, the rest of the team took care of weapons and communication. WiFi had plugged himself into the system and busily kept track of whoever was out there, enemy or allies.

At his side, like a smaller shadow, Walker handled the Ghost-2. She packed the same power as her younger sister, but she hadn’t been built by Cybertronians. Her hybrid technology gave her another edge, one Walker used perfectly, because her weapons were based on Sabot rounds, and they stung. They could kill, too.

Both Ghosts kept out of the middle of the battle, had the mechs’ backs.

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“They’re keeping us busy,” Prowl muttered, fingers flying over the controls.

None of the Seekers seriously tried to engage them, just stalled their approach toward the space bridge. Even the Predacons were only toying again, not interested in moving too close to the enemy or too far away from the space bridge.

“Yeah, and the fraggers are good at it,” Sideswipe growled over the comm lines, slicing at one of the Decepticons in question with his blades. “One step forward, two steps back.”

The Ghosts as well as the Spook had taken light damage. The Autobots outside and fighting one-on-one were roughed up and singed, but still in fighting shape.

One of the Seekers suddenly got too close to Sideswipe as he evaded the Ghost-2 coming for him, and the silver mech didn’t hesitate to push his blade through the jet’s chest.

“You lose,” Sideswipe called and launched himself through the opening in the enemy lines, heading for the space bridge array.

“Cover him!” Prowl ordered.

“On it,” Blades responded.


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Bowman was alerted to the sudden change first by WiFi’s shrill cry of alarm, then by his crew.

“Shit, what the fuck is that?” Micky Kornman exclaimed.

The weapons system engineer was staring at the readings he had from outside, shaking his head as he typed on his keyboard.

WiFi warbled anxiously.

Bowman got the gist of it through a rather dyslexic looking email projected into a corner of his helmet’s visor. As much as WiFi had gotten better with communication, when he was excited even emails tended to be a garbled mess.

“Prowl?” the Major contacted the Autobot aboard the Spook.

“We’re getting the same readings,” was the clipped reply. “They fired up the array. We can’t stop them!”

Well, shit, Bowman thought.

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Space was rippling; positively folding into itself. Light was distorted, the planets seemed to blur, and then there was a pulse. Light and sound in a cold vacuum.

The shuttle, tiny compared to the space bridge, was rocked by the waves the pulse created. The mechs outside, ready to engage the enemy Seekers, were caught in the blast. Blades was hurled away from the enemy and just about managed to stabilize himself, before Sideswipe crashed into him. Both mechs desperately tried to keep themselves from spinning off out of control.

Jazz was farther away, but he cringed in pain, briefly stunned. Someone grabbed him around the waist and hauled him away. He looked into slightly murky red optics.

::What’s happening?:: he managed over their personal connection.

::I don’t know:: Barricade answered, still holding him close and Jazz wasn’t inclined to let go either.

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-- Danger! Losing pattern --

-- Energon levels dropping --

-- Unknown factor! Danger! Losing pattern --

-- Shutting down --

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“What the Pits is going on?!” Sideswipe yelled over the comm.

Only static answered him.

The humming increased again.

By now it was drowning out all other noises and all of a sudden there was an explosion of multi-colored light. Sideswipe, his optics narrowed in the glare, witnessed as a brilliant light, like a tiny sun, appeared inside the ring array. The crystals of each dish lit up and the hum was felt through every molecule of metal.

Blades cringed and gave a whimper of discomfort.

“Fall back!” Jazz’s voice ordered sharply. “Back, back, back!!”

Sideswipe reacted automatically to the powerful command, as did Blades.

It had been a stupid move on his part to try and get closer to the structure. Suddenly the light exploded outwards, vanishing abruptly. For a second, there was stark silence, then something rushed towards him like a large tidal wave. From his position Sideswipe saw something funneling away from the rings, reaching towards him. Just as it looked like it was going to touch the shocked Autobot, the bubbling and sizzling funnel collapsed back the way it had come from.

Space…ripped. It tore apart like thin paper and in the middle of the space bridge something started to shimmer into existence.

The Decepticons had stopped fighting by now. Everyone was staring at the spectacle.

First nothing happened, then a screech ripped through their audios. To Sideswipe it sounded like a dying animal, dying in great pain. And apparently that hadn’t been part of the plan because the Seekers scattered in panic. Out of the corner of his optics he saw a familiar figure and he felt an even more familiar hatred rise.

Soundwave!

Ignoring everything, listening only to the rage, he launched himself toward the hated Decepticon commander. Blasting at the symbiotes surrounding the enemy, he closed in on his prey.

A red visor band met his fiery blue optics.

“Ravage, Buzzsaw, Rumble, engage,” was the monotonous command.

Sideswipe grinned nastily. Those three wouldn’t be able to stop him!

A flash of light blinded him. It was as if space was suddenly nothing but intense whiteness and he yelled in pain as his processor was unable to handle the input. Something slammed into him. Sideswipe reacted on automatic and grabbed for his attacker, but he only caught a slender tail, which slipped through his fingers.

And then there was a resounding boom.

At least it sounded like a boom, despite the fact that no sound traveled in space. It was as if the noise bridged that soundless gap and drove itself right into the mech’s processors.

For a full second his spark seemed to go into arrest, his whole body was frozen, mouth open in shock. His optics briefly went dark and he collapsed.

When he was able to process a thought once more, only seconds had passed. Fingers digging into frozen rock and he wondered how he had come to end up on a piece of asteroid, but his memory banks were a blank. The silver mech pushed himself up on shaky legs, unable to comprehend what had happened.

Communications came back to life with a screech and he dialed down the intensity, but all that was forgotten when his optics caught sight of what lay before him.

“Impossible…” he managed.

ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

Soundwave regarded the sight before him with triumph. The space bridge had gone to pieces, but that was beyond his interest. He didn’t need it any more. The pieces could be harvested later.
The communications expert felt satisfaction race through his systems as he looked at the result of all the work.

Cybertron.

His home.

Brought here by ancient technology that so far few had ever understood. Around him the Decepticons were struck speechless that the plan had actually worked. His symbiotes had regrouped close to him, radiating the same amazement.

This close to the sun of this solar system he would have no trouble using another ancient technology to harvest energon from the star. None at all.

Cybertron would live, even without the Allspark, and if he could get his hands on the human Lennox, he would even have something that insured his continued reign.

Something crackled through the thin atmosphere surrounding the planet. Like a web of lightning bolts.

Soundwave frowned.

One of the Seekers closest to the planet suddenly screamed and Soundwave witnessed as the web of bolts touched him. The hapless jet was flung away, colliding hard with space debris from the Kuiper belt, and crashed on a larger asteroid with a gurgle. The strange bubble quivered, then calmed down and the energy bolts crackled over it again as if nothing had happened.

“What the slag?!” Rumble exclaimed.

Soundwave hissed softly and activated his finely tuned sensory devices, immediately hit by sound so painful, he almost went down to his knees. It overwhelmed his circuits, threatened to tear into his processor, and his spark stuttered once. He immediately shut down all sensory equipment and felt calmness spread through him once more.

“What’s going on?” Rumble repeated, agitated. “That’s not normal, right?”

Ravage crept to the edge of their asteroid, making nervous little sounds. They were so close to Cybertron, they could see the spires. The war-ravaged surface looked pock-marked and molten in places. The spires had partially collapsed. There was no movement on the planet’s surface or within its atmosphere. It was barren and dead.

“Transfer: unsuccessful,” Soundwave said monotonously.

“I can see that,” Rumble muttered insolently. “But why?”

The red visor band fixed him emotionlessly. “Unknown.”

“So now what?”

The communications specialist turned back to the sight of their home world, silent, apparently undecided. Then he carefully opened a line into Cyberspace, a place he felt comfortable touching, unlike many other mechs, who were afraid of the vastness of this world, of the limitless possibilities. Cyberspace was a second home to Soundwave, a dimension where everything was possible, where nothing was as in the outside world. Distance meant nothing, mass and size and origin meant nothing. There was only the mind and the space.

Looking at Cybertron through Cyberspace Soundwave reeled back. It was like facing a murky, gray and very sickening wound in the middle of space. It was painful and loud and distorting everything around it. A milky halo surrounded the murkiness, pulsing, crackling… dangerous.

He immediately left Cyberspace and collected himself.

“Soundwave?” Rumble asked, sounding unsure.

“Retreat,” he only ordered.

“But Soundwave…”

The red visor met the optics of the much smaller symbiote and Rumble shifted nervously. He finally transformed and returned to Soundwave, connecting to his host. The other symbiotes radiated the same confusion and worry, but Soundwave kept them logged out of his inner systems. All they could do was reload and wait.

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Not far from where the current Decepticon leader was contemplating what had happened, Jazz was doing the same. Readings came in from the three shuttles and those mechs closest to the metal world, and all looked far from good. He wasn’t a scientist, but he didn’t need to be one to understand that something had gone horrendously wrong in the transfer.

“Cybertron seems to be surrounded by an energy shield,” Prowl could be heard over the comm lines. “Whether it was intentional on Soundwave’s side remains to be seen.”

“Doubt it,” Jazz replied.

He was joined by Barricade, who, like all of them, looked a bit worse for wear. Jazz briefly scanned his bonded and found numerous metal splinters embedded in the battle armor, some deeper than he would have preferred them to be located, but Barricade only shot him a warning look. He was functional, which was more than what could be said about his last opponent. The Seeker was floating among the space debris, off-lined and missing a few limbs.

“Regroup,” Prowl ordered. “We fall back to a safe distance.”

Jazz had to agree that right now they shouldn’t be too close to Cybertron, especially since the strange force field seemed to pulse.

He launched himself toward the Ghost-3’s now opening loading bay, followed by Barricade. They waited for the hatch to close and pressure to equalize, then Bowman opened the forward blast doors so they had access to the bridge. While neither mech could walk into the human-sized compartment, it allowed personal communication.

Jazz pulled a jagged shard out of his bonded’s shoulder and let it fall onto the floor plating. He knew he didn’t look much better and the dried energon on his left leg wasn’t just spatter. Ratchet would have fun with them all.

Bowman was maneuvering the Ghost-3 to a safer place. “Now what?” he asked.

It was a good question, none he had an answer for. “Establish a link to Nevada,” Jazz ordered.

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Perceptor’s fingers flew over the control of the Ark’s long-distance scanners and he shook his head again and again.

“No, no, no,” he murmured.

Next to him, Hook was recalibrating several of the defense satellites, a pinched expression on his face. His optics flared deep red all of a sudden and he gave an exclamation of surprise.

“Has he lost his last processor?!” he hissed.

“Apparently,” Perceptor commented wryly as he read over more data, but there was a tremor in his voice.

“Perceptor, Hook, report,” Prime’s deep voice commanded.

“It seems like Soundwave disregarded all the Laws of Modus and moved Cybertron from its original position to this solar system,” Perceptor replied immediately. “While moving an object from one system to the next is theoretically possible, even the size of a planet, sanity precludes such attempts due to the massive backwash in energy expended, which in turn would influence the object moved. Since he didn’t take into account the effect such a massive move has on objects, and because space bridge technology is a fickle thing to master, something not even our ancestors did to perfection…”

“Soundwave messed up,” Long Haul rumbled.

Perceptor huffed at being interrupted and shot the Constructicon an annoyed look. “Well, yes.”

“In what way?” Prime demanded, sounding tense.

“Space bridge technology is barely understood by our generation,” Hook said, cutting off Perceptor before he could get a word in. “What we do know is that it requires a tremendous amount of precision and energy. To move a mech from point A to point B he has to have bridge technology in his own circuits. The humans would call it teleportation. Space bridges as independent stations were tried, but never successful. To move a whole planet someone has to be out of his mind.” Hook’s tone clearly indicated that was what he thought Soundwave had to be. “The power requirements alone are beyond calculation. To move the planet across galaxies, it’s impossible to know the outcome.”

“The outcome,” Scrapper intervened before Prime could ask for another clarification, “is that the place where the planet was is a hole in the universe, whereas the place it now is never had a planet. It’s a reality shift. Cybertron doesn’t belong in this solar system, so it pulls away, but the space bridge forced it to remain here. The hole where it was still has echoes, for lack of a better word, of Cybertron. Both together create a so-called reality bubble.”

“Reality bubble?” Prime echoed, clearly unable to understand.

“A reality bubble is a completely theoretical construct,” Perceptor explained. “Scientists have filled books on reality bubbles, but their creation has never been successfully documented, mainly because space bridge technology was never sanctioned. The Ancients had trouble with it, so past scientists weren’t allowed to dabble in that technology. There were so little notes that most didn’t even want to try it. So theoretical models were used and the reality bubble was one outcome.”

“What were the others?”

“Complete destruction of the object transported arose as a possibility,” Perceptor answered. “The bigger the object, the more dangerous. Or that the object transported might become stuck between realities or dimensions. The reality bubble is like a best and worst case scenario.”

“In what way?” Prime wanted to know.

“It’s neither here nor there,” Scrapper translated. “We see Cybertron, but we can’t physically go there. The reality bubble keeps us from entering the vicinity of the planet.”

“Like a giant shield that no one can easily breach,” Hook added before Perceptor could say something.

“Imagine the energy necessary to pull the planet to this system as a wrapping around Cybertron,” Perceptor finally spoke up, shooting Hook a look that dared the Constructicon to interrupt. “The energy blocks us from setting foot on the planet, or even get close to the outer layers. It also would block anyone on the planet from realizing what happened.”

Prime was silent for a very long minute. “What will it do to Cybertron?” he finally asked.

Perceptor exchanged glances with the Constructicons, then shrugged. “We don’t know, Prime. For now we can only theorize. Nothing can get in, nothing gets out. I’m not sure how long anyone on our planet will take to realize what happened, if at all. We don’t know how many have gone into hiding underground.”

“Reality is frozen,” Hook said, voice even. “They can’t see us, we can’t talk to them. From what we can see, nothing has moved either. So it’s possible that time has stopped.”

“Can we breach the bubble?”

“Inadvisable,” Hook objected immediately. “Right now it’s a very delicate balance. Soundwave already upset the balance of the universe.”

As melodramatic as it sounded, it was partially true.

“Any further manipulation could lead to catastrophic results,” Scavenger agreed. “Piercing the bubble might collapse it. All that energy has to go somewhere, and I doubt it would just leave without a path of destruction in its wake. Worst case scenario… Cybertron will be torn to pieces.”

Optimus’ optics were a dark blue, deep and thoughtful, his face giving nothing away. “What can we do?”

Another exchange of looks. “I’m afraid we can’t give you an answer right now, Prime,” Perceptor said solemnly. “But we’re working on it.”

It got him a long look, then a nod. “Keep me informed.”

“Of course.”

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At Nevada, Prime turned to his second-in-command. Jazz’s rather scratched looking face looked expectantly at him.

“Ghost-2 and 3 return to the Ark,” Prime ordered. “Prowl, Sideswipe and Jolt, I want you to remain and monitor. Fall back to maximum distance. Additional SI satellites are currently heading your way to function as your video and audio surveillance. The Ark is standing by. Should any of you need repairs, head for the Ark.”

Prowl, on a second screen, nodded. “Understood.”

Jazz nodded his understanding as well.

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Soundwave floated in space, staring at his home world. Cybertron was as barren and dead as he remembered it. Nothing seemed to move, but he was too far away to make out details anyway. Where once lights had indicated sprawling cities there were only blackened patches of burned and molten metal. The war had destroyed the surface, but underneath the survivors still tried to make a living. There were few. Too many had fallen in battle or had fled after the Allspark’s disappearance. Hope was still there, but it was weak at best. Millennia had passed and nothing had ever been heard of Optimus Prime or Megatron.

“Now what?”

He turned to look at Skywarp, whose expression was misgiving, almost insolent. Soundwave had no answer to the question. In all his calculations he had given the risk of a reality shift little to no attention. Space bridge technology was dangerous, but nothing of the like had ever happened before. Then again, not even the ancient Cybertronians had tried to move a planet.

It had been desperation, he knew. Desperation and a hope that ran through even him. He wanted his home planet to live.

“We’ve got the planet, but we can’t get there,” Skywarp went on. “Or was that your plan?” he challenged.

Soundwave felt his symbiotes shift with anger at the tone Skywarp was using. He sent them an order to stand down.

“The situation has changed,” he only said. “We will regroup and analyze our position.”

With that he transformed and sent a signal to his troops to follow him to their temporary base deep within the Kuiper belt.

Skywarp glowered after him. “Regroup my aft! You failed!”

He transformed and shot off into a different direction, soon joined by Thundercracker. It was time to seek out their wing leader. If Starscream was still anywhere around, watching and waiting for his chance to kick Soundwave off his pedestal, they would find him. Soundwave had had his chance; he hadn’t used it.

Two more Seekers joined him, but the rest had rejoined Soundwave. It didn’t matter.

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Mike Bowman and his crew had been aboard the Ark several times before, but never for a longer stay. Like Kyle Walker and his team they had only ever played shuttle for the mechs and supplies. So it was new for them to actually move into what doubled as quarters for the only organics on the space station. It was Long Haul who had led them to what had probably once been a room for a mech and was easily large enough to house eight humans.

“Anyone bring a change of underwear?” Barbara Tanner joked.

The others grinned or laughed.

“We’re here until the ships are looked at and refueled,” Walker reminded them. “Get some rest, sleep, doze, eat, whatever. We’ll be off back to Earth the moment we have clearance.”

Everyone nodded and the two commanders left their teams. Bowman glanced at Walker and saw the same mixture of tiredness, adrenaline and worry.

“First battle?” he asked casually.

“First space battle against alien mechs,” Walker answered. “You?”

“Yeah.”

It felt strange. Scary and exhilarating. Weird and yet so familiar. Their basic training had been as military pilots; in Walker’s case as an astronaut. Bowman had flown fighters, but never in space. This had been very, very new – and they had survived.

“I want to check in with Scrapper, see what’s going on,” Kyle told him.

“Yeah. Same here.”

Both men set out toward the bridge. Bowman felt WiFi transform and then the Nokia climbed onto his shoulder, warbling a little. He smiled at his companion.

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Barricade was a silent shadow lurking at the edge of the Ark’s command center. Since the last time he had seen the Autobot ship up close and personal a lot had changed. The bridge had turned into a gigantic room that spoke of the Ark’s new function as a space station. It had gained in height and depth, and several adjoining rooms had been included.

The main screen was currently showing the remote satellite images of the Kuiper belt. Cybertron was clearly visible, though the reality bubble was obscuring it more and more. Like looking through a stained window, he mused.

The Decepticons had retreated and there hadn’t been a blip out of them. SI satellites and Blaster’s symbiotes were scanning ceaselessly for enemy signals, but Soundwave was too good to be detected by such simple means.

Soft steps announced the arrival of his partner and Barricade briefly glanced at the almost fully repaired silver Autobot. Like himself Jazz had received mostly superficial damage and it had looked worse than it had actually been.

“Homesick?” Jazz asked, voice low.

There was no teasing there. His tone of voice was serious, almost longing.

Barricade didn’t answer, simply turned back to looking at his home world. This was where his spark had been activated; this was where he had served the Lord Protector and the Prime; this was what Megatron had destroyed in the end.

“It’s no longer the Cybertron we knew,” he finally said.

“Yeah,” Jazz murmured after a moment. “But then again, it’s Cybertron. If there’s a chance…”

“Cybertron died, Jazz,” Barricade said, voice brutally hard. “What we see here is the dead husk of our home.”

“One we might bring back to life!”

Red optics flared briefly, then Barricade hissed. “Hope runs eternal in you Autobots.”

Jazz tilted his head a little. “Hope is what kept us going, Cade. All that time, throughout the war, it was what had us holding on.”

The former Decepticon shifted uneasily. A silver claw traced over his armor. He tried to ignore it, but he had gotten too used to the close contact not to enjoy it.

Someone else stepped into the control room and Barricade tensed briefly, then slunk a little further with his back against the wall as Perceptor entered, followed by Hook and Scrapper. The Autobot scientist only nodded at Jazz, then turned to a work station, calling up what looked like scientific formulas. Hook joined him, both of them conversing softly, while Scrapper stopped next to Jazz.

“You should be recharging,” the Constructicon leader remarked.

“We’re fine,” Jazz answered. “How are repairs coming along?”

“The Ghost-2 is already preparing for launch to return to Earth in three hours. The crew is fine. Prowl is keeping an optic on the process of the Spook.”

Jazz nodded. Prowl, Sideswipe and Jolt would fly back to Cybertron, or as close as they could safely get, and keep watch. They would also be looking for Decepticon presence.

“The Ghost-3 is refueling and the crew is currently sleeping,” Scrapper finished.

Jazz glanced over at Perceptor and Hook. “Any success so far?”

“No. A lot of theories, no solutions. Nothing like this has ever happened before,” the Constructicon leader answered slowly. “In theory it was possible, like so many things are. No one ever thought of actually moving a whole planet – until now.” His optics flared a little. “Soundwave was out of his mind to try this. It could have destroyed Cybertron, and it still might.”

Barricade rumbled softly.

Jazz just looked at the screen, before turning away. He felt homesick, in a way. Here was his home and they had no way to access the planet. Even if Cybertron was just a dead shell, it was now closer than in the past millennia.

“We’ll try to find a way to access Cybertron,” Scrapper interrupted his thoughts.

Jazz nodded. “Hopefully not too late.”

No one knew what the reality bubble was doing to the metal world. Perceptor had already listed several worst cases, all of them ending with the destruction of their world.

::Let’s go:: Barricade sent gruffly.

Jazz followed the shock-trooper through the station until they reached what doubled as personal quarters for the time they were here. He locked the door behind them and turned to his bonded. In the semi-darkness the optics glowed a deep red. Jazz placed a hand against Barricade’s spark chamber and felt an answering pulse. He smiled slightly and stepped closer, opening up.

Barricade rumbled softly and completed the connection.

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Out of the dozen possible and even impossible scenarios, Cybertron trapped in a reality bubble hadn’t really come up. Tony Stark sat in his workshop, the holographic image of the homeworld of the mechs floating three-dimensionally in the middle of the projector. He gazed at it with a thoughtful expression.

Reality bubbles. It sounded like some old science fiction cliché. He might have to get Jarvis to look into that, just for fun and useless reference points. Someone had probably thought of it in Star Trek or Stargate, whatever incarnation of each series. Now it was real and it had affected a very real world.

Calling up the scans made by his own satellites and those by the Spook he read over them again and again. There was hardly any useable data. At least when it came to cold hard facts like consistency of the field, elements contained in it, radiation, etc. etc. and etc. Reality meant nothing when it came to the readings. Everything was either non-existent or twisted out of proportion.

Tony had talked to both Hook and Perceptor and both scientists had agreed that nothing they had on the field was actually helpful. They were relying on old texts, theories and dabbling from long-dead scientists into the world of space bridge technology.

“What a mess,” he murmured and switched off the projection.

Jarvis was as useless as anyone in that matter and if there was something anyone could do, it hadn’t been unearthed yet.

Hook had mentioned that the most useful information on space bridges and their effects on both the object transported and the surrounding space continuum was probably in the ancient archives – which were on Cybertron.

The archives on Cybertron were extensive and they were a place Tony would love to see one day. Scavenger had told him about them in past meetings, when they had just talked, and Perceptor had mentioned them now and again. One could get lost in the vast hall containing countless disks, scrolls, data crystals, and whatever the mechs of old and recent times had used to store data and images. A library was situated deep inside the planet, several levels down, spreading over miles. Tony could almost imagine it all, seeing the city of Skrim sitting above the entrance, the hallowed doorway into a world of knowledge. Skrim had been the city of scholars and archivists, of many, many scientists of all fields of expertise.

Skrim had been one of the earliest victims of the war. It was ruined, but the archives had survived. No one had been down there in millennia, though. Now would be a good time to go looking for a solution and no one could.

“What if someone tried to jump onto Cybertron using space bridge technology?” Tony had asked, the idea popping up in his head.

“Cybertron is surrounded by a reality bubble,” had been Hook’s condescending answer, the Constructicon looking at him like he was a stupid drone. “Nothing we know fits any more. The planet isn’t real. It’s a figment right now.”

And that was that idea. If someone actually tried -- and Scavenger had told Tony that if that someone was him, he would come and find his remains and kill him for the stunt -- the attempt wouldn’t be very successful. The space bridge portal had nowhere to connect to.

“Our objective reality concept no longer correlates with the sensed reality,” Perceptor had tried to clarify, making it even more sci-fi heavy than before. “We see something, but it’s not really there. Cybertron would influence the space around it, but it doesn’t.”

Like a projection, Tony thought.

And that was all it was. A projection that was both real and unreal. It was there, but not there.

And it was the source of headaches.

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It felt like a religious ceremony to Sam as he watched the assembled Autobots looking at the huge screen that showed them their home planet. He was fascinated by the alien world, too, but for a different reason. For him it was something new, something he had only ever seen in files or through Bumblebee’s memories. For his friends it was home. There was a longing surrounding all of them that he didn’t need to be a technopath to feel. Their world - dead, ravaged by war, hanging on by its teeth, so to speak - was so close and yet unattainable.

::Bee?:: he queried softly.

The yellow Autobot seemed to pull himself out of a trance. ::Sorry:: he apologized.

Sam smiled. ::No need for that. I kinda understand::

The Decepticons had disappeared, but they all knew that they hadn’t gone far. It was only a matter of time that they resurfaced. For now they were beaten, stunned the same way the Autobots were, and probably just as much reeling from the impact of the fate of their world. Trapped, frozen, there but not there.

“What are we gonna do?” Ironhide rumbled.

“There isn’t much we can do,” Perceptor spoke up. His image was on another screen. The Constructicons could be seen in the background. “For now I don’t know how to reverse what happened. But we’re working on it.”

Optimus nodded slowly.

“It is like our hope and our worst nightmare in one,” Jazz murmured.

“Even if we can breach the reality bubble,” Scrapper pulled their attention to him, “there is no telling for now what it would do to Cybertron. Our aim should be to send our planet back to its original position, not to leave it in this solar system. Currently it’s neither here nor there and the longer that continues, the higher the risk of permanent… annihilation.”

“Can we use the space bridge array?”

“We’re currently looking into that,” was the Constructicon leader’s reply. “It was damaged and partially destroyed. It would take a while to repair, and even then we would have to go very close to the bubble’s fringes. It’s highly dangerous for the ones approaching, as well as the planet.”

Sam tuned out the conversation as he leaned against Bumblebee, just looking at the image of Cybertron. He had wanted to go there one day, see the metal planet for himself, even if it was a war-ravaged place. He had wanted to see Bumblebee’s home.

Now he could and it wasn’t how he had dreamed of it.

The military was in uproar over what had happened and Sam understood their reaction. Suddenly there was a new planet in their very own solar system and if the Decepticons managed to get to Cybertron, who knew what they could and would do? Soundwave had wanted the metal planet here for a reason. There had been a plan involved.

Sam really didn’t want to change places with Optimus right now. This was a political nightmare, and if someone pointed their deep space telescope the wrong way they would find a whole new planet. Of course, AIDDE was trying to prevent that, but even they couldn’t be everywhere. The whole landing and take-off procedures of the Ghosts in the past couple of days had been hard enough to cover up anyway. Optimus was seriously considering permanently stationing both Ghosts and their crews on the Ark. Human life could be sustained aboard the space station and the human crews had already agreed.

Sam felt a wave of emotions wash over him, all alien and mechanoid in origin, and he brought up better shields. There had been a lot of those emotions in the past days and he had increased shields now and again. Bumblebee touched him gently through the bond, offering to anchor, and Sam didn’t even protest. It was better this way and guaranteed less headaches.

::Want to leave?:: Bumblebee asked.

::Yeah:: Sam answered without having to think about it.

There was nothing they could help with right now, least of all Sam. He had to pull his mind back together and that was best done with his partner and away from the base where every mech was currently in an emotional upheaval of one kind or another.

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Lennox sat outside the base, away from the lights that would disturb a clear view of the cloudless and star-filled night sky, and was gazing at the darkness above him. He had scored a large plate of Mac n’ Cheese from the small kitchen area that still existed at the base. Despite all the changes, despite all the soldiers at the base, despite the mess hall facility, there was still the small private area used mainly by Lennox’s old team and Sam. And of course Will himself. Jones had handed over a microwaved literal tub of the delicious macs and grinned when Lennox had thanked him.

“Hey, we know you love the stuff.”

Now he was forking up the last pieces, cheese drawing strings. Will could have stayed inside to watch CNN or any other kind of news channel that ran 24/7, but he didn’t want to listen to the problems of the world, especially since the world knew so little of what was truly going on.

But maybe soon it would. Maybe soon the secrets would spill over and things would get really hot. And interesting.

He smiled to himself. It didn’t mean that he could stop being dead and a secret. He would always be a secret and once dead meant he had to stay dead. What would he tell Sarah anyway? Hey, baby, I’m back, look like a freak, and meet my Cybertronian bonded?

Yeah, that would go over well.

Lennox’s eyes were on the sky again as he swallowed the last of his dinner.

Somewhere out there, at the far, far edge of their solar system, was the mechs' home world. Cybertron was too small to be seen from here, just like Pluto. But it was there; they knew.

And if someone pointed their telescope the wrong way they would see the anomaly.

Will smiled a little.

Anomaly.

That's what it was called by the military and everyone associated. An anomaly that might end tragically. No one knew what the reality bubble was doing to the metal world because there was no way to take readings.

"It's what you get for playing with ancient technology," Hook had only commented throughout the last tele-conference.

The Ghosts and the Spook were by now stationed at the Ark and frequently dispatched to check on the reality bubble. SI satellites were positioned at a wide enough distance to the bubble to monitor changes. Whatever came too close was zapped and Perceptor was worried what shifts in the energy field were doing to their home world.

Solutions to the problem came and went. The best and the brightest were working on it, many of them scientists under contract by the military. They had the highest clearance and had been sworn to secrecy.

Two weeks had passed already and nothing had changed, except the density of the bubble around Cybertron. It was worrisome, but no one wanted to speculate on what it meant. Several SI satellite drones had lost their existence to scanning attempts when they had been maneuvered too close, and from what Scrapper had said, the danger zone was growing.

“Stargazing?”

He looked up into the dark face of his partner. “Thinking.”

“Dangerous occupation.” Ironhide settled down beside him.

“Yeah, maybe. But everyone is, including you. We’re all thinking about Cybertron and what’s happening.”

Ironhide gave a soft rumble.

“You have every right to be worried. It’s your home, ‘Hide.”

“It’s a home that died, Will. And that isn’t Cybertron. It’s a shadow, a ghost. It’s encased in a reality bubble and we might never get to it.”

“What if you can?”

Blue optics met his quizzical gaze. “I’ll think about it if that happens,” was Ironhide’s answer.

If. The big two letter word.

Will nodded and went back to his ‘stargazing’. After a moment Ironhide’s blunt fingertip stroked over his back and Lennox smiled to himself, leaning into the comforting touch.

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On one of the larger asteroids Ravage sat in his raw beast mode, red optics on his home planet. Cybertron wasn’t far away, but despite its closeness, it felt like light years. The reality bubble didn’t allow any kind of interaction. The planet itself was present, but it didn’t influence gravitational fields, which meant that none of the closer asteroids were attracted to it. It was there; Ravage could see it. But then again it wasn’t.

With a soft whine he lay down, optics never leaving the metal planet. He knew it was dangerous to be so close, but he was small and well-shielded. The danger didn’t come from the reality bubble, but more from the regular patrols of either the Autobot ships or Blaster’s symbiotes. They were both scanning the planet and keeping an eye out for Decepticon activity.

Lazerbeak landed and settled down, looking as glum as Ravage felt. There was no news on removing the reality bubble, the winged symbiote transmitted. Soundwave hadn’t found a way so far. It wasn’t his strong point either. They needed a mech like Shockwave to work the science, but Shockwave had last been heard of from Cybertron.

Ravage looked at his fellow symbiote and Lazerbeak hummed softly, then launched himself off into space again. Ravage remained behind, looking at the planet that had been his home once.
A ghost. A specter. Not real but there. No one could touch it, but it looked real.

And if he looked very closely he thought he saw ghosts drifting over the surface, faint echoes of reality, of mechs really there.

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Optimus was in his office, optics on the pixel streams of Cybertron as the SI satellites delivered image after unchanging image. His home; here. So close and yet untouchable. It hurt something deep inside him to just sit and wait for a verdict.

"Optimus?"

The tentative question had him look up and he nodded a greeting at Rodimus Prime.

"Come in," he told the younger Prime.

"General Morshower called. I took the call. The Whitman team found a rise in rumors about aliens and the like on the internet. They're containing the matter, but it seems that on top of it all, humanity is slowly becoming aware of us."

Optimus gave a rattling sigh. "They have ever since Mission City. The military won't be able to keep our presence here secret forever, but whatever slack we can get, we take."

"With the take-offs from the shuttles that's rather hard," was the wry reply. "Someone noticed. Too many nutcases make for a sane story."

The older Prime smiled. "Yes. We take what we can get, but preparations have long since been made for the moment our presence will be revealed."

"Can't wait," Rodimus muttered sarcastically. "I hate hiding, but some of the humans are rather... paranoid."

"Yes, they are. They unite whenever there is a threat, but afterwards they drift back to their old habits."

Blue optics in a young face narrowed. "We have many allies already."

"And enemies will follow. Those who will ask for weapons, will exploit, will pin the worst of this planet on us. We will be walking a very fine line. But for now I worry about other matters."

Optimus glanced at the screen again.

Rodimus nodded. "No solutions yet, and no sign of the Decepticons. Soundwave disappeared, probably to figure out a way to get to Cybertron before we do."

If there was one. It was one of the big questions that none of the scientists working at the problem had been able to answer.

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Tony Stark had spent the last two weeks allocating resources to figuring out how to burst a bubble. A reality bubble. Like everyone involved in that mission he knew it wasn’t easy, maybe even impossible, and it was dangerous. He had even flown along with the Ghost-3 and Bowman’s crew to get a real look at Cybertron, and he had been awed and deeply touched, saddened and angered, and he had been confused.

This was it. This was where the mechs came from, but then again it wasn’t. He had spent hours talking all of it through with Perceptor and Hook, and he understood that while Cybertron was really here, it wasn’t more than an image. Still, it was hard to grasp.

Cybertron didn’t influence gravity fields. It didn’t change the solar system. No asteroids or meteors were drawn to it. It was clearly there, it was physical in a way that it severely hurt or could even destroy what came too close to the reality bubble, but then the laws of physics stopped and things were rather strange.

Back on Earth he wasn’t too surprised to find an Audi R8 parked among the many sports cars in his collection.

“Hey, Roddy,” he greeted the new Prime.

The car transformed and the familiar mech smiled a little. “Hello, Tony.”

“Got some time off?”

“In a way. Optimus told me to take some.”

Stark grinned. “And you came here?”

“And I came here. How was your trip?”

“Weird and enlightening. You’ve got a great planet, Roddy. Impressive. Though a bit on the surreal side at the moment.”

“Seems like it. No one is any closer to solving this and I somehow doubt there is a solution.”

Tony regarded his tall friend with a frown. “Giving up on your own home?”

“No. Just realistic. And if I understand Perceptor correctly, this isn’t Cybertron as we know. It’s… an image. Reality trapped in a bubble.”

“Still it’s there.”

Rodimus nodded and sat down, watching Tony fiddle with the computers. It was familiar, it was known, it was even needed.

“No one’s giving up, Roddy,” Tony said, voice very serious, after a while.

“I know.”

“But hiding the prolonged existence of a new planet in the solar system might prove a bit difficult.”

It got Tony a nod. “All of us are aware of it. Optimus has talked to heads of state and everyone is ready.”

“Ready for fear, paranoia and aggression?”

Rodimus’ optics flared a little. “I have faith that not all of humanity will hate us. It will take a while, but I’m certain your kind can accept us.”

Tony regarded him silently. He knew what humanity was capable of. In the long past of many nations one sub-group had tried always to wipe out or suppress another, be it for belief, ethnic background, religion, heritage, gender, or just because someone had looked wrong at another guy or girl. Wars had been waged over minor matters. So if a race of giant, alien robots revealed themselves… yeah, there would be upheavals and fear.

“Let’s burn that bridge when we get there,” he only said, smiling tightly.

Until then he would use his influence and his company, as well as those he had bought or taken over, to help one way or the other. Many nation leaders knew about the Autobots already, about the war, about the danger. For close to fifteen years now the alien visitors had lived among them. For a lot longer the US had had Sector Seven take care of the knowledge.

Maybe it would take another twenty to thirty years for the truth to come out fully.

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Sam had needed distance and Bumblebee had let his partner drive wherever he wanted. Emotions at the base were still high and with so much going on, with mechs coming and going, the technopath had been rather stressed. While Sam insisted he needed to train in this, too, Ratchet had been close to ordered him away. Sam had been thrown into the proverbial melting pot of emotions of all kinds and despite his past training and his strong shields, he couldn’t handle it for a prolonged time.

So he had packed a bag and just driven off. At the end of the day they were in a small town in the middle of nowhere called Lost. It was a fitting name. A lot of stores had gone out of business and aside from a café and a mini-mart only a hardware store had survived. Sam found a Bed & Breakfast, which hadn’t been hard since it was the only one and the hotel outside of Lost no longer existed. Margaret rented him a clean room with en suite facilities, and she even gave him a hand drawn map of what to see in the area.

“Ever since the highway was built and the coal mine was closed we don’t get too many visitors,” the elderly woman told him. “The bridge that leads here needs repairs and was closed, so cars only get here by taking the scenic route through Westville and Coales. No one does that.”

Sam had taken the map and he and Bumblebee had gone sight-seeing. It had been relaxing and fun.

“Where else do you want to go?” the mech asked as they enjoyed the solitude.

Sam shrugged. “No idea. Just… drive. Until we get a call that you are needed, I think we have a lot of time on our hands. And I never really just… went wherever the road took me.”

“Sounds good,” Bumblebee agreed. “I’d like to get to know more of your planet.”

“This is only a small part, Bee.”

“It’s still your planet.”

Sam patted the hood and slid off it. “Let’s see what they have for dinner at the café. And tomorrow we’ll find some off-the-track town or place that no one’s seen in decades.”

Bumblebee chuckled. “Sounds like fun.”

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An alarm rang through the base. It wasn’t one that announced an incoming enemy, or an immediate explosion. It was a summoning; an urgent summoning.

“Ratchet?” Optimus demanded as he strode into the main control room.

The medic looked harried and his optics flared with the upheaval inside him. “Something’s happening to Cybertron, Prime,” he replied tersely. “Blaster has a live feed and Perceptor has sounded the alarm.”

On the large screen the image of Cybertron could be seen. The milky reality bubble was changing color and some kind of lightning bolts were racing over it.

“What is this?” Jazz asked, confused.

He and Barricade had joined the small group of alerted soldiers and Autobots. Lennox was there, as was Epps.

“We don’t know,” Scrapper answered and his face popped up in a smaller window on the screen. “Energy readings are off the chart.”

“It can’t be the space bridge. It was destroyed when Soundwave brought Cybertron here,” Perceptor added.

The bubble seemed to pulse and quiver.

“This is not good,” Will murmured.

Prime only nodded.

“Energy spikes are increasing at impossible numbers,” Perceptor called. “The maximum curves are way off the chart.”

Small bursts of explosions could be seen.

“That’s the rest of the space bridge going off,” Ratchet told them. “Whatever is happening to the reality bubble, it’s quite aggressive.”

There was a squeal of alarm and something bright flashed over the screen, then klaxons sounded through the speakers.

The intensity of the light increased and the maelstrom twisted completely out of shape.

“Scrapper, report!” Optimus called.

There was no reply and the images from the Ark were grainy, but finally they stabilized.

“We have lost contact to all satellites,” the Constructicon leader said, leaning over the camera that relayed his image. “There has been a massive energy surge. We’re trying to establish contact to Steeljaw or Eject, but haven’t been able to.”

Jazz immediately went to a small terminal and called on Blaster, but the communications specialist couldn’t help them either. He was frantically trying to contact his symbiotes.

“I have a weak signal from Eject,” Blaster finally said, voice laced heavily with worry. “But nothing on Steeljaw.”

“Understood.”

“Prime, this is Prowl. We’re on our way,” the tactician could be heard. “Our sensors aren’t picking up a lot so far, mostly energy interference and spikes of radiation. Visual is not yet possible.”

And suddenly there was a grainy image that cleared up more and more. Optimus leaned heavily onto the table, fingers clenching around the edge of the table top.

“No…”

“Radiation is still high,” Scrapper said, a voice in the background. “Energy displacement was massive, but not from space bridge teleportation. This wasn’t an artificial wormhole or anything.”

“What was it?” Optimus asked levelly.

“I can’t say, Prime. My best guess?” The red optics were filled with fear. “The reality bubble collapsed in on itself. It was a possibility since the bubble construct was too unstable. Soundwave forced space to bend to his will, but he had never perfected the space bridge technology. This was the result.”

“Cybertron… collapsed?” Ratchet exclaimed.

“Possible,” Perceptor spoke up. “Or it was pulled back to its original position. There’s also a good likelihood that it ended up somewhere else completely. Or is now stuck between realities or dimensions.”

Everyone looked aghast.

“Prowl, return to the Ark,” Optimus ordered. “Refuel, choose a crew and return to Cybertron.”

Prowl nodded. “Understood.”

“Scrapper, I want the Spook outfitted with whatever is necessary to scan for Cybertron. If the collapse brought it close to the original position I want to know.”

Scrapper nodded. “Will do, Prime. We’ll be ready when she comes in.”

Optimus turned to face his men. No words were spoken; all were simply trying to work through the shock of what had happened.

“We’ll know more the moment Prowl has reached the coordinates,” Optimus finally said. The silence had lasted only ten seconds. It had felt like an eternity.

“If Soundwave is responsible for Cybertron’s destruction, I’ll dismember him wire by chip by bolt,” Ironhide growled, optics flashing.

“Even if Cybertron isn’t back at its original coordinates it might still be whole somewhere else,” Ratchet said.

“Unless we find it, we might never know,” Prime added.

Ironhide snarled and turned around, stalking away.

Optimus gazed at the empty screen, feeling his own spark constrict with the prospect of truly having lost their home. Of course, the chances of reviving their dying world had been minimal, but as long as Cybertron had been there, there had been hope.

Soundwave’s meddling might have destroyed even that now.

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Blaster let his two symbiotes rejoin him, feeling the tiny mechs connect with his support systems, and he immediately ran a check on them. Steeljaw was fine, though a bit low on energon, but Eject had been hit with quite a blast and needed extensive recharge. He downloaded their recordings – visual data, scans and readings – and sent them to the Ark. The others were still at their positions and he reassured them that their brothers were fine. It calmed the busy symbiote frequencies a little and Blaster initiated the recharge cycle for Eject.

Watching the small mech, a part of him in so many ways, Blaster let some of his worry go. He had been afraid of losing Eject and he was simply glad he hadn’t.

The others echoed the sentiment. They were all interconnected and they would all feel the loss. It was bad enough that they had lost Cybertron once again.

First to the war and Megatron’s madness; then to the reality bubble.

::Do you think it survived?:: Rewind asked.

::I don’t know. I hope and pray::

It was all they could do.

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Bumblebee had returned to base, but Sam had asked to be dropped off at his parents. The events as of late had him want to be with his family for a while, and his parents had been curious as to what had happened. He had told them everything and both Ron and Judy had been shocked and sad.

“Losing your planet once more,” his mother said, shaking her head. “It is so sad. And it must be painful. How is Bumblebee?”

Sam smiled, warmed a little by his mother’s concern. “He’s okay. I mean, it’s not like Cybertron exploded into a million pieces. It was never really here, just… encased in a reality bubble.”

“It was here,” Ron simply said. “It was here for all of them to see it and now there’s the distinct possibility it’s gone for good. This is hard on everyone.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Still, there’s hope.”

His mother nodded, but his father didn’t look convinced.

Bumblebee didn’t return until the next morning with the news of the Spook’s mission.

“What if this Soundwave character screwed everything up some more and your planet is gone?” Ron asked as he stood in the garage with the yellow Camaro.

Bumblebee made an unhappy sound. “We have to accept it. We’ll be truly without a home then.”

“Your planet was dead. It’s what you told me.”

“I think we all had hopes that one day we might find a way to revive it.”

Ron nodded slowly. “And now even that is gone.”

“Yes.”

“Poor baby,” Judy spoke up, looking very empathetic.

“Don’t hug the car, Judy,” Ron told her with a sigh.

She shot him a dark look and Sam hid a grin. He felt Bumblebee’s amusement overshadow the feeling of loss that was permeating the Autobot’s spark.

“If my son can hug his car, so can I,” Judy stated, but she only placed a motherly hand on Bumblebee’s hood.

“Thank you,” Bumblebee said politely.

Sam grinned more.

“And you know that our garage is your garage,” she went on. “This is your home and you’re always welcome here.”

“Judy,” Ron groaned.

“Thank you, Judy,” the mech repeated.

Sam bit back a laugh. “Mom…”

“What?” she challenged. “This is your home, and Bumblebee’s. Losing your whole homeworld is bad enough. A person needs somewhere to come home to.”

“I appreciate it,” Bumblebee said warmly.

She patted the hood again. “Just you remember it, Bee.”

Sam felt Bumblebee’s love for his parents and he reflected it. He loved them very much and he had never felt this belonging more strongly than now. They had accepted Bumblebee, they had accepted his choices, they had welcomed Bumblebee as his partner.

“How about a barbecue?” Ron offered, spreading his hands.

“Now?” Sam blurted.

“This weekend. Invite your friends.”

Sam exchanged a bemused look with his mother, then shrugged.

::Bee, I think you should call Ironhide and Will. I’ll see if Trent’s free.::

Bumblebee radiated amusement and agreed.

Ron clapped his hands. “Well, that’s settled then. Judy, let’s go over to Stew and order the best beef and pork he has.”

Judy sighed, shook her head, gave her son a smile, then hurried after her husband as Ron detailed just what he wanted to throw onto the grill.

::It’ll be fun:: Bumblebee told him, smiling.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, grinning.

And it was a way to unwind, to forget, to be among friends.

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The Spook sat in the middle of space, surrounded by nothingness. A tiny sun reflected off the hull. It was a lot farther away than Earth’s sun was from the only inhabited planet of the solar system, but it had also never been needed to give life to a planet. Cybertron’s sun had shed enough light for the mechanoid life forms on the planet’s surface.

Prowl stood behind Sideswipe and Jolt, gazing at the image on the forward view screen. Or lack thereof.

“We’ve reached Cybertron’s coordinates,” Jolt said, rather superfluously.

“Yeah,” Sideswipe murmured. “And it’s not here.”

Prowl was silent, blue optics fixed on where he knew his home world should be.

It wasn’t.

“Deploy the probes,” he ordered.

Jolt did and dozens of SI satellites swarmed from the belly of the shuttle, immediately taking readings. All was collected by the Spook for later evaluation.

“So if it isn’t here,” Sideswipe mused, “we got only a few possibilities left, right?”

Prowl refused to answer. He didn’t want to ponder possibilities. He would leave that to the scientists like Perceptor or Hook. Right now he was solely focused on his task; it also stopped him from thinking about the worst-case scenario.

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The probes came back an hour later. Scans indicated not the slightest blip from their home planet. It had disappeared from its old position and there was nothing that indicated where the space bridge might have transported it.

Prowl felt his spark grow heavy with the implications. He reached for the comm. and sent a heavily encoded message to Nevada, to Optimus Prime.

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Optimus wasn’t alone as he stood outside the base, gazing at the sky above. At his side stood the younger Prime, optics dimmed, his expression speaking of the same shock Optimus felt. They had received the encoded message and they knew what it meant: Cybertron was lost. Whether it was lost forever somewhere in the vastness of space or completely because the space bridge had destroyed it or it might have ended up between dimensional folds – or even another reality -- couldn’t be determined. But now Earth was truly their only home.

He felt the pulse of the other Prime’s spark, a curious effect he had noticed for a little while now. Maybe it had to do with the closeness of their sparks because of their shared heritage. Rodimus’ past had just caught up with his present, with Hot Rod, and he was still partially reeling from the changes. Optimus had helped him as best as he could, but he also needed the younger mech to function as a Prime.

And he did. Remarkably well, too.

Optimus gazed at the smaller mech. Rodimus had wordlessly kept him company in his until then lonely vigil and they hadn’t talked at all.

Another pulse had Optimus meet the blue optics.

“You feel it, too, hm?” Rodimus asked.

“Yes, Rodimus. I believe it to be a side effect of our heritage.”

The younger mech chuckled. “Probably. There were thirteen once, right? And they were all connected. We’re what’s left of a Dynasty.”

Optimus nodded. “We and Will Lennox and Sam Witwicky. To a degree, even Tony Stark.”

“Don’t tell Tony.”

“You didn’t?” the larger mech rumbled, amusement swinging in his voice.”

“Hell, no!” Rodimus laughed. “He’s a smug bastard already.”

It got him a chuckle.

“Do you feel a connection to Lennox or Sam?” Rodimus asked.

“I connected to Will,” Optimus answered. “After that I never noticed any pulses. Sam has a different connection to all of us, but not me specifically.”

“So it’s a Cybertronian thing?”

“I believe it’s because of our sparks.”

Rodimus gazed at the darkness again, very well able to see by employing different kinds of sensory equipment.

“I never noticed anything before.”

“Maybe it wasn’t time.”

He glanced at the older Prime again and nearly laughed. Yeah. Right. Not the time. They had to lose the Allspark first, kill Megatron, strand all across the universe… and now probably lose their homeworld on top of it. Yeah. It hadn’t been time.

He knew they all played a role. He was a Prime by heritage, by birth. He belonged to an ancient Dynasty that had passed on something to him. The Allspark had been lost, but the heritage of that had been dispersed not only into the universe, but also into Lennox. He possessed the genetic matrix of Cybertron. It was currently useless, but it wasn’t lost.

“You think Cybertron is gone?”

Optimus gave a soft, slightly rattling sigh. “I hope not, but unless Prowl can find a trace, we have to believe it lost.”

“And the Decepticons?”

“Soundwave made a giant miscalculation. He will lose support and loyalty. Starscream has nothing to lose and nothing to gain. We don’t know where he is, what he might plan. We’ll keep our optics and audios open.”

The Constructicons were currently using the two Ghosts to get to the remains of the space bridge to haul what was left back to the Ark to study it. Hook and Perceptor were already itching to get a first look at what Soundwave had created.

All of it would take time and Rodimus hoped they had time. They needed it.

“I think I’ll take a drive around,” the younger Prime finally said, making a vague gesture. “Take my mind off things.”

Optimus smiled. “I’ll see you at the base,” he answered, sounding almost casual.

Rodimus grinned, gave him an equally casual salute, and then transformed.

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It was pure chance that he found himself in Malibu, Point Dume, by sunrise.
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fin for this one