Civil War Ch. 2
Posted: Wed Sep 28, 2011 3:58 pm
Sorry it took so long!
Ch. 1
Civil War Ch. 2
“You sound stressed.”
“Really? I just finished meditating.”
“You still do that?”
“Of course. It’s the only way to prevent me from going insane from everything that I have to put up with these days. Works even better when I meditate in beast mode.”
“I can’t believe you still use it.”
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I find it good for my health and mind. There’s something about being a horse that just lets me feel carefree. It’s a rare emotion nowadays.”
Orcariner walked through the camp with Whitegrazer’s hologram being projected from his tactical headset. She was alone in her office away from what she liked to call “The Room of Chaos” where everyone was pestering her for orders, signatures, or whatever matter that needed to be attended to by Simfur’s lead general. Whenever he had talked to her in the command center, Whitegrazer appeared to be on the verge of snapping. It was depressing to see such a placid individual fall into a severe state of distress. She could not prevent her current position. The high council saw her records and instantly gave her the responsibility of saving one of Cybertron’s most important cities. While many soldiers in the war, including Orcariner, were graduates of the Academy, Whitegrazer was actually a teacher there. Her knowledge on the art of war was far beyond what most Cybertronians knew. The fact that she emerged from the Beast Wars as a victor was more than enough to help make up the minds of those in charge. Whitegrazer’s intelligence was the reason why she was tasked with such a daunting role. It was her intelligence that allowed Simfur to stand today. It was her intelligence that led to her current predicament which threatened to imbalance her serenity on a daily basis.
The Maximals had just finished repelling a strike force that tried to retake sectors bravo twelve and thirteen. Since their recent occupation, Orcariner’s soldiers did not push too far due to lack of power and resources. On the other hand, the two sectors they held now were successfully defended from every Predacon attack. Orcariner knew how to coordinate defense. Naturally protective in body and mind, the Maximal maneuvered his troops with a different strategy each day in order to repel the enemy. He had a perfect success rate thus far, but it was at a cost of many lives. Walking through the camp, Orcariner observed the bodies of the wounded and the dead. Marshal Team’s numbers were now at only twenty-six Maximals. With the high council refusing to add more flyers to the group, Orcariner had been working with the same transformers since day one. He had grown attached to them, and the orca felt wrecked every time one of them fell in battle.
“I’m sorry for your losses.”
Orcariner’s eyes darted back to Whitegrazer’s hologram. She had noticed the bodies, and with the orca’s lack of words during the past few minutes, it was easy for her to deduce what he was thinking.
“Your reinforcements arrived,” he said, trying to escape the topic of death, “We’re at about two full companies now. Twelve and thirteen are locked down so it’s time to make the push.”
Whitegrazer just looked back at him. Despite her own troubles back at the command center, she still felt pity for the larger Maximal. While reluctant to change topics so quick, especially since it was downtime, the equine did so out of respect for her friend. She picked up a tablet from her desk and scrolled through files within it.
“I devised a plan the other night right before I sent your back-up,” she said.
Orcariner replied, “Good. Maybe it’ll have more success than what I’ve been drafting up so far.”
“The trick to it is that you’ll only be taking half a company with you,” Whitegrazer continued, “I like what your team has been doing with defending our territories. We shouldn’t take away too many soldiers and compromise what we already have.”
“I’m invading with only fifty Maximals?”
“Quality, not quantity,” she replied, “Being outnumbered isn’t new to you. If you follow the plan accordingly, you should be able to take control of the nearby factory by tomorrow. I understand it’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while now. Our troops in bravo twelve and thirteen could definitely use the supplies. Even without the support of their AAs, Predacon flyers have been blowing up nearly half the stuff I try and send to you. I figured we should emphasize on taking supplies from the enemy himself.”
Orcariner did not immediately respond. The last few attempts he made at taking a factory ended in failure. There were too many stationary guns and heavy defenders for his crew to break through, and the number of casualties only deterred him more from trying again. He much preferred playing the conservative role until a more suitable commanding officer took his place.
“Just follow the plan,” reassured Whitegrazer, “and with a little luck, this will end up very well for our army.”
“Alright,” Orcariner replied, “I’ll gather whatever abled soldiers I can and we’ll launch the attack tonight. Predacons only strike once per day, so we shouldn’t have to worry about our encampment until tomorrow.”
The commander nodded to him.
“Good luck.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
The sun was barely setting when the attack squadron left the camp led by Icebreaker. Orcariner and his selected Marshal members stayed behind and awaited the go-ahead from the smaller troops. The orca found himself pacing in unease. Offensive plans did not reward him often, and when they did it was at a cost of many lives. However, he tried his best to put forth as much faith as possible in his friend’s capabilities. He sincerely hoped that Primus was with Icebreaker all the way.
The initial strike was meant to flank the enemy’s defenses around the nearby factory. By blitzing the Predacons into a state of disarray, Orcariner and his flyers would enter the fray with more ammunition and much needed muscle. While the enemy was easily swayed to fight, it was just as easily convinced to run away in the face on impending defeat. It was one characteristic of the Predacons that Orcariner was able to expose on multiple occasions. The trick was that the Maximals needed to strike at a very quick pace to prevent their foes from falling into a rhythm. The lack of stability would surely lead to panic, as it had for the Maximal high council.
It only took an hour for Icebreaker to send the green light signal. The members of Marshal Team dashed into the air with an overwhelming sound of transformation sequences. Propellers and jets fully powered, the flyers made their aerial charge towards the nearest factory. The orange light of fire penetrated the overwhelming darkness of Simfur’s outskirts. The penguin had done well in distracting the Predacon defenders. The shell shock effect from all of the explosives was enough to send them into the frenzied state of a mob rather than the collected nature of an army. Not waiting for a landing zone to clear, Orcariner motioned to his flyers to bring themselves down on top of the Predacons instead.
“Maximize!” his voice boomed as both a command and a war cry.
Transforming into his bipedal robot form, Orcariner dropped in the middle of a crowd. He almost felt like reveling in the audible crunch of bodies between his heavy body and the ground. The Maximal refrained from any sense of enjoyment. Sadism was one of the many curses war had to offer, and he needed to remember to stay focused before he too succumbed to it.
“Marshals,” he radioed as he powered up his Beacon 2.0, “Regroup with our infantry before we make our final push!”
Cutting a path through the scrambling Predacons, Orcariner rocketed his way towards Icebreaker’s position. More explosions boomed around him as the more heavily armed Marshal soldiers launched their rocket pods and cannons. He wondered if they were doing so out of necessity or out of personal enjoyment. Megatron’s army claimed many lives of their brethren. Orcariner did not care what his troop’s intentions were. He would let them have their revenge.
“Dagger Actual, this is Marshal Actual,” he radioed, “I’m converging on your position so prepare to cease fire.”
“Wilco, Marshal Actual.”
Upon reaching Icebreaker, Orcariner gave him a quick pat on the back and nodded.
“Good job,” the giant said, “They’re on the run so we just have to make sure that we push them out of the region to prevent any counterstrike later in the night.”
He heard Icebreaker shout a command to his forces. The smaller infantry regrouped, readying themselves for one more push. As a solid unit, they charged after the retreating Predacons. Orcariner could not help but notice that there were quite a few Maximals among them. Icebreaker had performed with much efficiency since most of his soldiers were still alive and combat ready. Gunfire roared in unison with bullets and quasar discharges finding their targets. Marshal Team shredded apart the Predacons who dared to make a stand against the aggressors. The Maximals soon found themselves back on streets as the Predacons used the flat terrain to quickly transform and drive away.
Marshal 4 asked, “Should we pursue?”
“Let them be,” replied Orcariner, “They already have a head start, and we won’t catch them once they transform.”
A boom was heard ahead and the titan instinctively raised his arm shield to absorb what felt like an artillery shell. Yells were heard among the Maximal lines as they dispersed. Predacon tanks had arrived.
“So much for preventing a counterstrike,” murmured Icebreaker, readying his launcher.
“I count five of them,” said one the Marshal members who was checking his radar.
Judging by the size of these Predacons, Orcariner figured them to be heavy tanks. Not even the penguin’s frost launcher would be able to slow these opponents. More shells whistled towards them, punching holes through their lines and sending the smaller Maximals flying.
Orcariner barked, “Marshal Team, defend the infantry!”
While larger and more powerful, Marshal Team did not have what the smaller Maximals had: numbers. Such numbers were rapidly depleting with the tanks’ onslaught. Without the infantry, Marshal Team alone would not be able to hold back Predacon retaliation the next morning. Orcariner fired up his bubble shield just in time to stop three shells from taking him apart.
“Marshal 4,” he grunted, “You have a stronger communications package, so I’ll need you to relay coordinates to home base for me.”
Marshal 4 had no energy shielding and was struggling to stand in the midst of heavy fire while defending the other Maximals. Nevertheless, he nodded. Orcariner activated his tactical headset and highlighted the tanks. Upon registering their coordinates, the orca transmitted the data to his comrade who then relayed the information back to Whitegrazer’s staff. The bubble shield then collapsed.
“Don’t fall back!” he commanded, “Keep them where they are!”
Marshal team retaliated by launching their own missiles while the infantry peppered the Predacons with small arms fire. Icebreaker launched his own heavy missiles in a desperate attempt to keep the massive tanks at bay. A faint rumble was heard high above in the skies. Looking up, Orcariner realized that he bubble shield would not recharge in time.
“Marshal Team, gather the infantry around yourselves and brace for impact! Shields up, soldiers!”
Shutting down his Beacon 2.0 process, Orcariner used the sacrificed energy to repower his bubble shield. Radar would be the last thing he needed for what was about to happen. The sudden collapse of gunfire inspired the Predacon tanks to encroach the gap that separated them from the Maximals. Through the transparent deflector shield, Orcariner watched as the enemy’s approach was promptly halted as artillery shells rained from the dark Cybertronian skies. The tanks stood no chance as the high caliber rounds tore them apart in an impressive display of firepower from Whitegrazer’s gunnery team.
“Thanks for the save, Commander Actual,” Orcariner radioed.
“Anytime,” came the reply.
Icebreaker walked up to him, weapon now holstered.
He piped, “Well, the area looks clear. We should sweep the factory.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
The heavy doors groaned as two Marshals struggled to force them open. Now that he was standing in front of it, Orcariner realized that the factory was much larger than he initially assumed. Having never been part of Cybertron’s labor force, the orca was rather ignorant of such things. The sheer size of the building told him that this place must have been very significant to thousands of workers prior to Megatron’s war. If it had been destroyed, an unfathomable amount of civilians would find themselves without jobs once the conflict was resolved.
“Find the lights!” he ordered.
Several troops dashed about with operation flashlights helping them maneuver through the darkness. Orcariner turned on his own search light, using it to lead a squad through the building. The sound of machinery grinding and metal pounding against metal still resonated throughout the darkness. However, no life was found yet.
“How are your scanners?” asked Icebreaker.
“Still warming up,” the larger Maximal replied, “The second bubble shield took a lot out of me so I needed to shut down my other processes. They’ll be back online in a few minutes.”
Icebreaker nodded and pointed his flashlight at the walls of the corridor they were walking down.
He said, “The main production room should be nearby. We can hear it, that’s for sure.”
“The sounds seem like they’re coming from the other side of this wall,” said Orcariner, knocking on the left wall, “But there’s no door.”
Drawing his sword, the titan viciously cut into the metal wall. After a few more swings, Orcariner kicked the weakened section down. They had their door.
The smaller troops snuck through first, securing the area from any potential ambush. Icebreaker and Orcariner followed with their lights scanning the area. The Marshal leader was beginning to feel disturbed by this environment. There were no workers, and yet, the machines were operating by themselves as if they already knew what to build. A few more sweeps with his search light revealed what seemed to be piles of Predacon bodies.
“Did you see that?” he asked Icebreaker.
“Yeah,” the penguin slowly replied, “It looks like they’re stashing their own dead. What for?”
Orcariner shrugged, “Maybe they didn’t have time to give them proper burials?”
His radio cracked with life.
“Marshal Actual, this is Commando 7.”
“I hear you loud and clear, Commando 7. Go ahead.”
“We found the power box for the factory. Lights will be on shortly.”
“Copy that, over and out.”
He turned to Icebreaker and told him the good news. Light would be highly welcomed in this eerie environment. They were exploring what seemed to be a Predacon graveyard instead of a supplies factory. In an instant, the entire building was lit up with white light. The Maximals winced at the sudden lamination and waited for their optics to adjust. Turning off his body lights, Orcariner glanced at his surroundings.
“Primus…”
He was horrified at the sight before him, and judging by the gasps, it seemed that the others were just as shocked. Mechanical arms were moving the Predacon bodies into recycling shredders. The pieces were then moved to the production line.
“They’re recycling their own soldiers!” said a voice.
“That’s insane!”
Orcariner’s eyes met with Icebreakers’. Megatron truly had no honor. Despite disagreeing with the reasoning behind their actions, Orcariner at least respected his enemies enough to bury them in the aftermath of battle. It appeared that Megatron did not care enough for his troops to let them die in peace. Corpse after corpse was shoved into the machines. The sound of tearing metal made the Maximals cringe.
“I don’t get it,” said Icebreaker, “If he’s reusing their bodies, where is he going to get new sparks? He can’t just simply manufacture them can he?”
Orcariner had no answer as he walked down the assembly line. He began to pity every soldier who fell in the name of their tyrannical leader. The pieces of metal were melted by fire and quickly remolded into various pieces needed to build a new soldier. The giant inspected a tread that carried armor plating down the line. They were all identical. Confused, Orcariner quickened his pace. The pattering of footsteps told him that the others were right behind him trying to keep up with his larger strides. Looking at each conveyer belt, the Maximals began to see that each part was being replicated over and over again by the machines. The end of the line came and the squad found themselves staring at a wide open room that was a large as a hanger bay. It was darkened due to the lack of functional lights above it.
“He’s not using sparks,” Orcariner audibly whispered, “He doesn’t need them.”
He switched on his search light and scanned the open room before him. The products were indeed waiting before the small team. Vast rows of vehicles rested in the large space consisting of what appeared to be new designs of heavy tanks and scout motorcycles. From the ceiling, hanger gear held hundreds of mysterious looking jets which were coated in dark blue paint. Every single one of them were produced with a uniform design. They were all designed to be drones.
“What has Megatron done?” asked Icebreaker in disbelief.
“What have I done?” boomed a familiar voice, “I have ushered in a new era for Cybertron!”
The sound of Megatron’s voice frightened the crew into jumping back. The soldiers quickly scanned the region and found no one nearby except for the sleeping drones. It did not take long for them to find their target, however. Blue particles spiraled from the center of the bay, taking the shape of Megatron’s head. Orcariner’s jaw dropped as he looked into the massive eyes of their sworn enemy.
“I see you have found my little secret,” chuckled the gargantuan hologram, “I supposed it could only have been kept behind the curtain for so long before some pest stumbled upon it, yes.”
The hologram’s eyes washed over the tanks and cycles with great pride, and then peered above at the jets.
“What have you done?!” roared Orcariner, “These soldiers died for your idiotic cause!”
Megatron scoffed, “And their deaths have not been in vain, as you can clearly see for yourself.”
“You’ve taken away their sparks! You’ve taken away their individuality! Their freedom!”
“Only to propel them towards a higher calling,” replied Megatron.
Orcariner growled, “You think they would have wanted to become these new breed of Predacon monsters?”
Megatron broke into a loud fit of laughter; one filled more of mockery rather than joviality. He quickly returned Orcariner’s glare with a malicious grin.
“Oh no, young Maximal,” the head said, “Not Predacon.”
A loud sound caught the group’s attention as a stream of lights shone across the bodies of the drone army. Megatron continued to laugh as the sleeping soldiers whirred to life. They all transformed with perfect unison. Even the jets broke free of their holding gear and transformed as a whole unit, slowly descending towards their land-based counterparts. Megatron’s regained his composure as Orcariner and his team slowly backed away. He hissed the word that would forever haunt all of Cybertron for eons to come.
“Vehicon!”
Ch. 1
Civil War Ch. 2
“You sound stressed.”
“Really? I just finished meditating.”
“You still do that?”
“Of course. It’s the only way to prevent me from going insane from everything that I have to put up with these days. Works even better when I meditate in beast mode.”
“I can’t believe you still use it.”
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I find it good for my health and mind. There’s something about being a horse that just lets me feel carefree. It’s a rare emotion nowadays.”
Orcariner walked through the camp with Whitegrazer’s hologram being projected from his tactical headset. She was alone in her office away from what she liked to call “The Room of Chaos” where everyone was pestering her for orders, signatures, or whatever matter that needed to be attended to by Simfur’s lead general. Whenever he had talked to her in the command center, Whitegrazer appeared to be on the verge of snapping. It was depressing to see such a placid individual fall into a severe state of distress. She could not prevent her current position. The high council saw her records and instantly gave her the responsibility of saving one of Cybertron’s most important cities. While many soldiers in the war, including Orcariner, were graduates of the Academy, Whitegrazer was actually a teacher there. Her knowledge on the art of war was far beyond what most Cybertronians knew. The fact that she emerged from the Beast Wars as a victor was more than enough to help make up the minds of those in charge. Whitegrazer’s intelligence was the reason why she was tasked with such a daunting role. It was her intelligence that allowed Simfur to stand today. It was her intelligence that led to her current predicament which threatened to imbalance her serenity on a daily basis.
The Maximals had just finished repelling a strike force that tried to retake sectors bravo twelve and thirteen. Since their recent occupation, Orcariner’s soldiers did not push too far due to lack of power and resources. On the other hand, the two sectors they held now were successfully defended from every Predacon attack. Orcariner knew how to coordinate defense. Naturally protective in body and mind, the Maximal maneuvered his troops with a different strategy each day in order to repel the enemy. He had a perfect success rate thus far, but it was at a cost of many lives. Walking through the camp, Orcariner observed the bodies of the wounded and the dead. Marshal Team’s numbers were now at only twenty-six Maximals. With the high council refusing to add more flyers to the group, Orcariner had been working with the same transformers since day one. He had grown attached to them, and the orca felt wrecked every time one of them fell in battle.
“I’m sorry for your losses.”
Orcariner’s eyes darted back to Whitegrazer’s hologram. She had noticed the bodies, and with the orca’s lack of words during the past few minutes, it was easy for her to deduce what he was thinking.
“Your reinforcements arrived,” he said, trying to escape the topic of death, “We’re at about two full companies now. Twelve and thirteen are locked down so it’s time to make the push.”
Whitegrazer just looked back at him. Despite her own troubles back at the command center, she still felt pity for the larger Maximal. While reluctant to change topics so quick, especially since it was downtime, the equine did so out of respect for her friend. She picked up a tablet from her desk and scrolled through files within it.
“I devised a plan the other night right before I sent your back-up,” she said.
Orcariner replied, “Good. Maybe it’ll have more success than what I’ve been drafting up so far.”
“The trick to it is that you’ll only be taking half a company with you,” Whitegrazer continued, “I like what your team has been doing with defending our territories. We shouldn’t take away too many soldiers and compromise what we already have.”
“I’m invading with only fifty Maximals?”
“Quality, not quantity,” she replied, “Being outnumbered isn’t new to you. If you follow the plan accordingly, you should be able to take control of the nearby factory by tomorrow. I understand it’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while now. Our troops in bravo twelve and thirteen could definitely use the supplies. Even without the support of their AAs, Predacon flyers have been blowing up nearly half the stuff I try and send to you. I figured we should emphasize on taking supplies from the enemy himself.”
Orcariner did not immediately respond. The last few attempts he made at taking a factory ended in failure. There were too many stationary guns and heavy defenders for his crew to break through, and the number of casualties only deterred him more from trying again. He much preferred playing the conservative role until a more suitable commanding officer took his place.
“Just follow the plan,” reassured Whitegrazer, “and with a little luck, this will end up very well for our army.”
“Alright,” Orcariner replied, “I’ll gather whatever abled soldiers I can and we’ll launch the attack tonight. Predacons only strike once per day, so we shouldn’t have to worry about our encampment until tomorrow.”
The commander nodded to him.
“Good luck.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
The sun was barely setting when the attack squadron left the camp led by Icebreaker. Orcariner and his selected Marshal members stayed behind and awaited the go-ahead from the smaller troops. The orca found himself pacing in unease. Offensive plans did not reward him often, and when they did it was at a cost of many lives. However, he tried his best to put forth as much faith as possible in his friend’s capabilities. He sincerely hoped that Primus was with Icebreaker all the way.
The initial strike was meant to flank the enemy’s defenses around the nearby factory. By blitzing the Predacons into a state of disarray, Orcariner and his flyers would enter the fray with more ammunition and much needed muscle. While the enemy was easily swayed to fight, it was just as easily convinced to run away in the face on impending defeat. It was one characteristic of the Predacons that Orcariner was able to expose on multiple occasions. The trick was that the Maximals needed to strike at a very quick pace to prevent their foes from falling into a rhythm. The lack of stability would surely lead to panic, as it had for the Maximal high council.
It only took an hour for Icebreaker to send the green light signal. The members of Marshal Team dashed into the air with an overwhelming sound of transformation sequences. Propellers and jets fully powered, the flyers made their aerial charge towards the nearest factory. The orange light of fire penetrated the overwhelming darkness of Simfur’s outskirts. The penguin had done well in distracting the Predacon defenders. The shell shock effect from all of the explosives was enough to send them into the frenzied state of a mob rather than the collected nature of an army. Not waiting for a landing zone to clear, Orcariner motioned to his flyers to bring themselves down on top of the Predacons instead.
“Maximize!” his voice boomed as both a command and a war cry.
Transforming into his bipedal robot form, Orcariner dropped in the middle of a crowd. He almost felt like reveling in the audible crunch of bodies between his heavy body and the ground. The Maximal refrained from any sense of enjoyment. Sadism was one of the many curses war had to offer, and he needed to remember to stay focused before he too succumbed to it.
“Marshals,” he radioed as he powered up his Beacon 2.0, “Regroup with our infantry before we make our final push!”
Cutting a path through the scrambling Predacons, Orcariner rocketed his way towards Icebreaker’s position. More explosions boomed around him as the more heavily armed Marshal soldiers launched their rocket pods and cannons. He wondered if they were doing so out of necessity or out of personal enjoyment. Megatron’s army claimed many lives of their brethren. Orcariner did not care what his troop’s intentions were. He would let them have their revenge.
“Dagger Actual, this is Marshal Actual,” he radioed, “I’m converging on your position so prepare to cease fire.”
“Wilco, Marshal Actual.”
Upon reaching Icebreaker, Orcariner gave him a quick pat on the back and nodded.
“Good job,” the giant said, “They’re on the run so we just have to make sure that we push them out of the region to prevent any counterstrike later in the night.”
He heard Icebreaker shout a command to his forces. The smaller infantry regrouped, readying themselves for one more push. As a solid unit, they charged after the retreating Predacons. Orcariner could not help but notice that there were quite a few Maximals among them. Icebreaker had performed with much efficiency since most of his soldiers were still alive and combat ready. Gunfire roared in unison with bullets and quasar discharges finding their targets. Marshal Team shredded apart the Predacons who dared to make a stand against the aggressors. The Maximals soon found themselves back on streets as the Predacons used the flat terrain to quickly transform and drive away.
Marshal 4 asked, “Should we pursue?”
“Let them be,” replied Orcariner, “They already have a head start, and we won’t catch them once they transform.”
A boom was heard ahead and the titan instinctively raised his arm shield to absorb what felt like an artillery shell. Yells were heard among the Maximal lines as they dispersed. Predacon tanks had arrived.
“So much for preventing a counterstrike,” murmured Icebreaker, readying his launcher.
“I count five of them,” said one the Marshal members who was checking his radar.
Judging by the size of these Predacons, Orcariner figured them to be heavy tanks. Not even the penguin’s frost launcher would be able to slow these opponents. More shells whistled towards them, punching holes through their lines and sending the smaller Maximals flying.
Orcariner barked, “Marshal Team, defend the infantry!”
While larger and more powerful, Marshal Team did not have what the smaller Maximals had: numbers. Such numbers were rapidly depleting with the tanks’ onslaught. Without the infantry, Marshal Team alone would not be able to hold back Predacon retaliation the next morning. Orcariner fired up his bubble shield just in time to stop three shells from taking him apart.
“Marshal 4,” he grunted, “You have a stronger communications package, so I’ll need you to relay coordinates to home base for me.”
Marshal 4 had no energy shielding and was struggling to stand in the midst of heavy fire while defending the other Maximals. Nevertheless, he nodded. Orcariner activated his tactical headset and highlighted the tanks. Upon registering their coordinates, the orca transmitted the data to his comrade who then relayed the information back to Whitegrazer’s staff. The bubble shield then collapsed.
“Don’t fall back!” he commanded, “Keep them where they are!”
Marshal team retaliated by launching their own missiles while the infantry peppered the Predacons with small arms fire. Icebreaker launched his own heavy missiles in a desperate attempt to keep the massive tanks at bay. A faint rumble was heard high above in the skies. Looking up, Orcariner realized that he bubble shield would not recharge in time.
“Marshal Team, gather the infantry around yourselves and brace for impact! Shields up, soldiers!”
Shutting down his Beacon 2.0 process, Orcariner used the sacrificed energy to repower his bubble shield. Radar would be the last thing he needed for what was about to happen. The sudden collapse of gunfire inspired the Predacon tanks to encroach the gap that separated them from the Maximals. Through the transparent deflector shield, Orcariner watched as the enemy’s approach was promptly halted as artillery shells rained from the dark Cybertronian skies. The tanks stood no chance as the high caliber rounds tore them apart in an impressive display of firepower from Whitegrazer’s gunnery team.
“Thanks for the save, Commander Actual,” Orcariner radioed.
“Anytime,” came the reply.
Icebreaker walked up to him, weapon now holstered.
He piped, “Well, the area looks clear. We should sweep the factory.”
-----------------------------------------------------------
The heavy doors groaned as two Marshals struggled to force them open. Now that he was standing in front of it, Orcariner realized that the factory was much larger than he initially assumed. Having never been part of Cybertron’s labor force, the orca was rather ignorant of such things. The sheer size of the building told him that this place must have been very significant to thousands of workers prior to Megatron’s war. If it had been destroyed, an unfathomable amount of civilians would find themselves without jobs once the conflict was resolved.
“Find the lights!” he ordered.
Several troops dashed about with operation flashlights helping them maneuver through the darkness. Orcariner turned on his own search light, using it to lead a squad through the building. The sound of machinery grinding and metal pounding against metal still resonated throughout the darkness. However, no life was found yet.
“How are your scanners?” asked Icebreaker.
“Still warming up,” the larger Maximal replied, “The second bubble shield took a lot out of me so I needed to shut down my other processes. They’ll be back online in a few minutes.”
Icebreaker nodded and pointed his flashlight at the walls of the corridor they were walking down.
He said, “The main production room should be nearby. We can hear it, that’s for sure.”
“The sounds seem like they’re coming from the other side of this wall,” said Orcariner, knocking on the left wall, “But there’s no door.”
Drawing his sword, the titan viciously cut into the metal wall. After a few more swings, Orcariner kicked the weakened section down. They had their door.
The smaller troops snuck through first, securing the area from any potential ambush. Icebreaker and Orcariner followed with their lights scanning the area. The Marshal leader was beginning to feel disturbed by this environment. There were no workers, and yet, the machines were operating by themselves as if they already knew what to build. A few more sweeps with his search light revealed what seemed to be piles of Predacon bodies.
“Did you see that?” he asked Icebreaker.
“Yeah,” the penguin slowly replied, “It looks like they’re stashing their own dead. What for?”
Orcariner shrugged, “Maybe they didn’t have time to give them proper burials?”
His radio cracked with life.
“Marshal Actual, this is Commando 7.”
“I hear you loud and clear, Commando 7. Go ahead.”
“We found the power box for the factory. Lights will be on shortly.”
“Copy that, over and out.”
He turned to Icebreaker and told him the good news. Light would be highly welcomed in this eerie environment. They were exploring what seemed to be a Predacon graveyard instead of a supplies factory. In an instant, the entire building was lit up with white light. The Maximals winced at the sudden lamination and waited for their optics to adjust. Turning off his body lights, Orcariner glanced at his surroundings.
“Primus…”
He was horrified at the sight before him, and judging by the gasps, it seemed that the others were just as shocked. Mechanical arms were moving the Predacon bodies into recycling shredders. The pieces were then moved to the production line.
“They’re recycling their own soldiers!” said a voice.
“That’s insane!”
Orcariner’s eyes met with Icebreakers’. Megatron truly had no honor. Despite disagreeing with the reasoning behind their actions, Orcariner at least respected his enemies enough to bury them in the aftermath of battle. It appeared that Megatron did not care enough for his troops to let them die in peace. Corpse after corpse was shoved into the machines. The sound of tearing metal made the Maximals cringe.
“I don’t get it,” said Icebreaker, “If he’s reusing their bodies, where is he going to get new sparks? He can’t just simply manufacture them can he?”
Orcariner had no answer as he walked down the assembly line. He began to pity every soldier who fell in the name of their tyrannical leader. The pieces of metal were melted by fire and quickly remolded into various pieces needed to build a new soldier. The giant inspected a tread that carried armor plating down the line. They were all identical. Confused, Orcariner quickened his pace. The pattering of footsteps told him that the others were right behind him trying to keep up with his larger strides. Looking at each conveyer belt, the Maximals began to see that each part was being replicated over and over again by the machines. The end of the line came and the squad found themselves staring at a wide open room that was a large as a hanger bay. It was darkened due to the lack of functional lights above it.
“He’s not using sparks,” Orcariner audibly whispered, “He doesn’t need them.”
He switched on his search light and scanned the open room before him. The products were indeed waiting before the small team. Vast rows of vehicles rested in the large space consisting of what appeared to be new designs of heavy tanks and scout motorcycles. From the ceiling, hanger gear held hundreds of mysterious looking jets which were coated in dark blue paint. Every single one of them were produced with a uniform design. They were all designed to be drones.
“What has Megatron done?” asked Icebreaker in disbelief.
“What have I done?” boomed a familiar voice, “I have ushered in a new era for Cybertron!”
The sound of Megatron’s voice frightened the crew into jumping back. The soldiers quickly scanned the region and found no one nearby except for the sleeping drones. It did not take long for them to find their target, however. Blue particles spiraled from the center of the bay, taking the shape of Megatron’s head. Orcariner’s jaw dropped as he looked into the massive eyes of their sworn enemy.
“I see you have found my little secret,” chuckled the gargantuan hologram, “I supposed it could only have been kept behind the curtain for so long before some pest stumbled upon it, yes.”
The hologram’s eyes washed over the tanks and cycles with great pride, and then peered above at the jets.
“What have you done?!” roared Orcariner, “These soldiers died for your idiotic cause!”
Megatron scoffed, “And their deaths have not been in vain, as you can clearly see for yourself.”
“You’ve taken away their sparks! You’ve taken away their individuality! Their freedom!”
“Only to propel them towards a higher calling,” replied Megatron.
Orcariner growled, “You think they would have wanted to become these new breed of Predacon monsters?”
Megatron broke into a loud fit of laughter; one filled more of mockery rather than joviality. He quickly returned Orcariner’s glare with a malicious grin.
“Oh no, young Maximal,” the head said, “Not Predacon.”
A loud sound caught the group’s attention as a stream of lights shone across the bodies of the drone army. Megatron continued to laugh as the sleeping soldiers whirred to life. They all transformed with perfect unison. Even the jets broke free of their holding gear and transformed as a whole unit, slowly descending towards their land-based counterparts. Megatron’s regained his composure as Orcariner and his team slowly backed away. He hissed the word that would forever haunt all of Cybertron for eons to come.
“Vehicon!”
