Spark of Honor

INTERNAL RECORDS OF DINOBOT, PREDACON SOLDIER

I saw the explosion coming, but nothing could prepare me for the intensity of the firestorm.

I raised one of my arms—my twisted, artificial arm—to ward of the blow. Then, as suddenly as the explosion happened, I was falling.

A hard rain of glass and metal fell down alongside me. I could see the Nemesis, high in the skies above, as explosions racked its systems and its engines. I saw the sun of prehistoric Earth wink at me, perhaps for the last time.

As I twisted, I saw the Earth’s oceans beneath me. Majestic. Blue. They would make for an honorable grave.

I allowed a smile to come to my face. And as I fell, I laughed.

And then, blackness.

Light.

Instead of the emptiness of the Abyss, I found light. I brought my twisted limb to shield my optics from the glare.

I turned my head and saw a small Earth crab scuttling beside my head. I did not know how I had reached the shore, but I was still alive.

Elation and a sense of disappointment filled me. I had been cheated of my honorable death.

A cloud of a memory returned to me. One of a final stand, long ago, in a dark forest. A death of unbeatable odds and noble sacrifice.

That was me that had died . . . wasn’t it? Or was I, Transmetal 2 Dinobot, a simple result of Megatron’s maniacal experimentation? Was I truly the heroic Dinobot of old—or was I something new, different?

I shook the thoughts from my head as I rose to my feet. Perhaps I was not the former Maximal—but I knew for certain that I was no longer a Predacon. I did not know if the seeming destruction of the Nemesis had ended the Beast Wars, but I also knew that I did not belong on this planet. I needed to seek out the Maximals, if they still existed. Turning in the direction of Mount Saint Hillary, I shifted into my mechanical raptor mode, and began my journey.

Days had passed without rest for me. The mountain range of what would become Northern Oregon never seemed to grow any larger. I wondered how much further I could go before I needed to recharge.

I found myself in a deep forest, no closer to my objective, when I decided to rest while I reviewed my situation.

Assuming my robot form, I sat upon a boulder and thought back to my survival. The odds of surviving that explosion were next to none—and the fall from the spacecraft should have ended my life. But I still stood functional, a contradiction to the facts of physics and science.

I had once possessed a portion of Rampage’s spark—could that have spared my life? But how so, when I had felt Rampage’s death?

My thoughts shifted abruptly as I found a piece of scrap metal lying on the ground. Picking it up, I found myself holding a portion of a large insect leg.

“Inferno,” I mumbled. “So the Nemesis killed you. But what of Quickstrike and Waspinator, I wonder?”

Part of my question was answered a moment later, when I found Quickstrike’s head lying in some bushes. Waspinator was nowhere to be found, but based upon my past experiences with the luckless Predacon, I surmised that he must have been incinerated. I allowed myself a small chuckle at that thought.

Casting aside Quickstrike’s cranium, I resumed my march onward, towards Mount Saint Hillary.

A few hours later, I stopped when I heard voices emanating from a gorge. Assuming my robot form, I crept closer, to the edge of the canyon, and then peered downward.

There was a proto-human settlement below; the creatures were living out of numerous caves and had constructed a fire in the center of their settlement. A few waved crude stone axes about as they performed some sort of ceremonial dance.

There was a large chair—a throne of some sort—towards the center, close to the fire. I squinted my optics to get a closer look. There was a large, green figure sitting there . . .

Waspinator.

So, he had survived after all, and had already established himself as a god among these creatures. I felt a twinge of jealousy; had I once had such aspirations for myself?

I determined that I would question Waspinator. He did not know of my defection and my betrayal of Megatron, and I also had superior strength and firepower. I abandoned the cover afforded me by the bushes and began my descent down the steep slope, grabbing at hanging vines and moss to steady myself.

The effect was immediate. The proto-humans immediately began their strange chanting, pointing at me as I strode into their camp. A few of the female proto-humans rushed their children inside their caves, hoping to shield them from me.

I paid them no heed as I made my way to Waspinator. The insect Transformer immediately dropped his drink when he saw me.

“Raptor-bot, please don’t slag Wazzzpinator,” he droned. “I had nothing to do with Megatron.”

“I’m not here to end your pathetic existence,” I growled at him. “I only want answers.”

Had his massive eyes been capable of conveying emotion, I believe that Waspinator would have shown relief. “Wazzzpinator will of course help Raptor-bot,” he stated.

“Megatron and the Predacons,” I started, “what happened to them?”

Waspinator crossed his fingers nervously. “You and Megatron took the big ship and told Wazzzpinator to destroy the humans. But Wazzzzpinator did not want to, he saw Ant-bot and Scorpion-bot get slagged by the ship in the sky. Then Wazzzzpinator saw the ship blow up, in a huge fireball!”

“And what of the Maximals? What happened to them?”

Waspinator used one of his fingers to scratch nervously at one of his antenna. “Wazzzzpinator does not know, he thinks that maybe they left Earth. Wazzzzpinator saw a ship take off from near the Ark, he did.”

“And what about the others? Did any other Predacons survive?”

“Wazzzpinator does not know. Thinks that maybe he saw Spider-Bot once, but Spider-Bot was grey and Wazzzzpinator did not get a good look before he went away.”

Tarantulas. I would not be surprised if the wily arachnid had managed to survive. But I would take care of Tarantulas later.

“Waspinator, you will take me to the Ark,” I said.

“But Wazzzpinator’s new home is here,” he whined.

“You’ll take me to the Ark or you’ll never see this place again!” I roared at him.

Without any further complaint, but with a look of terror in his massive eyes, Waspinator transformed into his wasp mode. “Grab onto Wazzzpinator’s leg, Raptor-bot,” he stated. “Wazzzzpinator will take you to the Maximal base, but then he will come back here.”

Although Waspinator had the advantage of flight, the trip to the Maximal base was not pleasant. The winds were high, and Waspinator was not the fastest of the Predacon flyers. I also had to endure his constant whining and droning.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours, Waspinator set me down near the old Maximal base. I could already tell that the Maximals had left; the automatic guns had been taken down, and only a few pieces of scrap metal hinted that Optimus Primal and his followers had been there at all.

Waspinator assumed his robot form behind me. “Wazzzpinator will go back home now that Raptor-bot is where he wants to be.”

I spun around suddenly, pinning Waspinator’s arms to his side with my massive claws. Waspinator gulped in terror. “Allow me to set one thing straight,” I told him. “You are to leave Earth, to go back to Cybertron. You will not interfere with the humans anymore.”

“But it’s no fair that Raptor-bot stays on Earth while Wazzzpinator has to leave,” he whined.

I made my point by ripping off one of his arms.

Waspinator let out a gasp of surprise and pain, staring at his severed arm on the ground. I retrieved it and gave it back to him, allowing myself to smile as Waspinator placed it back in its joint. “Next time, Waspinator,” I told him, “I won’t ask so politely. You have the power of flight; go back home now before I see fit to destroy you.”

In a flurry of mumbling and buzzing, Waspinator took to the sky. I saw with a sense of relief that he was heading into the upper atmosphere, in the direction opposite the human settlement.

As the sun set in the Western sky, I turned my way towards the Maximal base, and made my entry.

Waspinator was right. The Maximals had already left.

The inside of their base was cold and silent, reminiscent of a tomb. I made my way through their former lair, my footsteps sounding painfully lonely against the dark confines of the cavern.

I glanced at an old holo-chess table, and a ghost of a memory returned to me. Dancing on the edge of my consciousness, I remembered . . .

A game. A game that I had perhaps played in my spare time. It was a game of high intensity, of strong emotions. I remembered . . .

Rattrap. That vermin.

Despite my current situation, I allowed another smile to play on my lips. I still did not know if I was truly the Dinobot of old, or if I was a new construct, but I could, at least, find solace in memories. Even if they weren’t my own.

I continued my investigation of the old outpost; sometimes, random memories threatened to overwhelm me; at other times, I felt painfully empty.

Soon enough, though, I stood before what the Maximals had fought so hard to protect during their last days on Earth; the Ark.

Inside was the power to re-write the histories of both Earth and Cybertron; a power so great that even Unicron, the Chaos-Bringer himself, feared it.

I found myself standing at the feet of Optimus Prime, the greatest leader the Cybertronian race had ever known. Against another wall lay the prone form of his nemesis, Megatron. Walking carefully over to the Decepticon leader, I gazed into his empty optical receptors. I then reached out and pressed the large, red button upon his torso. Megatron’s chest plate swung open, and I noted with relief that the Maximals had the foresight to return his spark before their departure.

I gazed at Megatron’s spark for a full minute longer before I closed his chest panel. I returned my attention to Prime, and I briefly considered claiming the Matrix for myself. With that sort of power at my disposal, I could become the warlord that I had once dreamed of, in a former time.

But I allowed the dream to die as quickly as it had sprung to life. There was no honor in such an empty and fickle victory.

I returned my stare to the Autobot leader before taking my leave. I noted with a sense of irony that I had once fought tooth and nail for the prize within the dormant volcano, and now I willingly left it, cold and empty.

Night.

It had been months since I had visited the Ark. I now stood somewhere in what would later become the southern portion of the Yukon. After banishing Waspinator from Earth and leaving the Ark, I determined to allow myself to fall into a non-functional status.

Fate had other plans for me. I had not recharged since before the Nemesis fell, but I did not falter. My energy levels never dipped below an optimal level.

Was the Transmetal 2 technology that advanced—or perhaps it had something to do with the remnant of Rampage’s cursed spark? I was the only sentient being on an otherwise empty planet. Once, I might have reveled in such a proposition. But now, I found myself painfully bored.

Bored . . . and although I am at loathe to admit it, lonely.

That was it. There were no more battles to be won, no more great objectives. There was no longer any honor in victory or in defeat. Earth lay before me, mine for the taking. And yet I could find nothing to do with it.

Another Earth year had passed. I had been between the Ark and the Southern Yukon numerous times, forever pulled back to the old Autobot ship out of a sense of duty. I knew that the ship needed to lie undisturbed, lest I somehow cause a fluctuation in the time stream. But I also felt obligated to ensure that it did not come to any further harm.

I found myself staring into Optimus Prime’s face again. Although his eyes were cold and dark, I still felt as if they were peering into my soul.

I still had not needed to recharge. The damned spark of Rampage kept me operational and forever moving. I understood now why Depth Charge had seen fit to exterminate him; Rampage was not only a twisted killer, but he also spat in the very face of nature. He was an abomination that needed to be destroyed.

And he was a part of me now. Perhaps it would be best, I thought, if I attempted to extract his Spark remnant myself . . .

A scuttling noise behind me pulled me out of my reverie. I scanned the shadows behind me, allowing the large claws on my hand to assume their attack positions.

Silence once again permeated the Ark, but I could feel myself being watched. I spun quickly, and then I saw it.

One of Tarantulas’s drones.

So. Waspinator had been right. The treacherous spider remained functional. Was he planning on claiming the Matrix for himself?

I drove my claw into the drone, smiling with satisfaction as sparks flew from its wriggling form. I found an answer to the creeping madness that had threatened to engulf me for months; I needed to find Tarantulas, and end his maniacal ways.

I had been traveling on foot for only a few minutes when I encountered Tarantulas.

I had halted my march, sensing that there was something amiss in the air. Spinning around quickly, I then hacked apart some bushes to reveal a grey Tarantulas, looking at me with surprise.

“Dinobot,” he stammered, “I thought that you had been destroyed by Megatron.”

“And I could say the same for you, spider,” I growled at him, “but it looks like we’ve both got surprises. And you knew I was alive; don’t you remember me destroying your little toy a few minutes ago?”

“Ah yes, about that,” Tarantulas started, “I set up my base of operations in the Ark a few weeks ago, after the last visit by the Vok.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you didn’t see it? You must have been far away, then. The Vok came to the volcano and resurrected Airrazor and Tigatron, and then spirited them away off to parts unknown. I witnessed the entire thing with my spider drones . . .”

“I thought that you had placed them there only a few weeks ago,” I interrupted.

“Oh no, I’ve had surveillance on the Ark since before the destruction of the Nemesis,” Tarantulas continued. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” he stated, “The Vok recreated them both and took them away, along with another.”

“And why are you so interested?” I asked.

“I don’t exactly enjoy being stuck on this mud ball, if that’s what you mean,” Tarantulas said. “I figure if the Vok were to come to Earth and create several warriors, then there must be big trouble elsewhere in the galaxy. I’m guessing Cybertron, specifically.”

“And why do you say that?”

“Why else would the Vok bother getting Transformers? I set up operations in the Ark to create a ship so that I can get back to Cybertron. There must be trouble in the Tripedicus Council.”

“And why are you so concerned? Aren’t you mainly worried about building your own power base?”

“Exactly!” Tarantulas concluded. “That’s why I need to get to Cybertron, my dear Dinobot. To fill the void left by the Tripedicus Council. And, if you’re interested, I think that Ravage and I may be able to squeeze you in.”

Tarantulas’s willingness to explain this all to me, combined with his overt pleasantries, did not ease my spark. He was acting too far out of character for this to be genuine. The Tarantulas of old would not have offered space on a craft to anybody—unless they had something that he wanted.

I was also concerned about his mention of Ravage. Although I had never met him, I knew the name immediately. The Covert Agent of the Tripedicus Council. I hoped that the name was simply a coincidence, and that Tarantulas had named one of his creations “Ravage.” However, I knew deep down that was not true.

I realized that I was walking into one of Tarantulas’s ploys, but I also wanted off this “mud ball.”

“Show me this craft,” I told him.

Tarantulas had kept his lair in a cave, not too far from where the Darkside had originally crashed. Spider drones littered the ceiling, and there were several tubes of a mysterious liquid in the back side of the cave. There was also a shadowy figure manning a computer screen.

“Dinobot, I don’t believe that you’ve had the honor of meeting Ravage, the one-time Covert Agent of the Tripedicus Council,” Tarantulas began. I stared in the figure for a while in the harsh light afforded me by the dim computer monitors. I had seen pictures of Ravage before, but his body was now different.

“Ravage traveled here shortly after the death of the original Dinobot,” Tarantulas said to me, “unfortunately, he was destroyed by the Maximals. I salvaged his head and was able to re-create him with Transmetal 2 technology that I stole from Megatron. He has been my willing compatriot ever since, concealing himself in this lair until after the Beast Wars ended.”

At this, Ravage chuckled. “My loyalty is to the Decepticons,” Ravage said, in a deep, heavily accented voice. “After my seeming destruction and subsequent resurrection, Tarantulas convinced me to keep my existence a secret, feeling that my continued presence in the Beast Wars would only complicate them.”

“However, with Megatron now dead or captured,” Ravage continued, “I must return to Cybertron to fulfill my agenda.”

“Our agenda, Ravage,” Tarantulas interrupted. “Once we take the Council for ourselves, we can re-launch the Decepticon Empire.”

I stifled a laugh. Tarantulas cared nothing for the Decepticons; he had simply told Ravage this to get him along in his scheme. Tarantulas would use any platform to grab power for himself. He was just like any other tyrant. Ravage undoubtedly knew this, but said nothing in return to Tarantulas’s comment.

I decided to change the subject. “That explains why Ravage is here,” I stated, “but the last time I checked on you, spider, you were purple.”

“You underestimate me, Dinobot,” Tarantulas laughed. “The reason is quite simple. Captured Vok technology. I had upgraded myself without Megatron’s knowing. After my destruction, I was rather quickly and efficiently resurrected into this stronger, faster body.”

“So you and Ravage have achieved immortality.”

“Sadly, no. It was a one-time event. Although we are considerably more powerful than most other Predacons . . .”

At this Ravage coughed slightly.

“Or Decepticons,” Tarantulas continued, “we are still mortal.”

Tarantulas and Ravage stared at me for a long moment. The silence in the cavern was stifling, and I began to feel a tension in the air.

“But enough about us,” Tarantulas stated. “You have yet to tell us about your survival, Dinobot.”

“Just luck,” I informed him. “Nothing more.”

Tarantulas’s eyes narrowed. “I see,” was all he stated. After another uncomfortable few seconds, he diverted his attention. “Well, I suppose that you’ll want to see the ship,” he said. “I was able to outfit one of the Ark’s old escape pods into a working vessel. Although cramped for the Transformers of old, it will have more than enough room to accommodate the three of us.”

He then led me to the furthest corner of the cave, pointing at a massive object against the rock wall.

“This is our ship,” Tarantulas stated. “Using the trajectory we traveled on initially, we will be able to take our ship directly through the time portal.”

At this statement, I snorted. “But what if the portal is closed by now?” I asked.

Tarantulas cackled. “Dinobot, forgive me when I say that you are a cretin. A time portal does not simply exist at a certain point in time; it exists at a certain point in space throughout time. It doesn’t matter if I were to travel through that sector of space now or in seven million years, I would still be projected forward or backward through time.”

“Then how do you guide your ship through that?” I asked.

“Quite simply. Although the distortion exists throughout the space-time continuum, it does have a single ‘end point,’ a point at which the temporal disturbance congregates—or, more precisely, a when.”

“I have no idea what you mean, spider.”

Tarantulas laughed slightly. “Allow me to use an analogy. Let us assume, shall we, that the time stream is like a river. It doesn’t matter if you jump in the river from the mountains it flows from, or the middle, or near its end, you will eventually fall into the ocean. The time stream operates in the same way—only it flows from both extremes.”

“And where—or rather, when—is that ‘end point?’”

“Why, now! How else were we transported back in time four million years, along with Depth Charge, who arrived in the Beast Wars later?”

“But what about the Ark? Why did the Autobot vessel not encounter the temporal disturbance when it crashed here?”

“Because they arrived along a different trajectory.”

“But that means that it was quite a coincidence that Depth Charge just happened to pass through the same vector the Avalon did,” I pointed out.

“Not really,” Tarantulas stated. “I’ve surmised that Depth Charge was following the ion trail left by the Axalon, and so he went through the disturbance, as well.”

“So it’s possible that somebody else could enter the disturbance?” I asked.

“Possible, yes. But not likely. Space is a very big place, Dinobot, and the likelihood of a ship taking our exact route by chance is practically none.”

Ravage cleared his throat at the back of the room. “If we plan on taking off in several days,” he stated, “we had best get our preparations under way.”

“Of course, of course,” Tarantulas waved, absentmindedly. “Well, Dinobot,” he stated, “let’s have a look at our salvation, shall we?”

The ship was indeed big enough for all three of us.

There were two seats within, marking that the escape pod had been intended for two Autobots. However, Ravage and Tarantulas had filled the interior with all of Tarantulas’s notes, a couple of spare stasis pods, and extra fuel.

I placed one of my claws upon a stasis pod. “What are these for, spider?” I asked.

“Oh, you know, just in case something happens on the way back to Cybertron.”

“Escape pods for the escape pod?”

“Exactly.”

I looked around briefly, and then pointed out to Tarantulas, “there’s one of these stasis pods that’s already operational.”

This comment seemed to have caught Tarantulas off-guard, but Ravage was quick to answer. “We’ve got one pod on stand-by,”

“That makes no sense,” I pointed out. “There are three of us. Why would only one pod be readied?”

“We could squeeze inside,” Tarantulas offered.

“You’re lying to me, spider,” I spat at him. “I know that there’s something that you want from me, and you’re trying to play me for a fool.”

Tarantulas moved to say something, but Ravage once again interrupted. “Of course not,” he stated. “Why would we want anything from you, a fellow Predacon? We are simply trying to get back to Cybertron, that is all. And we think that you could help us. Is that not our goal, Tarantulas?”

“Of course!” the treacherous arachnid remarked.

I spun on Tarantulas. “Do not attempt to double-cross me,” I said, “for if you do, you will find that my claws are unforgiving.”

I pushed Tarantulas against a wall of the escape pod, and then took my leave.

The next few days passed by slowly; my interaction with Ravage and Tarantulas was limited and stilted because of the confrontation that we had earlier. However, they had not demanded that I leave, and so I stayed.

Finally, the day of the launch came. Tarantulas and Ravage were moving a few more boxes into the escape pod when the arachnid called me over.

“Dinobot,” he stated, “we are ready for our launch. Go ahead and get into the pod.”

I stared at the smaller Transformer for a hard moment before stepping inside. As soon as I had entered the pod, Tarantulas pushed me from behind, and Ravage leapt upon my back.

“Quickly, Ravage, get him into the stasis pod,” Tarantulas demanded. “We need his spark.”

Ever since I had arrived at Tarantulas’s camp, I had my suspicions. However, this confirmed it. The two wanted Rampage’s spark in an attempt to power themselves and become the two undisputed leaders of the Predacon council.

Despite their best attempts to wrestle me into the pod, I smiled to myself. They were wasting their time and their energy.

“Fools!” I bellowed. “There is no way that you can wrestle me into that pod!” I quickly threw Tarantulas from my back, and watched with a sense of satisfaction as he slid down the far wall. A quick backhand to Ravage sent him flying against one of the massive chairs in the escape pod.

I strode from the pod, hitting the door release as I did so. The massive bulkhead slid shut behind me, sealing in Tarantulas and Ravage. A sense of satisfaction flowed through me as I heard the bellows of an irate Tarantulas.

I realized with a sense of regret that I could not return to Cybertron; the two Predacons would attempt to wrest Rampage’s spark from me. For now, my place was on Earth. A cursed protector of an evil artifact.

Tarantulas and Ravage made no more attempts to apprehend me. They must have decided to cut their losses and run while they were still functional. I sat upon a boulder and watched the escape pod blast away from Tarantulas’s cave, into the upper atmosphere—and to Cybertron.

I shifted into my raptor mode and strode from the area. Now, I knew for certain that I was the last Earth-bound Transformer, save for those dormant in the Ark.

I considered Tarantulas’s lecture about the time stream. If the portal existed throughout time, as he claimed, that meant that there was a slight possibility that Transformers could arrive on Earth again. Perhaps from my time, or from a time past my own—or maybe even from before the Ark crashed.

Still, the likelihood of that was extremely slim. I sighed internally, realizing that I was the sole defender of Earth and of Rampage’s spark. Once, the original Dinobot had dreamed of dying with honor. And now I, carrying on his legacy, was unable to meet morality. Fate, it seems, has a sense of humor.

Night.

I stood near the Artic circle, watching the lights in the Northern skies. The humans would someday call it the Aurora Borealis, but they had yet to be named in the present. I stood, staring at the magnetic disturbance for a long while.

I had been alone on Earth for years at this point. Tarantulas and Ravage had left long ago, and did not return. I did not see any more appearances by the Vok creatures.

I ventured back to the Ark only once after the falling out with Tarantulas. It still stood empty, desolate. There was nothing more for me to do there, nothing left to protect. And so, I now wandered the wastelands of Earth alone, having no greater goal that protecting the spark of Rampage.

I had pondered how I had obtained Rampage’s incapability of dying—I had felt Rampage succumb to Depth Charge, after all, and had felt the first Dinobot’s personality and memories re-assert themselves within me. I had originally assumed that I had become a mortal.

This was not the case, apparently.

I survived the fall from the Nemesis; I had no need to recharge or to rest. There was no being on Earth that could possibly end my existence.

Still, there was something that kept me alive mentally, if not physically.

I remembered Tarantulas mentioning the time distortion, and how it ran throughout time, how it existed in both the past and the future . . .

I realized that I still had hope.

I had stopped counting the days. There was no need to. I wondered sometimes how I would avoid the humans, when they finally evolved out of that valley. Or if I would someday run into the Autobots and Decepticons, when they awoke in 1984. I hoped that I would have solved my dilemma by then. After all, the future is not fixed, and my choices are my own.

I stood watching the Artic heavens one night, when I noticed a bright yellow streak across the skies. It was followed, a moment later, by another bolt. The unmistakable sound of explosions reached my audio receptors soon after.

I reverted to my raptor form and set out to investigate. I covered the ground quickly, arriving towards where I thought the meteor had crashed.

I saw a few smoke vapors, but was unable to tell where the rock had finally landed. Perhaps it had crashed into an ice pillar and had then been covered up . . .

But I suddenly heard a voice that made me stop in my tracks.

“Skyfire? Skyfire, where are you?”

I recognized that voice . . .

I quickly and silently shifted to my robot form, and peered from behind an ice bank. There was a Transformer standing there, looking around for his lost compatriot.

Starscream.

My eyes narrowed as a delved into deep thought. Starscream couldn’t be here, he was lying deactivated aboard the Ark. And who was this “Skyfire?”

But I quickly remembered my Decepticon history. Starscream had been a scientist before the Great War, and journeyed to Earth with his compatriot, Skyfire. Skyfire had been lost for four million years until he was discovered in 1985 by a Decepticon mining mission.

The time anomaly.

Starscream and Skyfire had passed through it into their future, my present. I realized that I could very well re-write the histories of Cybertron and Earth if I did not keep silent.

However, Starscream’s sensors were extremely acute. He must have seen my infra-red signature, for he spun in my direction.

“Who’s there? Skyfire?”

He peered at my hiding place for a moment, before announcing, “no, it’s too small. It’s something else . . .”

To my horror, he began to walk towards me. I shifted into my raptor mode and ran for the cover of a nearby ice cave.

“Get back here!” Starscream bellowed. He transformed to his jet mode, making the tell-tale sound of the old Decepticons as he transformed. Taking to the sky, Starscream had the clear advantage of the air. I ran for the cave, hoping to avoid any more entanglements with the Decepticon.

Starscream was fast. Way too fast for me.

A blast from his cannon knocked me to my side, sending me skidding across the ice. Before I could right myself, the Decepticon had reverted to his robot mode, and was bending down to pick up my prone form.

I remembered Megatron telling me about the time storm he had caused when he had destroyed Prime’s head aboard the Ark. But now, even as Starscream held me between his fingers, time flowed normally. The fabric of space-time did not tear.

I shifted into my robot mode; Starscream held me up by one of my arms. I stared the massive Decepticon in the face.

“What are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Skyfire?”

“I don’t know,” I spat. “I have nothing more to say.”

“Then you are useless.” Starscream cast me aside, watching with a maniacal glee as I glanced off a massive ice shard. I pushed myself from the ground, staring up at my massive foe.

“You are tougher than you look,” he stated. “Perhaps I misjudged you.”

He stared at me for another long moment, evidently allowing his ingrained computer technology scan me. Suddenly, he uttered a phrase that will haunt me until my deactivation; “By the Spires of Iacon . . . you’re a Transformer.”

The Decepticon picked me up once more, looking at me from face level. “But you’re so small.”

I said nothing.

“I’m detecting an unusual signature from your laser core,” he stated.

My laser core?

By Primus.

The Decepticons originally referred to their sparks as “laser cores.” He had detected Rampage’s spark.

“As much as I question your presence on this planet,” Starscream stated, “I find your laser core even more fascinating. Skyfire, it seems, will have to wait while I solve this mystery.”

Starscream then pinned my body solidly to the ground, preventing me from moving. I watched as a finger on his right hand shifted, revealing a laser cutter in the fingertip.

“This will only hurt for a minute,” the Decepticon smirked.

The agony was intense. Starscream inserted his laser cutter into my chest, sawing upward towards my neck and head. My chest swung upon, revealing Rampage’s spark.

“You’ve got a mutated core,” Starscream stated. “I’ve not seen anything like it; it’s as if two cores are combined together. By my analysis indicates that the mutation lies solely in the right-hand sphere, so that’s the one I’ll take.”

Pain. I had never felt pain before. I bellowed in agony. I watched, my optics fading, as Starscream withdrew Rampage’s spark, emplacing it within his cockpit compartment.

“I thank you kindly, stranger,” Starscream laughed. “Don’t worry, you won’t die—at least not yet. If you find him, maybe that oaf Skyfire can help you out! Now, I’ve got some research—and more than likely, some upgrades to my own body—that I need to perform.”

Starscream took off, following the same path that he had entered by.

I stared at my twisted torso, my optics dimming. I would survive, but I was now only mortal.

Before succumbing to my injuries, I thought about everything that Tarantulas and Starscream had said. Starscream had journeyed forward in time, taking Rampage’s spark from me. From that, he would create his own immortal spark. Rampage would be created based upon Starscream’s spark, which would eventually lead to my own inception. Time traveled full circle.

My future is not fixed . . . is it?

As the Artic wind grew even colder, I laughed.

And then, blackness.