Beast Wars Chronicles Ghosts in the Mists By: Eliot Lefebvre (aka Stormcloud)
The air was still on Cybertron, unnaturally so. Coupled with the lack of a sun, the predominance of chrome instead of green, and the relative silence in the area, Swordstroke felt very much out of his element. He didn't like being removed from his post on Earth so suddenly, especially since it meant going right back to his cold, dead homeworld - a world he had spent a notable amount of time attempting to avoid spending ANY time on. Not that he had really felt in his element at all lately. The confrontation at New Altea... he still hadn't sorted out his feelings about that. Or what he had seen. Their assailant - he recognized him, though he didn't know his name. Somewhere, he knew it was buried in his memories - along with everything else they had dredged up inside him. He had just begun to come to terms with the fact that his was an ancient spark, located on an archielogical expedition and reactivated for scientific purposes, but then everything started coming back like this... He felt the tapping at his shoulder, and snapped out of his reverie as he stood up from the table. He had been sitting there for too long, apparently, and their new commander was due to be there any moment. Swordstroke glanced backwards and nodded at Firebrand, who was obviously waiting for the go-ahead to start getting the unit in order. She walked off, beginning to organize the troops. Swordstroke glanced back at the craft. It was an impressive starship - obviously a garrison ship, designed for prison duty, but also so much more. The heavy armaments made it almost look like it was deisgned as an escort or a cruiser, but the bulky cargo hold said otherwise. Nonetheless, he could see it was well-balanced - it looked as though it could easily outpace most fighters. The /Prophecy/, it was dubbed. Most likely experimental, from the looks of it. "And what mission could be so vital that we need an experimental ship?" he muttered to himself, still lost in thought to some extent. "Good question," muttered Vulcan. Swordstroke glanced back at his fellow Autobot, surprised somewhat - Vulcan had been rather silent since Swordstroke had left him in the middle of Australia. The slender maroon robot shrugged. "It's reasonable, at any rate. What could be of such importance that they would recall a patrol force from Earth - a potential Decepticon target - and grant them usage of an experimental ship?" "One that affects things more drastically than you might think," came a deep, powerful voice from the other end of the room. Both Autobots turned to see the speaker, surprised that his approach had not been heralded. The robot was tall, so much so that he had to stoop to enter the room. His body was a gleaming white, with black and red trim, a large Autobot symbol stamped squarely on his chest. The nose of a plane formed his center torso, making his altmode obvious. He had no mouth, and a bar of light stood in for his eyes, yet somehow he still managed to express his personality on his face. His body was not thickly built, but he still exuded the aura of power and endurance. "Jetifre," whispered Vulcan, seemingly less awestruck by the legendary Autobot warrior. "My, my, my. The plot thickens. What is part of the Autobot elite doing commanding US - and why a scientist and warrior on an experimental garrison ship?" He rubbed his chin, seeming to take in the situation. "This is becoming interesting." As Jetfire strode in, six warriors enterred behind him. They commanded little or no attention from the already-present Autobots, who were still focused on Jetfire. Jetfire waited for a moment, inspecting the area, before he broke the silence. "I apologize for your sudden withdrawl from Earth, but your unit's record was extremely impressive. This mission is of the utmost importance, and I wanted to be absolutely sure that I would have the best by my side." Swordstroke decided to take the initiative and pop the question. "Sir, what IS the mission? We were recalled without any instructions outside of the recall order, and we've gotten no clarifications from the higher-ups. So, if it isn't too much trouble - what IS our mission?" Jetfire seemed to smile, even though it was physically impossible. "Quite the go-getter, Swordstroke. Your dossier said as much." His expression became serious once again, and he sighed. "You all remember the Golden Disk heist? Predacon criminals broke in, stole the disk, and escaped, their whereabouts still unknown to this day." Echelon nodded. "Yeah. A Maximal exploration ship - a V'c'thra-class, one of the first - was in the area and gave pursuit. Neither crew was located after they went to transwarp. The Predacons had to try hard to save face afterwards, since it was largely agreed that Megaplex had given the criminal group the go-ahead and simply left them publicly criminals." He folded his arms, leaning against the side of the /Prophecy/. "But that was five years ago, wasn't it? The crews and the Relic were declared lost." "Yes." Jetfire nodded. "That is still the official stance on the issue. However, Autobot Intelligence has managed to pick up some... interesting tidbits from Decep HQ. Apparently, Shockwave was stowed away on the Maximal ship." That got everyone's attention. "Shockwave?" asked Firebrand, disbelieving. "According to history, he was executed as a war criminal after he was found by the Decepticons, back when we were still working a treaty out. You mean to say that he's still alive?" "We don't know, really," replied Jetfire, shaking his head. "Now, at least. He was alive to land on the planet, and to construct a space bridge for the Decepticons. However, after the Decepticons planned to take out the Maximals and Predacons -" "Hold on a sec!" shouted Swordstroke, losing himself a little. "The Maximal and Predacon crews are - sorry, were - still alive?" "Completely," replied Jetfire. "But after the Decepticon forces planned an assault, the space bridge was destroyed and they lost radio contact with the base. We have no idea what happened afterwards - or, really, what happened before." He sighed again, shaking his head. "It doesn't stop there. We got the coordinates for the space bridge, and guess where they were? Right in the area of Primus Trion's disappearence." "The Maximal general," noted Vulcan, finally speaking up. "The Maximal Elders were in a tizzy over that one, to be certain. Surprised that they don't want someone in on this as well." "They do," came a voice from behind Jetfire. The listeners turned to see a thickly built robot enter - one shorter than Jetfire only slightly, with a decidedly powerful appearence. "The name is Depth Charge. I'm the Maximal delegate for this mission." He glanced around, then looked at Jetfire. "I've got my job to do, and you have yours. So long as you stay out of MY way, I'll happily return the favor for you." "Charming," muttered Vulcan. "An Autobot scientist, a Maximal delegate, a five-year-old case, an unknown planet, and an experimental garrison ship. Oh, this just gets better by the minute. And me without my popcorn." "Our mission has a few primary purposes," continued Jetfire, stealing a questioning glance at Depth Charge first. "First - we are to locate the remaining Decepticons and assess their strength. Second - we are to neutralize as much of the Decepticon force as possible. Third - take into custody all Decepticons we can. This is a clear violation of the Charr Pact, and we intend to at least show the Decepticons as the inciters of any new wars." "What about him?" asked Echelon, waving a hand at Depth Charge. "If we're going to give him backup - and I have a feeling we will have to - we need to know our objectives there as well." Depth Charge snorted. "Fine. My objective is simple - locate the /Starrunner/, evacuate all remaining crew members, and assess the events that led to her disappearence. Nothing more, nothing less." He sighed as he looked at the Autobots still staring at him. "Yes, the Elders gave me leave to deal with the Predacons as I see fit. I don't plan to try and destroy them. I have no stock in politics, and the recent border skirmishes don't concern me. I'm here to save my teammates. Period." "Oh, ARE you?" Vulcan was still talking to himself, though Swordstroke couldn't tell for the life of him why. "Depth Charge... I thought I recognized the name. 'No stock in politics'? But why the deception to an uninvolved faction?" Swordstroke pantomimed stretching and leaning back, when in truth he was just getting closer to talk to Vulcan. "What do you mean by THAT, Vulcan? How does Depth Charge make things so interesting?" "Don't you watch the newsvids, 'Stroke?" Vulcan allowed himself a slight chuckle as Jetfire continued to expound upon the importance of the mission. "Depth Charge isn't just ANY emissary from the Elders - he WAS an Elder, up until recently. He was voted out of his position due to anti-Predacon sentiment, back before we had the Fourth War brewing. Maximals never did want to restart the Great War. Not that they ever had a choice." Swordstroke gaped at Depth Charge, who looked thoroughly bored with the proceedings. An experimental garrison ship, a five-year-old robbery, a missing Maximal general, a former Maximal Elder, a senior Autobot official, and an urgent recall order. *What in Primus's name could all this mean?* he thought. *And... might HE have something to do with this?* Questions, these days, were coming very easily to Swordstroke. Answers remained lacking. * * * * * * * * * * "Answer me, damn it!" shouted Skyscan, her agitation increasing by the moment as Cutout strode around the room. This was hardly what she had expected when she had woken up this morning. "Cutout - you can't be SERIOUS about this! It's absolute madness!" "Madness? Nae, Skyscan, staying here this long was madness." He grabbed another personal item, shoving it into his subspace pocket. He seemed unconcerned with her presence, much as if she was a particularly persistent fly. "Twistout and Shardwing are mad. Shockwave was mad before those two let him die. Nightdagger isn't around any more, but she was certainly mad, and that Primus-damned Megatron is mad as a hatter." He grabbed a bundle of explosives and tossed them into his pocket as well. "Truth be told, we may be the only sane ones left in this place." Skyscan was beginning to weep now. She was usually composed, but she was torn right now. She had found something in Cutout - something that she was very unaccustomed to. Part of her would willingly follow him into the depths of hell. But part of her remembered that Twistout and Shardwing were her patrons, had shielded her from the power politics and aggression of the Decepticons and kept her safe. "Cutout, you've never gotten along with the commanders, but DEFECTION?" "It's not the first time I've considered it, believe me," replied Cutout with an air of indifference. "Perhaps the Predacons will actually treat me with some measure of respect. I may even become a commander." He turned to Skyscan, his eyes flaring with enthusiasm. "We could go together, you know. Both join at the same time. I'm sure that would say something to those bastards in command. We would be the leaders of that rabble faction in seconds -" "Shut up, traitor," came a voice, along with a familiar whine of charging weaponry. Cutout smiled coldly, then turned to see Rebound standing in his doorway, as he had expected. The Decepticon flyer's weapons were pointed at Cutout, his face knotted in anger. "Rebound. I was wondering how long it would take." He laughed, and it was certainly not from humor. "Skyscan and I are going to join the Predacons. I'd invite you to go along, but you're still waiting for your Nightdagger, eh?" Pantomiming shock, Cutout put his hand over his mouth, still smiling. "Oh, wait, that's right. She was MY Nightdagger! YOU were just some worthless warrior who wanted what you couldn't have!" "Good riddance to you, Cutout. I'm not going to stop you." Rebound did not move from his position even an inch. "But I'm not letting you involve anyone else in your delusions of grandeur. Good riddance. Leave Skyscan alone." He glared at Cutout, his eyes glowing a sharp blue. Cutout's reaction - a burst of laughter - was not what Rebound had been looking for. "You are kidding, aren't you?" he asked between bouts of snickering. "Sorry to break this to you, but you can't stop anyone from making their own choices. And right now, Skyscan's choice is -" The laser blast passed cleanly through Cutout's shoulder, like a precision drill. When Rebound had the chance to focus his weaponry, he could avoid the messiness - and usually severe damage - his laser cannons normally generated. Cutout's shock was evident, but there was still no visible change in Rebound. "That was a warning shot, bastard. Skyscan hasn't made any choice - you haven't given her half a chance. I'll do you both a favor. Now get out." Despite his continued show of laughter, Cutout's ire was obviously being raised. "I don't believe that anyone asked for your favors, Rebound." He touched a finger to his shoulder, and brought it away with a trace of lubricant on it. "Now let's avoid this getting nasty, shall we? Move, and I promise I won't harm you at -" When Rebound had called the first shot a warning, he obviously wasn't kidding. The second blast was not focused, but the raw, savage, jagged burst of energy he used in normal combat. It tore off the upper portion of Cutout's arm, leaving scorch marks along the edges and sparking wires in its wake. "Your manipulations got Nightdagger killed, Cutout." His position remained unchanged. "I'm not going to let you hurt another Decepticon like that again. Leave, or I will call the collective force of this outpost down on you." He smirked ever so slightly. "Not that I plan to leave much for them." Skyscan's mouth was locked in an O. "Cutout... you... got Nightdagger...?" It was difficult for her to wrap her mind around. She had suffered for letting her on the roster, been accused of letting it slip her duty. Afterwards, she assumed she had missed Nightdagger's name when she scoured the assault listings. But if Cutout had... then she... "Oh, to the Pits with it," snarled Cutout, storming out of the room, marching out as Rebound warily allowed him passage out into the hall. He got about halfway, then turned and snarled at Rebound. "The next time I see you, Rebound, it will be as I crush your worthless neural net beneath my heel." "Not if I have a thing to say about it," replied Rebound, with less show but just as much venom in his voice. His weapons remained trained on Cutout's back, even after Cutout was out of sight, even when he was certain that the traitor was far beyond the realm of the Decepticons. It was not until Skyscan began to sob that he let down his weaponry, and went in to try to comfort her. * * * * * * * * * * "Get real, Merc," sighed Stormcloud, leaning back in his chair. "There is no way that could be true. You're pulling this out of nowhere." "It's true, Stormcloud," replied Mercutio as gravely as he could. He hovered an inch above the floor, leaning backwards and being supported by some unknown force. Sometimes, the way he used his powers so casually was simply... unnerving. "I might not know everything, but I certainly know more than you would like to think. So give in." Stormcloud sighed again. "I'm telling you, Mercutio, even taking into account all of the mediums of information, there is NO way that Star Wars is harder to understand than Star Trek!" "You're just smug because you were somewhat indoctrined into Earth culture. I'm telling you, I've been studying up on this stuff." Mercutio shrugged. "It's not as cut-and-dry as you would make it out to be." The reply from Stormcloud was cut short by a flashing display on the console before him. He turned away from the former Emissary and began working the screen, attempting to establish a more detailed explanation. Mercutio hovered over, his curiousity aroused. "Is that a good flashing?" asked Mercutio innocently. Stormcloud looked at him with an expression somewhere between anger and amusement, finally settling on cynicism. "Yes, Mercutio, it's a good alarm. You know, like all the other good alarms on this ship. 'Warning! Warning! Ship is running at dangerously efficient levels! Kepp this up and you'll make the boss look bad!' Don't ask stupid questions." "A simple 'no' would have sufficed," muttered Mercutio. "Then if it's bad, exactly what does it mean?" "It means, Mercutio, that another ship has been spotted on our sensors approaching the planet at transwarp with heavy weapons signatures. It means that it's masked its call signal, so we can neither contact the ship nor establish its allegiance. It means, Mercutio, that something really mean is bearing down on us a mile a minute." He looked at Mercutio frankly. "That's not good." "Well, sure, when you put it that way," replied Mercutio, hitting his comm as he landed and stood up straight once again. "Mercutio to Optimus. We've got something of a situation here." ~What is it?~ came the reply. ~And this had better be good.~ "Do you mean good-positive, or good-important? Or just good for you?" ~Answer the question, Mercutio.~ "Fine, be insular," replied Mercutio. "The point is that Feathers here is getting all ruffled about what looks to be a really big and really well-armed spaceship bearing down on the planet. Does that qualify as good?" There was silence from the other end for a moment. Then, the main communications screen fired up. Merctuio shrugged, assuming that either Stormcloud or Optimus had patched the link through to the main screen. ~Stormcloud, can you get me coordinates for the ship's landfall?~ asked Optimus. "Within a minute," replied Stormcloud. "Taking into account normall course deviation, I can get it within about a fifty meter radius." He began to let his fingers fly across the keyboard, bringing up another display. "Looks to be in... Grid Helios. That's Decepticon turf." He looked up at Optimus. "You don't suppose..." ~I wouldn't put it past the 'Cons,~ replied Optimus. ~I'll send a party down there post-haste. Stormcloud, keep tracking the ship.~ "Yes, sir," replied Stormcloud, bringing up the display on the main screen as Optimus's communication winked out. He studied the display, then punched in more keys, as Mercutio mused over what the ship might carry... and how it figured into his destiny. * * * * * * * * * * "Is it just me, or are we among the less popular Maximals?" mused Rattrap, clinging to Airazor's sleek new Transmetal body. The two Maximals streaked across the sky, both in beast mode as Airazor sped them both towards their destination. "Why do you say that, Rattrap?" asked Airazor. She paused for a moment, then as she curved to the side, added, "I ask, against my better judgement." Rattrap shrugged as best he could - something he had become accustomed to doing even in rat mode. "Just strikes me that every single time something's coming down onto the planet that we're not sure about, we get voted in as the advance scouts." He leaned closer to Airazor's head. "The two most lightly armed and armored Maximals, no less. First in line to get vaped, eh?" "Oh, cut it out, Rattrap," sighed Cheetor as he swung next to the other two Maximals. In his paws, he carried Tigatron, who was curled up quite obediently in beast mode. "That's why Tigatron and I are here as backup. If we get into a firefight, we pull out. We just need to see what's landing." "Hmm. A ship in Decepticon territory cloaked from our sensors? Gee, I wonder." He shrugged. "Not that ships have much luck getting off this planet anyways." Airazor dropped Rattrap unceremoniously as she transformed to land. He squawked indignantly as he fell, then began cursing as she caught him before she landed. He sprang up and transformed while Tigatron and Cheetor laughed in tandem with Airazor. "Ingrates," muttered Rattrap. "See if I do any of you a good turn in the future." Still laughing, Tigatron glanced up, and catching the sight of someone, zoomed in on the image with his telescopic vision. It was unmistakably the ship. "It's coming planetside, everyone," he announced. The others quickly stopped laughing and drew their weaponry. "Still can't make out the sigils, but it's close enough for us to distinguish at visual range once the heat shield burns off." He drew his gun, arming it and holding his arm at the ready. The ship came into view, and slowed its past, undergoing minor transformations as it prepped for atmospheric flight. The Maximals kept their weapons readied, and watched carefully as the ship turned, displaying a familiar red sigil. "Is that..." began Cheetor, seemingly awestruck. "It ain't the Domino's Pizza guy, kid," replied Rattrap, gaping at the Autobot sigil. "If the Autobots are here... then that means the Decepticons are in for it!" He smirked. "Now that's the best news I've heard all day." The ship hovered a moment longer, seemingly torn between landing and taking off into the wild blue yonder. Then, it descended and landed, throwing up dirt around it as the Maximals blocked their faces from the blast. A door on the side openend, and Depth Charge stalked out, flanked by six Autobot warriors. They raised their weapons upon seeing the Maximals, but a gesture from Depth Charge convinced them to lower them. "Are you from the Starrunner?" he asked, noticing their sigils. Cheetor shook his head. "The Axalon, originally. Who are you?" Depth Charge's eyes widened. "I'm Depth Charge, the delegate from the Maximal Council," he said, almost in passing. "The Axalon? There are still survivors from that crew? I though the Decepticons would have -" "We took care of them," replied Rattrap. "Though we took a few hits in the process, we did keep alive." He shrugged. "If you're from the Maximal Council, why are you on an Autobot ship?" "Alliances," replied one of the warriors. "Now that the fourth war's brewing, the Maximals and Autobots are throwing in together - for the time being, if nothing else." Something had very quietly been nagging at the back of Tigatron's mind for a while now, and it finally struck him. "Energon," he announced, drawing everyone's gaze instantly - his teammates because they knew what he was thinking, the newcomers because they were completely baffled by his meaning. "This planet has dangerously high energon levels. If you don't do something soon -" "Not to worry," replied Depth Charge, banging his chest. "I'm designed for deep-space exploration. My body's armor is resistant to most forms of harmful energy - energon amongst those forms." He gestured towards the Autobots. "As for them... well, we were able to pick up some hints of what was going on from Decep HQ, and they're equipped with energon shielding." One of the Autobots, a large red-brown robot, stepped forward. "Just a sec. Are the Predacons still on the planet?" Airazor nodded. "Yeah, although they haven't been as active as usual," she replied. "They have broken the peace -" "It doesn't matter," replied Depth Charge, shaking his head. "I was given leave by the Council to deal with the Predacons as I saw fit. Though if they haven't been very active, I don't see why I should bother with -" "Sir!" interjected the large robot. "The Predacons could still be a hindrance to both the Autobot and Maximal missions. With your permission, Malice, Maggot, and I will scout the Predacon base out and keep them occupied until Jetfire gives us the go-ahead." He gestured to two of the other robots. "Please, sir." Depth Charge wasted no time. "Go, then. Treerunner, Squawkbox, and Charger will accompany me to the Maximal base. Tell Jetfire to proceed with the capture of the Decepticons, while we take care of business down here." He smirked at the robot. "Thanks, Burnout." Burnout nodded. Then, he turned back to Maximals. "Where is the Predacon base?" Airazor gestured. "It's a pretty big complex, and a lot of it's hidden now, since they've renovated it. Don't take any unnecessary risks, guys." Burnout nodded, and transformed into a large APT. Behind him, another warrior transformed into an aerial weapons platform, while the female flipped over and transformed to a armored vehicle - by the looks of it, a fast one. The three struck off in the direction Airazor had indicated, moving swiftly despite their size. Depth Charge waved to the inside of the ship, then stepped fully out of it with the other warriors as the platform closed and it began to lift off again. "There are an awful lot of Decepticons on this planet," noted Cheetor. "I hope you brought enough Autobots to take care of them." "Just nine others," replied Depth Charge with a smirk. "But with that ship, that's more than enough." * * * * * * * * * * "Coming up on the Deceptibase, sir," said Fling, letting his hands dance across the controls. He was unaccustomed to the interface, especially since it wasn't designed for a Transformer anything like him, but his skill as a pilot balanced that out. He banked the ship to a position overlooking the base, then set the ship into a holding pattern. "Ready when you are." Jetfire nodded. "Have you sent the message yet? I don't want unnecessary bloodshed..." "Several times," replied Firebrand. "Doesn't look like we have much choice in the matter. Not like we expected otherwise..." Jetfire sighed. "Ready the capture weaponry first. Everyone except for Fling and Echelon, get outside and run interference. Fling, get the assault weaponry primed, but don't open the ports yet - I'd like to avoid destroying them if possible." "Yes, sir," came the reply. Swordstroke, Firebrand, Vulcan, Raiden, Thor, and Helix moved for the exit hatch and leaped out, using retrothruster ports to slow their descent. Jetfire looked onto Deceptibase as the Decepticon assault hatch began opening. Warriors began to pour outward, heading straight towards the Prophecy. Jetfire sighed. "Fling. Activate capture beams, full radius." A massive, greenish cone blasted forth, engulfing the Decepticons. For a moment, they winced, then flickered out as the teleportation engaged. The next wave seemed curious at the disappearance of their comrades, and Jetfire heard the clanging as the teleportation completed and unloaded its victims into the holding cells. "Holding at 17% capacity, sir. Echelon reports that we'll be ready to go again in about fifteen klicks. The next wave shouldn't be here that quickly, but we'll probably fill up before then." Fling looked at Jetfire. "I don't think we can take all of them peacefully." Jetfire said nothing, merely watched as more Decepticons sped at the ship. It was an experimental system, the capture beams, designed to keep the ship from needing extra officers to capture renegades, but simply teleporting the targets into cells. His troops were shielded from the effect by teleport scramblers - they would need them. In truth, Jetfire was glad for the system, especially as he watched it fire once again and capture another wave of Decepticons. It minimized bloodshed... "46% capacity!" exclaimed Fling. "We're filling awfully fast, sir. There will be a fifteen klick delay, but by that point the next wave will have reached -" He was cut short as he saw Vulcan tearing into the appraoching Decepticons with his spread cannon, not damaging them severely but preventing them from directly assaulting the Prophecy. Swordstroke and Firebrand were laying into the hordes as well, while Helix, Raiden, and Thor kept the perimeter clear until the weapons could fire again. Helix, Thor, and Raiden were forced to rely on jet packs to remain airborne, but they were still making excellent progress. The beams fired again, and the Autobots were almost instantly set upon by another wave. "We've got that covered, Fling," replied Jetfire. "Capacity?" "81%, sir." Fling looked at him gravely. "This next shot will only leave a few cells open - not enough to fire again. Shall I open the weapon ports now?" Jetfire nodded slowly. He opened a comm link with his officers, making sure they would not be in the path of the garrison ship's weaponry. "This next shot is going to be the last one we can pull off," he announced. "Once we've fired, disperse and retreat. Only take on any stragglers." Acknowledgement came from the other end as Jetfire heard the weaponry click into place and he watched the capture beam fire one last time, swallowing another swath of Decepticons. He looked at Fling, who seemed to already know the question. "Weapons are primed, sir. Ready to begin at your order." Swallowing hard, Jetfire looked at the base, at the approaching Decepticons. "Begin destruction, Fling. And keep the video running." Fling nodded, and let loose the full firepower of the Prophecy as he flipped on its shields. The assault that hit the Decepticons seemed impossible. The Prophecy was not a small ship - perhaps the size of the Axalon - but the firepower it unleashed was perhaps even greater than that of the Starrunner. The blasts tore past the Decepticon troops, blasting a gaping hole in the side of the Deceptibase. Fling moved the ship lower, and began firing on the base wholeheartedly. Decepticons swarmed against the ship now, but their fire was like raindrops against the Prophecy's shields. Jetfire smirked. The Prophecy's shields were powerful in any case, but they were using one of his systems, a system that redirected any energy discharges back into the field. The 'Cons didn't know it, but they were making their job harder. As the Prophecy's weapons knocked them away and the Autobots outside kept laying into the already-damaged Decepticons, Jetfire sat back. He didn't like being brought to this... but it was impressive. * * * * * * * * * * "Impressive, my dear," noted Twistout as he strode through towards the center of the base. "That ship is shredding our warriors and our base with equal ease. It packs quite a deal of weaponry on it." He glanced down at the data analysis, knowing it had been sent to Decepticon command. "The main weapons array... gamma cannons arranged like a laser array!" He almost laughed, but was cut short as the base shuddered again. Twistout and Shardwing strode into the center. They had called these warriors down fairly early, as soon as they saw that the fight was lost. Skyscan and Rebound were there, Skyscan still seeming to need Rebound as some form of comfort. Roadrunner, Bluntarm, Sniper, and Eventread were there as well, flanked by Nightmare and Charon. The best. Shardwing smiled. These were the only ones who were fit to survive this assault. "As you have no doubt observed, the Autobots are in the process of destroying our base completely," began Shardwing. She looked around the room, and was pleased that none of the troops had reacted noticably to the admission. "We cannot win this battle, it seems. This ship is too powerful, too well-armed. But we will not give up." Skyscan spoke up, recognizing her cue. "Shockwave's old base is submerged several hundred meters away. This area is capable of teleporting us there and keeping us safe until we can emerge again." He voice cracked, and she leaned against Rebound, who put his arm around her. He felt for her, poor girl. Never really a Decepticon like the others... "I do not like the thought of running away from our problems," hissed Nightmare. A general consensus came from behind him. "This is not running away," replied Twistout. "It is a strategic retreat. Decepticon Command has been granted all of our information on the situation. We are now forced to bide our time. Besides..." He smirked. "The others are not fit to survive. They must be weeded out." Once more, the base shuddered around them. Roadrunner walked over and hit a few buttons on the computer console. Shardwing looked towards the door, lost in thought as the teleport activated. *As long as you're on this planet,* she thought. *Juliet, Megatron, Dinobot... and Nightdagger. I'm not leaving you alone on this planet, for my own reasons. Don't get too comfortable...* * * * * * * * * * * The Predacon base loomed before the three warriors as they moved towards it, transforming back to robot mode. "Here they are," noted Malice, stalking towards the base. Her slender, black-red frame was broken up by large weapons arrays mounted in various locations. She moved like a panther as she approached the base, confident and full of pride. "Just as the Maximals indicated," answered Burnout. His frame was massive, although he was not taller than his comrades. The sharp edges and square look he had only added to his appearance of strength. Twin flamethrowers were mounted on either arm, as well as shoulder missile launchers. Maggot stalked slightly behind, his grey-black body still flying slightly above the ground. His appearance was not pleasing, but impressive, with curving edges and oddly pulsing streams of energy visible on his body. His wings fanned out prominently behind him. "I must admit one thing," he said, sighing. "This mission was even easier than Megaplex said it would be." The Autobot sigils flickered out of view, replaced by the more familiar - and more honest - Predacon sigils. "Three moles right under the Autobot noses," smiked Malice. "It's almost a shame we couldn't take a shot at the big guy. But orders are orders, and there's no way I'm going to put this plan at risk." She glanced at Burnout. "Good job covering as a leader figure. Threw more suspicion away from me." Burnout shrugged. "Me, I'm just surprised the names didn't rattle 'em. I mean, Malice and Maggot? They believed an Autobot would take those names?" He shook his head. "Ah, well. So much the better for us." Jetstorm and Fractyl landed nearby, stopping the three Predacons as they walked over. "You're a little off-schedule," remarked Fractyl. "Megaplex gave me the impression that you wouldn't be here for a while longer - maybe even a few more months." He glanced at the trio. "Not that I'm complaining." Malice shrugged. "The Autobots found out more than we thought they would, sooner than we thought they would." She glanced at the base once again. "Pretty impressive remodeling, I must say. Where's Megatron?" "Deposed," replied Jetstorm, knowing precisely what Malice meant. The shock on the female's face was visible. "What? Who could have -" "Blackarachnia," replied Fractyl. "A warriorress whose body is a stolen Maximal pod, but given the memories and thought patterns of a Predacon. She's actually proven quite impressive." He gestured towards the whole area. "Megatron's been kept on as a warrior, but Blackarachnia is firmly in charge. I'm sure she'll be glad to meet you." He looked at he trio frankly, evaluating something in his head. "The original will have to be notified, definitely, but I don't think this should prove to be a massive setback." "No," replied Malice. "Tyrasix - Megatron, sorry - has been conditioned for too long. The plan can't fail now. Not with us so close..." * * * * * * * * * * Jetfire stepped out of the Prophecy, still lost in thought. The older he got, the more he hated war, especially with the Great War once more looming on the horizon. Depth Charge was walking towards the ship, flanked by the Autobot emissaries and a few other Maximals. As he scanned the group, something nagged at the back of his head about the female Maximal, as if he should recognize her from somewhere. He tried to push the thought out of his head. "Did everything go well?" he asked. Depth Charge nodded. "Fairly. The Starrunner is severely damaged - it probably can't leave the planet without more repairs than we have the facilities for. I'd suggest an evac, but the ship's filled to the brim with Decepticons." He shrugged. "Optimus Primal -" he gestured towards the tallest of the other three Maximals "- claims that they haven't been having any massive problems thus far, outside of the Predacons." "Glad to hear it," replied Jetfire. However, his curiosity was once again overtaking him. It was a bad habit of his, to let half of his mind focus on something other than then task at hand. Where had he seen that female before? It wasn't anything about the Maximals, he knew that. Something in the Autobot circles... but why was she with the Maximals, if that was the case? "I would assume that you've informed him..." "About the upcoming war? The de facto truce between the Autobots and the Maximals? The new state of the Maximal Elders?" He said the last one with a little bitterness - something that didn't surprise Jetfire in the least. "Or all of the above? The answer's yes, regardless. After their run- ins with the Decepticons on the planet, they were pretty glad to see some backup. Neogene -" he gestured towards the other Maximal, only slightly shorter than Optimus "- has filed an official report concerning Primus Trion's demise. It backs up the previous suspicions of the Elders that he was not of sound mind..." The Maximal emissary hadn't stopped talking, but Jetfire had stopped listening conciously. He nodded and gave short responses, but he had diverted all attention away from the tirade, partially because it had virtually nothing to do with his assignment, mostly because he couldn't get the Maximal female out of his head. The body was different, definitely, but it was obviously simply protoform modification. She seemed jumpy around the Autobots. Maybe one of the first new Maximals after Fortress's memory loss? It would explain the unease, but Jetfire hadn't really thought much about that generation, and she seemed the wrong age at any rate. Transformers didn't physically age like biological races, but there were signs that only a Transformer could recognize that helped to place ages. Curiosity overwhelmed Jetfire's manners at length. "Who is she?" he asked, gesturing towards the Maximal female. "You haven't mentioned her in any of your political discussions, but she must be here for a reason -" Depth Charge looked somewhat hurt by the stingingly derisive remark, but took it in stride. "We don't have a medic onboard the ship. Since the Decepticons we picked up are technically still protected as government prisoners, we need to give them a full medical examination at first logical opportunity." He gestured towards the female. "Vixen here is the acting chief medical officer for the Starrunner, so I assumed that we could use her to save us time once we get back. Besides, it builds goodwill between the powers that be, right?" "Of course," echoed Jetfire without actually caring what came out of his mouth. The name had been changed, that much was obvious. But why? Why in Primus's name was he remembering a Maximal medic? A thought struck him as he remembered that he wouldn't have heard about her at all in the past five years. What had the Cybertronian News Network been hyping then? It had been something he was interested in... "Did she come on the Axalon?" Depth Charge's face was vacillating between confusion, amusement, and irritation. "Yes, she was one of the protoforms slated for colony duty. She's a registered medic and psychologist by all factions after attending the Crystal City Science University. In addition, she's a low-level telepath and has been trained extensively in psionic science." He finally settled on looking irritated. "Want her measurements, too? Address? Phone number? Details on her husband? Surveillance photos?" The rejoinder went ignored. It was there, Jetfire knew it. Five years ago... a fully-trained medical officer with psionic abilities... a Maximal female... acting under a different name and a slightly different body... doing something newsworthy. Surely finding the cure for some mental disease, or writing a popular book, or some such. So why was this "Vixen" nagging at Jetfire? What was important... It hit him, hit him like a plasma cannon at point-blank range. "Vaxin," he breathed. "Primus, I should have realized that sooner. The dates even coincide. Primus." He shook his head, trying to clear it, wondering if anyone had heard him. Somebody had. Vixen's crossbow was out before anyone knew what was happening, aimed directly at Jetfire. Jetfire saw it and saw where it was aimed, but hadn't lived through the Great War because he was careless or graceless. He sprung into the air, and Vixen lost her bead on him. "Treerunner! Squawkbox! Charger! Apprehend her immediately! Subdue her by any means necessary!" Vixen's face seemed to have gone limp, like a puppet with cut strings. "No need for that," she replied, dropping the crossbows and folding her hand behind her head without any explanation. "I'll go peacefully." She spat on the ground. "But damn you anyways, Jetfire. You and all the rest..." Had Optimus Primal been human, or even slightly more organic, his capillaries would be exploding like grenades. "What is going on, Jetfire?" he exclaimed, foregoing titles and formal address to deal with the immediate problem. "Why is my medical officer being apprehended by your troops?" "Might you try asking yourself why she was trying to kill me in the first place, Optimus?" replied Jetfire, fully understanding the Maximal's confusion. He landed near Vixen, who glared at him out of pure hatred. "Her name isn't Vixen. It's Vaxin. She changed it to hide herself. Same goes for the body alterations. I'd be willing to guess that the form is purposely ill-suited for combat, just to hide the truth..." "What would the truth be, oh wise one?" asked Depth Charge, his voice straddling anger and concern, much like his facial expression. "Vaxin is one of the Autobots' most wanted criminals," replied Jetfire. "She was - and is - the most notorious of the Fortress Gaurdians - trained assassins who were taught to destroy the Autobots in retaliation for what happened to Fortress Maximus. This woman is not a mild-mannered medic with low-key telepathy. She is a powerful telepathic assassin who has killed at least twenty Autobot officials." "That's ludicrous!" snapped Optimus. "Vixen is nothing of the sort! She's edgy around Autobots, but that's just -" "Please, Optimus, call me Vaxin." The commander stopped with his mouth hanging open. Vixen ignored it. "He's telling the truth, Optimus. I am Vaxin of the Fortress Gaurdians." * * * * * * * * * * "You did WHAT?" Optimus looked at Stormcloud frankly. Stormcloud couldn't hurt him - not severely, anyhow. And Stormcloud was definitely aware of that fact, especially considering that he designed the officer database system. But Optimus was also aware that Stormcloud was much nastier when he was angry, and nothing got him quite so angry as Vixen being in danger. "I let them take her into custody, Stormcloud," replied Optimus. He was hoping that time would calm Stormcloud a little. "I didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter. We all owe our lives to Vixen several times over. But the fact remains that she's a terrorist in the Autobot's eyes, and she has to be brought to justice." "Well, that makes everything okay, doesn't it?" His words carried more venom than Optimus had thought possible. Stormcloud didn't seem to care. "You just sent my wife into certain death. Assassination of a government official is an automatic death penalty, you know that." He clenched his fist, letting his eyes flicker down. There was an obvious struggle going on between maintaining his composure and trying to come to terms with what he had just heard. But anger flared again, and he slammed his fist down on the table. "Answer me, you murdering bastard!" That provoked a reaction from the rest of the table. Rattrap was the first one to speak, rising from his seat as he tried to calm his friend. "Dives, come off it. Optimus hasn't pulled the trigger on Vixen. Nobody has yet." He gestured around the table towards the other Maximals. "We're here because we're worried about her, not because we want her to -" "Save it, Rattrap," snapped Stormcloud, glaring back at the shorter Maximal. Rattrap stopped mid-sentence, still standing, mouth still open. The comment wasn't so surprising, but the tone was the sort he had never heard from Stormcloud - at least, not directed towards Rattrap. "What we want and what we actually plan to do are completely different. The rest of you might be willing to let Vixen die, but I'm not nearly so forgiving. I'm getting her out of there even if I have to go in there myself, and I -" "Dad!" Tailwind stood now, shocked. Aside from his ongoing - and pointedly public - fully unsuccessful courting of Nightdagger, Tailwind largely kept to himself, so most were somewhat curious about what he would do in reaction to the chain of events. Nobody ever said Maximals were above a little social voyeurism. "Look, I'm worried about Mom, too, but Rattrap's right. We can't go rushing into something this big half- cocked. Listen to Optimus before you do something we'll all regret." His eyes suddenly took on a very weepy look. "And think of the children!" "You ARE the children, you irreverant little excuse for a Maximal," muttered Nightdagger loudly enough so that everyone could hear her quite clearly. Stormcloud sighed deeply, still obviously fuming, but working towards calm. Optimus didn't know the computer expert had that much anger stored inside of him. For the first time, Optimus truly wondered about Stormcloud - about whether he was just a time bomb waiting to explode for the last time. "Answer me this, Tailwind," replied Stormcloud, not looking at his son. "If we decide to do nothing and I decide to get Vixen out, are you with me or against me?" The thin veil of humor Tailwind had attempted to drape over the situation was shredded, and he recognized that. "I'm with you, Dad. You know that." "Yes, I do," replied Stormcloud, nodding, as much for his benefit as for the rest of the assembled Maximals. He looked down, leaning on the table now. "So what are we going to do, Optimus? There isn't a blessed thing that I can think of to do, and none of us are exactly experts in Autobot law." Skydive and Skyfall shrugged almost in unison. "Don't look at us," said Skyfall. "Besides, I'm pretty sure that there isn't exactly a list of loopholes about assassination - especially when it's been admitted to." He thought for a moment. "Heck, this is all assuming there even is a trial. I don't think Jetfire would opt for a firing squad, but considering the sentence her actions carry, it's within his jurisdiction to demand immediate execution." "Oh, yes, this is just inspiring heaps of confidence," muttered Stormcloud. A thought occurred to Bandit, and she sat up. "Wait a sec. If the whole situation basically boils down to Jetfire's convictions, why don't we stop trying to work things on our end and start with him?" She was greeted by a large number of blank stares, and she sighed. "Why don't we try to convince Jetfire that he should release her?" "Perhaps because the first thing she did was try and kill him?" suggested Mercutio. It was made in his standard flippant manner, but something underneath his voice spoke of a greater rationale behind his speech. Maybe, thought Optimus, he just became more unbearable as the stakes got higher for him. "Much as I loathe to agree with Feathers on anything outside of the color of the sky, I think he might actually be more or less on target with this one. The big question mark is Depth Charge." "He's a former Elder," interjected Neogene. "Must've done something to get himself kicked out. My guess is that his anti-Pred sentiment finally drove him from his position." "What if he has Jetfire's ear?" suggested Bandit. "If we convince him..." "Considering that Depth Charge was one of the most active voices for resuming the Great War, and how staunchly Jetfire opposed taking any hostile action, I wouldn't lose sleep over that possibility," replied Neogene. He shrugged. "I'm sorry I'm not being more helpful, but I never was very good at Maximal politics. Part of why I never got above the rank of subcommander." "That and your cardboard cutout excuse for a personality would do that, yes," muttered Mercutio to himself as much as to the rest of the table. He ignored Neogene's look of disdain, and turned towards Optimus. "We are wasting daylight, Optimus. I would recommend we locate Cavewing and have him make use of his abilities to get Vixen out of the Autobot ship. Immediately." "Sorry, guys. That's not going to happen." Depth Charge's entrance went unheralded by anything but his cryptic comment, so the surprise of the rest of the Maximals was more than slightly justified. Mercutio was the only person who attempted to maintain the appearance of calm. "Speak of the devil," he said, standing - well, somwhere between standing and hovering, as was Mercutio's modus operandi. "Lucky you, you managed to slip in without my immediate notice. But despite your desire to stop us, I think I speak for everyone when I say that we're rather attached to Vixen -" "First off, her name is and always has been Vaxin. For those of you who don't speak archaic Quintesson - Primus knows there are few enough of us who do - it roughly translates as 'black flower'." He shrugged. "The Elders always assumed she had named herself that. Second, you're not going to get her out for one reason - it's not your responsibility." Silence settled over the room. Stormcloud was the first to speak. "Will somebody please be kind enough to tell me what in Primus's name is going on?" Depth Charge walked to the head of the table, nodding at Optimus. "If I may..." Optimus nodded and sat down, motioning for the rest of the standing Maximals to sit as well. "Thanks. I already checked the computer systems - they'll display what I need them to." He leaned over the table, obviously preparing to start speaking for a while. "So... I suppose I had best start at the beginning, shouldn't I?" There was a general murmur of consensus. "All right, then. First of all - we all know that Fortress Maximus was assassinated soon after the formation of the Maximals, right? Common history knowledge. That's the whole reason that there's been such a rift between the Autobots and Maximals for so long. Maximus never actually led the Maximals - it was his assassination and subsequent memory loss that caused the faction to fully coalesce." "The Maximals suspected the Autobots," added Skydive. "But they could never find any proof of it, so war was averted." "Regardless of who pulled the trigger, some of the members of the nascent faction felt that it wasn't enough just to cut diplomatic ties with the Autobots. They wanted to make the Autobots pay. They called themselves the Fortress Gaurdians." Depth Charge swallowed hard, letting a brief silence fall. "The Gaurdians are not one of the bright points in Maximal history, people. Remember that. For all of the sins comitted by the Predacons and Decepticons, the Gaurdians were guilty of just as much. They hunted and killed Autobots - important Autobots, whenever possible. It took an inside informant - Counterpunch - and a concentrated Autobot effort to dissolve the group's core. These people were elite, folks." He called up a display of what looked almost like Vixen... but not quite. Her body was more angular, harder, with what appeared to be armblades. "Enter Vaxin. We don't know much about her past, but it's suspected she's Fortress Maximus's daughter." He waved down the rumors. "Regardless of heritage, she was a particularly deadly member of the Gaurdians. Her psionic abilities enabled her to do so many things that would have otherwise been impossible. The nastiest trick in her book, though, was yanking memories and access codes directly from her victims. I'd wager a guess that she tore her medical knowledge from Fixit before she killed him. She was also one of the few members of the Gaurdians that escaped the dissolution of the group. After one more assassination of a minor official and an attempt on Counterpunch's life - obviously unsuccessful - she completely disappeared from records." "That's when Vixen showed up, isn't it?" asked Optimus morosely. On one hand, he was absolutely apalled by the things Vixen had done. But this was also a woman who had saved his life - and that of the rest of the Maximals - multiple times. "Hard to believe that she never once got caught in all of her assassinations..." "See, Optimus, that's why this isn't your problem. She WAS caught. Multiple times. Even though her current configuration isn't designed for combat, she is a master of escape. She was caught after her failed attempt on Counterpunch, and obviously didn't stick around for trial and conviction." Depth Charge looked around. "Come on, hasn't ANYBODY noticed that for a supposed lifelong medic, she has an awfully well-honed battle instinct?" Rattrap snapped his fingers. "Shockwave!" he exclaimed, remembering the incident between him and the Maximals not so long ago. "He caught her, but she had nearly escaped when we got to her. I wondered how Shockwave would get so cocky..." "My point." Depth Charge sighed. "If Vaxin wanted to escape, it would not be hard - a limited number of Autobots on a grounded ship, on a big planet that hasn't been entirely mapped out? So there's only two possibilities about why she's still in there. The first is that her body and her conciousness have somehow been separated in order to prevent exactly such an occurence. But that's against Autobot regulation, and knowing Jetfire, he wouldn't allow it. So that means that she doesn't WANT out." Stormcloud rose. "That's it. That's the last straw. I don't care what you decide to do - I am going to see her. Now." He stormed out of the room, not even bothering to glance back as Optimus ordered him to take his seat. Depth Charge sighed. "Primus. How have you guys stayed together this long?" * * * * * * * * * * He was HERE. Swordstroke didn't understand how he knew it, but he did. Something clicked inside him, and he knew that he had to fly this course, whatever the reason. He hadn't informed Jetfire of the situation, but he wasn't concerned. The urge was pressing, and now that he was once again around greenery, he was in his element. Whatever that was, anyway. Even as he scanned the area, transforming to robot mode as he landed, he knew that there was something - or someone - in the area, something important. His knowledge that the rest of his unit was behind him didn't come from any knowledge so mysterious, though. "You guys have been tailing me for the better part of an hour. Why the mystery?" "You tell me," snapped Echelon, flipping out of his truck mode to face his commander. "We're following a commander who suddenly and without warning flies off to Primus knows where, but following a very definite flight plan. That doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Neither does teleporting away and leaving more than half the team in the middle of nowhere." Swordstroke turned to look, and Echelon's face bore a great deal of anger. "But we're not even getting into that right now." "It isn't that we don't trust you, sir," said Thor, transformed from weapon truck mode and walking towards Swordstroke, trying to be as much of a peacemaker as he always was. "We'd just like you to fill us in on whatever it is you know all of a sudden. Randomly changing location, looking for things that don't exist - those are benchmarks of insanity, sir." "Great. Now I'm insane." He glanced around. "Helix and Fling aren't here..." "They chose to stay behind," replied Firebrand, her anger showing through. "They no longer care enough to follow your lead, 'Stroke. I don't think I really blame them. You're jumping at shadows, and we can't trust you anymore!" She worked to calm herself, looking at Swordstroke plaintively. "I don't want to me so angry at you, 'Stroke. Let us in already. Let us know what's going on." Swordstroke sighed hard, angrily. "I can't. I want to... but I can't. Because I have no idea what is going on myself." He looked over his teammates. "My spark was found on an archealogical dig, and was reactivated intially for study. I can't access the memories I have stored in my databanks. All I know is that... something told me to come hear. And it wasn't something that I could ignore, even if I wanted to." He clenched his fist. "I can't explain things more clearly... I just have to ask you all to trust me." For a moment, silence settled. Vulcan was the first to speak. "It's about time you came out of the closet, Swordstroke. I was beginning to think the day would never come." That certainly provoked a reaction from Swordstroke. "Wait a minute!" he shouted. "You - you KNEW? Does that mean that you know what's going on with my memories?" Vulcan shook his head. "No, I do not. I will say this: you were NOT resurrected solely to settle scientific curiosity. You were brought back to this world by the pressure of another group that has existed for quite some time." He bowed his head. "I am a member of that group, and we have waited for the discovery of a spark that resembled yours." Echelon's attention had been turned towards Vulcan. "What else aren't you telling us, Vulcan? What group is this, and why in Primus's name would you specifically looking for Swordstroke?" "All in good time," replied Vulcan. "First, let's see what Swordstroke's discovered." He frowned at Echelon. "By the by, you take the name of god far too casually, Echelon. Start showing a little more respect." For a second, Swordstroke hesitated. Then he knelt, feeling his hand along the dirt. Something clicked against his fingers, and a subconcious memory came flooding back to him. "It's here," he said. "I don't know how, but I know it's here. Heck, I even know how to access it." He stopped, looking hard at Vulcan. "Before I do anything, I want your word of honor, Vulcan. You honestly can't tell me what I am? Why my spark is so important?" "I can only tell you who I think you are, and I can't do that now." He bowed his head once again. "There is someone else I must contact before I reveal anything. I can't tell you anything you don't already know. Yours is a very old spark - and if we are correct, then it is also an extremely important one." "Couldn't give him a bit more to go on, Vulcan?" asked Raiden, leaning on his laser cannon. "I'm starting to trust YOU a lot less, if nothing else." Swordstroke ignored his group's bickering. He let his hands fall into place, where he unconciously knew they went. A turn, a click, and something began moving beneath the ground. As Swordstroke and the rest of the group jumped back, something massive and ancient ground to working order with a fantastic cacophony. Dirt and grass fell away as something swung down and inwards, opening the way into a smooth metal corridor straight down. Even as the six Autobots watched, lights embedded in the sides of the corridor flashed to life, stringing downward like someone tracing a line. The age of this facility was tangible, almost, forboding certainly. "We aren't going to be going back to the Prophecy, are we?" asked Thor, his tone somewhere between depressed and anticipatory. "We're going to flaunt orders and fly off in a completely random direction. Again." "Fate does as fate wills," replied Vulcan. Revealing one of his secrets hardly seemed to make the man less cryptic. Swordstroke looked down the corridor, and felt memories struggling at the border of his perception to be heard once again. "There are answers in there, people. You don't have to follow me on this one - but I'm going to get the answers I need." Without another word, he sprang skyward, transformed, and flew into the corridor. There was no delay before the others jumped in after him. * * * * * * * * * * It seemed like yesterday that Stormcloud had watched Vixen die. He had watched her vaporized by a blast of heat so powerful that it could have possibly oblitherated the Axalon from orbit. He later learned that she was alive, that she had been abducted by Shockwave and was being - for lack of a better word - tested. But that moment had been one of the most heart-rending moments in his entire life. Watching her chained to the wall, looking so limp and powerless, he was feeling another one. Her eyes flared open, and she locked gazes with him. "Stormcloud," she said simply. The moment was simultaneously passionate and awkward. "Depth Charge told us about your past," replied Stormcloud, walking up to her. "He claims that among other things, you're a card-carrying master - or mistress - of escape. That you wouldn't have to break a sweat to get out of here." Vixen nodded. "He's not far from the truth, love. I could possess one of the Autobots to unchain me and mentally cloak myself as I left. Or I could dislocate some joints, slip out of these restraints and cause enough chaos to leave me a window. I figured out about a dozen other plans. Those were my personal favorites." Stormcloud's hand rested on her cheek. "Then do it. Get out of here, now, before they execute this penalty. I'm not going to let you die, Vixen, even if it means I have to take down the entire Autobot faction by my lonesome to save you!" There was a pause. "My name is Vaxin, Stormcloud. Vixen doesn't exist - she never did." Her eyes were closed again. "I do love you, Stormcloud, but I couldn't ever tell you about my past. I'm an assassin. Not the sort of girl you take home to mother. I understand the crimes I comitted - that's why I became a medic. I wanted to give life back to the world, to counterbalance all the life I'd taken out. But it looks like one more life has to be taken out first..." "No!" shouted Stormcloud. "I won't accept that, Vixen! Vaxin is dead! You killed her by your own choice. You chose to become a healer, not an assassin. What you have done in the past is done, and nothing can be solved by dwelling on that fact. You taught me that!" "I'm sorry, Stormcloud, but it's the justice I deserved," she replied, now turning her head away. "I can't be the hero you are. Please... please go. I don't want to hurt you any more, not after the horrible things I've done." Another pause settled between the two of them before Stormcloud stepped away. "Don't give up, Vixen. Please." He waited for a moment, hoping she would turn her gaze towards him once again, but her head remained locked. He sighed, then left the room, ready to go back to the Starrunner. His hand was played, and there was no longer a thing he could do to change that. "Stormcloud, right?" Stormcloud looked up, and Jetfire was before him. He was amazed - not only at the force of personality exerted by the far older Autobot, but also by the bodily similarities. He knew that Jetfire had carried some hand in his design, but he had never known that it was in bodily design. "Sir," he replied. "I was just... saying goodbye to my wife. Vixen." Jetfire was surprised, and it showed. Despite having minimal facial features, it was usually quite clear what his emotional state was - at least, to other Transformers. "She didn't mention that she was married. Did you know beforehand about her... well..." "No, I didn't," replied Stormcloud, growing angry for no readily apparent reason. "And you know what, Jetfire? It doesn't change a slagging thing. I still love her, she is still one of the kindest and gentlest souls under any sun, anywhere, and you are still going to kill her. So I don't really much care about what I did and didn't know about her before just now. If you don't mind getting out of my way -" "I knew your father, Stormcloud." The comment silenced the Maximal's tirade. "I was sort of aware of that, yeah," replied Stormcloud at length. "He mentioned you, once or twice. I also know you were involved in my design - looking at you now, I'm guessing the body." Jetfire nodded, almost absently. His mind was focused on his first comment - something important relating to it. "Your father was one of my dearest friends. There weren't many people I would trust, but I trusted your father. His death deeply saddened me." He looked hard at Stormcloud again, seemingly attempting to gaze into Stormcloud's very essence. "How important is Vixen to you, anyways? How tight is your bond?" That provoked a laugh - a bitter, cynical laugh, but a laugh regardless. "Vixen is my existence, Jetfire. She is my sun, moon, and stars. I can't imagine what life will be like without her by my side. She gave me so much strength - so much inspiration - so much EVERYTHING - I just can't explain it." "I don't want to hurt you like that, Stormcloud," replied Jetfire, turning his gaze away from the younger Transformer. "Most Transformers don't subscribe very thoroughly to the doctrine of Primus, but I at least make a habit of trying to understand it. It's the origin of our concept of the afterlife - of Elysium, the five Pits, and Inferno. I'm not so sure that I could live - or die - knowing that your father will meet your wife in Elysium by my hand." "Then don't kill her, Jetfire," snarled Stormcloud, his anger returning as he stormed past Jetfire. "The choice is out of my hands. If you want me to give you some sort of forgiveness... well, keep dreaming. It's not happening. You know where I stand." Jetfire watched him leave for a moment. "So much like his father," he muttered to himself. The same fire, the same passion. It hadn't been so many years since his father had died, had it? So little time before, once again, things fell apart around Jetfire. Peace was shattered, his friends died, and the whole mess that was the Great War began to suck him in again. *But do I have the right to wreak that sort of devestation on somebody else's life?* he thought, still looking in the direction Stormcloud had left in. He rubbed his chin, lost in thought. *With so many people dying around Stormcloud - his father, his mother, his sister - can I honestly be so duty- bound that I would take away one more loved one from his life?* No answer came. It was the questions that were easily asked, not the answers easily found. * * * * * * * * * * The Maximals had assembled at Depth Charge's behest, standing before the Prophecy and waiting to hear Vixen's judgement. Depth Charge stood with his faction, next to Optimus. "If it makes you feel any better, three of the Autobots on this mission were apparently abducted by the Predacons. Six others got relegated to explorative duties and didn't come back." He shrugged. "We're not the only ones who are losing people." "Depth Charge?" "Yeah?" Optimus glared at Depth Charge. "I don't care what you used to be. If you say one more thing, I will make sure that the first Maximal to die today will be you." Depth Charge saw the mix of fury and concern on Optimus's face, and knew he was serious. He shut up. Without any fanfare, the Autobots exited, Vixen chained and in tow. Optimus glanced over to see Stormcloud, to see how he was holding up. He wasn't making any sound, any gesture, just standing stoically. Optimus thought back to the time before Stormcloud and Vixen had found one another, and remembered what it was like trying to deal with the scientist beforehand. *You don't even realize it, do you?* he thought to himself, looking at Jetfire. *Vixen isn't the only one that you'll be executing, Jetfire. If only you had some idea...* The thoughts coalescing in Optimus's head scattered like leaves in a wind as Jetfire began speaking. His rifle was grasped in his hand as one of the other two Autobots gestured for Vixen to kneel. She did, forcing back tears, trying to remain stoic. "Vaxin of the Fortress Gaurdians," he said slowly, as if expecting her to deny the fact. She did not. "You admit to the murder of multiple Autobots under a peacetime treaty. You have destroyed untold lives. I am fully within my jursidiction to end your life as you have destroyed others." He pointed the barrel of his gun towards her head, and Optimus heard Stormcloud turn away and shut his optics down. The rifle discharged. Optimus could not watch either, and as he heard the release of the powerful weapon, he let his optics dim to nothingness. He let the silence seep in as sensation drained from his body. Vixen had saved countless Maximals, been the most compassionate and kindhearted of any among their number. Now, she was gone... forever... "Jetfire, what in the name of Primus are you doing?" It was then that Optimus reactivated his optics and surveyed the scene. He hadn't even felt himself ask that question of Jetfire, but he was certain he had. Yet as he saw Jetfire standing there, smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle, he realized that it had come from one of the other Autobots. Vixen still knelt, eyes shut tight, her body shaking slightly, the chain holding her shot clean in two. He had not shot her. "Primus help me, the right thing," he replied, lowering the rifle as both Vixen and Stormcloud opened their eyes. A silence hung in the air for a moment as the Autobots looked on in disbelief, the Maximals in hope, and Vixen in utter confusion. "I will end the cycle here, Vaxin. The death stops here. You will not be killed for your crimes, although it is my right." It seemed for a moment that Jetfire's bar eye flashed blue. "In the days that will come, truly caring Transformers will be nearly a thing of the past. The Great War made that so, and we now stand on the precipice of another war. I will not be a part of this." "Your sentence is this, Vixen: if you ever return to Cybertron, you will be forced into a conflict as great as any here. I charge you to never lose your compassion, no matter how great the war may rage. The spark of kindness is the only one that shines through even the darkest war, and Primus knows I cannot carry it much longer. If you die, it will not be by my hand." Jetfire shoved the rifle back into subspace. "Live, Vixen. This is my judgement." There were no more words now. Only the sound of Vixen and Stormcloud embracing, of Tailwind joining them, of Jetfire turning and boarding the /Prophecy/ once again, of Optimus himself falling on his knees and thanking Primus. And then, only a few words that Optimus could hear, he thought from Rhinox - "It will be done." * * * * * * * * * * Fling and Helix were already recharging, but Jetfire couldn't bring himself to, not yet. He'd told Optimus that a Maximal escort would be along as soon as possible, but he doubted how easy it would be to negotiate with the Elders. Depth Charge had chosen to stay behind, ostensibly as security, in actuality most likely because the Predacons on the planet had broken the treaty and could be destroyed openly. Playing along, Jetfire had left Treerunner, Charger, and Squawkbox behind as a goodwill detachment. Optimus didn't seem to like the idea of leaving the planet, though. That worried Jetfire. He thought for a few moments more, then keyed up a communication frequency. "Magnus? Are you awake?" The blue-white head of the Autobot subcommander came into view. "Jetfire? Glad to hear from you. I'm going to assume from this transmission that everything went as planned with the Decepticons?" He frowned. "And the peripheral matters, of course." Jetfire nodded. "All known Decepticons have been either captured or destroyed to the best of my knowledge. As for the peripheral matters..." He sighed. "Swordstroke is now on the planet, although I don't know where or in what condition. And... yes, I did let it free." Magnus's face seemed to relax, although Jetfire felt even worse than before. "Magnus? Is this deception really necessary?" Magnus sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, Jetfire. All I know is that Prime wanted this to be done. He knew better than any of us. I feel like we're manipulating him, too, but..." Another sigh, this one out of worry for an old comrade. "I never even understood the connection that Prime had to the Matrix. He explained the whole plan to me at one point... I'll admit, it seemed ridiculous, but it may very well be our salvation. As for Swordstroke -" "I know, Magnus. I read the whole analysis," replied Jetfire, dimming his optics. "Doesn't mean I have to like it much, though. For the love of Primus... I never expected that the Golden Disks really would get stolen. But this is all panning out with eerie accuracy. I don't trust it, Magnus. I don't trust it at all." "Neither do I," replied Magnus. "We've just got to have faith in Prime this time, Jetfire. We have to carry on his memory." A thought seemed to occur to him, and worry crossed Magnus's face once again. "They don't..." Jetfire shook his head. "No, they don't. Nobody else knows that Optimus Prime is dead. If all goes according to plan, it won't matter." He let his head drop into his hands. "If this one-in-a-million shot connects, then the Matrix will once more light our darkest hour. And if it doesn't..." "Let's not consider that possibility, Jetfire. I'll see you on your return." Jetfire nodded and shut the commlink off, then turned. He thought for a moment, then opened his chest compartment and removed the shell of the Matrix of Leadership, now empty. "Prime. Did you know this was going to happen? Do you know why I feel that something is on the border of happening down there... something inimical and primeval, that echoes back to the core of our being?" The empty shell said nothing, leaving only Jetfire to deal with the ghosts of doubt around him.