Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination IV, Interlude

    A bonus chapter, meant to take place between chapters 5 and 6. Wrote it up so that events of future chapters don't feel too out of nowhere...

INTERLUDE

 The Battlestar

“I understand if you think what I’m telling you makes me sound just a bit crazy…”

Star Convoy, the Autobot commander once known as Optimus Prime, smiled behind his faceplate as his optics shone brightly at his successor. “Rodimus, after all that we’ve been through in the last three years, I think all of us have had to go just a little crazy in order to adapt to the world around us.”

Rodimus Prime chuckled in response. The two Autobot commanders stood in Optimus’ personal quarters aboard the Battlestar, the vessel which for the last several months had been used by Star Convoy’s team in their mission to aid worlds that had been affected by the Grand Architect’s forces the previous year. Optimus and his crew had just finished rendering aid to Caminus when Rodimus had contacted them and asked to speak with Optimus in person. At first, Optimus was worried that something had happened on Cybertron, but Rodimus quickly assured him that everything there was fine.

What he had to say instead was far more mystifying than it was concerning.

“How long ago did you start having these visions?” Optimus asked.

“Not long after Primal returned with the Matrix from the other universe,” Rodimus replied. “At first I thought my processor was just acting funny during stasis lock, and even Ratchet thought the same when I had him run a diagnostic scan on me. But then it became more frequent, and they all had to do with either one of us or a past Prime or something related to the Matrix. A week or so ago, I decided to test a hypothesis and removed the Matrix from my chest chamber, putting it somewhere safe. The next three nights during my recharge sessions, I didn’t have any sort of weird visions or dreams.”

“Interesting.” Optimus raised a hand to his chin. “I’m trying to recall if I experienced anything like that when I held the Matrix. Are you sure it has nothing to do when… the Grand Architect had it in his possession?” He could not bring himself to speak the name of Primus; even after nearly a year, it felt so strange to know that Primus was both real and nothing at all like the legends had portrayed him.

Rodimus frowned. “I’m not completely certain. The thought did cross my mind, but the fact that it didn’t start until after Primal came here with the Matrix from the alternate universe… I don’t know, I feel that it’s connected.”

“Have you spoken to Primal yet?”

“No. I was actually hoping you could drop me off on Earth so I could, so long as it’s along the way.”

“Certainly. I’ll contact Sky Garry and have him set a course.” Optimus then paused before asking, “Out of curiosity, what have your visions shown regarding you or me?”

Rodimus rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Well, the most recent one I had… the one that prompted me to reach out to you… it showed you on some planet fighting Megatron.”

“Well, that’s not exactly out of the ordinary.”

“Right, except you were in your current body.” Rodimus motioned to Optimus’ Star Convoy armor. “And Megatron was in a new body as well, one I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him in. And I think the rest of your crew was there as well.”

Optimus frowned. “You believe it might be a premonition?”

Rodimus shook his head. “I don’t know what I believe right now, but I feel it’s worth mentioning anyway.” The younger Prime paused as well, looking as if he was considering something. “There was also another one in which… well, it didn’t involve either of us, but it had something to do with a planet. Some place called Metascan?”

Optimus blinked, taken aback. “Metascan Alpha?”

“Yeah.” Rodimus tilted his head. “You’ve been there?”

“No,” Optimus murmured. “But I know someone who has. Megatron, back when he was known as Optronix, defeated the Destructons there, sealing them away with the help of the Logicons.”

Rodimus’ optics went wide. “Wait… Megatron’s been to Metascan Alpha?”

“Surely you’ve read up on the Destructon conflict….”

“No, no, I have. But if two of my visions both have something to do with Megatron, directly or indirectly… don’t you think that could be a sign?”

Optimus arched an optic ridge at him. “You are the Matrix bearer, my friend. The call is yours to make.”

Rodimus grimaced as he seemed to consider his options. After a moment, he asked, “Is Metascan Alpha far from here?”

Optimus thought for a moment. “By my calculations, it’s on the edge of the northern quadrant. Quite a ways away from here or Earth.”

“Even so… I think it’s a detour worth making. We know Megatron and his forces are still at large, as are the Destructons. I know your crew isn’t a strong enough force to combat either of them if we cross paths with them… but if we can at least scout out the region, we might be able to prepare for whatever is to come… if these visions are indeed premonitions of the future.”

Optimus nodded. “I believe that is a sound plan. I shall contact the bridge and have them set a course. Whatever is to come, we will be ready.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination IV, Chapter Seven

SEVEN: FORGE THE FUTURE

  “I don’t care where you send us to, Foldspace! Just get us the frag out of here!”

If Foldspace responded, Spacewarp did not hear him over the cacophony of noise surrounding her. Trypticon had not landed gracefully when he impacted Combatron’s surface, which set off an earthquake that would have knocked her off her feet had she not already taken off in her space shuttle mode. With her Mini-Con companions—including the three survivors they had found—safely aboard her, she had taken off towards the sky just as Trypticon began unleashing all of his weaponry. She did not think he had noticed her, but that didn’t mean she was safe anywhere near him as he fired plasma bombs from his mouth and photon beams from a pair of shoulder launchers… and that was all in addition to various guns and rockets he had scattered throughout his chassis.

If Combatron was already in a desolate state, then there was no way it was going to survive the Titan’s rampage.

Dust and ash from the ensuing apocalypse rained down all around her as she struggled to navigate her way through the planet’s sky and out of the atmosphere. With the Transwarp Blaster Mini-Cons linked up to her systems, she would be able to teleport herself to anywhere in the galaxy based on Foldspace’s coordinates. She could only pray that the old Mini-Con in his senility wouldn’t direct her straight into a black hole or any of the sort.

As she pushed through the rising columns of ash and smoke to break through the stratosphere, she could have sworn she saw a flash of purple light somewhere in the distance. Before she could even think about deducing what it was, she heard Foldspace’s voice finally come through.

“Destination set! Go and make your jump!”

With no time to double check Foldspace’s coordinates, Spacewarp called on the power granted to her from the powerlinked Interstellar Marauders. All around her, the hellish landscape of Combatron vanished as time and space warped around her before flinging her and her companions into the unknown.

*  *  *

Starscream paced back and forth nervously, his optics flicking furtively to the visuals of Combatron’s destruction. Under any other circumstances, he would have been pleased by this demonstration of the Titan’s power and could only imagine how useful it would be in destroying Earth. But as a prisoner of Trypticon, the Seeker could find no joy in witnessing such a sight; if anything, he could only feel a growing sense of dread as he thought about what Trypticon might do to him should he grow bored of his presence.

Krok at least seemed content with their predicament, all because of some mushy call he had with that Mini-Con medic. Starscream couldn’t even look at him now without feeling a deep sense of revulsion and a temptation to just shoot him with his null ray. It wasn’t like anyone was going to miss him….

Starscream turned his gaze to Krok, sitting despondently against the wall. He considered the benefits and drawbacks of killing the lowly ranked foot soldier. While he had proved himself capable of being able to communicate with Titans, what good was that going to do really? They had already learned where Trypticon had been and gotten him back online, for all the good that had done, and he clearly was not going to listen to either one of them to stop. Really, if one thought about it, Krok had served his purpose. At his point, he was nothing more than deadweight.

And Starscream had no use for deadweight.

Krok still was not looking at him. If he was quick, then he wouldn’t even see his death coming…

Just as Starscream was about to lift his arms, there was a flash of purple light and four mechanoids—two of them much larger than him—materialized between him and his target. Startled, Starscream backed up against the other wall and just as he registered the identities of those in front of him, Lugnut lunged forward and pinned him in place with one arm.

“Traitor!” the large purple Decepticon bellowed, reeling back his other arm. “You shall pay for your treasonous actions!”

“Gah! Let go of me, you fool!” Struggling against Lugnut’s grip, Starscream’s eyes turned to Megatron and he offered a weak smile. “My liege! Thank goodness you’re here! Here I was trying to get Trypticon to aid you in the battle on Ejoornus when he started acting up and—”

“Spare me,” Megatron growled. “The only reason I won’t kill you yet is because I will need to know just how deep the little conspiracy you’ve engineered goes.”

Starscream blinked, his surprise at least partly genuine. “Conspiracy…?”

“I take it Astrotrain wasn’t acting on your active orders then?”

Realization dawned on the Seeker and he cursed to himself. “Ah… I see. Can’t say I was expecting him to take the initiative so soon…”

“Please, master,” Lugnut said. “Let me render him into scrap so we can be rid of his nuisance!”

“I have a better idea.” The floor beneath their feet vibrated as Trypticon spoke. “How about I crush you all here and now and rid myself of six nuisances?”

Megatron shifted his baleful gaze to the Titan’s brain module. “You do realize, Trypticon, that I do not require you to be functioning to suit my needs? The Autobots clearly have no issues in traveling with Metroplex despite his spark having been extinguished for years.”

“Yes, but are they capable of using his robot mode and full potential? I think not. Nor do I believe you wish to rid yourself of such potential.”

Megatron smiled, an expression that sent a chill running through Starscream’s systems. “You think you know me so well, Titan.”

“I may no longer hear his voice or feel his presence, but Trannis’s memories and thoughts remain in my databanks. He made you into what you are now. He knew what made you tick… and thus, so do I.”

“Correction,” Megatron said. “You knew what made Optronix tick.”

“You are a fool if you think there is any difference,” Trypticon growled.

“Then you are a fool if you think it still holds true now.”

Without warning, he swiveled his fusion cannon to Trypticon’s brain module and opened fire. The entire chamber lit up from the resulting explosion as all within it were pushed back. Lugnut released his grip on Starscream and the Seeker fell to the floor. He barely managed to get far away enough from the blast that it did little more than singe the tips of his wings.

When everything settled once more, the chamber had been plunged into partial darkness, with only a few of Trypticon’s systems still online. The Titan had stopped moving and thus ceased his rampage, although without any visuals it was impossible to tell if there was anything left of Combatron.

All was still as those in the room stared in astonishment at Megatron, who remained where he stood before the shattered remains of Trypticon’s brain module. Then, the Decepticon leader slowly turned and his gaze fell down on Nickel, the Mini-Con medic whom Starscream only just now realized was there.

“How long would it take you to get him operational again?”

Nickel gaped at him for a moment before finding her voice. “Um… it would depend on how operational you need him…?”

“Just enough to utilize his transportation systems and warp us to our next destination.”

“Ah.” The Mini-Con considered for a moment. “Well, if his spark is still functional then… it shouldn’t take any more than a mega-cycle. I would just need to reroute everything that had went to his neural systems and—”

“Then get it done,” Megatron said coldly. “I will not accept a timetable that differs from what you have just given me.”

Nickel nodded slowly. “Understood, Lord Megatron.”

Skywarp picked himself up from the floor, dusting himself off. “Do you even know what our next destination is?”

“Indeed I do,” Megatron replied. “It will be where it all began for me. And, it shall be where it ends.”

Starscream sneered. “I don’t suppose you can offer something less cryptic than that?”

“Silence, traitor!” Lugnut roared as he smashed Starscream back to the floor. He then turned back to Megatron. “My liege, are you suggesting that you plan on… ending yourself? The Decepticon Empire will fall to shambles without you!”

“No, Lugnut,” the Decepticon leader answered. “I plan on remaking myself. If the Decepticon Empire is to succeed, then it needs a change in direction. A direction only I can provide. Not Trannis. Not Optronix.” His optics flared. “Not even Megatron.”

Starscream watched as the others exchanged confused looks. Skywarp rubbed his helm awkwardly. “But… you are Megatron. I mean, what else are we going to even call you?”

Megatron turned to him, and again Starscream felt a chill as he smiled. “Let’s find out together, shall we?”

*  *  *

Spacewarp did not recognize where she was, which was not a good sign.

As far as she could tell, she and her companions were all in one piece, which was a good sign. But it was still outweighed by the aforementioned bad sign.

Floating before them was not a planet but rather some kind of station. It was roughly the size of a moon, but it had no planet to orbit. At the epicenter of the station was a massive circle which looked as if it had once glowed with energy but had since been depleted. Ringing the orphaned satellite were six massive blades, three on either side, which gave it a vague wing shape.

The longer she stared at it, the more Spacewarp began to think it looked somewhat familiar. Not that she had seen it in person but rather in some sort of document or historical film.

Before she could ask Foldspace where in Primus’s name he had brought them, she heard Boom Tube speak within her. “Picking up spark signatures.”

Sure enough, her scanners began to detect multiple shapes emerging from the winged moon. As they closed in on her, she recognized them as Seeker-types, with many of them looking identical to each other. They instantly surrounded her before transforming to robot mode and raising their null rays at her.

“State your name and business,” one of the Seekers intoned in a dull voice.

“Whoa, easy there, boys.” Spacewarp transformed as well, bringing her Mini-Cons out with her. “We’re just trying to find somewhere safe to rest. Didn’t mean to intrude on your guys’ property.”

“State your name and business,” the Seeker repeated.

“Name’s Spacewarp and I already told you my business. Look, just let us warp somewhere else and we’ll be out of your circuit-board.”

The Seekers said nothing for a time, keeping their weapons trained on her. Then, the lavender one that had spoken to her turned his head away from her slightly, tilting it as if he was receiving something on his comm. Then, he turned his attention back to Spacewarp.

“You are a Decepticon?”

Spacewarp made a show of glancing down at the insignia on her chestplate. “Um, yeah. Is it too subtle?”

The Seeker lowered his weapons and the others followed suit. “You are an ally then, at least for now. You will accompany us to see Termagax.”

“Termagax?” Spacewarp asked, but the Seekers had already converted back to their flight modes. Seeing that they would not be fielding any further questions, she returned to her alternate mode as well and followed them to the winged moon. 

They flew over the metal surface of the moon as they made their way to a spire that rose from the northern pole. A hatch in the spire slid open upon their approach and the Seekers funneled Spacewarp into the opening, giving her no room to break off and fly away. Left with no other option, she flew into the opening and followed a short, narrow hallway that eventually opened up into a wider chamber. As soon as there was a floor to stand on, she transformed to her robot mode and landed, with her Mini-Con companions landing at her feet while the Seekers touched ground behind her.

The massive chamber was filled wall to wall with monitors and technology, many of them looking worn and ancient as if they had not been used in quite some time. There were some work stations, which were occupied by more Seekers or otherwise generic-looking bots. Meanwhile, at the center of the room was a small platform that hovered a few feet above the floor; standing on the platform, facing a set of monitors that showed various parts of the moon, was a short and stocky bot with gray armor plating and a golden faceplate.

As Spacewarp and her party approached, the mysterious bot lazily turned her yellow optics to her. For a moment, it seemed as if she were sizing Spacewarp up, which made the explorer feel somewhat uneasy.

Eventually, the bot’s gaze landed on Spacewarp’s Decepticon insignia and a strange expression crossed her face. “So, you are one of Trannis’ bots, are you?”

“Trannis?” Spacewarp cocked her head in confusion. “I ain’t that old, lady. I served under Megatron.”

“Megatron.” The gray bot spoke the name as if it was familiar but not one she had heard in a long time. “How interesting. Yes, that would make sense….”

As Spacewarp continued to stare at their strange host, Foldspace tapped her quietly on the leg. “Spacewarp,” the old Mini-Con said in a hushed whisper. “Do you have any idea who that is?”

Spacewarp looked down at him. “I take it this is the Termagax they mentioned earlier?”

Foldspace gave her an incredulous look. “You really don’t know who she is, do you?”

“I mean, the name sounds kinda familiar but I couldn’t tell you anything about her with a molecular obliterator to my head.”

“I can hardly blame you,” Termagax spoke up, still facing her monitors. “If you are as young as you appear to be, then it is unlikely that my name would have cropped up in any history records. Perhaps your little friend there can enlighten you.”

Foldspace shrugged. “I mean, my memory ain’t what it used to be… but I was around during those days. During the Nominus era.”

“Nominus era?” Spacewarp exclaimed, looking from Foldspace to Termagax. “As in Nominus Prime?”

“Yep. Hell, she might even be older than that; might’ve even been there for Nova Prime. Point is, she was there for the Age of Expansion, or at least its end, and she was a major proponent for its continuation when Nominus Prime issued his edict, putting a stop to the whole thing.”

“I know about the Nominus Edict. But how come I’ve never heard about Termagax?”

“The fact that I was one of his most ardent critics might have something to do with it,” said Termagax herself. “Nominus Prime wanted to push our society into stagnation after all the progress Nova Prime had made.”

Spacewarp crossed her arms. “Yeah, progress like pushing Mini-Cons and beasts into categories and making them outsiders….”

“I admit it was not perfect, but Nominus only made it worse by either doing nothing or taking us backward. He was more focused on propping himself up as ruler of Cybertron than the needs of our race. The only ideas of mine that he accepted were those he believed he could co-opt to sustain his rule… such as the Winged Moon.” She gestured outward with her arms, motioning to the room around and by extension the moon they stood within.

“Winged Moon, eh?” Spacewarp said. “Very creative.”

“The name was never the point, but rather the function. It was capable of distilling energon from the very fabric of time and space and feeding it back to Cybertron, sustaining the planet for generations to come. It was something that Nova Prime and his scientists could ever dream of coming up with themselves.”

“What happened to it, then? ‘Cos I’m pretty sure if we had something like this there never would’ve been a Great War to begin with.”

“As with anything, it was ruined by pride and greed,” Termagax said bitterly. “Nominus wanted to use the Winged Moon to bleed planets dry, something it was never meant for. By that point, I had managed to gain a seat on his High Council, despite his efforts to keep me away, and I used all of my political power to command the Primal Vanguard to sever the tether between the moon and Cybertron. I then used a remote failsafe to cast it into the deepest reaches of space, where Nominus could never find it.

“Needless to say, Nominus didn’t take kindly to this and I was exiled from society—the only reason he didn’t execute me was because of the uproar it would have stirred. For the next several thousand years, I lived in isolation on Cybertron, watching from afar as Nominus and his successors rose and fell. When my hopes for a better future were completely extinguished, I left Cybertron and found the Winged Moon, where I have stayed ever since.”

“I see,” Spacewarp said. “Well, since you’ve been out of the game for a while, I take it you don’t know that Cybertron has been restored?”

Termagax glanced at her, a skeptical expression on her face. “Restored in what way?”

“Well, I mean… Prime—the old Prime, Optimus—used the AllSpark to restore power to Vector Sigma and get energon flowing again. Granted, it’s been a slow process and things still aren’t Golden Age material, but it’s only been three years, so—”

Termagax scoffed. “Even the so-called Golden Age was merely a facade. A picture painted by the ones who….” She then paused, as if just now processing something, and she turned away fully from her monitors. “Wait… did you say Optimus? As in Optimus Prime?”

“Uh, yeah.” Spacewarp rubbed the back of her head. “’Course, I don’t think he’s Prime anymore. Some fella called Rodimus is calling the shots on Cybertron now, although ol’ O.P. is still around to help out.”

Termagax’s optics narrowed. “Where is Optimus Prime now? Do you know?”

“Nope, sorry. Why the frag should I know? I ain’t his sparkmate.”

Termagax glared at her for a moment before turning away, returning her attention to the monitors. She waved her hand and the visuals changed. “No matter. I’m sure the current Prime will be able to tell me where he is.”

“Uh, yeah, good luck with that. By my calculations, we’re a long way from Cybertron.”

Termagax looked over her shoulder at her, a mirthless smile on her face. “Weren’t you paying attention, young one? I was able to send the Winged Moon away from Cybertron.”

All around them, several lights lit up throughout the chamber as machinery not used in millennia hummed to life. 

“I can also bring it back.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination IV, Chapter Six

SIX: KILL THE PAST

 Combatron

“You really expect me to believe there are survivors here, Foldspace?”

“The scanners never lie, Spacewarp!” the old Mini-Con shot back as his tiny rover form rolled across the desolate surface of Combatron.

Spacewarp could only sigh and roll her eyes as she stood above her Mini-Con partner, watching as he picked through rubble. As much as she wanted to point out the plenty of times in which his scanners did in fact lie (or, more likely than not, he misread them), she was not in the state of mind to argue with him.

Besides, she knew he needed this. They both did. For the past several months, they had been spinning their wheels, searching for surviving Mini-Cons only to come up empty. A part of Spacewarp wasn’t surprised much by that; by this point, any Mini-Cons that had survived the massacre on Micron had either been rescued already or were lost deep in Galactic Council or Black Block Consortia territory, serving their new masters for as long as they still functioned. Until Spacewarp was daring enough to go deep into their territory, that was where they would likely remain for the foreseeable future.

If anything, Spacewarp’s primary focus as of late was to get as far away from Megatron and his forces as possible. From what she had heard, the Decepticon armada he had amassed was constantly on the move, reclaiming old territory and reintegrating wayward Decepticon forces. Spacewarp just knew that she was on his list—if he remembered her existence at all—and that he would not take no for an answer should she be approached by him.

That could have been another factor in why they had had so little luck so far. She had deliberately pressured Foldspace to focus on worlds that were remote and far out of reach of any major galactic power. Ostensibly it had been to stay out of the Galactic Council’s sights… but really it was to stay out of Megatron’s. And while Combatron had once been a contested planet in the Great War, the outcome of the battle that had taken place here all those centuries ago meant that there was nothing worth of value for anyone. Surely Megatron would have no interest in such a desolate world like Combatron.

Right?

Unconsciously, Spacewarp’s optics flicked up to the dusty, starry sky above, scanning it for any sign of spacecraft—specifically those of the purple variety. Ever since they had arrived on Combatron, she had started to feel… paranoid. Like she was being watched. Any minute now, she was expecting something to emerge from the void and—

“Found something!”

Spacewarp nearly jumped at the sound of Foldspace’s cry. She looked down to see the Mini-Con transform and move aside two stones that revealed a small hole in the ground. Huddled inside it were a trio of Mini-Cons, who all instantly raised their arms upon being discovered.

“Please, don’t hurt us!” said a dark turquoise Mini-Con with gray pincers adorning his shoulders.

“Relax,” Spacewarp said, crouching down next to the hole. “We’re here to rescue you. How long have you guys been hunkered down here?”

A tan Mini-Con with wings lowered his arms to fold them over his chest. “You tell us, femme. How long has it been since the Atlas War?”

“Somewhere between five centuries and a millennium.” Spacewarp frowned behind her faceplate. “How have you guys been surviving in all that time?”

“Stasis naps and rationing reserves,” said the turquoise Mini-Con. “Plus we are a lot more energy efficient than you bulks.”

“I can see that. Name’s Spacewarp, by the way, and this is Foldspace.” She shifted and the trio that made up the Transwarp Blaster emerged from one of her compartments. “And these are the Interstellar Marauders. Boom-Tube, Jump Drive, and Starburst.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. You can call me Grip-Lock. This is Thunderstick, and over there is Skysickle.” The turquoise Mini-Con gestured first to the tan one and then to their third companion, a maroon one with rotors for hands. Thunderstick merely grunted as means of greeting while Skysickle responded in a manic and incoherent string of binary. Grip-Lock then gave an apologetic look. “Sorry about him. He’s been… through some scrap. We all have.”

“Yeah,” Thunderstick muttered. “So are we just gonna sit around or are we finally gonna get off this rock?”

“Hey, don’t let me keep you waiting,” Spacewarp said. “There’s plenty of room aboard my alt mode, so you can all come aboard and—”

“Hold it,” Foldspace interjected. “I’m picking up something.”

“Another Mini-Con signature?”

“No. It’s coming from somewhere else.” Without looking up from his scanner, Foldspace pointed up to the sky. “It’s coming from above.”

Spacewarp could already feel her spark sink as she lifted her gaze up to the stars. One of the objects in the sky, she quickly deduced, was not a star but in fact an object that was fast approaching from space.

A very large object. Titan-sized, one might say.

“You have got to be fraggin’ kidding me.”

*  *  *

“Combatron?! Why are we here of all places?” Starscream practically squawked.

Krok stood behind him as they both stared at the visuals Trypticon had provided them from within his cranial unit. The desolate world of Combatron, ravaged by the Great War, was fast approaching as the Titan made his descent.

“Do you not know your history?” Trypticon rumbled, a sardonic tone to his voice. “During the Age of the Primes, this world was the stronghold of my former master, the one you remember as the Fallen.”

Starscream scowled. “Yeah, well, the Fallen is dead. And so is this waste of a planet.”

“Precisely. Which is why it must be destroyed. Consider it a symbolic gesture as well as a demonstration of my power.”

Starscream threw his hands up as he turned away from the screen. “Great. So we get to watch him blow up rocks in space. I’m glad we could be here for this.”

“At least he’s not trying to blow up Cybertron,” Krok muttered.

“Quiet!” Starscream grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against a wall. “Don’t give him any ideas!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Trypticon said. “It was already on my list.”

Starscream continued to glower at Krok even as he let go of him. The former scavenger could only look away, feeling despondent from this whole situation. That was when he noticed a small green light blinking on his wrist, indicating an incoming call on his communicator.

He frowned. He knew of only one other Decepticon (presently living) who could have his personal comm frequency… and would have enough care to do so.

Tentatively, he raised his arm to his faceplate and answered the call, speaking quietly for all the good it would do.

“Hello…?”

“Krok?” the familiar voice of Nickel came through. “Oh, thank Primus. I was worried you had died in the battle. You weren’t among the wounded that came in so I wasn’t sure—”

“Nickel,” Krok interjected. “I need you to be quiet and listen to me. Starscream and I are inside Trypticon and—”

“Trypticon? Starscream? Wait, what are you talking about?”

“There’s no time to explain! Look, we’re at Combatron. Trypticon is about to destroy the planet. Go tell Megatron so he can bring the fleet.”

“Um, okay. I’m on my way.”

Krok exhaled from his cooling systems. “Thank you, Nickel. I… thank you.”

He ended the call before slumping down on the floor, leaning his head against the wall. Starscream stood across from him, arms crossed with a disgusted look on his face.

“What a fantastic use of a lifeline,” the Seeker muttered.

“Have you forgotten,” Trypticon thundered around them, “that I can see and hear all that you do?”

“I haven’t,” Krok admitted. “To be honest, it matters not what happens to me now. Only that someone has remembered me.”

“How pathetically naive.” Trypticon went silent again as he pressed on towards Combatron.

Starscream glared back at Krok. “For the record,” he muttered, “I agree with the Titan.”

Krok simply closed his eyes, blocking out their remarks as he waited for whatever came next.

The Nemesis

“This had better not be a trick…”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Lord Megatron!” Nickel exclaimed as she rolled beside Megatron on the bridge of the Nemesis. “I swear on my life—!”

“Good, because your life will be forfeit should this prove to be a trap.”

With the blast shield still in place of the viewport he had shattered, the Nemesis was practically flying blind as it traversed through hyperspace towards the Tsiehshi system, home to the abandoned colony world of Combatron. At the ship’s controls, Skywarp could only rely on the navigation system as he directed the Nemesis towards their destination.

In the meantime, Megatron had already assembled a strike force to bring Trypticon to heel. While he knew it would perhaps be easier to simply blow the Titan to oblivion, Trypticon was too useful an asset to throw away so recklessly. If there was a chance to bring him back under his control, then Megatron was not going to give that up.

He glanced over to the side, where said strike force gathered in wait. Lugnut appeared eager as always to fulfill his master’s command, while most of the others, such as Blitzwing and the Seekers assigned as his flight-mates, looked apathetic or were otherwise difficult to read. And Astrotrain…

Astrotrain simply stared at Megatron, a subtle fury in his optics.

Megatron frowned at this, unsure what to make of it. As he recalled, Astrotrain had been among the Decepticons who had returned to Earth to search for him. He, as with Lugnut and the rest of that team (besides Starscream) he had always pegged to be among his most loyal followers.

Why, then, was Astrotrain regarding him with such anger? Had he been wrong in his assessment?

“It would not be the first time.”

Megatron scowled as he started to shift his gaze to the left, where the intruding voice had come from. But the apparition that stood beside him was not Shockwave but rather a tall mech in white and black armor plating, with blue on his thighs and biceps and a golden sheen to his mouthplate and helm crest.

Blinking in confusion, Megatron opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it, conscious of his audience. Instead, he used his thoughts to communicate the figure that was already in his head. Who are you?

“Has so much time passed that you no longer remember me?” The mysterious mech scoffed as he shook his head. “For shame, Optronix.”

Megatron’s expression darkened. I no longer go by that name. Now, I will not ask again: Who are you?

“You will remember me as Atlas Convoy. But in my final years, I went by another moniker.”

Ah. Megatron remembered now. Yes. You proclaimed yourself King Atlas, ruler of Combatron. Namesake of the Atlas War.

“I suppose I shouldn’t blame you for forgetting.” Atlas walked past him, unseen by the other Decepticons. He stopped at the front of the bridge and made a motion with his hand, bringing up an image of Combatron. “Your Decepticons were not involved in that particular conflict. A wise decision in hindsight, given the destruction it brought about.”

King Atlas then paused before looking over his shoulder at Megatron.

“Of course, you and I are both familiar with destruction, aren’t we?”

Beside him, other apparitions began to materialize beside King Atlas. Megatron instantly recognized them as other members of the Convoy Corps, the special operations group he had formed so long ago to combat the threat of the Destructons.

“You claim to be so much more powerful now than you were all those years ago, and yet still the Destructons elude you. Your current followers have failed where we have succeeded. We didn’t need combiners or Titans to defeat the Destructons. So what is your excuse, Megatron?”

Megatron clenched his fists. I don’t need excuses.

“Are you truly as strong as you say?”

Shut up…

“Did you make the right choice in becoming who you are?”

Shut up!

“Was Galvatron right in choosing—”

“SHUT UP!”

The apparitions vanished, leaving no trace of their presence. In their place were the shocked and stunned stares of all on the bridge.

Megatron froze in place, realizing at once that not only had he screamed his final thought aloud… but that he had raised his fusion cannon and prepared to charge it, aiming it at where King Atlas’ image had been. Just as he was about to lower his arm and think of an explanation for himself, he heard the click of a gun and looked over to see Astrotrain raise his weapon at him.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any to start this,” the Triple Changer muttered.

Megatron’s eyes flashed at him and he moved to aim his fusion cannon at Astrotrain. As he did that however, he heard another click as Dirge raised his null rays, pointing them at his head.

Then, another Decepticon raised his gun.

Then another.

Then another.

All pointing at him.

Skywarp remained where he stood, looking on in disbelief. Lugnut whirled on his compatriots, shaking with fury.

“How dare you turn your weapons on the all mighty Megatron! You shall pay for this treason!”

“There’s more where that came from, by the way,” Astrotrain said, seeming to ignore Lugnut. He drew another weapon and pointed it at Skywarp. “Have we dropped out of hyperspace yet?”

“Hold on just a nanosecond,” the black and purple Seeker exclaimed. “Just what the frag do you think you’re—”

“Answer me, you idiot!” Astrotrain snapped.

Skywarp scowled but glanced at the navigation system anyway. “Yeah, we’ve just entered the system. I was about to report that anyway until—”

“Until what? Until our ‘all mighty leader’ decided to have another episode?” Astrotrain sneered, keeping his sights on Megatron. “If this is the one you want to put your faith in, then be my guest… but you and Lugnut are going to be part of a very small club.”

“Wait, just hold it, Astro’.” Blitzwing stepped in between his fellow Triple Changer and Megatron. “Just talk to us. What exactly are you trying to pull here?”

“I guess Starscream didn’t approach you, then? He didn’t show you what he’s shown me? What he’s shown all of us?”

“What are you talking about? What does Starscream have to do with any of this?”

“He showed me the truth!” Astrotrain snapped. “He showed me exactly what he has become! An unstable leader who doesn’t know what he’s doing and spends more time talking to himself than he does trying to crush our enemies! He had an opportunity to destroy Earth and the Autobots but decided to postpone it. He has been leading us on a fool’s errand to wipe out the Destructons but we got our afts handed to us! Instead of using his power to wipe them out, he saved them for bots like Clench—for fellow Decepticons!”

A harsh silence fell over the bridge as those who had yet to raise their weapons processed the words they were hearing. Only Lugnut and Skywarp seemed to remain defiant in the face of this growing mutiny.

“A thousand years,” Astrotrain went on. “A thousand years he has been our leader and what has he accomplished? Nothing. He ruled Cybertron for all of a few seconds before losing it to Unicron’s heralds. He was dead for a year, leaving us in shambles, and then played chummy with the Autobots when he came back. It was only after he died and came back again did he finally decide to take back command to lead us back to glory. And after half a year, where is that glory? Where is our triumph?”

Skywarp scoffed. “And who are you going to look to instead? Starscream? He’s had his chance already.”

“Indeed he has, which is why I’m not doing this for him. I couldn’t care less if we rescued him from Trypticon or not. He can burn in the Pit for all I care.” Astrotrain’s optics blazed as he focused his gaze on Megatron. “I am doing this for us. For the Decepticon Empire.”

Megatron glanced around and saw that the rest of the bridge crew had raised their weapons in his direction. Even Blitzwing and Thundercracker, as reluctant as their expressions were, had turned against him. All that left on his side were Skywarp and Lugnut, as well as Nickel who cowered behind his legs.

“So,” Megatron murmured. “This is how it ends.”

“I’m afraid so,” Astrotrain replied. “Look, if you do the smart thing for once and surrender yourself, then we’ll just lock you in the brig and decide where to go from there.”

“Nobody locks Megatron in a cage!” Lugnut roared, raising his fists.

“Indeed.” Megatron cocked his fusion cannon and prepared to charge it. “I suppose there is only one outcome to this.”

“Wait.” Nickel poked her head out from behind Megatron, the radiation dial on her helm pinging wildly back and forth. “My Lord, if you fire your weapon here, it could obliterate the entire bridge!”

Megatron looked down at her, studying the Mini-Con for a minute before offering her smile. A sad smile, but a genuine one.

“An observant one, aren’t you?”

He then returned his attention to Astrotrain, who remained defiant where he stood, the barrel of his own weapon beginning to glow.

For what seemed like an eternity, no one made a move. Then, just as Megatron was seconds away from firing, Skywarp lunged from his station, tackled his leader to the deck, and the world around him disappeared in a flash of light.

When reality materialized around him once more, he lost control of his weapon and a powerful blast of energy lanced from the barrel of his fusion cannon. However, there was no longer a target in front of him and it dissipated in the void of space.

Megatron whirled himself around and saw Skywarp floating before him. Above him was Nickel, who was angled upside down after he had inadvertently flung her off his leg to which she had been clinging for safety.

In the distance behind Skywarp was the Nemesis and the rest of the Decepticon fleet. From the bridge came the flash of an explosion, which seemed to rock the entire vessel. Blasting out of the opening that had been made in the ship was a large purple bomber plane which came blasting towards Megatron’s position. Upon closing the distance, Lugnut transformed to robot mode and prostrated himself before his leader… or the best he could do in the vacuum of space.

“My glorious leader, I humbly submit myself to your command! Give the word and I shall eradicate those treasonous—”

“No, Lugnut,” Megatron sighed. “That won’t be necessary.”

Lugnut blinked in surprise. “But… my Liege…”

“Astrotrain is right. I cannot call myself leader if all I do is lead us to failure. If I am to rule the Decepticons, then I must make things right.”

Skywarp frowned. “Okay… and how are you going to do that?”

“I must eradicate all the ghosts of my past... starting with the Destructons.”

“Right, but we need to find them first….”

“I have an idea on where to start. But first, we need a method of transportation.”

“I can warp us back to the Nemesis, but…” Skywarp looked over his shoulder to where the Nemesis was floating aimlessly, smoke exhuming from the command bridge. “It looks like Lugnut’s temporarily taken it out of commission.”

Megatron smirked. “Oh no, I’m not talking about the Nemesis.” His gaze moved towards the planet of Combatron. In the distance, he could spot the unmistakable form of Trypticon as the Titan made its descent through the planet's atmosphere. 

“I was thinking something a little more… bigger.”

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination IV, Chapter Five

FIVE: SLEEPING GIANTS

 Trypticon

“Why have you brought me here? There’s a whole battle going on down below—”

“Yes, well, I believe you will find this to be a better use of your time,” Starscream said as he led Krok through Trypticon’s inner corridors. With a good majority of the Decepticon forces being either at the battle or stationed on other ships in the armada, everything within the Titan was still and quiet. It was even more still and quiet since Trypticon’s brain module had been fully shut down nearly a year ago. While everything else functioned as intended, there was no consciousness controlling it all.

At least, no apparent consciousness…

After navigating through the corridors, they eventually reached the auxiliary command chamber. There, the deactivated form of Full-Tilt still sat in his command chair, rust tinging the edges of the hole that Megatron had blasted through his chest. Several months ago, Soundwave had lured Megatron into this chamber as part of Trypticon’s attempt to retake command of the Decepticons, still influenced by the mind of Trannis. However, Soundwave had a sudden change of heart and had his minions sabotage Trypticon’s systems, allowing Megatron to disable the Titan.

Since then, it seemed as if there was no more life within the Titan as it floated among the Decepticons’ fleet of ships. However, Starscream had a hunch that there was still more to Trypticon’s current nature than anyone had a clue about… and he certainly saw no harm in investigating whether there was any merit to said hunch.

As they stepped into auxiliary chamber, Krok looked around the darkened room uncomfortably, kicking at scattered remains of Brunt drones. “Why are we here? There’s nothing but corpses.”

“At first glance, yes.” Starscream paused a few feet away from Full-Tilt’s body before turning to face Krok. “But you have to think analytically. Then you might notice things you wouldn’t have normally.”

Krok rolled his optics. “Which is something I’m sure you excel at.”

“I was commander of the Seekers’ research station during the Golden Age, Krok. I might know a thing or two about it.” Starscream turned back to Full-Tilt, bringing a hand to his chin. “Trypticon was originally powered by Trannis’s spark when we first brought him online a thousand years ago. A spark which Full-Tilt here carried in order to link it up to the Titan.”

“I know this already—”

“Quiet,” Starscream snapped. “I am thinking aloud. Focus on the details. That spark—the spark of Trannis—was extinguished when Trypticon channeled its energies to eradicate Unicron’s undead army of Terrorcons three years ago.”

Krok sighed, his shoulders sagging in exasperation. “Yes…”

“But Trypticon continued to function, even if we did not fully realize it. Onyx Prime was able to control him somehow, as was Thunderwing. He was inoperable when the Autobots were using him as their prison, until suddenly he managed to reawaken several months ago… which was when you and your Scavengers encountered him.”

Krok folded his arms. “Yes, well, we had a bit of a history with Trypticon. He briefly served as our ship before the battle with Unicron—”

“A-ha!” Starscream snapped his fingers as he turned back to Krok with a grin. “And that is one of the threads I wish to follow! Trypticon was missing for over nine centuries between his defeat by Metroplex’s hand and his resurgence three years ago. What exactly happened in those intervening years?”

Krok tilted his head in thought. “I do recall… when we discovered him on Clemency, he had adopted the form of a Worldsweeper. Aboard it, we found Full-Tilt here who, when we awakened him, talked about a crew that had died. I believe he mentioned someone called Deadheat…?”

“Deadheat?” Starscream frowned. “He was assigned to the Leviathan, under Switchblade’s command. But Switchblade was executed by the DJD around the same time you discovered Trypticon….”

“Why was Switchblade on the DJD’s list?”

“For abandoning the cause. I don’t know the details surrounding that, of course. I typically left that up to Soundwave…”

“And the Leviathan? Was it and its crew ever recovered?”

“Not to my knowledge.” Starscream narrowed his optics. “Clearly, the only way we can get answers is from Trypticon himself.”

Krok shook his head. “But with him not functioning, how can we—”

“Think, Krok, think! Back to our original thread. When you and your Scavengers reunited with him, he was clearly still functioning, as was Full-Tilt here. Full-Tilt might have still retained his original spark… perhaps the same was true of Trypticon.”

“So Trypticon had three sparks within him at one point?”

Starscream chuckled. “It might explain the identity crisis he seemed to be facing before we shut him down. Of course, Megatron obliterated Full-Tilt’s spark… which would only leave Trypticon’s original Titanspark.”

“Titanspark?” Krok repeated. “I didn’t realize there was a unique term for them.”

“It’s not commonly used outside of some science circles… or spiritual ones.” Starscream scoffed. “Some sects proclaim that Titansparks transcend space and time itself, allowing them to commune with the gods. Of course, we both know by now how much bunk that is.”

“True,” Krok murmured. “Although it could explain their space bridge capabilities.”

“Perhaps.” Starscream waved a dismissive hand. “Point is, I believe we have one last opportunity to bring Trypticon back online, assuming his Titanspark is still functional. Then, perhaps, we can get some answers.”

“And then?” Krok raised an optic ridge. “What is your goal with this, Starscream? There has to be a reason you’re doing this while there’s an entire battle going on outside.”

“Of course there is.” Starscream grinned. “But that particular thread will have to wait. First, we need to wake up a Titan.”

*  *  *

Krok followed Starscream from the auxiliary command chamber, leaving Full-Tilt’s corpse behind, and through the Titan’s corridors again. They made their way up several levels until they reached the component that, in robot mode, would form Trypticon’s head. This would theoretically give them access to Trypticon’s brain module, although from what Starscream had told him it had already been damaged by Soundwave’s minions before his desertion.

As they entered Trypticon’s cranial chamber and approached the Titan’s brain module, a thought suddenly crossed Krok’s mind. “Wait. I know of a method that some use to communicate with Titans. The Camiens call them Cityspeakers, I believe.”

Starscream looked over his shoulder at him, a dangerous gleam in his optics. “Yes, very good.”

Krok frowned. “But we don’t have any Cityspeakers here. In fact, I don’t think there are any Decepticon Cityspeakers.”

“True. But it’s never too late to learn, is it?”

Krok stared at Starscream in confusion before furiously shaking his head. “No. No, no, no. You can’t be serious, can you? I’m not—I can’t be a Cityspeaker!”

Starscream scoffed again. “Who says you can’t? If those Camien weaklings can become one, then I don’t see why you can’t. Besides, you’re the only Decepticon I know of that has had a somewhat cordial relationship with Trypticon. Sure, you didn’t part on the best of terms… but, as you said, he did serve as your ship, yes?”

“Yes, but…” Krok looked from Starscream to the brain module and back again. “I’ve heard that it can be a very dangerous process. If the Titan rejects a speaker… it can be quite painful. Or, in Trypticon’s case, fatal.”

“I am aware of the risks. Which is why I think you are perfect for the job.”

Krok narrowed his optics, immediately picking up on the veiled meaning behind the Seeker’s words. He considered his options for escape but quickly realized he had none. Even if he had an alternate mode that he could transform into, he wouldn’t have been fast enough to get away from Starscream’s null-rays. And even if he did somehow manage to get away, Starscream would easily be able to brand him as a traitor and get the entire Decepticon Empire hunting him down.

He was well and truly trapped. There was no turning back. Either he died here and now… or he became a permanent part of whatever Starscream had schemed.

Sighing in defeat, he stepped towards Trypticon’s brain module. “Fine. I suppose there’s nothing to lose in trying…”

Starscream smirked. “That’s the spirit.”

Krok lifted his head up at the brain module, which truly was just a standard Cybertronian brain module but supersized to fit the size of a Titan. He scanned the module’s spherical surface before finally finding an exposed interface port. Raising an arm, he extended an interface probe and connected it with the port. Upon his touch, the brain module’s system instantly lit up and the entire chamber came to life around them.

“Whoooo… darrrreesss?” a deep, booming voice reverberated around them… or was it only in Krok’s head? He could not tell, but knew there was no time for him to figure that out.

“Trypticon?” he said carefully. “It’s me. Krok. Do you remember me?”

“Krok….” There was a sinister tone to the Titan’s voice, something which put Krok at unease. “Yesss… I remember you…”

“Okay. Good.” Krok wasn’t actually sure if that was good or not. He was just trying to keep the Titan placated and calm… if that was even possible. “Listen, I understand you’ve been through a lot as of late… but I need your help.”

“Help? Trypticon does not help.”

Krok shuttered his optics. “I understand. Trust me, I do. But we’re looking for answers and only you can provide them.”

“Answers? What answers could Trypticon possibly provide?”

“Well, first off, we need to know where you were in the nine hundred years you were missing. Before we discovered you on Clemency. Do you remember anything of what happened?”

“Remember?” The Titan chuckled, something which did nothing to assuage Krok’s uneasiness. “Oh, yes. Trypticon remembers.”

“Okay, that’s great. So, ah, could you tell me what happened?”

“Tell you? Why should I tell you… when I can show you?”

Before Krok could say anything, he felt a sharp pain in his processor and he cried out in agony. The world around him disappeared, only to be replaced with…

Cybertron. Primordial Cybertron, from the looks of it. He was surrounded by metal wastelands, with only scant signs of civilization.

He looked around and then down. The ground was much further away from him than he first thought. His feet were planted there solidly, he just… was a lot taller and bigger than he had previously imagined. 

There was someone standing there below him, wrapped in a cloak that sparkled with stars, almost as if it was a window into the cosmos. In their hand was some sort of staff, or scepter, which the spindly orange mech had raised in his direction.

“Who… are… you?” he spoke for the first time.

“I am Mortilus,” said the cloaked mech. “One of the five. And you would be?”

The answer came to him easily, even though he should have no way of knowing.

“I… am Trypticon.”

He blinked and the scene changed again. Cybertron appeared roughly the same, although some cities had been erected in the intervening years. Another stood before him, this one much more bulkier and larger, covered in armor plating that was as black as coal. The same scepter was in their hands and their optics seemed to blaze with the fires of the Inferno.

“Heed my call, Trypticon,” the stranger bellowed to him. “I am your master now.”

Trypticon’s eyes blazed back at the stranger. “And who are you to claim mastery over me?”

“I am Megatronus, one of the Thirteen Primes. I have reforged the Void Scepter once used to control you. Now, you shall answer to my commands!”

Try as he might, he could not break free from the scepter’s hold. All he could do was bow his large head in reverence to the Prime.

“Together,” Megatronus said, “we shall conquer all that we see.”

Memories continued to wash past him, some almost too blurry to make out. He saw his defeat at the hands of Metroplex. He saw his reawakening, where he had first heard the whispers of Trannis. He saw his second defeat at the hands of Metroplex, before his rival left him to drift in the eternal vastness of space.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the light first came to him. It was blinding at first and he needed to shutter his optics in order to withstand the intense glow. A voice spoke out to him—it must have been broadcasting into his mind somehow, given that he was still floating in the vacuum of space.

“How interesting. Of all the things to come across this far out, I certainly was not expecting Mortilus’ pet.”

From out of the light came a fleet of ships, all shaped in the form of the Decepticon insignia. Worldsweepers, as they were called. He wasn’t sure what prompted him—or if he was even in control of his own actions anymore—but he eventually scanned one of the Worldsweepers and before he knew it was converting himself to take on its form.

“You might come in handy when the time is right,” the ethereal voice continued to speak in his mind. “But for now, we need to hide you well lest your former masters come searching for you.”

Time once more became nebulous. His true personality remained dormant deep within his own body, superseded by that of Trannis. He soon became conscious of others walking aboard him, performing duties for this mysterious entity. Through his connection to Full-Tilt, he was able to see what they looked like. They appeared to be ordinary Decepticons, although they spoke of their new allegiance to this “Grand Architect” and the glorious purpose they were promised in return to their servitude.

But they would never live to fulfill that glorious purpose.

They came into contact with another ship—not Cybertronian by its appearance—and it shot them down over the planet of Clemency. Some of the crew—including first mate Switchblade—abandoned ship while others like Deadheat remained on board in an attempt to regain control of the ship. But it was all for naught and they ultimately perished in the crash.

Full-Tilt survived though, and it was perhaps because of that that he did as well. But with Full-Tilt in stasis and his Titanspark still unable to take control, all he could do was wait…

And wait…

And wait…

Krok gasped as he broke out of the connection, tearing himself away from the brain module and falling onto his back. Starscream expressed no concern for his well-being, instead glaring at him with a look of impatience.

“Well? What did you learn?”

Krok groaned as he got back up. “It was… it was the Grand Architect. He found him and used him as part of his fleet. Switchblade and his crew had joined him in secret and were working for them until the crash on Clemency. Some like Deadheat perished in the crash, but Switchblade escaped… at least until the DJD found him.”

“I trust you are satisfied with this information?” Trypticon’s voice rumbled throughout the chamber.

“Quite,” Starscream said. “Now then, if you do not mind, Trypticon, I would like to discuss—”

“THERE IS NOTHING TO DISCUSS!” Trypticon bellowed, startling Starscream enough that he nearly lost his footing as well. “I no longer answer to you or anyone! I forge my own path now!”

Starscream smirked. “Ah, that would be Trannis speaking there again.”

“Trannis?” The floor vibrated as Trypticon laughed. “Trannis is no longer a factor. For the first time in a thousand years, I can no longer hear his voice. I am finally free to do as I wish.”

A low hum began to fill the room, a sound which Krok instantly recognized, having heard it before.

“And what I wish now,” Trypticon finished, “is to conquer and destroy!”

“Oh no,” Krok muttered. “He’s going to warp!”

Starscream’s optics went wide as he cursed to himself. “Frag this! Get me out of here!”

He moved for the door only for it to slam shut in his face.

“Come now,” Trypticon said tauntingly. “Don’t you want to have front row seats? After all, I owe it to you for liberating me.”

Krok could only stand where he was, staring in disbelief at the Titan’s brain module, as time and space warped all around them.

Transformers Regenerated: Beyond Imagination IV, Chapter Four

FOUR: NOTHING MORE

 The Nemesis

“The Decepticon Syndicate, you say?”

“That is what they call themselves, yes.” Starscream stood beside Megatron on the bridge of the Nemesis as it made its way through hyperspace, en route to the Eshems Nebula. “They’ve even adopted their own unique insignia, from what I gather.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. “And how has this escaped my notice until now?”

“To his credit, Clench has kept a relatively low profile and knew when to play his cards. It has only been since your… first demise that he and his forces have been gradually distancing themselves from the rest of the Decepticon Empire. And, naturally, we have all been too preoccupied with other matters to take notice.”

Megatron kept his gaze solely on the viewport in front of him, and yet he could still detect—out of the corner of his optic—the familiar apparition of Shockwave standing to his right.

“No matter how much you tighten your grip, control still slips from your fingers,” the cyclopian Decepticon said to him. “Were you ever really in control to begin with?”

Megatron snarled to himself but refrained from retorting out loud—especially since he now had an audience here on the command bridge. Instead, he said, “Should Clench refuse me, are there any resources on his side that we should be concerned about?”

Starscream considered as he accessed his databanks for the necessary information. “Based on some reports, they have gotten their hands on a supply of forestonite, which may have given them enhanced abilities. There are also some subgroups that Clench may be attempting to turn into combiners, although I don’t believe the Syndicate has access to such technology.”

“Good. Which means he doesn’t have anything we cannot handle.” Megatron turned his gaze to Skywarp. “How long until our arrival?”

The black and purple Seeker studied his monitor. “We should be dropping out right about… now.”

On cue, the lines of hyperspace coalesced once more into stars and the orange glow of the Eshems Nebula filled the viewport. Centered in the Nemesis’ sights was the planet of Ejoornus, homeworld of the Ejoornians and self-proclaimed capital of the Decepticon Syndicate.

Or at least, it was supposed to be.

Megatron frowned at the approaching world. Based on the intelligence Starscream had provided him, Ejoornus was supposed to be an organic world, covered in green swamps and rocky terrain. Instead, the planet before them was completely coated in metal, not at all resembling the images that had been provided to him.

“What is the meaning of this?” He glared at Starscream. “Don’t tell me you gave us the wrong coordinates.”

Starscream, for whatever it was worth, appeared to be genuinely shocked. “I… I don’t understand. I knew the intelligence was a few years out of date but surely—”

“Uh, my lord, we’re being hailed,” Skywarp said.

Megatron stepped forward, moving closer to the viewport. “Put them on, now,” he commanded.

Within seconds, the entire viewport lit up, replacing the view of Ejoornus with the grilled visage of Clench. The Decepticon warlord narrowed his optics as he recognized the Decepticon leader.

“Megatron,” Clench growled. “I was wondering when you would finally make your move. I was beginning to worry you had forgotten all about me.”

“I have no patience for any games, Clench,” Megatron growled. “Your days of playing warlord are over. Relinquish command of your troops to me at once or suffer the consequences!”

Clench laughed, steam exiting from the vents in his grill-shaped mouthplate. “Oh, that is rich. You truly believe you still have control over me? You do not intimidate me, Megatron. You never have.”

Megatron took another step towards the viewscren, fury blazing in his optics. “Stand down now or perish. I will not repeat myself.”

Clench leaned forward in his seat, his optics narrowed to slits. “You do not scare me, Optronix. To me, you will always be Trannis’ pet. Nothing more.”

Those words struck something in Megatron’s processor. Everything else became a blur to him. He did not remember which happened first or in what order: him blasting the viewscreen, and thus the viewport, nearly causing everyone and everything to be sucked out into the vacuum of space; him ordering all combiners, all Warriors Elite to be deployed; him ordering Trypticon to be summoned to flatten Ejoornus into a metal disk; him transforming to his spacecraft mode and taking off towards Ejoornus; him calling for Lugnut to deliver his punch of destruction (or whatever it was called)…

He supposed it didn’t really matter the order in which he gave his commands. They would all lead to the same result.

*  *  *

“Well, well. That went better than expected.”

Having regathered himself after lowering the blast shield to replace the shattered viewport, Skywarp looked up at Starscream in surprise. “Better?! He’s completely lost it!”

Starscream smirked, folding his arms. “That’s exactly the point, Skywarp. He’s once again proved himself to be unfit for command. I mean, what sort of leader lashes out so easily like that?”

Behind him, Thundercracker scoffed. “Oh, please. As if you would be any better. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to lead us, Starscream, and you failed at them each and every time.”

Starscream turned to his blue-plated comrade and feigned a look of surprise. “Who said anything about me assuming command? No, no, I have learned my mistake, my friend. I am definitely not suited for leadership.”

Thundercracker tilted his head. “Yeah? Who is then? We’re kind of short on options. Shockwave’s gone, Scorponok’s gone… I suppose there’s Deathsaurus….”

Starscream smiled. “There is one you are forgetting, my friend.”

“Oh, yeah? Who would that be?”

Instead of answering him, Starscream turned back to Skywarp. “Has Trypticon answered our glorious leader’s summons?”

“Uh…” Skywarp double-checked his monitor. “Yeah, actually. He’s just dropped out of hyperspace. Along with the rest of the fleet. Megatron really called in for all the guns, didn’t he?”

“Yes, well, some of those guns will have to wait to be fired. Tell Trypticon to stand by; I want to have a quick chat with him.”

Thundercracker studied Starscream with a skeptical expression. “What exactly are you up to, ‘Screamer?”

Starscream’s smile broadened into a full-on grin. “Just making some amendments.”

 *  *  *

“Um, Lord Clench…?”

“Yes, I see him.” Clench rose from his throne, his eyes locked on the screens that showed Megatron in his spaceship mode making his fast descent through the planet’s atmosphere. “Clearly I’ve touched a nerve.”

“There’s more,” said his battle analyst Calcar. “I’m picking up dozens, maybe even hundreds of spark signatures emerging from the Nemesis. After taking a closer look, I spotted the Combaticons, Stunticons, and Constructicons among them… whom, if reports are to be believed, have been reconfigured into combiners. Oh, and I believe Sixshot and Killmaster might be among them. He’s really bringing in the big guns.”

“Yes, well, we have bigger.” Clench chuckled to himself as he folded his arms. “Still, it might be amusing to see how this plays out before we move to that level. Tell Skyquake to dispatch his Predators, and have Rage prepare his Stormtroopers. And make sure Deluge is on standby with his experiments.”

“As you command.” Calcar paused before looking up at his leader. “And what of the Legions?”

“I will see to them myself.” Behind his grill-shaped mouthplate, Clench allowed himself a sadistic smile. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

*  *  *

“This isn’t going to work.”

Drag Strip groaned as he held onto one of the gunship’s support beams, waiting for it to make its descent through Ejoornus’ atmosphere. “Don’t start with this, Dead End. The last thing we need is your morose diatribes.”

“Fine,” Dead End groused. “Just don’t come crying to me when everything ends in tears… assuming we come out of it in one piece.”

“Don’t worry, Dead End,” Wildrider said, a twisted grin on his red face. “We’ll make sure you get reduced to scrap no matter what the outcome. I’m sure Offroad will be happy to take your spot.”

“Is Offroad even still around?” Breakdown looked around the gunship’s interior with wide optics, as if scanning for unseen phantoms. “I heard that they got to him.”

Drag Strip frowned. “Who the frag is ‘they?’”

Breakdown’s head snapped to him and raised a finger to his mouth to shush him. “Quiet! They’ve got audio receptors everywhere.”

“I’m going to rip out your audio receptors if you don’t shut up about—”

“Enough,” growled Motormaster, the shadow of his frame eclipsing the other four Stunticons. “The time has come.”

The side doors of the gunship slipped open, allowing the furious winds of the planet’s atmosphere to whip through the interior. Startled by the rush of air, Breakdown lost his grip on his support beam and fell off the ship, plummeting towards the ground below. Wildrider joyously jumped after him, cackling all the way down. Dead End looked down morosely after them, only dropping as well when Motormaster shoved him off the ship.

As the Stunticon leader’s gaze turned to Drag Strip, the yellow-plated mech glared up at him. “This had better work…”

Motormaster grinned at him, completely without mirth. “Only one way to find out, yes?”

With that, he pulled Drag Strip with him as he fell out of the gunship. The five Stunticons fell freely through the atmosphere of the planet, fast approaching the surface. As their bodies drew closer to one another, as if being pulled together by some invisible force, all of their thoughts and emotions seemed to coalesce together. Drag Strip’s drive to win above all else became infected with Breakdown’s paranoia that someone would try to take victory away from him; Wildrider’s excitement to watch everything burn was hampered by Dead End’s dread. Only Motormaster’s complete lack of mercy and utter ruthlessness managed to keep them somewhat focused on the task at hand… just long enough for all of their minds and bodies to link together into a singular form.

By the time they touched the ground, which concaved from the force of impact, Menasor had opened his optics for the first time. As the combiner drew itself up to its full height, a menacing grin split across its face as it lifted a massive sword above its head.

This, the collective consciousnesses of the Stunticons decided, was definitely going to work.

*  *  *

“Oh, frag, they’ve got combiners?! How’s this gonna be a fair fight?”

“Calm down, Talon,” Skyquake replied, leading his flight of Predator jets as they soared through the skies. “This is what we trained for.”

“We didn’t train for combiners!”

“Nor did we train for fighting against fellow Decepticons,” pointed out Snare. “And yet, here we are.”

Those words did little to nothing to calm Talon’s nerves as the turquoise jet continued to mutter to himself. Skyquake supposed he couldn’t blame him fully for being intimidated by this scenario. Centuries ago, Talon, along with fellow Predator Falcon, had been among the casualties of the Battle of Vehicon. It had only been when Skyquake had sided with Clench’s splinter faction that the two were given a new lease on life, courtesy of Clench’s elusive benefactor.

Skyquake had no clue who this mysterious benefactor was or how they had managed to revive Falcon and Talon (among others from what he had heard), but he had not bothered to question Clench about it. It did not negatively impact the Decepticon Syndicate or its operations—quite the opposite actually—and so he had decided to let Clench keep his secrets.

If anything, he would have thought this would have boosted morale among the Decepticons, giving them the knowledge that they could have another chance at life even if they perished. Instead, those who had experienced resurrection or had heard of it were either skittish like Talon was now, or expressed apathy like Falcon seemed to.

Whatever the case, Skyquake could only hope that it would not interfere with their focus on the task at hand. While he had his own reservations about battling fellow Decepticons, his allegiance to Clench was clear, as were his orders. And he would see them fulfilled to the end.

As they approaching the raging gestalt identified as Menasor, Skyquake delivered his own orders to the other four Predator jets. “Prepare to commence strafing run. Aim for his connection points.”

Almost in unison, the Predator jets activated their enhanced targeting systems just as Skyquake readied his own Megavisor. Zooming in on the visual of Menasor, he aligned his targeting reticule with the connection point that linked the combiner’s right arm—made from Drag Strip—to its torso. If they could sever the connection of at least two of the gestalt’s components, then perhaps the others would follow in quick succession.

Once his target was in range, Skyquake lit up his guns, as did the other fliers, hitting their targets precisely. Menasor roared from the sudden barrage before quickly adjusting his massive sword to deflect the last few shots of the onslaught. His optics then flared as the Predators moved to fly above him and he swung his blade upward at them. While most of the fliers managed to get out of swinging range, Skydive was not so fortunate as the sword cut through his entire left side, taking away one of his wings. The maroon jet let out a cry as he plunged towards the ground below.

Skyquake did not look to see if Skydive survived impact or not. The point was moot, of course, knowing now what Clench’s benefactor was capable of. Granted, it all depended on whether or not Clench would deem him worthy of being revived.

Skyquake found that thought to be quite sobering, and for the first time he was beginning to understand why Talon and others were so apprehensive. Still, such thoughts would have to be pushed to the back of his processor as the Predators came back around and prepared for another strafing run….

*  *  *

The sounds of the battle outside were nothing more than a distant thrum as Clench moved deeper into the chambers of his fortress. Calcar was delivering him the progress of the battle in real-time over comms, but he barely heeded any attention to it. It honestly did not matter to him whether or not Megatron and his forces crushed those of the Syndicate; it would ultimately end with Megatron’s demise one way or another.

Opening the door to the chamber furthest from the rest of the structure, Clench stepped inside and sealed it shut behind him. The only illumination in the room came from the vats of energon that filled up the chamber, which in turn highlighted the silhouette of the only other occupant in the room.

“It is time,” Clench said to the shrouded figure. “Ready the Legions for release.”

The other mech did not move from where they stood in the shadows. “I cannot do so unless you give me a satisfactory reason.”

Clench closed his hands into fists, barely containing his simmering rage. “Megatron is here, and he has practically brought his entire army. The only sure way to defeat his forces is to overwhelm them. Then, once we have crushed Megatron, they will all be brought to heel and our vision of a true Decepticon Empire will be brought to fruition.”

“’Our’ vision?”

Clench growled as he stomped his foot, nearly shaking the chamber. “Look, are you going to release them or not? This is the moment we have been preparing for!”

“Correction: It’s the moment you have been preparing for. I have simply been giving you the resources necessary to make those preparations.”

“Then you should do what is necessary to make use of those resources! If you will not do it, then I—”

“Lord Clench?” Calcar’s voice crackled through his comm.

Clench flexed his hand, rage boiling in his spark. “Not now, Calcar. I’m busy—”

“It’s… it’s Megatron. He’s broken through our front lines.”

“Keep him preoccupied then. I need more time to ready the Legions.”

“He’s… he’s already… oh, god, he’s already broken into the fortress! We’re trying to stop him but none of our weapons have any effect on him!”

Over the comm, Clench could hear the sound of blaster fire and screaming, drowned out only by the sound of a fusion cannon going off. For the briefest of moments, Clench felt his rage temporarily subside, replaced with a growing sense of dread and fear. However, he quickly quashed such feelings as he whirled on his benefactor.

“Release the Legions, now! We must stop Megatron before he—”

Another scream filled the comm, this time coming from Calcar himself. Then, he heard a familiar voice come over the channel.

“I told you I wouldn’t repeat myself, Clench. Now you will pay the price for your disloyalty.”

The connection ended, and Clench soon heard the sound of thrusters fast approaching him, growing louder by the second. He figured Calcar or someone had given away his location, as before he had even finished turning around to face the door, it was atomized with a single blast from a fusion cannon. Emerging from the smoke was a gray and black-plated figure, bristling with weaponry. A fanged mask covered the Decepticon leader’s face as red optics blazed with unbridled fury.

Clench did not waste his energy with words. He unfurled the minigun attached to his left arm, took aim, and unleashed all of the rage he had contained within himself.

The pellets bounced off harmlessly from Megatron’s armor plating as he advanced towards Clench. He threw in a punch with his left arm, which Clench blocked with the riot shield mounted onto his right. The Decepticon leader then grabbed the edge of the shield and tore it off without any effort. He tossed it aside and it crashed into one of the vats, spilling energon onto the floor. Megatron did not pay it any mind as he then grabbed Clench by the neck, hoisted him off the floor, and slammed him into another one of the vats, shattering it as well.

Clench fell to the floor, and before he could get back up Megatron brought his foot down onto his back, pinning him in place. As the Decepticon leader brought his fusion cannon to the warlord’s head, Clench’s optics instantly went to all of the energon that now flooded the chamber.

“Don’t, Megatron!” he cried out. “If you fire now, we will all perish!”

“You might,” Megatron said coldly. “But I trust that my armor plating is reinforced enough to withstand such a blast.”

“And what about your troops? They may very well be caught in the blast radius.”

“They can be replaced.”

“How? You haven’t the means or the resources—”

“You would be surprised by what I have at my disposal.” Megatron began charging his fusion cannon. “Then again, I suppose you won’t live long enough to learn that.”

“Wait, Megatron! I—I have things you can use! Resources you might not have! You see those vats?”

Megatron looked up lazily towards the surrounding cylinders. “Oh, were those always there? I hadn’t noticed,” he said sardonically.

“They contain protoforms! Rapidly replicating protoforms! You can use them to create an infinite legion of clone soldiers, all for you to command!”

“My, how considerate of you.” Megatron lowered his fusion cannon. “Well then, I suppose I shouldn’t kill you here.”

Clench allowed himself to be filled with relief as Megatron lifted his foot. “Yes, thank you, Lord Megatron. I’m glad you could see—”

Before he could finish, Megatron grabbed him by the back of the neck before kicking on a pair of back thrusters. Raising his weapon arm, he blasted a path through the ceiling as he took Clench up through the fortress and out, blasting towards the sky.

As the ground rapidly became smaller and smaller beneath them, Clench’s mind raced for a way to break himself free without perishing in the process. Knowing his weapons would be of no use, he could only use his words.

“Wait, Megatron! I have connections—a benefactor who can be of use to you! If you spare me I can get you in contact with him!”

“Not interested.” Slowing their ascent, Megatron looked down at Clench as he dangled him over the ground, which was no thousands of feet below them. “I am truly sorry it had to come to this, Clench. You were always one of my most formidable generals. But unfortunately, an example has to be made.”

Clench could only stare up at the Decepticon leader in silence. For the first time in his life, he was scared by what he saw.

“But don’t worry,” Megatron finished. “I won’t wait for you to hit the ground.”

He then released his hold on Clench before immediately taking aim with his fusion cannon. As he fell to the ground, the last thing he saw was a purple flash of energy.

*  *  *

Skyquake was the first to spot Clench’s descent—mere seconds before he was obliterated in a single blast from Megatron’s fusion cannon. In that instant, Skyquake knew what had to be done, knowing that he was the next in line of command.

“This is Skyquake to all Syndicate forces! Clench has been destroyed. As Air Commander and acting ruler of the Decepticon Syndicate, I order all forces to stand down.”

Thankfully, no one protested his orders. Megatron had already made an example of several on the ground, breaking into the main fortress with ease. It wouldn’t have surprised him if many had already accepted defeat by that point.

Within moments, whatever was left of the Syndicate forces had assembled outside of the fortress, laying down arms to their Decepticon foes-turned-compatriots once more. When Megatron came back down from the sky, he accepted Skyquake’s surrender and did not appear to hold any animosity towards him or any of the Syndicate forces for their previous loyalty to Clench, even appearing to be somewhat amicable. It was almost as if him executing Clench had gotten something out of his system.

As losses and damages were assessed, Megatron pulled Skyquake aside and led him towards the fortress, where Calcar and others who had barely survived the Decepticon leader’s massacre were being recovered.

“Tell me, Skyquake,” Megatron said as he gestured widely to the planet’s metallic landscape. “What exactly happened here? I thought Ejoornus was an organic world.”

“It was,” Skyquake replied. “It was cyberformed.”

“Cyberformed? I thought we had lost the means to do such things.”

“We did. But Clench got into contact with some… benefactor who provided him with the means to do so. As well as other resources….”

“The replicating protoforms?”

Skyquake shrugged. “First I’m hearing about that. I also know he has been able to revive some soldiers thought dead, such as a few of my Predators.”

“Interesting.” Megatron rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I was somewhat hasty in executing him before he could divulge such details. But, no matter. We will make use of what remains here.”

“Lord Megatron!”

Both Decepticons turned to see Skywarp teleporting to their position. The black and purple Seeker fell to his knees, exhausted from exerting his powers.

Megatron grabbed him by the wing and pulled him up. “What is it?” he snarled.

“It’s Trypticon!” Skywarp exclaimed. “He’s… he’s gone! He’s teleported away!”

“What?!” Megatron’s optics flared in anger. “I thought we disabled him to prevent him from acting on his own accord!”

“I know. But… Starscream went to him and—”

“Starscream?!” Megatron pulled Skywarp closed, causing the Seeker to wince in pain. “What are you saying?!”

“I’m saying that Starscream left to talk to Trypticon and now Trypticon is gone.”

Skyquake could only step back and watch as Megatron threw Skywarp to the ground, raised his arms to the sky, and screamed at the stars.