CHAPTER TEN
Sat atop his throne-like command chair on his warship, the Nemesis, Megatron stared at the work-in-progress that was Trypticon. Everything was nearly complete; the Constructicons had been able to salvage the Titan's remains on Dabola to speed up the process, and now all it required was a spark to power it.
As he continued to gaze at the unfinished monster, Megatron mused over the news he had received from Taros VII. Scourge, his selected leader of the Warriors Elite, had been apprehended by the Wreckers. He had no doubt that the Autobots would restore him as Orion Pax and eliminate the persona of Scourge which he had created.
While he was hardly pleased by this, Megatron wasn't much surprised, either. Knowing his brother as well as he did, it was only a matter of time before Orion's "pure spark" conquered the corrupt one of Scourge.
"Lord Megatron."
The Decepticon leader glanced at the purple cyclops who had appeared next to him. The former Autobot councilor's single optic was focused on him, as it usually was.
"What is it, Shockwave?" Megatron growled.
"Your five 'fail-safes' wish to know if they are to track down Scourge and eliminate him."
"No. Scourge was never truly loyal to us in the first place. His defection is less of a dissension and more of a... permanent leave."
"I see," Shockwave muttered. "And what of Trypticon? Do we have a viable enough spark to control it?"
A wicked grin crossed Megatron's face. "Certainly."
From beside his throne, he brought out a small, cylindrical case. Inside it was a green spark, rapidly pulsing as if it was angered.
"Trannis' spark," Shockwave said, sounding vaguely surprised. "Are you sure his consciousness won't take over Trypticon and turn against you?"
"Of course. I wouldn't be much of an emperor if I didn't take the necessary precautions."
"So, in the likelihood- however small- that Trypticon does turn against you, would you be able to stop him?"
Megatron's grin contorted into a sneer. "Do you underestimate me, Shockwave?"
"No," the one-eyed Decepticon said. "I simply believe that you overestimate yourself."
Before Megatron could retort, Shockwave turned and strode off the bridge, leaving the Decepticon leader alone to admire the product of his machinations.
* * *
Windblade stared with cold fury at the imprisoned Deadlock. A stasis field, an imposing guard, and her still-wavering sense of honor were all that kept her from entering the cell and executing the Decepticon.
"Staring at him won't turn him into a turbofox," the guard said sardonically.
Windblade glared at him but said nothing, instead turning on her heels and walking away from the cell and out of the prison. Night had fallen on the streets of Iacon, which were nearly deserted save for the patrolling Autotroopers. She would have to do well to evade them; Zeta Prime's revised curfew was even more stricter than Sentinel's had been.
Activating her cloaking system- though it wouldn't do much good with the Autotroopers' upgraded sensors- Windblade moved swiftly through the night, converting into her jet mode and taking off. She wasn't sure where she was headed, but it had to be far away from Iacon and Deadlock. The temptation to kill him was too strong and Zeta's regime was like that of a tyrant's. There was no life for her to hold here.
Then I know the perfect place for you.
The voice startled Windblade and caused her to land and revert back to her robot mode. She looked around but saw no one nearby. It was then that she realized that the voice was in her head.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly.
I have no time to explain. Travel to Theophany. Find Dai Atlas and warn him...
"Warn him of what?"
The Dark Evangelist. He is not yet a threat, but if Dai Atlas is not warned soon...
"What?" Windblade asked urgently. "What?"
The voice did not respond.
* * *
"He's awake."
"Good," he heard Ratchet say. "I didn't want to have another dead patient...."
Orion Pax awoke to find himself in Ratchet's medibay, something which happened far too often. Standing over him were the medics First Aid and Ambulon- the latter who had recently defected from the Decepticons. As they helped him sit up, Orion was pleased to find that he was back in his old body, or at least a new one based on the old one. However, the sight of his disembodied Scourge form, placed in a nearby corner, certainly disturbed him.
"This better not become a habit of yours, Orion," Ratchet said half-jokingly as he returned from another patient. "I've kinda lost track on how many times I've fixed you."
Orion smiled. "You could always transfer me to a different doctor."
"Well, I was free, so...." The medic shrugged. "Anyway, how are you feeling?"
"Never better," Orion said. "I'm just glad to be finally rid of that Scourge guy."
Ratchet frowned. First Aid looked down and scratched the back of his head. Ambulon rocked on his feet and whistled uneasily.
Worry creased Orion's brow. "What is it?"
"Yeah, about that Scourge thing," Ratchet said. "While you were out, we brought Rung in to figure out that dual persona thing."
"And what was his diagnosis?"
"Basically, you have two choices: either you keep Scourge in your body and try to restrain him, or we transfer him to that empty shell over there."
"What's the catch with the second option?"
"That you keep Scourge alive at all times," Ratchet said. "Because if he dies... so do you."
"You mean we have a connection?" Orion asked.
"Yes. No doubt something Megatron put in to make your life miserable even if we saved you."
Orion sighed and stared at Scourge's lifeless body. Though it seemed like a difficult decision, it did not take him long to make it.
"All right," he said. "Separate us."
* * *
Prometheus stood on the precipice of the moon which he had long been stranded on. Staring at the star which said moon orbited, he savored this moment; the prelude to his conquest. Then, he sent out the call.
"Heed me, my brothers. For too long have we been forgotten or ignored by our descendants. Now is the time to reclaim our lost glory and begin the legacy of Primus anew.
"Heed me, my brothers. Heed the call of the last Titan."
And the call was answered.
TO BE CONTINUED
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