CHAPTER FOUR
--Necrobot's planet--
Rodimus stared up at his own face.
He wasn't sure why it was so disconcerting for him to be looking at a holographic statue of himself. In fact, he should have been over the moon for such a thing. But something about its presence here was just off-putting. Maybe because it felt like a memorial statue; it even had a plague with his name, home-city, and date of forging. It even read "Rodimus" instead of "Hot Rod!" This Necrobot was up to date.
"This is so weird," he said aloud, because no one else had so far. "Why have statues of people who aren't even dead?"
"I think that's the idea, Rodimus," Minimus Ambus said, standing by an empty plinth. "Look here: this has a plaque dedicated to Sidestep, an Autobot who fell in battle at Hydrus Four."
"So it's like a tally of every Cybertronian who's ever lived," Nightbeat said. "When one dies, their statue gets turned off, until every plinth on the planet is empty."
"Well done," Ultra Trion said dryly, clapping his hands. "Brilliant detective work. I'm sure no one else has come to that conclusion."
"Hey, it doesn't hurt to make sure everyone's on the same page," the detective retorted. "Besides, there's still the question of how the Necrobot even keeps track of it all...."
"Well, I'm seeing some sort of compound up ahead," said Windblade, descending down from her jet mode. "I'm willing to bet our Necrobot will be there."
"Um, wait."
Everyone stopped and turned to look at Rewind, who had spoken. The archivist sheepishly shifted his feet, casting a glance at Chromedome who stood closely by.
"I... you see, when Domey and I heard about this whole Necrobot thing, we were... well, I was kind of hoping that... that...."
Chromedome put a hand on his Conjunx's shoulder as he spoke for him. "We want to find Dominus Ambus."
"Oh. Right." Rodimus hummed to himself as he thought for a moment. "Well... how exactly do you intend on searching for him? Go to each and every plinth until you find him or his name?"
Rewind exchanged a look with Chromedome. "I... don't really see any other option."
"Tell you what." Windblade stepped forward, wearing a facial expression that indicated she didn't really want to say what she was about to say. "I'll go with the two of you. I can scout ahead from above and see if I can find his statue while you guys search the empty ones."
"You...." Rewind looked taken aback by this. "You would do that for us?"
Windblade shrugged. "Sure. I mean, why not--"
"Thank you!" The archivist threw himself at her, hugging her by the waist. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Windblade looked at him oddly before glancing at Chromedome. "Is he always this...?"
"Dominus means a lot to him," the mnemosurgeon replied. "Anything that gets us closer to him makes him excitable."
While Rewind continued to heap his thanks onto a slightly embarrassed Windblade, Rodimus looked over to Minimus. "You want to go with them? Dominus is your spark-brother, isn't he?"
Minimus slowly shook his head. "No, no, that's... it's not really necessary--"
"I think you should," Rodimus said, patting him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't get into any trouble. Besides, Ratchet will be with us."
"Against my better judgment," the Autobot medic muttered.
Minimus looked ready to protest but instead let out a sigh. "Oh, very well. Do be careful though. We still don't know whether this Necrobot is a friendly or not."
"We will. Don't worry." With that, Rodimus converted to his car mode and revved his engine. "Autobots, let's roll out."
--Outpost Three--
"Mother is getting impatient, sir."
Onslaught made an exasperated noise as he leaned against the railing, staring at the restrained gestalt before him. Even though no life glowed in Monstructor's optics, it still felt as if the ancient combiner was staring at him, judging him. He figure that it was just the stress making him paranoid... at least, he hoped so.
"Sir? Did you hear me? I said--"
"I heard what you said, Fractyl," Onslaught snapped. "And I know she's getting impatient. You've already told me she was an hour ago."
"That wasn't me. That was--" Fractyl caught Onslaught's warning glare in time and quickly changed gears. "Um. Right. Anyway... what do you think we should do?"
"We can't unleash Monstructor," the Combaticon leader said. "That much is clear. I don't care what Mother says; letting Monstructor loose would too easily upset our plans."
"But if we disobey Mother, she'll--"
"I know." Onslaught growled lowly as he gripped the railing. "Unless Scrapper and his Constructicons can speed up the process -- or by some miracle the Enigma drops on our lap -- we may have to--"
"Sir!" Both Decepticons turned to see a brown and purple mech rush up to them. "They're here!"
Onslaught's visor narrowed. "Who's here?"
"The Heralds. They've just landed outside."
Onslaught wasted no time in staying any longer and strode down the walkway with Fractyl and the other bot not far behind.
* * *
Unit-3 could not believe what he was seeing.
On one of the countless screens that surrounded Mother, he saw them. The Heralds of Unicron. A threat they had thought vanquished when their master was destroyed. Apparently that had only been a minor setback.
Of the three Heralds disembarking from their ship, he could only identify one: Jhiaxus. Nova Prime's chief scientist and the creator of Monstructor, the first combiner.
This spelled trouble. If the 'Cons had indeed lost the Enigma of Combination, then Jhiaxus had to be their backup plan. He would almost surely speed up the progress they were already making and they would start producing combiners in a matter of days.
He had to do something. He had already sent High Command a report, but he wasn't sure if they had gotten it. If they had, they surely would have been here by now.
No, he would have to tackle this issue at the source. He had been given strict orders to keep to the shadows and to not handle the situation directly... but at this point, did it even matter? Would his disobedience of one order matter if it meant saving lives?
Knowing his superiors, it probably would. But right now, he was well past the point of caring. It was now or never, and if he didn't act now, there would never be another chance at this.
Mother had her back turned to him, optics glued to the monitors. Drawing his gun, Unit-3 took a step forward.
Oh, how foolish of you, child.
He froze in place, almost against his will. His pedals refused to take another step and his trigger finger was equally unresponsive.
Did you really think it would be that easy? That I could be so easily dealt with?
He watched helplessly as the apparatus rotated and he came face-to-face with Mother. Her only identifiable body part was her head, which stared at him with lifeless, dimly lit yellow optics.
Of course, I had led you to believe so, hadn't I? I had feigned obliviousness to your presence in order to lure you into a false sense of security. It was very endearing to watch if I am to be frank.
Unable to move, Unit-3 began to compile another message for High Command in his processor. In case something were to befall him today, at least he would die having done some--
Oh, your message won't be going anywhere. None of them have, actually. I'm afraid your Autobot friends won't be coming to your rescue anytime soon. Everything you've done here has been a complete waste.
Unit-3 did not know how to respond to his. As his spark slowly slunk into despair, he came to the bitter realization: this was it. This was the end of the mission.
And he had failed.
Don't feel so bad. You are not without your uses.
Behind him, Unit-3 felt something sharp prickle his neck. Around him, the room began to spin....
But for now, it's time to rest. Sleep well, child....
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