CHAPTER FOUR
--Outpost One--
"How in the Fallen's forsaken name have you not found him yet?"
"We had him, boss," answered the bovid Chimeracon known as Longhorn, staring at the many screens playing before him. "He was just on Level Seven but then he--"
"He can't just vanish like some kind of magic freak," Carnivac snarled, his hands balled into fists. "He's not an Outlier or anything like that. He's a clone."
"Look, I'm just telling you what I--"
"Carnivac!"
Both Chimeracons turned to a white and blue feliform comrade of theirs. Her optics were glued to a screen showing the level which held the captive Wreckers.
"I think he's making his way to Level Thirteen," Frostbite said. "Both Spiketail and Screechwing have gone missing."
"Figures," Carnivac muttered, stepping over to her. "Who else do we have on that level?"
"Reptilion, Rapticon and those three mooks Gigatron always has with him."
"Have them deal with him," Carnivac ordered. "And tell them I'll be along shortly."
He was about to leave when Longhorn spoke up again. "Wait!"
Carnivac growled. "What now?"
"Something just came out of hyperspace within our range."
"It's probably Oil Slick with--"
"No. It's not Decepticon." Longhorn pivoted to give him a meaningful look. "It's Autobot."
Carnivac said nothing at first, his processor racing. After a moment, he said, "Alert Tarantulas and Gigatron. Now."
* * *
Stepping over the deactivated Chimeracon bat, Convoy looked over his shoulder at the sealed blast doors. More were coming, he was sure. He wouldn't have much time. Fortunately, he was the fast-action type.
Making his way down the hall, he checked each of the rooms for any of the Wreckers or Prowl. The first few turned up empty, holding little more than supplies. Than he reached the fifth room...
...And immediately recoiled from the smell that greeted his olfactory sensors.
Toxitron.
The yellow-green clone of Optimus Prime was restrained to a medical slab, held by a single clamp around his waist, two around his wrists, and another pair around his ankles. His chestplate was opened slightly, showing not his spark... but rather a very specifically designed space.
A Matrix-shaped space.
Convoy quickly dismissed the thought that had entered his mind. As absurd as the prospect of a Toxitron Prime was, he figured it was simply a mandatory element for an Optimus clone. He had a Matrix cavity of his own, of course.
But why would they be studying Toxitron's?
Reminding himself to make haste, Convoy vanquished any further pondering and set about freeing his fellow clone, tearing off each of the clamps one by one. As soon as he had taken off the waist clamp, he was thanked by a purple fist slamming into his face, sending him flying across the room.
Quickly recovering from the unexpected assault, Convoy got back to his feet and glared at Toxitron, who was already stepping off of the slab.
"You grease-logged diode. I'm trying to save you!"
Toxitron simply grunted, dusting himself off.
Shaking his head in irritation, Convoy gestured for the twisted clone to follow him. "Come on. Let's find the others."
"It are useful. It too early for them."
Convoy frowned, deciphering Toxitron's backwards way of speaking. "What do you mean it's too late?"
"Spider-bot not be taking them to nice place. Me not hear others talking about it."
"What place? What did you hear about it?"
"It not called Noisemaze. That nothing me know."
"I don't suppose you know where this Noisemaze is?"
Toxitron simply shrugged.
"Great." Revving to himself, Convoy racked his mind over how to proceed now. The Decepticons would be here any minute now. Time was of the essence.
Suddenly, an alarm started to sound, bathing the room in red. A computerized voice blared from speakers overhead.
"All hands to battle stations. Repeat: All hands to battle stations."
Well, that was certainly convenient. Hopefully, this would buy him some extra time.
"Let's get a move on," he said to Toxitron, converting to his truck mode. "We won't make any progress by hanging around."
"Me am in disagreement," Toxitron replied, transforming in kind.
The two clones of Optimus Prime then kicked into gear and peeled out into the hallway.
* * *
"Anything yet?"
"See, here's the thing," Crossblades replied, flying the Leading Light over the surface of the Tyrosian moon. "I'm picking up lots of energon signatures and it's, like, all over the moon."
Rodimus frowned, standing behind the tan and orange bot as he looked at her monitor. "No sign of a base or anything?"
"None. And I highly doubt they're cloaked; otherwise we wouldn't be--"
Without warning, something struck the shuttle from outside. The ship rocked violently, knocking Rodimus and the others off-balance. Crossblades managed to hold on to the controls, but nothing she did was enough to stop them from crashing to the ground. Once everything had come to a shaky stop, Whirl wasted no time in making an opening in the shuttle's hull.
"Next time, I vote we all just drop out of the ship," he said. "Would probably be more efficient than crashing all the time."
"Any idea what shot us down?" Rodimus asked as Whirl climbed out of the shuttle.
Before the ex-Wrecker could answer, he was suddenly grabbed by a pair of talons and pulled out of the ship. Alarmed, Rodimus and the others all scrambled out and emerged on the lunar surface.
Before them hovered a bat-like creature, colored in black and purple, with Whirl in its grasp. Along with the creature were several other bestial bots, all coming together to surround the Autobots. Rising from the craters of the moon were several turrets and other weapon emplacements.
As the twenty Autobots brandished their weapons, Rodimus heard Drift say, "Call it a hunch, but I think we've found our Outpost One."
"Yeah," Rodimus murmured. "I'd say that's a good guess."
---The Lost Light---
"You know, I can sit here all day."
Archforce continued to remain silent, never meeting Skids' eye. The blue and red Autobot sighed as he crossed his arms, resting his head against the wall behind him.
"Look, it's not like I'm asking you to lay out the 'Cons' master plan for me, although that would be great as well. I just want to understand this whole Megatron clone thing and you're pretty much our only link."
Archforce still did not speak. Skids wasn't sure if the clone was even listening to him.
"I mean, my main question is why? Why were you made? Why were you kept? I mean, it's clearly not you that's currently leading the Decepticons. Why were so many of you made and not gotten rid of once they got it just right?"
To Skids' surprise, Archforce finally looked up at him -- and to his even greater surprise bore a forlorn look.
"I wish I could tell you," the clone said. "Truly. Those questions haunt me every second I'm alive. From the moment my optics first turned on, I was told I was a failure before being shoved back into my capsule."
Skids frowned. "Who told you you were a failure?"
Archforce shook his head. "I don't know. I don't remember seeing them, just hearing their voice."
"And you were never released again until Dealer brought you here?"
"As far as I can recall, yes."
"Right." Skids rose to his feet and deactivated the energy beams of the cell. "Thank you for your time then."
"Wait." Archforce looked up at him, his optics suddenly filled with worry. "What's going to happen to me?"
Skids blinked. "Pardon?"
"What are you going to do with me? Are you going to keep me locked up or...?"
"I don't know," Skids said, shrugging. "Why do you ask?"
"I... I don't want to be thrown away. I don't want to be tossed aside because of... because of who I am -- or who I am supposed to be."
Skids stared at him for a long moment, unsure on how to respond. With some reluctance, he finally said, "You'll be fine. I promise."
He instantly regretted this lie when he saw the small sad smile cross Archforce's face....
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