CHAPTER ONE
--Tebris VII--
"Now, now. P-perhaps we can reach an agreement...."
"I'm sure we can," Spacewarp said, keeping her gun trained on Demus. "We can even start with you releasing the Mini-Cons."
The small brown Monoformer trembled in fear as he stared up at the larger Decepticon. "You don't understand, Spacewarp! Mini-Cons are an endangered breed after what the Black Block Consortia did to their world! Many of them are in need of a new home!"
"Keep going," Spacewarp muttered. "You've still got some scrap in your mouth."
"I'm providing them shelter!" Demus exclaimed.
"By selling them to organics who treat them like playthings." Spacewarp regarded Demus with complete and utter disgust. "Honestly, I don't know how you ended up with Deathsaurus in the first place. He more than anyone would know what oppression is like."
Demus shook his head. "This is different. This is prevention of extinction."
"If you can't prevent your own, what makes you think you can prevent others'?"
The confused look on Demus' face was the last thing Spacewarp saw on it before it was blasted to smithereens by her gun. As the Monoformer's body fell to the floor, Spacewarp directed her attention to Foldspace, who was still sifting through Demus' databanks in search of the pass codes needed to open the Mini-Cons' cells.
"Still nothing?" she asked.
"9248102611," Foldspace replied.
Spacewarp blinked in confusion only to see a green light go off as the cell doors were opened up above, releasing hundreds of Mini-Cons.
"Huh. That was easier than I thought it would be." She looked back to Foldspace, who was still standing at the console. "What are you doing there then?"
"This guy's logs are very insightful," the old Mini-Con replied. "When did Demus resign, again?"
Spacewarp shrugged. "Dunno. It was years ago. Not long after the Cataclysm, I think."
"Interesting. Because I'm seeing conversations with some guy called the 'Grand Architect' dating as far back as Cycle 8314."
"What?" Spacewarp stormed over to where her partner was, crouching down to read the screen. "That would've been during the Mini-Con Massacres back on Cybertron. Has he been in cahoots over you guys for that long?"
"I'm not seeing anything regarding that specifically," Foldspace said, scrolling through the various conversation logs. "But they sure did talk a lot...."
Spacewarp pointed at the screen. "What does that one's date read? Cycle 9808?"
"Your optics are better than mine, kid. It all blurs together for me after a minute."
"That was seven years ago. Whoever this Grand Architect fellow is has been working for a long time and is probably still active... but who in the blazes are they?"
Foldspace smirked. "Gee, if only Demus was still around to tell us."
"Shut up," Spacewarp growled. "Just download the info so we can look at it later. Right now we need to find a way to get all these Mini-Cons to Cybertron."
"That might be a bit easier than you'd think," Foldspace murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"A ship's just entered orbit. Autobot signature but, ah...." The Mini-Con adjusted his visor. "The visual I'm getting of it has a very crude Decepticon logo painted on it."
At this, Spacewarp gripped the edge of what had been Demus' desk. "It had better not be who I think it is...."
"And yes, I do believe that is Vice Admiral Spinister dancing with a--"
Foldspace cried out as both he and the desk were sent flying by an irate Spacewarp.
--The Alchemor--
"Come on, Demus. Don't act like this."
Krok stood with his arms crossed as he waited for his call to be answered. Fulcrum sat nearby, trying all he could to ignore the very intense game of Shoot Shoot Bang Bang that Crankcase and Misfire were hosting.
"Are you sure he's even on this planet?" the K-Con asked. "It's a pretty remote place to set up shop on."
"It keep him far away from prying eyes," Krok replied. "When you're running a scrapyard, that's your safest option because you have no idea what's going to wind up in your hands."
"You think he might have something we can use?"
"It's always a possibility. Besides, it doesn't hurt to have connections when you're trying to build a small community of Decepticons."
Fulcrum raised an optic ridge. "You really think he'd join?"
"I have no idea. I haven't spoken to him in ages; spark knows where his loyalties lie these days." Krok clicked the object he constantly held in his hand... and his optics went wide. "That's odd."
"What is?"
"I was picking up three Decepticon signatures just a minute ago. Now there's just two."
"Bad customer relations, you think?"
"That..." Krok stared at the blank viewscreen, still waiting for something to appear on it. "Or someone got fed up with his service."
A few tense minutes passed. Finally, an image appeared on the screen... and it was most certainly not Demus who had answered them.
"Krok!" Spacewarp roared, red optics flaring in anger. "What in Mortilus' name are you doing here?!"
All went quiet on the bridge. Misfire and the others had all stopped their game to see what the commotion was. Krok remained calm, carefully regarding his former comrade.
"Would you believe me if I told you that none of us had any idea you were here?"
"Oh, so you were coming to buy Mini-Cons off Demus, eh? Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that won't be happening anytime soon."
"Mini-Cons?" Fulcrum frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't be coy with me, K-Con," Spacewarp said darkly. "Why else would you come all the way out to Tebris VII? To buy scrap?"
"Uh, Krok?" Crankcase tapped the Scavenger leader on the shoulder.
Krok growled as he shrugged the Triggercon off. "I'm a bit busy, Crankcase."
"I was just going to say that you're beeping."
Krok blinked in confusion as he glanced down at his clenched fist. At the same time, Spacewarp's optics went wide as she shifted her gaze to something off-screen.
"Deathsaurus is getting in on the fun as well? And here I thought he had standards...."
"Krok!" Spinister's voice exploded through the comm. "A giant planet's chasing us!"
The leader of the Scavengers sighed as he fell into his seat, rubbing his helm. Just another day in the life....
PRIMACY
Part 2: The Seething Moon
No comments:
Post a Comment