CHAPTER NINE
--Mars--
"If this is how you treat your guests, I'd hate to see how you treat unwanted solicitors."
Sandstorm wasn't expecting any kind of answer from the shadowed figure, so he wasn't disappointed when all he got was silence. Megaplex and Megastorm stood to either side of him while Archforce adjusted the constraints keeping him bolted to the operating table. Once he was done, the purple clone stepped over to the silhouetted figure.
"Everything is ready, Mother. Shall we begin--"
"Quiet," came the sharp response. "We have other visitors."
"Yeah, those'd be my guys," Sandstorm said. "I can't think of anyone else who'd want to rescue me."
Archforce turned to glare at the other two clones. "You told me they died in the crash."
"I said they must have!" Megaplex protested. "I don't see how they could've. That's why we used the Transwarp device to--"
"Enough," said Mother, causing Megaplex to immediately shut up. "The damage is already done. They have already found their way in."
"Allow us to correct our mistake, Mother," pleaded Megastorm. "We shall deal with the intruders."
"If you think you can fall back into my good graces, then do as you see fit." Mother was nonchalant in her response, as if she was more interested in something other than what was happening. "Archforce, would you be so kind as to join them?"
Archforce moved with a start. "Come again?"
"If only to ensure that they are properly dealt with."
"But... surely you would prefer me here?"
"Oh, I'll be fine, dear. Our guest won't be going anywhere."
Archforce looked doubtful, and the other two clones seemed disgruntled with this addendum. Nonetheless, the three complied with their superior's wishes and Sandstorm was soon left alone with the mysterious individual who called herself "Mother." He saw a figure move in the shadows but still could not make out any physical details.
"Children can be so frustrating sometimes."
"I wouldn't know," Sandstorm grunted. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."
There was silence for a moment before Mother spoke again. "Do you know who I am?"
"Deductive reasoning leads me to think you're 'Mother.'"
"Yes, but I don't think that name has much meaning to you. What about Hydra? Does that name ring any bells?"
Sandstorm glared at his infuriatingly vague host. "Is there a point you're trying to make?"
"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Mother replied. "Just as well. She hasn't been very responsive lately."
Sandstorm frowned in confusion only to let out a startled yell as a light switched on above him, illuminating the form of a lifeless mechanoid dangling from the ceiling on a harness of cables.
"The poor dear," continued Mother, whom Sandstorm could now see in better detail. She had a blocky build for a femme, with red and black armor plating. "She simply couldn't stand to continue an operation that had lost its way long before she realized it. To watch everything you had built come undone... it would shatter even the strongest of sparks."
"Who the Pit are you?" Sandstorm asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.
"My name is Plasma. I am the caretaker of this vicinity."
"And those clones call you 'Mother?'"
Plasma smiled thinly. "Only because they don't know better. They aren't aware of poor Hydra up there, dangling like a forgotten ornament. They think I'm her."
"And you haven't tried to tell them otherwise?"
Plasma shrugged. "Why should I? They listen to me. They look up to me. I've never had that before. It's a nice change of pace."
Sandstorm realized that talking to this bot would only raise more questions than answers. Still, he pressed on. "So what's your game here? Continuing where someone else left off?"
"In a sense," Plasma said quietly. "I've never really had much of a role in Hydra's little Secret Order; I was brought on by an old acquaintance of mine who required use of the Titan I was steward of. From that point onward, I was merely an observer, never an active participant. Before long, Hydra's operation failed and this..." Her gesture encapsulated the entire room. "...is all that's left.
"But I'm not continuing what Hydra herself had begun. Why would I continue something that had failed? No, what I'm doing is nothing of the sort. Archforce and the clones... they are but mere assets that I was able to obtain the use of."
Sandstorm scowled. "Then what are you doing? Or have you reached the limit of your exposition drop?"
Plasma smiled, not unkindly. "You know of the Primes, yes? The first Thirteen?"
Sandstorm's expression darkened. "I'm... familiar with them."
"As am I. Long ago, in a time before any of you were forged, I was subservient to them as were most of my kind. We helped them expand their empires and build their colonies. Without us, they would not have been half as great as the legends make them out to be."
"Hate to wound your ego, but I don't think folks think highly of the Thirteen these days...."
"I am aware," Plasma replied. "As are many of my brothers and sisters. Which is why we're here."
Sandstorm raised an optic ridge. "What for?"
"To expose the Primes for what they truly were: a corrupt dynasty of tyrants and despots. To dismantle their legacy. To finally usher an age of peace that Cybertron has never known. And it never will, so long as this Rodimus Prime remains in command."
"Ah, there it is." Sandstorm rolled his optics. "I was starting to think -- even hope -- that you were an evil mastermind who didn't hate Autobots. But you just proved me wrong."
Plasma smiled again at him. It was starting to make him uncomfortable. "And you just proved to me that your mind is not worth replicating in the cloning process, which saves me a lot of effort."
"Wait, cloning process?!" Sandstorm thrashed against his restraints. "What are you--"
There was a loud crash outside the room, followed by the sound of gunfire. Plasma did not seem to be bothered by this even when what sounded like a door fell down with a metal clang, allowing light to pour into the room.
"Hands where I can see them," growled Impactor as he and the other Wreckers barged in. Megastorm and Megaplex laid offline on the floor while Impactor had Archforce in a choke-hold, harpoon pointed at his head.
"Do you really think I'm threatened by you?" Plasma asked calmly.
"You should be, if you have any idea who we are."
"You are the Wreckers, I take it. I have heard of you, but have never witnessed you in action before."
"Tell us where Toxitron is and you won't have to," said Punch.
Plasma tilted her head. "You mean Battle Convoy? That was his name, I believe, before we remade him. I would've thought you'd have made the effort to restore him by now."
"Answer the blasted question and then you can lecture us," Impactor snarled, moving his harpoon closer to Archforce's head. "Or else you can say goodbye to your precious children."
"How heartless of you," Plasma stated with severe distaste in her tone. "Though I suppose I should expect nothing less from someone like you, Impactor."
Impactor glared at her. "How do you know anything about me?"
"She knows everything I've told her about you, old friend."
Impactor's body stiffened. The reply had not come from Plasma or anyone else in the room, but it was definitely a voice that he and most everyone else recognized. Sandstorm didn't even need to crane his head to see that Impactor and Punch shared his flabbergasted expression.
"Prowl?" the Wrecker leader murmured in shock.
"Put down the clone," Prowl ordered, his voice seeming to come from all around the room. "All of you need to listen very closely to what I have to say if you want to save the universe."
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