TEN: TO ASHES WE TRANSFORM
The Nemesis
“All hail Megatron! All hail Megatron!”
The chants of the assembled Decepticons echoed all throughout the bridge, carrying the same level of enthusiasm that was typically only held by the likes of Lugnut. Even Astrotrain and those who had joined Starscream in his attempted mutiny joined in, cowed by what they heard of how Megatron had destroyed Lord Imperious (corroborated by Starscream himself). Starscream, for his part, did not join in the chanting but remained close to the front of the crowd, his arms folded as he watched everything and everyone closely.
Sitting in his command chair like it were a throne, Megatron basked in the glory of his victory. For the first time since embarking on his mission to reunite his scattered armies and settle the score with the Destructons, he felt fully in control of his empire—something which he had not felt in three years.
Of course, this victory was only the first step towards the ultimate end goal. There were still more than needed to be done… and he would waste no time in getting to them.
After allowing another few minutes full of chants to go by, he silently raised a hand and the entire bridge went silent. All eyes were on him now, waiting expectantly for him to speak.
“Today,” he began, “is a day that will forever go down in history. Today marks the full reunification of the Decepticon Empire and the final defeat of the Destructons, bringing an end to a campaign that should have ended long ago.”
Another round of cheers broke out. Once it had settled down, Megatron continued. “But the work has only just begun. The Destructons were just one of only many obstacles that stand in our way towards complete and utter victory. The Autobots remain an ever-present nuisance, and the organic world they so desperately try to protect now carries within it the soul of our foretold destroyed: the Chaos Bringer himself, Unicron.”
“Traitors to our race!” Lugnut bellowed, and several others echoed him.
Megatron smirked. “Indeed. Now, I have heard whispers that Primus himself walks among them and perhaps even wears the Autobot badge. But those same whispers claim that our species were created by the organic mercantile race known as the Quintessons.”
More than a few Decepticons jeered at the idea and made sounds of disgust.
“I shouldn’t need to tell you, of course, that you are being deceived. The Autobots are desperately trying to change the narrative in order to hold onto what little power they have. But we know the truth. Decepticons we may be, but I speak only the truth now. Those who dwell now on the planet they call Earth have forever been infected by the evil of the Chaos Bringer. They stand for the eradication of our race, just as the Destructons had.
“But we will not let them succeed. No longer shall we allow the Autobots to fool us into a false peace. Their order shall fall. Earth will be destroyed, and with it the dark god that inhabits it. And Cybertron shall be ours!”
The bridge erupted in uproar once more, dozens of voices cheering and chanting his name. It took several minutes for them to settle down again, and only then did Megatron resume speaking.
“But before we begin… there is one more thing I must address, just so that all of our affairs are in order. Air Commander Starscream, would you step forward?”
A hushed silence descended upon the crowd as all eyes turned now to the gray, red and blue Seeker. Starscream shifted uncomfortably before wordlessly stepping to the forefront. He kept his head tilted forward slightly in reverence, although whether it was genuine or not was impossible to tell. Not that it mattered.
“I am yours to command, Lord Megatron,” Starscream started to say.
“Spare me.” Megatron rose abruptly from his seat, his mighty form casting a shadow over the Seeker. “Do not think for an instant that you have been absolved for your transgressions.”
Starscream snapped his head up to him, fear and defiance fighting for dominance on his face. “My liege, I fully acknowledge the error I have made. I was wrong to presume you to be unfit for leadership; you more than proved yourself in getting rid of the Destructons. I hereby pledge myself to—”
“Your pledges mean nothing,” Megatron snarled. “How long before you perceive another misstep? Or before you become plagued with more delusions of grandeur? Will you remain loyal to me then, or engineer another mutiny?”
Starscream started to back away, attempting to retreat into the crowd. He bumped into Astrotrain, who merely shoved him back towards Megatron.
“Please,” the Seeker stammered pathetically. “Everything I did was for the benefit of the Decepticon Empire. I want the same things you do! I—”
“That you do,” Megatron replied. “Which is why I cannot afford to have you around any longer.”
Starscream gaped at him as he raised his fusion cannon. Behind him, the crowd of Decepticons slowly began to part, as if to anticipating what was to come.
“An example must be made, Starscream,” the Decepticon leader intoned. “That is the burden all great leaders must carry.”
Starscream’s pleas and protests were drowned out by the sound of the fusion cannon discharging. The blast of energy punctured straight through his chest and knocked him off his feet. His body hit the deck with a loud clang, slid on its back for a few feet, then went still. All present watched as the red and blue colors of his armor plating slowly faded into black and white hues. The lights behind his optics flickered before extinguishing, leaving only black windows into an empty shell of a machine.
The assorted Decepticons stared at his lifeless body for a moment before slowly turning back to face Megatron. The Decepticon leader retook his seat, a content expression on his face.
“See to it that his remains are disposed of properly. I no longer want his presence sullying this ship.” He then turned his gaze to Flatline, who stood among the crowd. “Once we have reached New Kaon, I want you to get to work on restoring Trypticon to full operational status. You may need to create a new… conduit since we’ve lost Full-Tilt.” A dark smile touched his lips. “I believe the one who calls himself Megastorm will do. I do not need any more imitators on this ship, physical or otherwise, but he is loyal enough to still be of some use.”
Flatline bowed his head. “Your will shall be fulfilled, Lord Megatron.”
“See to it that is. A new age is upon us, my fellow Decepticons. Once the Autobots have been wiped out, Cybertron will again experience a golden age… and the rest of the universe shall quake in fear of my power!”
This time, he did nothing to silence the cheers and chants that shook the bridge. After so many years of stagnation and defeats, he felt that they had earned themselves this moment.
As he settled back into his throne, he looked upon his army as they showered him with praise and reverence. Where mere years ago he would have rejected or dismissed such expressions, now he welcomed it.
Besides, it was all he could focus on to ignore the fact that the apparition of Shockwave stood among them, watching him silently as the cheers went on and on…
* * *
It felt so strange to be back at the bottom again.
Were anyone to look at him, it was as if the past several hours hadn’t even happened. He thought that him being an unwitting participant to Starscream’s short little rebellion would have resulted in punishment, yet no one had come to deliver it. He thought that maybe him assisting Megatron in fighting the Destructons would have resulted in some sort of promotion, yet no one had come to extend such an offer.
Instead, Krok was back where he had started: working sanitation duties aboard the Nemesis.
Perhaps it was the best outcome. Had he been promoted, he would have had to compete with others vying for Megatron’s favor, and that was simply not anything he had any patience for.
At the very least, Nickel had offered to visit him more frequently whenever she could, if only to give him some company. And if he was being honest, that was more than he could have ever asked for.
As he approached the Nemesis’ garbage disposal unit and prepared to open it, Krok heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned around and was briefly taken aback by the sight of Spinister. The tall purple and blue Decepticon towered over him, carrying some black and gray husk over his shoulder. Krok was about to say something to his former comrade but stopped himself, remembering what Nickel had told him.
They might as well be newborn bots.
Letting out a sigh, Krok said, “Can I help you?”
Spinister grunted as he unceremoniously dropped the weight he had been carrying. Krok nearly jumped back in alarm as he saw that the husk was in fact a corpse. But it wasn’t just anyone’s corpse.
It was Starscream’s.
“Make sure there’s nothing left of him,” Spinister said, already turning to walk away. “Megatron doesn’t want him around anymore.”
Krok looked down at the Seeker’s lifeless body, and for once he couldn’t exactly fault his leader for feeling that way.
Not giving it any more mind, he opened the garbage disposal unit and, with all of his strength, lifted the husk up and over the opening. He waited until he heard it hit the bottom. Then, he got rid of the rest of the trash he had been assigned to take care of. Once he was done, he closed the unit and pressed the command panel. He then propped himself against the wall, folding his arms as he began whistling a small tune to himself, waiting for the work to be done.
* * *
“You still have no idea where we are?”
“Give me a minute, will ya’?” Foldspace snapped. “I’m still trying to triangulate our position!”
“It’s been seven hours!” Spacewarp cried out, her voice echoing throughout the desolate sea of sand that surrounded her. In the sky above, night was turning into day as a pair of suns began to ascend from over the horizon. And in all of that time, it felt as if she and her Mini-Con companions—which now only consisted of Foldspace and the three she had picked up on Combatron—hadn’t made any progress in journey.
“Yeah, well, these stars don’t look like any I’ve seen before. Their arrangement don’t match anything in my stellar database.”
“Then we’ll have to go into orbit to see if we can warp to somewhere more familiar.” Spacewarp winced as she rotated her injured arm. By this point, the armor plating had completely dissolved, leaving only a skeletal frame. “Hopefully I can still transform in this condition….”
“Even if you can, we can’t warp anywhere. We’ve lost the—”
“I know!” Spacewarp sighed in defeat. “I know.” She dropped herself to the ground, not even caring about the coarse sand getting into the cracks in her armor. “I’m sorry, Foldspace, I just… I’ve never felt this lost before. Normally I’d be excited by an unknown planet like this, but after what just happened, I… I just feel defeated.”
Climbing over shoulder, the green Mini-Con known as Grip-Lock pointed up towards the sky. “Well, it looks like Skysickle and Thunderstick are back from their recon. Took ‘em long enough…”
Spacewarp looked up as the two Mini-Con fliers came down from the brightening sky, having been sent out to explore ahead five or so hours ago. They transformed and landed at her feet, both of them wearing concerned looks on their faces.
“Well?” she said expectantly. “What did you boys find?”
Skysickle released a string of binary, which Thunderstick translated. “Looks like there’s a spaceport of some kind about fifty hics from here. This planet is definitely inhabited, with all kinds of species. Can’t say I recognize any… but then again, we haven’t really gotten out much in the last several centuries….”
“That’s fine. Did you at least capture any visuals on the spaceport? Just to give me an idea of what we have to work with?”
“Oh, yeah.” Thunderstick slapped his maroon partner on the back. “Show her, ‘sickle.”
Skysickle obliged and projected a holographic image of the spaceport from his optics. Spacewarp watched it closely as the Mini-Con zoomed in on the image, showing her as much detail as he had been able to capture without getting sighted. There were definitely a lot of organics, and even some machines that were about Mini-Con sized or smaller, although they appeared to be not as independent as Cybertronians were. But what really caught her attention was the appearance of a certain kind of organic species… a kind that appeared to be plentiful on this planet.
“That’s weird,” she murmured. “Those look like humans.”
“What’s a human?” asked Grip-Lock.
“An organic species from a little planet called Earth. The Autobots are friendly with them.” Spacewarp tapped her chin. “Problem is that… I don’t think the humans are capable of interstellar travel yet. I mean, they’ve been to their moon, but they haven’t gotten to the point of setting foot on other planets in their solar system, let alone other star systems.”
“Well, maybe they’re not humans,” Foldspace suggested. “They could be Femaxians.”
“Nope. Too small to be Femaxians. And not as barbaric-looking.”
“Well, remember that one guy who shrunk you down to Mini-Con size? He had like a time machine or something? Maybe they’re members of his species.”
“I don’t think so, old timer. I’m pretty sure they’re just plain ol' humans. Sometimes the simplest answer is the most—”
Before she could finish, a blast of electricity struck her in the back. Her joints instantly seized up as she lurched forward and fell face-first into the ground. Foldspace and the other Mini-Cons scattered as a sleek, silver-plated figure came down from the sky, landing on top of Spacewarp’s back. In one arm he carried a blaster rifle of some kind, which he pointed at the back of her head, while in the other he held a pistol which he trained on Foldspace and the other Mini-Cons.
“No sudden movements,” the mechanical being intoned. His face was fully covered by a mask that was almost featureless save for a t-shaped black visor that broke up the chrome of his helm. “I can either bring you in warm… or I can bring you in cold.”
Spacewarp winced from the pressure of her assailant’s foot. “Do as he says, guys,” she muttered. “I’m starting to get the impression we’re far away from anything we can consider home. Far, far away….”
* * *
In a more familiar galaxy, Nemesis Prime stood in the center chamber of the Winged Moon. Around him, the mercenaries from Doubledealer’s crew got to work at the various work stations, trying to figure out how to operate the mobile satellite. Amidst them was Termagax, still trapped within her shield after one of the mercenaries had managed to hack into the systems to prevent it from lowering it, making her a prisoner now.
But Termagax didn’t act like a prisoner. In fact, she seemed rather pleased by her current predicament.
“You are him, aren’t you?” she spoke up at last, having studied Nemesis and his crew in silence for the past several hours. “You are the Arisen.”
“I already told you who I am,” Nemesis replied, not turning to look at her. “My name is Nemesis Prime.”
“Yes, but as a Prime you must be aware of the Thirteen; the ones whose legacy you carry. It has long been foretold that the thirteenth of the Primes—he who would arise from the ashes of his predecessors—would return to Cybertron and lead it to a new golden age. All surviving records of his physical appearance describe a figure much like yourself.”
Nemesis Prime slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder at her, his red optics flashing briefly. “You’ve been out of the loop for a long time, haven’t you? Your so-called ‘Arisen’ has already shown himself, and is nothing more than an ordinary ‘bot. None of the Thirteen were the deities that people like you professed them to be.”
Termagax shrugged. “Perhaps you are correct. Indeed, I have been away for some time. I didn’t even know who the current Prime was until today; when I left Cybertron, the pretender Zeta Prime had claimed the title. But, please, tell me something.”
“If it’ll get you to shut up, sure.”
“The explorer… the one you just sent away… she had mentioned Optimus Prime.” Termagax stepped up to the shield, her face mere inches away from it. “That was the name Sentinel and I had selected for my former student’s ward. He was built in the spitting image of the Arisen, despite coming from a cold construction facility. My student saw this as a sign from Primus, as did Sentinel Prime and myself. We thought for sure he would become the Prime we needed to unify Cybertron and bring our society into an age of prosperity. So tell me… did he succeed?”
For a long time, Nemesis Prime simply stared at her, his face betraying none of his thoughts. When he did finally speak, his tone was low, quiet enough so that only Termagax could hear him.
“No. He hasn’t. In the near millennium that has passed, he has accomplished nothing of the sort.” He then tilted his head, a wicked gleam in his scarlet optics. “But not to worry, for you are correct about one thing… from a certain point of view. I may not be the Arisen mentioned in the legends, but I am… connected to Optimus Prime. I would not exist were it not for him. But in every place Optimus Prime failed, I plan on succeeding.” He lifted up the Transwarp Blaster in his hands. “This is only just one piece to the puzzle of that future success. There are two others that need to be found, at which point I will be ready to set things in motion.”
Termagax raised an optic ridge with intrigue, a small smile coming upon her face. “You speak in riddles. I think I like you already, regardless of who—or what—you are.”
Nemesis Prime chuckled. “Then perhaps this is the beginning of a long and fruitful alliance.”
He made a gesture to one of the mercenaries, who then pressed a command at their work station. The shield around Termagax and her platform dissolved, allowing her to step down and stand in front of the dark Prime. He extended a hand to her and she took it, giving it a firm shake.
“Now then,” Nemesis said. “Are you ready to make history?”
“As opposed to being a part of it?” Termagax grinned—her first true smile in nearly a thousand years. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
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