Airazor’s fingers slipped over the engraved text, following the words across the plaque.

“To Sky Lynx, a hero of Cybertron,” it read. The following paragraph was about his valor, when, on the ascribed date, the Sky Lynx in question dispatched an entire squadron of Seekers single-handedly. He had done many other great things, it continued, and the whole of Cybertron wept when he disappeared. That was a lie, or at least an oversight on the part of the monument’s writer. Airazor was certain that she did not cry.

Above the plaque was the statue, which was several times taller than herself- but smaller, she knew, than he was in person. Sky Lynx had been huge of body and personality. He was a laughing, boisterous, jolly mech. He was a thinker and a poet and a warrior, and he was eternally absent. To Airazor, he had been missing in action for much longer than anyone else claimed he had. The only difference between her life after the official declaration and before was that she no longer had a single guilt-present to look forward to every stellar cycle. The only thing that had brought her to the statue on this particular day had been a subtle suggestion from her less-noteworthy protoform batch initiator. There was not much to be gained from defying her mother, so Airazor agreed to pay the monument a visit.

After a few cycles, Airazor decided that there was truly nothing to be gained from standing idly in front of the statue, and prepared to leave. There were things for her to do, after all- she needed to follow up on her application to the N2 Bureau, and she really wanted to vent to Split-S about how unfair her mother was being- that would certainly make up for the time she had wasted.

***

His footsteps were carefully calculated- too fast, and onlookers might suspect he was in a hurry. Too slow, and he would not reach his goal in time. The rain he would have counted as providence- it was an excuse to obscure his face with his cloak- but in Helex it was always pouring. Thus he marched onward, shrouded and cold, smartsteel plastered to his shoulders, into the yellow light of the harbor district. His eyes carefully swept back and forth across his path, seeking out any potential spies hidden in the spaceport’s rabble. Looking backwards was not an option, it would be too obvious. In addition to maintaining his cover and searching for spies, he was also counting off the dock numbers, which gradually rose as he advanced further.

He halted as he reached the dock indicated as 83R- at last, he had arrived. A vast, black expanse of metal rose out of the moorings, surrounded by supply ramps and empty scaffolds. The ship was ancient, built for the Destrons of yore, whose gigantic bodies required larger ships. This meant that for the modern Cybertronian, there was an abundance of storage. A Destron destroyer was roughly the same size as a modern battleship, and this was a Destron cruiser- there would be no shortage of space on board. This was emphasized by the gargantuan hauler that nearly flattened him as it barreled up one of the supply ramps, its bed filled with ammunition canisters. He carefully followed the walkways along the side of the vessel, until he found an oversized security hatch open. Pulling his cloak down tighter, he stepped inside. The corridor was narrow by Destron standards, but comfortable for him- until a mech swept out from behind a bulkhead and lowered an arm-mounted cannon towards him.

“This is not the welcome I expected,” he mused.

“This welcome might become much harsher,” sneered the armed bot, “if you answer my question incorrectly. Under what sign is the orbital cycle?”

He knew perfectly well that the current O-cycle was Adaptus. “Solus,” he replied.

“The lady of freedom herself,” replied his assailant, lowering his weapon. “You are a fellow Decepticon.”

“I suppose one could say that,” he chuckled, undoing his cloak’s clasps. The smartsteel unlocked itself from his body, and was pulled away in a waterlogged clump. Upon seeing his face clearly, the armed mech’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You- you’re… Megatron,” he whispered. “I-I’m so sorry, comrade Megatron- I did not recognize you! I have no doubts of your loyalty to the cause, I assure you! Please, allow me to-“

“There is no need for that,” Megatron assured him. “I was obscuring my identity, was I not? All you have done is proven that an N2 Rainshield is a large garment.”

“O-of course, comrade Megatron,” mumbled the other Decepticon.

“I assume you have a role in this mission other than holding your leaders at gunpoint and stuttering?”

Briefly, contempt twisted the younger bot’s face, before being replaced by the stately manner of an officer. “I am to be this vessel’s first mate. Commander of the Decepticon First Air Wing, Starscream.”

“Ah, one of Shockwave’s Seekers,” mused Megatron, resuming his march down the hallway. Starscream followed a few paces behind at first, until Megatron waved him on to take the lead. “And the First Air Wing was the unit that intercepted the Xantium?” asked Starscream’s new leader, maintaining a more leisurely pace than the Seeker would have preferred.

“That is correct, comrade Megatron.”

“So, Air Commander- what noble comrades have joined us on our quest?”

“More than was expected, comrade Megatron. We have a team of engineers, a mercenary unit, a squadron of Seekers- hand-picked by me, of course- a few scientists, and about fifty soldiers, ready to lay down their lives for the Decepticon cause.”

“That will suffice for the moment… but it is not nearly enough. We should make preparations before landfall for the construction of a space bridge.”

“Comrade Megatron- are you suggesting that the forces that have been supplied are not-“

“Let me make this clear,” growled Megatron. “You are a soldier. I am a leader. The Decepticons that have joined us might be the most capable minds and most robust warriors of their generation, but you cannot conquer a world- let alone, an inhabited one, with an exploration party."

Starscream made sure to make his sigh sound disappointed and not exasperated. “I see your point. We will have to make arrangements in advance with the engineers, and even then I am not sure we have all of the parts we might need for such a project. And that will require another ship. We are already at risk launching from here in Helex, under Shockwave’s all-seeing eye.”

The Seeker heard the steps of his new leader halt behind him.

“I am certain Shockwave is not offended by this venture at all. If he were, we would all be dead by now. And yet, we still live. Deep in his spark, I am certain he knows that I am carrying forward the true will of the Decepticon cause.”

“Of course you are, comrade Megatron. Shockwave’s complacency toward our Autobot oppressors will be the death of freedom on Cybertron. But if he is determined to keep his poisoned peace, would it not be prudent of him to… interrupt our venture?”

“If you’re so concerned that we may be attacked, why aren’t you calling the crew to battle stations?”

Starscream’s optics widened, and for a moment, he seemed to be at a loss for words. He found them back quickly, and clicked his heels together as he snapped into a salute.

“An oversight, comrade Megatron! I’ll sound the alarm right away!”

The Air Commander transformed, his jets igniting just in time to sweep him away from the unforgiving metal deck below. Megatron watched the glowing afterburners race down the long corridor ahead, before disappearing around another set of bulkheads.

I must keep a tight rein on these soldiers. This journey cannot end in failure.

***

The vast cityscape of Iacon stretched into the distance past the window, its lights gleaming against the golden evening sky. Even though its streets were wide and clean, the city was not without its filth. Optimus Prime knew this well, for he had spent the greater part of the day being assaulted by it. The corruption in the city was omnipresent- every district councilor had their hands in the pockets of some gangster or corporation. He had thought that a position of power like the one he held would make it easier to help the people of Cybertron- instead, it only made it easier to see how they were being hurt. He took a slow sip from his glass of Energon, as he continued his vigil over the city that was under his care.

To think that 53% of the population would rather see me exiled than command the Autobots…

The door to the flat opened behind him, and a small, yellow mech stumbled through, and collapsed on the floor.

“Bumblebee,” gasped Prime, rushing to his friend’s side. He offered his glass of Energon to the weary bot, who accepted it gladly.

“I wore myself out double-timing it from Helex,” said Bumblebee, having finished the glass. “I needed to talk to you first.”

“Before the Security Council?”

Bumblebee nodded. “That starship, the Destron one- Megatron’s involved.”

Optimus Prime helped the spy into a chair. “Megatron? Are you certain?”

“There’s no doubt. And if he’s on the ship, we know where it’s headed.”

“To the planet described in Glyph’s texts… the second Cybertron.”

“If her theories are correct, there’s some sort of artifact there.”

“An artifact we cannot allow him to find,” said Optimus Prime. “I will gather the inner circle.”

***

“Let me get this straight,” sighed the mech, his brow cradled in an open hand. “You want to abandon your post here in Iacon to chase Megatron to an unknown world in hopes of finding an artifact described in the theories of a crackpot archaeometrist?”

“Correct on all accounts, barring Glyph being a ‘crackpot’,” grunted Optimus. “Her work has been consistently supported by other leading archaeometrists.”

“But, Optimus, you can’t really take her seriously, can you?”

“Prowl, do people take you seriously?”

“Shots fired,” bellowed the large red bot seated across from them.

“Oh, shut it, you primitive,” spat Prowl, rising from his seat. “My authority is respected in every Autobot sector,” he replied to Optimus. “Though I assume if I went gallivanting about with half of my plating missing, as Glyph does, I could guarantee that no one would take me seriously.”

“Because data-crunching behind a cushy desk doesn’t work wonders for your servos,” cackled the red mech, louder than before.

“You senile old rustbucket, you,” Prowl fumed. “Why do you keep him around?”

“Ironhide has fought for Cybertron longer than any of us- and his wisdom has saved both you and I in the past, Prowl. He is among my dearest friends, and while his demeanor can be coarse at times, his words are chosen carefully. It seems you have completely disregarded Glyph’s body of work simply because of the way she chooses to dress.”

“Well, yes,” admitted Prowl. “It’s not professional.”

“Everything’s got to be professional for you, don’t it?” groaned Jazz, propped against the wall.

“Yes it does. That is how order, and thus, efficiency, is maintained.”

“If we continue to debate ideologies, we will accomplish nothing,” warned Optimus. “Early long-range scans have proven that there is a planetary system in the coordinates. If nothing else, this is a chance to isolate and neutralize Megatron.”

“I think that’s something even straight-lace over there can stand behind,” laughed Ironhide.

“Losing Megatron would strike a severe blow to the Decepticon cause,” admitted Prowl.

“If you do not approve of this mission, you may remain here in my place, Prowl. Perhaps you can do my job better than I,” said Optimus.

“I may not have faith in your mission, but you are still my leader,” Prowl sighed. “If you shall go, I will do my best for Iacon in your absence. But you had better bring back Megatron’s severed head.”

“As long as I get to keep an arm,” snickered Ironhide.

“Then it’s decided. Prowl, you’ll keep an optic on Iacon. Bumblebee, contact Wheeljack- we’ll need a ship and weapons. Jazz, secure a supply of Energon for the mission. Ironhide… I need you to find us a team.”

“Will do, Prime. But everyone who survived ‘till now is probably enjoying the ceasefire.”

“Then you will find some new blood. Are everyone’s orders clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied his confidants.

“Then let’s roll out.”