Legacy

Copyright 1995, Robert A. Jung
Originally published February 27, 1995

Note: This story takes place after the end of the American animated series, especially the episode "Rebirth." It also helps if you read my earlier fanfic story, "Cause of Madness," as this takes place immediately after it.

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All characters depicted or mentioned in this story are the trademarks and/or copyrights of their respective holders, except for those that aren't. Any resemblance to actual people, alive or deceased, is coincidental, etc., etc. Geez, it's just a story, guys. Don't get too uptight over it...

Megatron stepped into "his" room with a feeling of revulsion. Technically, they belonged to Galvatron, but the latter's recent demise meant that Megatron now possessed his command, his troops -- and his oversized, ramshackled quarters. The relationship more than just one of inheritance; since Galvatron was originally created from Megatron's shattered form, formally they were the same person.

Am I guilty of suicide, then? Megatron mused idly. Any other person might have been disturbed at the idea of killing their own doppelanger, but not Megatron. He was too practical for such metaphysical discussions to bother him. All that mattered was the here and now: that he had been resurrected and that he had resumed command of the Decepticons.

Megatron brushed a pile of debris off a counter, then sat down and activated the computer terminal on it. He had just spent several hours among his troops, rallying them and raising their morale. Now he needed to be alone, in order to assess what had happened during his "absence" and plan accordingly.

His return was better than he had expected; the Decepticons accepted him with unbridled enthusiasm. Even Scorponok, recently binary-bonded to an ambitious alien named Lord Zarak, surprised him by declining to challenge his authority. It was clear that Galvatron was an incompetent madman who ruled only through the sheer power he had wielded. In contrast, Megatron was a leader with a proven record, as the Decepticons remembered who had led them when all of Cybertron was theirs.

At least, until the planet-eater Unicron arrived. Megatron scowled as he peered at the Decepticon roster that appeared before him. Between Unicron's attack on Cybertron, Megatron's disappearance, and Galvatron's own ineptitude, an army which once numbered in the millions was now reduced to a rabble of several hundred. With their meager supplies and a decrepit base on the planet Charr, they were a pitiful group indeed.

This was in complete contrast to the Autobots' situation. What was once a dying resistance when Megatron "disappeared" was now a thriving force. With most Decepticons killed and the rest scattered after Unicron's assault, the Autobots had retaken Cybertron with a minimum of effort. With Galvatron's so-called leadership, the Decepticons were pressed to stay alive, much less fight the Autobots. And now the planet was in its second Golden Age, recharged with enough energy for thousands of years.

For such power and potential to be wasted on a group of pacifistic Autobots was against everything Megatron believed in. To him, the Transformers were clearly a superior species who should be conquering the galaxy, and Cybertron the unstoppable fortress from which they would enforce their rule. Instead, the Autobots were starting diplomatic relations with other races such as the Nebulans, and helping their miserable human allies join the intergalactic community.

With a keypress, Megatron accessed the files on the Autobot ranks. His anger instantly latched on to the first name on the display: Optimus Prime.

"No!" His fist slammed hard on the counter. A lifetime ago, he had finally killed the Autobot leader in battle. The pride of that feat was the one joy left to him. But now, that too was gone; Prime was back, somehow resurrected like Megatron was, and undoubtedly leading the Autobots who kept his own troops running like whipped cowards.

Controlling his fury, Megatron read on. For a while, the Autobots were led by Rodimus Prime, an inexperienced commander who first appeared at the battle with Unicron. Megatron angrily cursed the Fates for keeping him away during that time -- he was certain that he could have exploited Rodimus' weaknesses to the Decepticons' gain. Galvatron's failure to do so reinforced Megatron's low opinion of his predecessor.

After skimming a few more entries, he stopped, unable to bear any more. It had taken the Decepticons millions of years to push the Autobots to the brink of extinction. Yet between Unicron and Galvatron, the Autobots had regained everything in less than three. The situation was now as it was eons ago, when the Decepticons were only a small cabal that dreamed of total conquest.

Megatron clenched his fist and growled quietly. I'll destroy the Autobots yet, even if it takes me another six million years to do it!

His body relaxed as he regained control. Now was not the time to rant; the immediate problems of the Decepticons had to be corrected. Foremost among them was their meager numbers -- there was absolutely no way he could conquer Cybertron with only a few hundred warriors. And unlike before, there were no neutral Transformers he could recruit to his cause. No, any new Decepticons would have to come from somewhere else.

Inspiration struck. Recalling something he had read, Megatron quickly turned to the computer and worked with renewed energy...

Optimus Prime stared silently out of the bay windows of the conference hall. A passing spectator might have guessed that the Autobot leader was pondering some great new plan, and tiptoed past to avoid disturbing him.

In actuality, Prime was in reflection. Vague feelings of anxiety and doubt had bothered him of late, though he was usually too busy with his various duties to focus on them. Now, though, he had a few moments between meetings and reviews, and took the opportunity for some relaxing introspection.

The view outside was of Cybertron's sunless, perpetual night. The black sky was tinged a dark blue, lit by both the bronze hue of the planet's metallic surface and the shining lights of the surrounding city of Iacon. The lights of a roving groundcar or airship lent a touch of movement to the scene. From an aesthetic standpoint, it was a classic scene of a tranquil technological utopia.

I should be feeling peaceful, Prime thought. Yet I have nothing but fear. As if this will all disappear in a moment.

He tried to remember the last time he had seen the world at rest like this, and realized that it was, literally, millions of years ago. He was not concerned about age; Transformers were practically immortal, and died only through accident or murder. Instead, Prime realized that most of his memories of Cybertron were related to war in all its myriad ways. Perhaps that is what bothers me. Perhaps I cannot accept this tranquillity because of my past experiences.

The Decepticons did not appear to be a problem. Galvatron and his forces were last seen fleeing after the incident with the Plasma Energy Chamber, a scheme which ended up recharging Cybertron's core. And while there were rumors that Galvatron was rescued, there had been absolutely no Decepticon activity since then. Though the Autobots could not spy on Charr directly, it was as if the Decepticons had simply given up their dreams of conquest and laid dormant.

Even if that is true, there are other dangers. Though dead, Unicron remained a vivid nightmare to all Transformers. Neither Autobot nor Decepticon, the planet-sized giant simply appeared out of nowhere one day with a mysterious determination to eradicate Cybertron and everyone on it. Only the prophetic use of the Autobot Matrix of Leadership had destroyed Unicron and saved them all.

But now the Matrix was empty, its power and knowledge released to eliminate a "hate plague" that had threated the universe. Without the Matrix, what can save Cybertron if another Unicron-like menace were to appear?

It seemed a very possible threat. For example, Unicron himself was supposedly created by an alien called Primacron. Though Primacron's laboratory was destroyed along with his latest creation, Toritron, Primacron remained free to do as he pleased. Then there were the Quintessons, a group of beings who claimed to be the creators of Cybertron and the Transformers race. Their various schemes to reclaim their wayward property were known to Autobot and Decepticon alike.

Yet both of these fronts refused to show any signs of danger. Autobot survey patrols continued to report that Primacron's latest works were low-key efforts that did not pose any threat. And the enigmatic Quintessons had not been seen nor heard from in a long time.

Are these problems that have finally been laid to rest? Or is this the calm before the storm? Prime fought the temptation to slip into paranoia, though strange omens seemed abundant. Unicron's head, which had orbited Cybertron after his destruction, exploded mysteriously a few weeks ago. Perceptor guessed it was either a delayed self-destruct or an asteroid collision, but now Prime wondered if it was part of something deeper.

A small chime came from outside of the chamber. It was time for another meeting, this one to discuss plans for the restoration of the Cybertronian Art and Culture Council. Prime ended his reverie and returned his thoughts to the present as the doors opened.

The unnamed planet was mostly feral. Choppy orange seas lapped at dense jungles filled with dangerous plants and animals of all sorts. The city of Quint was the only sign of civilization present. Electric fences and armed patrols kept the wilderness at bay, but no real effort was made to expand. One got the impression that the inhabitants had better things to do than taming the world.

In Quint, the most opulent, most prominent, and most important structure was the High Court. Twisting, bizarre spires of silver and gold stretched far into the sky, while oversized doors accommodated visits from unknown titans. Normally, the High Court was where the rulers of Quint passed final judgment on all matters.

Today it was a charnel house.

Megatron strode proudly into the Court chamber, silently savoring the chaotic sights and smells of conquest. A crude path had been cleared for him, flanked by the bodies of thousands of inert Sharkticons. Scattered among their smoking forms were various Quintesson officials and staff -- here a reptilian-faced Officer, there an armored Bailiff -- all as dead as the Sharkticons themselves.

With measured steps, Megatron slowly crossed the room. Against the far wall were three surviving Quintesson Magistrates. Their inverted egg-shaped forms bobbed lightly on force beams, their slender green tendrils waving in rampant fear. Occasionally one of the Magistrate would spin, looking at the carnage with another of its five mechanical faces. They were surrounded by Scourge and three of his Sweeps, who were ready to fire in an instant if one tried to attack or escape.

Megatron knew better. From his study of the Decepticon profiles on the Quintessons, he had correctly deduced that they were nothing but weak cowards, better suited for scheming than fighting. Why Galvatron had let them remain a nuisance for so long was yet another sign of his incompetence.

He stopped before the Quintessons and glowered down at them. The Magistrates quivered, unable to retreat and cowed into silence. Finally Megatron sneered, "You pathetic fools. Did you really think your miserable forces could stand against me?"

The rightmost Magistrate spun quickly, stopping with a click, then said, "The Sharkticons--"

"Silence!" Megatron's fusion cannon came up and flashed brilliantly. The Quintesson crashed against the wall, then fell dead in a smoldering heap, a large black hole between its eyes.

Megatron addressed the two survivors. "Your forces are finished! My Decepticons have already rounded up the remaining Judges and Magistrates. Even now my Predacons and Terrorcons are idly hunting the last Sharkticons for sport. If you wish to stay functional, you will show all the respect you can muster! Do you understand?"

The Magistrates spun to new faces, looked to each other, then turned to Megatron and bowed their bodies submissively.

"Better," Megatron growled.

The first one spoke, in a humbled hiss, "What will happen to us?"

Megatron smiled condescendingly, as if explaining the obvious. "You will all begin working immediately to build me a new army of Decepticon warriors."

There was a moment's silence. Then, with slow reluctance, the second said, "We cannot."

"What?" Megatron bellowed. "How dare you refuse?"

The first replied. "We do not refuse." Spin, click. "But only--"

The Magistrate stopped suddenly. Suspicious, Megatron leaned over, glaring deep into his soulless eyes, and growled, "Only what?"

"Don't!" the second cried.

"We must!"

"But you can't--!"

"We have no choice!"

There was a moment's pause. Then, "Yes. You're right."

Megatron fumed angrily as the first Quintesson spoke again. "We cannot do as you ask because only Justice has the secret of creating life."

"We can build the bodies," the second reluctantly explained, "but programming the personalities is something only she knows how to do."

Megatron frowned. "Who ... is Justice?"

Spin, click. "She is the guiding force of all Quintessons. She leads us in times of need."

From the left, Scourge remarked, "Great. Religious nuts."

Megatron ignored him. "Take me to her."

There was another hesitant pause, but the fury on Megatron's face allowed no room for dissention. So the two Quintessons led their Decepticon captors out of the chamber and down a spiraling ramp, deep into the bowels of the planet. They traveled for several minutes in silence, their way illuminated only by faint glow-rods along the walls. Finally, the party reached bottom. Without any ceremony, the seven passed through an unadorned arch into a dimly-lit room.

In the center was a small circular console covered with various keyboards, controls, and two-dimensional video monitors. Operating them was a small humanoid figure, barely four meters tall. The being's features consisted of a metallic head, silvery-gray in color, triangular in shape and with rounded facial features. At first, her body appeared to be draped in a flowing green cloak, but then Megatron noticed that it was actually composed of hundreds of thin, green tendrils.

She glided from behind the station on a beam of orange light and approached the Decepticons, easily dwarfed by them. "Welcome, Megatron," she said. Her voice was a soothing three-part harmony, slightly melodic. "I am Justice." Her tentacles rippled with each word.

The first Quintesson bowed slightly, then spin-clicked to a new face. "He is here for--"

"I know why he is here," Justice said. "Magistrates, leave us. I must talk to the Decepticons alone."

The two Quintessons began to move, but the Sweeps blocked their path. They looked to Megatron, who turned to Justice. "They can't leave."

"They will not escape," she said simply.

Megatron stared intently at her for a moment. He then nodded to the Sweeps, who stepped aside. The Magistrates quickly zipped away.

"Now," Megatron said, "What do you have to tell me?"

"The history of the Quintessons."

Megatron growled slightly. "You're trying my patience."

"Then I shall be brief," Justice countered. "Know that the Quintessons are not from this region of space. They once lived in a remote corner of the galaxy, on a paradise world created by their ancestors. They are very intelligent in science and engineering , but they possess one fatal flaw: they are incapable of any initiative.

"That was why I was created. Not only do I protect the Quintessons, but I also give their lives meaning and guidance. I do not rule in a way you understand, but I serve them as their authority. So long as I gave them tasks to perform, they were happy and my purpose was complete."

Megatron was repulsed at the idea of such a stagnant lifestyle. Unaware, Justice continued, "The Quintesson home world was destroyed when its sun went nova. Before that occurred, I instructed them to build a space ship so that we could flee the disaster. They slept in stasis while I flew the ship in search of a new home.

"We arrived countless years later, on a planet which I named Quintessa, in memory of our old home. But it lacked the resources to maintain the life style that the Quintessons were accustomed to."

She paused for a moment, as if recalling a hazy memory. "I was aware that a planet of robots was nearby. A search of the computers explained that it was Cybertron, and revealed detailed schematics and plans. That was when I awoke the Quintessons. I told them of ancient history, where their ancestors were the original creators of Cybertron. And I told them that I had returned them here to reclaim it.

"So pleased, they then filled their days with schemes to conquer the planet. Even the destruction of Quintessa did little to deter their enthusiasm. We would have continued with our designs for many years if you had not arrived."

Megatron stood in silence. When it was clear that Justice was finished, he asked, "What does this have to do with building my army of Decepticons?"

Justice's tendrils shimmered suddenly. "The Quintessons are not the creators of Cybertron."

"What?!"

Justice bowed her head. "It is a lie of my making. It ... it seemed to be a good idea at the time. It gave them something to strive for. Whether they succeeded or not was irrelevant. All that mattered was that they were content and preoccupied."

"But..." Scourge paused, then tried again. "If they didn't ... then they don't know how to create new ones."

Justice nodded. "We can make the bodies. But without that indefinable spark of life, that which you call a 'personality program,' they can never be anything more than simple automatons. The Sharkticons are the best we can do, and they are nothing more than mindless simpletons."

"Then you're useless to me!" Megatron yelled. His arm snapped forward, the fusion cannon ready to strike.

"Wait!" she cried. "Take us!"

"What?"

Justice's next words came forth with an effort. "...Let us serve you. We cannot give you new Decepticons, but we can still provide you with armament, equipment, support, and repairs. I have but to say it, and all of the Quintessons shall be yours to command."

Megatron watched her suspiciously. Slowly, he asked, "How can I trust you?"

"I am incapable of deceiving you. It is better for the Quintessons to live a life of servitude for you than to be exterminated now. My design binds me to this."

There was another, longer moment of silence. Then his arm lowered as the cannon's charge dissipated. "Very well, Justice ... From now on, you and your people are mine, to do with as I please. But I warn you -- any sign of betrayal, and I'll kill all of you without a second thought."

"I understand."

Megatron nodded and softly said, "There's still the problem of restoring the Decepticon army. I have but one alternative remaining ... and I believe you may be of use there..."

From space, the metallic sphere of Cybertron offered all of the signs of an advanced civilization. City lights twinkled on and about its multilayered surface, while the gentle glow of the inner core bespoke of tranquillity and power. Though it lacked oceans and vegetation, there was no longer any doubt that Cybertron was bearing life.

Yet that was a small lie. Once, before the Autobot/Decepticon conflict ravaged the planet, Cybertron easily supported a population of several billion mechanoids. But with the countless years of war, only a few thousand Autobots remain throughout the galaxy. Even the return of the "lost Transformers" from the once-secret colony of Paratron couldn't make up for the steady attrition of the long war. And so, Cybertron found itself with one of the lowest population density ratios in the known universe.

It was therefore not surprising that the Cyron Sector Datastore was almost devoid of people in the middle of the Cybertron "day." Only a handful of personnel were needed to run the Datastore, and they outnumbered the visitors who were present. No one minded. There were enough holocrystals and tapes that needed organizing to keep the attendants busy for years, and fewer guests made study and research easier.

The meditative quiet was shattered when the front doors erupted inwards. An instant later, Megatron dashed through the smoke and into the entry room with Soundwave and Cyclonus on his heels. An astonished receptionist, recovering from his initial shock, bolted out from behind the front desk. Cyclonus snap- fired his oxidating laser, sending a bolt through the runaway and killing him instantly.

Megatron smiled at Cyclonus' efficiency. Megatron was originally wary of a direct assault on the Autobots, realizing that safer and more subtle plans were possible. But he also recognized that Decepticon morale needed boosting, and the best way to do that was to wage a decisive victory over their enemies. Watching Cyclonus reaffirmed Megatron's confidence in his resolution.

The three worked in quiet precision. Cyclonus guarded the front entrance and Megatron watched for overconfident researchers while Soundwave's metal fingers flew across the keyboard of the receptionist's computer terminal. Less than two minutes later, his monotonic singsong voice announced, "The target has been found."

Megatron was by his side in a moment and beamed at the sight on the display. "Excellent! Now, find the nearest route."

With the press of a few keys, a cross-section map of Cybertron appeared in green, superimposed by two red dots and a fragmented line connecting them. "Information recorded," Soundwave announced.

Megatron stood up proudly. "Come, Decepticons. Our victory is near!" The three intruders dashed out of the Datastore, then leaped into the dark sky and flew off.

Optimus Prime was carefully studying two datapadds in front of him. They were reports on the benefits and drawbacks of restoring the Grand Hexacom Canal with imported water, and each one managed to successfully counter the other's arguments and conclusions. Thus it was with a little relief that Prime answered the beep of the message console.

Hot Rod appeared immediately on the screen. For a time he had been Rodimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and keeper of the Matrix after Optimus' death. With his return, Hot Rod had gladly relinquished the burden of leadership and resumed his carefree lifestyle. But the other Autobots recognized his potential, and Optimus had promoted him to the rank of field commander to encourage his talents. Hot Rod chafed slightly in the role, but all felt that all he needed was more time.

The agitation on his face did not bode well for the present. Steeling himself, Prime calmly asked, "What is it, Hot Rod?"

"We've got a report from the Cyron Datastore! The Decepticons just attacked, and they're led by Megatron!"

Prime leaped out of his chair. "What?" Quickly he asked, "What was taken? Where are they now?"

"They're on long-range radar, heading one-three-three mark six. Ultra Magnus is already leading a team after them. They didn't take anything, just did some data searches. Here's what they dug up."

The screen divided itself into four partitions, and Hot Rod's face shrank into the lower-left corner. Above him were a list of keyword search requests, which were next to an outlined list of selected entries. In the lower-right corner was the same cross-sectional map of Cybertron that appeared on the Datastore computer terminal minutes before. Optimus Prime stared in shock.

A nervous voice brought him back. "Prime? Prime! What's going on?"

Prime turned to Hot Rod's image. "How many Autobots are on standby?"

"Just Getaway and Scoop--"

"Radio Magnus, tell him the Decepticons are heading for the Delron Sar radio base. Then get them and meet me out front. Hurry!"

As Hot Rod began working at a set of off-screen controls, he asked, "Where're we going?"

Prime paused. "To Vector Sigma." He dashed out of the chambers as the console faded to black.

The three Decepticons flew quickly across the sky. Megatron was disoriented at first; the Cybertronian landmarks that were familiar to him were no longer present, as most had been rebuilt or restored by the Autobots. From high in the air, the buildings appeared to be mere playthings. How he wanted so much to tear out the useless museums and parks, the laboratories and conference halls, and replace them with factories and weapons batteries and assembly lines instead. To take Cybertron's untapped military potential and bring it to full bloom -- the dream of a lifetime ago.

All in due time, he reminded himself. First things first.

Soundwave, flying on his right, pointed and announced, "We are approaching the target. Autobots interceding."

Megatron recalibrated his optics for a telescopic view and confirmed the assessment. Their destination was the Delron Sar communications outpost, an undistinguished small oval building in an open field and surrounded by several other structures. In front of it, armed and waiting, were two mechanoids -- the giant gestalt Defensor, and Ultra Magnus.

"Cyclonus! Greet them!"

To Megatron's left, Cyclonus silently shifted into his jet mode. Dropping towards the ground, twin nuclear-powered turbines suddenly shrieked to life as the Decepticon blazed forth. In an instant, Cyclonus was on top of them. He roared by at MACH 2, ion cannons clearing the way as twin sonic booms rattled in his wake. Ultra Magnus could only dive out of the way, while the combined assault caused Defensor to stagger.

Megatron and Soundwave landed a moment later. "Only two Autobots? I'm insulted, Magnus!"

"Well, let's fix that!"

Megatron turned and ducked just as a green bolt blazed overhead. From a gully behind him, the Autobots Rad, Topspin and Arcee popped up, firing on the Decepticons. Megatron finished his roll and dashed into a nearby alley. He was joined by Soundwave seconds later, bolts and explosions in his wake.

"Give it up, Megatron!" Rad shouted as he fired his disrupter. "Get back to whatever scrap heap you crawled out of!"

Megatron replied with a blast from his fusion cannon. A crater erupted at the rim of the trench and sent Rad diving. He turned and shouted quickly, "Soundwave! Activate the signal and clean out that gutter trash! Cyclonus! Take the Autobots' front guard!"

Soundwave nodded and pressed a button on his shoulder. His chest door opened and a cassette shot out, unsnapping into the bestial shape of Ravage. With a snarl, the black panther robot hit the ground and ran across the field.

In the skies above, Cyclonus began a second run on Defensor, firing rapidly. But this time Defensor was ready: his force field snapped on, handily deflecting the attack even as he countered with a blast from his fireball cannon. Cyclonus banked hard to the right and dodged the blast, then climbed suddenly to avoid a swing from Defensor's gigantic fist.

Ravage leaped into the trench and tackled Arcee. As she fell, Rad's blaster leaped out of his hand and transformed into Lionizer, then pounced with a roar. Ravage leaped off his prey and eyed the challenger; in an instant, the two predators tore into each other in a haze of fang and claw. As Rad rushed to Arcee's side, he shouted, "Topspin! Surround 'em!"

Topspin jumped out of the trench and instantly doubled over into his sled mode. Rockets roaring, he arrived seconds later at the far end of the Decepticons' alley, snapped back to robot form, and began shooting at the besieged Decepticons. Soundwave turned and fired, but Topspin transformed again and drove off, avoiding the attack.

Megatron snarled as he ducked a blast from Ultra Magnus' laser rifle. In the background, Cyclonus was swarming around Defensor, nipping away with his guns while dodging the other's massive swipes. The situation was degenerating faster than he expected, and Megatron began to wonder if he was betrayed.

The communications outpost exploded violently as a thick red beam lanced out of the sky and struck it. The shockwave sent Cyclonus twirling away, and Autobots and Decepticons alike fell to the ground. Before anyone could recover, a dark blue airship dropped out of the sky and landed on top of the newly-formed crater, the Decepticon sigil on its side clearly visible.

Ultra Magnus scrambled to his feet, then transformed into his car-carrier form and drove off as a set of double doors on the side of the craft slid open. A menagerie of robotic beasts poured forth, followed by Sixshot, Triggerhappy, and a Quintesson Magistrate.

Megatron fired at Magnus, who swerved sharply to avoid the blast, then overturned and tumbled into the ditch. Ignoring him, Megatron ran towards the ship and yelled, "Decepticons! Secure the area!"

Sixshot eagerly fell to the ground and transformed himself into a high-speed tank as Triggerhappy jumped up and folded into his blue jet form. The two berserkers charged the trench, weapons firing madly. "C'mon, Autobots!" Sixshot yelled, "Today's a good day to die!"

Hun-grrr's twin heads cried in a guttural chorus, "Terrorcons, unite!" In unison, the five monsters leaped into the air, their bodies twisting and folding with measured precision. They joined together seconds later to form the golem called Abominus.

He roared once, then lumbered over and reached for Defensor's prostrate form. The Autobot combiner lashed out suddenly with his legs, sending Abominus stumbling aside. Defensor scrambled to his feet and charged. The two crashed together and began exchanging savagely brutal blows, and the ground shook with each step.

Megatron shouted more orders as he reached the base of the ship. "Soundwave, recall Ravage and Cyclonus! Predacons, Quintesson, to me! Scorponok, you fool! What kept you?"

The massive green and purple scorpion unleashed a blinding arc of electricity on the fleeing Autobots. "We needed to confirm the target. You wouldn't want us to blast the wrong building, would you?" Though Scorponok's face wasn't visible, the mirth in his tone was obvious.

Megatron scowled. "We'll discuss this later. Soundwave! The entrance!"

Soundwave pointed to a remote corner of the crater. Razorclaw leaped with a snarl, then gutted open the spot in an instant to reveal an underground passage. As Cyclonus landed, Ravage leaped into his cassette form and slid into Soundwave's chest compartment.

Megatron and his team descended into the depths of Cybertron, quickly leaving the sounds of the battle far behind.

The corridor before them forked into three paths. Lamps probed briefly into each choice, but revealed nothing.

"Which way?" Hot Rod asked.

Optimus Prime concentrated for a moment. Then, responding to the guiding instinct of the Matrix, he said, "Right."

The Autobots sprinted down the rightmost passage. Their urgency was tempered only by the twisting corridors and numerous forks throughout the subterranean infrastructure. The stale air and thick layers of dust everywhere was proof that no one had traveled this way in eons.

They stopped at another intersection that branched to the left and right. Everyone turned to Prime, who quietly announced "Left."

A bend, a downward slope, and another bend led them to a large rectangular chamber. It was filled with over a hundred green robots, each impressively large and with a single, emotionless yellow eye. They stood in military file formation, oblivious to the Autobots.

"What are they?" Getaway asked.

"Guardians," Prime said. "But they appear to be deactivated."

"Is that bad?"

"It is ... odd. They're supposed to guard Vector Sigma from intruders."

"Uh oh," Scoop said.

Hot Rod spoke next. "You think Megatron's gotten to Vector Sigma already?"

"I have felt nothing in the Matrix," Prime said. "But I don't know if I would feel anything at all."

Hot Rod began examining one of the Guardians. "Can we activate them?"

Getaway ran to his side and the two quickly opened an access panel. He peered in, then said, "No way, kid. The power core's completely drained. You'll need a repair shop to get it going again."

Scoop took a glance at the opening. "That's odd. That's a hyperquantum core. Those things never drain if it has time to recharge between uses."

"You mean the robots have been activated recently?" Hot Rod asked.

"Only if someone's been down here."

"Unlikely," said Prime. "These passages have not been used in years. And no attacker would leave the Guardians in an organized formation."

Getaway nodded. "Then what drained 'em?"

"I don't know. In any case, the Guardians are useless to us. We must continue."

In agreement, the Autobots dashed out of the room.

Soundwave took the lead, using his sensors to detect the unique electronic "signature" of their objective. They traveled in silence, except for an occasional comment from the Predacons; the lack of anything to fight made them easily irritable.

"How much farther?" Rampage snarled. "We've been walking forever, my nose itches, I hate this place, grrrawwwnawlll!"

Tantrum chimed in, "All you do is complain! Why can't you fight as well as you talk?"

"Quiet!" Razorclaw snapped over his shoulder.

"No!" Headstrong shouted. "Why should I be quiet? You're always ordering us around--"

"I'm the Predacon leader!"

"--and not doing a good job of it," Divebomb snipped.

"Better him than you," said Tantrum.

"I should be leader!" Rampage said. "I'll tear into those Autobots, rip out their wires, bust a move, kick the can, urrrghsnarf!"

Divebomb said, "You're a babbling idiot!"

"Look--"

"Shut up!"

"What makes you think you can--"

"--be quiet!"

"I don't want to--"

"Silence!" Megatron's roar cowered the Predacons into submission. Satisfied, they resumed marching.

The murky dimness of their travel was broken by a warm glow from a room up ahead. They stopped in the doorway and looked in. It was a massive, round chamber, several hundred meters in diameter with a curved floor and ceiling. In the center of the floor was a small pedestal. Floating slightly above it was a crystalline yellow sphere, covered with a thousand tiny facets. It glowed with a warm, amber light, the only source of illumination in the room.

"Vector Sigma," Megatron breathed. "The mega-computer that is the source of all Transformer life."

The Decepticons quickly stepped in and approached it. On Razorclaw's silent cue, the Predacons transformed and combined into Predaking. Megatron, Cyclonus, and Soundwave led the Quintesson over to Vector Sigma, who began to carefully study the artifact.

"Hmmm. Broadcast power." Spin, click. "Crystalline encoding." Spin, click. "Nanocircuitry." Spin, click. "Fascinating. I wonder how it works?"

"That doesn't matter," Megatron replied. "Can you do it?"

"Creating a new Key to activate it is simple enough." Spin, click. "A mere matter of completing and powering the interface circuit. But removing this computer will take some time." Spin, click. "If you simply tried to take it, there is a 94.28% probability it will be destroyed. But yes, it can be done."

"Then do it. We have all the time that you'll need."

The Magistrate nodded then began to work, his tentacles playing lightly over the surface of Vector Sigma. Megatron smiled with the thrill of anticipation.

Arcee ran down the alley, away from the battlefield. Defensor had fallen moments ago, and Abominus was beginning to look for the other Autobots. Her plan was to hide in the far end of the building, then double back and catch the gestalt by surprise from the rear.

(Duck!)

She obeyed immediately, diving for the ground even as a searing bolt of heat flashed above her. Thanks, Daniel she replied as she scrambled back up. Once, to save Daniel Witwicky's life, Arcee had undergone the Nebulan's binary-bonding procedure and became a HeadMaster. Their two personalities were merged, and the young boy acquired the ability to turn into the head of her robot form.

Since then, the two have been the closest of friends. At rest, his optimism uplifted her even as her wisdom tempered the rashness of his youth. In combat, they worked with a unique synchronization system that gave them faster reflexes and better coordination than other, unaugmented Transformers.

Sixshot roared overhead in his star fighter mode. "Lucky, girlie! But I'll get you yet!" He shifted to his armored carrier form and landed in the far end of the alley, then barreled full speed towards her. Arcee whipped out her laser pistol and fired, but the shot bounced harmlessly off the Decepticon's sloped armor.

(We're trapped!)

No we're not! In an instant, Arcee changed plans and charged towards Sisxhot's onslaught. His concussion blasters fired in response, but she sidestepped them with effortless grace under Daniel's control.

Just before impact, Arcee leapt. She grabbed onto Sixshot's roof with her free hand while Daniel brought her into a tuck and roll. Surprised, Sixshot barreled out of the alley, then went into a fishtail reverse even as he began to transform into ramming tank mode.

But Arcee and Daniel were ready. As she concentrated on maintaining her grip, Daniel quickly found an area temporarily exposed by Sixshot's transformation process. Then they switched roles, Daniel holding on while Arcee shoved her laser inside and fired a full-powered burst.

Sixshot yelled in violent agony and lost control. Only then did Arcee let go and tumbled to the ground. Sixshot spun out and slammed into Abominus' leg. The giant staggered briefly before falling, flattening the Linguistics Center in the process.

(We did it!)

Arcee's response was choked out as a massive purple claw snatched her off the ground. Scorponok's voice gloated, "Impressive, Autobot! Too bad you won't live to enjoy your little achievement!" She fought back a cry of pain as his grip tightened and her vision turned dark.

"Unhand her, you fiend!"

A bright red fireball fell out of the sky, striking Scorponok in the side. He stumbled suddenly, flinging Arcee through the air in the process. But before she had time to panic, a pair of metal talons snatched her with surprising speed and gentleness.

"Swoop!"

"Sky Lynx fight good, but Swoop, me catch gooder!" the robotic pterodactyl said proudly.

Arcee and Daniel smiled, savoring the relief it brought. Swoop quickly lowered her to the ground, then said, "You okay, Arcee. Now me help Dinobots!" Without waiting for a reply, he took off to join his companions, who were mercilessly pounding Abominus with a nasty combination of fire, energy, and brute force.

Nearby, Sky Lynx had separated into his dragon and lynx forms, using both to keep Scorponok staggered with a two-pronged attack. The white dragon circled overhead and launched another fireball. "Your brutish tactics are--"

Scorponok dodged the attack, only to have the blue lynx ram him in the side. "--no match for my superior powers!"

The blow sent Scorponok tumbling into the side of the Decepticon craft. He quickly transformed to robot mode, then brutally cuffed the lynx away as it pounced a second time. "Prattling idiot!" Dodging another fireball from the dragon, Scorponok produced his gun and quickly fired on Abominus and Sixshot. Their bodies began floating upwards as Scorponok ran into the ship.

With a thundering roar, the engines came to life and it quickly climbed away from Cybertron. Two amber beams latched on to the floating Decepticons while Triggerhappy wobbled through the open hatch. It snapped shut, whereupon the ship blasted away with its subjects in tow, quickly disappearing against the dark skies.

Arcee dashed towards the remains of the comm center, where Ultra Magnus was assembling the Autobots. Roadbuster was chatting with Hardhead when he saw her approach. "Great shooting, Arcee!"

"Thanks, but I had help."

Sky Lynx's two halves had rejoined, and now he returned to the others. "Yes, you did. Fortunate that I was there to rescue you from that Decepticon thug!"

"Me Swoop, me helped too!"

Arcee turned as Ultra Magnus addressed the crowd. "The danger's not over yet, people! Megatron's still down there, and Prime's going to need our help."

"Right, Magnus!" Hardhead snarled. "Let's get down there and kick chrome!"

"Exactly! Sky Lynx, you and the Dinobots stay up here and make sure the Decepticons don't get away. The rest of us are going down."

"Have no fear, Magnus," Sky Lynx said. "With my leadership skills, even this simplistic rabble is more than enough to keep Megatron trapped!"

"Who you call 'rabble'?" Grimlock demanded.

Sludge asked, "What means 'rabble'?"

"Me Slag not sure, but think it not good."

Sky Lynx moaned, "Matrix save me! This may tax even my infinite patience!"

As she followed the other Autobots into the tunnel, Arcee and Daniel shared a silent laugh.

Quickly, Optimus Prime stole a glance into the other room. He snapped back an instant later as a blue-white bolt of energy flew out the doorway and struck the opposite wall of the corridor.

A voice from the other room taunted, "Give it up, Prime! You can't stop us!"

"We're going to try anyway, Megatron!"

"Then you'll die trying!" Another blast flew by, creating another explosion.

He may be right, Prime thought. Quite simply, the Autobots had arrived too late. Megatron and his forces were busy doing whatever they wanted with Vector Sigma, and the Autobots were helpless to stop them.

Getaway scrambled down the hall and slid to a stop next to Prime. "No luck!" he whispered. "That's the only way in or out of there!"

"What about access panels or ventilation shafts?"

Getaway shook his head. Prime expected as much, but needed to ask anyway.

There was a clatter from down the hall. The Autobots turned as one and were rewarded with the sight of Ultra Magnus and his team. "Prime! What's going on here?"

"Megatron is in there with Vector Sigma. Predaking's guarding the entrance, and his force field protects them from our attacks."

"And that's the only way in," Hot Rod added. His face clearly reflected the frustration he felt. As do we all, Prime realized.

"What is he doing with it?" Arcee asked.

"We don't know," Getaway said.

"Does it matter?" Roadbuster said. "Whatever it is, it won't be good for our health."

As if in reply, the Quintesson Magistrate suddenly cried out, "I have it!"

"Perfect! Begin immediately!" Megatron replied. "Prime! Are you listening to me? Soon, I'm going to take away your precious Vector Sigma. Then I'll create an army of Decepticons and obliterate you once and for all!"

A chill ran through Prime's body as he imagined the consequences: countless Decepticons, all with the guile and talent to conquer the entire universe. He berated himself for not realizing the importance of Vector Sigma and taking steps to protect it. How could I have been so blind?

Just as quickly, he put the thoughts aside. Now was not the time for self- abuse, but for unerring action. Prime turned to the others. "Autobots! We have no choice left. Our only hope to stop Megatron now is to charge in and fight them directly."

"That's suicide!" Getaway said. "They'll shoot us as soon as we step through!"

"I know. But we have no choice. We must do anything to prevent Vector Sigma from falling into Megatron's hands. Even if we destroy Vector Sigma and ourselves in the process, he must be stopped!"

Prime looked to the others. They were worried and anxious and scared, and with good reason; but none of them were refusing. The Autobots knew what was being asked and knew that the cause was just, so they were prepared to give their lives for it.

Finally, Roadbuster said, "Might as well go fighting." Weapons ready, they braced for the attack.

Without a word, Prime charged into the room. Predaking reacted instantly and fired his X-ray laser. The blast caught Prime in his chest and slammed him against the wall.

Before Predaking could fire again, Hot Rod charged in, his discharger rifle shots intercepted by the force field. Predaking's next blast caught him in the leg as a shot from Cyclonus hit him in the arm. He fell as Ultra Magnus pushed forward; Magnus fired both shoulder rockets, but they, too, exploded harmlessly against the shield. The Autobots continued to pour into the room even as the Decepticons mowed them down.

Fighting a burning pain in his circuits, Prime raised himself and fired. His rifle caught Megatron in the side and sent him staggering, but the Decepticon leader didn't fall. Prime rolled away in time to avoid a burst from Megatron's fusion cannon. Around them, the pitch of battle grew rapidly.

A chilling scream filled the room.

Everyone stopped and turned. All five of the Magistrate's faces were twisted in agony, a dozen green tentacles locked tightly around the crystal sphere.

Vector Sigma flared violently. Red bolts of energy burst from its thousand facets, slashing around the room and striking Autobot and Decepticon alike. The scream stopped suddenly as the Quintesson was vaporized.

The amber glow of Vector Sigma turned orange as it floated upwards. Prime slowly stood, watching it with fear and trepidation. The other combatants were also affected, unable to turn away and unwilling to move. It continued to climb, taller than Predacon, stopping only when it reached the ceiling.

With a roar of rushing air, Vector Sigma exploded.

There was no fire nor heat, just an inescapably brilliant white light that flooded the chamber. It was a radiance bright enough to wash away all details, all lines, all divisions and distinctions. Pure enough to seek out the blackest night, the deepest pit, the darkest hour ... and light it.

An instant later, the brightness coalesced in the center of the chamber, drawing color and substance as it formed. An image formed -- the face of a giant mechanoid, which filled the chamber and peered down on them with a look of bemusement. A face of purest steel, surrounded by a shining helm of purple and red and gold. Inlaid circuitry, barely visible, laced its cheeks and brow. And dark, deep-set eyes, filled with the same pure brilliance that shone moments ago.

He addressed them slowly, with measured words and a voice of infinite patience. //The Moment Has Arrived.// Turning to Megatron, the face continued, //You Are Free Of The Other. Only Now Can You Be Made Complete.//

"Who are you?" Megatron demanded, a touch of hesitation in his arrogance.

//I Am Primus.//

Optimus reeled. Primus was a name out of legend that lived on only in a few archaic colloquialisms and dusty myths. Even before the Autobot-Decepticon war began millions of years ago, Primus was an obscure name, almost forgotten and completely disregarded. Now, with the invocation of his name, long- dormant racial sentiments stirred in Autobot and Decepticon alike.

Primus continued, //Countless Trillions Of Years Ago, The Age Of The Gods Was Drawing To A Close. I Was The Last Of The Gods Of Light. My Task Was To Destroy The Chaos-Bringer, Unicron.//

//But He Was Stronger, Faster, And Better At Destruction. I Could Not Win By Force Alone. So I Used Treachery, Imprisoning Our Life Essences In Two Metal Planetoids. I Hoped The Threat Was Over.//

//Unfortunately, Over Time, Unicron Learned To Psionically Reshaped His Metal Prison. Able To Change Between Robot And Planet, He Resumed The Hunt.//

//I Fled Through Space, And Conceived Of A Plan.//

//I Reshaped Myself Into This World. I Populated It With Beings To Fight Him, And Made Them Able To Mimic His Abilities. Able To Turn Their Bodies Into Machinery, Vehicles, And Weapons. Able To Do What I Could Not. They Are The Last Line Of Defense Against Unicron.//

//They Are You. The Transformers.//

A silence filled the room. Optimus Prime himself felt no doubts; something fundamental within him responded to the story, and knew -- somehow -- that it was true. And with this knowing came a deeply satisfying sensation: of fulfillment, of meaning, of purpose.

Megatron shouted, "But Unicron is dead!"

//I Know.// Primus smiled lightly and turned to Hot Rod. //You Succeeded As I Had Hoped. You -- All Of You -- Proved Strong Enough To Defeat Unicron.//

Hot Rod stood still, recalling his critical part in the final battle as he accepted the praise in silence. Recognition from a god is rare indeed, Optimus realized.

Defiantly, Megatron shouted again. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

//Your Will Is Strong, Megatron,// Primus acknowledged. //I Tell You This Only Because My Time Approaches. There Is No Longer A Need To Keep You Blinded, And You Deserve The Truth.//

//It Was Necessary For Me To Remain Hidden To Teach You Self-Reliance. But I Interceded Only On The Rarest Occasions. I Guided The Quintessons To Satisfy Curiosity Over Your Origins. I Altered Primacron's Memory To Motivate Him To Create Toritron, So Your Factions Could Learn To Work Together. But Most Of The Time, I Remained A Passive Observer.//

Megatron remained immobile, staring intently at Primus. But while his expression never changed and his body never wavered, it was clear to all that the fire of challenge in him slowly died, and he accepted Primus' words.

//Optimus Prime. I Sense You Have A Question Of Your Own.//

Prime nodded. Slowly, reverently, he simply asked, "Why a war?"

Primus frowned for the first time. Several long seconds passed before he responded. //My Powers Are Not Limitless. I Could Not Tell What Traits Were The Best To Defeat Unicron, So I Gave Them All To You. I Had Anticipated Some Disagreement In Your Order, But Not A War Of Such Magnitude.//

//Perhaps It Was Inevitable That You Would Be Divided. Yet The Conflict Had Its Uses, For It Honed Your Skills And Brought Out The Best In You. But Now The Crisis Is Over; Your War No Longer Has Purpose.//

Primus paused for a long moment, lost in his unfathomable thoughts. Then he finally said, //That Will Come At A Time Of Your Choosing. Remember That Neither Side Is Right. There Is A Place For Strength And Weakness, For Compromise And Determination, For Mercy And Ruthlessness. They Are All Pieces Of The Whole.//

The frown disappeared, and he addressed the assembly once more. //Now I Must Set You Free, And Let You Find Your Own Destiny. To Do This, I Release Your Final Dependence On Me. Optimus Prime And Megatron: To You, I Give The Gift Of Life.//

Two prismatic bolts shot out of Primus' eyes. They struck Megatron and Prime silently, then simply vanished.

Primus smiled once more. //Farewell, My Children. We Shall Meet Again.//

At those words, the chamber was again flooded with a roar and an inescapably brilliant white light. It faded away an instant later. Of Autobots, Decepticons -- and gods -- nothing remained.

Megatron stepped into his room with a feeling of satisfaction. There was a moment of confusion when the Decepticons found themselves back on Charr. But Megatron quickly seized the moment and immediately began ordering the Quntessons to build the next generation of Decepticons.

Now things were turning out as he had hoped. The new warriors he had imprinted were already proving themselves on the testing grounds. Eagle Eye and Windrazor's unscrupulous attitudes showed promise, while Afterburner had a subtle depth Megatron appreciated. Terradive, on the other hand, was pure brute force -- which was just fine with Megatron.

Creation was so simple: he simply had to touch the lifeless body, and it would instantly be, ready to obey and fight and kill. Yet there were limits; after Windrazor was "born," Megatron sensed that the power was gone, and that he needed to wait before he could create again. He accepted that, and ordered the Quintessons to build more bodies until then.

Megatron had not wasted any of his time dwelling on the significance of Primus' words. His drive for conquest seemed unaffected, and that was fine with him. If there was a thing as destiny, then let him play out his role according to his feelings. The means didn't matter to him so long as the Decepticons conquered the Autobots in the end.

His thoughts now turned to less pressing matters. Scorponok's quick retreat from Cybertron was either an act of extreme cowardice or a treacherous hope that the Autobots would capture him. That, coupled with his delayed arrival on the battlefield, was enough to warrant some form of punishment...

Optimus Prime stared silently out of the bay windows of the conference hall. Behind him, some of the other Autobots continued to debate the ramifications and meaning of their encounter with Primus.

Hot Rod said, "I don't understand why he didn't just end the war."

"Maybe he feels that since we started the war ourselves, we have to finish it ourselves," Kup replied.

"It would have been nice if he did, however," Ultra Magnus added. "I almost get the feeling that he doesn't care about us, now that Unicron is destroyed."

Perceptor spoke next. "I have found nothing in the ancient texts to support that. Our archives contain very little literature on the ancient legends, but by the accounts of what I was able to ascertain, Primus was always depicted as a kind and merciful god."

"I wonder if he's still here. Vector Sigma may be gone, but for all we know, Primus is still around, and watching over us."

"You think he's controlling us again?" Hot Rod asked.

"I don't know. Primus said that he set us free, but we have no way to be sure. What if our acceptance is merely another aspect of his influence?"

"That is a circular argument," Perceptor said. "One can argue that the ability to question your freedom is sufficient evidence that you are free of Primus' influence. But then you can counter-argue that this freedom is completely imaginary, designed by Primus to give you the illusion of freedom."

"He's right," Hot Rod said. "You'll just get paranoid that way."

"What bugs me is how he gets off altering our memories," Kup drawled.

"Did you think he did?" Magnus asked.

"Of course, lad! Vector Sigma was sitting there all that time, and nobody thought about using it to its full extent. Just think: why didn't we create a million Autobots and end the war quickly?"

"But the key was destroyed--"

"Alpha Trion had the key for six million years, but he never thought about using it. When the Aerialbots destroyed it, no one even suggested making a replacement. The Matrix casing also activated Vector Sigma, but Prime didn't think about it either. So either we're all complete idiots -- Autobots and Decepticons, mind you -- or Primus was messing with our heads."

Hot Rod said, "So the vision I had, when I went into the Matrix and learned about the Quintessons creating the Transformers ... that was really Primus!"

"Yup. He fooled you, he fooled me, he fooled the Quintessons, the Decepticons, and everyone else."

The others nodded somberly. Magnus then said, "Prime? You've been very quiet all this time. What do you make of it?"

For a moment, Optimus Prime stood still. Then, as if with great reluctance, he said, "I'm worried for ourselves."

"What do you mean?"

There was a long, lingering silence. Finally, in a voice that was almost inaudible, he said, "Whatever his intentions ... if Primus is impassive enough to let the war continue, if he is willing to manipulate others, deceive them, control them for his own ends ... what does that say about us?"

No one had a satisfying answer.