{ MACHINE WARS }

Preparation
By The Liege Decado
Free at last!
Starscream burst out of the Maximal science facility, in a body not his
own. For months, or years, or days—he couldn’t be sure—he had been trapped
in the the Institute for Higher Programming, being poked and prodded,
analyzed, and cut in half by a parade of sparkologists and mechasurgeons. He
had only escaped when a guard—this guard, the latest host of his ghostly spark
—had thrown another one into the security console. One possession and a brisk
getaway later, he was free.
He phased out of the guard’s body, relishing his return to independence.
The guard stumbled and and grabbed his head with his prehensile arm. When
he spotted the floating half-spark in front of him, he froze.
Starscream switched to his semi-corporeal form, raised his hands above
his head, and whispered, “Boo.”
The guard ran screaming back to the klaxons of the Institute.
Starscream smiled and switched to invisible mode. He drifted through the
streets of Cybertropolis, reviewing his to-do list. Short term: re-establish
contact with his Predacon ally and reclaim the other half of his spark. Long-
term: get a body, get revenge, recreate the Decepticon empire, and conquer the
galaxy.
He was looking forward to it.

{
 Mirage slowly drove through his 41st tunnel of the day. He didn’t notice the
rust and hydraulic fluid his tires were splashing through, and he didn’t notice
that he had lost his spoiler a few kliks back, and he had stopped noticing the
large, unpolished 3D cartographic rig in his driver’s seat. His mind was on other
things.
His job was to chart the depths of the Cybertron; all the lost slave driving
routes, Autobase trenches and forgotten routes to the core. Prowl said it was their
postwar duty to map every part of their planet. Prowl, who had become one of the
Maximal Elders, along with Ironhide and Silverbolt. Prowl, who had been able to
adjust.
Mirage hadn’t. His mind thought back to 1984, when the war had reignited
and dragged on. He’d been hopeful then; his driving force had been the hope that
the war would end, and that he could return to his old life. He’d been naïve then.
Pax Cybertronia hadn’t fixed his home, or returned his money, or—or revived his
friends. Postwar Cybertron was an unsure, hostile place, with no room for him.
Hound had been able to resettle, becoming a higher-up in the Maximal
Command Security Force. Hoist had become a popular psychiatrist, and the likes
of Jazz and Bumblebee were off exploring. Yet Mirage was underground, and
alone, exploring the 42nd tunnel of the day.
Suddenly he noticed something strange about the wall ahead. There was…
a light?
He transformed and turned invisible, just in case. There was a hole in the
left-hand wall, just big enough for a Maximal or Predacon. Mirage peered
through it with one optic. He saw something. And someone.
He made an emergency call to Prowl.

}
 Starscream switched out of invisible mode in front of the Predacon. He
was unfazed.
“Don’t do that,” Ravage growled. “It makes you look stupid.”
They were in Ravage’s office. It was large, but full; the walls were
covered with boxes of data pads, stacks of hard drives, chunks of Decepticon
artifacts, and… personality components? There was a strangely uncluttered
black desk, between two black chairs in a black room. In fact, the only color
Starscream could see was purple, from dozens of fractional Decepticon
insignias. He also spotted “Temporal Mechanics: The Guide”.
“So, what does my favorite Predacat have for me today?” Starscream
asked, translucently leaning back in his opaque chair.
“No, no,” Ravage scolded, walking behind his desk. He put both hands on
it and leaned over. “You were off the grid for 16 months, trapped in a Maximal
science facility. You escaped, and still didn’t show for 6 days. You can’t just
waltz in here and talk like that.”
Starscream would have asked how he knew, but the answer was obvious:
as an officer in the Predacon Secret Police, he probably had more moles than
photon charges.
“The guard you possessed was arrested,” Ravage began, sitting down in
his chair. “He’s being shipped off on the Axalon on it’s next mission, along with
the fruit of the Maximals’ experiments. They were trying to replicate your
immortal spark, and apparently they failed.” He paused. “Speaking of the
Axalon… what did you find?”
Starscream thought back to his excursion to prehistoric Earth from… 16
month ago, apparently. “They’re not doing much. ‘Megatron’ is just after
Energon, and ‘Optimus’ is just countering them.” He decided not to mention the
part where he possessed a wasp and tried to take Megatron’s Predacons for
himself.
 Ravage chuckled. “Such low ambitions. And did Tarantulas have
anything to report?”
“He’s concluded that the Nemesis is in an ocean somewhere.” Starscream
reported. “Just think: we’re all down there. Megatron, Soundwave, you and I…”
“Feeling nostalgic, eh?” Ravage asked. He reached under his desk and
picked up a black box. “You may be late, but you did your job. Here’s your
reward.” He opened it, revealing half of a pulsing spark.
Starscream hid his pleasure. It would be nice to not have to return to the
Institute for it. He didn’t want to know how Ravage had gotten his paws on it.
“And this.” Ravage added, grabbing a data pad from under the desk. “It’s
the data from the Skywarp project. Do with it what you will.”
Starscream stood up, but not to leave. “One more thing. I have a
proposition.”

{
Hubcap was missing. Again.
Hoist had scanned every mechanometer of their two buildings, and found
no sign of his friend. What he had found was a beautifully dug tunnel in what
used to be his left foot, leading into the old tunnel system. Hoist didn’t know
what Hubcap could be doing down there, but it couldn’t be good.
Grapple had once been Cybertron’s premier architect, and an inimitable
artist with buildings. But millennia of war had taken its toll. When the war ended,
Hoist flourished, and he’d assumed Grapple would do the same. After all, doesn’t
a recovering society need new construction? But the Maximal Elders saw
Grapple’s ideas as unnecessary, an indulgence when there was infrastructure to
build. They compromised and let Grapple create the Cybertropolis Solar Power
Tower, which he came to see as his true masterpiece. Then it collapsed—not from
Decepticon fire, but from a mechanical failure. Shattered, Grapple withdrew, and
retreated into the persona of Hubcap, an artist with bodies. He had turned his
and Hoist’s pre-Maximal bodies into apartment complexes, which was
acceptable, but then he started doing… things to corpses in the Censerre Morgue.
Hoist had been terrified that Hubcap would gain an interest in living bodies, so
he became his caretaker… and jailer.
Hoist descended into the tunnels, hoping that no-one would be down there.
He splashed through hydraulic fluid and rust, searching for any sign of a robotic
presence. As he passed what the wall’s worn paint said was junction 133-134, he
was preparing to call the Maximal Command Security Force, but he heard a
thumping up ahead. It was soon followed by a large shadow.
It wasn’t Hubcap, and it wasn’t even a Maximal—it was an Autobot or
Decepticon, and it was running this way. Panicking, he was preparing to turn and
drive away, but then he spotted a second shadow: Hubcap! Hoist transformed
and started running over, giving him much more speed than in vehicle mode. As
he got close, he realized he knew the first shadow, too: Mirage!
“Hoist!” Mirage called. “We need your help!”

}
The Decepticon Hall of Heroes was the only bright spot in the ugly ruins
of Kaon. It was pristine, and for a reason: it was sealed in a forcefield only
Decepticon leaders could unseal. It was the core constant of the Kaonian
cityscape, and the Decepticon war machine; fortresses come and go, but the
Hall lasts forever. It was a golden monument to a faction past; surrounded by
Predacon camps, the Hall had outlasted the rise and fall of the Decepticon
empire.
It had three inhabitants. They were three fallen warlords, three of a long-
dead kind, and a thorn in the Predacons’ side. They were Cyclonus, Scourge,
and Galvatron.
 Starscream phased through the forcefield. He knew they passcode, but as
a ghostly spark (albeit one hastily forced together by an energon field) he didn’t
need it. He floated erratically down to the Hall of Heroes, and went straight into
the ground. He needed a temporary body, and here was a great place to find
one.
He floated through the solid ground, feeling his choices. He had thought
that the corpses of fallen leaders would offer a variety of invincible bodies, but
most of them were unusable. Trannis—too frail. Ghoulon—too round. Floron—
too decomposed. Pity.
Starscream felt something different when he possessed the grayed body of
High Regent Skyquake. He was a minor regional commander who had a brief
moment of fame a few decades After Unicron. More importantly, he had carpet
bombs, a Megavisor, and a jet mode. Perfect.
Starscream erupted from the ground, shattering metal plates and
spewing a cloud of rust into the air. He readied his newfound weaponry and
scoped around for his targets.
Past rows of golden statues was Galvatron, atop a golden throne. To
Starscream’s pleasure, he was startled, but he was already charging his particle
cannon. At his sides were eternal flunkies Cyclonus and Scourge. The three were
in terrible condition: their steel skin was so worn gears were visible, and they
were hideously hunched over. This would be almost too easy. Starscream also
noticed that the throne was on the coronation pedestal, the very site where
Galvatron had killed him lifetimes ago.
“Who dares‽” Galvatron yelled, standing up and pointing his tarnished
orange cannon at Starscream. “Scrash? Didn’t I kill you?”
Starscream jumped into the air, activated jets in his boots, and hovered
toward Galvatron. “Oh, you killed me, but I’m not Scrash…”
 Galvatron took a step back, nearly falling into his throne. “Starscream? Is
that you?”
“Here’s a hint.” Starscream replied, awash with smug irony. He rocket-
dashed to Galvatron, took hold of his arm, and tore his particle cannon off.
Starscream mounted it on his own arm and unloaded three blasts into
Galvatron’s midsection.
Galvatron, clenching his energon-covered abdomen, managed to speak.
“I’ll… tear your… traitorous… head OFF!” He pounced onto Starscream, but the
jet just grabbed his head, stabbed his fingers into Galvatron’s eye sockets, and
ripped his tyrannical head from his body with an unceremonious CHUK!
“Aww…” Starscream sighed to the head in his hand. “You ruined the
symmetry.” After three-hundred years (linearly, at least), he had his final
revenge.
He noticed Cyclonus and Scourge watching him from behind Murdron’s
memorial statue. Without looking, he swiftly aimed and fired his particle
cannon. He heard a scream.
He tossed Galvatron’s head into the Megavisor on his back and walked
over to the fallen Scourge. The blast had hit him squarely in the shoulder, but it
had taken most of his neck and arm too.
“Cy-cyclonus… hel-help… me…” Scourge called weakly. Cyclonus was
already gone.
Starscream wrenched Scourge’s head from his weakened neck and stored
it in his Megavisor. Two out of three wasn’t bad.

{
Sandstorm gave up on flying in the storm and transformed into buggy
mode, but the magnetic storm didn’t get much better.
 He was on a quest. A simple quest, but a quest nonetheless. Peace was nice,
but he’d found that it was getting boring. As much as he hated to admit it, since
he’d been exposed to the war, he missed it a little. His job as an interplanetary
diplomat was fulfilling, but tedious. He had taken to imagining everything as an
adventure; this was the latest in a series of favors for Prowl turned into an epic
bounty.
Sandstorm was excited for this one. Hyperactive imagination aside, this
was serious. Prowl had given him a critical mission, necessitated by an
emergency in the tunnels. All Sandstorm had to do was fetch Optimus Prime.
Like most, Sandstorm had assumed that Prime was dead, but Prowl
claimed he kept secret contact with Prime for just this occasion. Sandstorm
wasn’t sure why he’d be out here; he’d heard rumors that the neighboring sectors
intersected pocket dimensions or something. Perhaps his old leader wanted to be
alone, or perhaps he had to. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ask—he was
here to fetch. He was quickly approaching Optimus Prime’s promised
coordinates, so it was time to focus.
Sandstorm didn’t see Optimus in the distance, though. All he saw were hills
and a conspicuous pile of parts. Or so he thought, because the pile stood.
Suddenly Optimus Prime, greatest hero of his time, was standing in front of him.
“Oh—uh, hello. Optimus, sir,” Sandstorm greeted him while transforming,
surprised and unsure. Unlike him, Optimus Prime hadn’t downsized, so he was
about the height of one of Prime’s feet. “Prowl sa—”
“It’s been a long time since I was called that,” Optimus mused, looking at
the horizon. Sandstorm wasn’t sure if he meant “sir” or “Optimus”.
“Um—okay,” Sandstorm said, stumbling as he tried to recover his
eloquence. “Prowl says there’s a crisis about to happen, and you’re the only one
that can save us.”
 “I’m sure he and Ironhide and Silverbolt can deal with it,” Optimus said,
looking at his wrist. “The Maximals and Predacons have grown to function
without me.” Sandstorm noticed that Prime wasn’t making eye contact.
Sandstorm jumped into the air and transformed to helicopter mode. He
floated up in front of Optimus’s face. “I understand, but this is serious. At least
based on what Prowl told me, and you know he doesn’t exaggerate.” He paused,
and decided to try a different tactic. “I know you don’t think it’s your planet
anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t save it.”
Optimus looked directly at the buzzing helicopter in front of him. “Thank
you, but… I can’t.” He turned and started to walk away.
“It’s the Decepticons.” Sandstorm added.
Optimus Prime stopped in his tracks.

}
Starscream flew over the Rust Sea. He had a rendezvous with Ravage, but
he had a stop to make first. He was enjoying the power of his new temporary
body, hearing the roar of his dual thrusters and feeling the wind surround him.
He banked left as his destination came into view. The Decepticon ghetto
was up ahead. It had once been the city mode of Scorponok, but the Headmaster
was long gone. The old guard had gathered here, too ancient for the Predacons
and too resentful of the Autobots. Starscream still dropped by this dilapidated
complex from time to time, mostly to torture Runabout and Runamuck.
Starscream switched on his newly-discovered stealth mode and
descended to a tower that had once been Scorponok’s left claw. He crashed
straight through a window, causing an explosion of purple reinforced glass and
nearly colliding with the surprised inhabitant.
 “Who—?” Soundwave shouted in confusion, grabbing his concussion
blaster gun from his back and pointing it squarely at Starscream’s cockpit.
Starscream transformed and snatched it, crushing it with ease.
“Don’t worry,” Starscream assured him, “It’s just your old friend
Starscream, here with an offer.”
Soundwave went to detach his shoulder cannon, but paused. “An offer
from you? Last time I saw you, you were throwing Megatron into space. You’re
the last person I’ll take an offer from.” He yanked his cylindrical cannon from
his shoulder and aimed it at Starscream’s head.
Starscream put his hands up. A headshot wouldn’t harm him, but fake
vulnerability would help his case. “I don’t recall you being broken up about that.
But anyway,” he quickly said, backing up as Soundwave stepped closer, “think
of it as an invitation.”
“I’d rather get an invitation to a Mecannibal dinner party,” Soundwave
muttered.
“I don’t remember you being this angry,” Starscream noted, actually a
little surprised. This may not go as smoothly as planned.
Soundwave just stared at him, with no clear emotion on his masked face.
He just methodically fiddled with the trigger.
“We’re having a little get-together,” Starscream continued. “I’ll be there.
And so will Ravage.”
Soundwave dropped his gun on the floor. It landed with a clang and a
thud. There was a long silence. “Bring me to him.”
Starscream smiled under his new faceplate and transformed back to jet
mode. He opened his cockpit and waited on the trashed floor of Soundwave’s
room. Soundwave transformed, using mass-displacement circuitry not used in
decades, and landed neatly in cassette-player mode on Starscream’s seat.
Starscream took off, toward his final rendezvous.
 {
A makeshift war council had been formed. Gathered around a cartographic
rig were Hoist, Hubcap, and the recently arrived Prowl and Hound.
Mirage stood against the tunnel wall, awkwardly towering over his
Maximal friends. He had never undergone the Maximal upgrade, wary of the
dangers of exploration in such a small body. He was a little guilty about
consuming so much more energon with his inefficient systems, but it was a
necessary evil.
The area was silent. The group was a few mechanometers away from the
hole in the wall, so no-one dared to speak. They used inter-Autobot radio, on a
frequency untouched in vorns.
«According to my projections, Sandstorm should be here by now,» Prowl
noted. «We have to face the possibility of dealing with this alone.»
«Aren’t there reinforcements on the way?» Hoist asked. «The five of us
can’t beat the… Mirage, how many are there?»
«Four.»
«There are reinforcements,» Hound informed them, «but time is of the
essence. Unless Sandstorm brings Prime soon, we’ll have to do it ourselves.»
«Good thing I’m right here.» Sandstorm replied, flying in from around a
corner. «And here’s the bounty.»
Optimus Prime walked in. None of the gathered ‘bots had seen him in
decades, so his very presence was a sight to behold. He was taller than even
Mirage. He kneeled in front of the rig and looked at his company.
«Welcome, Optimus,» Mirage greeted him. «It’s been a while.»
«You’re late.» Prowl informed him.
«Who is it?» Prime asked. «Is it Galvatron?»
 Hoist gestured to the hole in the wall. «See for yourself. It’s worse than
Galvatron.»

}
All the pieces were now in place. Starscream had a body. He had a soldier,
and the means to make more. He had the device he needed. And he had all the
time in the world.
Starscream was standing atop a Mark I Kronosphere, a prototype time
machine built before the principles of mass displacement were understood.
Ravage had apparently scavenged and rebuilt it, should the need for time travel
arise. He watched as Soundwave tried desperately to get Ravage’s attention, but
the Predacon was focused on fixing the time machine’s stuck controls.
There was a sudden VOP! Starscream whirred around to see Skywarp on
the Kronosphere behind him, with a massive grin on his face. “‘Sup, Screamer?”
Starscream looked over to Ravage. “What is he doing here?”
“I thought you might like some backup.” Ravage explained, not looking up.
“These controls are stuck on the last used recall time, in 1985.”
“Well, fix it.” Starscream snapped, trying to ignore Skywarp staring at the
back of his head. Final victory was within his grasp. His plan had fallen into
place. Aside from some broken controls, there were no last-minute problems or
challenges. He had won; nothing could stop him now.

{
Optimus Prime burst through the wall, creating a massive hole and
scattering orange debris. Four Maximals and an Autobot poured in, guns loaded
and ready for battle.
 Startled, Starscream lifted his handgun, only to have it blown away by a
well-placed shot from Hound. He transformed and readied his carpet bombs, but
then Optimus jumped into the air and grabbed him by a thruster.
Hound and Hoist went for Ravage, who grabbed his two pistols and shot
Hound in the shoulder. Hoist shot the guns from his hands, so Ravage just
pounced on him instead. The two tussled as Hound struggled to get up.
Mirage lunged for Skywarp, but the jet teleported behind and shot him in
the back. Mirage fell forward, but he was stopped by a punch in the stomach from
Soundwave. He fell on his right side, nearly clipping the edge of the Kronosphere.
Ravage kicked Hoist into the Kronosphere controls. Hound stood up to
help, but then Soundwave brought his foot down on top of him with a KRUNCH.
“HOUND!” Mirage cried.
Hubcap leapt onto Skywarp’s right foot and tore purple plates from his
ankle. Skywarp yelped and went to flick him off, but then Sandstorm flew up
behind him and shot him in the neck. He staggered over and tripped on the
Kronosphere, landing on his back.
Optimus Prime bashed his fist through Starscream’s cockpit, and leapt of
the jet before he crashed into the ground. Starscream reflexively transformed, but
Prime grabbed him by both wrists and threw him on to the Kronosphere, back
first.
Mirage heaved himself off the ground and tackled Soundwave. He smashed
his fist into Soundwave’s tape cavity, severing energon conduits and just barely
missing the spark. He lifted Soundwave by his sides and smashed his head into
the Kronosphere.
“Bind them up!” Optimus Prime ordered.
The Autobots and Maximals converged on the Kronosphere. Prowl, always
cautious and always prepared, came into the room with four pairs of stasis cuffs.
The Decepticons were mostly too damaged to move, but they could still be
dangerous.
 Starscream reached for his hidden gun.
Skywarp initiated a teleport.
Mirage reached for Hound.
Ravage turned off his attention deflectors and slammed the Kronosphere’s
activation button.
All but two of the combatants were enveloped in a pink bubble. There was a
roar as the threads of space and time tore, spiraled together, and reunited.
Then, for the briefest of moments, there was silence.

To be continued