Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue:

{Shotbomber’s Journal—entry #2006-98}

            I eventually followed Punch, Hydra and Buster to the planet Monacus.  Of course, right away, Lord Gyconi said there were no such individuals on his planet.   Look, it’s a large planet and even if he is being completely honest about not knowing of them—they could still be on this planet somewhere.   Maybe not particularly in the main city or the gambling halls.   Or the gladiatorial pits.

            Yeah, right.

            Lord Gyconi isn’t exactly the most truthful of individuals and it has nothing to do with him being of an organic species.    If I were actually to place any sort of bet on the table—those three were hiding out in the big city of Millonair, probably sitting at the dining table of the head honcho himself.

            I wonder how Hot Rod is doing?   It’s been a few years now since the events on Rescalia—when we both lost Tenzen.   I haven’t been bothering to hack any of the Autobot report files since I originally filed our report on the planet.   I just hope that young mech isn’t destroying his life—he’s very special, even if he doesn’t quite realize it.   If I finally get a chance to deal with this trio of delinquents—then I’ll head back to Cybertron and see if I can find him, to catch up on everything.   Maybe I’ll try to keep him out of the trouble he seems to so easily get into?

            I tried to do that with Tenzen for ages, he always kept me on my pedes.   I’m not a young mech and I wasn’t even young when I met Tenzen, but Vector Sigma made my type of Cybertronian to be extremely durable—after all, we were made to be weapons.

            After being on Monacus for a week and listening to all the scuttlebutt around the gambling halls and gladiatorial pits—I did learn something interesting.   Apparently Shockwave had been here, at least for a little while.   Since it was the most likely thing—he was here waiting for Punch and the others to rendezvous.   I wonder if Shockwave was disappointed in the outcome on Rescalia?  I’m sure the loss of Black Roritchi was a hefty blow to his small cadre of highly intelligent loyalists.

{Journal update for entry #2006-98}

            As I continued to hear chatter about Shockwave’s visit to Monacus—one thing was clear, he had a “grand reveal” that would happen soon.   To reveal something on Monacus of all places meant that Shockwave was seeking funds that he clearly wasn’t getting out of Megatron.    The reveal would be tonight on Jallar’s Stage—not a large entertainment establishment in Millonair, but it was known to be a place where the very rich hung out.

            I’m not very rich, but I needed to get in there and find out what was happening.   Thankfully, I’m small enough to sneak around in the very old-fashioned way………the air vents and ceiling maintenance systems.   Spy work was old-school stuff for someone like me, used to sneaking around Cybertron and trying to avoid attention from the unsavory.   I mean, once someone learns you transform into a weapon, that’s like hanging a sign on your chestblock saying “abuse me, please”.   That having been said, you can imagine that I keep a close watch on my life and safety.

            What was revealed at the event on Jallar’s Stage was something that filled me with terrible sadness and incredible anger.   I think something that happened on Rescalia got an answer—and Shockwave used the body of my dearest friend to make something horrifying.   In short, I believe that there was a transmat recall of some sort in Black Roritchi’s body—since he was buried in the chest of Sky Garry, Tenzen of Tarn, when the end happened on Rescalia, that meant that Shockwave had gotten the dead or dying frame of my friend as something to utilize in his experiments.

            Shockwave revealed this mech as Black Zodiac.

            I’m attaching photos of the mech—at least as best as I could take from my hiding place in the ceiling maintenance areas.   But, in short, he looks a lot like a modified version of Tenzen in the colors of black and red, primarily—Roritchi’s colors—there was a little bit of purple, too.   And before I make anyone think that he was auctioning off this Black Zodiac mech as a slave of some sort—that was not the case.   This Black Zodiac was……..well…….the only way I can possibly describe him was as the core leader of a new galactic pirate group.   He was meant to be on the illegal end of running things—drugs, slaves, equipment, you name it. 

            And what was being auctioned off were contracts with Black Zodiac—meaning this mech would take charge of running the illegal stuff for anyone willing to sign………and their names would be struck from any sort of records.

            That meant, in simplicity, names of people who wanted these illegal things transported—well, they would no longer be associated with said items in any particular way of tracking them.   They would make a profit and never have any more risks of legal trouble to catch up with them.   Black Zodiac would be the new front for all businesses—and he would absorb any of the troubles that came along with it.   But he was also designed and programmed to deal with any and all troubles—and never be defeated.

            You think Phase Sixers were the worst the Decepticons could come up with?   Black Zodiac was beyond a Phase Sixer—in fact, he was so powerful and so far off the books that if I heard about him and never saw him……..I’d dismiss him as a hype or a legend to strike terror into Autobots or any other enemies of the Decepticon Empire.

            But Black Zodiac was real and he took everything Shockwave could learn about Outliers and Phase Sixers and Combiners all merged into one.

            Yes, I said “Combiners”.   Black Zodiac’s body was taken from the remnants of both Tenzen’s and Roritchi’s frames.   Black Zodiac split into two pieces upon his alt mode—which was a slightly sleeker plane over Tenzen’s alt mode and a small, but heavy cannon.   That way of splitting of an alt mode was very similar to the particular Phase Sixer with the designation of Overlord—so, I believe it’s clear that Shockwave had used all of the various technologies inflicted upon Decepticon (and Autobot) test subjects over the years.   And even Hot Rod’s ability—that form of charisma and compassion that belonged to that young mech, flipped into cruelty and persuasiveness more befitting a Decepticon instead………that tells me that Shockwave did, indeed, get something out of the data he had Black Zarak take from Hot Rod.   And he used it in the very worst way possible.

{Shotbomber’s Journal—entry #2010-50}

            This is likely to be my final journal entry—so, to any and all who have been reading my journal entries as catalogued here………my apologies.   I can only hope that the information I’ve provided to you in all my journal entries have helped you understand a lurking darkness that will someday need to be dealt with.

            If you are a Decepticon reading my journals—Megatron was never the threat that Shockwave will always be.   I do not know if anyone can rid us of Shockwave, but his plans for all of existence go beyond “Autobot” and “Decepticon”.   Also know—even if Black Zodiac wears the Decepticon brand and professes to be a Decepticon………he should never be trusted.   The definition of “pirate” very aptly describes what Black Zodiac and the Zodiac Organization is.   Decepticons reading this—know who you can trust amongst those who wear your brand and vet anyone else you cannot trust before going along with them on any mission or plan.

            If you are an Autobot reading my journals—be wary of this threat.  Of Shockwave and of Black Zodiac.   However the war with the Decepticons is going—if the rumours of peace that I have heard about are truly real………Black Zodiac will ALWAYS be a threat to you.   He will always be a pirate—he will always have the Zodiac Organization as his highest priority.   Powerful people throughout the universe have contracted with him—he has the funding and the crew to carry out anything he wishes.

            I have been following the Zodiac Organization for a little while now and I think they’ve noticed my interference at this time.   I heard from a reliable source that an organization assassin was sent after me and while I’ve survived a long time on my own—I really don’t think I will survive this.   And if I do, I doubt I’ll be left in any sort of condition or situation to be writing any further journal entries to this point.

            Hot Rod—if someday YOU are the one who finds my journals and are able to read everything I’ve left to you on this datapad………..I hope that you will be wary of Black Zodiac and the Zodiac Organization.   Please read some of my specialized files and learn about the Z-Energy source that Shockwave gifted to this mech.

            He is NOT Sky Garry—never let your optics think that because he looks a little like our beloved Tenzen of Tarn that there is anything whatsoever left of Tenzen inside of this mech.   Do not ever let your guard down, Hot Rod, if you ever encounter Black Zodiac.   I know how much you loved Tenzen, so very much—and I know that you have a warmth and compassion that makes everything that you are.   I know you could be weak if you even felt you could reach Tenzen inside of this mech—please believe me when I tell you that Black Zodiac has nothing of Tenzen’s Spark within him.   Black Zodiac is a monster who should be destroyed, if you have the power or opportunity to do so.

            And……….please remember me as your friend.   That’s all I wish, as I conclude this final journal entry—I hope that it one day comes into your servos Hot Rod, though I cannot predict if anyone else could hack all this stuff and read it first, which is why I’ve never said anything personal.

            Just remember……..be wary of Black Zodiac and the Zodiac Organization.

The Power of Unity

Chapter One:  Zodiac

            Because Ultra Magnus had declared himself to be in charge of the Lost Light, when the pirates took the ship—he was the one summoned to meet with the leader of the pirates.   The Lost Light itself had been dragged to a system of planets that was serving as the base of this pirate group.   It occurred to Ultra Magnus that this might be the same group of pirates that had been behind the issues that Solomus’ crew and allies had been dealing with most recently.  However—it was still incredibly puzzling that the symbol on the pirate ship and the symbol emblazoned on a lot of the prison block’s areas was the one that Thunderclash said had been Black Roritchi’s symbol.

            And Black Roritchi had been a mech from their own original universe—and with the way Cybertronians were in this particular universe, it couldn’t have been this universe’s version of him.   However—there was still no explaining the original Trylian warship that was in this universe, it had been here before they were and it was yet from another different universe.   Neither Perceptor, nor Brainstorm had any answers for the strange converging of problems making themselves known to the Lost Light here and now.

            If Ultra Magnus hadn’t been on the Lost Light all this time and seen all the strangeness the ship and crew encountered, he would never have believed all of this himself, if it were in a report that someone was telling him.   But meeting up with pirates who may have had a basis in their own original universe…….well, now—that was all par for the course for the crew of the Lost Light.   And he had come to accept all of that.

            These pirates were clearly a diverse group—Magnus recognized some of the species, there were a number of Cybertronians, mostly wearing the Decepticon brand, though he had seen one wearing an Autobot brand as he was marched to a large room that looked like a traditional “war room”.   There were stasis cuffs around his wrists, which sent periodic shocks through his system to prevent any sort of rebellion.   Although, if anyone knew who Ultra Magnus really was—those stasis cuffs were only affecting his armour, he could feel the disruption only vaguely in his core form of Minimus Ambus.

            Ultra Magnus could break out of this situation any time he wanted to.   However, he wanted to learn what the crew was up against before leading any sort of rebellion against their captors.   He’d warned the crew not to put up a fight until they learned what was going on.   Information was more important right now, moreso than action.

            Most of the crew had been accounted for………..but Cyclonus and Whirl appeared to be missing.   And, strangely enough, so were Censerre and Hot Rod.   Ultra Magnus assumed that Cyclonus and Whirl had escaped the ship and went to Rescalia to warn Megatron, but he wasn’t sure what to think about the other two—since they were Cybertronians from this universe and only joined the ship more recently.   Wherever they vanished to, they hadn’t taken Epistemus, but Censerre had survived on his own for ages and was used to hiding from others.  

            But Hot Rod?   That young mech was a puzzle—he was a little like Rodimus, but mostly not like his Rodimus of Nyon at all.   He was much more quiet and thoughtful, but he was also a warrior with very sharp instincts.   Ultra Magnus felt that these two Cybertronians might have fallen back on their survival instincts and had managed to find somewhere on the Lost Light to hide, where they wouldn’t be found in a physical location search or a sensor sweep.   Magnus just hoped that they wouldn’t stir up any trouble until he found out more about these pirates and who/what they were dealing with.

            “Ah, Ultra Magnus—you’re larger than I remember you being,” a very tall black-and-red colored mech (with purple décor) chuckled, turning to face him.   He had been doing something with a rock-like alien at a computer workstation.   On his chestblock, in the center, was the classic Decepticon symbol in a slightly glowing purple color—he had a frame design that seemed like it was vaguely familiar to Ultra Magnus, but the old Autobot soldier couldn’t place it.   “We used to be of the same height,” he chuckled, walking towards the center of the room and motioning for the current commader of the Lost Light to follow him.

            Although Magnus had Brainstorm reduce the size of the expanded armour a little—he did keep a bit of its height, so that he was taller and bulkier than he used to be, but the armour was a little reduced from the conflict on the Necrobot’s world.  So, he could see why this mech called him “bigger” than before.

            “I am afraid you may have to refresh me on your designation, because I cannot particularly remember meeting you at any point, Decepticon,” Magnus responded, keeping cool and calm.

            “Ah.   That’s because we haven’t met, personally—but I’m well aware of your activities in the past and you have encountered my agents over the millennia,” the big black-colored mech said with a rueful smile.  “I’ve gained many designations over the ages—but I began with ‘Black Zodiac’.   You can simply call me ‘Zodiac’.”

            “That must mean you’re the head of the Zodiac Organization,” Magnus responded—recognizing that, at least.

            Back in their home universe it was something of a crime organization that covered the illegal dealings of many who became anonymous on the books.   Ultra Magnus recognized that, at least, and admitted that he had encountered members of the Zodiac Organization.   He knew that, like the Galactic Council and the Black Box Consortia, the Zodiac Organization was made up of many species—though Magnus had no idea a Cybertronian was at the core leadership of the intergalactic piracy and crime organization.

            “Even so.   Now, let’s get down to business, Ultra Magnus,” Black Zodiac said, motioning for the big mech to sit down at the conference table he’d led them to.   Magnus frowned and held up his arms to show the cuffs—meaning that it would be very uncomfortable to sit and have civil discourse while handcuffed.   “Oh, those,” the black-colored mech laughed, reaching down and pressing a button on the table before him, as he moved to sit down himself.

            Magnus caught the cuffs before they could drop to the floor and just tossed them on the table, rubbing his wrists as he sat down himself.   He’d been in situations like this more times than he could count—Rodimus would’ve long since pissed Black Zodiac off, Megatron might well have lost his temper by now (even though he’d been trying to keep emotions in check ever since he came aboard the Lost Light)—so, Ultra Magnus kept calm and rational and surveyed his options in case he had to fight his way out of this war room.

            “You seem to think that I’m going to get violent or outright kill you if I’m angry,” Zodiac chuckled.   “Relax—I have no such interest in that.   In fact, what I have is a business offer or three for you and the crew.   However, I would’ve preferred if your actual Captain had come instead.”

            That meant that Black Zodiac knew that Ultra Magnus wasn’t the captain of the Lost Light.   However, since he’d alluded to only vaguely knowing about the end of the war—did Black Zodiac know about Megatron being one of the TWO Captains on the Lost Light?

            “I’m a businessman—or businessmech, if you prefer that term instead.   I interact with hundreds of species, so I use a lot of gender-specified and generally organic-use terminology,” Black Zodiac said, folding his servos before him on the table.   “Tell me, why didn’t Rodimus of Nyon come?   I do believe that the sales contract he has on the Lost Light states him as the Captain of the ship.”

            “We have made partnerships with this universe’s Galactic Alliance.   Some of our crew is on business leave on a Galactic Alliance world,” Ultra Magnus stated, simply.   It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the real truth either.   “If you know anything about Rodimus of Nyon—he can come off as excessively energetic to people, but he has charm and can talk easily to other species.”

            “I suppose that we shall just have to send a representative for him when his business is concluded—I will need his signature for what I want most of your crew,” Zodiac said with a soft sigh.   “For a very long time, I’ve had my eyes on the Unitrex-One…….I’ve been trying to keep track of it for millennia, but then I lost track of it for a short time and when I was able to get a fix on it again, I believed it had been destroyed—we came across the wreckage of the ship and I abandoned my search for it.”

            Ultra Magnus made a small huff of a sound—he didn’t want to go into details about the duplication process that could happen with quantum jumping, since the Lost Light basically abused that particular discovery in order to wind up here.

            “I don’t know the details—I try to avoid sticking my nose into things that the DJD deals with,” the black-and-red mech responded, shaking his head.   “But all of that is besides the point.   I’m glad to see the Unitrex-One is still with us, because now I can still acquire my dream of purchasing the ship.”

            Ultra Magnus found himself shaking his head before words even left his vocalizer.

            “Rodimus would never sell the Lost Light.   It was a gift from his Amica and he has fought with all of his Spark to keep that ship as his own,” the red-white-blue mech said, sternly.   The business with Getaway sealed that—Rodimus may have acted like a spoiled brat over the mutiny, but his whole focus was “getting back the ship” because it was something that Drift gave to him and he had loved Drift very much.

            “If that is true, then—perhaps he will consider my second offer?   Becoming a part of the Zodiac Organization,” the big black-colored mech chuckled.   “I protect my own—and there are many benefits in working in my organization.”

            That was something that Ultra Magnus felt was even LESS likely to happen—since Rodimus was incredibly independent.  And stubborn.   The deals they’d forged with the Galactic Alliance here in this universe were also made to suit Rodimus’ independent nature.  And even though Megatron had taken over more of the administration duties of a Captain—it was still Rodimus’ ship and he still had great influence over what the ship did and where it went.

            “I have many questions before I deliver your inquiries to the Captain—and depending on how you let us get messages out, it may take us awhile to get a response,” Magnus began, choosing his words very carefully.  “First of all—how are you here?   You do realize, this universe is not the one you were originally in, correct?”   He asked—choosing the safest of all the questions he could ask right now.

            Black Zodiac paused and made a musing gesture of rubbing his jawline and looking at the ceiling of the room.   He waved his free servo in a few thoughtful gestures, as though he were debating on how he was going to answer the question in a way that made sense.

            “I mentioned that we had come across the wreckage of the Unitrex-One before,” he began, folding his servos together before him.   “Well, consider this a lesson justly learned—quantum technology doesn’t like a lot of things, it has its own ways of existing that none of us can possibly understand.”

            Ultra Magnus had read Nautica’s report on the incident, mentioning the quantum foam that had been littered in strands around the wreckage of that other Lost Light.   They were incredibly dangerous to touch and everything could’ve been obliterated or changed in an instant.

            “Suffice it to say, whatever those dying quantum engines were doing or feeling—we got warped to wherever this is.   This was a little while back,” Zodiac continued, nodding his head sagely.   “It took only a little bit of time to get my organization back up and running, here—however, we did find other species quite willing to join and give us a home base.”

            Just then, an alien entered the room and walked over to Black Zodiac, standing on the tips of it’s odd-shaped feet to whisper in it’s commander’s audials.   Then it walked out of the room and the black-colored mech gave a wry laugh.

            “You have a very spirited crew, Ultra Magnus,” Zodiac said with a sly grin across the conference table.   “I’m sure you told them to not cause trouble, but they’re trying to anyways.   You may want to go and assure them that none of you are in any danger.”

            Magnus gave a deep groan and facepalmed himself, rising to his pedes.   Guards were assigned to take him back to the detention area where the crew was.   Black Zodiac cautioned him not to cause any trouble or more dramatic measures would need to be taken—all of which were very likely not to make Rodimus of Nyon very happy with the results.

*      *      *      *      *

            Megatron knew there was no way to keep anything from Rodimus at this point, but he didn’t expect his sparkmate to actually be the calm one in the situation.   Drift had taken the newborn sparkling and was walking her around the room, while Rodimus stood with Megatron, Cyclonus and Whirl—discussing the situation.

            “I think things are making sense now—the reason why we suddenly have Shotbomber’s ship and journals,” the flame-colored mech said with a sigh, as he stood with his arms crossed over his chestblock.    “Remember, I took a lot of solo missions when I was an Autobot during the war—and I came across members of the Zodiac Organization a few times.   Then, here, we encountered ‘pirates’—which was how the Zodiac Organization had often been branded.   The Trylians came from another universe as well.   It’s like Ion Stream and Censerre have said about multiple universes—this one has a shorter timeline, because it was ‘peeled back’ much later than our universe.   But, I’m no scientist……..however, I think that chronologically those two groups came here around the same time.   And the reason we’re here now, later than them, has to do with the timeline as well.”

            “Mmmmm,” Cyclonus murmured softly.

            “I don’t get it,” Whirl said with a shrug.

            “It was the destruction of the other Lost Light—wasn’t it?   That’s what you’re getting at?”   Megatron postulated, rubbing his jawline thoughtfully.   “The leaking of the quantum foam weakened the barriers between universes.”

            “Members of the Zodiac Organization may have been investigating the destruction of that Lost Light and got caught in an unexpected situation,” Cyclonus said, articulating it in clearer words for Whirl.   “Once they were brought here, they simply built their organization back up, finding allies here in this universe.   As we did when we came here.”

            “Yeah.   And the Trylians are not team players—they got snagged and brought here, but they were originally looking to get back to their own universe.   Megatron got a lot of info about the Trylians and it also explains a lot about why they hate us and why they don’t care about anything else,” Rodimus said with a sigh and shaking his head.   “Chronologically, we had other adventures beyond our encounter with the destroyed Lost Light, which gave us more time on the timeline—but this shorter-lived universe, well, we’re here ‘sooner’ than you’d think in their timeline.   Equivalently it’s shorter length of time than the appearance of Black Zodiac and the core leadership of the Zodiac Organization here, to them…….but a longer length to us.”

            “So, why do you think this Black Zodiac guy is here?”  Whirl mumbled, scratching his helm with a claw.

            “Shotbomber’s journal,” the flame-colored mech answered.   “I haven’t looked through all of it yet, but after seeing the probable origin of Black Zodiac—he would never have let Shotbomber out of his sight.  So, if Shotbomber’s ship and journal are here……….then so is Black Zodiac.”

            Megatron laid a servo in the center of Rodimus’ back.   Rodimus showed him that part of the journal and it was a very painful revelation, for certain.   But that information was neither here nor there right now—and neither Cyclonus or Whirl needed to know those details at the moment, when the largest concern at the moment was getting the ship and crew back from the intergalactic pirate organization.

            “So, you believe that this is the same pirate force that Solomus was dealing with?”  Cyclonus asked, curiously.

            “Yep.   I’d bet all the shanix I own on that,” Rodimus murmured, shaking his head.

            Across the room, where Drift was walking with the sparkling—she had just started chirping louder, apparently trying to summon her favorite person to come and get her.   Megatron smiled and gave a soft little chuckle.

            “I had better go fetch her, or her chirping will just get even louder,” the big grey-colored mech said, turning away from the group.   He walked over to where the white-and-grey swordsmech was walking with his newborn femmeling.   “I’ll take her now, Drift—thank you for giving her some exercise, as the case may be.”

            “Try not to spoil her too much, Megatron—and remember, she loves you very much, that is evident,” the swordsmech said, adjusting his arm so the bulkier mech could take the bundle, cradlepad and all.   “I’m going to go talk to the medics and our hosts here on Rescalia—see what can be done on our end.   I know Magnus is generally our liaison with the Galactic Alliance, but I am going to try and contact the GRP and see if we can share information on what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two:   The Grand Scheme of Things

An unknown planet, somewhere in the universe…

            “According to the ship’s roster we have—everyone that’s listed on it has been accounted for,” a mech with armour-coloring of blue and deep violet said in galactic standard to a rock-like being beside him.   “However, there are mechs and femmes that we were told are now deceased.  There was a massive set of battles that happened before the Lost Light came here, apparently.   And there are individuals here that are not listed on the roster, but Rodimus of Nyon was known for picking up strays—so, that’s not actually surprising.”

            “Given the discrepancy, it is highly likely that the ship’s roster we have is wrong,” the rock-like being stated, its voice sounding like ceramic plates scraping against each other.   “Who is the one that spoke with Zodiac?   He seems to be the one in charge at the moment, so he would have a current ship’s roster, I imagine.”

            “I have no intention of getting close to Ultra Magnus, he’s dangerous,” the mech snapped, turning his head away with a sense of shame.

            “I shall ask, then—I have no fear of a stranger I do not know,” the rock-like being snapped, a bit irritated at his companion for showing cowardice.   “Besides, they all have been warned about causing problems and I do not think this Ultra Magnus would risk the crew while its captain is away.”

            “Ultra Magnus will smash you into pebbles before you can issue a command,” the mech snapped back.

            The voices began retreating from the area—a large hangar bay where the Lost Light was currently impounded—until they were gone completely.

            “Mmmmm.   I believe we have advantage over our cousins from another universe—if we were their kind of Cybertronian, the mech may have sensed our EM fields in the area and known we were here,” Censerre said, tossing his cloak back as he and Hot Rod relaxed a little bit in the small alcove on the exterior of the Lost Light.

            “I think your cloak shielded us even more.   What’s it made out of?   It seemed to confuse their scanning equipment,” the smaller, brightly-colored mech said as he looked around cautiously.

            “I honestly do not know.   Epistemus gave it to me as a gift before we left Cybertron ages ago,” the tall, rust-red colored mech murmured.

            It was a strange memory to suddenly come back to him, now.   Epistemus was always a bit aloof, even with all of his siblings.   But he gave gifts to all of his siblings when they had decided to leave Cybertron, because of the solar incident.    He gave Solomus a sword and Primus a staff.   He gave Adaptus a special datapad with a really massive save drive on it—so that he could write down all of the information on all of the research that he would do on every single species that he studied, ideally he wouldn’t run out of dataspace for a million years.   Then he gave Mortilus, who now called himself Censerre, this particular cape that he now wore—it was a strange thing, it had a pattern-in-motion on the interior lining.   A view of the stars, the galaxies……..the detail was so unique and it seemed to be different every time that he looked at it.    Epistemus called it “The Infinite Loop”—which he felt defined his brother’s beliefs in life and death, an infinite loop of existence.

            Epistemus also knew his very tall and very thin brother was always a bit self-conscious of his frame—he felt the cape would give his brother a sense of comfort in the world.    And he was right—the cape did give Censerre a sense of comfort.   Epistemus always seemed to know what was needed and when—maybe it was an effect of his Spark Ability?   That strange gift to know everything about the location he was in at the moment.

            Did it, maybe, apply to living things, too?

            When Epistemus was around his brothers—did he suddenly know everything about them at that moment and in that place?   Did he possibly extrapolate things based upon what he’d see right there and then?

            Did that mean that this cape actually had a specific purpose—being for more than just style and comfort?   Maybe it meant that Epistemus had even seen a moment like this in his brother Mortilus’ life, where the ability to “be cloaked” would save his life and save others around him?

            His brother would always be a puzzle to him—and now he was moreso, merged with a strange multi-dimensional alien.

            “He’s really smart.   So, I’m sure he had a good reason for this thing,” Hot Rod chuckled fondly of his mentor and protector.   “As they said, Ultra Magnus told the crew not to cause trouble—so, I don’t think we should go that far.   But maybe we can find information to give back to Magnus and the others, right?”

            “We shall have to be very careful,” Censerre remarked as they both dropped down carefully to the floor of the hangar.

            “Yeah—I definitely don’t want to get caught up in any messes around here.   I need a whole lot more training before I can hope to take on an entire army.   Magnus started giving me some basic combat training—so, I do really look forward to seeing what more he can teach me!”   The flame-colored mech chuckled.   “He’s an amazing warrior—I had no idea that fighting skills could be so………bound by rules, I guess.   He uses not just force, but the laws of force and kinetics, in combat.”

            Censerre nodded, smiling.   That was something Solomus always said, too—while his brother was a mech of peace and justice, he was also a warrior.   He had combat skills unrivalled by most Cybertronians—Solomus claimed it was their father Primus’ gift, so that he could fight to maintain his sense of peace and justice.   However, Censerre was curious to know if Ultra Magnus had revealed to Hot Rod his secret of being a smaller mech inside a large suit of armour?   Censerre knew the whole crew knew of that, but both Hot Rod and Epistemus only just recently joined the crew—they were still deciding where they would go.   It was likely, with Epistemus’ ability, he already knew Ultra Magnus’ secret.   But being a “secret” of a sort, it was unlikely that Minimus Ambus would straight outright tell a nearly-complete stranger.   Censerre only knew, because he’d had the opportunity to meet Minimus Ambus.

            “Do you think it’s safe to try and do some sneaky spying now?”   The young, brightly-colored mech asked, looking up at the tall, older mech.

            “Yes, but let’s be very careful,” Censerre responded, quietly.

*      *      *      *      *

            “She really does like you the most,” Rodimus chuckled, leaning on Megatron’s shoulder as he watched his sparkmate cradle the newfemme in his big arms.   The big grey mech was seated in one of the large loungers that was in a rounded “meeting space” kind of area.   There were a varying set of sizes for the seven chairs that were in this rounded area, clearly it was meant to welcome species of varying sizes visiting their planet.  

            Rescalians walked by, some waved pleasantly and many were very curious at a “baby robot” being held by the co-captain of the Lost Light.   The seating area had a decorative waterfall and plants that was situated behind where Rodimus and Megatron were—so, the waterfall made a soothing “background noise”.

            The tiny purple-and-electric blue little femme was cooing and chirping quite happily.   She had an amazingly tight grip (for such a tiny thing) on Megatron’s foredigit and he was letting her think she was able to shake his servo all on her own, by moving it gently with her motions.

            “But that’s not a bad thing.   You know, you missed out on a lot of love in your life, so you deserve someone like this—who loves you without any reservations or conditions whatsoever,” the flame-colored mech continued, nuzzling the top of his lover’s helm fondly.   “I was lucky—I’ve had love in my life, so I get it.   But you were badly treated from the moment you came online.   Make this count, big guy—she knows nothing about you, except that you’re her sire.   Don’t screw it up!”   He laughed softly.

            “I intend to, but we are here to talk about what we’re going to do about the Lost Light—so sit down in that chair next to me,” Megatron said, though he was smiling down at their newfemme as he said it.   “We’re in something of a quandry.   But we’ve lucked out in that while no one is sending any messages—audial or glyph—because they’re being monitored where they’re at, there’s no monitor on a glyph sent via Spark-bond.”

            “Ratchet wouldn’t have sent more than what he did—he’s not the type to regularly use any sort of messaging systems.   But it helps,” Rodimus murmured, leaning back in the plush chair and folding his arms over his chestblock.    “What Black Zodiac wants is the ship under legal means.   So, this works to our advantage—he won’t kill me, because he needs my legal blessing.”

            “Why, though?”   Megatron murmured, tilting his head with puzzlement.   “Even if he uses a lot of legal loopholes around to get the ship—he’s still a Decepticon by design, why wouldn’t he just take it?  He quite obviously he took it from the moon of Rescalia as hostage bartering.”

            “You know, there’s still a lot that we don’t know about the ship.   We’ve learned it was the Unitrex-One, an experimental deep space exploration vessel with quantum engines, but something about this whole situation definitely means that there’s a reason he needs permission to take control of the ship,” Rodimus sighed, shaking his head.    He could only think that the resulting logical reason for that would mean something along the lines of the ship having some sort of sentience and the name on the owner’s contract probably tells the ship it shouldn’t function for anyone but that individual.

            Except, how did that explain Getaway’s mutiny, unless………?   First Aid said that by the time they rejoined the ship, a lot of strange things were occurring—not just everything Getaway was doing (such as having Froid and Sunder take out any obstacles in the way), but the ship seemed to no longer be performing up to expectations.   Groove had made the comment (once the mutiny had been dealt with, giant Primus was dealt with, and various interviews with crew had taken place in the wake of the event on New Cybertron) that he thought the ship “felt sad”, although no one wanted to believe anything like that—Groove was sometimes out in his own personal little world.

            If the ship DID HAVE some sort of sentience—even a simplistic growth A.I. personality within its designwork—maybe that went a long way to describing some of the oddities they’d all experienced on the ship over the years.

            “Megs—what if the ship is some kind of ‘alive’?” The flame-colored mech said, quietly, leaning forward in the chair and putting his elbows on his knee-joints as he stared at the floor in front of him.   “Maybe that’s why he needs to have proof of ownership?”

            Megatron was about to retort that the very concept was ridiculous, but then—ever since he came aboard the Lost Light, everything was so bizarre and so weird that all of that became his “new normal”.   And if the weird was now the new normal……….then what if the ship did have some sort of rudimentary sentience and it acknowledged Rodimus as “the Captain” and therefore worked best when Rodimus “was there”?    It would tend to explain a lot of the weird little odditites that’ve happened over the years.   Things that couldn’t be explained by normal means.   Maybe Groove was right that the ship could feel sad or happy—and as such would perform better or worse?

            It wasn’t just that, though—if the ship really did have a sort of sentience, did that mean they were “enslaving” the Lost Light, making it perform to THEIR whims?

            That kind of thought and idea really DID NOT sit well with Megatron.

            “Yeah, I see those gears turning in your brain, big guy,” Rodimus chuckled softly as he got to his pedes and stretched.   “If that really is the case, then we need to do a better job of protecting our own—we can remedy that once we get back the Lost Light and our crew.   And I think I’ve got a plan, but you’re REALLLLLLLLY gonna hate it, Megs—because it’s dangerous and quite possibly the only chance we’ve got.”

            “Oooh, dangerous—that is my favorite word of all time,” a familiar voice chortled, making Rodimus startle and very nearly stumble over into Megatron’s lap, on top of their femmeling.

            The flame-colored mech recovered quickly and turned to face Whirl with a forced grin, trying not to show how peeved he was at being shocked like that.

            “Whirl, is there something I can do for you?”  Rodimus asked, trying NOT to say it through gritted dentae.

            “I wanted to see the bitlet,” the former Wrecker said, spreading his arms in a shrug of non-chalance.   “You were keeping her all cooped up in that room and we couldn’t come in to see her.   I wanted to see what she looked like—since, you know, my last interaction with a sparkling was apparently a bunch of adorable scarlet-toned scraplets using camouflage.”

            Both Rodimus and Megatron’s optics rolled beneath their colored optical glass.

            “Can you be nice, Whirl?   Just for my sake?   I really don’t want to see Megatron flatten you for the femmeling’s amusement,” Rodimus said in a dry voice.

            “Have you seriously not even given her a name yet?” Whirl gasped.   “Rodders, I’m shocked!   She’s already a few days old, I think she needs a name, you know?”

            “We’re still pondering designations,” Megatron said, trying to ease the tense situation.  He could tell that Rodimus was acting on something of a “maternal instinct” right now.   Though Whirl was good at trying anyone’s patience, under any circumstances.   “But come over and see her while Rodimus goes to talk to Drift and Cyclonus—he’s already said whatever he wants to do will make me angry, so he may as well talk with one of them about his plan, first.”

|Rodimus, just go—while I have him distracted with our femmeling for the moment.   You don’t want him adding to a plan-making session, I’m certain………I’ll call you if she needs you right away.|

            Megatron’s glyph-message was calming, so, Rodimus just gave a sigh and walked away, sending a glyph to Drift to ask where he was at.   He heard Whirl give a high-pitched cooing sound as he walked down the colorfully stoned pathway.  Rodimus rolled his optics again—Whirl could be a real weirdo, but the flame-colored mech was pretty sure that he wouldn’t make an aft of himself in front of Megatron.   And, there was the fact that, Whirl did have an odd sense of protectiveness towards “the weak”, or what he might classify as “weak”.

            Rodimus found Drift in a conference room—which was also where Cyclonus, First Aid and Nickel all were, too.   There was a holoscreen conference table in the center of the room and they were talking to representatives of the Galactic Alliance and the Galactic Ranger Patrol.   He quietly sat next to Drift at the table and listened to what was going on.    He recognized Harik Judur, the Galactic Alliance President, but didn’t recognize the person in uniform on the screen next to him.

            [Drift, who’s the guy next to President Judur?]  He asked in a communique to his Amica.

            [Fleet Admiral Salvein.   We’ve never spoken visually with him, only through textual communications—except Magnus.  Magnus has visually spoken to Admiral Salvein.]  The swordsmech responded.

            The person on the screen was of some sort of beast-like species—to compare the kind of beast to an Earth beast, he looked like an anthropomorphized deer of some sort (such as perhaps an elk or reindeer).   But he was massive—he looked incredibly muscular in the form-fitting GRP command uniform of wine-red and black, with white highlights.   There were a number of sparkling accoutrements (likely his rank badges) near his left shoulder on the uniform—and he had a massive crown of antlers on his head, likely 20-points or more.   Definitely no hat for this guy!

            Rodimus got the feeling he’d probably be a formidable foe in physical combat.

            {Thank you for joining us, Captain Rodimus—is there anything you want to fill us in on with the situation?}   Harik Judur’s image said as the eyes on the holographic screen moved towards where he was sitting.

            “Well, I think I have a random guess or three on maybe why they need ME, specifically, to hand over the ship by way of legal means.   I can’t really say for certain if it’s why, but I can tell you that they DO need me alive—so, I think I’m going to have to go to them,” the flame-colored mech sighed, shaking his head softly.   “Unfortunately, that means my newborn comes along, too—since she was just born, she needs my frame to process her fuel……..think of it as like you organics’ form of ‘breast-feeding’.”

            “Rodimus—you’ve had stupid ideas before and this is one of the stupidest,” Drift said, frankly, while every emotion in his EM field was saying: “there’s no way that’s even happening”.   “Even if you do sign anything turning the ship over to him—there’s no saying he won’t dispose of you the moment he gets what he wants.”

            “Drift, did you hand over any of the information that we have on the Zodiac Organization to these guys?   I mean, it may be info from our universe, but there’s no indication that Black Zodiac would start a whole new organization from scratch and do things completely differently here,” Rodimus asked, deflecting his Amica’s comment with seriousness.

            “That information…” Drift began, warily.

            “Cyclonus?”  The co-captain of the Lost Light quiered, turning towards the somber purple mech at the end of the table.

            “He did.   But, again, what Drift had was personal information from his own datapads—most of the rest of our information will be on the ship,” Cyclonus responded immediately.

            “Yeah, but that information is enough.   Here’s the rest you need to know right now…….” Rodimus said, plugging Shotbomber’s datapad into the table’s terminal area and flipping through files and dropping them into Galactic Alliance boxes for readability.   “I went through and made a Galactic Standard edition of some of the files I was given by an old friend.   Trust me, if you guys tried to read our language, your brains might fry.   It’s just the basic facts of Black Zodiac and the Zodiac Organization, as they were in our universe.”

            Rodimus had been a little picky-and-choosy about what he translated to give them.  There were some personal things in Shotbomber’s journal and……….the flame-colored mech wasn’t yet ready to admit that Black Zodiac may have been created from the body of a mech that he once loved very much.   But what he did choose to translate was important information about Black Zodiac, himself, as an individual—and some of the things the Zodiac Organization had been known to do back in their home universe.   The co-captain of the Lost Light figured that THAT would be the most important information to give to the Galactic Alliance right now.

            {Thank you, Rodimus.   Have you thought about what we can do for you in this instance?}  Harik Judur asked, tilting his head curiously.

            “It’s difficult to say.   To have a Galactic Ranger Patrol escort would draw unnecessary attention—we don’t know for certain if they know that Cyclonus and Whirl escaped or if they’re simply waiting on Rescalia’s moon for us to contact the ship and say we’re ready to go,” Rodimus mumbled, drumming digits on the table before him.   “I assume Magnus gave out a cover story that we were here and some of us were sent as ‘ambassadorial staff’ to Rescalia, to speak with members of the Galactic Alliance.   I’m sure the Zodiac Organization knows we’re a part of it—since we were assisting Solomus deal with ‘pirates’ back on Meb.”

            {It is my assumption you used one of your personal shuttlecraft to go down to Rescalia, am I correct?}  Fleet Admiral Salvein said—his deep voice reverberating through the speakers on the table.

            Rodimus was not expecting a deer-type creature to have such a deep and commanding voice—it was a lot like Megatron’s.   Or Optimus’.   Or Magnus’.

            “Yeah,” the flame-colored mech answered.   Much to Megatron’s argument that they were NOT taking the RodPod, they wound up taking the RodPod.   It got chuckles from the native Rescalians who met them at the landing area.   Plus, it’s unusual round shape meant that it didn’t take up a lot of horizontal space in a parking area.

            {Then they will certainly be waiting for you to return in said shuttlecraft,} the Fleet Admiral said with a curt nod.   {But unless you left a list of what you were doing, who was going and all of your full itinerary—you have the potential to limit who goes back with you.   It is not unusual for an ambassadorial party to only have three individuals in it.}

            Rodimus’ intake made an “o” shape as he realized exactly what Salvein was getting at.   There was no need for everyone to go back to the moon to “rejoin the ship”.   Basically none of this trip was laid out on paper or in records.   Unless the Zodiac Organization tortured it out of the crew—they had no idea who was missing.   And Ultra Magnus could make his “truth” very vague, if he so chose, especially if he were trying to protect others.

            The only real person that would be known to be going to the surface would have been Rodimus himself.  The Captain of the ship and the owner (in documents) of the Lost Light.   It would’ve been a natural assumption, since he was not on the ship.   It may have been inferred that Drift would be along—since back in their home universe, it was known that Drift and Rodimus were close friends and that Drift had purchased the Lost Light FOR Rodimus.   And Rodimus had always intended to take Drift back in this plan, anyways—Drift COULD cause serious damage and once he got going in a fight, it was harder to mitigate his destructive potential.  Any true Decepticon would know that.

            If they were going to have to fight their way somewhere, Drift would be the best one to have at his side.

            So, it didn’t mean that Rodimus was required to return with all of the people he went to the planet with—especially if it may not even be known.   If Black Zodiac wanted Rodimus for his legal signature—that may mean that he didn’t even know that Megatron was a member of the crew!   Apparently Black Zodiac got shunted to this universe investigating the “other” Lost Light—at least that’s what Shotbomber’s journal said.   The last, incredibly personal journal entry, a verbal one…….one that had been coded for only Hot Rod to listen to.

I don’t see much from my prison cell.   But I knew something bad happened when the ship seemed to be in an uproar.   I don’t think I noticed the shift of a quantum drive making a spasm of some sort.   When others walked past my cell, I heard them say that the Unitrex-One had been destroyed and it looked like the DJD—but there was some sort of quantum incident and they were still trying to get bearings on their location.

I cannot believe that Hot Rod—although, I should probably call him by that new designation of ‘Rodimus’ that I’ve heard about—is dead.    Out of anything………all things……….in this universe that could try to kill him, I don’t believe the Decepticon Justice Division would be the one of them to succeed.

Oh, wait.   Someone just said something fantastic.   Our coordinates are the same, but everything around us is different.   Does that mean multiple universes really CAN exist?   Not that I would wish Black Zodiac on anybody else in existence……..but at least he’s gone from my universe.    Heh, and here comes my daily taskmaster now, too—I doubt I’ll be surviving today’s ministrations, but my journal data storage is also full.   So, either way—this is truly my last message.

Hot Rod—Rodimus—if you ever get to read my journals one day, I hope they find you well and happy.   I think of you often and wonder what you’re doing.  Hearing that you took a ship and a ton of Cybertronians off-world to find the Knights of Cybertron…?   Tenzen would be very jealous right now—and possibly as pleased as he could be that you decided to go off and fulfill your dreams.   I hope you find them.   Tenzen would love that.   And I’d be very happy if you got to reach a happy ending in your life, as well.   Thank you for being my friend, once upon a time, and farewell.

            The other Lost Light encountering the DJD had been an event that happened BEFORE Megatron came aboard.   It wasn’t just that, but they hadn’t exactly advertised all of their exploits here in this universe.   The Galactic Alliance only learned of them from worlds allied with them that the crew of the Lost Light had helped out.   It didn’t seem as if the Zodiac Organization had as far of a reach here in this universe, as they had back in the original one………but, then, Black Zodiac had to start all over again.   He likely hadn’t built up his empire fully yet—so, he had information lines that had massive chasms in them.

            That was a benefit right now.   There was the chance for an element of surprise.   And, maybe, all Rodimus needed was just a simple plan, a couple of carefully chosen companions—and for Megatron to work on something bigger while they were gone.   Megatron was an asset at this moment—the biggest asset—and Rodimus wasn’t going to play his trump card just yet.   The only thing that Megatron wasn’t going to like about this plan was that Rodimus would have to take their newborn sparkling with them.   There was no way around that whatsoever.   She was a newborn and couldn’t consume standard Energon—Rodimus’ frame reprocessed his consumed Energon into something that she could consume, hence his adapted portion of frame called “export fuel intake” (or fuel port).

            From that other Rodimus Prime’s journals—and it happened to be the same location on his frame, too—it was a hidden area of the frame that became known to a mech (or femme’s) systems, once they began carrying a sparkling.   On Rodimus’ frame, that export fuel intake port was in his left shoulder area, on his chestblock, close to the shoulder-joint.   And, for the most part, it was more comfortable for the newborn femmeling to fuel when Rodimus was reclined or laying down.

            Given that the flame-colored mech was absolutely certain Black Zodiac wouldn’t harm him until he got what he wanted—the Unitrex-1 aka the Lost Light—Rodimus knew that the femmeling would be safe for the time being.   It was going to be a delicate balance and he had no idea how much of a jerk he could be to the leader of the Zodiac Organization before the mech decided that none of this was worth it.

            And THAT was the other reason that he wanted Drift with him.   Drift would back him up and also maybe step on his pedes if he thought his Amica was going too far.

            And since Rodimus planned on being his old, infuriating self………he couldn’t possibly take Whirl with him—that would be too much.

            “Rodimus—is everything okay?”  Nickel asked, curiously.   Since she didn’t know the entire crew as well as most of the rest of the crew knew each other, she wasn’t sure where his head was right now.

            “Sorry, thinking and planning.   I’m gonna need Megatron’s input, no matter how much he hates the idea……..but I think that Admiral Salvein is right.   I only need two other people with me—and one is definitely Drift,” the flame-colored mech answered, shaking his head softly.   “Not just because he’s my Amica or anything sappy like that, but I know exactly how dangerous he can be when he starts in on a fight.   I’m going to rely on Ratchet and Velocity being there—so, I don’t need you or First Aid to come along……..”

            “For Primus’ sake, please don’t tell me you’re going to take Whirl!”   First Aid gasped, sharply, burying his faceplate in his servos.

            “Not even at the front of my mind.   And I want Megatron here to make the better plan,” Rodimus laughed warmly.   “He’s Megatron and I think most of us at this table knows what that means.   So, by default and by my admiration of his combat skills—Cyclonus, you’re heading out with me and Drift.”

            “As I expected,” the purple mech said, his voice the equivalent of a shrug.

            “President……..Fleet Admiral………Megatron’s going to probably need you guys’ help as our backup.   He was the leader of one of the greatest armies in our kinds’ past—he’s going to be the better plan-maker, but I need to go and stall for time until Megatron gets that plan ready,” Rodimus said, seriously, looking at the two Galactic Alliance leaders on the holoscreens.   “If we don’t get moving in a certain amount of time, pirates may be coming for us and I don’t think we want to tip our hand yet.   All of this is pretty precarious, but we’re all survivors of a long, long war……..it’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

            {Very well, we shall work with Captain Megatron on the rescue resolutions,} Salvein responded with a dismissive wave of his 4-digit, odd-looking, deer-like hand.

            {Best of luck to you, Rodimus,} Harik Judur added with a solemn nod.

*      *      *      *      *

            Rodimus figured the best way to get Megatron to listen to his plan without initially trying to shoot it down was to put him in a good mood with a little interfacing.   It couldn’t be anything long or intense—for one, there was a sleeping sparkling in the room!—but Megatron hadn’t been able to frag him for a few months now (because carrying got too heavy and hard on Rodimus in the last two months to even try for any interfacing), so he figured it would be a nice little treat before he said what he was going to say.

            It was something quick with cuddling afterwards.

            “All right, so………I’ve got to go to Black Zodiac, there’s no other option,” the flame-colored mech began, rubbing one of the large black servos resting on his chestplating.

            “Absolutely not,” Megatron huffed, nuzzling Rodimus’ neck cabling from the back.

            “You sound exactly like Drift, Megs,” Rodimus laughed softly and warmly.   “Yes, I do.   Right now, I’m sure Magnus is doing his best to keep things handled, but if our theories are right that he needs me to hand the ship over to him—that says that he knows I am definitely one of the ones on the planet here.   By default, that little girl’s gotta come with me, too………but I’ll have Drift and Cyclonus and I trust both of them—and our crew—if it comes down to a fight.”

            “We’ll find another way, we just…” Megatron began, his embrace tightening a little.

            “No.   This is the best way—I’m a distraction and YOU need to make a plan of assault.   You’ll have the best of the Galactic Ranger Patrol behind you,” the flame-colored mech said, serious, wiggling a bit so he could turn around in his beloved’s arms and face him.   He brought an arm up and laid one of his bright yellow servos on the side of Megatron’s faceplate.   “I don’t think Black Zodiac knows about you.   Think about it—if he was investigating the wreckage of that other Lost Light and got zapped to this universe, that happened before you were added to my ship.   He has no clue about a fraction of our acquired crew and how they got there, so he probably assumes that I pick up strays—which I do.”

            Megatron made a disgruntled rumbling sound and Rodimus chuckled as he felt the vibration of his lover’s frame against him.

            “Magnus and I have made you keep that fusion cannon—YOU ARE A DANGEROUS MECH.   And while I may not be able to fight a mech like Black Zodiac, I know that you can,” the younger co-captain of the Lost Light chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around Megatron and hugged him tight.   “I know your Spark, Megatron of Tarn—I know what a good mech you really are.   We don’t know what your primal regression was, but it was triggered by needles—so, I don’t think you need to worry about just suddenly breaking down again.   Black Zodiac isn’t the type to throw a handful of needles at you—and if he really is greater than a Phase Sixer, only someone like you has a chance of fighting him.   Someone who can play as dirty as he does.   Just because you’re a good guy now, I’m sure you know how to fight as underhandedly as the Decepticon Leader you used to be did.”

            Before Megatron could make a retort, Rodimus slapped a servo over his intake.

            “Megatron of Tarn took on Chaos all by himself.   The Chaos that absorbed over the entire forces of the Decepticons couldn’t take Megatron,” he said, firmly.   “And you didn’t even flinch or complain or anything when Prime asked you to do it.   You just did it.”

            He removed his servo from Megatron’s intake and reached up to give him a good, long and wet kiss.

            “You are Megatron and you are unstoppable,” Rodimus said, with so much love and warmth in his voice.

            Megatron didn’t know what he could say to that.    He knew that they were backed into a corner and from a tactical standpoint Rodimus was actually doing the right thing.   If Megatron weren’t involved with Rodimus—if they didn’t just forge a sparkling together!—he wouldn’t be acting like this.   He was acting from emotions and that was something Megatron of Tarn tried not to do throughout his long life.

            Megatron wrapped his arms around Rodimus, holding him tight.

            “Please be careful.   I love you,” the big grey mech whispered softly.

            “Me too, big guy……….me too,” Rodimus murmured, hugging his beloved tightly in return.