Dining on Ashes

By Matt “Talon” Kirkby & Tony “Thunder” Klepack

    “We’ve been flattened.” Sonimus Prime standing amid the sparking consoles and flickering displays of the main command center. “The worst defeat yet.”  Only a handful of the command center’s systems were still working. The air was hazy with smoke.
    Sonimus went over recent events in her mind again, wondering how it had all come down to this... their leader, a prototype Gobot body shell that had believed it was the reincarnation of Optimus Prime had successfully lead them against the planet of Dnema, a Decepticon base and then several smaller raids against Decepticon worlds in the weeks since. He had helped restore many of the Autobots faith she had to admit, although she’d felt envy at him for that--it had been her job, her destiny and he’d come along and assumed her position instead.
    But then, just scant hours ago, a force of vessels had appeared out of nowhere, utilizing some sort of advanced stealth technology to evade their base defenses. And they had lain waste to Oberon, targeting the planetoid with unbelievable precision--destroying valuable resources and, more importantly, Autobot lives.
    And that’s when it had gotten strange... she had come upon several dead Autobots in a corridor to the main command center, including Quickmix, Jackpot and Raggletag. Oddly, they had seemed to have died from laser blasts instead of the explosions and cave-ins.
    Proceeding to the command center, she had stumbled upon Optimus giving orders for the Autobots to continue fighting even though she--and the others around him--knew it was hopeless. By continuing to fight, he would have surely guaranteed all of their deaths--the unidentified enemy would have kept up the assault as long as there were signs of activity and resistance emanating from the wrecked base.
    And so she had made her choice... she drew her weapon and fired it, killing Optimus outright... to guarantee her brethren’s survival and allow them to have a future that didn’t end in the cold void of oblivion.     
    She would have never been able to kill the real Optimus Prime--a commander she had looked up, worshiped... loved. But she had known from the start, that this was not Optimus--despite the mostly positive influence he’d had on the Autobots of late--and she had chosen to end his life, for the good of the others.
    At least, that was what she’d kept telling herself...but a small part of her mind was terrified by the prospect that maybe there had been more to it. Maybe her envy of this Transformer had helped seal his fate when the time came... Maybe, she could have done more to have stopped him without resorting to fatally wounding him? Had it all been for her Autobot brethren or had part of it been for her own personal satisfaction?
    “Casualties are estimated to be exceptionally heavy,” she heard Scoot say. She looked up and listened as he continued. “Even without accurate figures, we can assume that much.”
    A shower of sparks wreathed Sonimus as a console succumbed to battle damage and overloaded.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
    “It’s difficult to be certain,” Scoot explained, moving to allow a technician access to the console he had been standing near. “But I would guess that most of Oberon is gone.” His tone sounded bleak. “Power systems are shorting out--what few survived the initial bombing. Sub-space comlinks are down, the base comm system is down.  Hell, everything is down.”
    She noticed Scoot--and the others whom had actually been there when she slew Optimus earlier--were slightly on edge. She knew without their saying it that it was her actions that warranted the caution in their minds--not that she could truly say she blamed them. Had the positions been reversed she could easily understand their reactions to her now.
    “Oberon is a graveyard now, but we few survived. Other Autobots must have too. We just have to find them, re-establish contact with the rest of the base.”
    Scoot laughed bitterly--and Jazz looked up from another console, startled by the sound. “This hardened bunker barely survived the bombardment, Sonimus. We might be the only survivors!”
    “No, Scoot, that cannot be.” Sonimus sounded confident, noting that Jazz and the other technicians had paused in the work to listen to her. “We Autobots are survivors. I refuse to believe that we’re the only ones left here...”
    Noting the other’s resigned expression, she added, “Victory will yet be ours, Scoot. We’ve been down before... but as long as we have our lives, we will endure. And sooner or later, we will prevail in our struggle.” More sparks wreathed her as another console exploded. “This I swear to you all.”
            *            *            *
    “Looks like this region is stable.” Beachcomber finished crawling out of the tiny tunnel and stood up, stretching his cramped limbs. “I think we can rest here a moment.”
    Steeljaw growled softly.
    “All right,” Beachcomber replied, “I can rest here. I’m not as suited as you are for crawling through these narrow tunnels.”  Too many of Oberon’s caverns and tunnels had collapsed during the recently ended attack. Beachcomber and the Cassettibots had barely missed being flattened by tons of rock in one crumbling corridor. Unfortunately, the Headmaster Siren whom had been accompanying them, had not been so fortunate--the rock had crushed him to death, his body a twisted wreck when they had uncovered part of it.
    Steeljaw pawed at something, a glint of metal half-buried under rock. His digging uncovered more of the object--a hand attached to a crushed arm.
    “This is worse than Autobot City,” the geologist moaned as he averted his gaze from the corpse. “Much worse.”

    “Can you contact the main command center?” Grid Iron asked as the sounds of muttered curses finally stopped.
    “No,” Ironhide growled. “This slagging piece of rust-ridden scrap is refusing to transmit.” He slammed his fist onto the console. “I swear it’s doing it on purpose!”
    “Nonsense,” Throttle argued calmly. “The AI program simply is not yet that intelligent.” He approached the console and began typing commands into it. “Teletraan-VII, are you functional?”
    No response.
    “Well, that answers my question,” Ironhide grumbled. “That slagging machine isn’t intelligent enough to know if it’s even on-line!”
    “Ironhide, this is not the time,” Grid Iron warned. “Throttle, can you get Teletraan back on-line?”
    “I am certain that it is already on-line...maybe if I adjust this setting...”
    As the scientist began typing fresh commands into the console, Grid Iron turned to the only other Autobot present. ”Why don’t you go see if you can find us a clear route back to the main base?” he suggested. “There must be a corridor still open.”
    “I doubt it, boss,” Ironhide replied, shaking his head grimly. “I already made a check and the main access corridor is completely blocked by debris.  We’re cut off from the base.”
    “Well, there are worse places to be,” Grid Iron said with a weak smile. “This entire sector was designed to be self-contained.”  Just in case any of the experiments undertaken in this research complex got out of hand. “We’ve still got lots of energon rations and emergency parts...supplies which other Autobots may be in dire need of.” He paused a moment. “I know that we’re on the far side of Oberon, but we do have emergency access tunnels.”
    “Blocked,” Throttle told him, without looking up from the console. “All blocked. Our structure was targeted with insider precision.”
    “Yeah, but who bombed us?” Ironhide demanded.
    “Sensor readings were unclear,” Teletran-VII’s voice announced as the console hummed loudly. “Identity of attacking vessels unknown.”
    “Slagging Decepticons!”
    Grid Iron heard Ironhide’s murmur clear enough. “Or it could have been the Disciples...we don’t know. In any case, they’re gone now. We have to make contact with other survivors. Teletraan, can you establish communications with the main command center?”
    “Attempting to access...hard-line connections broken...attempting to access secondary links...negative response. Attempting to access sub space relays...negative response. Attempting standard radio transmission...signal transmitted...negative response from main command.”
    “That doesn’t mean everyone is dead,” Grid Iron said harshly. “The comm system is just down.”
    “No life signs detected within Autobase: Oberon,” Teletraan reported after Throttle tapped a control. “Internal security sensor grid is malfunctioning...scan incomplete.”
    “Run a full diagnostic on yourself and on all Autobase systems,” Throttle ordered.
    “Ironhide, I’m still waiting for that tunnel check.”
    “Right, boss. I’m on it.”
    “And if all the sub-surface tunnels are blocked, check out the surface access air locks. Maybe we can drive across the surface.”  Or at least try signaling the main base--Oberon’s surface was barren and lifeless, but Transformers could survive there for reasonable periods of time...traveling across the surface would be difficult at best, but it was possible. Grid Iron refused to believe that he and the others here were the only survivors.

    “They say that any landing that you can walk away from is a good one,” Sizzle’s voice muttered, “but that was as far from a good landing as I have ever had the misfortune to experience!”
    Hot Rod lifted his head--and winced as Oberon whirled around him. “Hey, not so loud,” he groaned.
    “Good to see you made it, kid.” Topspin stood up. “That makes a grand total of five survivors.”
    “Fi-five?” With Sizzle’s help, Hot Rod made it to his feet. “Only five of us?” He looked around the hanger--or what was left of it--as the few ceiling lights flickered weakly.
    The wall by the hatch was blocked by fallen rock, which had also spilled across the floor. Almost every shuttle and Defender was either crushed under debris or else otherwise ruined. Smoke was rising from fires burning in half-wrecked shuttles or in breeched storage tanks, the flickering light adding to that of what few light panels were still operating.
    “Man, what hit us?”
    “Looks like half of Oberon,” Hound told him. “As far as we can tell, most of Autobase has been blasted apart.”
    “Did we get any of the Decepticons?” Hot Rod demanded.
    “No idea,” Topspin replied. “None of us made it out of this hanger.”  His gaze rested on the mangled wreck of three shuttles which had been fused into a nearly shapeless mass. “Nobody made it outside.”
    Hot Rod moaned again.
    “I’ve sent Twin Twist to try and re-open some of the collapsed tunnels. Hopefully, we can
re-reestablish contact with other survivors and try to dig ourselves out.”
    Hound shook his head. “I don’t know if we can.”  Then he pointed to the smashed window of the flight control station. “I’m going up there to see if I can get any local systems back online.”
 
    “And to think, I used to like planets,” Beachcomber muttered as he crawled through another
rubble-choked tunnel. “But this is getting to be too much. It feels like the entire planet is about to come down on our heads.”  And it probably was...he had been feeling tremors for some time--only minor ones, true, but larger ones were sure to follow now that Oberon had been bombed so thoroughly.
    Steeljaw growled something.
    “No, I don’t know where we are going...we’ve gotten lost.”
    “I didn’t think you got lost,” Rewind’s voice echoed out of the compartment where Beachcomber had stored the cassette-mode Autobots and several of his brothers.
    “Well, I do,” Beachcomber admitted in a sheepish voice.  “I hadn’t really explored this region before and half the tunnels I did know have collapsed. We’ve been traveling through a few natural ones and ones which opened up during the bombing... so, by now, we could almost be anywhere.”
    Steeljaw growled again.
    “Tremor!” Beachcomber wailed as the ground trembled underneath him. “Hang on!” He felt himself thrown to one side and then the other of the tunnel as the shaking got worse.
    The ground in front of him erupted with a roar and a massive metallic monster heaved its bulk into view, its piercing roar echoing through the confines of the tunnel.
    “Twin Twist!” Beachcomber shouted, after he lifted his head to stare at the beast he was certain had come from Oberon’s bowels to devour him. “What are you doing?”  A rock, loosened by the vibrations chose that moment to fall and bounce off Beachcomber’s head. “You could’ve killed me! Us!”
    “I didn’t think anyone was around,” the Jumpstarter replied in a sheepish voice as he transformed back to robot mode. “This area is supposed to be solid rock, according to the data in my nav banks. You’re not supposed to be here.”
    Beachcomber sighed. “Well, I am. We are. Where are we?”
    “Where? I thought you never got lost--”
    “Don’t start on me, please. Just tell me where you were when you started drilling.”
    “Hanger bay seven-A. About three hundred meters behind me.” He pointed back down the tunnel he drilled.
    “So that would put us here and then I thought we were there,” Beachcomber muttered to himself, frowning. “Okay, I know exactly where we are right now. Twin Twist, if you drill straight up you should emerge in corridor five-nineteen...about forty meters from Medbay.”
    “I can do that. Hot Rod needs medical attention.”
    “Hot Rod is with you?”
    “He’s back in the hangar...unconscious when I left. Topspin found three survivors so far.”
    “Well, get digging to Medbay. I’ll go to the hangar and tell them where you are and then we’ll try to follow you.” He paused. ”I don’t suppose the hangar is functional?”
    “Most of it is,” Twin Twist told him, “but the doors and most of the shuttles are buried under rock.”
    “Damn,” Beachcomber said. “Come on, Steeljaw.” He stepped into the tunnel Twin Twist had dug. “At least this one is easier to move through...”

    “We’ve got power!” Scoot exclaimed.
    A console exploded in a storm of sparks.
    “I can see that,” Sonimus replied. “Is the main grid coming back?”
    “Main reactor appears to be operating, though at low levels. Utaxx must have survived.”
    “I wonder how many others did?” Highbeam asked, looking up from the console he had taken over. “I’m still not getting much on sensors. The internal grid is down and most of the external systems were vaporized.”
    “Comm system?”
    “Almost back...I think I can get a basic audio system running. No promises, though.”
    “Do your best, Jazz.”
    “Sonimus,” Scoot said in a low voice, “do you have a plan for evacuating Oberon?”
    She looked at him. “Evacuate?” she asked, voice loud enough to carry. “Why should we evacuate?”
    “Because Oberon is in ruins,” Scoot told her quietly.
    “Exactly,“ she replied. “And that makes the perfect base for our counter-strike. Whomever attacked us will assume that this base is ruined beyond use...they will never suspect we are still here. Lurking amidst the rubble like vermin...waiting to strike back and take revenge for all the innocent lives they’ve taken from us.”
    Scoot shook his head. “It’ll take months to get even part of this place operating again. Thousands of mech-hours of effort and Primus alone knows how many resources. We probably don’t have months, let alone enough resources.”
    “Probably not, Scoot, but do your best.” She turned her attention back to one of the few operating view screens. “That is all anyone can expect...but that each one of us does his or her very best.”
            *            *            *
    Terron stepped into the lush office with his lieutenants, Backspin, Thuron, Drizzle and Iceknife. They walked into the center of the circular room, noting the large and impressive viewport that looked out onto the Imperial construction yards beyond the desk at the end of the room.
    The three occupants of the room turned their attention to the new arrivals as they moved further into the office. Rampage, the Predacon, stood off to their left while Mercer occupied the sole chair at the center of the desk and Razorclaw flanked him on their right.
    “Lieutenant Commander Terron,” Mercer addressed him. “I understand you have been undertaking some unauthorized ventures of late?”
    “Yes, sir,” Terron replied with a broad smile. “Me and my battalion, the Storm hawks, got together and took out the Autobot base in the Epsilon sector. I know what a nuisance they’ve been to the Empire lately and I thought we’d do you a favor by--”
    “Yes, I’m sure you did,” Mercer cut him off in mid-sentence. “However, you are not paid to think. You are paid to take orders and carry them out.” Mercer’s voice was stern. “Orders, that come from the chain of command.”
    “They’re Autobots! And they’ve been attacking the Empire--you were there at Dnema when they struck. If anyone should understand our actions, it should be you.”
    “Their attacks were mostly minimal,” the other replied. “As you said, “nuisances”. Did you know the Emperor himself ordered me not to pursue any retaliation against the Autobots for the time being?”
    “Megatron ordered--” Terron stammered.
    “That is correct,” Mercer continued. “There were at least a couple of Decepticons present at Oberon in espionage capacities when you chose to attack it. That may have been Megatron’s motivation for not destroying it--or perhaps he had other considerations. I do not know, but it is not my place to question my superior’s orders when he has chosen a course of action.”
    “I had assumed they’d already been extracted,” Terron replied. “I used their data to launch attacks on precise tactical and structural targets on the Autobot base with the prototype Jupiter stealth vessels. Even if they perished in the attack, surely a couple of losses are acceptable in light of the gain we’ve made in eliminating the Autobots once and for all!” he paused a moment and then added, “we stopped the Autobots without even loosing one of our number in the strike force--all in all, an acceptable trade-off for a couple of spies!”
    “And now, are you certain the Autobots have all been eliminated?” Mercer demanded. “You struck from orbit and while they took considerable damage, can you guarantee they are all dead?”    He waited a moment, and let the other’s silence answer his question. “I thought not...”
    He looked down at a comp pad on his desk before addressing the Lieutenant Commander further. “This is your record to date,” he said, holding up the offending item. “Despite some capable battles and tactics, you are a rogue--on various occasions you have ignored orders to continue fighting. In some cases, coming out victorious, true, but always at considerable cost to equipment and manpower.”
    “I get results!” Terron exclaimed, clenching his fist. “If our esteemed leader acted more than he plotted, we would have already eliminated the Autobots! As it is, he acts like he wants to protect them, not destroy them! I did the empire a great favor by attacking Oberon.”
    “Megatron is our leader and he does as he sees fit,” Mercer replied. “It’s obviously you have no respect for the chain of command--or you would not have addressed a superior officer in such a callous manner.”
    “Maybe if my superiors saw the value of my work instead of punishing me for my lack of falling in step like a drone I would be more respectful!”
    “I dislike reckless fools who arrogantly think they know what’s best for our people!” Mercer snapped. “There is a difference between being a capable warrior and confusing your talent with wisdom--it is difficult for one to be both skilled on the battlefield and at the negotiation table.” He drew a weapon out of nowhere and trained it on the other Decepticon. “You are not a hero and you are not as smart as you believe--you’re a liability to our cause!”
    Terron started to react, but Mercer’s energy weapon cut him down in three shots, one shot tearing through his head module and the other two cutting into his chest. In the flash of an optic, Thuron and Drizzle also went for their weapons, blindly trying to avenge their commander but were both struck with incredible speed by Razorclaw and Rampage’s weapons fire nanoseconds before they could shoot.
    As their two bodies crumpled to the floor alongside their fallen leader, Backspin also looked as if she were going for a weapon--her hand frozen in mid-air near her waste--but had then thought better of it. Slowly, she lowered her hand again. Iceknife, meanwhile, hadn’t bothered to stir.
    Satisfied, Mercer lowered his weapon and returned it to sub space. After a moment of further vigilance, the two Predacons did likewise.
    He looked to the two remaining Decepticons.
    “I dislike wasting warriors lives needlessly,” he told them. “But, Terron was unwilling to follow the vision of our Empire and such disobedience is ultimately dangerous.”
    “Never liked him anyway,” Iceknife muttered.
    “Now what?” Backspin asked.
    “I was planning to promote the next capable Decepticon in the unit to it’s commander. However,” Mercer looked at the smouldering bodies. “It seems that individual is also dead. Therefore, I will have to go with the next person in-line. That would be you, Iceknife. Congratulations.”
    “I’ll do my best,” the other replied. Backspin managed the slightest hint of a smile at her comrade’s new fortune, but that was all.
    Mercer nodded at that. “You are dismissed then, Lieutenant Iceknife.”
    He watched the two surviving Decepticons of the Stormhawk’s command team disperse from the room and then turned his attention to Razorclaw.
    “It’s most fortunate Megatron placed the Predacons on this assignment--you are as fast as reputed.”
    “We live for the hunt,” Razorclaw replied. “We have the power of the beast combined with the intellect of the sentient being.”
    “Indeed.” Mercer turned his attention back to the room. “You may go for now.” He stopped and looked at the three dead warriors on his office floor. “Um, have someone clean up that mess over there, would you?”
            *            *            *
    It had been almost two weeks since the massacre of Oberon, and in that time, various Autobots had been uncovered--most alive and with only minor injuries. Some, though, had met with serious wounds and died in the makeshift medcenter while many other bodies had been found crushed or incinerated in the initial attack.
    Despite the crushing defeat they had suffered, unknowingly at Decepticon hands, power and most internal communications had been restored under the leadership of Sonimus Prime and Grid Iron. Both had toiled endlessly to keep their tattered faction working and concentrated on the task at hand, rather then left to have their hopes and dreams further eroded by the harshness of the reality about them.
    Many of the complexes within the base had been totally destroyed in the attacks and some were unrecoverable, buried as they were by tones of solid rock.  Grid Iron watched the wrecked central shaft way of the base as small crews of Autobots scurried over and around the debris at the bottom of it, working to bridge makeshift cabling and clear out collapsed tunnel ways.
    “How’s it going?” Sonimus voice asked behind him.
    “About as well as can be expected,” Grid Iron replied, not bothering to turn around. “We’ve found some more areas that weren’t too badly damaged in the cave-ins, so we’re clearing them out and stringing new power cables down into them. We also found a couple more caches of weapons that weren’t destroyed in the laboratories--Rad and Throttle figure we can use them with a few modifications.”
    He glanced at her as she leaned against the railing beside him. “How about you?”
    “Several of the wrecked shuttles and Defenders we uncovered are being cut up into replacement parts for the ones that aren’t too bad off.” She sighed. “The base’s defense grid was ninety percent destroyed, but the remaining weapons seem operational. And we’ve now succeeded in clearing out one quarter of the launch tunnels.”
    “That should be enough for the time being,” he said. “At least we’ll be able to get our ships out now...”
    There was silence a minute as they stood there, leaning against the steel railing, observing the work below them.
    “It’s funny,” Grid Iron said, looking up at the scarred rock beyond. “This was the dream--Optimus’ fall back plan for us if Cybertron should fall...” he snorted in disgust. “Some plan! He entrusted me to watch this place and above all else, keep it hidden and safe--and I go and let this happen! That’s where he went wrong--putting me in charge.”
    “You couldn’t have anticipated this. Neither could he,” Sonimus replied. “Optimus Prime--the real one--was a great leader and someone I looked up to...but even he had his times when things didn’t go as planned. But when Iacon lay ruined about him, he didn’t give up--he couldn’t afford to. And neither can we...”
    “How did someone so young get to be so wise?”
    Sonimus smiled at that, and he saw a warmth cross her face--a face that had been so cold and distant up until recently.
    “I’m not wise,” she said. “But, thank you. I just... I just know that we need to get things back together, get organized again and then we can strike out on our own and gain justice for what the Decepticons did to us.”
    “I thought that’s what Prime was doing--up until the attack anyway.” Noting her lack of response, he added, “You didn’t believe he was Optimus Prime reincarnate did you?”
    She shook her head. “Not for a minute... oh, he inspired the others to keep fighting--and for that, he deserves some credit--but he couldn’t have been the real Optimus Prime. There was just something too convenient about it all...” She paused. “I knew the real Optimus, watched him...die on Earth...there was no way he could ever come back. But if he could have somehow, I would’ve known it was him.”
    He heard the pain in her tone. “You didn’t just look up to him, did you?”
    “No... I--I don’t know where to begin on how to describe my feelings for him. But he was a hero among us, pure and noble--he didn’t just follow Autobot ideals, he embodied them. He fought for all of us, as if we were family to him and not just kindred warriors. It was hard not to fall in love with someone as incredible as he was...and if he had come back from the dead, I would have known it. The Gobot walked, talked and acted like him, but the energy--the presence of being, was never there the way it was with Optimus.”
    Grid Iron churned that over in his mind a moment. They had been kept so busy when Optimus Prime had returned to them, that he’d never had the opportunity to really think about that. Certainly, he had his suspicions about their new arrival, but Optimus had seemed genuine enough and hadn’t lead them all astray.
    But the conviction in Sonimus was tone was sincere--she didn’t just think she was right, she knew it somehow on an intuitive level. He hadn’t known Sunfire before too well, but he had known from reviewing her file when she had returned to them that she had been a young Autobot, full of passion and zest for life.     A poet and a philosopher...one who knew how to see logically with the voice of her heart. He envied her that ability--he had been around a long time and seen too much death and evil in his time to still be that innocent. Or maybe that wasn’t right--maybe he was just cut from a different type of cloth and couldn’t see the world the same as this type of person could.
    Indeed, it had taken a leader of passion and inner strength like Optimus Prime to command the Autobots--and try as he might, Grid Iron didn’t think he would ever be that good of a commander, no matter how old he got to be. He just didn’t have an abundance of that inner fire that was needed for the job...
    But maybe, just maybe, this one did.
    “So, if he wasn’t Optimus...?”
    “I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t pretend to have any theories on his origins--it doesn’t seem to have been sabotage. Doubledealer never went anywhere near that area according to records, and I can’t see Megatron having any other spies with us. It’s just another one of those unanswered mysteries for the moment...”  She sighed. “But I know he wasn’t the real Optimus--I could sense it somehow.”
    “I don’t know what to think--he seemed genuine enough. But you’re also right--how could he have survived? There’s no logical explanation--the Matrix is long gone, so we can rule out any supernatural effect, I think. And if Doubledealer didn’t create him, who could have?”
    Not to mention that the Decepticons wouldn’t have had any real reason to create a clone of Optimus--they wanted the Autobots beaten, not rallied against them!  It was shame he couldn’t go to the Decepticon and ask him personally what the Decepticons plans had been concerning them, but the spy had perished in the onslaught from their unknown enemy--his body crushed inside it’s cell from the collapsed roof...he suspected that security had either been preoccupied with the attack or incapacitated when the spy had met his grisly end.
    “I suppose it doesn’t really matter now,” Sonimus said. “We have other problems right now...”
     He nodded. “We both agree about getting our people back on their feet once and for all. So, the question is, who is going to lead our people now that Prime is gone?”
    “I think we already know how I feel about this subject. I have believed from the start that I was recreated to lead our people onward to a new destiny--both against the Decepticons and also the darkness that is dawning...”
    “I don’t really want the job myself,” Grid Iron told her. “I think my track record of late speaks for itself. But we will need to convene another leadership forum so others whom wish to try for the position are granted the opportunity.” Or those who didn’t approve of Sonimus’ as their new leader could say so openly...
    “Of course,” Sonimus agreed. “I don’t want to force anyone into anything they don’t want... certainly, there may be others who feel they are qualified to lead as well.” She turned her attention back to the construction below. “Besides, I am confident I will be the next leader of our people--and then, I can bring the Autobots back on the right track to honor...”
    Grid Iron mulled that last sentence over as he continued watching the workings going on below, but decided to remain silent. His role may not have been to lead the Autobots back to lost glory and along the path of honor, but he knew he had to keep them all working and functional--now, while there was yet no official leader of their people and later, to support whomever finally succeeded Optimus--be it Sonimus or some other Autobot all together.
    Yes, that was what he would do, he decided. Fulfill the role of the new leader’s chief lieutenant and assure that the Autobots would remain functional as a team--after all, he had made Optimus Prime a promise to keep his warriors safe and alive, above all else. And now.... now, he might be able to keep his vow to their departed leader.
            *            *            *
    Grid Iron watched the mixture of Autobots as they mulled about the large room that had been converted into a conference room. There were mostly officers of varying ranks present, although some of the Transformers here were also leadership hopefuls--and some of the others present were their supporters, he suspected.
    He expected this would not be an easy discussion to have--some of the Autobots had looked up to the Gobot Optimus Prime and believed him to be Optimus reincarnate, despite his and Sonimus own lingering doubts. There had even been a memorial for their lost leader days ago, with those supporters launching his body into the nearby sun as a final, fitting burial pyre.
    Not that he blamed them or anything--Optimus Prime had always been both a leader and a symbol of hope to his people. Even the Gobot Prime had known how to inspire his troops and give them the emotional sustenance they needed to carry on and continue fighting...it was only natural that some of his warriors would regard him with the same respect as their original leader and wish him to be done proper honor at his passing.
    “Let us call this meeting to order,” Grid Iron called out, tapping a small hammer against a crystal pedestal. Immediately, the Autobots assembled found their way into their seats or assumed standing positions in the audience.
    “I think we all know why we’re here,” he continued after a moment. “It seems like a very short time ago we assembled together to discuss our future leader...and after some unusual circumstances, we arrived at following the Gobot, Optimus Prime.” He paused, and then continued. “But as you all know, he was a victim of the recent assault against us by unknown parties. And thus, we need to select another to take his place in the world...to succeed, but not replace him, as no one can take the place of a bygone leader--merely attempt to follow in their footsteps while carving their own way out, in this, the most difficult of tasks, required of them.”
    “I will open the floor now, to those among us who believe they have what is needed to ascend to the new position,” he stated. “As always, we will decide in the traditional Autobot fashion--through the democratic fashion of popular vote.” He stepped down from the podium.
    Over the next hour or so, Grid Iron sat and listened as five candidates gave little speeches and attempted to win support from the audience. Each, in his opinion, were pretty bad and would almost certainly fail to gain many actual votes. They may have been popular or friendly and had friends that supported them, but he knew they lacked the inner fire and heart needed to run the faction properly. Two other candidates had failed to show up after initially announcing that they would--he suspected, they had been overcome with fear at the last minute and decided to drop out. Real good signs they were not competent leaders...
    Finally, it had been narrowed down to Sonimus Prime herself. He watched as she made her way to the stage... it occurred to him that she had seemed to him as the best person for the job up to this point--she had the heart and the fire that Optimus himself--the original one--had possessed. True, she hadn’t actually done any command work up to this point, but if conviction was anything to go on, then she was the right choice. She wasn’t the most popular choice--her bouts of overconfidence had turned some of the others off out right--but being everyone’s friend all the time wasn’t in the job description for leader and in some cases, it would be a serious hindrance.
    Besides, she couldn’t be any worse than the other candidates...
    “My fellow Autobots,” Sonimus began. “We need a leader capable of making the tough decisions in this war with the Decepticons and the Disciples. Someone who has the dedication to our cause and the--”
    “I say--screw it!”
    Everyone turned and looked over to see Hot Rod standing near the large double doors of the room. Satisfied he had gotten their attention, he walked briskly to the stage and took the podium.
    Grid Iron half rose in his chair. “Hot Rod! What is the meaning of this?!” he demanded. “If you wanted an opportunity to speak, why didn’t you just ask ahead of time?”
    “I don’t want to be leader,” Hot Rod replied, making sure the others heard too. ”I just came to say my piece and then I’ll leave.”
    The other shrugged and then slowly seated himself. Sonimus Prime stood off to Hot Rod’s side, uncertain what to do.
    “Autobots, hear me!” The young warrior began. “For too long we have wasted our time. First, we believed the Decepticons were gone forever--so we got sloppy. Allowed ourselves to believe we too could have peace like so many others around us! And then, they came along and destroyed our new world and our peace! Stole away our dreams and hopes for a better tomorrow…  So, what did we do? We came to Oberon. To fight back, you ask? No! Just to cower here and timidly make the odd raid against them! And now, they’ve come and they’ve done it all to us again!”
    He paused, noting some of the others nodding their heads in agreement. “And now, we shall elect another leader and most likely, sit here and rust further! Well, I say I’ve had enough! The only way the Decepticons will ever learn is if we take the fight to them--an optic for an optic! We must forget about our high and mighty morals and go take them out--any way possible! At any cost!”
    “That’s absurd!” Sonimus exclaimed. “If we abandon our morals, we’d be no better than them!”
    “Is it?!” Hot Rod exclaimed. “Look at us! We do nothing and they burn our world, conquer our allies and pick us off at whim! We need to act, to fight back--”
    “And we will! But the right way...”
    “No!” the other exclaimed, looking back to the audience. “I’ve seen friends die around me for too long! I can’t do this anymore...I can’t let this happen anymore.” He paused. “And I won’t. I came here to invite any of those of you that wish to come with me, to do so. If you don’t, you don’t...but either way--I am going. And if I have to die alone taking out just one Decepticon battleship to make my point, I’ll do it!”
    He turned and strode off the stage at that. As he headed for the door, the Dinobots rose and followed him. And then Red Alert, Topspin, Roadbuster, Skyfall and several others followed suite.
    “My fellow Autobots, please!” Sonimus begged. “I agree with Hot Rod--but we cannot simply abandon our morals to blindly follow him. We are Autobots--Optimus Prime believed in our people and our way, will you do his memory such a grievous dishonor by spitting on what he believed in? Yes, we need to act--and we will! This I vow to you... but in the right way. To protect and defend ourselves--not to take revenge blindly. We are not the Decepticons and I will not allow us to become them in order to deal with them!“ She paused, noting several other Autobots who looked unsure about whether to stay or not, had remained and seemed to be in agreement now.
    “Vote me in as your new leader and I promise you we will fight back! We will take what is ours and endure, as we must. But not by becoming that which we loath--but by following the example Optimus Prime set for us. Having honor and respect for each other and our fellow sentient races out there...fighting the Decepticons because we have to--because no one else will. Not because we blindly want revenge...
    “We are Autobots! That used to mean something to us--and I vow to make it mean something again! Tell me, are you with me?”
    A resounding cheer and thunderous applause greeted her question and for the first time in a long while, Grid Iron felt a smile cross his face plates. He had been right about this one and he had a feeling, the real war was just now beginning...