Author’s Note: It saddens me that I’ve had to narrate so much of this story. But for the sake of time, the story must be finished. Also, ‘tu’ means ‘affirmative’ or ‘positive’. Onward!–T.L. Arens

"YOU SPEAK," Desolate returned. "FALSIFIED BRAVADO."

Rodimus jumped to his feet, flipped the table and gripped the Virus’ neck with a crushing a hold. "Don’t piss me off, Desolate!"

"NOT SO DIFFICULT A TASK."

Blunt force rammed Rodimus in the nether region. He instinctively released Desolate and received a kick to the chin. Roddi flew backward and landed shoulder-first. He rolled slowly, suppressing pain until he conjured the strength to retaliate. Desolate caught the first strike but did not see the other punch. The Virus jerked left and Rodimus repeated the left strike with greater impact. Desolate dropped and finished with several kicks to the abomination’s head. Desolate lay still.

Rodimus roared, declaring his momentary victory. "Stay down, Core-Hole!" He kicked Desolate three more times.

Deep breath. The world changed into a soft deep couch, gentle light and sounds from -a TV? Rodimus opened his eyes.

A set of tiny eyes blinked at him. A set of antennae arched toward him. Rodimus lapped an arm over his eyes. "Primus, why did I wake up to you?"

Pissant snorted, amused. "First off, a simple ‘thank you’ will suffice. Secondly, Primus doesn’t exist in this reality anymore."

Roddi grunted. "What am I supposed to thank you for?"

"Bailing you out of that fight you had. Is that your answer for everything, Rodimus Prime?"

A dizzy spell assailed the Autobot leader and he winced. "What?"

"Fighting."

"No. Sometimes I answer the phone with ‘Rodimus Prime, your dime."

"And brain disengaged," Pissant added. "Yes, I am aware of that."

Rodimus glared. "Don’t you have some liver to devour?"

"Why? You want some?"

"Uugh." Rodimus rolled, facing the other wall. "Why don’t you perform a disappearing act?"

"Don’t want to." the mollusk sniped childishly. "It’s more entertaining to antagonize you."

"Fine." Rodimus replied. "Antagonize this:" he flipped the snail off. Rodimus extracted himself from the cozy couch and staggered toward the door. "Or this:" he added. He flipped both middle fingers at Pissant who regarded the insult with an impassive frown.

"Do you know what your problem is?" the snail said before Rodimus left the room.

Roddi stopped short, rolled his eyes and turned around. "Yeah. It’s sitting on the couch, staring at me with beady black eyes."

"You have no faith. There is not one speck of confidence left in you."

Rodimus’ eyes narrowed. Pissant did not move, unintimidated, when Prime’s face filled his vision. "Say it again," Prime sneered. "Then ask me if I care."

"Don’t need to," Pissant returned with similar tones. "You pretend you don’t care. But the fact is, you’re two straws shy of suicide. My question is, what’s keeping you here? You think anyone would care? Would they miss you? You’re a train of self-inflicted miseries looking for a good wreck. And you keep passing the opportunity to do so."

"Suicide?" Roddi scoffed. "You. First."

"Go into the D-con chamber in the transporter room. Flip the red switch. Fast, painless and clean."

It was a good idea. Roddi blinked, half surprised. Or was it actually his own thoughts that declared it good? Rain shouted from the doorway and Rodimus blinked again as if hypnotized and suddenly aware.

"PISSANT!" The girl called, "don’t talk to him!"

The mollusk folded his tiny arms. "It was a private conversation and no business of yours."

Rodimus mentally reeled and staggered when Rain gripped him by the upper arm and ushered him out the room. Rain firmly held onto him even as Rodimus lost his balance amid confusion. His mind turned to mush. Seconds ago, his head was so clear and his temper so high. What happened just then?

He sat on his bed, aware of four walls, the blanket under him and the figure sitting in his chair.

Albert sat on the table, staring at nothing.

Rodimus clutched his head and when he spoke, his own voice sounded drowned and disconnected. "What’s happening to me?"

"I’ll explain it if you promise to sit still another few moments."

Rain’s bright face and crazy hairstyle gave something for Roddi to focus on. "Okay, " he agreed weakly.

"You passed out the moment the captain and company left the ship. I wanted to take you to medical and call Bookworm back. But Little Pisser said he’d handle it. So he gave you a couch and watched for twenty cycles. I just, you know, checked in during visiting hours. When you started talking in your sleep, I suspected something was wrong. Seems I was almost too late. Your dreams gave Pissant access to your subconscious."

Rodimus’ head throbbed with a newly-formed migraine. His eyesight dimmed. "You mean that slimy bastard was playing with me?"

Rain’s concern grew. "Yeah. Lie down, Rodimus. You’re going to be sick."

"I am sick." Roddi corrected. "I’m sick and tired. I’m sick and dizzy. I’m a sick son of a-"

"Yeah, I got it." Rain gently pushed Roddi into his pillow and hauled his feet onto the bed. She left then returned with a cold wet washcloth and laid it over Rodimus’ eyes. He instantly relaxed while the pile of questions grew.

"Rain? Rain, he suggested I end it all. He said..." Rodimus’ heart choked him. "I know what that’d do to Op. I can’t leave. I can’t leave Optimus, no matter... He’s, I mean, Rusti takes care of him, right? But he can’t handle everything. There’s... and Desolate..."

Rodimus remembered saying nothing more. His body melted under the snug security of his own quarters and the fresh cloth over his eyes. A gentle scent of spearmint eased the pain and reality slipped away.

Rodimus took his good morning to the kitchen. Rain smiled him hello and chewed on a slice of toast.

"Better, now, Rodimus?"

Rodimus picked Optimus’ chair. "Yeah, so to speak. At least the noggin is on straight. Do you want me to mush with gratitude?"

"Na. And you’re welcome. Coffee?"

"Yeah. Got food?"

Rain smirked. "I’ll go check. Might be a few crumbs in the cabinet."

She left for the counters and cupboards and while she wasn’t looking, Rodimus stole a sip of her coffee.

Bitter. Nasty. Bad idea.

"Rod, how do you like your hot and black?"

"Not like yours," he replied stiffly.

She laughed then: "Oh! THIS!" Rain peeked round the corner. "Hey, ever had pugs?"

"Pugs? You mean little dogs with smashed faces?"

"No, my ignorant leader-don’t-wannabe." Rain held up a large tin can written in a foreign language with a smiling cartoon character. "Pugs. I’ll bake some." she turned to the oven. "We love this stuff. I guess Bookworm forever-borrowed it from the Pokies when they got sick with hax."

Deja vu. Rodimus shivered. "Wait. What did you say?"

"We did a trade-deal with a ship of BDX Pokies who came down with a case of hax infection."

"Hax? That sounds familiar. Where..." Rodimus banged his brains. Why did that sound so familiar? His head came up with zip. Rain set coffee in front of the Autobot leader and drank half her cup. Rodimus mechanically sipped the brew.

The event settled to silence until Rain spoke again. "I can smell it when you’re thinking and when you’re spacing. The burnt wires don’t come out your ears, choking for real air. But I think I got the pattern."

Rodimus tried to smile. "Me and Op have been through the Pitt a few times. He’s finally recovering. But I still got dents and scratches." he took a third sip. "Seems we’ve come so far but..." Roddi shrugged.

"The coals are still hot," Rain finished.

"Yeah. Still there."

Silence held their tongues until a buzzer called Rain into the kitchen. Rodimus smirked when she reacted to a burn with a colorful expletive. She closed the oven and brought a plate to the table. Rodimus stared at the pile of bread twists.

Rain took her chair and grabbed a twist. "Better eat while you can. I don’t wait politely when it comes to pugs." she nabbed a second helping when Rodimus reached for his first. Rain chewed happily when Roddi’s eyes enlarged with surprise. A sound of delight escaped his throat.

"And that," Rain said, "is why they call it ‘comfort food."

"It explains Rusti’s fondness for chocolate. Especially during her period."

"Girls are funny creatures," Rain polished off her second pug. "I know from personal experience."

Roddi feigned surprise. "You don’t say!"

She smiled when he took up his second pug. "Sometimes I have nightmares about my past with Shuzuul Dyy. Can’t guess if they’re dreams, real events or something my head’s working through. It’s confusing. Sometimes I don’t know how to react. I don’t know if I should be angry or not. I mean, yeah, I can get steamed over what happened to me, imagined or real. But it doesn’t do any good because the Quintesson is dead. She shrugged. "Burn. Heal. Scar."

"Do you remember anything before Schmuzzle Die?"

Rain shook her head. "Wiped memory, remember? I don’t know if I even had a life before him."

Rodimus grabbed two more pugs and Rain took the last three. She broke one in half and shared. Rodimus forced himself to admit he liked her. "I gotta thank you, Rain, for dragging my wimpy ass away from Pissant. I don’t suppose I can extract an apology from him, do you?"

"He’ll lie about it to your face, Roddi. But there’s always a way to get under his shell."

"Say that again," Rodimus requested.

Rain ate another bite. "I know how to piss him off."

Rodimus grinned. "No, my name. I liked how you said my name."

She turned perplexed. "Roddi?"

His eyes shined, pleased to hear it from a new friend. "You, uh, you said the A.V. room is your fave place. Wanna translate that?"

She smirked in the middle of a bite. Roddi thought it cute. Rain chewed and swallowed before answering. "Well, you can’t trapeze from the ceiling but you can watch a lot of movies."

"Yeah? I like movies. Not... you know... girl stuff like a girl and her horse. Mysteries are good. I like action films and stupid-scary flix."

She stared, perplexed. "What’s a horse?"

They watched three movies before Rodimus called good night. Rain respected his need for sleep and returned to the bridge to give Pittstop a break.

At first Rodimus wasn’t sure he’d find sleep once he tugged the blanket over his middle. But he dropped eyeballs-first into a vat of thick nothingness.

Is this the Matrix?

"Oh boy!" Roddi entered the storage bay with a plate piled with food. A white napkin covered the dish and waved as Rodimus danced across the room.

He slid the banquet into Daniel’s cage and waited. "For the rat’s ass," he proclaimed and waited.

Daniel scoffed inside his ‘bedroom’. "Am I supposed to jump out, tail wagging, tongue drooling? Oooh! Scraps from the table!"

"Scraps?" Roddi feigned surprise. "Why I’d never feed you meager scraps, Dano-Mano! You’re not good enough for scraps. No, no. This-this I scraped off the kitchen floor!"

Witwicky emerged with a bored, unamused expression. He grunted, having no reply to Rodimus’ sarcasm. He reached for the napkin when he saw a drawing on it of himself as a piece of gum and Rodimus lifting his foot up. Daniel rolled his eyes. "Oh, look at that," he said with equal sarcasm: "who would have known Rodimus Prime could draw?"

"I can sing, too," Roddi bragged. "I used to sing your daughter to sleep."

Witwicky gave Rodimus a look of contempt. "I don’t have a daughter other than Dezi. You murdered Resonna. That thing is not my daughter. She’s not even human.

That pressed a button and Rodimus’ blue eyes flared. "Rusti is off limits. Got that? This ship is more human than you. Chalk-Talk was more human than you. You’d better eat up, Jackass. I hate feeding the pet rat."

"You shouldn’t keep wild animals in cages, Rodimus." Witwicky picked up the sandwich. "You could just let me go. You’d never see me again."

"Well, that’s neither a guarantee nor a brilliant idea," Rodimus wanted to leave but he just had to have the final word. "If I were to let you go, it’d be into an incinerator."

Daniel smirked. "So you plan to execute me after all."

"Yeah, well, Someone intelligent once said destruction of evil is not evil. Wipe your ass on that one, Daniel." Rodimus headed for the door and opened it when Daniel rattled is cage.

"I don’t want to live like this anymore!" he shouted. "It’s not fair!"

Rodimus allowed himself a small smile. "I know." And he left the bay.

Roddi entered the kitchen and snooped around for something to drink. He settled for a glass of tea and aimed to leave when he spotted Pissant at the table, chewing on a piece of fruit.

Prime detoured and set his tea on the table. "I don’t suppose you’re in the habit of apologizing."

Pissant stared and slurped fruit skin. "Apologies are what is offered when guilt and regret are involved with one’s words or actions, Jackass. I neither regret nor will I apologize."

Rodimus took three seconds to keep his simmering temper from erupting. "What is your play, anyway, Pissant?" He did not like the snail’s smile.

"The ‘play’? My play? Well, it’s all about Galvatron, of course."

Rodimus so did not expect that. "What?"

"My terms of conducting business. Pet-for-pat."

"What the heck does that have to do with Galvatron?"

"Everything. I didn’t want him to think he was abducted. So, at the right moment, I brought all of you here."

Rodimus narrowed his eyes. "You know, one lovely thing about being a Prime is an outstanding memory. Unless, of course, there’s a distraction. So, as I recall, Rain mentioned you were jonesing for some sort of power source. What are you after?"

Pissant sighed with all the drama of a teenage girl. "How about I re-establish a communications link between you and the girl-"

"Her name is Rusti." Roddi growled.

"-and you can ask her personally."

Again Roddi’s memory kicked in. "She called you ‘Primacron’."

"That’s right."

"And you’re under a curse."

"Front seat in the classroom, Rodimus."

"So... this power source is supposed to undo the curse?"

Pissant feigned surprise. "How about that? the Tin Woodsman can put things together!" Pissant wiped fruit droppings off his neck and made his way down the table. "And before you ask, yes. Galvatron is the only one who can get the power source. Why? Because he’s a Decepticon. And he is not of Primus. And he is not of Quintesson like Megatron was. Megatron; a Quintesson horror story if there ever was one. But before him, Psyklenox. And before you accuse me of activating the Virus, let me say it is more likely Psyklenox’s life force frequency is responsible for Desolate’s presently perturbed state. Could I do something about it? Likely. Will I? No. Because I don’t care."

Rain. Sweet, silly Rain, entered the kitchen. Rodimus was glad to see someone he trusted. "Morning, Weeners," she said in passing. "Did Bookworm stash some leftovers?"

"Would I know?" Pissant sneered. "Would I care?"

Rain feigned surprise. She gasped. "Oh look! Salt! My best friend!"

"You wouldn’t DARE!" Pissant growled.

Rain peered round the corner with a closed hand. She opened it and blew salt at the table.

Pissant looked like a clown when his face expanded in terror. The snail vanished. Rodimus bowed over and could not stop laughing.

Rain introduced the kitchen to Rodimus. She explained why some cups were meant for some drinks and not others. She taught him how to make a cold ayther sandwich. Rodimus learned he did not like the grey sandwich spread. He did not care whether or not it added hair to his body.

Rain found another can of pugs stashed in the back of a cupboard. She sighed and apologized to Bookworm. Not that he was there to protest.

Rain packed a tray with their edible treasures and led Roddi to the A/V room. Rodimus followed, hoping she’d not make him watch a teary-feely movie.

Rain told the room to make a cozy table for two. They plopped onto a pile of pillows while Rain programmed the TV.

"News?" she asked.

"How old?" Roddi countered. "And why news?"

"Cuz it’s Mechlatex."

Rodimus blinked. "You can get TV stations from the planet?"

"There’s only one station, but yeah."

"One station?" Rodimus scoffed. "Sounds boring."

"Owned, controlled and run by the Regime. All the propaganda you could ask for."

"Prop-and-ganda, eh?" Rodimus devoured two bites of his sandwich. "I can just picture their movies," he said around his food. "Ghostbusters 14: The Regime Strikes Back. Life Is an Armory; It’s Just a Matter Which Weapon Will Kill You First. Psyklenox: Just When You Thought Dictatorship Was a Good Idea. Lord of the Despots. The Good, the Bad and the Megalomaniac."

Rain stared at Roddi who lost his mind. "What are you spouting?"

"Movie tittles," Rodimus face-palmed. "Earth movie tittles," he amended.

"It’s hard living in a foreign society," Rain said sympathetically. "Everyone thinks you’re a complete psycho until you learn a little culture."

Rodimus lost his smile and tugged it back on but half way when Rain looked concerned. "I won’t be seeing you again when we leave," He choked up when she solemnly nodded. Rodimus stared at his partially-eaten sandwich. "You know, it hit me. I don’t have any friends. I don’t really have anything outside my desk. Well," he digressed, "there’s Magnus. But that’s an occasional stress relief." Roddi swallowed his sob story and pinned his eyes on the ceiling. "And, there’s Albert. But he’s not-he doesn’t move in the same circles as me. He’s sorta one-track minded."

Rain nodded. "You really need to see a specialist, Rodimus."

"Great. Any suggestions?"

"Nope." Rain turned the TV on. "But I’ll keep an eye out for one."

"...audrive held the western front during the unlawful uprising against the Regime last night. Sources state twenty-three suspects have been apprehended and interrogated. Crews have worked thirty-one hours to restore order."

Rodimus dozed, though his mind did not drift far from the newscast. Need to get to Earth, he told himself. Need to get back and eradicate-

"Hey."

Rain’s voice forced his eyes open Rodimus stared Forward, too comfortable to move.

"Did you want me to feed that pet rat of yours? Or do you feed him only once a day?"

Rodimus grunted. "Do we have to feed him at all? How about sending him a care package parcel-post? Or-or maybe we can talk Jackson into doing it."

Rain stared from under her brows. "Doubtful, Roddi."

"Really? You don’t think I can get him to do it?"

"I don’t think he’ll do anything for you."

"Wanna bet?"

"Bet? You mean wager?" she asked. "Like what?"

"Umm..." Rodimus thought of the nastiest job he could make her do. "Laundry. And I like my underwear pressed, thanks."

Rain squinted one eye. "Laundry? That’s it?"

"Yeah. What more is there? Got something worse in mind?"

"I do. But if you want laundry-"

"No, no. Let’s hear it," Roddi insisted.

"Uh-uh," she countered. "We’ll play it your way."

Jackson glared at Rodimus with steel eyes and a curled lip. "Does it look like I’m wearing a zookeeper uniform?"

"It’s a rat," Rodimus lied. "Not Godzilla."

Jackson pointed with a rude finger. "At least that is something I understand. But the answer’s the same."

Rodimus feigned disappointment. "Come on! Look just do me this solid a-a-and I’ll make sure Galvatron behaves more civil in your direction."

"I don’t need help dealing with Galvaton."

"Oh really?" Roddi challenged. "Your jaw’s still black and blue from the last time he found a reason to punch you. Face it, Jacks. Galvatron is way not so fond of you."

Jackson scoffed and wiggled his aching jaw back and forth as if to make sure it still worked. "You’re a jackass, Rodimus," he snarled.

"Guilty as charged. You’ll do it, then?" And there was the look Rodimus waited for. Jackson sulked but nodded.

Jackson Cyclonus entered the large, cold storage bay and found Daniel. "You’ve got to be stringing me," he scoffed. "You’re the rat?"

Witwicky’s eyes smoldered. "Expecting a mail-order bride?"

"Maybe. But you’re too far on the ugly-mug meter to be of interest for me."

Witwicky pursed his lips before relaxing his expression. "You didn’t spit or poison the food, did you?"

"No. But Rodimus Prime may have."

Witwicky scoffed and double-ckecked his sandwiches. Three large bites later he realized Jackson stared at him. "What?"

"You’re as much a prisoner here as me."

Daniel stopped chewing and stared. "What? What are you talking about, Cyclonus?"

"Jackson. Jackson Cyclonus. I’m not the person who’s supposed to own this body."

Witwicky smirked. "Okay. Did Prime tell you to say that? Sounds like something he’d do."

"No. They think there was a cosmic accident."

Witwicky glared with confusion before cracking into laughter. "I needed a good laugh. Translation?"

Jackson rolled his eyes and briefed Daniel on the situation. Witwicky ate noisily and licked his fingers. But he listened with interest while the backside of his mind formulated a plan, scratched it out and formulated another. "Tell you what:" Daniel said before Jackson left, "You bring me a data pad or some other small electric device that will connect and communicate with another device-could be as simple as a remote control or a flat phone-and I’ll help you find a new road to freedom."

"Uh-huh," Jackson responded. "And what’s in it for you?"

"The satisfaction knowing I have screwed the Autobots again."

"Let’s play a game."

Rodimus sat at a child’s table similar to Rusti’s little table when she was four. The small chair under him held his weight better than he expected. Pissant, now human-sized, sat across the table and used telekinesis to pour them both hot tea.

Roddi stared at the blue plastic ware Rusti loved so much. "Not into playing anything with you," he told the snail.

"Oh, but you’ll love this, Rodimus!" the mollusk patronized. "I call it ‘Obliterate My Reality’. I will invent a universe complete with creatures and histories and you invent something cosmic to annihilate it."

Rodimus folded his arms. "You’re an ass, Pissant."

"A title I proudly wear, I assure you."

"Is that what you told the Council of Zhat-At-Taut?"

Pissant clicked his tongue and sipped tea from the tiny cup. "Not only did you mispronounce the name, you misspelled it."

"Gimme a break," Roddi groaned.

"The Council of Zha-Tat-Tauch do not care what I do with my time so long as I keep my slime to myself. I have dared go so far as to invent new and exciting ways to irritate, annoy and torment people. And get away with it."

Rodimus pretended not to listen. "Did you poison the tea?"

"I would liked to have poisoned it, Rodimus Prime. But your illness and/or death currently serves no other purpose but to amuse me."

Rodimus grunted and sipped the teeny cup of sweet lemon tea.

Pissant continued: "That and I fear your Vyrestix would be put out."

"You’re right. Op wouldn’t approve. He’d invent twenty different ways to kill you and bring you back to life to kill you all over again."

"Do you really believe that? Come now, Rodimus..." Pissant chuckled as he turned black. His form expanded and stretched until Desolate sat before Rodimus.

Prime swore. "You learn fast."

The Virus poured Itself more tea. "DEMIGOD SENDS BEST WISHES."

Rodimus glowered.

Rusti and Galvatron returned to their own motel room. She plopped on the bed she and Prime claimed and reached for the book. Galvatron dropped on his own bed, removed his eye visor and stared at the ceiling. The room’s quiet filled the space between them. Rusti read page after page of history. Names, dates, places and events ran through her head much like Earth’s own history except on a greater scale. The Regime clearly wrote history in its own favor. But between the lines, tales of disasters and the fall of nations and races screamed of injustice and all pointed bloody fingers at one person.

By page forty, Rusti peeled her eyes off the book. Something sinister was happening. How could this ruler who controlled millions of light years of space not know his own home world had been invaded?

Psyklenox had to know the Infraction and his crew and company were there! And if that were true, why would he allow them to travel so freely across the land?

Rusti considered packing their things, find the rest of their group and insist the all return to the Infraction. She closed the book. The more she pondered the unusual or unnatural ease by which they traveled in a well-guarded world where privacy was non-existent, the stronger her suspicions banged at the doors of commonsense.

She set the book on the night stand and slid her legs off the bed. An image blinked behind her eyes and she flinched. Confused, Rusti scanned the room, half expecting a specter or ghost hidden within a crevice or shadow.

What was it? The image came and vanished so fast, she failed to form a solid identity. Maybe it was nothing. Nothing at all.

Galvatron awoke to a world frozen in silence and stillness. He sat up and found Rusti sitting on the other bed. "Did you say something, Mizz Rusti?" he asked politely. He grew confused when she did not notice his awareness.

Movement to the left caught the Decepticon’s watchful eye. A shadowy figure strolled through the front door and stood at the foot of Galvatron’s bed. A face with bland, nondescript features stared at Galvatron with blank, stoic eyes. A shimmering golden robe sheltered the figure’s ghostly form.

Galvatron, being Galvatron, noticed only the stranger’s bald head. The Decepticon subconsciously wiped a hand over his own hairless pate.

"You’re not the Matrix Virus." he stated.

"No." the non-gender voice accompanied the sound of gentle winds. Galvatron motioned to speak again but the ghost broke the silence first. "Galvatron. I waited galactic years for you."

Galvatron did not breathe. "I know. I know you. I know you."

"Rrouzhaunt Dak Aouadune."

Galvatron’s lungs remembered how to work. "Yes. Yes." The profound moment left him wordless. "Zh’Xn"

"Tell of this, Galvatron: do you think it takes evil to destroy evil?"

Galvatron did not hesitate to reply: "Zero canceling zero does not make it a one." Galvatron pondered the principle verses what the entity said. "Is it that you are suggesting I am no better than Megatron; that Megatron still exists?"

"Not in the least. Take it as a warning. Final message, Galvatron. Out of the aberrancy of Skorponok, the Most High will bring you a new people."

The moment changed.

"...alvatron! Are you all right?"

Rusti stood over him, concern creased her face. She laid a hand over his smooth forehead. "Galvatron?" she repeated.

"Ugh-erhm," disoriented, Galvatron struggled to say something. "Y-yes."

"You were dreaming. No fever. Are you hungry?"

"Does Prime put up with this?" Galvatron slapped his own face. "That’s not what I meant, Rusti. I’m sorry."

"Shut up. Are you hungry?"

"Yes." Relief touched him when she smiled. Rusti was a kind girl and the Decepticon considered her kinder still when she handed him a plate of edibles.

She sat on the other bed and sank her teeth into a brown bun. "Are you okay?" she repeated.

Galvatron chomped on a crunchy white vegetable. "No," he answered deadpan. "I am confused. Something is happening to me. I hear music and I spoke with an entity I never met before but I know who and what it is."

Rusti ate two bites of pickled fowl before answering him. "I’ve had that happen to me."

"You have?"

"Mmhmm. I was dying. And an entity came to my rescue."

"It did?" was it... malicious?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No. It was Pyrzhak That Chamryson."

"Pyrzhak..." Galvatron winced. "The Matrix?" Rusti nodded slowly and he wagged a finger at her. "That explains a great deal about you, Mizz Rusti." she smiled, pleased. Galvatron nodded. "Now, then, what are you reading that’s important enough for you to re-reread it again?"

"I’m memorizing, Galvatron. This book will not only get us home, it’ll help us to get to Earth by any one of five jump gates."

Galvatron stared trying to guess. "Which Earth gates, Rusti? The Bermuda Triangle or the Zone of Silence in Mexico. Wait. You said five."

Rusti tapped the book. "These gates are located in space, Galvatron. And they’re not recently manufactured gates; I think they’ve been around a lot longer than humans have been on Earth. I can’t even annunciate their names."

Galvatron silently invited her to hand him the book. She obliged and sat at the edge of his bed.

The Decepticon’s red eyes scrutinized one page after another until he reached the fold-out map. Sliding his butt aside to make room for her, Galvatron laid the map before the both of them. "You are correct, Rusti," he affirmed. "These gates are indeed ancient. This one here," he pointed to a mark sitting between a large sun and two planets, "this is not Quintesson, it’s Valentelepine. And this is written in Jelfathan. But these," he traced the Perseus Arm of the Milkyway Galaxy, "these are Quintesson four-tier marks. It may explain how Cybertron ended in this sector."

Rusti tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Cybertron is a rogue planet. No one knows its base origins. For millions of years it revolved around this sector."

"Before it was brought to Earth?"

"Exactly."

"So, I was right; the gates here can and do correspond to the Sol System."

Galvatron grinned. "Optimus said you were smart." Rusti shared his grin, amused and pleased. The Decepticon looked up. He scanned the room as if expecting trouble.

"What is it?" Rusti worried about his off-kilter moods of late. At first she guessed it was all about Cyclonus. But at this moment, she admitted her misgivings. "Galvatron?"

"Do you hear that?" it’s the Music. It’s clearer. I swear I could almost touch it. He met her concerned eyes and stood. "I have to go, Rusti. The Music is here. It calls and I must answer."

Rusti stared out the corner of her eyes. "Hwy would something like that be in this town? Is it coming from the lake?"

"Eh?" Galvatron’s confusion melted into a smile. "No, Dear. It’s on the planet. North of us, to be more precise."

She blinked slowly. "And you’re going to get there how?"

"Hitchhiking?"

"You make my brain hurt, Galvatron. No one will give you a ride. This isn’t the Outback."

Galvatron waved her off. "I’m a resourceful mechanism. I’ll find a way."

"You should not go. And you should not go by yourself."

The humanoid Decepticon folded his arms. "I’m a sturdy fellow. I can take care of myself.

"Nuh-uh." she objected. "What part of ‘not-by-yourself’ do you not get? I’m coming with you."

"Optimus Prime will kill me if anything so much as looks at you wrong."

"Optimus will find me. He may not always find you, Galvatron. And you are not going anywhere alone."

He mustered an apologetic smile. "You are sweet, Rusti. But if you follow me, I will have to tie you up so you’ll stay safe."

She eyed him, doubtful and determined. "That is not going to hold me, Galvatron. I will not lose you."

Galvatron stared, suspicious. "Who’s speaking to me: you or the Matrix?"

Rusti opened her mouth to answer then stopped with a glaring surprise. "Uh-hu." Galvatron winked. "Not nearly as thick-headed as Magnus and Cyclonus think I am."

Rusti drew a deep breath. "Both," she replied. "I am coming with you."

"You don’t know where I’m going."

"I don’t care."

He shook a finger at her. "You’ve never seen Prime angry. Believe me: it’s worse than..." Galvatron winced. "I am not comfortable with the idea of putting you in danger."

"And I appreciate that," she responded. "Now let’s go before you invent a new way to do something stupid. Let me at least leave a note."

"Very well. I will use the bathroom."

Rusti scribbled a note and drew hearts and flowers around the paper’s edges. Maybe they could stop and ask Optimus to go with them. She blinked. Didn’t Galvatron mention the Bermuda Triangle? She reached for the book and its treasure of maps. Tracing the five major gates from the Metaxan System to the Sol System, Rusti found one gate did, indeed, lead straight to the Bermuda Triangle.

Galvatron exited the bathroom and slipped out his T-shirt. Rusti bit her lower lip. It wasn’t fair how attractive the Autobots were. Like Optimus, Gavaltron’s body was finely chiseled. He opened his duffle and strapped on a light armor vest, a long sleeved shirt over that and a light jacket over that. Rusti double-checked her xeno-geographical calculations.

Galvatron snapped his jacket sleeves together and turned to her. "What happened to the communication between you and the Primes, Rusti?"

"Hm?"

"You don’t seem to mentally connect to Rodimus or Optimus anymore."

Rusti lowered the book with a thoughtful but saddened gaze. "I don’t know for sure. I think it was the Q-Virus. I think it broke something in me when I was dying."

Galvatron froze, stunned. "You were dying?"

The subject still burned. The memory of Bare Anches carried a pain so deep, Rusti did not think it would ever heal. "Nothing evil touches is ever the same."

Galvatron planted hands on his hips and sighed with all the air in his lungs. "You are correct. I can’t leave you behind."

Rusti took her turn in the restroom. She handled business and changed her clothes. "How about we find Optimus and get him to come with us?"

No answer.

Rusti ran a brush through her flat hair. "Galvatron, did you hear me?" She opened the door. "I said, Optimus-" an empty motel room greeted her in silence.

With a four-letter word on her lips, Rusti stashed all necessities in her bag. She flew out the door, stopped short, returned to the room and grabbed a pen, a notepad and extra change from Prime’s duffel bag.

"They’re all going to be death of me," she muttered. Racing to the street, she cast her gaze left then right.

Galvatron said north.

Rusti popped her head into the motel office. "Excuse me, which way is north?"

A right turn and two blocks later, Rusti spotted Galvatron examining a small automobile. She raced to catch up. "What the hell do you think you’re doing? You agreed-"

"Only the highest of classes or the wealthy could afford this." Galvatron said offhanded. "It is likely that strange mechanism is armed with an anti-theft system."

"You’re worse than a toddler!" she waited a second for a reply. "Galvatron!"

"Eh? What? You spent too much time in the bathroom."

"Galvatron!"

He met her eyes and held his arms out. "I can’t help it. The Music is calling."

Rusti sighed and handed him her bag. "Let me talk to it."

"Naturally," the Decepticon donned a dose of sarcasm in his voice. "You speak to space ships. An automobile ought to be a glass of giggles."

Ignoring him, Rusti approached the vehicle and tried to read it before laying hands on its clean white surface. "It has an integrated mapping system," she reported. "I don’t understand the power source but..." she turned eyes on her companion. "It seems to like you, Galvatron."

"You’re bluffing." he frowned. "And you’re driving."

"I don’t have a driver’s license nor do I know what their road rules are."

"Don’t care." the Decepticon slipped into the passenger’s side and adjusted the seat for his height.

"Can’t say I didn’t warn you," she muttered.

Rodimus walked along the barren parched land. The pattern of cracked ground indicated a large river once flowed there.

Rodimus shot straight up from sleep and found himself standing on his bed. He panted as his heart raced, his eyes blinked from one corner of his quarters to another like a camera. He startled when his door buzzed.

"Who’s there?!"

The door muffled Rain’s patient voice. "We got trouble, Roddi," she said. "Jackson’s gone."

Rodimus shoved Daniel outside the chainlink wall of his prison. The ugliest, meanest expression twisted Prime’s face. "YOU!"

Witwicky lost wind but recovered and laughed. "What’s a matter, Roddi-poo? Did you lose a wannabe Decepticon? Hmm?"

Rodimus let him drop and Witwicky clattered like a collection of cast iron skillets. The Autobot leader stepped back to regain composure. "I should have realized you and Jackson would pal-up. After all, you’re poured from the same brew. But did you really have to help him escape, Dan-o? Really?"

Witwicky collected himself and glared at a dent in the metal on his right arm. "Yeah, well, what’s done is-"

"DO NOT FINISH THAT." Prime said darkly. "I think, Daniel, I have reached the end; the last chain link."

From her post at the door, Rain unfolded her arms, "We might be able to locate Jackson but it’ll be risky to retrieve him."

"Risky’ is my alternate name," Roddi snarled. He looked to her with measured hope. What did you have in mind?"

Before she answered Daniel tackled from the left. Rodimus slammed the ship’s metal floor as if a wall fell on him. Daniel punched with a metal fist. Bruise. Bruise. Cut. Crunch.

Upper jaw cracked.

Pain impaled his brain and Rodimus faded out.

And down.

"T’was late in the wrokan when I first zorfed you."

He faced right and found Planet Mechlatex where it hung in space. It gleamed with beauty the likes of which Roddi never imagined.

Rodimus returned to reality, the present moment and gulped air. He sensed Rain to the right, Daniel on the left. Witwicky leaned across Prime’s fallen form and choked Rain toward death. With every ounce of strength, Rodimus broke Daniel’s grip.

Rain dropped like a rock, inhaled and coughed hard.

Rodimus ducked when Daniel swung a left-cross. Witwicky aimed to jab Roddi’s chest. Because Daniel’s strike went wide, Rodimus caught him off guard with a strike to the face-the only part not covered by Daniel’s suit.

Witwicky did not lose his balance but surprised by Roddi’s retaliation, he stepped back.

Prime’s own body ached from Witwicky’s assault. Yet he smiled. Blood from his previous injury trickled from the corner of his left eye and lips, lending him a sinister look. "Dan-o, Dan-o, Dan-o! You are an asshole. How the hell did Netty ever put up with you?"

Witwicky spat a glob of blood at Roddi feet. "She liked it rough." He jerked back when Rodimus slapped him. Rodimus slapped him again. Witwicky drilled into Rodimus with his eyes. "What the hell was that for?"

"It’s a love-tap, Dan-o. I wanted to demonstrate my undying loathing for you."

"Well, three words, Rodimus: mutually Assured Contempt."

For Rodimus, the universe shifted into surrealistic slow-motion kike the stroke of an ink pen. Reality jumped off the tracks as a time ripple blew through the Infraction.

Rusti stood at the top of a hill. Her eyes searched the heavens for the Sagittarian Mozart.

The mentally stagnant, stoic city commander stood and tucked two datapads into a file cabinet. "Optimus Prime doesn’t talk to anyone. He has no personal relationships with anyone. So save your sob story for the pub." Magnus slammed the cabinet’s drawer and paused.

"You’re speaking to the city commander." Magnus snorted. "Don’t assume I haven’t noticed." He watched Rodimus spin in his chair. "Look," Magnus continued, "I am not intuitive. I rely on data and communication from others. I don’t’ have Prime instincts. If you want to talk to Prime, you need to think like one."

Let me repeat it: when everything goes completely wrong, events, situations and conditions are rewritten so that there is more right than wrong.

"Quintessons," Rodimus whispered. Everything leading to this moment and thereafter backlashed; a cosmic retaliatory strike against a species of demonic criminals.

The moment ended when Daniel’s form faded into view. His arm raised in slow motion. Atop his wrist sat a makeshift laser weapon. It discharged but the shot flew slow enough for Rodimus to dodge. Without a thought, Roddi pointed to Witwicky and the delinquent flew off his feet and slammed against the far wall.

Rodimus smiled lightly. "Kup always said I was slow in the uptake. Guess you bring out the best of me after all, Dan-o. I shouldn’t be so surprised, however. If Rusti can do it... well, you know."

Rodimus looked to Rain as Daniel, now firmly plastered to the wall, started to rotate like the second hand on a clock. "We need to get to Jackson ASAP."

"What’s an ASAP?"

"As Soon as Possible."

Rain’s lips puckered slightly and her eyes dropped to the right. "We can’t move the Infraction; we’ll attract too much attention. But we do have one-person transports."

Daniel screamed in anger and blathered threats as he ticked upside down; moving toward the seven o’ clock position.

"That might work," Rodimus affirmed. "But we need to stay as back-road as possible. We’re going after Jackson. I don’t want to follow him into dangerous places."

Rain pointed to her head as Daniel rotated to nine o’clock. "Very wise," she praised.

Rodimus smiled as Daniel ticked eleven o’clock before he dropped off the wall with a four-letter word.

Rain did not understand Roddi’s peculiar word for the single-person transport. ‘Motorcycle’ did not apply to a vehicle that did not use a motor. And ‘bike’ made her eyes roll because it sounded far too trite for their favorite form of mobility. However, her heart, warmed by his enthusiasm, swelled with pride; she put them together herself.

Rain secured enough food and medical supplies for three days. Rodimus entered the docking bay with Daniel walking stiffly behind. She glowered at the soulless monster behind Prime. "Why are you bringing him?"

Roddi pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "He needs a change of scenery, some fresher air. Besides, he helped Jackson out, he can help us get him back."

Rain frowned, doubtful of Roddi’s idea. She shook her head. "You’re the Prime."

Rodimus grinned.

Using a gadget Bookworm constructed long ago, Rain selected Cyclonus’ bioelectric patterns and followed the neutrino trajectory in a parallel course between fifty and sixty miles away. After all, Roddi wanted to track the body-snatching dick, not follow.

Her idea of a parallel course was a good one. Rodimus called her a genius and she thought it was sweet until Roddi started to sing:

Well the truck stop cutie comin’ onto me

Rodimus laughed at her expression. "Eddie Rabbitt." he explained. I’m not all that country, but you know, there’s something good in all genres." It warmed his heart when she agreed.

Two and a half hours later they took a short break. They ate and stretched nearby a large tree with metallic leaves shimmering in the light of a clouded sky. Rodimus pretended not to notice when Witwicky stepped away to relieve himself. The Autobot leader inquired the status.

"Yes, he’s still moving," Rain reported. "But there’s some interference in the trail. I don’t think he’s alone anymore."

"Military police caught him?"

"Likely so."

"Jackson is not fond of us, Rain. He’s a yapper that won’t quit."

"That he does."

Rodimus remotely activated the ‘speed scraper’ (as he dubbed it) and nodded for Rain to get back on the road and wait for him.

Daniel tromped through the dried grass and stopped short when Rodimus aimed a handgun at him. Witwicky turned white as paper.

"This is good-bye, Dan-o," Roddi announced.

"You won’t do this, Rodimus!" Daniel’s voice pitched with panic. "Optimus won’t let you!"

Rodimus tried to hold back laughter. "Dan-o, I assure you as certainly as I am breathing oxygen, Optimus will support my decision. We are, after all, both Prime. I’m not going to shoot you, Daniel. But I am going to leave you here to rot. Can’t say it’s been nice. But... it’s been."

Witwicky chased after as Prime headed for the road. "You can’t do this!" Witwicky repeated. He ran for them long after they vanished over the horizon. Witwicky dropped to his knees. In spite of the terror of abandonment he was unable to weep. "MAC."

Rusti and Galvatron sat parked in front of a clothing store. They stared two blocks down and five hundred yards thereafter stood a check point; the barrier between them and the highway.

Rusti tapped her thumb against the steering wheel. "We really did not think this through."

"No," Galvatron concurred. "We did not. What do you suggest we do? If we return, I may not have the chance to do what I need to do."

"Well, I’d suggest a rush-em-and-pray tactic, like my grandpa once told me about. But-"

"They have guns."

"Yes." Rusti realized the checkpoint consisted of cameras, computers, all mechanical devices. "Guns are machines," she said to herself.

"Eh?" Galvatron removed his visor and wrinkled his forehead. He thought the statement silly.

Rusti ignored him. "And if the guns are machines, and if they’re wearing armor..."

The Decepticon twisted left. A twinkle touched his red eyes. "Miss Rusti, I know you love me. But if you’re keeping secrets, I’ll never know what to get you for your birthday."

She eyed him, comically perplexed. "Now you’re sounding like Optimus, Galvatron."

He grinned.

"Put your belt back on. We’re getting out of here." she activated the vehicle and drove forward.

"Have I told you lately that you’re my hero?" he joked.

She grinned but kept her eyes on the road. "No."

Galvatron’s voice turned serious as he clipped the visor over his eyes. "I love you, Rusti. You’ve been nothing but kind to me." She patted his leg but said nothing in turn. She did not need to.

As they approached the 400-yard distance, the cameras swivelled to face each other. All checkpoint lights blacked out. The MP’s danced out their offices, guns at the ready.

At the two-hundred yard mark, the gates opened and the MP’s magically flew through the air and smacked the walls. Their guns floated a minute more before drilling themselves into the ground.

A shiver ran down Galvatron’s spine. He removed the visor again and took in everything as they exited the city unimpeded.

Rusti passed the gates slowly then floored it, racing the automobile as if their lives depended on it. Half a mile later, the checkpoint lights regained power. Alarm systems whooped while the MPs dropped to the ground and scrambled to control the situation. But they found their computers, their cameras and electronic doors all fried from within.

Two miles on the road Galvatron recovered from awe and watched the world shrink behind them. "How did you do that?" he asked.

Rusti shrugged. "Um, I just can." she paused. "When I was little, my parents had to let me stay with Optimus and Roddi because the only time I was not sick was when was around them. When I was nine, my stupid brother dosed me with a drug comprised of alien DNA. It messed me up. Later on, I learned to manipulate images on TV and computer screens. Optimus and Roddi would not allow me to play video games because I could not resist the temptation to-as Roddi said-infringe on copyright and break someone else’s rules." Rusti pursed her lips. "I learned that I can read and control machines. It’s like I can read them as if I designed them myself. When I was nine, I used a motorcycle to leave Central City and make my way back to Fort Max. I really didn’t have to think about it. She grimaced and glanced at her companion. "Don’t you think that’s weird? What’s that make me? I play with Dinobots and fall in love with an Autobot..." she shook her head.

Galvatron watched as they passed an empty and parched land. This part of Mechlatex longed for life and beauty.

Rusti was not finished. "When I turned fifteen, the Matrix Virus manifested and infected the city. That was when the Matrix sang to me."

Galvatron’s interest burst into astonishment. "How and why did the Matrix show interest in you?"

Should she tell him? Rusti held that secret closest to her heart. "I-I can’t tell you that," she replied. She hoped holding a secret would not upset him.

"That’s alright," Galvatron waved off. "I do not need to know something that personal."

Rusti smiled. "Thank you."

They traveled an additional three hours before encountering a checkpoint sitting in the middle of nowhere. Rusti slowed the vehicle and waited for lights, cameras and military police. But nothing stirred. No lights. Galvatron and Rusti exchanged a puzzled expression.

They waited until Galvatron spoke: "Let’s move forward, Rusti. Go slow, in case we encounter a trap."

Rusti steered the automobile forward. Graffiti scared the walls. Broken windows glared at them. Galvatron spotted skeletal remains of someone’s right hand. Laser burns peppered the underpass. Rusti approached half way through then accelerated out and raced three miles before slowing down. She did not need ask what might have happened at the isolated checkpoint; she was relieved to once again escape danger.

They kept to the road an additional three hours when the night stretched shadows across the planet. Rusti forced herself to drive two more lengthy hours before submitting to a much-needed break. She shut the vehicle off. "I have to pee," she announced.

"I shall remain here," Galvatron answered lightly. "Please do not get abducted."

Rusti left the car’s headlights on as she stepped out. A chilled and stiff atmosphere gave her the impression the air was dirty.

She returned to the driver’s side and shuddered. "It sinks out there."

"Not surprising," Galvatron mumbled. "It’s all wasteland. Those hills of dirt out that way cover more than dirt."

Hours of driving through a bleak and vacant landscape numbed Rusti’s brain so that she did not understand what the Decepticon alluded to. "What else would it be other than dirt?"

Galvatron grinned. "Left-overs, Miss Rusti. Most likely the same stuff I’m going to leave myself." He cackled and left the car.

Rusti rolled her eyes. "I walked into that one," she muttered. Galvatron returned. Rusti handed him a bottle of water. He rinsed his hands off and closed the door.

Rusti planted her hands on the steering wheel then dropped them. "I’m really tired, Galvatron. We’ve been on the road for nine hours.

"Nine point six," he corrected.

"Exactly. I need to sleep for a few moments. Unless you’d rather drive."

"No," Galvatron repeated. "If I drive, I will want to fly. And the itch to fly is crawling under my skin like a colony of bees." Rusti could tell the smile in his voice. "Besides," he continued, "you’ve been upgraded from chaperone to chauffeur."

She slowly blinked. "I am an American, Galvatron. We do taxi cabs."

He smirked. "Works for me. You sleep. I’ll be outside."

She thought it gentlemanly of him to give her privacy. "Wake me in thirty minutes." she handed him two packages of food before he departed.

Galvatron ate the colorful snacks with little thought. His mind stretched as far as the road ahead. His destiny teased him like the need to fly. What choices waited for him? Would he get Cyclonus back? His heart hung heavy. They had to get Cylonus back!

A bleak pale light peered through the dusty atmosphere. Surprised to see dawn already, Galvatron watched the sun’s scattered light grow from the southeast. But with the light came no sound. No bird or beast, no bugs or other life forms welcomed the yellow-white glow. And the air did not warm.

The light illuminated shapes wrought of death and disaster. The remains of huge ships rose on either side of the highway. They towered thirty, forty feet. Their wings rose out of the ground like manufactured rocks. Refuse clogged and choked the ground; nothing grew. Puddles of quick mud stagnated with humanoid skeletal remains. The graveyard around them contained so much debris and bodies, it appeared more like a museum of gratuitous violence than a reminder of wars fought and lost.

What horror, Galvatron thought, must Psyklenox wield within his own regime. People on the Cygnus space station laughed and played while multitudes suffered and died at the hands of a robotic abomination.

People lived on Mechlatex slaving away for the greater good of an indifferent government. And when Galvatron remembered that the natives of Mechlatex were not permitted to have families, he realized their souls were mere parts of a machine. If one broke, it was replaced.

End of story.

Now he dreaded the next city. He wished for a short and swift resolution; to find and rescue Cyclonus, to find the Automatron, solve his own mystery and get the Pitt out.

How could this be their future home?

For the first time in years, Galvatron’s Decepticon-radar rang loud. He searched the sky and sure enough, he recognized the shape of a Sweep. He rushed to the car and opened the driver’s side door. "Rusti!" he said with panic.

She sucked in air and winced at the morning light. "Thirty minutes already?

"We need to hide. Now. A Sweep is headed toward us."

"What?" Galvatron grabbed her bag and half dragged her out the car. They rushed off the road and under a wrecked ship. Galvatron kept all his senses sharp while she tried to wake up.

The Sweep landed with a loud thump. He walked back and forth until he spoke. "I know you’re here, Metaxan! Come out and I will not kill you." a long silence followed before the Sweep spoke again. "Scourge, this is Number Two. Yes. I found a car not four miles outside Laktromycix. It’s got plates from... Neugoch. Is that coincidence?" Pause. "No, I see nothing. Of course I looked! How lazy do you think I am?"

Number Two growled and his footfalls stomped around the car. "How does he expect me to find anything in this cesspool? Come out, Metaxan! Come out before I start shooting things up!" Pause. "I’m going to count to ten and if you do not come out, I’ll shoot you out!"

Rusti quietly opened her water and drank while the Decepticon counted. The air stank and killed her appetite.

"TEN!" the Sweep declared.

Rusti rolled her eyes and mentally activated the car. The vehicle’s alarm screamed and the Sweep squeaked in surprise.

Galvatron smirked and nodded with approval.

The car shut off and remained still.

Because she could not see the Sweep from their location, Rusti did nothing further.

"WHO’S OUT THERE?"

Galvatron knew the Sweeps and their tinfoil leader, Scourge, were a group of bumbling clowns. But he never paid them close enough attention. Cyclonus always kept the ineptitude in line. Was it truly little wonder why he and Cyclonus rarely succeeded when two-thirds of their army suffered from a negative brain cell count? Certainly much of their failures were of Galvatron’s own fault; his mind was hung out to dry once Unicron lost his head. Galvatron cursed his own arrogance.

Pik-BOOM!

Rusti gasped with a start.

Pik-BOOM!

Galvatron crawled back and sat beside her. "He’s trying to flush us out. Hopefully he’ll give up and go face Scourge."

"He’s going to kill us!" she hissed.

Pik-BOOM!

P-p-p-pik-BOOM!

Galvatron stared at her and blinked. "No he won’t. He’s not smart enough to stay here long enough to find something. He’s a Sweep."

Rusti let that sink in. "I thought the Sweeps were like a wolf pack."

Galvatron tugged on a light smile. "More like merekats."

Rusti had to cover her mouth and bow over to stifle her laughter.

Just as Gavlatron said, the Decepticon clownoid gave up and shot away. His targets waited fifteen minutes before emerging from the wreckage. Several fires belched smoke across the land. Number Two was anything but subtle.

The little car sat where they left it. Rusti examined the vehicle and counted it fortunate the Sweep ignored the humble mode of transport.

"It’s a good thing that imbecile did not crush the car," Galvatron grumbled.

Rusti settled behind the steering wheel. She released her hair from the tie and swiftly brushed it. "Or what? You’d insult him to death? She watched him close the door and squirm until comfortable. She tied back her brown hair."You’re not that good, Galvatron."

The Decepticon popped his neck. "Everything I needed to know I learned from Optimus."

Rusti looked doubtful and activated the vehicle. "He’s not that insulting." she defended.

"That only tells me you don’t know him well enough."

"I’ve known him all my life." she scoffed. "Now, I’ve never truly seen him angry. That much is true. But he can be so gentle." Rusti diverted her eyes to the road and bit her lip to keep from weeping. If only Optimus could have been with them.

They traveled in silence. The Decepticon gradually turned restless. He minimized the window then rolled it back up; down, up, down.

"I think there’s a radio someplace along the dashboard, Galvatron," Rusti politely suggested.

"Ooh!" he mocked, "Just what I always wanted! Stupidity and nonsense!"

"Sometimes news."

"And wouldn’t that be spectacular? All the propaganda I could choke on." the Decepticon pitched his voice high to imitate a female reporter, "Just sit in your car and let me brainwash you with slanted and falsified information. "I will praise Psyklenox while your brain fries."

Rusti’s snigger turned to laughter. "Stop."

"I could sing," Galvatron offered instead.

"No," Rusti objected. "Do NOT sing."

"You think I’m going to break into a bad song?"

"No. I just don’t want to hear the wail of a dying walrus." she skipped a beat then added: "Rodimus can sing. I doubt you can."

"Wait one moment there, Mizz Rusti. I do not know where you got the notion that Rodimus Prime can tell the difference between a melody and a squeaking metal gate. But I’ve been subjected to Rodimus’ disturbing caterwauling. And not one note was on key."

Rusti rolled her eyes. "He can sing." she assured him. "He used to sing me to sleep when I was very young."

"Well," Galvatron huffed, "that explains why your hair is so curly."

A ring accompanied by a flashing red light saved Gavlatron from the wrath of a redhead. Rusti stopped the car and watched the light until a holographic map appeared below the dashboard.

WARNING. CHECKPOINT TWO MILES. PLEASE HAVE ALL TRAVEL AND IDENTITY CARDS ON HAND. TOLL PRICE: NINETY-FIVE STANDS.

Rusti’s shoulders sank. "Ohmigod. This is what we get for stealing someone else’s car."

"Nonsense," Galvatron waved off. "We just need to charm them. You’re good at charming people."

Rusti grimaced. "I don’t even know what that means."

"Oh," Galvatron’s voice turned serious. "Looks like they’ve sent a welcoming committee."

"What?" Rusti followed Galvatron’s pointing finger to a craft in the sky. It dived like an eagle, aiming for prey.

"Get out of the car!" Galvatron escaped first. But Rusti took an extra second to grab her bag. She dashed to one side of the road, he toward the other as a set of bright lasers burned the ground and blew the car.

Rusti’s distance did not avoid the resulting shockwave. She hit the ground and scraped her hands and arms in the gravel. Her eyes shed tears as pain shot from the cuts and scrapes and hit her stomach.

A rough metal hand gripped her entire form and Rusti lost wind.

"You’re not a Metaxan!" Number Two sneered. "You’re a Human! What’s a squishy, stinky Human doing in this sector of space?"

Galvatron’s voice rang clear, using his "mighty leader" voice: "WIRE TRAP! Release the female NOW!"

The Sweep gasped, astonished. "How do you know my name?! Who told you my name?"

"Your ancient ancestor, the Percolator told me, you micro moron!

Number Two bent slightly over and held his right hand back as if to keep a toy from a child. The Sweep’s movements allowed Rusti a clear view of the checkpoint station. A distortion wave rolled from the horizon. Reality shifted and blurred as the wave headed for them.

The former Decepticon leader noticed her gaze cast north toward the horizon. Then he saw the distortion wave as it hit the checkpoint.

An unnatural scream erupted from the distance. The checkpoint station vanished before the wave crashed upon Rusti, Galvatron and the micro moron.

Magnus exploded out the tavern doors. His targets packed Cloudstreaker into a nearby antigrav vehicle. The Metaxan vehicle veered from the tavern and hovered leisurely. The abductors did not realize they were followed until their vehicle bounced with Magnus’ weight when he leapt on the back.

Startled, the driver pushed the sedan into hard drive while one of his cohort twisted half out the passenger window and blindly shot at Magnus.

The Major-general took a slice to his upper right arm as he gripped the roof of the car. Tears flew from his eyes and Magnus grit his teeth.

The jerk with gun twisted round again and hammered Magnus’ right hand. Magnus took the pounding while he planned his next move.

Between the car’s speed, the wind in his face and the burning pain in his arm Magnus’ strength wavered. His hands had been crushed before. But organic life felt pain to a greater degree than he ever assumed. Being squishy-soft was far from advantageous.

The coup de gras: Jerk With Gun cracked the gun against Magnus’ skull.

It pissed him off and he roared at the scar-faced trafficker. The vehicle jerked left so hard Magnus lost his hold and flew off. He slammed back-first against a concrete wall and splattered the sidewalk like a dead dog. His visor clattered along the cement.

Magnus counted one number at a time. Impk. Rov. Stok. Aibu. Tekchak. Pak. Breathe in. Hold. Breath out. Hold. His head spun. His heart thrummed; a war drum calling for will, self discipline and inner strength forged by millions of years on the battlefield.

By Primus, Magnus was NOT abandoning Cloudstreaker!

Chop. S’vet. Opil. Pik. Pak. Tekchak. Aibu. Stok. Rov...

Magnus pushed up. Impk. The fallen visor sat a foot away. Magnus mentally sneered at the ‘damn toy’. He stood. "I’m coming, Cloudy," he swore. He staggered at first. Two steps forward. A street light supported weight when his legs would not.

Magnus was not a student of philosophy or superstition but he began to doubt the notion of coincidence when a Metaxan native rode up the street on an antigravity one-person cruiser.

Magnus grinned in spite of pain. "I’m coming, Cloudy."

The cyclist owner didn’t surrender his ride easily. Magnus earned bruises on his shins, a swollen bottom lip and a set of bruised knuckles. Even when he explained Cloudy’s dilemma, the cyclist refused to comply.

Now the native lay prone on the sidewalk while Magnus searched twenty minutes for the criminals. He tried not to think how auto theft also made him a criminal.

Magnus located the trafficker’s automobile as it headed for the exit checkpoint. The same slaghead who tried to gun Magnus down shot two MP’s. Each officer took a bullet in the eyes. Magnus seethed and shadowed the faster cruiser beyond the checkpoint, out the city and onto the highway. He wondered why the checkpoint’s power was out but Ultra Magnus did not dwell on it.

Cruiser and cycle left dust trails on the road for two hours before Cloudy’s abductors yanked the automobile left off the main road. Magnus copied. He ducked and wound this way and that to avoid scrub brush and ancient debris. Fifteen minutes later they led him onto an old road, cracked and weathered from neglect and disuse. The road dipped then rose steadily until it narrowed and squeezed against the lip of a cliff. A nasty hundred-foot drop yawned into a deep canyon on the left. Magnus focused on the car so as not to consider the plunge waiting for new victims.

Ten minutes of hairpin turns ended at the edge of an old ghost town.

Magnus scanned everything as he moved inward. Strange sounds bounced from building to wrecked building. A ghostly figure dashed in and out of Magnus’ peripheral vision.

"Not a good idea," he muttered as if speaking to the criminals. Trusting his well-honed instincts, the commander searched the main road, keeping north. He hoped to cut the perps at the checkpoint, if there was one.

Something large and winged dropped from the ruins to his right. Magnus swerved left and kept going. The screech following him signaled trouble and moments later several other creatures rushed to the streets.

Not far from his eleven, the automobile thunked as if something hit it or vice versa. Three structures later Magnus found the getaway car. Its smashed front guaranteed the abductors were going nowhere.

Jerk With Gun stepped out the front seat, his piece trained on Cloudy. Magnus slowed the bike to a standstill.

"That’s close enough, hero," Jerk warned. "Give us the bike or the girl dies."

Magnus glowered. "Give me Cloudstreaker and you can have the bike."

"Bike first."

"No."

Jerk raised his eyes to the ruins around them "Do you hear that, Hero? Those are mutants, people cursed by the changing planet. They smell your blood."

"Hand over Cloudstreaker or they’ll be smelling yours."

The driver opened his door and staggered out as Jerk opened the back door and dragged Cloudy to her feet. He crushed her with one arm and trained the gun to her head with the other. "Bike." he ordered.

"Girl. First!" Magnus countered. "Or I’ll destroy the damn bike and we’ll all end up stuck here."

That spoke volumes and Jerk released Cloudy. Magnus retreated from the bike and the driver raced for it.

Cloudstreaker rushed for Magnus as Jerk went for the only working vehicle among them.

But the driver wasn’t willing to share. He activated the cruiser and started to drive off. Jerk shot him twice and ran for the ownerless vehicle.

Two creatures savagely pounced upon the driver’s body as Jerk sped away.

Magnus steered Cloudy from the gruesome sight as they heard the crunch-snap of breaking bones.

"Car," he ordered simply. The Major-general took the driver’s side, Cloudstreaker the passenger’s. He studied the dashboard and tried to activate the vehicle as she sat in silent shock.

Magnus tried four times to activate the car. He pounded the steering wheel, frustrated. He sighed and collected himself. Silence turned the vehicles’ interior into a tomb. "Any ideas?" he finally asked her. She silently shook her head.

He sighed again. "Come on, Cloudstreaker. You’re the genius between us."

"I’m just a techie, Commander." she returned softly.

Magnus was not in the mood to deal with drama. "That’s not true," his voice did not convey the cheer he attempted.

She still did not meet his eyes. "You should not have come after me."

Confused, Magnus searched for words. "Why?"

Her answer came strained and even Magnus knew when a girl was about to cry. "Because... you’re supposed to keep an optic on Optimus Prime."

The Autobot general tried to keep his voice level. "Parthon and Galvatron are still there-"

"That’s not the point," Cloudy returned sternly. She nailed him with teary eyes. "It’s just another assignment; a duty expected of you. You have priorities, Commander and I am not one of them."

Yes, he was caught in a moment of drama with an emotional femme. But it still stung when Cloustreaker got out the car and slammed the door. Magnus sighed again. "We don’t have time for this," he mumbled. He exited the vehicle and gazed at her over the car’s damaged roof. "Cloustreaker, we have no time for this-"

"Sir!" she shouted. "Yes, Sir! I’ll get right on it, SIR!"

He opened his mouth to accuse her of petulence. But even he knew better than to say it. Magnus was socially awkward. Not stupid.

Cloudstreaker returned to the front seat and searched every visible pocket and compartment. She tossed out scraps of material, bits of broken plastic and a small flathead screwdriver.

Magnus gave her room to calm down then decided it time to resolve the situation. "Tell me what we need to do."

Cloudy wiped her brow, suddenly contrite of her outburst. "We need to pull the car free." She and Magnus stared at the front end of the damaged vehicle. The rock wall held steadfast while the cheap metal suffered an acute case of ‘accordion syndrome.’

How could Cloudy salvage the wreck? Magnus hesitated. One step at a time, he told himself. He leaned against the car’s door frame and pushed.

Cloudy spoke with a lighter voice. "Commander is the car in neutral?"

He paused, a little embarrassed. The city commander leaned inside the vehicle, searched and found the gear controls. A lever under the steering column gave him directions and he made the switch. He resumed his position against the door frame and glanced at the femme who took position on her side of the car. "Ready?" he asked her.

They pushed and at first the car did not budge. But with an ounce of extra effort they tugged the vehicle free and rolled it several feet away.

Cloudy studied the front end and tried to lift the bonnet. He joined her and they pushed and pulled with no result. With a frustrated sigh, the femme tech stared at it.

"Seems we need to go on a scavenger hunt, Cloudstreaker," Magnus suggested. He waited while she stared as if mentally kicking the automobile.

The next second, she actually did. Magnus winced because she kicked it hard. The bonnet popped open and the Major-general suppressed his laughter.

"Yes," the femme agreed. "We need tools." Cloudy picked a direction without another word. She took a road one- o’clock of their position. Magnus proceeded to follow.

At first the ruins offered little more than rotting homes and an office with shattered windows.

The further they ventured, the more remnants they found. Old street lights towered above them. Rusted bicycles lay in overgrown yards.

The humanoid Autobots stood in the middle of a street, indecisive and unsettled.

"I’m wondering, Commander," Cloudstreaker said softly, "did the people here abandon the town or were they evacuated?"

The homes offered their former occupants more privacy than the first two villages the group encountered on their travels. The wood-and-metal houses held enough space for two people. Venturing into the nearest home, Magnus led Cloudstreaker into its small yard where two trees kep vigil. "Let’s hope the latter, Cloudstreaker," he replied. "Evacuated people leave with basic necessities."

She wordlessly nodded. Cloudy searched the old house’s outside while Magnus tore off a branch and stripped leaves and twigs until all that remained was a fork at the top. He examined the area and found a clump of vines at the house’s north side. Wrapping the ‘fork’, Magnus stuffed it with dried grass and dead leaves before adding chunks of green wood between the pieces. He lit the tinder and waited for his homemade torch to stabilize.

Cloudy returned from the other side and pointed in her former direction. "Found an open place, Ultra Magnus. There seems to be quite a few useful items still inside."

They searched the ancient, dusty house. Magnus grew puzzled as they traversed room to room. Photographs, furniture, dishes and clothing occupied a tiny world long since forgotten. The people in photographs did not resemble the current population.

Cloudstreaker made a triumphant cry from the kitchen. Magnus joined her as she tugged a small case from under the sink. The femme opened her new found chest and picked at a few familiar tools and two that not so familiar.

Magnus nodded, glad they found something. He searched cupboards, now humming a jump rope song. He found a pantry closet and grunted at a row of glass jars containing dried and withered mold.

I’m sorry, Cloudstreaker," he said, "Looks like nothing’s on the menu."

She did not look him in the eye. "Okay. We may end up spending the night here, anyway."

They tried to make themselves comfortable in the deep dark. But when insomnia got the best of both, Magnus and Cloudy ventured outside.

The lonely town harbored little in creature comforts, or food. They decided to return to the car. Magnus used the last of this three torches by the time they returned. Cloudy set her tools and two steel pipes on the ground and leaned against the vehicle. Magnus made a parameter search and circled the area.

Cloudy rested her eyes at the horizon where the world fell into a deep canyon and rose again along a mountainside. She realized that even should she be able to repair some parts of the vehicle, they still had no power source.

Magnus returned as dawn slowly chased off the night. He brought her water in a clean jar confiscated from the house.

"Is it clean enough?" she asked.

"I filtered it twice. We probably should boil it to be sure."

"We have lots of time to do so," she returned. "I don’t know if we can fix this thing. And even if I could, I don’t know what its power source requires. It’s not self-perpetuating."

"Does it run on fossil fuels?"

"No. I don’t think it’s electro-chemical." she sighed. "I’m not sure what we’re going to do, Commander. We don’t know where we are and if we venture out, we’ll be vulnerable with no guarantee of resources. We don’t know much about the planet. We don’t know which botanical are edible and there doesn’t seem to be any wildlife."

Magnus tried to smile to cheer her up. "There are other houses and buildings waiting to be explored, Cloudy. We’re bound to find something." she did not answer but her troubled expression said everything.

Magnus pocketed his hands and glanced away. Their deserted island situation was not what he looked for when he set out to rescue her. What could he do or say to give her hope? Playing leader really was not helping. Magnus set aside his inner city commander and aimed for a more personal approach.

"Cloudstreaker," he said, "I’m sorry. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I came for you. And I’m sorry I have ignored your input." Not so personal, he thought. Magnus dug deeper to find the courage to say what was really on his mind. "I did not notice how you felt about me. I, uh, I didn’t think anyone could care about me like you do."

* Her eyes lifted to his face and Magnus tired not to trip over his own words. "I’m not very good at this. At things on a personal level, I mean." he paused and let the truth do the talking. "I don’t know how. I didn’t, I never thought anyone could... love me." There. The secret hung between them like a cold wet towel.

She smiled and Magnus’ anxiety eroded. "Relationships aren’t magic, Ultra Magnus. They’re built over time. They’re built on common ground. I admire your strength and poise. And you’re very courageous. You’ve taught me how to be brave. And you came for me. You should be with Optimus but you came for me."

"And I will do it again if I have to," he added.

They searched until night draped over the land. By then Magnus and Cloudstreaker found a suitable place for shelter. An intense scavenger hunt turned up candles made from tree wax. Magnus found a ‘fire striker’ and to their delight, they discovered a small collection of preserved food.

Magnus unpacked the first of two boxes. He produced a glass jar and pretended to read it. "This one says ‘FUBAR ENERGON." He handed it to her as Cloudy laughed. His heart swelled when he realized he made a good joke and she liked it.

"This is... green and grey." he set that beside him. Next jar: "GALVATRON’S UBER-BITCH SPECIAL."

"Oh!" Cloudy blurted, "Let me have that one!"

He obliged and produced the fourth jar. "It looks... red." Pause. "Spicy, maybe?"

She batted her lashes. "If that’s the case, I’ll have to propose a trade."

Tossing the box aside, Magnus planted his jars before him. Cloudy copied. "You open one first," the city commander told her.

Cloudy’s blue eyes bounced from one mystery eatery to the other. "This one." she picked up FUBAR ENERGON and tried to open it. And she tried to open it. The third failed attempt left her sighing with frustration. "This flesh-and-calcium existence drives me off the rails, Commander."

"Magnus," the Major-general corrected. "Me too. Humans deal with it because they’re born to it." he proffered his hand and she gave him the stubborn jar. Tapping the offensive lid on the cement floor twice, Magnus opened the container with ease. He smiled at her astonished reaction. "I’ve seen Rusti do it a time or two. Not magic, just a little know-how."

Cloudstreaker shook her head. She tucked a few strands of white hair behind her ear. "Well, I’d like to know how to get back into my own form. I miss flying. I miss being able to shift on a whim. I hate having to wear clothing and brushing my teeth and using the toilet. And I really hate the smell."

Magnus smiled. "Me too. I miss your flying. You’re amazing. You pilot better than the Twins drive. And that crazy maneuver you pulled on Cratis, a vertical lift with a twist; it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen."

She blushed brightly and smiled. "Thank you."

"Not at all." Magnus popped a sample from his jar as Cloudy did hers. Both their eyes expanded with surprise. Magnus chewed twice and reached for their only source of water.

Cloudstreaker sucked her cheeks in. She coughed and sputtered. Her eyes watered and so did his.

"WHOA!" they chorused. "You gotta try this!"

Pause. The Autobots crossed gazes, both wiping tears.

Magnus smirked. "I guess yours is as hot as mine."

"Oh no," Cloudy corrected. "This wasn’t hot. It’s..." she dropped her blue eys, searching. "Tart. Yes. It’s very tart."

They traded samples and to Cloudy’s surprise, Magnus giggled. She ate her sample with caution while the city commander rubbed his cheeks.

"More?" he asked. She obliged him with a grin and proceeded to open the second jar. The two spent another hour trading samples. Cloudy’s second jar tasted like dried meat. Magnus’ had an earthy flavor that neither of them liked.

"You know, Cloudy," Magnus said after a while, "this situation is almost fun. I’m glad you’re sharing it with me."

Her cheeks burned and words failed her. The femme settled against the wall behind her. "I didn’t know what happened to me when my body changed. I was so scared at first. I think what I hate about this the most is feeling so small. I’ll never look at Humans the same way again. I never realized how well they can adjust to their circumstances.

Magnus nodded and picked at the hem of his pants. "Speaking of adjustment, how fast can you work on the Mozart? We will need to escape within hours upon returning."

Cloudstreaker drew a deep breath and stared into space. "I have no idea, Ultra Magnus. I mean, remember that the Mozart was damaged, not just kicked off-line. If there was a way the ship could repair itself, we could be out of here within hours."

Magnus scowled. ‘You’re itching to fly. I want to get back to the ship. I don’t do nothing very well."

"You would not be a city commander if you weren’t," Cloudy answered.

Little by little the two Autobots found a way to get comfortable enough to sleep. Magnus woke every ten minutes and forced himself to return to sleep.

Thunder muttered and woke Magnus up. How many times had he slept-and-woke? Eight? Ten? Thunder echoed over the sky again and the Major-general chose to investigate. He stepped outside as Cloudy came to life. Sunshine beamed weak and grey and illuminated an approaching storm from the...west? Was it west or north?

The cracking sound of breaking plastic proceeded another roll of thunder. The same roll sounded over and over, louder and louder.

Magnus looked left and his eyes practically fell out. A gigantic distortion wave swallowed building, hill and street. The city commander shut the door and leaned against it.

Cloudstreaker stood and wiped her hands of imaginary dirt. Before the first question left his lips the room around them changed from dark, dusty and dilapidated to fresh with new carpeting and photographs on the walls. Magnus and Cloudstreaker turned a 360 and met one another’s eyes.

Without word, Magnus stepped out the door and Cloudy followed. The sun shone bright and clear. The ruins vanished as if the Autobots stepped into another world.

"Magnus," Cloudy said with a small voice, "did we just experience a time storm?"

"That would be my guess, yes."

The neighborhood, once dismal and empty, now rejuvenated with small homes, green front yards and children playing in the street. A strange animal with a leather shell ran alongside two humanoid boys like an Earth dog. The front door they stepped out from closed then opened and a child peeked out. The apparent mother whose straight brown hair draped over her shoulders tugged the child in then stared at Magnus and Cloudstreaker with suspicion.

"Swra loog oph?"

Magnus: "uhh..."

Cloudy held out her hands, palms spread. She smiled nervously. "Sorry," she said sweetly. She and Magnus slowly withdrew to the curb.

They continued down the street, bewildered and confused. The native citizens watched them, equally confused and puzzled.

Magnus paused at the corner of a four-way street. Hands on hips, he surveyed the new world left, right and straight ahead. ‘Maybe we can find the transportation necessary to leave."

Cloudy gazed at him with an inch more hope. "How do you mean?"

"Well, there are garages and we’ve seen bicycles or a version thereof. Street lights, porch lights... not all that different from Earth’s 1960's era."

Cloudy bowed her head with a smile. "Your idea is sweet, Commander."

"But?"

"But we don’t speak their language."

Again Magnus turned quiet. He spotted a bus at the far distant left. "We will figure this out, Cloudy. We’ll get back to the others." he pointed to a sign that indicated the bus stopped a the next corner.

Aiming for their new destination, Magnus and Cloudy stepped onto the street. She checked to the right, he to the left and took two steps forward.

The world for them tipped and twisted. The houses, the trees and the street shrank and shrank.

Magnus fell forward and caught himself. Cloudstreaker dropped to her knees and bowed over, momentarily disoriented.

Magnus noticed first. He gasped. "I’m an Autobot again!"

Cloudstreaker squealed with glee and they twisted about and hugged each other, laughing with joy.

Magnus shined. "I’ll race you out of town." He transformed first, into jet mode and she followed with a joyful burst of engines.

Optimus woke sick and groggy. He sluggishly reached for Rusti across the bed and felt worse to discover her absence. "Little Bell," he whispered.

The bed dipped to the right. Someone placed a round cold object on his forehead. The Autobot leader tried to focus his blurred vision.

"There he is," said a female with a light and comforting voice. "His temperature is coming down."

Optimus saw a smile; it was not her smile. He flexed his right hand as Rodimus’ name fell from his lips.

"I think he will be fine now," the same female declared. "Give him time to pull himself together."

"Thank you, Feffy." Parthon answered quietly.

Optimus’ head cleared as the door whooshed open and thudded closed. Parthon dropped into a nearby chair.

A question finally cleared Prime’s throat. "What happened? I thought-"

Captain Parthon’s answer reflected Optimus’ own weariness. "Magnus shot out of the tavern like a woolwrag caught on fire. You passed out. I sent Bookworm and Pipsqueak to the Infraction."

Optimus processed the words and pieced events together with clumsy assumptions. "Dot?"

"She staying with us. She knows Laktromycix better than I and knows Plucky’s contact. So there’s just the four of us right now."

The Autobot leader tried to sit up. "Where are Rusti and Galvatron?"

"A good question." Parthon produced the piece of paper and offered it to Prime. "Fortunately for you, your wife knows to leave notes. But I can’t read it."

Optimus waved the note off, knowing her well enough to know its contents. Parthon slipped the letter into the stolen book and paced twice. "As much as I find your sudden condition inconvenient, Optimus Prime, it has proven advantageous. Your sudden collapse might help us get a free pass straight to Laktromycix."

"How?"

"There’s no medical facility here. Anyone of upper-class who is seriously injured is flown to the ward in the capital city. And I daresay, you may have such a condition. Would you not agree?"

"Yes," Prime replied. "It’s not contagious, but I will need medical attention."

"Indeed. And since you are under my employment, I will have to be there to handle paperwork and expenses. And of course, I go nowhere without my staff."

Once again, Plucky made all the arrangements. Optimus did not have to fake his symptoms. A nurse from the airlift diagnosed him with some off-world illness and called the condition serious, but non-contagion.

The forty-five minute flight ended with a soft landing. A poke of nurses surrounded Optimus and Parthon. The emergency assembly crammed into an elevator and waited for the right floor. The elevator paused at the eighth floor. The door opened with a ding and one nurse took the first step. Dot blocked her.

"I don’t think so, Star Bright. The General’s staff deserves better treatment than Level 8." Without permission, the old lady hit button #3.

Optimus slipped into and out of half dreams and half memories. Roddi, he recalled, sat beside him in medbay some years ago. Perhaps during the Virus’ first manifestation. The senior Prime struggled to remember exactly when.

Dark and foggy memories...

Rodimus appeared uneasy. "Prime, did you notice a shadow in the Matrix or in your dreams?"

Existence.

Not enough time.

Moisture burned Prime’s eyes. The last month was so exciting and everyday so beautiful and now it was over. His heart sank. The last time he held her was the last time he held her.

It was fair. It was more than fair. But the temporary situation was too short. And too short was not fair.

Dot’s voice punctured the silence. "How you doing, Handsome?"

"Better, I think."

The old lady secured the sheet under Prime’s left arm. "They found you deficient of something. Pretty critical."

"Deficient? Of what?"

She eyed him skeptically. "Care to guess?"

Prime shook his head.

Parthon cleared his throat. "Here it’s called effidium. The Quintessons call it Cybertonium."

Now the captain caught Prime’s attention. "What-Where does Cybertonium come from around here?"

Dot jumped in again. "From this planet, oddly enough. I had to play a good song about your origins. They couldn’t understand why your body required cybertonium."

Optimus did not know what to say to that. He hesitated before turning to the captain. "Parthon have you heard anything from Rusti?"

Parthon shook his head. "Plucky is working his magic to get us out."

Optimus struggled to sit up and proceeded to remove tags, needles and patches. But Dot stopped him at the needle. "You’ll alert the nurse. She cautioned, the needles are movement sensitive.

Optimus studied her before tracing the needles power source. "Be quiet," he told the monitors. The mechanism shut down and Prime removed the IV."

Parthon folded his arms. "Is that a Transformer ability?

"No," Prime replied as he ripped off one patch then another. "It’s a Prime thing." He reached for the visor and slipped it on.

The hospitals fire alarm rang loud and shrill. The Infraction’s captain grinned. "That would be Plucky. Dot, take the look-out." Parthon helped Prime into his clothes as fast as Optimus could move. Dot kept her eyes on the hallway until captain and leader joined her outside the door. Parthon supported Optimus down the hall and into the elevator. The Autobot drew breath to speak but Parthon’s finger crossed his lips and pointed to the overhead camera.

The elevator landed gently and Dot stepped out first. Hospital staff, volunteers, patients and doctors raced two and fro like mice rushing through a battlefield. The old lady silently signaled it safe for Prime and Parthon to emerge. They stepped aside and took a seat at a nearby metal bench.

Parthon surveyed the environment, gauged Prime’s current stability and leaned to speak into the Autobot’s ear. "We’ll wait for Plucky."

Optimus nodded and kept his focus on the floor. A voice over from a nearby speaker called everyone’s attention. "Attention, all staff and patrons must evacuate in a controlled and orderly fashion. Prepare your ID’s for inspection."

As far as Prime could tell, no one paid attention. They came and left, checked on friends, coworkers and acquaintances. Out the corner of his visor, Prime spotted Plucky heading toward them as if he were on roller skates. The Infraction’s second-in-command dropped to the bench and leaned toward Parthon.

The captain nodded and leaned toward Prime. "We’re taking another exit."

Driven right and around a corner, Optimus escaped with his companions into a patio. They climbed two cases of stairs and rounded the building’s eastern wing. They slipped behind two security checkpoints and melted into the crowd as people migrated to other parts of the neighborhood. Only then did Optimus and Parthon see how the emergency situation occurred; someone used a rare (illegal) neutron bomb and vaporized the corner of the hospital’s fourth floor.

Optimus stared in disbelief. "I didn’t think neutron weapons existed anymore."

Parthon smiled wryly. "That’s Plucky. Always a surprise. Let’s get out of here."

They found a measure of safety within the confines of a tiny restaurant. Optimus’ thoughts were not on food or drink. He tried to reach out to Rodimus and hoped their link was not diminished.

A wave of relief assailed the Autobot leader when Rodimus answered. Only one word came to him, but it gave Prime one less thing to worry about.

Parthon nudged Prime. "Lower your eyes."

"What?"

"Bow your head."

Optimus obeyed as a waitress approached. "You want water?" she asked.

"No," Plucky replied. "D’ron for all of us, please. Soup for our silent friend there and fogmot for me and the general."

The waitress pointed to Prime. "Is he okay? He’s not sick, is he?"

Parthon smiled kindly. "Post-op. The pain killers upset his stomach."

The waitress made a pitying sound and turned away. Optimus winced. Parthon was not lying about his stomach. He suppressed the discomfort and focused. "How are we to find Ryumee if our faces have been recorded by hospital cameras?"

Parthon smiled when the waitress returned with drinks. She set napkins and flatware before them and again vanished. The captain sipped a light green drink. "Don’t know yet. We were going to do this altogether. Safety in numbers. But it seems no matter where we are, you and your people attract trouble."

At first, Parthon’s statement amused the Autobot leader. But thinking on what their benefactor said, Optimus realized just how much an inconvenience they have been for the Infraction’s crew. "I am sorry, Captain Parthon. I know we have disrupted and complicated your lives."

Parthon drew a sigh and sat straight. "It’s not your fault. That lies with Pissant. However, I can’t complain." He gave Optimus a wry smile. "It’s actually been fun."

"Not for long," Plucky warned. "The city will be crawling with MP’s at any point and instigate martial law."

The old lady nodded toward Prime. "How are you, Optimus?"

"Rodimus is coming," he said instead. A veil crossed his vision. Prime lifted his eyes and stared at Darkness as the Virus hissed and stared back. It shook its triangular head and tried to back away. A chain wrought of technology and Optimus’ fortitude kept the monster in place. The Virus grew determined to break its chains. Although, strangely enough, Darkness was not interested in tormenting Its bearer. Something called It from afar. Something attracted the Virus’ attention like the blood of distant prey.

A bowl of soup now sat before the ailing Autobot leader. His companions encouraged him to eat and take his time. Prime slowly ate. He wished with every spoonful he were with Rusti, in a quiet room, on a rainy day, far from trouble.

By the time his companions finished eating, Optimus felt better. They talked him into eating a piece of cake before exiting the restaurant. Optimus followed them like a child too confused to engage in adult conversation.

Dot took his hand and the group traveled from street corner to corner. Bright lights and large cameras followed them everywhere. The planet’s native population marched about their business with closed mouths and drawn faces.

"You!" Three MP’s came right for them. "Identification!"

As if well practiced, Parthon produced his first. Plucky stepped in next and started asking the MP’s questions about new ID’s. Dot slipped Optimus’ ID into his pocket before handing the third officer hers.

Optimus silently surrendered his while Darkness hissed. The Autobot leader, too preoccupied with the Virus, did not hear the brief and light conversation between Parthon and the MP officers. Nevertheless, Optimus was surprised when one MP laughed and waved them on. Prime wanted to ask what the captain told the them but Dot took his hand again and warned him to remain quiet.

Two city blocks down and left, Plucky led them into a more pleasant area of Laktromycix. Trees and shrubs from other worlds framed the sidewalks. Solar glass panels paved the streets and anti-gravity lights hovered above them.

Propaganda signs glared from brick walls while entertainment fliers burst with high-potency color. Plucky and Dot led them across one more street. A grand building rose from the ground like an alien palace. A walkway framed by silver shrubs led guests from the street into a courtyard. There they waited behind another group where a tall male escorted a shriveled female. Her eyes narrowed at Parthon and she slapped the tall male’s large hand. His pasty face turned mechanically.

"Marso of Luugrat is displeased with your vicinity. Please back away."

Parthon glared. "I am General Parthon. Retired. And I will stand where I see fit. The snit will have to put up with us."

The lobby doors opened and the group entered a large spacious room with lights that bounced off dark glass walls. Males and females occupied every corner, wearing black and white uniforms.

The place smelled clean, sweet and savory and somehow the smell of food made Optimus feel less disoriented.

Plucky stepped away then returned with small metal tags in hand. He gave one to each of them and again Optimus followed his companions through a forest of alien creatures. They passed a fancy bar offering drinks with plants and other materials inside the glasses.

The group ascended a short staircase and entered a crowded ballroom. Ambient light kept patrons in a low-key mood while a spotlight directed attention to a musician and a lady singer.

A plump waitress approached and Parthon quietly spoke into her ear. With a polite gesture, she led them to a circular table roughly one-thirty of Optimus’ right. They each claimed a seat while Plucky ordered drinks and appetizers.

Once the entertainers took a break, Prime leaned toward Parthon. "What will we do once we find Ryumee?"

Parthon hesitated before answering. "Rusti and Galvatron. Hopefully we can find Magnus and Cloudstreaker and get off this dead world." He looked Prime in the eye. "I wish I could make guarantees, Optimus Prime. I really do."

It dawned on the Autobot leader that he may have to choose between finding Magnus and Cloudy or searching for Galvatron and Rusti. That did not sit well with him. Prime privately vowed not to leave Mechlatex until everyone was accounted for; even should the Infraction abandon them.

An anorexic waitress approached with a broad serving platter. She set a round of drinks per Plucky’s order then set three baskets of fried goodies. "Drinks, courtesy of the Chunyan Rift," she proclaimed. "And toppers as recommended by Dot Ten-Twelve."

The group collectively laid eyes on her. Dark hair piled atop her head. Her own solid black eyes gazed at each person in turn. "If you plan to leave early, I suggest waiting an hour and a half. Will you wait that long?"

"Naturally!" Plucky piped. "The entertainment is good and the personnel here are mechanical and precise. It’s a good place." She nodded once and departed. Optimus guessed the waitress was Ryumee.

Parthon scratched his neck. "Didn’t expect her to look that pretty."

Dot smirked and sipped her glass. "Were you expecting a zumuthian dwark?"

"No," the captain returned. "It’s just that...Pissant. I was expecting something less pleasant."

Prime smiled but suppressed laughter. "I have to agree," he said. That old sinking feeling tugged at the Autobot leader. Optimus’ intuition directed his gaze to the entrance. He stared until a figure appeared wearing an exosuit. Prime recognized Fracas, Scourge’s Targetmaster interface. Like a knee-jerk reaction, the Autobot jumped to his feet.

Startled by his sudden movement, Dot flinched. "What’s wrong?"

Her voice brought him back to the moment and reminded Prime of his humanoid status. He plopped back down. "Nothing," he swiftly lied. "I... I need to find a restroom." Plucky pointed in the general direction and Optimus wove his way through and around the bustling crowd of well-dressed people. He found the men’s room although he did not need to use it. He paused to wash his hands. The cold water gave him a moment to school his emotions from trepidation to calm and alert.

Then Fracas and two other Targetmasters stepped in. All three picked a urinal and spent time to undo latches and plates.

Prime kept his head down, removed his visor and splashed cold water on his face.

"You smell something?" Fracas said to Nightstick.

"You," Nightstick sneered. "Keep telling you to stop drinking gorvo."

"No, stupid. It smells like..." Fracas sniffed the air as he finished his business. "Smells like Autobot." All three Targetmasters twisted round while Optimus pretended not to notice. He replaced the visor and calmly headed out the door.

Hairsplitter smacked the back of Nightstick’s head. "Well, N, seems you have the opportunity to show us how stuff’s done."

"N’k all on you, Hairs. Get off my back!"

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Fracas punched Hairsplitter in the chest then burst out the room, a long line of curses followed him.

People made way for Fracas, who stomped the floor as if leaving his footprints in the carpet. They glared at the other two Targetmasters who shoved, snarled and groped their way outside.

Hairsplitter exited before Nighstick and spun about, preventing his peer from crossing the threshold. "What did I say, N? I said time to show us what a good Decepticon you are!"

"I’LL DO IT BY RIPPING OFF YOUR HEAD!" Nightstick stumbled backward when Fracas punched him.

"Quit screwing around, Nightstick! You’re already under suspicion. Get back in there and bring that flesh creature here!"

Nightstick hissed and swore behind his metal mask. He complied and withdrew.

Optimus rushed through the crowd and reached Parthon as another musical duet took the stage. "You have to leave. NOW."

Parthon regarded him calmly. "What’s wrong?"

Prime pocketed a table knife. "Decepticon Targetmasters. Three of them."

Plucky partly raised his hand. "What’s a Targetmaster?"

Optimus heard Nighstick’s metal boots tap the flooring at the threshold. He pointed at the humanoid-size Decepticon. "THAT."

Nightstick and Prime caught one another’s line of sight. Optimus squeezed Parthon’s shoulder and fled. Nightstick leapt into the air, paused at the table and tipped it over. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

A small silver object whacked the side of his helm and the Targetmaster scanned the room. The second he saw Optimus, he abandoned the Infraction’s crew mates and shoved the next table aside.

People ducked and screamed when Nightstick transformed and blasted the doorway where Optimus stood. Dust, smoke, debris and flames flew in all directions. Nightstick returned to robotic mode and jumped from table to table. He chased a vanishing shadow into an empty ballroom. The Decepticon Targetmaster sneered at the unlit room and activated a flashlight. At this point returning empty-handed promised more social abuse. He had to prove himself. Except, where was the Autobot-smelling flesh-head?

Optimus’ voice fell from the ceiling. "My-y-y-y goodness," the Autobot jeered. "They let you outside to do your business and now you can’t find your way back. Do you have ID tags? Are you up to date on your rabies shots?"

"You stink like an Autobot! Who are you?!"

"An Autobot. Come now, are you really that stupid?"

"You’re LYING... or you’re deranged. Either way, you stink." Nightstick transformed and shot upward. He did not expect the fleshling to move so fast. But any good hunt allots for a few misses.

And he meant to miss, anyway.

Concrete, dust and pieces of metal rained upon the carpet and tables. With a quiet growl, Nightstick dropped to his feet.

"You missed," Optimus taunted. "Bad doggie."

"Don’t be so cocky, dumbass. You’re only giving away your location."

"Is that so?"

PLINK.

A long screw tapped against the Targetmaster’s metal head. He turned left. He turned to the other left and came face to face with his prey. Optimus struck him with a metal table leg.

Prime knew exactly where to hit him. Nightstick held his head as if his brains would spill. He growled and dropped to his knees.

"Mm." Prime grunted. "Puppy isn’t playful. Let’s go outside." Locking an arm under Nightstick’s shoulder, Optimus dragged the Targetmaster to the side exit. In two tries, he broke open the double doors and flung his baggage out.

Five feet down.

Into the restaurant patio.

Which was down for repairs.

Nightstick jumped as if he awoke from unconsciousness. "What the-" He checked his body. "How the Pitt-"

PLINK

A screw bounced off Nightstick’s right shoulder. "Who’s doing that?!" Another metal screw struck his left eye. "Gaaagh!! STOP IT!"

Prime’s voice came from nowhere. "Answer a couple of questions and I will."

"Smelt you!"

"Very well."

Nightstick stumbled around and ran into a support beam. He rubbed his left eye and made several attempts to get it to work right.

Optimus crouched on a catwalk above the disoriented Targetmaster. "How many Decepticons are stationed here?"

"Not telling, fleshhead."

"Is Skorponok here?"

"Not telling, Fleshhead."

"Are you really this stupid?"

"Not tell-"

PLINK. A large screw bounced off his helm.

TINK. TINK. TINK. TINK. TINK. TINK. One nail after another hit his helm and shoulders. Another round assaulted his exostructure and his nerves until Nightstick roared. He turned right. A nail bounced off his chest. The Targetmaster transformed and blew a hole through the support structure.

PLINK!

Nightstick panned left and fired.

TINK!

He fired straight overhead.

PLINK!

The humanoid Decepticon returned to robot mode and howled in frustration. He abandoned the spot and ran toward the patio exit.

PLINK! PLINK! PLINK! PLINK! PLINK!

Behind his head several screws ricocheted from him to the floor. Nightstick spun about. "STOP-"

CRACK!

With a muffled cry, the Targetmaster dropped on his caboose. A sledgehammer dented his helm and dropped beside his left.

A set of sturdy footfalls crunched on debris, dirt and metal shavings. Nightstick lifted his eyes and climbed Optimus’ height. "What the PITT?"

Prime removed his visor and stared the Targetmaster down. "I’d apologize for your confusion had I not found it so amusing." The Autobot leader crouched before the humiliated Targetmaster. "Let’s start over. How many Decepticons are stationed here?"

Nightstick scoffed and spit a gob of nastiness, missing Optimus by nacto-meters. "Not vibing on that frequency."

Optimus laughed.

Fracas lost his patience forty-five minutes after Nightstick returned inside. The two remaining Targetmasters ventured within. Their heavy strides alerted the crowd to give them a wide path. Their actions attracted a security alert and a bouncer in a dark suit approached them.

"I have to ask you to leave. Now."

Fracas stared before removing his helmet. He thumbed the Decepticon emblem on his chest. "See this? It says I can do anything I want. So move aside or get fried."

The bouncer folded his huge arms and set his face. He did not see Optimus approach his four-o’clock.

The humanoid Autobot leader ping-ponged his gaze between the two Targetmasters. "Weren’t there three of you?" he asked innocently.

Neither deceived nor amused, Fracas pointed. "WHO ARE YOU?" He flinched and hopped back when Optimus tossed two flat objects at him. They fell at Fracas’ feet and splattered the floor with black-green goo. Hairsplitter yelped.

Fracas leaned slightly forward. "That’s disgusting! What did you do to Nightstick?"

Back in his humanoid form, the Autobot leader checked his hands and patted his clothing. He sat slumped against a building wall with the lady waitress lying beside him.

"How did..." Prime laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hello? Are you all right?"

She whimpered and sat up one movement at a time. The waitress moved hair from her eyes. Her face, scratched, dirty and bruised, reflected recent trauma. Her lips trembled. "I’m, I’ll be okay," she whispered. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"I, I rescued you?"

She nodded. "From the Targetmasters. They were going to take me to the palace. But you stopped them."

"I see. Where are we?"

"It was dark. I don’t know."

"What happened to the restaurant?" Prime stood and helped the lady to her feet. "Are you Ryumee?"

"Um," her expression, nonplused, she stammered. "What-what restaurant? And how did you know my name?"

Optimus scratched the back of his head and looked sheepish.

The distortion wave flooded over Laktromycix’s wall and radiated across the filthy, dead land.

Rusti took a blow; thousands of pinpricks cut her face before they penetrated her clothing. The Sweep roared and dropped her. His form disintegrated into a billion colorful atoms. The burnt soil flashed to life; a carpet of blue coiled leaves sprang into existence and birthed tiny white flowers.

At the northern horizon, Laktromycix lost her walls, the parapet, the check point and weapons peeking out the gunslits.

The distortion wave passed and Rusti, who floated five feet in the air, landed hard on her midriff. She lost wind and lay still, stunned.

"Rusti?" It could have been Optimus for the whisper coasted along the wind. A large warm hand covered her right shoulder blade.

"Rusti? Rusti?" Galvatron’s voice strengthened without a hint of panic. His touch prompted her body to draw breath. She coughed and rolled over, wincing. Rusti did not see the relief and amusement beam from her companion’s features. "That was a bad fall," he said. She groaned. He added a smirk. You have no sense of grace whatsoever. You should never belly flop."

The whole front side of her body hurt. "I think I’m going to throw up."

"Can you walk?"

"Ohmigod, Galvatron. I haven’t even stood up yet!" She lapped an arm over her face."

"Right," he replied. "Let’s get you up. Anything broken?"

"Is there blood on my face?"

"No. Doesn’t mean you don’t have a brain lesion."

"Not funny," she mumbled.

"Well, I’m trying to determine how your red curls came back."

"What?" Rusti propped herself on elbows and twisted her face. "What did you say?"

"Red and curly." He grinned as she grabbed her locks.

"Ohmigod," she moaned. "Ohmigod," she repeated, "We can’t go into the city with me looking like this!"

"Of course we can. We’ll just say it’s a wig that you glued on and cannot take off."

Rusti scowled but could not argue the logic.

In spite of her unsteady gait, they continued toward the city. Their senses distracted them a time then two when a tall, new plant shot up from the ground without warning. Galvatron stretched to touch a freshly-bloomed crystal flower.

Rusti dragged him back to the road. "Remember what Parthon said? Everything’s in flux. Your molecules might intermingle and I’ll have to explain why you have leaves growing out your ears."

Galvatron considered her warning then raised his brows. "Better leaves than tentacles."

"You scare me, Galvatron."

To her amazement, Rusti and Galvatron entered the city unhindered. She was not ignorant that every light post and rooftop sported a camera.

Up and down sidewalks and streets zipped little robots. They paused to gaze at people as citizens went about their daily business. People moved on as if the little bots did not exist.

Rusti startled when a miniature helicopter appeared from nowhere and floated in front of them.

"What would you say, Mizz Rusti?" Galvatron asked calmly. "Right side?" he twisted so the ‘copter had better view of his right biceps. "Or left? I think my left is the better looking."

Rusti stared at the device. "Go away," she said to it. "And don’t remember anything."

It flew off and Galvatron stared after it. "I appreciate your protection, Rusti. But I think it’s an exercise in futility. You cannot tell all of them to forget us."

She raised her eyes in consideration. "No," she answered. "But then, I’ve never tried."

Galvatron lightly smiled and pointed left. "That way. We need to go that way."

They crossed the street into a courtyard. Four trees with dark trunks and deep red leaves swayed slowly in the breeze. Rusti touched one to be sure it was real. Galvatron ascended a flight of stairs nestled amid green shrubs and slender young trees.

Rusti reluctantly followed but kept her pace slow while her senses enjoyed the only green she had seen in weeks. Memories of Optimus’ private rooftop garden roused homesickness. She quickened her pace to distract the ache in her heart.

The stair wound up and up again until she and Galvatron surfaced onto a fresh clean second level of the city. More trees graced the walkways. Grand courtyards with open patios waited for visitors. The citizens dressed well and delighted themselves with one leisure moment after another. Cars came and passed, hovering eight to ten inches above the plated roads. Personal antigrav transports carried business people down walkways and across the streets.

Fewer drones harassed the populace. Rusti noticed more couples populated the city’s upper level. She wondered if they knew anything abut the world below their feet or south of the city borders.

She and Galvatron encountered a high-class clothing store. Large windows attracted attention to faceless plastic models. The clothing draped over them in shadowy, clouded colors. Rusti liked the silky, hand-knit shawls and undershirts.

Galvatron stopped dead in his tracks and spun about. He pointed seven-thirty of their position. "That way," he declared. "We need to go there."

Rusti set her eyes upon a tall, temple-like building. A wrap-around terrace overlooked the city from the third floor. Rusti narrowed her eyes. The temple walls resembled Transformer-size dimensions. "What is that?" she asked.

"Our destination," her Decepticon companion answered. He took two steps past her when a strangely quiet boom thundered several streets away. In seconds all drone units swarmed in the general direction.

Rusti blinked from the scene of the explosion to Galvatron. "What are the chances that Optimus is in that direction"

Galvatron did not need a translation. Albeit reluctant, he led Rusti on a swift pace through growing traffic.

Ten blocks down, the authorities set up a barrier complete with drones and part English bulldog-part frog mechanical beasts.

A squad of military police escorted an army of emergency vehicles and coordinated disaster control teams. Firemen, demolition control personnel, medical professionals and all their staff set up tents and equipment while police cleared the streets of onlookers.

Several floors of the hospital dissolved under a specialized neutron weapon Rusti never witnessed before. Patients and medical workers evacuated out the front calmly and orderly.

Galvatron dropped a hand on Rusti’s shoulder and leaned toward her. "I think I just spotted Dot."

"Dot?"

Galvatron searched for holes and paths through and around the throng. But, naturally, the MP’s were trained experts in crowd control. No mater, the Decepticon himself knew this game. Or so he believed until Rusti gasped and choked on air. "What?" He asked.

She pointed eleven o’clock and Galvatron’s eyes went wide. Two Sweeps and three Targetmasters landed near the MP control center. "They don’t know who or what we are, Rusti. We’ll be fine."

She nailed him with worried eyes. "Don’t be so sure, Galvatron. You might look human, but you still vibrate with Decepticon life force frequencies.

He smiled, pleased. "Do I, now? Come, let’s go find your Better Half."

Neither Galvatron nor Rusti noticed two Headmaster Nebulon agents landed and pointed Rusti out to their peers. One Sweep silently ordered an arrest and one Headmaster wove through the crowd. His prey might have escaped but red hair was not difficult to trace.

Galvatron headed for the shadowy places and he and Rusti moved only when he considered it relatively safe.

They found themselves in a box neighborhood surrounded by rock-and-cement homes. A metal sign stood guard, prohibiting pets. One way in, one way out. Rusti turned about face to retreat when a robotic figure clapped the ground with metal feet.

"Red curly hair. What a novelty! And you look as sweet as they come."

From the dark corridor the robot emerged with the nastiest smile Rusti saw only from her father. She stepped back and kept her eyes on the Transformer so as not to betray Galvatron’s position. "That’s far enough," she warned.

"Not for me."

Rusti smiled as Galvatron slammed the metal sign post into the robot’s temple. Their tracker hit the ground with a bang. Galvatron shouldered his bent weapon and smiled at the captive.

"Well," the Decepticon boomed. "I see Skorponok still sends out the little dogs before unleashing the big ones. But you, Brisko? For real, now? It’s a weak joke.

Brisko paddled his gaze from Galvatron to Rusti and back. He scooted back and removed his helmet. "What the condemnation are you"

"What are you?" Rusti asked in turn.

"A Headmaster," Galvatron answered. "But he’s an animal headmaster. Fangry’s nasty slag baby."

"Don’t call me that!" Brisko hissed. "That was BLOT’S name!"

"Blot is dead," Galvatron grunted in turn. "So now you get to inherit it."

"Who are you?!"

Galvatron grinned as Rusti laughed softly. The former Decepticon leader crouched beside her, his arms lapped over his knees. "Your real leader, Brisko. And what shall we do with you?"

Rusti folded her arms. "He’d make a funny colored TV set." She stared at the Headmaster and remembered how she controlled Witwicky’s suit. "Stand up," she ordered the mech.

Brisko scoffed but his body obeyed her. He shouted, surprised. "What is this?"

"Telemechanics," Rusti replied.

"Hmm," Galvatron said out loud. "Can you transform him?"

Rusti glowered at Galvatron as if he spoke gibberish. "That would be mean."

She did not see him smile. "It would be fitting for someone like Brisko. Why don’t you tell Mizz Rusti how you once murdered six Nebulon girls and papered your quarter’s walls with their skins? Did Skorponok and Fangry let you keep your disgusting trophies?" He stood straight and folded his arms. "Believe me, my dear, he’d do the same to you. Ergo, to keep him from blabbing, we either kill him or disable his internal communicator and lock him up. Since we have no place to put him, I suggest transformation lock down."

Rusti did not feel comfortable invading anyone’s space, but she understood Galvatron’s point and concentrated. She mentally pierced Bristo’s armored shell and traced infrastructure down to cords and reflex coils. She found his internal comlink.

Bristo yelped when it shorted.

Rusti explored the inner workings, connectors, refitters, subspace modulators, armitoid, retraction instuds, all things that made a Nebulon binary Headmaster. Withdrawing from the physiology crash course, Rusti drew a deep breath.

Bristo screamed. He wiggled like a worm until the armor on his legs opened and folded. His whole frame bent backward while his helmet reattached and locked his head into his chest. Bristo’s shoulders lifted up, his arms opened like a set of boxes and locked together. Without his Transformer home, Bristo’s reconfigured form dropped hard, facing north.

Rusti and Galvatron stared at the cube of a head. They examined her work; Galvatron for amusement, Rusti to affirm her new skill. The head stood as high as Rusti’s shoulders. Red optics flared before Bristo spoke.

"You’ll suffer for this! I will eat you, fleshling maggot! How dare you humiliate me!"

"Shut up," Rusti snapped.

Galvatron sighed. "Oh, but to have a pen on hand. ‘Galvatron was here’ would be amusing to write. Wouldn’t yo-" he stopped mid-sentence when Rusti pulled a pen from her bag. The former Decepticon leader laughed.

Ten minutes later Brisko had a new complaint. Galvatron’s name covered every area of the Headmaster’s exostructure.

"All done!" Galvatron sang. "Come, Mizz Rusti. Your beloved awaits!’

Sunset doused the city with ethereal light as the day slowly neared its end. Rusti’s stomach complained but she said nothing to Galvatron. They entered another, prettier part of the city. Restaurants baited them with the savory smells of home cooking and expensive menus.

"Galvatron," she said as they passed a small food stand.

"I know," he answered automatically. "I am hungry, too."

"Well, yeah," she agreed. "But I want to thank you for helping me find Optimus first."

Galvatron smiled kindly. "Never go into battle without solid back up."

"We’re not going to battle, Galvatron."

"I am the back up, Mizz Rusti-oh, isn’t that Plucky?"

"Where?!"

Galvatron pointed and Rusti spotted Dot. "DOT!" She cried and waved her arms.

Both parties wove between other people and objects until Rusti excitedly hugged the old lady. "I’m so glad to see you!" Rusti rejoiced.

Galvatron spoiled the moment: "Where is Optimus Prime?"

Parthon spoke for the group: "We were looking for him. You found us first."

Rusti drew breath to speak when the thunderous sound of engines roared above the rooftops. Sweeps climbed the sky. They split into diamond formation and fired upon a descending black object.

"Ohmigod," Rusti whispered.

"Crap," Galvatron growled.

The four Sweeps ascended, the Inoux sailed past them and aimed for the city. The Decepticons maneuvered to engaged. Two opened fire and the other two broke formation. The alien made an amazing loop-de-loop and shot one Sweep. That Sweep crashed. The other Sweep: not so lucky. People gasped and flinched when the Decepticon exploded and vaporized. The remaining two Sweeps engaged in battle joined by three more Decepticons.

Galvatron grunted when he recognized Mindwipe and Misfire. "We should not be out here," he cautioned.

As if someone killed the city, building and street plunged into darkness. To Rusti’s surprise, the natives did not panic. Pedestrians and traffic merely stopped moving. Seconds later, building after building lit from their corners. Nothing illuminated from inside but rooftops and edges radiated with emergency power. Sidewalk edges, street signs and directional patterns also glowed, directing traffic and citizens to return home. The city moved again under stable but subdued power.

BOOM!

A car flattened under the weight of a giant fallen object. Galvatron instinctively pressed Rusti against the nearest wall and stood in front of her. Parthon and his team also slammed their backs to the wall. Amid the weak lighting, Rusti watched the fallen object move. It rolled over and stood.

She did not recognized Misfire, even as he stumbled about, holding a broken arm. His red optics flickered until the left optic expired.

TH-TH-TH-THWUMP.

Galvatron swore again when an Inoux Assassin Class landed hard on the street. Its stature reached three stories. Its tapered fingers clicked with anticipation. Misfire drew his binary weapon and hit the Inoux point on the chest. The resulting light show cast harsh brief shadows amid the buildings and vehicles. But the Assassin did not so much as flinch. Its horned head tilted; comical but creepy.

Misfire shot again and again with the same results. His Nebulon partner, Aimless pried himself from the Decepticon. "What the fracking hills of Pekos are you DOING?! You can’t KILL IT!!"

"Shut up! I’m in charge, here!"

Using his lip components rather than his head, Misfire failed to see the Assassin leap backward into the air. The Inoux’s legs shattered the Targetmaster’s boiler plate and sent him flat on his back. The Assassin abandoned Misfire and Aimless when Mindwipe landed half a mile down the street.

Galvatron waited until Mindwipe and the Inoux were fully engaged before taking a moment to breathe. He twisted to the right to ask Rusti if she was okay. But she slipped round his left with a cry of delight.

"Optimus!" She rushed from the building wall, crossed the street and leapt into his arms. She embraced him with arms and legs and pecked his lips three times before setting into an impassioned kiss.

The Autobot leader entwined his fingers into her hair before realizing her curls returned. He broke the kiss. "Rusti, your hair. What happened?"

"Time disruption wave," she answered simply. "Didn’t you see it? Didn’t it affect you?"

Prime smirked with a sheepish smile. "I’ll tell you about it later." He gripped her all the closer.

Galvatron hailed them from the sidewalk. "We cannot stay in the streets like this."

Reluctant to leave the moment, Optimus broke the embrace and nodded.

A forceful hot wind billowed down the street from where the two giants fought. Fire blazed from a large building. Optimus and Galvatron recognized the blurring effects of a gas plume. They ordered everyone to hide in the closest alley.

The resulting explosion shook the ground and its thunderous clamor rolled across the city while fumes and fire sucked out the oxygen.

Rusti covered her nose and mouth with her blouse and closed her eyes to the toxic fallout. Even through the fabric she smelled and tasted putrid plastic

Parthon crouched to her right and Plucky beside him. Plucky gagged, coughed then vomited. Parthon moved, though Rusti could not tell what he was doing. "Dot!" he choked, "Get us out of here!"

"I’m warning you, Parthon," the old lady replied, "I’m getting too old for this kind of excitement-"

"Wait!" Optimus cut in. He paused when another explosion rattled the city. Reflexively, the Autobot leader protected Rusti with his body. "Dot," he called over the noise, "Ryumee is a cross the street! I need to get her."

"Don’t worry, Optimus," she answered. "I’ll handle it."

For Rusti the world muted into a quiet grey. The toxic air reduced to breathable levels and the temperature cooled. The next minute the group huddled in a different alley. The city’s emergency light still dispelled complete dark but the air was cleaner and the noise became a distant drum.

Across the dirty alley, Dot slumped, exhausted. Parthon crawled to her. "Dot, Dot," he rasped.

She slapped his hand. "Watch what you’re touching there, Young Man. I’m just fine."

"I swear I will never ask you to do that again."

"Oh please," the old lady cackled, "I’m old, not sleeping in a coffin. How’s Plucky?"

Parthon checked on Plucky while Optimus stood and examined their new surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked "How did we get here?"

Dot forced herself up and patted Galvatron’s arm when he came to her aid. "The safehouse is at the end of the alley there. Hi, Handsome."

Rusti double-checked the street and smiled at the waitress. "You must be Ryumee."

The humanoid Automatron nodded, clearly nervous

Optimus waited for everyone else to move forward so that he covered their backs.

Plucky and Parthon pushed against an ancient brick wall. When their combined strength failed, Galvatron replaced Plucky. Decepticon and captain moved the wall. A partition rolled away, revealing dark emptiness.

Galvatron held the door as Parthon walked ahead. "Mind the smell," he warned. "Mummy spiders might be everywhere."

Daylight appeared through a door at the other end of the expanse. Dot and Plucky walked ahead while Galvatron closed the brick door behind them.

Plucky unlocked a thin door. Dust kicked up the moment the group entered a two-bedroom empty home. The carpet smelled old and stale. The yellowed walls bespoke of age and neglect.

Plucky tucked the key into his jacket. "Well, it’s not the Shamboo Inn but it’s got a roof and walls."

Dot peeked into the bathroom. "You still got my radio equipment here, Plucky?"

"Didn’t change a thing." the Infraction’s second-in-command announced.

Parthon offered his hand to Ryumee. "Miss Ryumee, he said, "It’s a pleasure to meet you officially. I’m Captain Parthon. The little guy there is Plucky, my second-in-command. And there’s Dot, our communications and contacts officer. And these are our hitchhikers, the Autobots. This is Optimus Prime, their leader." Parthon nodded for Prime to introduce his own people.

Optimus proffered a hand toward his friend. "This is Galvatron. Galvatron, Ryumee. And this beautiful creature is my wife, Rusti.

"Hi," Rusti greeted again. Ryumee answered in kind. "I’m sorry if we found you later than Captain Parthon hoped."

Ryumee closed her back eyes. "I’m just glad to get off this planet."

Plucky frowned. "Sadly enough, the city is in lock down, thanks to the fighting. We gotta lay low."

"Alright," Parthon announced "Sleeping arrangements: Ryumee, you and Dot take one room. Optimus, you and the Misses take the other."

"Thank you, Captain," Optimus returned.

Plucky rested half an hour before leaving to scavenge for food. Dot hauled a small radio set from the ceiling in the kitchen. She pieced it together while Ryumee and Rusti ventured through the small house, discovering hidden beds in the walls, chairs stashed under the floor and water under kitchen cabinets.

Rusti found a small stash of dishes. She poured water into cups and warned someone would have to share since there were only four. She shared her bottle with Optimus who sat on the dusty floor beside Galvatron in the livingroom. Dot used one chair in the bedroom while Parthon and Ryumee occupied the other two.

Prime took a second sip of water. He eyed Galvatron as if measuring the Decepticon’s mood. "I am glad that you and Rusti left us a note. But you still left me greatly concerned, Galvatron."

"I’m sorry, Optimus," he returned sincerely.

"I don’t think he could help it," Optimus, Rusti said. "He was lured here. And I could not let him go alone."

"Lured?" Prime repeated. "How?"

Rusti thought about answering. But it was Galvatron’s story to tell. She rested eyes on him and clasped Prime’s hand.

"Uhh..." Galvatron scratched the back of his neck and winced. "It’s like music. I hear music. The same tune over and over. I love to listen to it-"

"How long has this been going on?"

Galvatron smoothed his bare scalp. "Since I came back."

"Came back?"

"Well," Galvatron grinned. "I was dead. Er, that was before I became a speck of dust."

All eyes glued onto Galvatron. Even Dot peered round the corner, her face the very complex of bewilderment.

Ryumee squirmed in her uncomfortable chair. "Were you reincarnated?"

Galvatron hesitated because the ideology was foreign. "I don’t think so. I just was. And then I woke up on another planet. It was the Music that woke me."

Dot’s old voice spoke for them: "What do you think it is?"

"I don’t know."

Rusti’s suspicion yearned to speak. She suppressed those voices; Galvatron was entitled to his privacy.

Plucky returned an hour later. He carried three canvass bags filled with food. The group ate, discussed an escape strategy then gave up for the night.

Rusti undressed and plunged into Optimus’ arms. Touching him with her whole body gave her the greatest sense of home. They said nothing while she lay upon his well-defined chest and listened to his heart. He stroked and scrunched her hair.

"What can I do," she asked, "To keep you like this?"

"Take a photograph?"

His voice vibrated into her bones and she leisurely kissed his collar bone.

"Why am I so sad?" she asked.

"Because you have not had a shower in a few days? That always seems to cheer you up."

Rusti sat up on her elbows and grinned. "Will you wait here for me?"

He returned the smile. "Naturally."

The shower hissed from the bathroom. Rusti gleefully sang the praises of hot water. With a smile, Optimus opened the door.

"Pardon me, Ma’am," he said smoothly. "I’m looking for someone, eh, pale skin, beautiful smile, bright eyes."

"Missing persons?" Rusti said behind a flimsy curtain. "I will be happy to help out, Sir! We’ll file an APB. Why don’t you step into my office and I’ll help you with the paper work." Her hand slipped round corner, her finger invited him in.

The deafening cacophony of bombs woke Rusti from deep sleep. Before she said anything, Prime jumped out the bed, grabbed his pants and threw her clothes.

"Hurry."

Rusti did the same as he: pants first. She fit into her boots and tugged her shirt on simultaneously. Parthon in the living room shouted at Dot and Plucky. Rusti joined the group as Dot destroyed her radio equipment.

"It wasn’t me," the old lady declared.

"No," Parthon agreed. "I know. Plucky, take Dot and Ryumee straight to the ship."

The front wall cracked and blew outward. Two Sweeps crunched the rubble underfoot. One pointed his weapon down, squarely at Optimus.

"HA!" Nightstick and Fracas swore by the dirt on their feet they saw an Earthling-Autobot mix!"

"Hey!" someone behind the giants shouted. "Move aside, you thugs! You’ll squish the illegals before Psykee gets to interrogate them." Aimless squeezed between the Sweep’s boots, carrying a pistol. "Surrender quietly an’ I’ll not drop you where you stand!"

A quiet cackled followed Aimless’ monologue but he wasn’t laughing. A shadow faded onto the Targetmaster’s shoulder and Pissant emerged from the dark. Aimless and the two sweeps froze at the snap of the Snail’s fingers. "I’d consider this a good entrance, if I were directing a movie," he boasted.

"Well," Galvatron growled, "you’re the only one who finds it amusing."

Pissant peered round Aimless’ thick head. He set eyes on Galvatron then panned to the Automatron. "Ryumee! How are you, Dear? I’m delighted we found you safe and in one piece. As for you, Captain, fellow shipmates, this is where we part ways." Ryumee, Parthon, Dot and Plucky vanished.

Rusti scoffed. "Pissant!"

"What? I sent them back to the Infraction. They were actually nice people and deserved my gratitude. However, I owe you nothing. Galvatron, you’ll be coming with me. The Autobot will go to Skorponok-or Psyklenox, whoever. And you, Rust-er-Mechlatex or Pyrzhak That Chamronsyn whichever you are at the moment-what’s the matter, Prime? Confused? Puzzled? Think I’m lying? And Galvatron, no snarky remarks? Not so much as an objection?"

Rusti looked cross. "If you’d shut up long enough, he would."

Pissant smacked Aimless’ helm. "Forward, you savage!" The snail steered his bearer close enough to stare into Rusti’s face. "I will enjoy watching you die. I tried to talk Rodimus into offing himself but I respect Rain more than I should." Pissant directed Aimless to step back. "It doesn’t matter. All I need to do is kill one of the three of you. Indirectly, of course. I’d rather not get into trouble again."

Rusti gave Pissant a dirty look before Optimus found his voice. "What do you want with us, Pissant? Why wait until now, here in Lactromycix?"

The snail clapped his hands together. "I’m glad you asked, Optimus! Since I am under observation, I used a back-road means of operation. Had to keep it smooth and good looking. I mean, yes, I really do care about the Automatrons. But I don’t care about you. It’s because of that damned Dinobot that I’m in this predicament. My controls weren’t broken. I was merely panicked."

Glavatron lost his patience. "What are you talking about?!"

"Hey! I’m the only one with a reason to be angry here, Baldy! If the stupid balloon-headed Quintessons hadn’t revived Optimus Prime and shattered his soul, none of us would have been here! But hey, God has the most unique sense of humor. He gave Optimus Prime’s life back to throw them completely off track. And then He gave Mechlatex permission to hide Prime’s soul from the Quintessons. And then he gave her permission to adopt the Cybertronians. So now she’s reformed this planet. The beautiful thing is that part of her and part of Prime reside in you." He pointed at Rusti. Then he pointed at Galvatron, "and she hid part of Prime’s soul in you. And I’m sure you can fill in the blanks with Rodimus."

Pissant rubbed his hands together. "So! I kill the girl, I’ll have a good day."

Galvatron softly laughed.

Pissant shot his eyes at the Decepticon. "What so funny?"

"For some reason, I thought all this was about me. But it’s just some criminal who’s on parole, looking for revenge. And since you can’t kill the judge, you go after one of her family members."

The snail smiled slowly. "How do you know it’s not about you?" he snapped his fingers and the Sweeps moved again. "Lidar, kill the girl."

"MISS LADY? MISS LADY, AWAKEN! I FOUND YOU! MISS LADY?"

Rusti stirred with a soft groan. Her body ached ears to toes, face to hands. She winced and opened her eyes.

"MISS LADY?"

Soft yellow light illuminated the area. A constant hum hiccuped once. When she sat up, Rusti found herself in a small cell capped with energy bars. Her head pounded. "What?" she slurred.

"THE TECHNICIAN RELEASED ME FROM THE INVISIBLE CLAMPS AND I CAME HERE. YOU AND ULTRA MAGNUS HAVE NOT CONTACTED ME."

It took her some seconds before Rusti realized the Sagittarian Mozart stood at the other side of the bars in his centaur form. She pushed up and staggered to the front of her tiny jail cell. "Mozart?" she squeaked. "How’d you find us? Wait, is it just you or are all of you?"

"MY ENTIRE SELF, LADY." the motif replied with a bow. "THE INFRACTION TOLD ME EVERYTHING."

She blushed. "I hope not." Rusti muttered. "Are you planet-side?"

"JUST NOW ENTERING THE SYSTEM."

Her eyes went wide and Rusti twisted around. "Optimus?" But he was not there. "Optimus?" she repeated. "Where-"

"HERE HE IS, MISS LADY," Mozart answered. "IN THE CELL BESIDE YOU."

"Is he okay? Optimus?" Rusti ran her hands along the metal wall, searching for an opening. "Mozart," she said, "Do you know how long I slept?"

"I CAN ONLY CALCULATE THE TIME FROM MY ARRIVAL, MISS."

"And that was a few minutes ago, wasn’t it?"

The centaur lifted his ghostly head and flicked his outlined tail. "I CALCULATE 29.14 EARTH MINUTES. BUT THAT’S NOT IN METAXAN TIME OR ROTATION."

"No, no," Rusti waved. "You did good." She paused two beats. "I don’t suppose you can get me out of here; undo the locks-"

"I CAN COMMUNICATE WITH YOU, MISS, BUT I HAVE NO POWER DUE TO DISTANCE."

Rusti frowned. "Of course. That would be too easy." Rusti examined her cell floor to ceiling, front to back. The lighting, or lack thereof, made it difficult to make out detail. But she spotted a hole in one corner that provided the only means of personal relief. A tiny sink protruded from the wall between she and Prime. Otherwise, the cell was asylum-certified.

Rusti checked her person for possible devices, weapons or useful objects. Not so much as a rubber band occupied her pockets. She stared at the bars with a deep frown. If only Cloudstreaker were with them.

"Galvatron," she said later. "Mozart, is Galvatron in another cell?

"NO, MISS."

"Optimus?" she called again.

"HE LIES UNRESPONSIVE, MISS LADY. I FEAR HE HAS SUFFERED DAMAGE."

Rusti hissed a foul word between her teeth. She laid hands on the wall between she and her love. Chilled metal told her the building itself watched them. "Open the cell," she ordered quietly. But the computerized structure ignored her. She was alien and had no clearance. "Shit," she repeated. "Optimus? Optimus?" Rusti banged her forehead against the wall and plowed her brains for ideas, any idea. She twisted round and sagged against the barrier, frustrated and concerned. Three deep breaths later she settled her gaze on the Mozart’s motif. "Mozart," she said, "ETA planet-fall?"

"FOUR EARTH HOURS, MISS LADY. THE TRAJECTORY WILL BE TRICKY."

"How so?"

"THE PLANET PRODUCES COMPLICATING ENERGY READINGS. SOME ARE ON LIGHT WAVE FREQUENCIES BUT MOST ARE AETHERIAL."

She had no idea what the Mozart meant and dared not ask. She did not need a science lesson at the moment. Rusti stared into space and drifted into silence. She slid to the dirty floor. Her shirt caught a rough spot and tore. Cussing again, she turned to the offending metal plate and found an upper right corner bent outward while its neighbor concaved from an old impact. Her curiosity turned to hope as she traced the edges along the damaged panel. Rusti tugged and tugged. She found faint light seeping from the other side. She rubbed her aching indented fingers. If only she had a crowbar! Another idea hit her. She dropped to the floor, unzipped her boots and used the sole to pry the panel back until it snapped off. The sudden give flattened her to the floor. Rusti eagerly scrambled back to the 9X6" hole and passed her hand through. She contacted Optimus’ left arm.

"Optimus?" her voice squeaked under the weary plea. "Optimus, it’s me. Optimus?" Rusti tugged at his sleeve. Seconds to minutes passed. The metal floor made her face and arms cold and Rusti wanted to retract her arm. But her heart refused to break contact, even though all she had was a touch. "Please wake up," she begged. "Please be okay." she stretched as far as her arm could go but failed to get closer. "Please wake up," she sadly repeated. Rusti stroked his arm until too tired, she rested with fingers outstretched toward him.

Movement brought Rusti back to the miserable world. Prime’s sad, quiet voice made her heart leap with joy. "Optimus? Optimus?"

Prime stirred, coughed and softly groaned. He moved languidly, arms forward, palms to the floor. Lack of strength forced him to remain face-down. He faced left.

Rusti withdrew her arm, pushed her body downward and peered through the hole. "Optimus?" She bit back tears when her eyes beheld the terrible cuts and bruises on his face. "Ohmigod. What did they do to you?"

He tried to smile. "Tied me to a railroad track. Train was pretty fast."

"That is not funny," she admonished. "And if I ever see that damn train, I’ll give it a piece of my mind."

"I have no doubt, Sweetheart."

"Who did this? How long ago?"

"I don’t know how long ago. Nightstick was jut returning the favor I did him."

Rusti narrowed her eyes. "Who’s Nightstick?"

"A punk Targetmaster who can’t tell the difference between his mouth and a garbage disposal."

"A Targetmaster," she scoffed. "How badly did he hurt you, Optimus?"

"Not permanently. I look worse than I feel."

"But he was a Targetmaster. I’m surprised he didn’t break any bones-"

Prime smirked. "I said he was a Targetmaster, Rusti. I did not say he was good at fighting."

Rusti tried not to laugh. "I know you’re trying to alleviate my concern, Optimus. It’s just not working very well right now." He responded with a soft noise and turned quiet. Silence made her uneasy and Rusti turned their conversation elsewhere. "Did I tell you I transformed a Headmaster?"

"Have you any idea what that sounds like?" Prime countered.

She laughed. Prime’s smile softened, his eyes glowed. "I love to hear you laugh, Little Bell. The universe could crumble to dust but as long as you’re with me, I can be happy."

She remembered him saying something like that once before. Or was it several times? Turning serious, Rusti drew a deep breath. "I have to get you out of here."

Prime hesitated. "I was going to make a damsel-in-distress joke. But that would be moot and over-used."

Taken back, Rusti tilted her head. "Eh?" She abandoned confusion and took his hand when he reached for her. "I’m so scared for you," she whispered. "I’m so...frustrated because I can’t do anything. The building’s system will not communicate with me because I’m an alien."

Optimus creased his brows. "Did you just call yourself an alien?"

"Optimus, this is serious," she gently scolded. "The Mozart has arrived and I need to guide him to our position."

Prime peered closer to the opening. "Wait. Did you just say the Sagittarian Mozart is nearby?"

"Yes. His motif is here right now."

"Then we must wait."

That was not going to work for her. "Optimus-"

"We’ll be okay, Rusti," he assured her. "But we must wait for the right moment."

"Okay," she replied with sarcasm. "what about Galvatron? He’s not here with us. I am not going to leave him with those bastards."

Galvatron is a big bot, Rusti. I assure you he can take care of himself."

"He can’t drive a car. He can’t fly and he can’t sing."

Optimus’ laughter bespoke of his weariness. "I know. I know he can’t sing."

Rusti let the moment go so he could rest. If only she could hold him again. If only she could kiss his wounds and bruises away. However, she digressed, their situation could be far, far worse. And like he said, something was bound to happen soon. Craning her neck back, Rusti checked to see if the Mozart’s personification remained with them.

The ghostly apparition yet stood guard, waiting.

"MISS LADY!"

She drew a deep breath and moaned when her whole body ached from lying on the cold mean floor. "What?"

The Mozart’s motif paced before the two cells, restless and excited. "ORBITAL ENTRY AT T-20 MINUTES."

"Twenty minutes?" she repeated. Releasing Prime’s hand, Rusti stood and stiffly approached the energy bars. "Are you coming in through the organic part of the planet?"

"STAND BY, MISS. I AM RECEIVING A SIGNAL FROM THE INFRACTION."

She faintly heard Prime call her name and Rusti returned to her spot by the hole. "Optimus the Mozart is about to reach-what do you call that? Atmospheric entry?"

"Rusti," Optimus said wearily, "Skorponok is here. If the Sagittarian Mozart approaches, he will be assaulted."

Rusti grimaced. "Well, how did the Infraction land here?" The Autobot leader could not answer. "Sssshit." she swore. "I don’t know anything about piloting a ship-let alone and Autobot space cruiser!" She stood, paced, paused, paced and looked at Mozart again. "Okay. Okay. Maybe I don’t need to panic just yet. Right?"

The power flickered. The lights blinked. The power went out and with it, the energy bars and the lights.

"Okay, now I can panic."

"MISS LADY," Mozart called.

"I’m okay."

"NO, MISS LADY, I JUST RECEIVED A SIGNAL FROM RODIMUS PRIME!"

"Know what? That’s a good thing! Mozart, follow Roddi’s signal." She heard Prime weakly call her again. Holding her breath for sheer joy, Rusti let the wall guide her into his cell. She crawled to him so as not to step or trip over him. She caught his hands and he, on his knees, drew her close.

Prime embraced her fiercely. "I need you to stand in the corridor-"

"What? No, I am not leaving you!"

"Rusti!" he said firmly. "You must stand in the corridor! NOW! Go!"

She released him, trembling with confusion, and obeyed. She heard him gasp, hold his breath and exhale once more. Metal screeched, cracked and snapped. The partition between their cells broke from the top and collapsed. In the dark she beheld the height of his optics, now in their natural form.

With mixed emotions she ran to him.

Galvatron and his involuntary guards emerged into a gigantic room. A shiny metal floor softly reflected long bars of light above. Shorter tubes of light protruded from the walls. Between each pair of lights hung the face or the skull of any type of species. What caught Galvatron’s eyes were the shrunken, trans-organic faces of more than one Quintesson. Under each face hung a plaque written in Metaxan.

"I see you admire Psyklenox’s gratuitous gallery."

Galvatron lifted his optics and met Zarak, Skorponok’s head component. "My, my," the former Decepticon leader sang, "Look at you, Zarak! Finally painted over the acid pink color, I see. Were you bullied out of that fashion?"

Zarak frowned. "You never were very funny, Galvatron," he rumbled.

"Magnus would agree. But enough of me. Let’s talk about you."

"Let us not." Zarak objected. "I want to know how you survived. How you return from the dregs and dross to tarnish the galaxy with your filthy presence?"

"Mm." Galvatron nodded. "Consider it a Prime-thing. But why be puzzled and concerned with my new-found, uh, humanity." He paused as a small group of people entered the large room. Many were military police. Two headmaster binaries followed. They glared at Galvatron, who grinned with mischief. "So!" he said loudly enough, "I’m under the assumption you did not bring me here to make me into a blot of paste. And knowing our-er-mutual animosity-you’re not doing this to be nice, either."

Zarak folded his arms and crossed one leg other the other. "You talk like an Autobot, Galvatron."

Galvatron smiled again. "And you sit like a panzi on the fry." He grinned even brighter when Zarak uncrossed his legs and sat taller.

"What initially brought you here, Galvatron?"

"Would you believe it’s the fault of a magic slug?" Galvatron’s smile faltered, uncertain how these great and mighty warriors might take the fantastic truth. Then Galvatron heard a squeaky voice that made him realize he was the joke.

"SNAIL!" Pissant screamed. "SNA-IL! What’s the matter with you? Hey, stupid, move forward!’

Nightstick stepped into the room through the side entrance. Pissant squelched and oozed all over the Nebulon’s hands. The Headmaster himself looked like he’d been peppered with BB’s.

Galvatron huffed, inclined to laugh. "What happened to you?" he asked Nightstick.

Pissant glanced from Galvatron to Nightstick and back. He grinned, displaying a creepy set of tiny teeth. "Optimus Prime," the mollusk answered in turn. "And a lovely job it is, too. Now, move forward, you apocalyptic REJECT!"

Galvatron fisted his hips. "What is this about? And why is that thing here?"

Pissant’s little voice squealed in frustration. He threw his right hand behind him and a nasty string of slime splattered Nightstick across the face.

Nightstick heaved but managed to control his stomach.

"How DARE you refer to me as anything less than a god, you sleezoid!"

Zarak laughed like a goat. "That’s right, Galvatron! Where are your manners and humble gratitude?"

Galvatron grinned but did not meet the Nebulon Headmaster’s optics. "Up yours, Zarak. What is this about?" No one answered. No one made a single noise until the main doors opened. Galvatron turned about and faced a creature that appeared more android than robot. His large chest wore gold. His arms appeared humanoid and his long legs, transparent at the thigh, were also wrapped with a golden plating. A robe wrapped about his shoulders and fell to mid-calf.

The android stood before Galvatron and stared down as one would an ant. "For death’s hell, Primacron," he boomed. "Return Galvatron to normal."

"But... he’s cute," the snail protested. "Who knew Galvatron would be hairless? Although, he is cheeky." Pause. "You’re right, now I consider it. He should walk among gods. Come, then, Galvatron return to the nature of your species."

With a lurch, the world shrank around the former Decepticon leader. Now he stood slightly shorter than the android. Then Galvatron realized who the android was and frowned. "Much better," he approved.

The android sneered. You are pitiful thing, Galvatron. I despise your weakness."

Galvatron lifted his chin as if to look down. "I’d give you a back-handed compliment, Psyklenox. But why waste words with you?"

The android’s optics flared orange. He rounded Galvatron and approached the throne. "Get out," he growled at Zarak.

Skorponok’s binary removed his tailpipe from the chair and stood at the right side. Psyklenox sat and his gaze rounded the room; a god-king now held court. "Welcome, Galvatron, to the Regime. Perhaps you’d care to tell me how you and your little band of upstarts slipped past planetary defenses."

"I sneezed," Galvatron joked. "I sneezed and sneezed and covered the whole ship in oozing nastiness and the coating-"

"Stop!" the ancient mechanism ordered "I did not order you to come here for entertainment."

"Oh?"

"I have, rather, a proposition for you, Galvatron."

"Is that so?" Galvatron scanned everyone he could without looking like he was reading their body language. Was this proposition a hoax? Was Tall, Too Ugly and Humanoid setting a trap? "I’m listening."

"Join us, Galvatron. I offer you a place at my right side. I will give you an army-ten armies. And as many worlds as you desire to conquer."

Galvatron stared, vastly uncertain. "Well," he declared, "as one cosmic jackass to another: why? What’s in it for you?"

Pissant answered instead: "Always to the point, Galvatron. You have a ...unique ability and we want to encourage the strength of your ability."

Galvatron laughed. "My ability? You, who are vastly older than I, desire my relatively juvenile abilities? You remind me of the vampire I encountered on the space station."

"Yes, Galvatron. You laugh because you do not understand. We brought you here to help you understand." The former Decepticon leader folded his arms and silently glowered.

Psyklenox stepped to the left. "Zarak, if you please."

The Head of Skorponok opened his chest compartment and brought forth the very thing that lured Galvatron into the city: an Eden Stone; the Decepticon Matrix of Power. No hesitation, no debate. Zarak descended the steps and handed it over. Now they watched as Galvatron stared motionless into the object’s mystical light. This was his destiny. Power and greatness all be damned. This was his destiny. The former Decepticon leader deliberately ignored Psyklenox’s oily smile.

"Give it a test, Galvatron." the android cooed. "I’m sure this is the very thing you’ve sought for millions of years. Ultimate divine power."

Galvatron turned somber. "Yes," he agreed quietly. "For you, I have no doubt it’s the power you crave. But why hand it to me? Why not use it yourselves?"

The fact that the room fell dead quiet told Galvatron he caught them off guard. They expected him to celebrate the moment by some despicable self-aggrandizing monologue. But Galvatron’s lust for power and war died a long time ago. The Matrix represented responsibility; the badge of true leadership. His lust morphed into respect.

"It rejected Skorponok," Psyklenox answered. "I cannot fully control it. I know the Matrix can do significantly more than teach me history lessons and activate artificial intelligence." the Regime supreme ruler smiled, pleased with Galvatron’s surprised expression. "Oh yes. It grants high-threshold artificial intelligence. It’s not the same as a living spark, I’ll grant. But who needs a spark to obey orders?"

Galvatron stared at the Quintesson’s First automaton before lowering optics upon the Matrix. He realized Psyklenox commanded a vast army. And with Skorponok and the Decepticons on the team, Psyk could conquer anything. Anything. "And," Galvatron said, "what is my role in your schemes of might, power and control?"

"Troop movement. Simple. Easily done."

Pissant sniggered, catching Galvatron’s attention. "I’m sure you have no idea what he’s saying. Allow me to translate-"

"Don’t insult me, Werm," Galvatron growled. He looked back at Psyklenox. "Don’t expect my cooperation to be free."

"I gave you what payment I’m willing to offer."

"Oh, of course!" Galvatron mocked. "Planets, armies, riches and power. You did not account that I might have one more request."

Pissant screeched. "Oh, for cosmic’s unholy sake, Galvatron. Leave the damn Autobots out of this!"

"Why? They’re the reason I’m here."

"No pets allowed." Pissant snorted.

To everyone’s horror, Galvatron tossed the Matrix up and caught it like a ball. He smiled. "Very well." The former Decepticon leader turned about face and aimed for the doors.

"WAIT!" the snail cried. "We’ll accept your terms, Galvatron. Only on the condition that you open a portal large enough to move Psyklenonx’s army through."

Galvatron spun about and pointed at the Mollusk. "What’s in it for you, Werm? Hmm?"

Psyklenox clasped hands behind his back. "Primacron has his own deals with me, Galvatron."

Galvatron’s expression turned cold. "Careful, Psyklenox. Anyone willing to betray one person will not hesitate to betray another." He looked to the creepy android. "You may not realize it, but you are in a bad marriage."

Psyklenox raised his voice. "And isn’t it a wonderful thing that you need not concern yourself in my person affairs?" Psyklenox opened his arms. "Come, Galvatron! What I offer you isn’t a bloodbath or a list of chores! All I ask is that you help us open a couple of portals."

"Why not use the window system that already exists here?"

Pissant crossed his little arms. "Those are Quintesson systems, Galvatron they’re heavily monitored."

The Inoux are using them," the Decepticon countered.

Psyklenox nodded. "Primacron has informed me the Inoux are working with the Quintessons. I don’t like competition."

Galvatron could not fault Psyk and his band of not-so-merry morons for that decision. "Very well, then," he stated. "Release the others and I’ll cooperate.

Psyklenox praised Galvatron’s agreement. But it was Pissant that concerned Galvatron. Given the chance, the Decepticon would certainly squish the mollusk. But he learned long ago that underestimating an enemy was stupid and short-sighted.

Much to Galvatron’s thinning patience, Psyk decided to hold a banquet. Zarak, Scourge, Pissant and many unnamed ruling governors attended. The Regime’s tyrant took his time, basking in the warmth of a well-worked plan. But Galvatron itched to get the job over with and figure a way out. He hoped Optimus and the others were alright but dared not ask. Every now and again he caught Pissant staring with his tiny black eyes. By the time Galvatron thought to say something, Psyklenox declared the banquet over; time to get to business.

Psyklenox’s court whisked to a preplanned destination two miles from the city. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, Galvatron felt alone; a last mech standing before an execution squad. He half listened to Pissant and wondered why the supposed ‘god’ could not use the Matrix himself.

A suspicious tingling niggled the back of Galvatron’s head like someone wiggling a tiny chip loose from its home. Galvatron grew more concerned for his companions and friends.

Psyklenox’s voice struck chords of boredom and growing impatience. "Are you going to stand there all day while we gather dust and grow rust boils or are you going to open a portal?"

"Do not rush me," Galvatron returned with even tones. "I do not know the consequences of possible mistakes. Besides, I don’t understand why the werm can’t do this."

Pissant shook his tiny arms then banged his own head with tiny fists. "I told you, Moron Wannabe! The Council of Zhat Aut-Tauch will not tolerate any mischief. AND while I am still able to use some of my diving abilities, I can’t do everything and in case you have failed to notice, I’m a little SHORT!"

"Oh!" Galvatron mocked. He crouched low enough to stare the snail down. "Size counts, does it?" He stood and laughed. Pointing with his left hand, the former Decepticon leader made the first attempt.

A burst of light zapped from nowhere like a firecracker and vanished.

He tried again with no result.

"Hell’s praises," Psyklenox swore. Do you need an instruction booklet and a translation?"

"Be quiet!" Galvatron hissed he rubbed his fingers together and took the challenge more seriously. They want a portal. They did not ask where. Dark images came to mind and he smiled. How about scaring them all positively cold?

The third attempt came with no effort. A misshapen hole opened the size of a fist. The edges cracked with energy and the window expanded ten feet. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. And the court beheld a world draped in darkness. Unnatural light glared from borders of walls and panels along the flooring. As they watched, the group gasped. The walls dripped with Autobot lifeblood. Part of the wall melted then aged an ash grey. It disintegrated like sand.

Not one person anticipated the freakish thing that snapped its head out the window.

Pissant screamed.

Psyklenox, who stood closest to the black triangular head, leapt backward like a stricken cat.

Void hissed and stretched its neck further, snapping deadly teeth at the android.

"Stop!" Galvatron ordered. The moment left him shaken. The Window fizzled and with it, the Matrix Virus.

A deep seated terror enveloped the group in silence before Psyklenox screamed. "WHAT THE UNHOLY SPHERES WAS THAT?"

Galvatron recovered from surprise faster than they and maintained composure. "Clearly it is the one thing that terrifies you, Psylenox. It is-or was a Virus."

Pissant scoffed. His scoff turned to a chuckle before he cracked into full laughter. All optics glued onto him until the mollusk settled down. "It went right for you, Psyklenox. Love! What pheromones are you producing?"

The creepy android pointed at Galvatron. "How DARE you commit such a treasonous act!"

"Consider it a dry run, oh emperor of the Regime," Galvatron answered calmly. "I had control. Now," he set fists on hips. "How about another try? You pick the target this time."

Psyklenox uttered four complex, five dimensional coordinates. Galvatron made the self-proclaimed emperor repeat himself twice. Galvatron knew he was trying Psyklenox’s patience. He agreed to work with the mob of tyrants. That did not preclude him from being a pain in the aft.

By the time Psyklenox completed the repeated coordinates, Galvatron realized where and when the emperor wanted the window opened.

"Cratis?" Galvatron asked. "Cratis at three point seven thousand cycles ago?"

"Yyyyess," Psyklenox purred.

"Why?"

"Have you not been to Cratis, Galvatron? Have you even heard of Cratis? Fairly doubtful."

At first Galvaron wanted to correct Psyk but changed his mind. Anything leading to Autobot activity could jeopardize everything. With a light shrug for show, Galvatron delved deep with himself. He conjured his own memories; the dead landscape and the former Decepticon leader mentally traveled backward and backward in time. And Baam! He landed on a coordinate sequence. He did not realize part of those coordinates included a specific date.

How did Psyklenox know?

A flare of golden light distracted Galvatron from the question. Before the group stood a house-sized opening into the landscape of a city. Tall buildings and grand towers reflected the sunlight. People traveled back and forth on antigravity vehicles.

"Now, Primacron!" Psyklenox ordered.

The snail clapped his tiny hands. The Inoux that appeared from Alphaxone appeared among them. They leapt through the window and flew or dropped onto the city streets. The window zipped shut and Galvatron snapped his head at the mollusk.

"What the Pitt was THAT? You shut the window!"

"Yes," Pissant confirmed. "They will, shall we say, rack-and-pack Cratis for us before invading Yolthanis III."

Galvatron’s fuel ran cold. Optimus said he fought the Inoux eons ago on Yolthanis III. Sickened, the former Decepticon leader turned away. Psyklenox ordered his court and Zarak to prepare for a planet-sized shipment of raw materials, weapons, machines and slaves, Cratis was not obliterated by its own population; but conquered, ravaged and raped.

Galvatron faintly heard Psyklenox request another window. The Decepticon brooded and wondered whether or not he should breach space-time again. What time laws did he break? What time laws could he break? Could he open a window beneath their feet so they’d all vanish from the present?

Yes, but it would only delay their plans, not stop them. An outburst from Psyklenox dragged Galvatron out of his musings.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S A HUGE SHIP in our space?" Psyklenox cupped the left side of his head, listening to someone on a private comlink.

Zarak bellowed. "What the Torments IS THAT?!"

Galvatron gazed at the pointed direction and he too turned to shock. The Sagittarian Mozart flew soundlessly over the city. The ship cast a cold shadow while Lactromycix’s defenses rallied and warning sirens blared.

Galvatron smiled in spite of himself. "NO!" Pissant screamed. "That’s not possible! I made sure it could not activate!"

Galvatron met the snail’s beady black eyes. "Galvatron!" Pissant shouted, "Open a window! I will guide you through the coordinates."

"No," Galvatron replied firmly. "I’ve had enough of you telling me what to do."

Pissant’s little face turned mean. It looked funny but Galvatron knew the werm meant business. "OPEN A WINDOW OR I WILL KILL THE AUTOBOTS!"

Loathed to obey, Galvatron knew there was more at stake than his pride. He chose a clearing facing the city while Psyklenox and his court scrambled to action.

A spark of temporal energy flared cold blue. Galvatron intensely concentrated and a second spark flashed and vanished. A small opening revealed stars and a planet. With a tiny shout, Pissant aimed energy at the small window.

It collapsed.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Galvatron spun and vehemently cursed the slug.

"I must redirect the energy to a more specific time and place. Coordinate are not enough for my project." Pissant sniveled.

The Decepticon’s optics burned brightly. "You just asked me to open another window! Now it will take more time to gather enough energy for another run, you unscientific imbecile!"

Pissant snorted and rolled his eyes. "Figure it out, Galvatron. You are running out of time!"

The city buzzed with panic. Galvatron found it difficult to concentrate when part of him hoped Prime planned to attack. He pried open another window. It took longer to grow and when it reached two sizes larger Pissant struck it again.

This time the window blew outward and knocked everyone off their feet. A distortion wave rolled from the force. Pissant screamed first then Zarak and two of Psyklenox’s governors. Galvatron lay flat on his back and stared at the distant Autobot ship.

He laughed.

"DAMMIT TO HELCOTH!" Psyklenox swore. "Galvatron open a damned window back to city and do it NOW!"

"No!" Pissant objected. "We must get to Monicus FIRST! WE MUST!"

"Monicus?" Galvatron echoed. "Monicus is gone."

"SHUT UP!" the snail squealed. "I wasn’t TALKING to you!"

Psyklenox’s voice boomed. "I DON’T CARE!"

And to Galvatron’s chagrin, both the android and the slug chorused: "OPEN THE DAMN WINDOW, GALVATRON!"

"There isn’t enough power!" The Decepticon growled back. But he read their faces and knew neither logic nor reason convinced them. He pointed at two of Psyklenox’s constituents as the Mozart fired upon the city. The two victims screamed as the Matrix reorganized their life force and opened a window large enough to move a ship through.

Primacron shouted triumphantly and zapped the window. The coordinates changed and Galvatron recognized Monicus. "FINALLY!" the werm declared. "I CAN FINALLY GET WHAT’S MINE!"

A Sweep dropped from the air and crashed a short distance away. Galvatron shouted above the noise. "WHAT? WHAT IS YOURS?"

"Daraqdiodium, Galvatron! The rarest power crystal in this galaxy! And it’s MINE!"

Galvatron couldn’t decide to be angry or disgusted. Psyklenox and Zarak paid no attention as they directed troops and city defenses this way and that. The Mozart shot Laktromycix against and again.

"It’s time to leave," Primacron said through the noise, "And I need one more item." The snail stretched forth his right hand.

Galvatron lurched as if someone yanked his chest plate off. He stumbled backward, confused and uncoordinated. His body heaved back then lurched once more and the Matrix broke free of his body. He fell face-down as Pissant squealed with delight.

"NOW!" the werm proclaimed. "I shall be free!" the Matrix floated to Primacron. Pissant’s body grew, grew and grew until he crushed Nightstick under him. His body morphed so that his hands stretched and took hold of the Decepticon Matrix of Power. He laughed and held his prize aloft for all to see. "Psyklenox!" he shouted. "I am now your new manager!"

The android leapt into a sprint.

Primacron broke the Matrix housing.

Psyklenox reached too late and he and Primacron stood transfixed on the sphere of beautiful light.

A strange voice emitted from the sphere and Galvatron turned cold.

YOU ARE NOT THE SON OF ZH’XN. YOU HAVE NEITHER RIGHT NOR INTEGRITY. YET I GRANT YOU POWER. AND YOU WILL FEEL THE POWER UNTIL THE END."

Primacron lurched this time. His yellow eyes expanded as if to cover his face. "No!" his body convulsed. No!"

Had he not seen it firsthand, Galvaron would not have believed it. Primacron’s body convulsed and his skin turned silver-black and liquified. Primacron screamed in dire agony as his body reformed into angles and flat sides. His body shifted and contorted into a weapon. Primacron dropped at Psyklenox’s feet.

The android dictator picked it up and turned the gun from side to side. Then he picked up the Matrix which returned to its original shell. "Most unexpected," Psyklenox mused. He laughed when Primacron pleaded for help. The android pointed his new-found toy at Galvatron, changed his mind and shot one of his own bodyguards. The victim’s form shattered into a microcosm of colorful particles. A shriek followed.

It took a few seconds before Galvatron realized the scream dd not come from the vaporized victim, but Primacron.

Psyklenox scoffed with surprise and shot one of his governors. The female vanished in a horizontal shower of particles and again, the now-sapient weapon screamed, expressing her agony.

Psyklenox laughed, heedless of mechanical sounds of transformation approaching from behind.

Galvatron flinched with surprise when Ultra Magnus tackled the distracted android.

"RUN!" Magnus ordered. "I got him! RUN!"

"Not yet," Galvatron replied. He stretched out his hand and the Matrix flew to him. Turning to the open window, Galvatron searched his memory to conjure coordinates.

And then he remembered the book Rusti snatched.

The gateways!

Reconfiguring directions, Galvatron programed the window.

A billow of thunder drowned all noise. The Mozart descended from the clouds while Scourge and his minions shot laser arrows against the force field.

The Mozart circled Laktromycix, unleashing a barrage of bombs before he came within twenty feet of the ground.

A Sweep raced ahead of the cruiser and fired at Magnus. The Major-general suffered several injuries but refused to release Psyklenox. Galvatron threw himself at the sweep as it looped back for another attack.

"GAVATRON!" Magnus barked above the rumbling waves, "GET TO THE SHIP!"

"NO! YOU ARE INDISPENSABLE, MAGNUS GO! I’ll hold them here! Go!" The city commander yet hesitated. Galvatron swept up the Primacron weapon and pointed it at Magnus. "GO!" He shot the Sweep then trained the weapon again. "GO!" Galvatron resolutely ignored the concern in Magnus’ expression.

With a running start, the city commander leapt into the air, shifted into jet mode and blasted off. His dust cloud distracted the small party.

Magnus flew out of range and joined his ship.

Galvatron looked from him to the angry group. The Metaxan governors and Targetmaster binaries watched as Scourge and three Sweeps lent their assistance to Psyklenox’s bodyguards. They jumped Galvatron who offered little to no resistance.

With vitriol on his smiling face, Psyklenox approached to gloat.

"Guess you want me to spend the night," Galvatron taunted.

Psyk folded his arms. "You can sleep in the spare bedroom." The android watched as the Sweeps eagerly sliced off both Galvatron’s legs and his right arm.

Magnus circled the Mozart once before taking point in the starboard shuttle bay. Delighted to have his ship back online, he shifted to truck mode and raced for auxiliary control. "Sagittarian Mozart," he called.

ONLINE.

"Locate Optimus Prime-" he stopped short when he met Rodimus at the AC door.

Roddi grinned as if all the light around them came from within. "Too late, Mags. Cloudstreaker’s on the bridge. We’re rendezvousing with the Infraction and getting the flock out."

"Galvatron’s down there and in trouble."

"Galvatron is a big boy. He can handle himself."

"Rodimus-"

"Optimus first," Roddi emphasized.

Magnus reluctantly agreed. The ship bucked and shuddered and both mechs stumbled with the impact.

Rodimus returned to the auxiliary. "Seems like their reinforcements have finally arrived.

"Which reinforcements?" Magnus asked as he shadowed Prime. "And how did you get on board? How did you change back?"

"Later!" Roddi shouted as the ship tilted and engines revved. Rodimus made adjustments on the instrument panel. "Rain, get those bozos off our tail!"

Cloudy’s voice chimed through ship-wide comms. "We’ve got serious company, Commander!"

Rodimus sighed. "We need time to extract our friends from the city. Ultra Magnus you and Cloudstreaker are the only aerial fighters we have."

"All you have to do is ask Rodimus," Magnus said without malice.

Rodimus nodded. "Skorponok, the big one and three Headmasters are out there. Might need some extra ammunition."

Rusti barely snapped the safety belt when Prime shot down the street. He ran through stop signs and sideswiped several unoccupied vehicles.

Rusti spotted the Inoux before Prime did. She unintentionally screamed as he slammed the brakes. He transformed around her. "No!" she objected, "No, he’s baiting you!" She raced off the street as the Inoux Infantry class pecked the ground with sturdy footless legs.

It leapt for Prime like a shiny black arrow. Optimus side-stepped the assault and followed with a shot from his rifle.

The laser did no damage to the alien but the force snapped the Inoux off course and it crashed into a truck, smashing the vehicle as though it were plastic. The alien rebounded and charged for a second assault.

Prime eyed his wife. "Keep moving. I’ll catch up."

Rusti wanted to object even as she crossed another street. It took all her will not to look back when something thudded and crashed behind.

She rounded a corner and held her back to the wall. High above the city, the Sagittarian Mozart floated in wait. "Mozart," she mentally called. "What is going on? Tell me what is going on."

For several moments, the fight between Prime and the Inoux hit a silent wall. Don’t panic, she told herself. Optimus will be just fine. "Mozart," she said aloud, "What is going on?"

"PERSONNEL INFLUX DISORIENTATION, MISS LADY. MEDICAL ASSISTANCE OFFLINE."

"What’s that mean-never mind." Rusti searched her surroundings in hopes of higher ground. She needed to see the whole city to determine how to guide the ship. A sturdy outcropping of rock piled behind a nature grove several buildings away. Rusti could not tell its distance, only that she needed to get there as soon as possible.

"HOSTILES INCOMING! Mozart warned. "DECEPTICONS!"

Rusti instinctively hit the pavement when three Sweeps flew close overhead and shot into the sky. "Evasive maneuvers, Mozart!" she ordered. "Ascend!" She raced down the sidewalk, searching for a means to reach the boulders. Down one block, then another led her into a nice neighborhood. An old, small vehicle with a dirty exterior and broken windshield sat in front of an older but tidy home.

"It’s got wheels." she said to herself. "It’ll work." She slid into the dusty and grimy car with a grimace. The vehicle started under her urging. Rusti released the brake and steered to the end of the street. She glanced behind, batted her eyes left, right and left again before flooring the pedal. The car momentarily fish tailed. Rusti drove it hard. She shot through two stop signs and evaded a chase.

The city limits came without gates, guards or guns. The checkpoint stood empty. She wondered if the time distortion wave changed the city’s security. The opened gate invited her and Rusti drove right through.

Unlike the Inouxian Assassin Optimus confronted on Mars, the Infantry did not try to hack the Autobot leader on a psychological level. But then, Optimus was ill at the time he fought the Assassin and more vulnerable to attack.

The Infantry came at Prime as Rusti escaped the scene. Prime landed a foot in the freak’s face. It flew back and landed hard against a delivery truck.

Prime bent over, palms on knees. "Is that all you have? Come on."

The Inoux hissed, rolled over and picked up the truck. Optimus punched the vehicle so that it reversed course and hit the Inoux. Truck and black alien slapped the street.

The infantry sliced its way through the truck like

a living can opener. It came at Prime again, its arms swung open and it leapt into the air.

Prime ducked, caught the Inoux’s advancing leg and twirled it clockwise. Optimus released his opponent and the alien flew through the door of a dry ice factory.

Optimus huffed as people scattered like bugs. "Had enough?" he called. "Or shall we go another round?" he waited... waited...

The Inoux burst out the factory’s upper story window. A long thick hose trailed behind it like an old dead snake. With a shake of its hands, the monster released a shower of liquid nitrogen.

Optimus didn’t think he could move faster than at any other time in his life. He leapt behind another deliver truck then backed into a post office when the truck burst from the intense cold.

Prime instinctively covered his head then peeked under covering arms as debris floated and rained on the ground. The cap from the truck’s tire rolled toward him like a penny on its side. It hit a rock and dropped.

Optimus grabbed the cap and using a tight-beam laser from his optics, he reformed the cap into a disc with a wicked-thin edge.

Peering round the corner, he watched the Inoux snooped around the truck, looking for a dead enemy. The Infantry Class checked under the truck, the liquid nitrogen hose pointed downward. The minute he’d spot Optimus, that hose and its contents would point high. Optimus quickly calculated action, reaction, speed and trajectory.

Tricky.

He counted to three, leapt out of hiding and imitated a humanoid practiced ballet, the Inoux swung right, hose at the ready. The nitrogen sprayed. Prime threw the disc as hard and accurately as he could before hitting the ground and rolling out of reach.

The disc hit the hose head and sliced the nozzle in half. The Inoux lost control of the hose and its pressure. The hose snaked up and down and splattered the alien. The ground underfoot froze instantly. Nitrogen sprayed the alien until someone from the factory shut the nitrogen off.

Optimus ripped the rail from a nearby set of stairs. He approached the Inoux and swung the metal rod like a bat.

The Inoux shattered like obsidian.

Without another thought, the Autobot leader jumped over the mess, transformed and sped down the street.

The little car made it uphill about half way. Not good enough for Rusti. She got out and ran the rest of the way, scrabbling on all fours over stones and loose gravel. She reached the top and searched for the Sagittarian Mozart.

There! Twelve-thirty from where she stood. The Autobot star cruiser flew just under cloud cover. Four Decepticon jets zipped to and fro, spitting laser fire at the ship. The Mozart’s shield held strong for the moment.

"I can do this," Rusti assured herself. "I can do this." she closed her eyes and reached for the Mozart. The computer skipped as if surprised by her invading mind. But the ship itself greeted her and released control. Rusti opened her eyes and smiled subtly.

"Now," she whispered, "let’s show those bastards how to fly."

The Mozart changed his shield frequency. His form changed into a more atmospheric-friendly shape. A set of sleek wings folded out from the starboard/port. Mozart raced ahead of his six attackers. As they chased, their laser fire hit the shield with the impact of cotton balls.

Rusti ordered the Mozart to go into a cold drop. The ship cut thrusters and dipped to the right. The Sweeps passed right by. The Mozart’s engines kicked back on and his ion cannons blew two Sweeps out of the air. The other Decepticons darted into the clouds. They stayed out of range for seven seconds before reappearing above the Mozart and barraged the ship at close range. As they fired from above, several buildings around the city split open and also fired on the ship.

Not to be outdone by an enemy, Rusti guided Mozart in a hairpin turn. The ship again dropped close to Laktromycix and blasted the offensive buildings one by one and eliminated two ground-to-air laser cannons.

Something mentally smacked Rusti and she flinched. Rodimus! The Mozart informed her Rodimus and a companion made it to the bridge.

She blinked. What companion?

Rusti spotted Optimus speeding down an empty street before the ground was shot out from under her. She screamed and dropped amid a landslide. Boulders missed her as she continued the deadly descent. Her mind jumbled as her vision filled with confusion. The rocks cracked and sliced her while dark thunder boomed overhead.

And then the fall stopped when a giant hand grabbed her out of the slide.

"GO!"

She crumpled upon solid metal flooring and coughed. Rusti rolled side to side and startled when the floor trembled.

"Whoa, easy there, Lady-Friend," Roddi said to calm her. "We gotchya. We gotchya." He raised his voice: "They’re onboard, Cloudstreaker!" he called. "Get us the Pitt out of here!"

"Galvatron-" Rusti’s voice cut short and she coughed again.

"We’ll come back-" the Mozart quaked and tilted from a direct hit. "Skorponok’s kicking our ass at the moment."

Cloudstreaker engaged the Mozart’s improved engines and thrust the cruiser across the land. The Decepticons hung tight on the tail until she made the most daring move: Cloudstreaker sent all shields to the right side of the Mozart then raced and thrust upward. The ship, not designed for razorplaining used the shields as a cushion and swept up and up six miles. Three Sweeps and two Headmasters crashed and burned when they failed to copy the moves.

Cloudstreaker made a hairpin loop, stressing the Mozart’s structural integrity. Then the crazy femme plunged the Autobot ship into Galvatron’s time window. The second the Mozart passed, the window collapsed, leaving Skorponok roaring with rage before he crashed.

Too close to call.