Transformers: 

     “Well, Optimus Prime, your time is up.  Do you have the Combaticons?”  It was Morrow, his face projected and stretched out on the viewer until he looked like some sort of organic Transformer.  Exactly one hundred and sixty-eight hours, or seven standard Terran days, Morrow had called back, demanding to speak with Optimus immediately.  Blaster had put him through, eventually, but not before warning Optimus and giving him time to compose himself.
     “I’m afraid not, Rear Admiral Morrow.  As of yet, we have been unable to locate the Combaticons.” Optimus replied.  On his left sat Grimlock, and on his right was Prowl.  He had briefly considered adding Goldbug, but didn’t think that the hot-tempered little Technobot would have been a useful addition.  Considering how he had been acting, he would probably have led the Autobots to war with the Terrans.
     “Most unfortunate.  It seems that I was wrong to count on your efforts.” Morrow said.  The man was impossible to like, it seemed, and his acid tone and offensive comments seemed designed to incite hatred.
     “Now wait just a moment, Rear Admiral!” Optimus objected.  “As leader of the Autobots, I resent the implication that we are either incapable, or unwilling, to locate the Combaticons.  However, Cybertron is a large planet, and half of it is now closed to us.”
     “I know.” Morrow replied.  “I have been in contact with Megatron, of the Decepticons.  I doubt that he will prove to be any more efficient than you have been.  Thank you for your time, I suppose.”  And before anyone could say a thing, Morrow closed the channel, leaving the trio of Autobot leaders facing a black screen.  In his head, Optimus ran through a quick mechano-meditation routine, trying to regain control of his emotions.  Nothing would be gained now by exploding at nothing, and he could still regain control of the situation.
     “Grimlock warn you.”  Leaning back in his chair, Grimlock laced his hands behind his head.  “Grimlock say, ‘Morrow very arrogant.  Morrow not listen to anything you say.’  And was Grimlock right?” he asked.  It was obvious from his tone that he was not expecting an answer, and that this was his way of keeping his temper.
     “Now is not the time, Grimlcok.” Optimus said.  It was a tribute to his self-control that no sign of exasperation showed in his voice.  “All right, Prowl, call Blaster.  Tell him I want a channel to Earth now.  Grimlock, try and get through to Megatron, and warn him.  Morrow seems to be looking for a fight, and if Megatron gives it to him, things could get very ugly.”

     “Come on.” Dogfight said, dragging himself forward.  The shot he had taken had done some damage, but hadn’t put him out of it.  Yet.  Looking back, he could see that Mirage wasn’t moving.  The blast he’d taken was right in the chest, and he looked to be down for the count.  Fortunately, Dogfight had checked him, and he knew he wasn’t dead.  But if those explosives weren’t defused soon, he would be.  And he’d have plenty of company.
     Gathering his strength, Dogfight crawled forward, hoping that there was still time.  Belatedly, he realized that he should have called for backup as soon as they established hostile intent.  But no, yet another hotheaded decision, and this time it wasn’t just he who would bear the consequences.
     It was getting harder to move, he found.  Already, he was aware of the massive damage that he had sustained.  Using his still-mobile hand, he pulled out his communicator.
     “Attention, Autobot Council chambers.  You must evacuate.  There is a bomb set to explode.  Repeat, evacuate immediately.”  Leaving the line open, so they could trace his location, Dogfight continued to crawl.  Just a few more meters, and then just round the corner.  He was so close.

     “The week is out, Megatron.  Where are the prisoners?” Morrow asked.  For the Decepticons, Megatron alone spoke with the Terran envoy.  He wanted to remind this pompous fool that he held more power than Morrow could dream of.
     “As I said, the Decepticon Empire has no intention of releasing any of its citizens to the Terrans.  Even if we knew their whereabouts,” Megatron said, smirking, “we’d never tell you.  Not that you have the strength to come and take them anyway.”  With a signal to someone outside of the monitors range, the comm line was severed, leaving Morrow fuming impotently on the bridge of his ship.
     Turning in his seat, Morrow looked back at Redburn.  Of course, Redburn was none too happy to be receiving his superiors attention, now that Morrows temper seemed on the verge of exploding.  “Mr. Redburn,” Morrow said, “signal the drop bays on the Unceasing Vigilance and our three escorts.  Tell them to proceed with Operation: Dropzone.  Then have the vessels move into position to provide covering fire.”  Morrow turned back to the monitor, watching as the sensor tech patched in the radar display.  On the screen, he could see the trio of smaller vessels disgorging hordes of drop pods, and his own mighty dreadnought letting loose with about as many as the other three vessels combined. It was an amazing sight, and it made him remember why he was proud to serve in the Terran Navy.
     Once the troops were away, the four vessels took up closer orbits, training their weapons on the arranged dropzone.  Though the Decepticons possessed no known starcraft, they were obviously hiding whatever had attacked the Infinity, and Morrow was taking no more chances.
     “All ships, keep weapons at the ready.  Prepare all countermeasures, both electronic and physical.  I don’t want anyone getting caught with their pants down.” Morrow said.  He had never been good at speeches, he thought to himself, and that one had ranked right up there with his worst.  Though usually it would be thought impossible for a modern battleship to be caught off guard, the lesson had been learned in Sector 12.  Morrow was not about to add his ship to the tally.
     “Now, you Decepticon fool,” Morrow muttered to himself, “let’s see who has the strength to take what they want.”

     “The time has come.” Megatron said.  Turning to a monitor next to him, he signaled the others.  “Up, up to the heavens, my Decepticons.  And we shall show those Terrans the folly of challenging us!”  A cheer went up all around Megatron, as the bots around him got to their work.  On the monitor, he could see that the activity on each of the other three stations was similar.
     At last, the secret had been revealed.  The jamming towers had been shut down, and the dome over the construction site had opened.  From within, a quartet of vessels sailed up, their anti-gravitic generators struggling to pull free of Cybertrons gravity.  Their weapon batteries were primed and ready, and as they sped through the air, they fired salvo after salvo at the drop pods.  The small, oblong structures exploded like miniature suns, the troopers inside helpless and hopeless.  Ground based batteries added their power, smashing into the pods and obliterating them.
     The ships continued to rise, finally breaking free from the gravity well of the planet, and settling into orbit around the planet.  They faced off against the Terran ships, both sides exchanging tentative blows against each other, testing the defenses.  Neither knew what the other was fully capable of, and neither wished to expend ordinance on an attack which would prove futile.
     In the atmosphere, meanwhile, the hordes of pods screamed down towards the surface, the troopers inside strapped in and scared stupid.  The ground defenses were still smashing them out of the sky, but more and more pods were landing safely.  Slight maneuvers in the instant before blasts struck threw the target locks off, and pods managed to avoid destruction for a little while, at least.
     Back in space, the Decepticon fleet, led by a refit Warworld, had turned its full power against the Terrans.  On the bridge of the Warworld, Megatron ordered his fleet.  “Attack, Decepticons!” he cried.  “Soundwave, Snaptrap, Hook, prepare to follow me.  The Warworld will drive through to the center, and the Conquest, Bloodbath and Slaughter will follow me in.  Prepare to engage at close range.”  In response to his orders, the helm officer accelerated the Warworld forward, the distance between the Decepticon and Terran ships closing rapidly.  Streams of laser energy lanced out from both sides, with shields shuddering and sparks flying.  Had they not been in the cold vacuum of space, the sound would have been deafening, the explosions loud enough to destroy a persons hearing.
     Suddenly, on of the three escort ships shuddered and bulged, the super-strong armor trying desperately to maintain the hull integrity.  But it was already too late, and the vessel exploded in a hail of debris, the engines releasing a massive shockwave as the stored energy struggled to be free.  The remaining ships were tossed about, fleet coherency dissolving in the wake of that firestorm.

     “Sir, we’ve lost the Icarus!” Redburn cried out.  “The Ganges is reporting heavy damage, and the Saratoga has lost two of their missile bays.”  The boy was obviously rattled, and Morrow wasn’t surprised.  This was probably the kids first combat, and you could never be sure how you would react.
     “How about us, lieutenant?  Can I get a damage report please?” Morrow said, sparing a second to respond to Redburn.  The battle was going badly for the Terrans, and Morrow had to face the idea that a withdrawal would be necessary.  He hated to think of abandoning the troopers on-planet, but the security of the fleet had to take prominence.  On Cybertron, he had managed to land approximately 1500 troopers, along with several dozen combat vehicles.  His three remaining vessels, in comparison, had a combined crew complement of well over five thousand.  “Helm, swing us three degrees port, and bring the aft laser batteries on line.  Try to keep our left side to them.” he ordered, forced to shout over the sounds of battle.
     “Sir.”  It was Redburn again.  “We’ve got a hull breach on decks three and six, and the prow missile bay has been smashed.  Engineering reports shields holding steady at eighty-five percent.”  Not bad, Morrow thought.  His ship was holding up quite nicely in combat, better than he had expected really.
     The ship shuddered after receiving another broadside from the Warworld.  The two biggest ships had stood off each other, hammering one another to the exclusion of all else.  This plan, however, left his two remaining escorts outnumbered by the three Decepticon vessels.

     “All right, men, fall in!” the sergeant shouted.  Before him, the ranks of power-armored soldiers lined up, their weapons at the ready.  Their suits were based off of the type of technology used in the human component of the –master equipment, as well as technology developed from human sources.  Though a single trooper was no match for a regular sized Transformer, several working together could easily take them down.  Behind them, he could see the biped forms of the combat vehicles.  Standing twice as tall as the armored troopers, it consisted of a pair of legs and a cockpit, with weapons pods hanging off the sides.  Usually they mounted energy weapons, but here and there he could see some with missile pods.
     “Now, we need to establish a beachhead.  You known the drill; strip the pods, construct the fortification.  Move!” he screamed.  As the men hustled into action, the sergeant looked up at the sky.  The ships were too far out to see, but he thought that he could see the tell-tale flicker of massive fire.
 “Good luck, sir.” he murmured.

     “Warning.  Warning.  Structural integrity field failing.  Suggest all crew evacuate immediately.” the computer chimed.  All around, sparks were shooting out of ruptured conduits and smashed circuit boards.  The bridge was in chaos, with half the crew either dead or incapacitated.  Looking around, Megatron knew what must be done.
     Activating the ship wide intercom, he began to give his orders.  “All Decepticons, abandon vessel.. Repeat, abandon vessel.”  Switching to a private channel, he contacted the engineering bay.  “Mixmaster,” he said, summoning the head of the engineering division.  “I need full power for another few moments.  Channel it all into shields and propulsion.”  From the other end, he could hear a distant affirmative, as though Mixmaster was far from the speaker.  Around him, he could see the still-healthy men dragging their injured compatriots to the escape pods.  All around him, he could see that this ship was doomed.  Almost all of the panels were dark, and the bridge was full of smoke and fire.  His command chair was one of the only things that still worked, and he called up a damage assessment.  He was disturbed at how many of the sections of the ship showed dark, meaning they were either breached by weapons fire, or that their systems had backfired and exploded, leaving them inhabitable.  He settled into the chair, looking out again on the desolation of his precious Warworld.  It was to have been the greatest ship in his new fleet, but those cursed Terrans had proven to be tougher than they looked.
     “You will pay, Morrow.” Megatron said, to no-one in particular.  The computer chimed announcing that all other crew members had evacuated.  At last, he was alone on the Warworld.  And now, Morrow would pay.

     Autobot satellites had observed the whole thing, watching with macabre fascination the battle taking place in the sky.  They had seen the drop pods descend to the surface, many getting destroyed but some still getting through.  Enough, they calculated, to land a significant force, one which could cause extreme damage to Decepticon forces if left to run wild.  Optimus made a mental note to dispatch a team to insure that no further damage was done before someone could get into contact with Terra.
     They had seen the massive battle taking place above them, watching as Megatrons plan backfired.  Instead of being able to separate and obliterate the Terran vessels, his Warworld had been cut off from reinforcements, and taken a severe beating at the hands of Morrow’s flagship.  Though the other Decepticon ships tried their best, they could not seem to breach the Terran line and reinforce their commander.
     And the Autobot Council watched as Megatron put his last, desperate plan into action.  They saw the Warworld dispatch escape pods, tiny bubbles holding injured and healthy survivors from the massacre.  Sensors showed a massive energy buildup on the Warworld, and its engine engaged, driving deeper towards Morrows dreadnought.  Though the quartet of Terran vessels poured on the firepower, the Warworld advanced, until it was right in front of the dreadnought.  And then, it simply wasn’t there anymore.
     A transwarp explosion is one of the most powerful blasts known, and the most powerful that can be safely controlled and used.  They watched a replay, slowing it down to see what had happened.  The Warworld core bulged, then burst, waves of super-powerful energy expanding out in a deadly sphere.  Morrow, his  crew and his ship were vaporised, their proximity assuring their death.  The other ships, the two Terran and three Decepticon, were hurled backwards, far from each other and out of commission for the time being.  It would take time for them to repair their ships enough even to move, let alone fight.  It seemed that the space war above Cybertron was done for now.

    In space, fragments of the Warworld flew out, some impacting on the moon and Cybertron, and many simply spiraling out into space.  Among then were several large fragments, which re-entered the atmosphere burning and melting.  A particularly large piece slammed down in the space near Iacon, creating a huge crater.
     And within that crater, something moved.