By Tony “Thunder” Klepack

            The silence of the G’Neela supply depot was shattered in an abrupt assault by a squadron of four attack cruisers. Without warning or any attempts at communication, the four vessels opened fire on the Decepticon outpost, instantly destroying any weapon and defense systems they could utilize against the invaders.

            “What the hell is going on?” Drencher yelled to his comrade, G-Screen, as they rushed to their posts in the chaotic wake of the attack.

            “I don’t know!” The other replied. “Somebody just dropped out of Hyperspace and hit


            “But who?” Drencher asked as they reached the armory and the waiting heavy weapons. After all, the Disciples shouldn’t have known about an obscure supply depot like this one--it wasn’t like they were very large or tactically important. And word had spread quickly about the surprise attack on the Autobots at the Decepticons’ hands--certainly they couldn’t even manage a small attack like this one anymore…assuming any of them had even survived the assault any way.

“All units, prepare for boarding!” Commander Tyzok’s voice announced over their comlinks. “I repeat, all units prepare to repel enemy infiltration teams! All units--”

The comm channel burst into static right then, indicating that either they were being jammed by powerful enemy equipment--or that the command center had just been destroyed.

Either option didn’t bode well for the station crew, Drencher knew. He checked the setting on his pulse rifle and followed after G-Screen as they rushed to an aft airlock that lead to the adjacent shuttle bay.

Drencher usually hated the cramped quarters of the stellar based supply depot, but this time he was thankful for their set-up. Being a D-class space station, they only had the main shuttle bay and one minor maintenance port--but it was unlikely that the invaders would bother to try an attack through the maintenance port. It was too small to properly deploy a strike force out of and they could easily be cut down before they reached the main quarters of the station.

There were only three ways in and out of the main shuttle bay--and two were air locks while the other was a small maintenance duct. Both air locks were covered thoroughly and the duct was protected by security systems--but again, the duct made an unlikely method of infiltration due to the minuscule amount of invaders it could handle at one time.

Their unit commander, Exogun, issued silent hand orders for the group to fall into their assigned positions to repel the invaders. Drencher bit air hard and exhaled sharply, hoping it would do something to help calm his nerves and help him focus. Unfortunately, it did little to help aid him…

            The Decepticon security force stood and squat respectively in their positions, awaiting some indication of the enemy presence aboard the station. After several tense moments of waiting in silence, still nothing had happened.

            It wasn’t until Exogun had went for his comlink to contact Rhegris, the deputy commander of the other security group guarding the second airlock, that something finally happened to justify their fears.

            Something far down the corridor behind them exploded violently, seemingly shaking the entire station with it’s force.

            “What was that--?“

            G-Screen never got an opportunity to finish his sentence as a plasma beam tore through his chest, followed by a volley of several more. He fell in the first salvo along with two other Decepticons. The others narrowly avoided the rear assault by ducking for cover as best they could in the small maintenance ducts around them or the small machine outcrops scattered about near the walls.

            “Autobots, attack!”

            “Autobots!” Exogun exclaimed, firing a plasma beam off at the sound in the smokey corridor beyond them. “But how?!”

            Drencher had no time to consider that question as another explosion took out the airlock to the shuttle bay behind them. Exogun was thrown against the floor along with another warrior and Drencher found himself just barely able to avoid a hail of shrapnel to his face.

            A hail of plasma energy beams sailed out of the ruptured airlock to the shuttle bay, joining the volley from the opposite end of the corridor. Caught between the two extremes, several more Decepticons collapsed aflame, unable to find sufficient cover from both directions.

            The Pincer maneuver. Catching your enemy from two different directions at the same time--it was a classic battle strategy, Drencher knew, but one would never have suspected it to be deployed here. The conditions didn’t seem conducive to it--which was maybe why the Autobot commander had decided to use it here instead of something more conventional.

            He couldn’t figure out yet exactly how the enemy had gotten placed behind them all though. Unless…one of the air locks to open space had been attacked and they’d entered through it? Of course that would require a lot of effort… but then, their comm channels had been knocked out and quite possibly their external sensors too. Perhaps it had all been intentional so they could sneak one ship alongside the depot and do just what they’d done…leaving the security forces to believe they would try the obvious and try to breach the station via the shuttle bay.

            And now they were caught in a lethal crossfire... if someone didn’t get them organized fast, the Autobots would surely be victorious. Drencher cast a glance around the corridor at his comrades and noticed he was fast running out of them...three remained at the far end of the corridor, fighting their enemy whom had entered from the airlock while only one defended the entrance to the shuttle bay.

            His approach had pretty much already been decided for him, so he turned and assisted his fellow Decepticon, attempting to keep the one group of Autobots from getting any closer to the heart of the station.

            The firefight continued for several more minutes until a flash behind him caught his attention and he reflexively turned. Drencher’s gaze hadn’t even rotated all the way before an energy bolt caught him straight in the chest module and he found his footing collapsing beneath him.

            Drencher felt like he had fallen in slow motion, watching helplessly as the other defender beyond him took several shots from two different directions. He instantly knew that the explosion he’d heard behind him had been some sort of explosive removing their rear guard and exposing them fully to the crossfire. The other Decepticon collapsed to the deck dead and then he too was lying on his back, the cool metal of the deck keeping him from totally succumbing to the pain in his chest.

            After another moment of lying there, Drencher heard the distant sounds of the invaders getting closer and he knew that there simply was no one left to defend the base–not in this section, maybe not anywhere.

            A group of Autobots came into his view. Most of them simply rushed around his fallen form while three stopped, their gaze fixed upon him. One was predominantly red and obviously a soldier, the other red and grey while their middle member looked youthful and far more innocent then his two colleagues–although Drencher knew “youthful” was a relative thing among their kind. The middle Autobot was also mostly red in color and had a flaming design painted upon his chest; his brilliant blue optics seemed to suggest he was in some position of authority.

            “I surrender...” he managed to croak out. “Please....spare me...”

            “Sorry,” the middle Autobot said. He raised his rifle and aimed it at Drencher. “We don’t take prisoners!” he sneered.

            The last memory Drencher would ever have was of a brilliant purple-white energy blast erupting from the Autobot’s gun.

            “Was that necessary?” Sludge asked.

            Hot Rod lowered his rifle. “I aim to send the Decepticons a message,” he replied coolly. “They’ve been playing hard ball with up to this point and we’ve been using kid gloves, as the Humans say. It’s time they learned we can be just as deadly as they can.”

            Sludge said nothing.

            “For whatever it’s worth, I’m with you,” Cliffjumper replied. “If Prime were still around, who knows how things would still be going. But he’s not and after the ‘Cons did what they did to me on that shuttle... I was brought back for some reason, Hot Rod, and I’m not wasting my second shot at life.”

            Hot Rod smiled lightly.

            “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

            Cliffjumper smiled back. “Anytime, buddy.”

            He started off down the corridor and Sludge joined him. They stopped when they realized Hot Rod had not joined them.

            “Aren’t you coming?” Cliffjumper asked.

            “Go ahead,” Hot Rod said. “I just need a moment...”

            The other nodded and the Autobots continued on their way, disappearing around the junction in the corridor where the others had gone.

            He looked down at the Decepticon he had just killed and noted the large hole in it’s head module where he’d just shot it. A small wisp of smoke drifted up from the still warm circuitry and fluid drizzled out of the ruined shell.

            He had just taken this Transformer’s life... he recalled Autobot City several months earlier and the Decepticon assault. That was when this had all really began for him... he remembered grabbing Tentakil’s body and tearing his tentacles away, thrashing his body...squeezing the life out of him with his bare had revolted him at the time just how easy it had been to do it. To take another’s life in the name of the war.

            It was so easy to kill... and as much as he couldn’t forget the life he had taken, he couldn’t forget the lives the Decepticons had murdered so easily either. Friends... Optimus Prime, Grimlock, Kup... very many of his dear friends were dead now and all because Optimus hadn’t wanted to traverse the same path as Megatron and make sure their enemy were not just defeated, but eradicated from existence.

            It was a terrible price to pay to not learn the lesson he had from it all–that only one side could truly remain standing in this conflict. It would either be the Decepticons or the Autobots in the end, not both... and the Decepticons had a great start on them.

            And Sonimus... she was ready to make all the same old mistakes as before–lead their people merrily down the path of destruction just to protect some outmoded principles that didn’t count for much in the here and now.

            She just didn’t understand–war wasn’t about ideology, it was about killing to get your way. And if they had to stoop to the Decepticons level to survive, then so be it. In the end, he wanted nothing less then the Decepticons erased from the universe and he would stop at nothing to accomplish that goal, no matter how impractical it currently seemed.

            This supply depot was a modest start to their jihad against the Decepticon empire. But everything had to start somewhere...small steps composed any great journey, he knew, and they would need much more supplies and armaments to make a difference against their enemy. And, of course, a strategy of some sort... but he was already forming one and once everything had settled into place, he fully intended to cut out the cancer that the Decepticon empire was to the Galaxy. Then, and only then, could there ever truly be any peace.

                                      *                                     *                                     *

            Rapture shook Sunfire, who was still sitting cross legged on the floor of the bridge.

            “Wake up!” she exclaimed. “We need you!”

            The young woman’s eyes slowly opened, her mind returning to the confines of the reality around her. She instantly felt the sharp pitch of the vessel and knew something was wrong.

            “They have damaged the ship critically,” Avatar Prime said to her nearby. “It is unresponsive and we are going to crash.”

The ship spun loosely, it’s mind no longer in control of it’s decent. Everyone grabbed for a

handhold as the ship continued to fall into the atmosphere. Securing herself against one of the featureless consoles, Sunfire closed her eyes once again and concentrated.

            “What’s she do--” Avatar Prime started to ask as the ship pitched once again, throwing him and Rapture loose. To her credit, Sunfire managed to retain her grip on the console even as she kept her eyes closed and her mind transfixed on some yet unknown goal.

            A moment later, the ship’s descent abruptly evened out and the group of Humans seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief.

            “What happened?” Rapture asked. “How did we stop?”

            Militant Prime pointed to the view port beyond her. “It seems our associate has done some good after all,” he replied.

            The others turned to look and were startled to see another one of the Masters’ living vessels alongside their own. Avatar cast a glance in the opposite direction and noticed an adjacent one on the opposing side of their ship.

            Sunfire opened her eyes once more.

            “We’re safe,” she explained. “I contacted the other vessels and told them we needed their help. They’re supporting our descent now.”

            “Most ingenious,” Avatar said. “We are fortunate we had thee on this trip.”

            “Yes, we couldn’t have accomplished it without her,” Militant retorted sarcastically. “She got us into this situation, so it seems only fair she delivered us from it as well.”

            Avatar Prime nodded slightly at that, his warm eyes never betraying any negative emotion at the other’s comment.

            “Thy suspect we shall have much to discuss when we return to the surface,” Observer Prime interjected. “This Armada of warships seems vast indeed. Can we possibly hope to fight such an opponent?”

            “It does seem hard to believe,” Healer Prime agreed. “Going off mere appearance, we would not seem to be able to win.”

            “Recall, however, that much of our ancestors also believed this to be true when they first went to war against the Mechs,” Avatar said. “And yet, they did prove to be a formidable foe against them.”

            Militant nodded. “Thou are correct. We need tactical information–what are thy enemies strengths? Their weaknesses? Surely they must have some, no matter how great they seem.”

            The others nodded in agreement.

            “We have much to discuss,” Avatar Prime said. “When we reach the surface in a few minutes, we can convene the entire Circle and do so in a proper atmosphere.”

            Rapture looked to Sunfire, who was seated on a chair nearby.

            “Are you okay? You don’t look too good.”

            “Just....exhausted from the exertion of going into the void, “ the other explained. “It took every ounce of my powers to do so. I don’t think I’ll be able to do that again–at least, not for some time.”

            “You should be able to get some rest when we land.” Rapture smiled slightly. “The others will probably need to discuss what to do next and won’t need us for a little while.”

            Sunfire nodded and propped her head up with her hand. She was physically taxed, Rapture could tell, and was obviously trying to appear more strong then she was at the moment.

            It was several more minutes before the other vessels landed their injured member and it’s passengers could disembark safely. Sunfire leaned on Rapture slightly as they disembarked alongside the others.

            Once they were all clear of the vessel, the Masters turned and watched as several of their living ships hovered high over the injured vessel in a semi-circle. The injured vessel shrieked a final cry and then it’s form turned a dull grey before quickly becoming blackened and crumbling into a pile of organic ash.

            The brethren of the departed vessel began singing a low wail beyond it, something Rapture could only liken to a final hymn for a departed soul. The vessels continued their harmony, slowly ascending into the skies of Eden beyond. All around them, Rapture watched as the Masters hands followed the ships upward into the sky, tracing their path.

            She had lived among them for a while now and she confessed she did not understand all of their rituals. Certainly, this was one of those instances–she had yet to see one of their vessels actually die. She didn’t need to use her telepathic talents to realize the Humans and organic machines they used were connected and that on some level, the Masters mourned for the lost ship as much as it’s fellow vessels did.

            It was a surreal scene for her to behold and as swiftly as it had happened, it was all over again. As the ships disappeared into the skies, the Masters lowered their hands in near unison and their circle broke apart.

            “It is done,” Avatar spoke softly. “The vessel served us well and now it returns to the Allspark in the beyond. In death, it is at peace once more.”

            “Amen,” Militant agreed.

            The others were silent a moment and then Healer Prime stepped forward and suggested the Circle convene to discuss the enemy armada. The others seemed most anxious to do so as well, given the recent venture in to the void they had all undertaken, and agreed to do so immediately.

            Rapture watched as the others slowly departed for the Circle’s chambers while Avatar hung back, seeming to wait for something. Once the others were out of earshot, he turned back to face her and Sunfire.

            “Is she all right?” he asked of Sunfire.

            Rapture nodded and Sunfire smiled faintly, trying to remain strong.

            “I’m just exhausted from the stress of taking us into the void... I’ll need some time in my quarters to rest.”

            Avatar nodded and smiled.

            “Rapture, if thou wouldn’t mind, perhaps thou could make sure Sunfire makes it back to her room safely.”

            “No problem,” Rapture replied. “I’ll see to it she gets her rest safely.”

            She grasped Sunfire harder, securing her hold on the other and prepared to walk off. She realized Avatar still stood in his spot, unmoving. She paused.

            “As for me, I am now thoroughly convinced of the enemy’s existence and hostile nature,” Avatar continued, not seeming to realize she had been about to depart. “However, I am uncertain of what, if anything, the others are prepared to do to combat this new threat. I must go and present an argument in favor of taking action.”

            “You must convince them,” Sunfire whispered. “It is your only hope for survival...and ours.”

            “Good luck,” Rapture said, smiling at the Master.

            “Farewell for now,” he replied and left.

            As she watched him go, she could only hope Avatar could do what Sunfire suggested and get the Masters to agree to teaming up with the Transformers. Otherwise, they all could very well meet with a grisly ending at the hands of the alien fleet.

                                      *                                     *                                     *

            The Conquest dropped out of the cold embrace of Hyperspace, re-emerging back in space near a location all too familiar to Starscream of late.

            “All stations secure, Commander,” the helmsman reported in front of him. “We are ten thousand miles off the port side of target XMD-1179. Common designation–“

            ”Grand Central Space Station,” Starscream cut him off. “Yes, thank you, Electro Kill. I am very much familiar with this place.”

            He paused a moment, taking in the sheer size and beauty of the silent construct before them. As always, several dozen other vessels darted to and fro from the station, carrying about their daily commerce or using the place as a way stop on their way elsewhere.

            “With all due respect, my commander, why are we here?” Thunderfist, his new lieutenant’s voice echoed from beside his shoulder. “I thought our target was the command ship of Megatron himself.”

            “It is,” Starscream replied, trying not to sigh as he explained himself. “And we shall get to it in time. But first we need to test our might against a worthy target and see if we can survive to challenge Megatron.”

            He gestured to the space station beyond.

            “That, is our target. With it’s sheer size and formidable security, it should make an effective opponent for a test run. If this vessel is indeed as powerful as I was promised, then Grand Central Space Station should be nothing we can’t handle. Don’t you agree?”

            Thunderfist caught his optic and smiled maliciously. “Nothing is beyond what we can handle,” he stated proudly. “And if you require a test of our might to satisfy you, then we will gladly accommodate you.”

            Starscream had to admit that his new crew had confidence in their abilities and he was glad to be around such servants after having been accustomed to Gwen’s natural introversion; of course, he owned her utterly so her natural tendencies didn’t really affect the outcome of his plans. He looked down at the Human seated on the right armrest of his chair, sitting nearly immobile. Even now she was his, body and soul. He alone would decide whether she would live or die.

            He turned to the view screen. “Communications, give me a channel to the rest of the ship.”

            “Aye sir. You are online now,” his comm officer said–he couldn’t remember the Transformer’s name just off hand.

            “Attention warriors of the Conquest, this is your commander, Starscream. Today, I pit you against your first of many opponents.” Starscream beamed as he spoke the words. “You will either serve me well or die in the attempt. I want the target space station destroyed completely, no matter what it takes! Now go forth and bring destruction in your wake!”

            He wondered if that last part sounded a tad corny–and decided it did. But that was okay–Decepticon leaders from time immemorial were spouting such nonsense to motivate their soldiers and if anyone decided to take issue with him then he could always make sure it was the last issue they ever worried about.

            He watched as the first wave of his warriors launched themselves from the ship, aiming themselves at Grand Central Space Station and it’s doomed citizenry.

            Matt gave the alien the long bronze strips and thanked him again, hoping the translator unit he wore on his collar would properly translate the word for him–he’d experienced a couple of minor glitches as he’d asked the worker to refuel the vessels earlier.

            He waited a moment as the dock worker left, headed for the next vessel needing his attention and then walked over to one of the jets nearby.

            “I still don’t know why we bothered stopping here to refuel,” he said in a low tone. “I did some digging around and you’re right–actually, you almost understated the matter. They all seriously hate robotic life forms around here.”

            “They have their reasons...” Face replied over inter-Decepticon radio. “Automation has greatly reduced the need for workers in their mines and factories in several of the star systems and many of them harbor deep resentments toward our kind because of it.“

            Matt thought of the disaster that had rendered Earth devoid of any forms of automation. “Are their fears justified?” he asked.

            “I would say so,” Face replied. “However, they are angry at the tools that have replaced them–and pointlessly toward semi-sentient and fully sentient mechanical life forms. They should place the blame on industrial leaders and their own greed–the true source of so much lost labor in recent years.”

            Matt nodded and cast a glance around the dock making sure no one was observing them. The docking chamber they were in was quite large–it could easily support about fifteen more fighters or a mid-range vessel of some sort. He wasn’t certain what it had originally been created for, but the room now contained docking ramps for smaller ships like Talon and Face.

            Above them several flourescent lights illuminated the chamber brightly and hung freely from a arched ceiling beyond. On the far wall one large launch tunnel slightly above them supported his theory that this bay had once been designed to house a larger type of vessel. On the wall nearer the interior of the station were several miscellaneous metallic crates stacked neatly against the wall in various increments every few feet. A large foyer split that wall in the middle and on the other side of the open doorway a few more crates lined the wall while some sort of closed door–possibly an emergency exit–decorated the rest of the remaining barren wall.

            “As to why we are here, this station is approximately half way between the Dark Glory’s current position and the planet we seek–it is the most logical place to stop and refuel.”

            “Ah,” Matt replied as checked a panel out on Talon’s engine, making sure everything was functional.

            “I just wonder what, if anything, we’ll find when we get there,” he mumbled.

            He was worried about what Starscream would do with Gwen ultimately–especially if he did get what he wanted from Megatron’s mysterious alien benefactors. She would potentially be disposable to him and the thought did not sit well with Matt. And if Starscream failed to ally himself with the aliens, then what? He would most likely use her as his instrument to contact them and Matt suspected that if something had gone wrong on that end that she would have been the first to die.

            For that matter, they were taking a chance pursuing Starscream and assuming he had indeed pursued Megatron’s supporters. While the evidence seemed to support this course of action, he wondered if their prey hadn’t possibly anticipated the pursuit and mislead them intentionally.

            But that was just conjecture. After all, Face had figured out what Starscream was up to and he had an uncanny penchant for being right. He suspected that perhaps he was just concerned about Gwen and her well being more then anything else.

            He just hoped that Face’s cover story to the other Decepticons about he and Talon going out for some additional combat training proved to stand up to any scrutiny. After all, they would be gone for days on end and he wanted to make sure they’d be able to return to the Dark Glory without any problem.

            “Have patience,” he heard Face reply. “If any of my lessons stay with you it would be best for that one to remain.”

            As Matt was about to reply, the bay shook violently dumping him to the ground. The two jets managed to retain their position thanks to the magnetic locks in their docking pylons. Across the bay, two more small alien ships also remained safely anchored–Matt saw no sign of the dock worker now, however. He rose and before he could question what had occurred, a siren began to wail throughout the large bay.

             Matt scrambled for the access to the rest of the station and, casting a look about, aimed himself toward a running port worker. He grabbed the other and held him up with his enhanced strength.

            “What’s going on?!” he demanded.

            “We’re under attack,” the other gasped. “That’s all I know. Please...!”

            Matt sighed and dropped him. The alien wasted no time in clearing out of the corridor, apparently fearing what further injury Matt might cause him.

            Another explosion rocked the area, but this one was less violent and he suspected it was further away. He turned and headed back to Talon and Face. Whatever was going on, they needed to get out of here before they were destroyed as well. At the very least, they needed to know who was attacking and whether the opponent could do the vast station complex any serious damage. He hoped they couldn’t but his instincts told him otherwise.

                                      *                                     *                                     *

            Grid Iron placed the necklace of amethyst, platinum, obsidian and ruby around Sonimus Prime’s neck, symbolizing the ascension of new leader in the Autobot ranks. He stepped back and behind her allowing her to step forward to the alter and pour some of her own energon into it, allowing it to mix with the fuel of several of her brethren–a long held Autobot custom that symbolized she no longer lived just for herself, but for all of her followers instead.

            Originally, the Matrix of leadership had also been a part of the ceremony–indeed, the very heart of the ceremony. But it’s power had been depleted when they had unleashed it against Unicron years previous and so that part of the ceremony had been changed recently when Grid Iron had to figure out how to perform the ceremony on the first successor to Optimus Prime.

            Grid Iron stepped forward and placed a small laser scalpel into the mixture, igniting it and completing the ceremony with the flame that symbolized the eternal fire of their cause–the fight for justice and fairness in the universe. It was a symbol that was needed now more then ever, in the wake of the recent loss of Hot Rod and the other dissidents.

            Sonimus didn’t seem to understand Hot Rod’s sacrilege to their morals and cause, but

he did. Hot Rod and those others were frustrated about all that had happened to them and couldn’t stand to take it any more. He didn’t agree with the sentiment as such, but he did understand it... the dissidents were still fighting the war–just in the only way they knew how. They didn’t see the wisdom in supporting the Autobot ideals any longer. And after that had happened, he couldn’t blame them.

            Grid Iron just hoped they’d come around to their senses in time, realize that their youthful rashness was guiding their actions and not proper logic. He hoped this, but even as he did he knew it wasn’t too likely to come to pass... He could only pray they didn’t anger the Decepticons so much that they came back to Oberon with the intent to finish off the job once and for all.

            He watched as Sonimus Prime stepped up to the front of the podium once again to give a speech to the assembled mass of the Autobots before her. Looking at the number of his brothers in the audience, he imagined not one of them had opted to pass this ceremony up in favor of some other activity or assignment. All of them were doubtlessly worried about the future and wanted to see what, if anything, Sonimus was going to say about their immediate plans. After all, not all of them had been there when she had given her speech days earlier and had heard her determination to return to take the fight back to the Decepticons and do it in a honorable fashion like Optimus would have wanted.

            “My fellow Autobots,” she began. “I thank you for your vote of confidence in me. And let me assure you all that your faith will not be in vain. Today, the Great War starts anew... we shall fight back against the Decepticon tyranny! Their cruelty–both against our own Autobot brothers as well as the Humans and every other innocent they have attacked--cannot go unpunished. But we shall fight this war honorably–as Optimus Prime and all of our previous leaders did. We will not abandon our principles as some of our kind recently did. Without our own inherent sense of justice, what better are we then those we seek to fight? We must stay true to our honor–we must fight justly and protect those who are too weak to defend themselves. Then, and only then, shall we shall emerge triumphant!”

            A split second of silence erupted into blaring applause and Grid Iron found himself beaming. Sonimus knew exactly what to say--he had to admit even he felt excited by her words. The Autobot code of ethics were the heart of their faction and any leader who would be able to serve it’s followers properly needed to understand this truth. For being so young, Sonimus seemed to know what was important to know as leader and this fact in itself was heartening to him.

            Perhaps there was hope for future, after all. Hope, after everything they seemed to value had wavered and fallen to the brutal onslaught of reality. Hope that everything that was truly important could be put right again and those things that had been defiled by war could be reclaimed as their own. Hope, Grid Iron thought, that the tattered fragments of their lives could be regained and made whole once again.

            And so it begins... He smiled at that thought. Yes, the Great War began anew and this time the Autobots wouldn’t go down without a fight.