On the bridge of the battleship Saratoga, Commodore Ross stood, and watched.  He watched the main viewscreen, as it displayed the planet Cybertron spinning below them.  That metal world was the home both the greatest friends and worst enemies of his people.  He watched as the lieutenants and ensigns rushed around, relaying orders and updating now incorrect data.  The bridge of a warship was always busy, but nothing besides the bridge of a command ship.  And with the unfortunate destruction of the Copernicus and the Icarus, both of whose commanders had outranked Ross, command of the now shrunken squadron had fallen to him.

     “Sir, we have a direct link-up to the Terran Senate.”  Turning, Ross was startled to find that there was a young com-tech standing behind him.

     “Thank you, ensign.” Ross said, covering up both that he had been startled, and that he hadn’t known the boy’s name.  Both ships had suffered substantial losses in the Decepticon engagement, and it was not surprising to find that there were people on the bridge that Ross had never seen before, people who had received a battlefield promotion to take over from their deceased comrades.

     Settling into his command chair, Ross settled the small audio/video link over his ear, with the screen over his eyes.  With the tiny screen now so close, the video looked as though it had expanded, and now took up most of his vision.  Off to the side, he could still see somewhat, but almost everything else was obscured.

     “Patching it through, Commodore.” the young tech said from behind him.  Suddenly, the blank square was replaced by an image of High Commander Ryoji.  Hailing from the Asian Alliance, High Commander Ryoji was the man in charge of all Terran military forces.  As such, his power was, at least theoretically, second to none.  In truth, however, he found himself almost constantly going up against the budgetary committee, and being forced to justify any expense that his department incurred.  Around the Terran Command Centre, it was a long running joke that Ryoji would love to bomb the budgetary committee, but they’d never pay for the ordinance.

     “Good evening Colonel.” Ryoji said.  Before Ross could respond, Ryoji corrected himself however.  “Although I suppose that should be good morning.  I forgot about the time difference.  So, how are your forces, Commodore?”

     “On-planet, I have a little over one thousand marines, as well as several combat walkers and a mobile command unit.  In orbit of the planet, I have my ship the Saratoga, and the battlecruiser Ganges.  Combined firepower amounts to a little under one dreadnought.”  Morrow paused, thinking carefully about what to say next.

     “Sir, I feel the need to inform you that there are three Decepticon battlecruisers orbiting Cybertron right now.  Engaging them would be suicide, and would leave the Marines on-planet with no way to evacuate should it become necessary.  I feel it is my duty to inform you that, without support, this task force will not survive an engagement with Decepticon forces.”  Unconsciously, Commodore Ross tensed on the bridge of his battlecruiser, worried about the reactions of a man hundreds of light years away.  It was silly, but Ryoji had a certain reputation within the military as someone who absolutely did not tolerate dissension in the ranks.

     To his surprise, the High Commander merely smiled at him.  “I am glad to see that you are brave, Commodore.  I’m sure you have heard of my reputation?  And yet, you risked being demoted or discharged for the safety of your troops.  Very good.”  Steepling his hands before his face, Ryoji leaned forwards.  “How would you react if I informed you that I have dispatched reinforcements?” he asked.  Immediately, the High Commander could tell that Ross was pleased to hear that his military had not deserted him.  “Indeed.  As of ten minutes ago, a squadron of Cobra class destroyers were dispatched to your position, along with a quartet of troop transports.  And, I am promoting you to Admiral, and commander of the Cybertronian theatre.  As befits a commander of your status, I am dispatching a Dreadnought to rendezvous with your group and reinforce you.  Once it arrives, you will transfer your command staff to it, and command your group from there.”

     “Sir, there is still the distinct possibility that Decepticon military units could engage our forces before the reinforcements arrive.  Do you have any further advice which you would wish to render?” Ross asked.  His initial trepidation at speaking with the infamous Ryoji has dwindled upon learning that the master tactician is actually human after all.

     “As a matter of fact, I do.  I would suggest you remind the Autobots of section 35, paragraph 12 of the Cybertronian/Terran Treaty.” Ryoji responded.

     “All right, so that’s two out of three.” Swoop said.  The Dinobots were looking through the window at the three medical beds, two of which now contained conscious occupants.  Kestral of course had woken up a while ago, but now Kobal was awake again as well.  The male Autobot had come around only a few minutes ago, and the Dinobots had watched as he came around.  Kestral had been sitting next to him again, holding onto his hand with hers, when his optics had slowly begun to glow.  With a grunt, he had finally come back fully, and Kestral had clasped his head to her chest.  After a moment, she let him go, and his head dropped back to the bed.  From the window, the Dinobots were unable to hear what was being said, but it was obvious that when First Aid got in there, it was strictly business.  He grilled both of them on how they felt, checked on a dozen different monitors, and finally left.

     “I will say this only once,” he said, as he stepped out of the room.  “Do no go in there.  Do we understand each other?”  The Dinobots nodded, and watched as he stomped off towards some other unlucky soul.

     “Man,” Swoop muttered, once First Aid was out of earshot.  “That guy is way too uptight.”

     “So?” Kestral asked, once First Aid had left the room.

     “So what?” Kobal replied.  He had a killer headache, and his arm was still inoperative below the elbow, so he wasn’t really in the mood for guessing games.

     “So, what happened last night?  After I got knocked out, I mean.”  Though she wasn’t really big on fights, she was curious as to what had happened around her.

     “I don’t really remember.” Kobal said with a sigh.  “We hit each other for a while, then we both went down.  There's not much more to it than that.”  Rubbing his head with his still-functional hand, he tried to think.  “Do you know if anyone has alerted the PF that I’m here?”

     “Yeah.  One of the other Dinobots called them.  Blastech too.” Kestral responded.  “Looks like we’ve got the day off.”  Smiling, she picked up his hand again, the one that actually worked.  “Not exactly the vacation I was hoping for, but as the Terrans say, never look a gift Norse in the mouth.”

     “That’s horse.” Kobal responded.  “Never look a gift horse in the mouth.  Though why you would want to look any animal, gift or otherwise, in the mouth is beyond me.”  The Terrans, he had decided long ago, were an odd species.  Though their forms were fragile and their lives short, they could often possess incredible bravery.  But their sayings still didn’t make a lot of sense to him.

     “Whatever.” Kestral said, dismissing the mistake.  “So, how badly do you feel?”

     “Let me put it this way; it would be a step up to drop into stasis lock.”  An exaggeration, to be sure, but not by that much.  “I can’t move my right lower arm, my head hurts, my chest hurts, my back hurts, and my left optic is a little fuzzy.” he responded at last, checking himself out to be sure there weren’t any other problems he had let slip by.  There weren’t any; though whether that was good because he didn’t have any deceptively minor-looking injuries, or bad because all the damage he had taken was bad enough to register easily, he didn’t know.  “How about you?  Are you alright?” he asked Kestral at last.

     “A slight headache, but other than that I’m alright.” Kestral replied.  “Thanks to you, my knight in shining armour.” she said, with a smile.  It was a little joke between the two of them; he was so concerned with preserving order, that he had become, to her, a veritable knight from Terran legends.

     Kobal snorted.  “Well, it’s not like you were a damsel in distress.  You managed to land some good shots on that dumb drunk.”

     “Grimlock may have been drunk,” a voice said from behind them, “but me not dumb.”  Looking over in surprise, Kobal saw for the first time who he and Kestral were sharing this room with.  The Dinobot commander hadn’t moved, and in fact, aside from that one sentence, there was no indication that he was even awake.

     “That,” Kobal said slowly, after a moment, “was really weird.”  Kestral could only nod in agreement.

     High above Cybertron, Soundwave sat, looking out as the planet he had always called home revolved below him.  At this moment, he knew that he was roughly above Polyhex, where the other three Council members were right now.  Small-minded fools, he thought tom himself.  They would never know true power.  Not like he would.

     Turning his attention to the ‘interior’ of his new command post, he looked out on the construction status.  After the first skirmish with Terran forces, he had ordered the creation of warships, fighters, orbital weapons platforms and ship ordinance.  Decepticon forces, both drones and sentient workers, were working double and triple shifts to keep up with the demands of their scheduling.  Still, Soundwave was impressed at just how well they were doing, and his faith in the might of the Decepticon Empire was again restored.

     “Rumble, eject.” Soundwave said, watching as the humanoid tape popped out of his chest.  He stood before Soundwave, at attention.  He had grown since the old days, more mature and composed.  Of course, the death of his brother Frenzy had changed him as well.

     “Yes, Soundwave?” the minute Transformer asked.

     “Find me the Air Commander, and order him to report here at once.  I would speak with
him.”  Immediately, Rumble rushed off to obey his commander’s orders.  Soundwave turned and settled into a chair behind the desk, and proceeded to run through the updates.  The trio of ships left from the Terran engagement had been repaired and were now fully functional.  Two new battlecruisers were more than fifty percent completed, and three others were at about the one quarter completed.  Three squadrons of attack craft were already loaded in, and there were several orbital weapons platforms already orbiting the Decepticon hemisphere.  Plans were proceeding even better than he had hoped, and the safety of the Decepticon Empire seemed assured.  At least for now.

    “What do you want, Soundwave?”  A high pitched voice from behind him announced the arrival of Air Commander Starscream.  The treacherous Decepticon was enraged that he had not been appointed as part of the Council, but knew better than to move so openly.  After his treasonous attack on Megatron and taking control of the Warworld during the close of the 2nd Generation Decepticon war, he was lucky not to have been placed under arrest.

     “How good to see you again, Starscream.” Soundwave lied.  Actually, he was quite unhappy to be around him, but it was a necessity right now.  “I have a special assignment for you.  While I remain on this station, you are to report to the Council and represent me in my absence.”  A seemingly dangerous idea, but Soundwave knew that Starscream could be counted on to represent his own best interests, and Soundwave had conspired with Snaptrap to insure that their best interests coincided.  That Seacon was smarter than he looked, it seemed.  Whether that was safe or not remained to be seen.

     “And what is in that for me, or mighty leader?” Starscream asked, his voice grating on Soundwave’s sensitive audio receptors.

     “I will not have you imprisoned for treason, or shot where you stand.” Soundwave replied matter-of-factly.  Starscream flinched, cursing himself for showing even that minor amount of trepidation.

     “Well, when you put it that way.” Starscream said, a slight waver in his voice now.  Never before had his commander responded with such outright brutality, and this reminder of his own vulnerability was not something he enjoyed.  “I will depart immediately, sir.” Starscream said in a neutral tone.  Snapping off a salute of military precision, he hurried out of the room.

     “He cannot be trusted.” Soundwave said once Starscream was gone.  There was no malice in the statement; it was simply the truth.  Starscream’s notoriety as a traitor and a schemer was well deserved.

     “Of course not.” a voice replied.  Cloaked in the shadows, he had been here the entire time, watching.  “If, that is, he is allowed to think for himself.  Once you can manipulate him to your own ends, however, his single-minded devotion to his petty schemes can easily be turned to your advantage.  He is a tool, like any other.  Albeit a dangerous one.”

     “I still do not think that it was wise to involve him so early, when there are so many variables still unknown.” Soundwave said without turning back.  “But, now that it has happened, can you manage him sufficiently?  Or will I have to prepare for his elimination?”

     “Have faith, Soundwave.  The Air Commander dances to my tune.  There will be no problems from him.  Now, perhaps you should turn your lofty sights to the Terran forces that dwell within our borders.”  Pressing a few keys, he brings up an enhanced satellite image of the Terran encampment.  It is obvious that they are well dug in, with defensive positions already established.  From the picture, however, it was impossible to get a good understanding what their plans were.

     “Well then, what do you propose?” Soundwave asked.  The only response was a chuckle from the recesses of the room, which slowly spread out, until the entire station seemed to echo with that terrible laughter.