“Fellow Decepticons,” Motormaster began, addressing the tri-d camera in front of him.  “Last night, my security forces, acting on information retrieved from decoded communications, captured an Autobot spy living in Polyhex.”  The camera zoomed out, and the audience could now see Punch, bound to the wall with electro-cords.

  “This bot has been identified both as a Decepticon merchant named Counter-Punch, and an Autobot soldier named Punch.  Such an intrusion into our space is obviously an act of aggression on the part of the Autobot Council.  And as Decepticons, we cannot tolerate such an invasion of our territory.”  Motormaster paused, letting the crowds watching him get into the proper state of indignation.

      “However, we are not war mongers.  We will not seek to initiate conflict with the Autobots.  Provided,” and here he paused for a moment, “provided that they make a formal apology for interfering in our sovereign business.”  While it sounded perfectly reasonable, he knew that the Autobots would never stand for it.  Especially after what he had to say next.

      “This bot, on the other hand, is a spy and a suspected terrorist.”  That last was false, but none of the Decepticons knew that, and the Autobots protestations would fall on deaf ears.  “And as such, he must receive a suitable punishment.  In three days, he will be executed in the centre of Polyhex, for crimes against the Decepticon Empire.”  He paused again, taking a deep breath, before he continued.

      “We must stand strong, my fellow Decepticons, and not let ourselves be intimidated by the Autobots.  In the coming time, you will be asked to work harder than you are accustomed to, but remember that this will be for the good of the Empire.  Hail, Decepticons.” he finished, and across Cybertron, an excited babble broke out.

      “I knew that I should have off-lined that fool when I had the chance.” Soundwave muttered, high above the planet.  He was seated in his office on the spacedock, and had just witnessed Motormaster’s broadcast.  It was, he thought, the stupidest thing he had ever seen.

      “Can you deal with this?” the voice asked.  Still cloaked in shadows, lest someone arrive unannounced in the office.  After all, that would ruin the surprise.

      “I do not think so.” Soundwave replied.  “The Autobots will not be able to refrain from responding to this.  The capture of an Autobot, based upon apparently specious logic, will not go unanswered.  There will be war.”

      “Than it is good that our forces are so close to being ready.” the shade-wreathed entity said.  “You will, of course, have to increase production, but that should not be a problem.  Now, what of the rest of that idiotic council?”

      “It seems likely that Hook, at least, will follow Motormaster, should he try and take a larger role.  Snaptrap seems intelligent enough to realise his limits, and he is the one that I would most trust.  Not that I trust any of them.”  He turned back to the computer, pulling up an external camera view.  In the weak light of Cybertron’s distant sun, the hulls of the three original Decepticon warships gleamed.  Fully repaired and restocked, they were the majority of the Decepticon Space Fleet.  Along with them, of course, the DSF possessed several smaller strike cruisers, five squadrons of fighter craft and about a dozen orbital weapon platforms.

     Within the ribs of the spacedock, Soundwave could just see the edge of another hull.  Swinging the camera around, he revealed the full extent of what was being built.  In the dock, he could make out the two battlecruisers, the Gladiator and.the Assail, both of which were almost finished now.  There were also several smaller craft being built, fighters and tugs and yet more manufacturing drones.  But dwarfing them all, of course, was Soundwave’s greatest creation: the Nemesis.  Named after that great Decepticon warship, it was to be the flagship of his new fleet.  And it, too, was almost completed.

      “Construction nears completion on the vessels currently within the spacedock.  Estimates are that within another week, two at the most, Gladiator, Assail and Nemesis will be ready for a shakedown.  We can then proceed with further construction, should the situation warrant it.”  Turning off the camera, he called up a status report.  “Our forces are now up to approximately sixty three percent combat ready, with most of those positioned in the area between our territory and the Autobot’s.  Three full squadrons are also deployed along the Terran corridor, in case the fleshlings decide to try something.”

      “Excellent, Soundwave.  You are as efficient as ever.” the speaker intoned.  “Now, what will you do with this Punch fellow?  Though he is to be executed, he must be imprisoned in the meantime.”

      “Indeed.  I have decided that the penal facility in Viridia will do.  He is to be housed for only three days, after all.” Soundwave responded.  Getting to his feet, he stepped out from behind his desk.  “Now, if you will excuse me, there are things which I must attend to in person.  I will return shortly.”  When his guest didn’t respond, he turned and hurried out.  It would not do to appear too at ease to his subordinates.  They might get the idea that he was open to speak with them, something he most certainly did not wish to do.

      With a few easy commands, the door locked, and the Decepticon slid into the seat Soundwave had so recently vacated.  He called up similar files; battle predictions, combat preperations, etc.  Scanning through it quickly, he absorbed it all, letting no detail elude him.

      In her quarters in Cybertropolis, Kestral sat, the tri-d on in the background.  Her attention, however, was reserved for the data pad in front of her.  Blastech had recently been doing some calculations on energy consumption versus energon stores, and had come up with some rather worrying data.  Assuming that the population continued to grow at the rate it had, which was by no means a large rate, Cybertronian energon stores would be dangerously low within the next three hundred years.  And while Terrans may not have to worry personally about such a large time scale, Transformers could easily live for thousands of years.  Which meant that those created in the peace and prosperity of the second Golden Age might still live to face the terror of energon shortages.  A sobering thought.

      She was distracted, however, by a tone from her comm.  Placing the pad on her desk, she turned to her comm unit and pressed the receive command.  She was almost instantly glad that she had.

      “Did ya miss me?” Kobal asked.  He looked out from the small screen in her wall, the interior of a military communications building in the background.

      “What would I miss?” she asked playfully.

      “Well, maybe I’ll just stay out here then.  At least they appreciate me here.” he responded, pretending to be hurt.  It was, of course, an act.  A little game that the two of them played, something that they shared.  “Anyway, what have you been up to?” he asked.

     “Oh, nothing much.  Blastech’s got me working on some experimental data, Transformer energon consumption extension, that sort of thing.  Basically, the same kind of thing the micromasters were designed for.  Of course, that’s not what we’re trying for here, but the principle’s pretty similar.”  Mentally, she pulled herself short.  She could easily go on all day, getting into more and more technical terms, boring Kobal to tears.  “Anyway, what are you doing out there?  What great battles have you won, mighty warrior?”

      Kobal sighed before answering. “This is quite possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.  About the only thing that makes it palpable are these two bots I met.  Dogfight and Chamber; they’re good guys, and a lot of fun.”  Looking around quickly, he continued, his voice a little lower.  “Of course, neither of them are close to being as nice to be around as you.”

      “I should hope not.” Kestral replied. “So, any idea when you’re getting out of there?” she inquired.

      “In a while.  A week, maybe two, depends on when those Terran ships get here.  Won’t be too soon for my tastes.  I can’t wait to get back to Cybertropolis, take a nice rest in my Transformer sized quarters, spend a little time with a certain fembot.”  One of his optic sensors flickered, the Transformer equivalent of a human wink.

      “I’m waiting.” she replied.  Before she could say anymore, Kobal was distracted by someone outside of the camera range.

      “Look, I’ve gotta go.  Someone else wants to use this.  Talk to you later.” he finished, rather lamely he thought, before shutting down the comm.  Kestral smiled at the blank screen for a few seconds, before turning back to the data pad.  Too late, of course, she remembered the transmission from earlier.  She had wanted to ask what Kobal thought of it, and maybe what the other bots out there thought too.  Oh well, she thought to herself, there’s always the next time.

      At the Terran/Autobot encampment, Kobal signed off and stepped out of the makeshift comm building, out into the sunlight.  From his left, he could hear Dogfight calling to him.  Turning, he hurried over, spotting Chamber and a few other bots standing there.

      “What’s up?” he asked, coming to a stop in front of the others.  Dogfight looked around before answering, making sure there were no other Transformers in the area.

      “Look, you saw that broadcast earlier, right?” Dogfight asked.  Kobal nodded in response, and he continued.  “Everybody knows that’s bull, what Motormaster said.  Punch may have been observing the ‘Cons, but a terrorist?  Never.  Thing is, the diplomats’ll take weeks, months even, to get him out.  And he doesn’t have weeks.”  The group crowded around, making sure that there was no way anyone could overhear them.  Whatever was happening here, Kobal was pretty sure that it wasn’t on the up and up.

      “Ironhide would never say this on record, but he’s given us permission to go in and get Punch.  We don’t have much time, and only the bots here, but we’re going to do our best.  What I want to know is, will you be with us?” Dogfight finished.  The others looked at him, curious as to what he would say.  Some were Autobot veterans, like Jazz and Warpath, but others he’d never seen before.

      Without thinking, Kobal responded.  “You know it, Dogfight.  When do we leave?”

      “Tomorrow morning, oh six hundred.  Be armed and ready to go.” he said, and the others faded away, leaving him standing by himself.  It was only then that he considered all the terrible things that this mission could bring.  Whether he made it back safely, died or was captured, Kestral was never going to forgive him.  And that thought alone was almost enough to make him change his mind.  But he was young, hot-headed and impetuous.  And my would that cost him.