Chapter 24 : From Defeat, Victory!
“Soundwave!” Battletrap shouted, drawing his commander’s attention. “We’ve got unidentified vessels entering normal space. Early telemetry suggests one dreadnought, eight destroyers, and four more unidentified vessels.” Vaulting out of his seat, Soundwave raced over to stand behind Battletrap, looking over his shoulder.
“It would appear that the Terrans have received reinforcements.” He muttered to himself. “How soon could the rest of the fleet reach us?” he asked Battletrap. The Duocon took a few moments to respond, punching up the required information. The news, however, wasn’t good.
“The other elements of our fleet could arrive here, at maximum, in six hours. However, the computer estimates that we could last against their combined firepower for only two hours, at most.” In his head, Soundwave ran through his options, and was disappointed by how few there were. He could stand here and destroy the Terran battlecruiser, but that would take too much time and the reinforcements would be on him. His only other option was to withdraw his forces and wait for a better chance. Regretfully, he would have to choose the later.
“Astrotrain, we are withdrawing. Battletrap, signal the other ships. Inform them that we are withdrawing to the spacedock.” With a lurch, he felt the ship rotate beneath him, the massive engine banks turning her 180o. With a few quick commands from Astrotrain, the Gladiator accelerated away.
“Greetings, Commodore.” The captain of the dreadnought Hyperion was a slim man, in his early twenties. His features were basic North American, with short black hair and blue eyes. “I am glad to see that…”
“There is no time for that, Captain.” Ross said, cutting the man off. “I need you to signal the troop transports and have them dispatch their marines to the Terran encampment on the planet.” Though the man was startled, Ross was glad to see that he reacted quickly. Turning off camera, he dispatched Ross’ orders to his men, then turned back to the Commodore.
“The marines are on their way, sir,” he said, “But it looks like you are in need of assistance.”
“Indeed I am.” Ross replied, wiping at his forehead. He was surprised to find a thin stream of blood there. He must have hit his head without noticing it, he thought. Still, looking around his smashed bridge, he realized he was lucky to be alive. Aside from himself, Lieutenant Smith and Ensign Harkness, few of the bridge crew had survived. The port wall had collapsed, crushing a dozen of his techs, and a power coupling in the aft wall had exploded, taking out another half dozen.
Reaching out, Ross touched a key, activating the ship-wide intercom. “All hands,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady, “we are evacuating the Saratoga immediately. Report to the boat bays for transfer.” Smith looked up at him, shocked, but Ross could only nod and gesture for him to get on his way.
Once everyone had left the bridge, Ross had one final duty. Walking slowly, he stepped over to the bulkhead beside his office. On it, still glimmering in the low light of emergency power, was the ship’s dedication plaque. Reaching out, the Commodore pulled it free and tucked it under his arm before walking to the turbolift at the back of the bridge. He stepped in and turned around, staring out at the smashed ruins of his ship one last time, before the lift descended.
“Their defenses are smashed!” Motormaster bellowed, “Destroy them!” Though his forces had taken hideously high casualties relative to the defenders, it seemed that they had beaten the Autobots and Terrans at last. With a roar of triumph, the remaining Decepticon forces rushed forward, smashing aside the shattered remains of defenses and Terran armor.
“Stand firm, men!” Colonel McQueen shouted. He had emerged from his MCU in full battle armor, leading the rest of the headquarters’ staff to reinforce his marines. Right now, the Terrans were standing back to back in a tight knot, firing furiously at any Decepticon that entered their range.
“Let’s bust Decepti-chops!” Ironhide bellowed, emerging from his command bunker. His weapon fired, discharging a stream of super-corrosive acid that ate through one unlucky Decepticon’s chest. Behind him came the rest of his personal staff, fighting their way through the Decepticons standing between them and the other Autobots. Reaching them at last, Ironhide found himself standing next to Dogfight.
“Is this fun, or what?” he shouted, straining to make himself heard over the din of the battle. Dogfight didn’t have the time to look at him, but he shouted back, “you’re nuts, boss!” Beside him, Dogfight saw Backstreet go down, his chest a smoking ruin. He cursed the Decepticons, but had no time to grieve now. The Decepticons were making their big play, and if the Autobots weren’t careful, they’d get shoved right off the board.
Unfortunately for them, there was no way that they could be prepare themselves for what came next. Against all predictions, Motormaster signaled for the Stunticons to converge on his position. The Autobots and Terrans could only watch as they combined to form Menasor, minus his right arm. That had been Dead End, and Menasor was now forced to fight left handed.
“They can form up with a member missing?” Cable shouted, shocked by what he had seen. “Apparently.” Chamber yelled back. With huge, earth-shaking steps, Menasor lumbered into the battle, crushing Transformers under his feet whenever he put them down. “It was good knowing you, Cable.” Chamber said, as Menasor neared the last small knots of resistance. With a wicked smile on his face, the massive gestalt reared back, preparing to crush the Autobots beneath his huge feet.
But that foot never came down. Screaming down out of the upper atmosphere, a dozen Terran dropships raced towards the fighting, their laser cannons clearing a path for them. Several of them targeted Menasor, staggering him in his attempt to finish off his enemies. Bellowing in pain, Menasor tried to return fire, but his left arm had never been configured for weapons fire, and his aim was way off. At last, he knew that there was no other choice.
“Decepticons,” he bellowed, “withdraw!” For a moment, nobody moved, shocked by what had just happened. Then, as though a switch had been thrown, the Decepticons rushed out of shattered outpost, the Autobots and Terrans too tired and too low on ammo to pursue. They could only wait, as the Terran ships landed outside what was left of the fort, and marines rushed out of the ships.
“We did it!” Ironhide shouted, overjoyed that the Decepticons had been sent running. Others, however, were more subdued, reminded of the comrades and friends that they had lost in the fight. All around the survivors, shattered armor and mechfluid mingled with blood and spent shells, reminding those left that this victory had been bought with a terrible price.
“Sir!” Prowl shouted, startling Optimus. He had been studying the movements of Decepticon troops along the border, trying to think of where to place his own men. Looking up, he saw that Prowl was waving for him to come over. Slowly, the Autobot supreme commander walked over, dreading what news Prowl would deliver. He had been assigned to watch the battle at the outpost, and Optimus knew that there was no way the troops there could have withstood such an overwhelming forrce.
“Yes Prowl?” he asked, standing behind his security commander and reading over his shoulder. When he saw what the readouts said, however, he gasped. “The Terrans!” he said, chiding himself for having forgotten them. On the display, he could see the dropship icons forcing the Decepticons from the outpost, and then wave after wave of Terran marine disgorged from the vessels.
“Thank the Matrix.” Optimus muttered under his breath, as he watched the Decepticons retreat further and further back.
“We may have been defeated this time,” Motormaster broadcast to his troops, “but our enemies were lucky. Next time, there will be no last-minute reinforcements. Next time, we will destroy them!” In his head, he tried to concentrate on plans and deployments, but all he could see was those blasted Terran dropships, arriving at the last moment and robbing him of his victory. “Drag Strip?” His Stunticon scout raced forwarded, falling into line beside him. “Return to Viridia ahead of us. Inform Hook and Snaptrap that Terran reinforcements have arrived, and that they are to prepare their forces. We will strike back at the Autbots quickly.” Signaling his assent, Drag Strip raced off, heading back to Viridia.
“So, Motormaster was defeated?” Soundwave asked. Beside him, Snaptrap was looking out at the Nemesis. Both of them were on the spacedock, Soundwave having just returned.
“Indeed. It seems that those unidentified vessels of the Terrans were trop transports. Reports are that a dozen of them landed on Cybertron, the troops inside and the heavy weapons outside proving to be too much for Motormaster.” Snaptrap paused, considering just how much he should really tell Soundwave. In the end, he decided that nothing was vital enough to warrant risking Soundwave’s wrath. “He has also signaled for myself and Hook to prepare our troops for war. It would appear that he has declared another war on the Autobots.”
“Hm.” Soundwave muttered, rubbing his chin. “What do you wish me to respond with, Soundwave?” Snaptrap asked. He had purposefully neglected to refer to him as any sort of superior, in order to reinforce the idea that he was equal to Soundwave. Though he would take whatever Soundwave said under advisement, he felt no need to abide by it.
“It does not matter at this moment. For appearances sake, at least, you should return to Cybertron and lead your men. Be wary, however.” Soundwave replied at last. Though he knew that Snaptrap would ultimately keep his own counsel, he also knew that this was what Snaptrap had been thinking. And for now, what he had said was the truth. Snaptrap gave Soundwave a quick salute, before turning and walking to his waiting shuttle.
Soundwave waited at the window for a little while longer. Planning for the future.
