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        Rodimus gazed at the battle before him. Streaks of a dozen different colors of light arced across the battlefield, over the prone bodies of both Autobots and Decepticons. Many of those Decepticons he had taken down himself, even with a weapon that wasn’t as powerful as that of the beloved Optimus Prime. He could more than hold his own in this battle. He just didn’t know about the rest of the Autobots—Galvatron had brought his entire army to Iacon, to attack the Autobots swiftly and mercilessly. The Autobots’ forces, on the other hand, were spread between Earth and Cybertron, leaving both weaker against a consolidated assault such as this. He would have had Jazz call for backup from Earth, now that he’d seen that all the Decepticons were here on Cybertron, but the advanced communications equipment—and quite possibly Jazz himself—had been destroyed when the freighter had crashed into the Iacon base.

        But there was nothing he could do about that now, and there were more important concerns. The Decepticons outnumbered the Autobots quite badly, and had attacked while one-third the Autobot space fleet was at Darios IX, preparing to hunt down the Decepticons. Galvatron couldn’t have picked a better time to attack.

        Rodimus watched as the Aerialbots transformed into Superion and attacked, and started to run toward the front lines of the battle, which the Autobots had actually managed to push away from Iacon through skillful use of the buildings and alleyways of Cybertron. By adding his own significant firepower and tactical expertise to the fray, he could very well lead the Autobots to victory before reinforcements ever arrived. If they ever arrived.

        But, no, he knew he shouldn’t think about such things. While it seemed to him that the battle had already been going on for several hours, his internal chronometer registered that only 40 minutes had passed since Iacon had lost contact with Moon Base One, and it would take at least another half an hour before the fleet at Darios XI could arrive. He hoped that they wouldn’t arrive to see the burnt-out husks of their Autobot comrades, and a Cybertron returned to Decepticon control.

        As he made his way through the twisted wreckage of the field of battle, the thought of how the Autobots had only recently restored the area to its pre-war beauty passing briefly through his mind, keeping a careful watch for Galvatron in the skies overhead. He was nervous about being fired on unawares after hearing Galvatron’s challenge, and was even more worried that he would give away one of his troops’ bunker-positions and leave them open to attack.

        An explosion through up dust and debris a dozen meters to his right. He turned, raising his gun to fire on whoever was attacking him, when he saw Arcee running from a group of three Sweeps. She was half-turned, firing on them as she ran, but Rodimus saw she was outgunned and his old instincts kicked in immediately. He ran toward her and grabbed her, pushing her to the ground and rolling with her out of the Decepticons’ line of fire. The Sweeps continued on overhead and started to turn around.

        "Good thing I was here to save you," Rodimus said from on top of her.

        "Thanks, Rodimus," She said, pushing him off.

        They both stood and looked at the approaching Sweeps. As the Sweeps began a strafing run, Rodimus and Arcee stood back to back, presenting the smaller target of their sides to the Sweeps, and fired back. The undercarriages of two of the Sweeps exploded, and they began rapidly losing altitude as black smoke streamed from them. The lead Sweep flew past overhead, and the two Autobots continued firing at it, separating from each other.

        "So, where’s Springer?" Rodimus asked, almost casually, as they shot at the retreating Decepticon.

        Arcee looked at him, saw nothing in his face but the intensity of the fight. She wondered, briefly, why he would ask about Springer and not his second-in-command, Ultra Magnus. Could it be he was asking something deeper, something about their relationship? Seeing his face, though, she dismissed the idea—he probably wanted Springer for some particularly difficult attack, or asked her because he knew they were still close friends.

        "He’s with Ultra Magnus. They’re in the Hedron Ravine trying to rout the Decepticons there. Magnus ordered me to try and lure other Decepticons there—I was on my way with a few of the Stunticons when the Sweeps attacked me." Her shots finally connected with the fleeing Sweep, and she saw him fall behind some distant buildings and disappear.

        Rodimus nodded. "Smart. I just hope Magnus has enough Autobots there to make a crossfire work. Come on, let’s get to one of the forward stations." He motioned in the direction of a cluster of Decepticons and Autobots. He then transformed and started driving there. Arcee followed suit.

        "So, Springer let you volunteer for decoy duty while he stayed behind to shoot Decepticons?" Rodimus asked, semi-casually. His tone was just wrong enough, though, that this time Arcee could tell Rodimus was pushing for a way to criticize Springer. He knew, then, about their relationship.

        "He had stronger firepower, able to cut down Decepticons faster. And I’m faster, better able to avoid their shots. It was a tactical decision, and it was a good one. I’m not the little girl-bot in need of constant protection that Optimus Prime thought I was." Arcee defended Springer and herself without mentioning what she knew Rodimus was getting at. If he wanted to be jealous, she was going to make him to all the work of it.

        "Tactical decisions aren’t always the right ones," Rodimus murmured. "He shouldn’t have let you go off alone. His greater firepower could have helped protect you both on the run to the trap."

        They were approaching the cluster now, and Arcee was suddenly tired of dancing around the issue. "Rodimus, look—either say what you mean or drop it, all right?"

        Rodimus transformed, his gun coming into his hand easily in the change, and began firing at the Decepticons flanking his Autobot comrades. Several fell in the first volley, leaving the ranks even enough so that the Autobots actually had a fighting chance on their own. Arcee transformed, as well, and fired at the fallen triple-changer Octane, who was raising his weapon to fire on Grapple’s unguarded back. Octane’s gun went flying, and a second shot knocked him unconscious.

        "What I’m saying is that I don’t know why you’re with him now. That’s all." Rodimus said as he shot at an incoming Sweep. "We used to have something, you and I."

        "But I’m just me, now." Rodimus swung his rifle around, blew a hole through Ramjet from his undercarriage through his cockpit, transformed, and drove off to the next cluster of Autobots.

        Arcee reached out, started to say something to him, to make him hurt less than he was. But she found nothing she could say.

        "Prepare for destruction, Autobots." Devastator’s clumsy voice held no emotion in it, only the simple statement of an unstoppable war machine. It reached forward with one arm and grasped hold of the side of the Iacon base, pushing with its fingers through the heavy armor as if it were butter. The outer wall of the ancient Autobot fortress came apart in Devastator’s hands, and as it pulled its arm, the interior halls of the base lay exposed to Decepticon fire.

        "My word!" In one of those halls, staring out of the new hole at the most dangerous of the Decepticon combiners, Perceptor stood with mouth agape. He quickly turned around to find another way out of Iacon.

        "You are finished, Devastator!" Superion flew in from the far end of the battlefield, slowly due in part to his size and aerodynamics, mostly due to the damage done to his core component, Silverbolt. He leveled his black electrostatic rifled at Devastator and fired. The yellow bolt from his cannon struck directly in the center of the purple chest shield of the Decepticon, sending pale lightning bolts arcing across the Devastator’s torso.

        Devastator paused for scant seconds. Grimacing, he lifted the wall he had torn off Iacon over his head and threw it directly at Superion. The Autobot tried to dodge, but wasn’t fast enough, and was clipped in the arm. His rifle was flung out of his hand, and he crashed, spinning, to the ground. Devastator, not one to allow an enemy to rise up against him a second time, walked over to the fallen Superion. Superion struggled to stand, his arms quaking with the effort of lifting his enormous body, and managed to get on one weakened knee before Devastator got behind him.

        Devastator grabbed Superion and put him in a headlock, lifting him physically off the ground and attempting to use its brute strength alone to tear Superion’s head from his shoulders. Superion screamed with the pain of it, and small, blue bolts of energy scrabbled across Superion’s body. Devastator felt the tingle of this electricity and released his opponent, stepping back away from the Autobot. As Superion stood up to his full height on shaky legs, Devastator narrowed his optics and frowned. Was this some new Autobot weapon?

        He is weak, Hook whispered inside his mind.

        Damaged, crippled, the voice of his component Scrapper.

        His magnetic field is collapsing, Scavenger spoke.

        Destroy him! Mixmaster cried.

        Crush him! Long Haul screamed, and the other components of the Devastator began to howl inside his mind, spurring him on to destruction. Kill him! Smash him! Demolish him! Annihilate him!

        Superion shook his head to clear it, looked to where his rifle fell. He shifted his optics from his weapon to the Devastator, wondering whether he would be able to reach it in time. Devastator seemed to be in some kind of daze, staring intently at Superion but not moving. Superion knew he couldn’t defeat Devastator with his bare hands, knew also that he was Iacon’s only chance for survival.

        He looked at the rifle, lying canted on some rubble. He would have to go for it.

        Superion leapt forward for the rifle, landed, grabbed it, and rolled to a kneeling position. It was an extremely elegant move for such an enormous Transformer, and it ended with him in a perfect position to counterattack Devastator. He brought the rifle up, aimed it for the unmoving Devastator, pulled his finger back—

        —and the shot went wild as an electrical surge shuddered through Superion as his systems tried to compensate for the failing magnetic field trying to hold his components together. Superion kneeled, twitching slightly, his systems locked up due to his overloaded circuits.

        It was during this time that Devastator seemed to awaken out of his trance, first turning his head slowly to glower at Superion, then walking slowly, confidently, as if he had nothing to fear, to the Autobot. Superion watched in horror as the Decepticon walked right up to him, a faint smile on his face, pulled the rifle out of his hand, and crushed it. The explosion of the collapsing power cell partially blinded Superion’s optics, but even with static crawling over his vision he could see Devastator, completely undamaged.

        And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the energon surge ended, and Superion was free to move once again. Not that it mattered—without his rifle, he would need to fight Devastator hand-to-hand, a battle that he knew he couldn’t win. A battle that he would have to find a way to win, if Iacon was to survive this day.

        Superion used the leverage from his kneeling position to leap into the air and engage his boosters. If he could stay out of Devastator’s way, then he wouldn’t have to worry about the Decepticon’s enormous strength—if he could find some wreckage he could throw at him, then he would have offensive capabilities—ah, there! The meters-thick wall from Iacon that Devastator had thrown at him. That would do nicely. Superion flew to the twisted metal and picked it up, straining himself once again and causing the blue flashes to spark all over him. He looked at Devastator, saw the Decepticon was approaching. Good. As long as he was paying attention to Superion he wasn’t destroying Iacon, and that was all Superion was worried about.

        The wall was far heavier than Devastator had made it look, and Superion had to struggle to keep it aloft. He knew he wouldn’t be able to throw it at Devastator—it would get no distance whatsoever. So, holding it firmly in both his hands, he activated his boosters and, with the wall in front of him, flew straight at Devastator, the thin edge of the wall aimed straight for his midsection.

        Devastator braced himself for the attack, spreading his legs and hunkering low, reaching out with his arms in front of him. To Superion, he looked comically like he was hoping to stop the blow with his hands. To others on the battlefield more familiar with Earth and its culture, he looked as if he were about to be hit by a truck and was trying to motion for it to stop.

        With a horrendous crunching of metal, the two giants met.

        And Superion floated, stunned. Devastator had caught the attack, and now held firmly onto the wall. The Decepticon’s teeth ground together in fury and effort as it tried to tear the wall loose from Superion’s grasp. Superion refused to let go, however, and clenched the metal with an even stronger grip.

        Which was exactly what the Devastator wanted. He smiled, and then began to push and pull the wall, shaking it not entirely unlike a predator trying to break its prey’s neck by shaking it back and forth in its jaws. Superion wasn’t expecting such an attack, and the wall slammed against his chest several times as his arms gave way to this new assault. Sparks flew as the ragged edge of the wall slammed against Superion, shaking him loose and rattling his circuits somewhat badly.

        Superion landed, shaking himself to get over the pain, only to look up and see Devastator swinging the wall at his head. He was able to get an arm up in time, and the wall smashed into it, crumpling and finally shearing in half. Superion’s arm fared little better, and he almost heard Fireflight scream in his mind as the wall crushed most of the jet fuselage on the outside of the arm. Superion felt everything from that elbow to his hand go numb, and knew that he could no longer even hope to compete with Devastator.

        Superion punched at Devastator with his remaining good arm and connected solidly with the Decepticon’s rectangular head. The Devastator barely flinched, however, and came in closer to Superion. Superion punched again, and again, and still there was no effect. Superion tried a wild swing with his left arm, and Devastator brushed it away casually. Then, like pistons, the Decepticon’s purple fists drove into Superion’s belly, smashing again and again into the metal there, buckling it. Superion stood, half-hunched over, taking beating after beating, and with every punch the blue sparks of his magnetic containment field failing grew brighter and brighter. Devastator ended the punishment with a single right uppercut to Superion’s head, knocking him backwards, flying, and with a bright flash of blue light the Autobot combiner came apart, his limbs falling away and his head twisting to one side as a power coupling in his neck exploded.

        Superion fell into the wreckage of Cybertron, his five components once more in charge of themselves, and knowing that they had failed to stop Devastator.
 

       To Chapter Fourteen