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        To Chapter Twenty
 

        "This is the Decepticons’ new home?"

        Springer stared out the cockpit window of the Autobot shuttle and snickered. Below them, Charr rotated silently in space, its surface a grayed husk, its atmosphere completely burned away by some ancient and unknowable cataclysm.

        "According to the readings on this thing, yeah," Brainstorm said, tapping the cylindrical construction that took of half the space inside the small Autobot shuttle. "The Decepticons’ ion trails lead straight here. Well, almost. But if you calculate the ion dispersion rates and orbital velocities—"

        "I get it, Brainstorm. Man, you’re as bad as Perceptor." Springer frowned. "Are you detecting any Decepticon energy signatures, Chromedome?"

        Chromedome double-checked his readings, then whistled softly. "I sure am, Springer."

        "How many?"

        Chromedome turned to look directly at Springer. "All of them."

        The other Autobots in the shuttle—Sureshot, Pointblank, Crosshairs, Hardhead, and Highbrow—all stopped talking among themselves when they heard Chromedome’s announcement. They looked at each other, saw the nervous, fearful excitement in each others’ optics. They looked down, to the weapons they held in their hands, wondering if they would have to use them. Wondering if they would use them for the last time today.

        "All right, fellas. I’m bringing us down." Springer eased the steering column forward, and the shuttle began a dive toward the surface of Charr. The planet itself had virtually no atmosphere, making their descent flame-free and silent. Springer landed the shuttle a dozen kilometers away from where Chromedome’s sensors indicated the main Decepticon encampment was. With the landing complete, Springer stood and faced the other Autobots.

        "Well, it’s showtime. Let’s get out there and do some spying., people."

        "I don’t think all of us going is an excellent idea," Highbrow spoke up. "In case something goes wrong, we’ll need this shuttle to escape—and if we’re all busy running back to it, then nobody’s in here to fire up the engines for an immediate departure. I would prefer that one of us remain behind, to have the shuttle ready for launch should we need it."

        Springer stared hard at Highbrow, then nodded. "Let me guess, you nominate yourself? Fine. Everybody else, let’s go."

        Springer headed out the hatch, followed by all the other Autobots, leaving Highbrow behind. As he walked past Highbrow, Hardhead whispered "Coward" ever-so-slightly in Highbrow’s audio receptor. Highbrow stared at him angrily as he left, then closed the ship’s hatch.

        "You’ll see I was right, Hardhead." He said to himself in the empty shuttle cabin, to keep himself company while his fellows sought the Decepticons. "You’ll see I was right, and then you’ll eat those words!"

        "All right, folks, here’s the plan. We’re gonna have to walk around, because if we transform the dust from our tires and thruster vents’ll be seen for miles around. We’re gonna stick in this big group, and whatever happens we’re not gonna split up, because we’ve got strength in numbers."

        "The Decepticons have even stronger numbers." Pointblank murmured.

        "And that’s exactly why we’re going to stick together. Alone, we don’t stand a chance—together, the chances of at least one of us making it out are a lot higher."

        "And our chances of actually being able to sneak around are. . ."

        "Quiet! With us blabbering like this, the chances of us doing anything are slim to none. Now come on." Springer waved his team forward with a sweep of his arm, and they began to creep across the barren surface of Charr.

        Springer had had the foresight to land the shuttle in a fairly mountainous region, to cover their approach. As Chromedome looked around, keeping his optics locked on the crevices and ledges all around them, he thought that it was the perfect place to hide Decepticons, as well. Decepticons that could appear and destroy them in a crossfire, not even giving them a chance to respond. His muscle cables tightened out of nervousness. He didn’t like this. Not one little bit.

        After nearly half an hour of creeping along, the Autobots came to a ledge that overlooked the Decepticon base. They kneeled and crawled to the edge to examine the Decepticons. It seemed to be arranged around a flat valley, with a large cave on one end that had carved steps leading to its black entrance. The Decepticons themselves were milling about aimlessly, nursing their wounds from the recent battle. Springer could not repress his shock.

        "What the—they’re living like recycler drones on the lower levels of Cybertron! If this is what the Decepticons have come to, I’m amazed they even got as far as they did with that attack on us, never mind the fact that they won’t be able to make another attack like that!" Springer shook his head. "Trounced by energon-starved feebleminds. I can’t wait to break that news to Rodimus."

        "You’re forgetting that cave over there, Springer." Brainstorm whispered. "Likely it leads to some underground complex. That may be where the Decepticons are hiding their equipment and energon cubes—this pathetic exterior is more than likely a ruse."

        Springer looked at him, nodded. "You’ve got a point, there. All right, so how do we get in there?"

        Sureshot looked aghast. "What do you mean, how do we get in there? It’s easy enough—we don’t! The entrance is in the middle of a Decepticon camp! We’re outnumbered and outgunned—are you planning a suicide run, Springer?"

        Springer shrugged as well as he could, lying on his belly. "You got a better idea of finding out what the Decepticons are capable of?"

        Sureshot frowned.

        "That’s what I thought. All right, then, let’s make our way along the edge of this canyon, slow and careful to not attract attention. Then, we’re gonna sneak into that cave and find out what’s there. With any luck at all, it’s just as empty and worthless as those Deceptibums. Let’s go."

        They moved away from the edge of the cliff to a point behind some nearby rocks from which they would be nearly invisible to the Decepticon camp, then started following the rocks around to the far end of the valley. Springer checked in with Highbrow back at the Autobot shuttle periodically, to let him know that they were all right.

        Unnoticed by any of the Autobots, they were being followed. Leaping from shadow to shadow behind them, Ravage could only be seen by the dim glow of his optics as he watched the Autobots, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The Autobots’ hiding place was one easily enough ruined. . .but he had to wait until the Decepticons would be certain to see, and act, with maximum force.

        Springer and his team finally reached the cliff face above the open cavern and, pressing themselves as well as they could against the rocks to make themselves as invisible as they could, they moved toward the edge of the cliff, hoping to slide down into the cavern without getting spotted. It was a desperate hope, Springer knew—which is why he planned on firing a shot toward the far side of the valley, to where they had first approached, in order to turn the Decepticons’ attention away from the cave.

        Springer glanced back at his team, waited for the solemn nod from each of them indicating that they were ready. He nodded in return, leveled his gun on a loose boulder on the far side of the valley—

        —and suddenly all hell broke loose. The rock around the Autobots shuddered from sudden assault, and the Decepticons in the valley turned to stare directly at them, looking to see what had caused the rumblings. Springer, stunned only for a moment, analyzed the situation below, knew their cover was blown. And, looking up, he saw what had done it—Ravage, atop a nearby boulder, his hip launchers smoking from recently fired missiles.

        The call rose up from the valley almost immediately. "Autobots! Destroy them!"

        "Return to the ship! Now!" Springer cried to his team, and they bolted from their hiding places, transforming into their faster vehicle modes and fleeing at their best speeds for their distant shuttle. Springer, flying at the rear of the procession of running Autobots, watched as the Decepticons followed them, weapons firing. He cursed himself mentally for not noticing Ravage—he wasn’t the first Autobot to be tricked by the cunning spy, and he knew it. The very fact of that knowing made him angrier with himself, as if by knowing Ravage was so dangerous he could have somehow spotted the jaguar earlier, found some way of preventing the Decepticon from blowing their cover.

        Springer dodged a shot from a Sweep, activated his comm link back to the shuttle. "Highbrow, Ravage blew our cover. We’re retreating as quickly as possible, but we’re outnumbered and under heavy fire. Fire up the shuttle and pull our skidplates out of the smelting pool!"

        The reply from Highbrow was immediate. "I thought those fireworks looked like your doing. Locking on to your signal now. . .didn’t I tell you how handy this would be?"

        "Stow it, Highbrow. We can pat you on the back after we’ve gotten the heck out of here!"

        In the distance, Springer could make out the dark shape of the Autobot shuttle rising up and turning, slowly, too slowly, toward his team. Thrusters fired, silhouetting the ship in white energies, and suddenly the shuttle was right there, right with them, its hatch open, beckoning to the Autobots, advertising the safety it offered them.

        As his team transformed and climbed into the shuttle, Springer swung around to face the Decepticon army that was rapidly approaching. He fired everything he had into that mob, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to take them all out or, without that, at least distract them enough to get his team to safety inside the shuttle.

        "Autobot scrap!" Blitzwing cried as one of Springer’s shots tore a hole through his armor, knocking him to the dusty ground.

        "Blow it out yer exhaust, Decepticon!" Springer called, dodging and firing at the Decepticon. He paid too much attention to that single adversary, however, failing to dodge another shot that tore apart his rotor. "Argh!" Springer transformed as he fell, landing heavily and rolling to reduce the internal damage he would take from the fall. It made him an easy target, however.

        In the shuttle, Brainstorm stared out the cockpit window to where the Decepticons were converging on Springer. "Get us over there, Highbrow! Now!"

        Highbrow nodded silently, and the shuttle’s engines thrummed as he brought the ship closer to Springer, passing close over the Decepticons’ heads. From the still-open hatch, Crosshairs held out his arm to Springer, who was already pierced in a hundred places from the Decepticons’ weapons.

        "Springer, come on! Grab my hand, I’ll pull you up!"

        Springer looked up, leaking coolant obscuring the vision in one optic, and reached out with his right hand, straining to grab Crosshair’s hand. As Highbrow lowered the shuttle, it came under heavy fire from the Decepticons, shuddering under blast after repeated blast of energy from Decepticon weapons.

        "Hurry up back there! I won’t be able to keep this ship together for much longer!" Highbrow called.

        Crosshairs spared a glance at the ship’s pilot, then called down to Springer, "Jump!"

        Springer narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge just how much power he’d have to call up to jump, then leapt, arms forward, reaching for all he was worth out to Crosshairs, hand outstretched and desperate to grab hold of Springer.

        A sudden explosion rocked the shuttle, knocking everyone inside around. Crosshairs grabbed the floor and wall for stability, and Springer missed grabbing onto him. The cracked, light green hand appeared for a second over the edge of the hatch ramp, then disappeared.

        "No!" Crosshairs cried.

        "Relax, I’m not out of this yet. Gimme a hand, here!" Springer’s face was wound in concentration as he held onto the very edge of the ramp with a single hand. A single slipping hand. Crosshairs edged forward onto the ramp, reaching for Springer—

        —another explosion rocked the shuttle, this time directly on the ramp. The fires of the explosion tore Springer’s hand apart, and he fell back toward the surface of Charr, landing clumsily and tearing apart several muscle cables in his legs as he did so. Crosshairs started to call out to Springer, then another shot took him in the chest, and he was flung backwards into the shuttle.

        Galvatron flew over his soldiers and landed, standing over Springer, laughing. Springer stared up at the leader of the Decepticons, clutching the ruined stump at the end of his right arm, his might fogged in a haze of pain from his overstressed superstructure. Staring into Galvatron’s face, still partly burned away from his battle with Rodimus Prime, Springer knew he was staring into the face of death. He tried to stand on his broken legs, to make his last stand at least something of a fight, at least something he could be proud of.

        His legs failed beneath him, and he collapsed back to the dusty ground of Charr like a sack.

        The Decepticons around him began to laugh. He felt a sharp kick in his side, but refused to acknowledge it with the grunt of pain he had to bite back. Overhead, the shuttle began to circle back, and Springer cursed the Autobots inside for it. Get out of here, you fools! You’re not going to be able to save me from the entire Decepticon army!

        As if to punctuate Springer’s thoughts, Galvatron unleashed a powerful salvo from his particle cannon, striking the shuttle directly in its underbelly and causing an enormous explosion within its engine core which shook the entire ship. Springer watched in horror as the entire rear quarter of the ship was engulfed in flames, burning the ship with leaking fuel.

        Inside the shuttle, Brainstorm stared at the sparking, burning engine compartment of the shuttle. After a few quick calculations, he turned to Highbrow, screaming to be heard over the deafening roar of the exposed engine core.

        "We can’t stay here, Highbrow! Vacuum’s our only hope of putting out this fire! We’ve got to leave, head back into open space!"

        Highbrow’s optics narrowed. "I know," he said simply, pushing the throttle forward and pulling the nose of the shuttle up.

        Crosshairs fought back the numbness at the edge of his consciousness, struggled to stand up. "You can’t leave, not yet! Springer’s still down there!"

        Highbrow turned around, away from the controls, to look straight at Crosshairs. Crosshairs stepped back when he saw the anger in Highbrow’s face. It was only a processor-cycle later that he realized Highbrow’s anger was not directed at himself, but at Highbrow, for his need to make such a fatal decision.

        "Don’t you think I know that, Crosshairs? Do you want to die with him, and the knowledge we’ve gained about the Decepticons with us? Leaving Cybertron and Earth open to further attacks? Do you?"

        Crosshairs responded by turning away and leaning against the side of the open hatchway, staring down at the battlefield rapidly receding below, saying a silent prayer for the friend he knew in his spark he would never see again.

        Springer watched as the shuttle made a break for open space and smiled. Galvatron wasn’t sending any of his forces after the shuttle, so they had a good chance of escaping Charr and returning to Cybertron with their report. "You’ve lost, Galvatron," Springer said, knowing even as he spoke that Galvatron would not let him live for speaking to him in such a fashion. "Once my team gets back to Cybertron, Rodimus Prime and every other Autobot in this galaxy’s gonna come down on this little rock ball so fast you won’t even have time to scream in pain."

        Galvatron looked down with narrow, angry optics. "Then I will ensure, Autobot, that you have enough time to scream for us both."

        Bringing his particle cannon to bear, Galvatron fired straight into Springer’s gut. Springer screamed, his vocoder circuits trying to tear out of his throat in their agony, and the last thought that went through Springer’s mind as he died, one filled with detached wonder and sadness, was that he could feel every circuit in his body shutting down, one. . .by. . .one. . .
 

        To Chapter Twenty-Two