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        "Soundwave, report. Where is Perceptor?" Cyclonus, Scourge and Soundwave stood far from the main Decepticon encampment on Charr, that their conversation would not be overheard by prying audio receptors. Motormaster and the other Decepticons damaged by Galvatron’s outburst had been taken away by Astrotrain to Quintessa, where they would be repaired by the Quintessons under Cyclonus’ orders. Already the alliance with the Quintessons was paying off for the Decepticons—it was beneficial to have a pet scientist about. It was this same logic that made Cyclonus order Soundwave to hunt down the Autobot scientist—this same logic that angered him when Soundwave returned to the Decepticon flock without him, without even him in pieces, to prove that the Autobots no longer had one of their greatest assets.

        "There were unforeseen complications. Perceptor’s lab was heavily defended. I was unable to capture or destroy him. Secondary objective was met, however—Buzzsaw is now embedded in the Autobot central computer core, and is feeding data to me constantly on the actions of the Autobots."

        Cyclonus smiled. "Well, at least we have that. It should be of little consequence—we control an entire race of scientists, while the Autobots have only Perceptor."

        "But Perceptor’s abilities are legend among both the Autobots and the Decepticons. He found a cure for cosmic rust, actually discovered a way to duplicate matter, albeit an unstable method. . ." Scourge spoke in a voice filled with awe, as if he actually remembered the events of which he spoke.

        "Scourge, legends are merely inflated facts. Perceptor as a scientist is overrated. Were Soundwave to capture him, I would have disassembled him on the spot to prevent him from foiling our plans. Should Soundwave have destroyed him, I would have been content that he could not oppose us. As events stand, however, we will have to be careful—if he is able to discern that we are planning to use Unicron’s technology to boost the power of the Decepticons, the Autobots will begin working to prevent us from doing that, and we will once again be the diseased wrecks that we have been for the past year." Cyclonus turned to Soundwave. "You have done as well as could be expected of you, Soundwave. Report to me everything of interest that Buzzsaw reports to you—I will trust your judgment on this matter."

        "Yes, Cyclonus." As Soundwave turned and walked back to the Decepticon camp, Cyclonus and Scourge left in the opposite direction, to speak privately.

        "Cyclonus, I fear Galvatron’s madness has remained, as we feared."

        "I know, Scourge. I could see it in his optics as he came out to challenge Motormaster. My hope is that this is a singular incident, to reinforce to the Decepticons that the threat of his power is real, not merely an illusion of words. But we both know that this is only my hope—that these attacks on our own kind will only continue." Cyclonus walked with his arms behind his back, staring into the distance, thinking.

        "So, do we depose him?" Scourge asked quietly. The next thing he knew, he was flying across the landscape of Charr, his jaw aching from a devastating roundhouse blow, to land head-first into a rocky outcropping. He massaged his twisted neck as the dust settled around him. Looking up, he saw Cyclonus walking toward him, his hands clenched into fists by his side.

        "You will never speak such nonsense in my presence again, or next time I will tear you apart. Do you understand, Scourge?" Cyclonus stood tall over Scourge, looking down at the tracker with a mixture of anger and sadness in his face.

        "Y-yes, Cyclonus. My apologies."

        Cyclonus reached down with one hand and helped Scourge up. Scourge dusted himself off, and they continued their walk, with Cyclonus speaking.

        "Galvatron’s madness infects all of us, I fear. My violence, your treachery which provoked it—no, we cannot depose him. We have spent far too much, for far too long, to find him. Were we to betray him now, he would destroy us—Galvatron is mighty, and that might has not diminished even for all this time that has passed. And even if we did succeed, we would not be able to unite the Decepticons all under a single banner again. Even for the few hours that Starscream was the commander of the Decepticons, there was fragmentation in the ranks, with Shockwave announcing that he and his troops would not be taking Starscream’s orders. For all that he may be bad for us, he is necessary."

        "What can we do, then?" Scourge asked. "If we keep him as leader, all he’ll manage to do is reduce the numbers of our troops without giving us any tactical advantage over the Autobots!"

        Cyclonus thought back to the recent attack upon Cybertron, about the bitter sting of defeat there. "No, Galvatron’s strategy was sound—we almost won that battle. If not for the Autobots’ penchant for self-sacrifice, and the appearance of their battle fleet, we would have won that battle. Victory had been so close! It is not Galvatron’s ability to do battle that I doubt—it is his ability to keep the Decepticons alive and well outside of battle that I do not trust. So that is a responsibility I must take on for myself."

        "You, Cyclonus? Won’t Galvatron see that as a threat to his power?"

        Cyclonus saw the barrel of Galvatron’s particle accelerator again, aimed at him, ready to fire. The vision passed. "Galvatron already sees me as a threat to his power. But he also knows that he needs me to keep the Decepticons together under his rule. I do not fear destruction for doing what is right for our people, Scourge."

        "But if you’re destroyed for it, you can’t continue to help us. . .you will be destroying us in the long run."

        Cyclonus looked at Scourge with surprise. Was that a tone of pleading in his voice? A note of affection? Cyclonus smiled, placed one hand on Scourge’s shoulder. "That is why I have no intention of letting Galvatron know what I am doing, Scourge. I shall do what I must in secret, if that is what is necessary—but I will never bow my head and allow the Decepticons to crumble to dust. Never."

        "Spike, Carly, Daniel—what a pleasure to see you again."

        All around in the repair bay underneath Iacon, sparks flew and metal clanked as the automated repair systems took care of those injuries that did not require Perceptor or First Aid’s immediate attention. Perceptor stood at one of the primary overseer consoles, making certain that everything was proceeding apace which, of course, it was. The Witwicky family stood by his feet, having walked across the bay from the main doors.

        "Hello, Perceptor. We heard about Bumblebee. How’s he doing?" Spike asked, a worried look on his face.

        Perceptor smiled. "He survived the attack, if that’s what you want to know. Come, I’ll take you to him." With one last glance over his console, Perceptor started walking toward the back of the repair bay, to one of the private surgical chambers for the worst cases that came in. "He was in terrible condition—his ion cyclotron and fuel pump were destroyed, his laser core was breached and on the verge of deactivation, and his cranial module and positronic cortex were compromised. However, we—"

        "Perceptor?" Carly asked.

        "Yes, Carly?"

        "We can’t understand you."

        "Ah. Uhm. . .yes, he was badly damaged. But we were able to. . .ah. . .fix?. . .him." Perceptor’s face clearly showed his puzzlement as he tried to simply his speech. He looked as if he had forgotten to say something, but couldn’t remember what it was he had forgotten to say. He shook his head to clear it, walked up to a door, and pressed the keypad next to it. "Allow me to introduce you to Goldbug!"

        The door slid open to reveal an Autobot who looked roughly like Bumblebee, but with a brighter shine to his golden paint and a larger, stronger-looking body. The Autobot bent down on one knee, revealing a head that looked nothing like Bumblebee—he was armored, now, with a faceplate covering everything below his optic sensors.

        "Bumblebee?" Spike asked.

        Goldbug shook his head. "Nope. I’m Goldbug, now. They couldn’t fix up my old body, so they moved my laser core into this new beauty! I’m stronger, faster and more fuel efficient now." Goldbug looked away from his old human friends, balling a single fist. "I’d thank Cyclonus if I didn’t want to tear him apart so bad."

        Spike heard the change in Goldbug’s voice, from joy and pride to anger and bitterness. He had never heard his old friend Bumblebee speak with such an edge to his tone—he guessed something more important than Bumblebee’s body changed thanks to the recent Decepticon attack.

        Goldbug stood up and looked up at Perceptor—not so far a distance as it once was. "Am I good to go, Perceptor? Can I finally get out of this place?"

        Perceptor gave Goldbug the once-over, peering at him as if he were trying to decided. "Well, from what I can tell, your new body is functioning without error, so I guess you can depart early."

        "Thanks, Perceptor." Goldbug transformed from his robot mode into his vehicular mode—which, aside from its paintjob, was indistinguishable from the alternate mode he had worn for 22 years. He opened one door. "Come on inside, everybody! Let’s think about something other than the war for a little while!"

        "Galvatron. Galvatron!"

        Galvatron opened his optics, looked around the room, his head jerking in great sweeping motions as he rose from the throne carved out of the stone of Charr. There was no one in the chamber with him—where had the voice come from?

        "Show yourself, and face the wrath of Galvatron!" He screamed, charging the particle accelerator on his arm. "I will tear you apart for disturbing my rest!"

        "Galvatron! The Matrix. You must destroy the Matrix." The voice appeared out of the thin air, echoing and reverberating through the entire cavern, shaking Galvatron to the core.

        "Who said that? Show yourself!" Galvatron was spinning, now, trying to see all around him at once. He was damaged, weakened, angry, frightened, all at once, and whoever was doing this too him would pay for their insolence!

        Suddenly, Galvatron was blinded by a flash of light—and when his vision cleared, he saw once again the battle over Cybertron, Autobots and Decepticons united against a common foe—Unicron. He saw the battle from a great distance away, watching as Unicron’s awesome power swatted down Autobot and Decepticon alike in blind rage and hunger. He felt that rage and hunger in himself—he had been betrayed by his own creation, how dare he! His creation would suffer the pain of betrayal as acutely as he now did. The Matrix! It burned! It burned!

        Galvatron fell to the floor of his throne room, screaming, clawing at his own chest and abdomen, trying desperately to tear the Matrix flame from out of him, trying to ease the pain of his own treachery, trying to ease the pain which burned inside him, made him want to destroy, destroy, DESTROY!

        Galvatron collapsed, whimpering like a wounded child, curled up into a fetal position, twitching every once and awhile as his nightmares followed him through his haunted dreams into the seething wasteland of his own mind.
 

        To Chapter Twenty-One