MONDAY, JUNE 4, 2412 ACROSS MOBILE HEADQUARTERS PHILIP MARLOWE TAGON HEIGHTS, CYBERTRON The emergency hatchway to the Philip Marlowe's bridge clanged suddenly open, startling the three members of the dropship's command crew who were up there at the time. They all turned to look; for a moment no one emerged, but then the tall, brawny form of the ACROSS Getter Team chief engineer clambered up from the depths below. "Senior Chief Warrant Officer Mora Bascht reporting, Colonel Katsuragi!" she said, coming to heel-clicking attention and snapping a regulation salute. The military effect was marred somewhat by the head-wrap bandage visible below the sweatband of her ACROSS ballcap and the makeshift sling holding up her left arm, not to mention the smirk on her face. ACROSS field commander Misato Katsuragi rolled her eyes. "I know who you are, Mora," she said. "Yeah, well, sometimes I feel like I need to remind you," Mora replied, dropping her military stance. "Keith, c'mon, are you comin' or what?" she added, then reached down into the hatchway and hauled Chuck Keith up onto the bridge by the collar of his jumpsuit. "Nice kid, but he's a little slow," Mora confided to Misato as she set the young pilot down on the deck next to her. "So what've we got? What happened to your arm?" "Eh, wrenched my shoulder keeping Topanga from going over the reactor core railing when you hit... whatever the fourth thing you hit was," Mora replied with a dismissive gesture. "Couple of Miraculon patches and I'll be fine. The ship, on the other hand... well, I've got good news and bad news." Misato sighed and rubbed her brow with her right hand. "Give me the bad news first, Mora." The engineer nodded and consulted a datapad. "First off, we've got some people banged up. The worst are Tsuchida and Fitzroy from the armaments section - they were in the wrong place when a Warthog got loose on the vehicle deck, they've got some pretty bad limb fractures. We've got them stable, but they're not going to be going anyplace without help. Everybody else is mostly bruised and scraped. "Equipment-wise, we've got damage to about 15 percent of the mobile gear - one Napoleon is a total loss, plus a couple others and a few Meerkats got banged up, and one of the Pelicans overturned when the gravity blipped - wasn't quite tied down, I guess. Most of it's reparable, but I don't think we've got the time right now. The good news is that the Getter Machines and your Destroid are fine - the launch and recovery systems are trashed, but the damage doesn't extend to the bays themselves. We may have a little trouble getting them -out-, but they should be functional." "And the ship itself?" "Trashed," Mora replied succinctly. "I won't know for sure without a shipyard and a naval architect to run a full survey, but I'm thinking we might end up going shopping when this is over. Main power's never coming back online without an overhaul; backup systems are working, but they won't hold out forever. When they go, the gravity turns off for good, which will make things kind of hard to deal with, since the ship's lying on its back -and- down by the nose about ten degrees." "Weapons aren't doing too hot either," Priss Morgan chimed in from underneath the tactical console. "The fact that I had to patch the panel leads through my iPod to get any kind of control back notwithstanding, all the high-energy weapons are offline and I can't swear to the ammo feeds for the Gauss rifles. On the plus side, from what sensors I've managed to get working, it doesn't look like they came after us." Misato sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "Why is it always the blue milk runs this kind of thing happens on? I need a drink." She turned to the comm station. "Sylvie, any luck?" Dark-haired Sylvie Daniels seemed lost in thought and didn't respond for a few moments. She was working the comm panel's controls with her eyes mostly closed, all her attention focused on the inputs she was receiving from the earpiece plugged into her right ear. With one hand she held a slider steady while the other slowly, slowly turned one of the panel's larger knobs. Then she seemed to awaken from her trance, turned to Misato, and said, "I've got Autobase for you." "Thank God," Misato said, turning toward the main viewer. "Put 'em on." The screen flickered, fizzed to static, then partially cleared to reveal the silhouette of an Autobot. For a moment it was impossible to tell which one; then Sylvie made another minute adjustment to one of the gain controls and the image cleared a bit further. "Hello? Can you hear me, Colonel?" the Autobot said. "This is Autobot Prowl calling from Autobase, Iacon." "I hear you, Prowl," Misato said. "I can even sort of see you. We're in a bit of a jam." "So I understand," Prowl replied, nodding. "We lost you on our planetary-defense radar somewhere over the Tagon Heights, and analysis of the power grid failures in that area gives us a pretty good idea of where you are now. What's your status?" "Our ship is wrecked and our people are banged up, but everybody's alive," Misato replied. "We could use a hand getting -out- of here, though." "Understood. Wait one," Prowl said. He turned to consult an off-camera readout, then turned back, his expression grim. "You may have noticed," he said with just a trace of wryness, "that Cybertron appears to be under Decepticon attack. They've overwhelmed our orbital defense perimeter and appear to be making for landfall. Most of our airmobile forces are tied up preparing to meet their ground attack before they land. I'm afraid I can't spare anyone to assist you at the moment - at least not anyone who can get there quickly." Misato nodded. "I was afraid of that," she said. She made no protest to Prowl's assessment of the situation; she knew very well that he was an expert military strategist, Optimus Prime's right-hand bot when it came to battle planning, and if he said he couldn't spare the forces, he couldn't spare them. Military realities were Prowl's stock in trade. "Is your position defensible?" Prowl asked. "Not sure," Misato admitted. "We've been taking stock of our situation inside the ship - haven't had much of a chance to assess things on the outside. Still, from what I saw when we were coming in, I wouldn't bet on it. This area's mostly flat and we left a trail a blind man could follow. If they want another piece of us, the 'Cons won't have trouble finding us." "Well, keep your heads down," Prowl said. "We think Shockwave is leading this assault - the orbital phase had all the hallmarks of one of his strategies. Now that he's gotten you out of his way, he's unlikely to devote further resources to you right now. His plan will be to seize Cybertron and eliminate Autobot strength centers as quickly as possible." "And tidy up the loose ends once he's achieved his primary objectives," Misato filled in, nodding. "Yeah, that's Shockwave. OK, we'll sit tight, unless the situation changes." "Keep us posted," Prowl agreed. "Good luck, Colonel." "You too, Prowl." "Autobase out." Misato sat back in her seat and sighed once more. "This day keeps getting better and better." "And now it's even better than that," Priss added. "What? What now?" "I just got one of the long-range lateral arrays working again," the redheaded pilot reported, "and I don't like what it's telling me. You know that Decepticon assault fleet?" "Uh... yeah?" "Well, if these readings are right, it's going to pass almost directly overhead of this spot in about three hours. I've run a couple projections on their deorbit curve - their LZ must be someplace west of here." "Well, Prowl did say they were prepping for landfall," Misato mused. "Hell!" "His estimate of our crash position must be off. He wouldn't have told us to just sit here if he knew we were right under their approach vector, would he?" Chuck asked. "Maybe," Misato said. "Nobody knows Shockwave like Prowl... but... " She considered her options for a few moments, then turned to Mora and said, "I have a bad feeling about this." Mora Bascht had worked with Misato Katsuragi for almost 30 years; as a newbie Destroid tech straight out of warrant officer school, she'd been assigned to the crew of then-Major Katsuragi's Warhammer back in the Armored Cav, and they'd been part of the same team pretty much ever since. She knew the way Misato thought, the way she reacted to situations, and now all she had to do was nod. "Two hours, maybe three," she replied. Misato thought about that for a second, then nodded, her resolve crystallizing. "If the Autobots can't come to us, we'll go to them. Prepare to abandon ship!" /* Joe Satriani "Crushing Day" _Surfing with the Alien_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited and Imagination, Unlimited present UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT TRANSFORMERS: CYBERTRON RELOADED Issue #2 - "Getter Robo vs. the State" Benjamin D. Hutchins Philip Jeremy Moyer The Transformers created by Hasbro/Takara (c) 2006 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited How many times, Misato Katsuragi wondered rhetorically to herself, have I done this? The answer was probably somewhere in her IPO personnel file; like all MechWarriors, she had an automatic log attached to her personnel records which registered every operation startup on her assigned equipment. The official figure would be a few startups off, thanks to some not-strictly-legal sorties from earlier in her career, but it would be close enough for government work. One thing was certain: In 60 years of piloting Destroids and Veritech fighters, she'd had a hell of a lot of startups. She'd always liked Destroid starts better. There was a certain calm and quiet about a Destroid cockpit that a Veritech fighter on the flightline entirely lacked. Even with comm chatter in her earphones and maybe even battle going on outside, the cockpit of a 'Mech - like most Salusian-trained pilots, she used the two terms interchangeably - was like the eye of the storm, an enclosed and private place where she could be alone with her thoughts before combat. Misato slipped into the pilot's seat of her ACROSS command vehicle, a customized Atlas assault Destroid, and went through the well-polished startup routine almost unconsciously. She strapped herself into the seat, connected her cooling vest to the life support system, snugged up her neurohelmet and connected its leads to the input ports on her headrest, settled herself behind the controls, and then switched on the secondary power systems and communications panel. "OK, Mora, I'm ready," she said. "Roger that," Mora's voice replied in her earphones. "My board looks good. You're go for GS-Ride startup." "Copy, go for GS-Ride start." Misato reached to the main reactor control panel, flipped a safety cover away from a large square button, pressed it, held it for five seconds, then released it and punched it down again. There was a low CLUNK from below as heavy capacitors discharged, providing the starting spark needed to energize the Destroid's exotic Getter-ray power core. Status lights flashed green and steadied; gauges flickered, then spun smoothly up to their optimal ranges. Misato's practiced eyes swept the boards and saw nothing out of order. "Reactor start is green," Misato reported. "Skullomania is operational." "Roger that," Mora replied. "Releasing gantry interlocks." Warning lights flashed and a loud buzzer sounded in the Destroid bay as the giant machine was released from its storage rack. "I don't suppose you're going to make it easy on me and open the door," Misato remarked. "Wish I could, but it's jammed," Mora replied. "Probably heat-warped by weapons fire." Misato sighed. It took five minutes of steady pounding for Skullomania to break through the jammed bay door, but break through the Destroid did. "That's it," she announced as the twisted door panel fell away and crashed to the ground below. Poking Skullo's head and shoulders out of the doorway, she oriented herself to the difference between "down" aboard the crashed dropship and "down" in the world outside, then climbed to the edge and jumped to the ground. "OK, get those Pelicans warmed up and let's get the ground vehicles out," she ordered. "There's a clear area just to the east of the crash site we can use as a staging area. Getter Team, you'll fly air cover while we form up the convoy. Mora, your callsign for this op will be Convoy One." "Copy, ACROSS Six. Getting the Pelicans online now. I estimate it'll take us 60 minutes to get everthing squared away." Mora's estimate was almost dead-on. A little more than an hour later, Misato's Destroid stood at the head of a column of vehicles while its pilot surveyed her unit. The ground column was mostly military utility vehicles - Warthog light recon vehicles and Meerkat medium all-terrain trucks. The Warthogs were armed, some with 15mm chainguns, some with light anti-armor rocket launchers, and each had a crew of three: a driver, a gunner, and a TacDiv trooper with a rifle. The Meerkats were unarmed. They carried drivers and shotgun riders up front, and their cargo compartments held the techs, the wounded, and the parts and supplies Mora had deemed indispensable. A half-dozen Pelican aerodyne transports carried extra supplies; a few had spare Warthogs in their vehicle slings. There weren't enough TacDiv troopers to fill every armed spot, but the technical support staff had all been trained to handle the IPO's standard small arms. Able-bodied techs rode shotgun wherever possible so that there would be at least one real trooper aboard each vehicle. Combat-vehicle cover for the utility part of the column would be provided by the unit's two platoons of Napoleon-class light tanks, two at the front, two on each flank, and two at the back. Scrappy little four-treaded machines designed for combat in the dense urban environment of Zardon's Mega-Cities, the Napoleons would be in their element in Cybertron's steel canyons. "ACROSS Six, this is Convoy One," Mora called on the radio from the lead Meerkat. "We're ready to roll." Misato gave the column one more glance, then sighed, looking up at the wreck of the Philip Marlowe through her Destroid's cockpit viewport. "No help for it, I guess. Navigational plot?" "I've set us up a surface course through Sonplex District," Sylvie replied. "Your first waypoint should be on your board as Nav Alpha. This district is semi-derelict; there shouldn't be any civilians around, but the Autobots don't have any forces to speak of here either." "Copy that." She switched her comm system to tactical all-call. "Listen up, ACROSS; this is Six with your operation orders. Warthog group Alpha and Meerkat group Beta, Convoy One is your lead. Follow her and do exactly as she says. Striker Platoon, you're vanguard; Spectre Platoon, you're rearguard. Maintain your covering positions unless you get a regroup order from me or Convoy One. Stick to HEAT rounds only for your main guns - we'll be in close quarters down in those canyons and I do NOT want any overpenetrations. Gamma wing, stay close to Beta group for fire support. All units maintain air watch - the Decepticons are big believers in aerial assault tactics. Getter Flight, designate Convoy One as your reference point and fly a standard rolling patrol pattern. Any questions?" "Six, this is Striker Lead," came the low New Georgia drawl of Sergeant Ken Spruance, commander of the first platoon's lead Napoleon. "Who's buying when we get to Iacon?" Misato grinned. "Striker Lead, that'll be on the company." Spruance chuckled. "Roger -that-, Six. Striker Platoon is ready-op." One by one the voices, flattened by the narrowband signal of ACROSS's tactical band, clicked through Misato's ears as each unit reported in. "Spectre Platoon, ready-op." "Alpha group, ready-op." "Beta group, ready-op." "Gamma wing, ready-op." "Convoy One, ready-op." "Getter Jaguar, ready-op." "Getter Bear, ready-op." "Getter Eagle, ready-op." Misato's grin widened a little bit at the steel she heard in Priss Morgan's voice. She and Priss were kindred spirits; neither one of them could ever really get her head or her heart in the game unless the final score counted for something. "Crap on the parade ground, gold on the battlefield," as one of Misato's early superiors had evaluated her. "Right, then. Move out!" Misato ordered as she set her 'Mech in motion toward Nav Alpha. DECEPTICON FLAGSHIP NEMESIS II THREE MILES ABOVE THE TAGON HEIGHTS, CYBERTRON The command ship of the invading Decepticon forces slowly made its way across the Tagon Heights, casting a long, blocky shadow over its metallic plains and shattered stellar power collectors. The Nemesis II could hardly be considered an elegant design, but what the ship lacked in creature comforts, it made up for in functionality and raw power. Designed to serve the same function as the Wedge Defense Force's renowned Super Dimensional Fortresses, it was an armed forces carrier, a landing craft, and a siege engine, a grey behemoth accented with purple and military green. On the bridge of the Nemesis II, the commander of the Decepticons studied the slowly scrolling terrain plot and tactical holograms with his single yellow optic. He watched the progress of his forces, represented by tiny purple emblems, as reports came in and updated the display. Slowly, inexorably, inevitably, the chosen targets of Shockwave's assault came under Decepticon control. Autobot emblems winked out as defenders were routed from facilities within the vicinities of Kalis and Tyrest, both key materials and energon processing centers. Other Decepticon squads headed towards the Hydrax Plateau in order to seize the spaceport facilities there. <> announced Soundwave from his station. "Onscreen," Shockwave ordered, though he hadn't needed to, as Soundwave had already routed the signal to the main display. "Status, Onslaught?" he addressed the Combaticon commander. Behind Onslaught's shoulder, Shockwave could see the flashes of blaster fire and the smoke of explosions. "The ground battle goes as planned, Commander," replied the large dark blue and olive green robot. "The Autobots in this sector are being routed. They're fleeing into the wastelands. It is doubtful we will even need to form Bruticus for this stage of the assault. The designated facility will be under our control and undergoing modification by the Constructicons by the time the flagship arrives." "Excellent. Hold your position and secure the area; we shall arrive at the coordinates as planned at the anticipated ETA." Onslaught nodded, and saluted. "Affirmative, commander. Onslaught out." The video feed stopped, replaced with a view of Cybertron's horizon. Shockwave considered the view for the briefest of instants, then returned his focus to the tactical plot. The Nemesis II was now approaching the crash site of the human dropship; the dispatched strike team should be reporting back - <> - right now. "Onscreen. Report, Wingspan," Shockwave ordered the turquoise, white, and purple robot who appeared. "We have reached the Overlord dropship and searched its interior. It's... been evacuated. The fleshlings have abandoned the ship, I would estimate no more than an hour ago." Wingspan kept his expression level, focused on his commander and creator, though there was a minor servo twitch at the corner of his right optic. There was a pregnant pause on the bridge of the Nemesis II. "Explain," Shockwave coldly said. "We arrived at the crash site and found evidence of vehicle and mecha movement in the surrounding area. The lower portside Destroid bay door has been forced from the inside. Myself, Pounce, and the Insecticons then proceeded inside to investigate." "Results?" "No humans; their personal items have been removed, and there's evidence that they made sure to slag their own computer cores before departing." The information officer sounded disappointed at not having another source of data to pluck through, and then went on. "There were several wrecked human military vehicles in the smaller bays. I believe Chop Shop is considering hauling them off to play with later. I will be forwarding a salvage manifest soon." "Anything else?" "There are several oddities, Commander. It does not appear that this ship was outfitted for carrying a full complement of Destroids. There are several gantries for mecha storage, but they are much larger than we expected, and only one of them has evidence of recent occupation, possibly by a heavy or assault-class Destroid. Both Pounce and Shrapnel have detected some radiation traces that do not correlate with their known databases of energy sources. Finally... " Wingspan looked offscreen, and nodded his head. A second robot joined him; save for the feral cast to his flexmetal face, he was identical to Wingspan. "We found -this- in one of the squishies' rooms, buried under some debris," growled Pounce, holding up a plaque that had slanted letters and a gold stylized bent arrow emblazoned on it. "I had to keep Chop Shop from making off with it because it was 'shiny'." Shockwave considered the emblem for several seconds, then spoke. "Do you have any indication which direction the human group travelled?" Wingspan glanced over at his clone brother, who spoke again. "Thermal, exhaust, and structural evidence indicates they headed northwest into Sonplex District." Pounce had an anticipatory look on his metal features as he asked, "Do you wish us to pursue, commander?" "Negative. Finish your survey of the dropship and its environs, and then return to the Nemesis II for further orders." "Affirmative, commander," replied Wingspan, and he and Pounce saluted Shockwave before the signal ended. The Decepticon commander stood in silence for a few moments, his hand and cannon folded behind his back. Then, without moving, he said, "Soundwave, dispatch ASF-7 to the human crash site. They are to track the fugitives and eliminate them before they can link up with the Autobots." A muted snarl came from the corner of the control room. Shockwave turned his head toward its source. "You disagree, Razorclaw?" he inquired calmly. The Predacon leader was reclining in a chair at a secondary sensor station, the very picture of deceptive indolence. "A waste of energy," he said. "-Let- them link up with the Autobots. Then they can -fall- with the Autobots and save us the trouble of looking for them." "Ordinarily I would agree with you," Shockwave replied, "but Pounce's findings change the situation." "Hnn," Razorclaw replied, abandoning the discussion. Shockwave turned back to the monitor with a faint air of satisfaction. Winning a disagreement with Razorclaw was easy. All you had to do was outlast his willingness to expend energy on the discussion. TUESDAY, JUNE 5, 2412 SONPLEX DISTRICT, CYBERTRON Sonplex District was one of Cybertron's mixed-use districts, not strictly focused on any one discipline. It had often looked toward Iacon for political and technical support, and many Transformers who worked in the various Cybertronian government facilities had lived there over the centuries. This had made Sonplex District a strategic target for the Decepticons during the opening salvoes of the Great War, but in turn that meant that once the Autobots had regained control, it had been slowly rebuilt and restored to a measure of its former granduer. Many of the buildings closer to Iacon had been restored and repowered, and a sizeable percentage of the roadways in the district had been repaired. The ACROSS convoy was silently thankful for this as they rolled, trudged, and flew through the metallic canyons of Sonplex. The avenues were wide and easily travelled. They made good progress their first day of travel, getting deep within the buildings, covered from passing view. Not everything was wine and roses, however. Not all of the district had been restored; there were still areas without power that had never been viewed worth the effort and energon to rebuild. Some buildings had effectively been condemned, and there were still overpasses that were dangerous to travel. Sylvie's information from her Cybertron Gazetteer was unhelpful in that regard, as it didn't go into such fine detail as every disabled residental block on the planet. And without reliable synchronization with Cybertron's timebase beacons and Global Position satellites (due to the attacking Decepticon fleet's continued jamming), it was impossible to get a reliably updated fix on their current location. Or, to put it another way... "OK," Priss said, lowering her macrobinoculars. She walked across the rooftop, climbed up the side of Getter Eagle, vaulted into the cockpit, put her helmet back on, and announced to the tactical band, "It's official: We're lost." "Well, we can't be -that- lost," Sylvie replied, gesturing from the open cockpit of Getter Jaguar a few yards away. On the horizon, the flashes and smoke of combat were clearly visible. "That's definitely a -battle- over there." "Right, but on which front?" Priss replied. "We've got practically no tactical information coming in. That could be Iacon, but our travel time doesn't add up right for that. It could be Vilnacron, but I think we're north of there by now. It could be somewhere in between." She let out a sound that was half sigh, half snort. "Come to Cybertron, you said. It'll be fun, you said." "Cybertron is Dullsville, you said," Sylvie retorted. "Nothing ever happens there, you said." "Bite me," Priss grumbled. "Not in front of the new boy." Misato's voice cut through. "Can it, you two. Just try and find us a way around this crevasse. We'll skirt that battle; the last thing we want is to come up behind the wrong lines." "Yes, ma'am." Another voice broke into the channel. "Six, this is Gamma Two. I have a fast-mover at ground level moving this way. Estimate range 6,000 yards." "Getter Flight, get airborne. Gamma Two, vector Getter Eagle for intercept." "Ah, no can do, Six," Gamma Two reported. "I lost him in the canyon. Definitely a ground vehicle, say about Warthog-size." "Stunticon?" Chuck wondered. "Could be," Priss replied as she powered up Getter Eagle and lowered her canopy. "Gamma Two, give us a last-known-position fix and we'll check it out." The Getter Machines found nothing; the ground clutter was too dense for airborne sensors to get any useful readings, or even much in the way of visual inspection. "Hell," Misato grumbled. "OK, fall back and take up aerial patrol over the convoy. I'll take point. Striker Platoon, you're with me." "Roger, Six." Several minutes of tense prowling among the area's mostly-derelict buildings revealed nothing but dead ends and broken bridges. Misato was about ready to call off the search and regroup for another try at finding a way across the crevasse when her ground radar bleeped. "Contact, 200 yards!" Striker Lead announced at the same time. "Must be running passive. No IFF!" "Steady, Striker Lead," Misato said, pivoting her Atlas. "Hold fire until I give the word." "Roger," Spruance replied. Misato dropped her crosshairs onto the corner of a building two blocks ahead and waited, glancing occasionally at the radar to ensure that the target was still headed that way. A few moments later, her bet paid off as a vehicle appeared around the corner. Misato tracked it, heard the high tone of LRM lock in her earphones, and saw the vehicle turn toward her. It was small and low-slung, not a tank or armored combat vehicle, and it had a symbol on its sloping forward deck. Misato triggered her optical zoom. "Hold fire," she repeated. "It's an Autobot!" The Autobot drove slowly - almost cautiously - up the street, stopped a short distance away, and then transformed to robot mode. "Colonel Katsuragi?" he inquired. "Outrun, First Autobot Guards. Glad to see you're still in one piece." Misato eyed her targeting computer; after a moment, the screen flickered and, with an audible tone, displayed a schematic view of the Autobot before her, complete with a block of text that confirmed his identity against the conformation files in her recognition database. Relaxing slightly in her seat, she switched off her weapons, silencing the missile lock tone. "Good to see you too, Outrun," she replied. "Did Prowl send you?" "No, ma'am, not exactly. I'm Optimus Prime's datacourier. I was on my way back to Iacon from a message run to Sonplex North when I noticed your energy signatures. Figured I ought to swing by and show you the way around the Calvex Gap. It's not so easy to get around since the 'Cons took out the bridges." "We noticed," Misato said wryly. "Well, we'd sure appreciate your help. Do you have current map data? Our gazetteer is about five years out of date." Outrun chuckled. "I surely do," he said. "Hound's latest surveys of this region are so new the photon paths are still warm." "Beautiful. Let me hook you up with my intel officer," Misato said. "She'll appreciate those maps even more than I do." "Did somebody say maps?" Sylvie cut in. "You're a courier?" Priss added. "You seem a little too... laid back for that kind of work." "Hey, be glad you didn't get Blurr," Outrun replied. "I swear, that boy's been overclocked since the day he came online." A half-mile away, someone regarded the meeting coolly through a telescopic sight and reported the contact to his superior. The news filtered back through the ether, sliding artfully under the general comm traffic of the invasion. There was no real reason to hide it even from other Decepticons, but ASF-7's warriors were a secretive lot who had always held themselves a little apart from the general scrum of Decepticon life, and old habits died hard, especially in the field. Sylvie was beginning to get tired - tired enough that she almost missed the only warning any of them had. Traveling through the metal canyons of Cybertron had gotten easier with updated map data and an expert native guide, but it was still slow going. There were a couple of spots where the road damage was severe enough that Misato actually had to hand-ferry the lighter vehicles across the breaks with her Destroid, which took quite a bit of time. The fact that Cybertron had neither day nor night was also a little disorienting after a while. Sylvie kept having to refer to the chronometer on her instrument panel to remind herself what time of day it was. It was on one of these periodic time checks that she noticed the anomaly. Her main long-range scanner was blank - not just devoid of readings but -blank-, without even surface clutter. "What the crap?" she murmured. "Say again, Syl?" Priss replied. "Talking to myself," Sylvie said. "My long-range scope just blanked on me. Running diagnostic. ... The sensor array is OK, I'm just not picking up anything." The light mist of fatigue that had settled over her in the last hour or so suddenly burned away as a shot of adrenaline hit her system. "Hell! -Heads up-, ACROSS, we're being blacked out!" "Visual contact!" Priss declared. "Five aircraft bearing one-two-one, heading this way fast. I make four fighters and one heavy - could be a transport, could be a bomber." "The Aerialbots?" Chuck hazarded. "Can't be," Outrun replied. "They're in Iacon. They could - oh SLAG! The VOZDUSHNIKONS!" "The -what-?" Chuck asked. "Ground units, Gamma wing, SCATTER!" Misato yelled. Blackjack growled as he bore down on the ACROSS ground convoy, bomb bay doors swinging open. The high-speed, low-altitude salvo tore apart the street, blasting craters in ferrocrete, felling half-gutted buildings, and generally wreaking havoc. It raised a tremendous cloud of smoke and dust, obscuring the vehicles and personnel as they sprinted hell-bent for cover. Blackjack did not exult; it was not in his nature. He merely powered into the tightest turn he could manage and came back around for an inspection pass. As he approached, the seething smoke in the middle of the street suddenly cleared as if swept away by a giant hand, revealing one of the most peculiar sights the Vozdushnikon commander had ever seen: A human-built Atlas-class assault Destroid in the dark-red and black colors of the Wedge Defense Force 13th Armored Cavalry, the twin triangular "eyes" in its jack-o'-lantern head lit from within with an eerie green light. A moment later, Blackjack's defense computer informed him that he was the subject of a missile lock. Swarms of long-range missiles boiled from twin rows of launch tubes on the Atlas's broad chest, vectoring in random-seeming crazy-quilt patterns coordinated by their guidance modules to make them harder for anti-missile systems to shoot down. As the LRMs converged on Blackjack and engulfed him in small explosions, Misato opened up with Skullomania's forearm-mounted particle projection cannons. Artificial lightning slashed across Blackjack's armor, filling his optic displays briefly with static as the surges overwhelmed his baffles. Startled by the ferocity of the human war machine's assault, the Vozdushnikon leader nearly crashed before regaining control of himself. he remarked to himself. "Mora! Status report!" Misato demanded as she whirled her Atlas to track Blackjack's path. "One Meerkat disabled, light wounds in a few of the open vehicles," Mora replied. "Regroup and get out of here!" "Roger that - keep that bomber off us if you can." Misato looked around, spotted a high building that still looked relatively sturdy, and smiled a little to herself as she flipped one of the switches on the "special" quadrant of her instrument panel. For a moment, Skullomania was obscured by another, smaller cloud of greenish-grey smoke. When it cleared, the Destroid sported what appeared to be a long dark-grey cloak. It was, in fact, more than that; it was a flexible antigravity manifold called a Getter Wing, one of the several pieces of Getter Robo equipment installed in this particular Atlas when it had served as a testbed for the bigger weapon's core technologies. Coupled with the compact but powerful thrusters mounted in Skullomania's legs and back, the Wing made it possible for the hundred-ton Destroid to not only jump - any Destroid with big enough jets could jump - but leap great distances and even fly outright. Now, Misato used its capabilities to propel Skullo to the top of the building she'd spotted, from which vantage point she had a better view of the overall situation. It also made her a better target for Blackjack, who was coming around for another pass, but hey - if he was shooting at her, he wasn't bombing the convoy. "Who did Outrun say these jerks are?" Priss asked. "The Vozdushnikons. Decepticon special forces unit," Sylvie replied. She kicked in a little rudder, slewing Getter Jaguar around a half-fallen spire and away from a burst of cannon fire from the enemy unit on her tail. "They were part of Megatron's strike force that ended up on Earth, but unlike the others, they crashed in what became the Soviet Union. They were rebuilt by Russian technologists in the 1970s and '80s." "Which is why they look like 20th-century Russian jets instead of American ones like the Aerialbots, I take it?" "Right." "Any chance of individual IDs?" "The one that's chasing me goes by Flanker. Your dance partner's name is Fulcrum. Chuck's playing tag with Foxhound. Their leader's called Blackjack, and... hey, where'd Forger go?" The smallest, slowest Vozdushnikon had taken to the ground. He lacked the firepower to mount an effective aerial attack on the convoy, and he wasn't fast or maneuverable enough to contribute to the aerial engagement with the convoy's three strange fightercraft escorts. Instead, Forger had assumed robot mode, the better to stalk the convoy on the ground. He rounded a corner and knew that he'd hit the jackpot. Not only was there one of the convoy's thin-skinned light vehicles back here, but he'd cornered their Autobot escort, too. "Don't move, Autobot," he ordered, leveling his short-range but vicious submachine blaster at Outrun. A sneer crossed his battle-scarred faceplate. "Unless you want to, of course," he added. "Commander Shockwave would have you taken alive, but I would just as soon blow you to slag. Feel free to give me an excuse." Outrun gritted his teeth. "It'll take more than the likes o' you to slag me, you pintsize punk," he replied - and before Forger could even frame a response, Outrun fired his shoulder-mounted missile launcher. Misato noticed the explosion far below, but she didn't have a lot of time to deal with it at that moment. She was too busy playing chicken with a pissed-off Soviet strategic bomber. Short-range missiles pocked Skullomania's armor as Blackjack dove toward his target. He wondered briefly how the ungainly machine had found its way to the roof of the building, but no matter. It simply made for an easier target this way. He jinked out of the path of one PPC blast, caught the edge of the second - and then took a full faceload of LRMs and medium-laser fire for his trouble, having obligingly put himself into the box. "Gaaah!" he remarked, pulling out of his dive. His portside engine felt like it had aspirated some missile debris; it was running, but roughly, and he knew without looking back that he was trailing smoke. That was careless, he told himself disgustedly. You know better than to believe Shockwave's idiotic assertion that organics do not figure into combat calculations. Comrade Megatron would be ashamed of your performance today. As her dance partner veered off, Misato turned her attention to the explosion below. Three different channels' worth of comm traffic were flowing into her ears, but she was in the zone now, and her mind was able to pick out the relevant bits with the ease of long, long experience. On one, the Getter Team were having a difficult time against the lighter Vozdushnikons, but were holding their own. On another, Striker and Spectre platoons were jockeying for position and trying to regroup the convoy into a defensive formation. And on the third, Mora was calling for help... Misato turned and stepped her 'Mech off the roof of the building. /* BT,Trevor Morris "War Machine" _Stealth - Original Soundtrack_ */ Outrun grunted in pain as Forger's energon axe glanced off his forearm and sent his photon rifle flying. He had forgotten when he provoked the diminutive Decepticon into battle, the better to draw his attention away from Mora's vulnerable Meerkat, that Forger was pretty much -insane-, possessed of a berserker fury that transcended the limitations of his scrawny chassis and made him capable of startling feats of prowess in combat. It was a lesson he was painfully re-learning as the furious Vozdushnikon battered at him. He did manage to avoid Forger's next wild blow and knock his axe from his hand, but even in a straight-up hand-to-hand battle, Outrun wasn't sure of his chances. The little bastard was just -crazy-, and that gave him remarkable strength. Strength he used now to grab Outrun and heave him bodily across the alleyway, clean through the weakened wall of the ruined building across the way. Outrun tumbled to a halt against an internal structural support and lay stunned for a moment; through his fuzzy optics he could see the silhouette of his opponent standing in the hole he'd just come in through. "You put up a good fight, Autobot," Forger said through his teeth, "but it's over now. Da svedanya." He drew and raised his blaster. Misato, being a MechWarrior by trade, didn't commonly announce her attacks ahead of time, as was something of an institutional custom in ACROSS - but sometimes, when she got into the spirit of things, she did, and so it was now. Forger had just enough time to turn his head in shock when he heard the seismic CRASH of the Atlas hitting the pavement a hundred yards to his west, followed by the rhythmic hammering of running footfalls, then a curious metallic -scraping- noise. "SKULLO _SLIIIDE_!" How in the Pit can anything that big move that fast? Forger wondered, and then the Atlas's knee slammed into his chest at full tilt and sent him flying clear down the alley, back out into the street. "Ouch," Outrun remarked as he made his way back out to the alley. "Get Mora out of here. Convoy's regrouping 200 yards past that junction," Misato ordered him, pointing. "I'll hold 'em here," she added, sending Skullo at a walk back into the main street. /* 1:00 */ Enough of this, Blackjack thought. he ordered over their shared tactical band. the other four jets replied. The three engaged with the Getter Machines circled around to distract their various pursuers. Forger hauled himself to his feet, shook his head, and then transformed and took to the air. "Hey! Where do you think -you're- going?" Priss asked nobody in particular as she tried to keep up with the Decepticon MiG-29 she had been pursuing. "Come back here!" "Misato, Priss, I'm starting to pick up some increased comm chatter," Sylvie interjected from the cockpit of Getter Jaguar. "I can't devote more to it while I'm chasing this bastard, though," she continued, as the Getter Machine and the MiG-31 slalomed between the buildings near the convoy. /* 1:20 */ The five Decepticon jets, having reached the apogee of their individual flight paths, turned and arrowed back towards the city clearing where the Destroid was protecting the human convoy. They closed in from five directions, Blackjack counting down the seconds to interception. "Colonel, those Decepticons look to be attempting a pincer on your position," Chuck Keith pointed out, his own Getter Machine trying gamely to catch up. "Recommend you find cover before they attack." "Not until the convoy is clear of the combat area, Keith! See if you can keep them from messing up Mora's people further!" Blackjack began to gain altitude rapidly, going almost vertical, the other four Vozdushnikons falling into formation behind and below him. [Why haven't they opened fire?] Misato privately wondered, her fingers itchy on Skullomania's triggers. [They just -flew- -over- the convoy without taking a shot - ] A thought occured to Misato, and her eyes widened as she finally realized what the five Decepticons were attempting. She realized it five seconds too late. /* BT "EDI Arrives" _Stealth - Original Soundtrack_ */ High above the wide intersection, Blackjack transformed in mid-flight to his robot form, the other four members of his squadron already transforming as well. But the process didn't stop there; each Vozdushnikon further changed shape, limbs compacting and compressing, while joints locked in certain places and extended in others. Wings and stabilizers folded back, making room for special connectors to latch and secure onto Blackjack's core. Massive hands extended from the vicinity of Flanker and Forger's exhausts, while what looked to be ancient armored personnel carriers latched around Fulcrum and Foxhound's exhausts to serve as feet. A thick, cylindrical head appeared from between what had been Blackjack's shoulders. The process took mere seconds. For an instant, a titan of Decepticon power and Soviet design hovered above Sonplex District. Then the giant combined robot let gravity take its due course. /* 0:18 */ The Decepticon combiner plummeted from the sky, feet first. It landed in the middle of the intersection with a shuddering boom, shaking the surrounding buildings for several blocks, fracturing the ferrocrete and supporting layers of duranium plating beneath the road surface. It was only twenty meters away from Misato and her Atlas. The giant robot charged forward with a mighty bellow, a massive shield appearing on its left forearm as it swung its full weight behind the body-blow. "Oh SHIIIII - " Misato yelled, instinctively raising her arms to protect her face. Outside, Skullomania did the same thing, the Atlas's arms rising to block the onrushing mass of metal. There was a resounding crash, and the assault Destroid was brutally battered aside, knocked clear off its feet by the combiner's powerful arms and forearm shield. Skullomania went flying across the clearing, tumbling ass-over-bandstand as it plowed straight through several buildings. Misato struggled for control, but every indicator in her cockpit was either yellow or red. Finally, the Atlas came to a halt, four blocks away, and did not get up. The three Getter Machines rapidly circled about, their pilots having been taken by surprise by the sudden combination maneuver on the part of the attacking Decepticons. "Look at the -size- of that thing!" Chuck blurted out, despite himself. From their vantage point, they could see that the combiner was easily twice as tall as the Atlas it had bludgeoned, and much more massive. "Cut the chatter, Three," Priss curtly replied, her voice colder than normal. "Syl, try to get back in touch with Misato. Chuck, run interference for the convoy. Mora, get your men OUT OF THERE!" "Aw, hell, this isn't good," Outrun said as he hauled himself to his feet. Mora hung out the window of her Meerkat and yelled to him, "Can you get through to Autobase?" Outrun shook his head. "Comms are jammed - one of the V-kons has major ECM capabilities, and Soyuz inherits them when they merge. I'm gonna have to go for help the old-fashioned way! Keep your heads down! I'll be back just as fast as I can!" So saying, he transformed and streaked away, his jet exhaust booming in the metallic canyons of Sonplex as he made for the Autobot lines just as fast as he knew how. /* 0:45 */ The most powerful target eliminated, Soyuz turned his visored optics towards the ground convoy. Foolish, uncoordinated organics! Their wills were not unified, unable to truly grasp their potential if they could just give themselves to the collective. It was almost a pity that he would have to destroy them. "PAWNS OF THE CAPITALIST STATE! PREPARE TO FACE THE MIGHT OF *SOYUZ*!!" Soyuz raised his right arm, the energy cannon mounted between the fins of Flanker's merged legs already charged up, and opened fire. /* 1:00 */ The convoy responded in good order, regrouping to make best use of its armor and protect the softer-sided vehicles. The Napoleon-class minitanks returned fire, but their short cannons were better-suited to street fights against battlemovers and other light tanks, and their antiaircraft guns were of no use at all against Soyuz's armor. The massive Decepticon laughed mockingly at their efforts to stop him. "ACROSS Six, this is Getter Jaguar, come in," Sylvie called, swooping her craft - the swiftest of the Getter Machines - low over the crumpled form of the Atlas. Skullomania lay half-sprawled against the dented remains of a low retaining wall, one arm flung up over the wall like a drunk's hooked on the back of a sofa, legs splayed out in front, head and free arm drooping. Smoke or steam - Sylvie couldn't be sure which - rose from the joints of its torso armor. For a moment only static answered Sylvie's calls; then it cleared fractionally and the heavily-flanged voice of Misato replied, " - cking hell. Sylvie, do you copy?" "Three by five, Misato, you're on narrowband digital. What's your status?" "I'm OK. Skullo's not feeling so hot, though. Main reactor's offline - I'm trying for a restart but I can't tell if the capacitors are charging. Only my LOS transmitter is working and I've got no sensors. Tell Priss it's her game until I can get my boy back on his feet." "Copy that, Six. Jaguar out." Sylvie thumbed her comm system to another band and announced, "Eagle, Six is alive but has no sensors. Her comm is LOS-only. She says it's your game." /* 1:30 */ "Roger, understood," Priss's voice replied. "Getter Team, this is Getter Eagle. Regroup and prepare for attack run." Chuck launched a spread of heavy missiles at Soyuz, driving him back. The three Getter Machines vectored up and away from the convoy, falling into a delta formation with the scarlet dart of Getter Eagle in the lead. "Jaguar, target analysis," Priss ordered tersely. "Vozdushnikon gestalt Soyuz - Decepticon combiner, type-five," Sylvie replied. "Similar to Superion in unit composition and overall capability. Unconfirmed reports indicate nuclear armaments." "Meaning we'll never take him like this," Priss said. "Well, kids, you know what happens next, don't you?" "What?!" Chuck Keith blurted. "But we haven't even tried this under controlled conditions! You two haven't been behind real controls in two years!" "Yeah, well, it's like riding a bike," Priss replied with a calm she was surprised to feel. Then she added in a quieter, slightly wry voice, "A big, hulking, Getter-ray-powered bike that's flying at 500 miles an hour and has some stability problems... " "Lieutenant, I -really- don't think - " Chuck said. "That's good, 'cause we don't have time for it," Priss replied. Then she reached to one side of her panel, grabbed a lever, yanked it down, and yelled, "CHANGE: - " /* BT & Trevor Morris "Lightning Strike" _Stealth: Original Soundtrack_ */ Cursing, Chuck yanked a last iota of slack out of his seat harness and held onto his controls as his Getter Machine answered the combination signal radiating from Getter Eagle's command system. Ahead of him, Getter Jaguar slid smoothly into position as the three aerocraft moved from delta to train formation. Then Jaguar's exhausts flamed out and Chuck felt his own ride's thrusters spool up - and things began to happen very fast indeed. He'd ridden this change out hundreds of times in simulations, but never live. Priss and Sylvie had done it all before, and under some very difficult conditions, but not recently. Even with the autopilots' help, it was the trickiest, most dangerous moment in Getter Robo operations. A slight miscalculation on the part of one of the pilots could make the difference between a smooth combination and a fiery wreck. A fiery wreck was just what Soyuz was expecting when he saw the three craft's formation begin to telescope. The fools, the combined Decepticon thought. They cannot even carry out simple aerial attack maneuvers. The ineluctability of Socialism's eventual victory has terrified them so much that they have defeated -themselves-. Thus ever to the bourgeois running - - what? " - GETTER ONE!" There was no fire - just the brilliant green light of Getter rays flashing over the shifting, almost -flowing-, armored surfaces of the three Getter Machines as they merged together into a single powerful whole. This transformation was entirely alien to the expectations of a Cybertronian like Soyuz, who expected everything to work according to basic mechanical and physical principles. Getter rays had the power, on a limited level, to warp reality, and the three Getter Machines' merging was a product of their alchemy, nanotechno- logical wizardry, and some very esoteric materials science, rather than straightforward mechanical engineering. Therefore, Soyuz's somewhat limited brain didn't really comprehend what the three were becoming until it plowed into him, shoulder-first, at 400 miles an hour. "UNGH!" Soyuz grunted, his foghorn voice almost buried in the metallic crash of the collision. Knocked off-balance, the Soviet titan stumbled. His assailant took advantage, smashing a fist across his faceplate and sending him sprawling to the fractured ground. Soyuz rolled with the blow and came up balanced, ready to meet his attacker on even terms. He had never seen anything like what the three aerocraft did to -become- this foe, but the foe itself seemed normal enough: a colossal red-and-white robot with a twin-horned head and glowering yellow optics, roughly Soyuz's own size. One of Blackjack's datatracks became available - he had read about this machine in a military journal. It was, the track informed Soyuz, a human-piloted robot weapon called "Getter Robo". There was more information, but Soyuz wasn't inclined to stand there doing nothing for the two milliseconds it would have taken him to access the whole track. Besides, he had everything he needed right in front of him. This "Getter Robo" was the tool of the capitalist- imperialist human group called the International Police, who were allies of the bourgeois Autobots - which made destroying it Soyuz's highest priority. The mega-Decepticon smiled cruelly. So much the better. Soyuz reached behind his back and drew his energon sickle, relishing the harsh crackle and glow of the weapon's blade as it carved the very molecules of the air itself, then lunged. /* 1:00 */ Priss worked the controls of Getter-1 as though she'd never left the cockpit, fading back from Soyuz's first slash, then parrying a second by smacking the Decepticon's arm away. Soyuz grunted with annoyance and tried to bash Getter-1 with his shield. Again Priss avoided the blow, but the dodge left her open for another sickle attack. "Getter TOMAHAWK!" she ordered, and Getter-1's voice- activated weapons selection system responded instantly. There was another flash of green light, and then Soyuz's orange-glowing energon blade crashed down not on Getter-1's chest armor, but instead the brilliant green edge of an axe-shaped weapon clenched firmly in the red-and-white machine's fist. Soyuz snarled and made to pull the weapon free, but before he could do so, Getter-1 rocked back and kicked the combiner square in the midriff, sending him crashing back against a building. His grip on the sickle broke; the weapon clanged to the street, its blade going dark. Soyuz recovered instantly, lunging out of the wrecked building and body-checking Getter-1. Priss bit back an oath and kept hold of her controls, working her feet to keep Getter-1 upright. "He outweighs us by about ten percent," Sylvie advised her. "I noticed," Priss replied, feinting with the Tomahawk to keep the monstrous Decepticon at bay. Soyuz dodged the blow, then caught Priss's attempted counterattack on his shield. The Getter-charged blade bit deep into the metal. Soyuz bared his metal teeth in a nastily triumphant grin and wrenched the shield sideways, pulling the axe from Getter-1's grip. Priss responded by powering in for a body blow of her own, sending Soyuz smashing back into the ruined building again. "I WILL CRUSH YOU WITH THE POWER OF THE SOVIET WILL!" Soyuz roared, springing up with deceptive speed and seizing Getter-1 in a bear-hug. "Holy hell!" Chuck blurted as structural stress alarms started going off in all three Getter Machine cockpits. Priss tried a couple of hold escapes, but Soyuz was just too strong - there was no way Getter-1 was going to be able to break his hold. Which didn't mean they had no means of escape. "Hell with this," she snapped, slamming up the lever she'd earlier pulled down. "OPEN GET!" Soyuz felt the frame of his adversary quiver in his grasp and grinned ferally, doubling his efforts. Another weakling crushed by the indomitable will of the people! All that would remain would be to pick its fleshy pilots from the tangled wreckage of their mount and punish them for having the temerity to challenge a true mechanoid - - what? Suddenly it was like trying to hold onto the pieces of an exploding bomb. The furious heat of thrusterfire washed over Soyuz, causing him to reel back and raise his hands to shield his optics, as Getter-1 disintegrated into its three components, each of which headed for the sky with firewalled throttles. "I don't think he liked that," Sylvie observed, watching in her rearview scanner as the colossal Decepticon roared and batted green-tinged flames away from his face. "Well, he'll like the next part even less," Priss observed. "You got -that- right," Sylvie replied, yanking down a control lever. "CHANGE: GETTER TWO!" Misato got Skullomania's main reactor restarted - and thus its sensor systems back online - just in time to see the spindly white-armored form of Getter-2 perform a high-speed diving attack on Soyuz, golden drill-arm shimmering in the district's low streetlights. The blow raised a cacophony of metallic noises and a spray of sparks from the Decepticon's armor, but didn't do much harm. Roaring in fury, Soyuz seized the high-speed Getter Robo with both his massive hands, leaped into the air, and executed a piledriving throw that sent Getter-2 crashing clean through the roof of a nearby building. The building collapsed, burying Getter-2 completely with rubble. Laughing, Soyuz leveled his right arm, aiming the tank-turret-shaped cannon mounted there into the rubble. The weapon's muzzle began to glow. "Not today, bucko," Misato muttered, thumbing one of her weapon controls. Even without the many modifications that made Skullomania supreme among assault Destroids, the Atlas was feared throughout the galaxy for its firepower, and the core of that firepower was the awesome weapon that took up most of the right-hand third of its torso. In a galaxy full of beam weapons, directed energy explosives, and other such exotics, all those truly well-informed on military matters still felt a healthy respect for the Defiance Industries Hunter Class-20 autocannon. Soyuz's whole superstructure was rocked by the blast as the Hunter's 200-millimeter shell smashed into his energy cannon, crushing its turret body. The weapon misfired, blowing itself clean off Soyuz's arm. "GAAAH!" Soyuz roared, whirling. "You DARE! I do not know how you survived my first assault, little 'Mech, but I will make you regret ever getting up!" "Sylv? Where are we?" Priss asked. "Approximate depth 200 feet," Sylvie replied. "I'm vectoring for the surface - if I've calculated this right we'll come up not far from that derelict airwatch tower." "And if you haven't?" "Well, Cybertron hasn't got natural gas pockets, so how bad could it be?" "No, it's got large natural gas -tanks-." "Hey, if there was working energy storage in this sector, it wouldn't be abandoned." "Sylvie, I have an idea," Chuck put in. "Priss, do you trust me?" The redhead blinked, brought up short by Keith's request - whether because he had spoken up in the first place, or because he'd addressed them by their first names, she couldn't say. "Wha - ?" Chuck's voice was level and intent. "Priss, -do- -you- -trust- -me-?" For a moment, Priss hesitated. Her impression of Chuck's abilities hadn't been the best so far, even if his service record stated otherwise. There had been the defense and crash landing of the Philip Marlowe for one, and while he had performed well during that crisis, it hadn't been stellar, either. But they were currently underground while Misato and Soyuz duked it out above, they were committed to helping their allies and friends, and they were the only ones who could do so. When put that way, what other response could she have? "I trust you, Chuck." "Thanks." There was the hint of a smile in his voice, as he cried out, "Sylvie, get us airborne!" The Atlas-class assault Destroid was well-known to Soyuz's datatracks. He and his fellow Vozdushnikons had fought Atlases on dozens of occasions. The skull-headed 'Mechs were considered battlefield terrors by the humans; they were among the largest, most powerful machines commonly fielded in human conflicts. Human troops considered them so threatening that some would break and flee at the sight of them. They were indeed war machines worthy of respect, as human-built engines of destruction went. They had considerable firepower and sturdy armor, and were generally well-engineered. They had certain drawbacks, however. They were slow and rather clumsy, even by the standards of Destroids, which generally couldn't match the agility of similarly-sized Transformers. Worse, they had no aerial mobility at all - couldn't even jump. Soyuz considered them a negligible threat. This one... ... this one was different. For one thing, Soyuz rarely saw human-piloted mecha wearing -capes-, and this Atlas had one, long and grey. For another, it could not only jump, it could -leap-, getting impressive distances out of thrusters that looked too tiny to move its metallic bulk in any decent gravity well. For a third, it was -fast-, in the air and on the ground, much faster than any Atlas Soyuz had ever faced before. He might almost have taken it for a Transformer, so quick and fluid were its actions and reactions, and not an organic- piloted mecha at all. Still, the ending of the conflict was never in doubt. For all its surprising speed and agility, it was still only a Destroid, and though its main gun was a force to be respected, it seemed to have little in the way of other weapons. The PPC hardpoints on its forearms were smashed, casualties of Soyuz's initial shield charge. Its remaining beam weapons were too light to do much harm to Soyuz's armor, and its occasional salvos of long-range missiles did little but annoy the Decepticon giant. It was only a matter of time before the Destroid's weapons ran out of ammunition, or its pilot ran out of endurance, and then the day would belong to Soyuz. For Misato's part, she was surprised she was doing as well as she was. Losing her PPCs hadn't been a good way to start the day, and the medium lasers she had left weren't doing much good. Worse, Skullo had some gyro damage that kept her from fully exploiting his Getter Wing flight capability and reduced her to jumping around. All the same, she wasn't out of tricks. She'd spent too long as a groundpounder, first in Riflemen, then in Warhammers, to have forgotten what it was like to fight in a 'Mech that couldn't even jump, let alone fly. She used the terrain to her advantage, keeping burned-out buildings and heaps of rubble between herself and Soyuz as much as possible, then dashing or leaping between them and firing at him as she went. "Damn that shield!" she muttered as a salvo from her autocannon splashed harmlessly from Soyuz's sword-and-star-emblazoned barrier. The ammunition counter for the weapon began to flash - only three rounds left. Skullomania's chassis vibrated palpably as the autoloader rammed another charge into the cannon's breech and locked it down. She skidded behind a half-fallen wall and dropped Skullo to one knee as a burst of fire from Soyuz's secondary cannons blazed by overhead. Surveying the tactical map, Misato frowned thoughtfully, then smiled a little. "Gotcha," she murmured. Thumbing a switch, she vented a cloud of greenish steam from Skullo's cooling system for cover, then set the 'Mech's powerful actuators and leaped. Soyuz caught on, tried to track the Atlas's trajectory and blow it out of the air, but it was too fast - Misato twisted her ride's torso in mid-air, dropped her crosshairs onto her chosen target, and let fly a full salvo of her remaining weapons. A wave of heat swept through the cockpit, but it was nothing she wasn't used to by now; with the particle cannons out of commission, it wasn't getting nearly as hot in there as it normally did in a fight this intense. And piloting Skullo was nothing compared to the sauna treatment that was a day's work in one of the old 3R-series Warhammers... She pushed the nostalgia out of her head, finished the aerial twist, and grounded Skullo hard, dropping to one knee again and using one of the 'Mech's big hands to prevent a complete rollover. A hundred yards away, a red-orange explosion erupted from the base of the ruined airwatch tower - several yards behind and to the left of Soyuz. "Hah! Your marksmanship is pathetic!" Soyuz spat. "You missed me by a -mile-." "I wasn't aiming at YOU, loudmouth," Misato replied. The triumphant grin on Soyuz's face faded at the sound of a metallic creaking sound behind him. He whirled - just in time for the collapsing tower to hit him square in the face. Roaring with rage, the combined Decepticon was bowled over backward and pinned to the ground. "That ought to keep you busy for a while," Misato remarked to herself. She got Skullo upright again and aimed the 'Mech's head-mounted parabolic antenna toward the last known position of the convoy. "Convoy One, this is ACROSS Six, do you read? ACROSS Six to Convoy One, come in. Mora? Can you hear me? Hell." She shook her head and switched the comm system to a different band. Restarting the GS-Ride reactor had given her weapons and sensors back, but apparently it hadn't done anything for her broadcast comms. A grinding metallic noise got her attention. Turning, she saw Soyuz finish shoving the wrecked tower aside and start climbing to his feet, and he did -not- look happy. "... aw, hell no," Misato muttered. She eyed her GS-Ride energy levels - still too low to do anything creative with - and her weapons status indicators. Two more rounds for the AC/20... a few more LRM salvos... lasers too light to do much harm to a monster like Soyuz unless she happened to hit him in an optic or joint. Well, OK then. "You have -had- your best shot, little one," Soyuz said through gritted teeth. "Now it is your turn to be crushed - by the WILL OF THE WORKERS!" [Does this guy even know what half of the rhetoric he's spouting -means-?] Misato wondered as she looked around for her next piece of cover. A high-pitched buzzing, grinding sound abruptly cut across battlefield. Soyuz turned to try and pinpoint the source; Misato took advantage of his change in focus to get some extra much-needed distance from the Soviet Decepticon. In moments the source of the sound became obvious, as the white-armored, gold-tipped form of Getter-2 launched itself out of the rubble several blocks away, arrowing upwards into the twilight Cybertron sky. Soyuz turned to face his primary opponent, his optics narrowing as he tracked the flightpath of the nimble mecha. Hah! Had the pilots of the human robot learned NOTHING? Surely this was a fool's gambit, doomed to failure! Even with some of Soyuz's most formidable armaments out of commission, the spindly mecha would be a piece of baklava to defeat, crumbling like pastry in his massive hands. He grinned and began to charge forward, his massive arms spread to catch the now-descending Getter-2. Nearby, Misato was having similar thoughts (though without the references to dessert). She heard Sylvie's voice over her LOS connection as she requested Getter separation, and watched as Getter-2 split into its component fighters and regroup overhead. "Whatever you're planning next, you'd better pull it off soon, Priss," Misato muttered to herself, even as she tried to obtain a firing lock on the back of the massive combiner. Now that Getter Robo had appeared on the scene again, Soyuz had seemed to forget about her, but Misato knew, as she watched the Getter Machines move back into train formation, that he could remember her at any moment - and she wasn't sure how many tricks she had left to keep him at bay. Then she realized: [Wait a minute, that's the formation for - ] She was brought up short when it was not Priss Morgan's voice that gave the next order. Inside his cockpit, Chuck Keith grabbed the lever next to his console, and yanked it down. "CHANGE: GETTER THREE!" /* BT "The Vertical Drop" _Stealth - Original Soundtrack_ */ Once again, green energy flowed over the three fighters as components and armor shifted and reshaped to their pilot's wills. By now, Soyuz had become somewhat familiar with the process, and braced himself as he ran, expecting to soon clash against the red-and-white winged mecha he had first fought against. He didn't expect at all what came next. Each form of Getter Robo mirrored, in one way or another, the capabilities of the lead Getter Machine which triggered the change. Getter-1 was a good all-around kaiju-class mecha, much like Getter Eagle was a solid, versatile aerospace superiority fighter. Getter-2 wasn't particularly strong, but it was fleet and nimble, like Getter Jaguar, which was a lightly-armed high-velocity interceptor. Getter-3 was neither. Its primary craft was Getter Bear, the slowest and sturdiest of the three Getter Machines - a high-capacity surface-attack bomber. Getter-3 was shorter and more compact than the other two Getter Robo forms, its mass concentrated into a chunky torso, squat turret head, and brawny arms perched centaur-like at the front of a quad-tracked all-terrain mover. It didn't have the range of weapons and attacks available to Getter-1, nor did it have the speed of Getter-2. It wasn't even capable of -flight-, or for that matter, the ability to walk, seeing as it lacked legs. What it -did- have was Sheer Brute Force. Riding the momentum of the in-flight transformation, Getter-3 crashed to the ground, making the rubble bounce for miles around. Misato scrambled for her controls to keep her Atlas balanced. Even Soyuz was forced to steady himself. Immediately, Getter-3 lurched forward, its massive underbody treads raising sprays of debris at full throttle, and lifted its arms to protect its pilot's cockpits. Before the mega-Decepticon had fully registered the change, the gold, grey, and green mecha slammed head-on against Soyuz's torso, driving it back. It didn't stop there, either. Much to Soyuz's surprise, Getter-3 pressed harder. Spalled duranium and shattered ferrocrete chunks shot away from its treads as the human-piloted titan pressed the Cybertronian giant inexorably towards a crevasse that had opened up during the latter's earlier crash-landing. Soyuz grimaced. This was impossible, inconceivable! No organic-made mecha should have the ability to challenge Soyuz on his own terms! Now was the time to show them the folly of their ways - no matter what fancy abilities his opponents may have shown, they could not - would not! - triumph over his combined will! With a flaring of red optics behind his wrap-around visor, Soyuz got his arms free and braced them against Getter Three's own torso and arms. His feet plowed deep trenches into the terrain, slowing, and then halting, Getter Robo's advance. Warnings began to bleat in the individual Getter Machine cockpits as the Decepticon combiner began to push Getter-3 back. "Chuck, I don't think this is going to work," Sylvie said. "Our mass is more concentrated in this form, but he still outweighs us. If we're not careful, he might try to go for the linkages. We could try separation aga - " "No, Syl," Priss interrupted from one of Sylvie's side displays, her own expression and emotions unreadable. "Let him try. This is his chance, we need to back him up." Keith didn't reply; he was too focused on the controls of Getter-3. Status indicators flashed and blinked, reflecting from his glasses. If he was right, in just a few moments, it'd be time to pull off the next phase. If not, they'd be in a world of hurt before they died. With a snarl on his metal lips, Soyuz's powerful hands forced themselves beneath Getter-3's arms. Metal screamed against metal as he gained purchase; and then to the surprise of nearly everybody observing the battle, the mega-Decepticon began to lift the kaiju-sized mecha off its still-spinning treads. "That's it, you big dumb bastard," Chuck muttered. "Pick me up... " Soyuz roared as he grabbed the torso of Getter-3, still lifting, and bellowed as he squeezed. "I - WILL - BREAK - YOU!!!" Eyes narrowed, Chuck pushed down on two triggers simultaneously, crying out (even though he hadn't planned to), "Capitalist CRUSH!" Immediately, Getter-3's forearms, which had been shoved aside as Soyuz had begun to grapple beneath them, launched outwards on fountains of green flame, yet remained connected to the upper arms by thick, segmented metal tentacles. They rocketed and spun around the two combatants, entangling Soyuz in a web of gleaming, reticulated metal. "Wha-?" Soyuz's optics widened with surprise, fury, and pain. "You fools! You are MAD! What - nnnngh - do you hope to accomplish?!" Getter-3's spiraling hands finally found purchase, grabbing onto the thrusters that formed both Blackjack and Soyuz's back. Mighty motors within Getter-3's shoulders started trying to retract the fists, causing the whole tangled assemblage to constrict with incredible force. Stress lines began appearing in Soyuz's armor panels wherever Getter-3's tentacles crossed over them. Corners popped up as plates began to buckle. The combiner tried to break free of the constricting tentacles, but was only pulled closer to Getter-3's torso and head. Getter-3's optics blazed green as it stared its foe straight in the face. Cracks spread across Soyuz's visor. "-This-," Chuck Keith's voice echoed out of Getter Robo's PA speakers. "MISSILE HURRICANE!" /* 1:20 */ Some distance away, beneath the cover of an undamaged bridge tunnel, Mora Bascht winced and tore her eyes away from the binoculars she had been using to observe the battle. The light from the launch and detonation of Getter-3's missile payload, sufficent to take down any midsized capital ship you could care to name, had totally overloaded the macrobinoculars' flash compensators. She grimaced and rubbed her eyes to clear them. A massive storm of smoke and debris filled the clearing, a red and gold roiling fireball lifting upwards into the sky as it formed a mushroom cloud. This is -bad-, Mora reflected. Given what Getter Robo's been through so far, it - Her further worried thoughts were interrupted as a shape abruptly shifted and surged through the ground-level dust cloud. "LOOK!" one of the techs cried out, and Mora looked at where he was pointing. /* 1:33 */ A massive rounded shape lurched its way out of the debris field. Trailing smoke and steam, with scorch marks, dings, and multiple microfractures scoring its gold and grey hull - but with both arms fully retracted and intact - Getter-3 emerged from the haze like a leviathan surfacing from the depths of the ocean. A cheer went up from the ACROSS survivors as the Getter Robo backed away from the detonation site and came to a halt. "Looks like the kid pulled through," she grinned, watching the sight proudly. "Are - we still alive?" Sylvie asked, opening her eyes once the spots had cleared from them. "Looks that way," Priss stated blandly. "We probably gave Misato a heart attack with that point-blank salvo, though." "Um, sorry 'bout that," Chuck replied. "But I figured one of the old aerial drop Guntank charges would catch him off-guard." "That it did," Misato's voice cut in. "Let's just hope it actually -did- something to him, and not just messed up his paint job." "Well, we'll know in a moment - the smoke's clearing," Sylvie announced. "Holy -shit-, look at -that-!" Smoke and haze blew across the remains of the intersection, gradually clearing, revealing a hunched-over shape in the middle of the detonation crater. Details became more visible, and it quickly became clear that Soyuz had fared the worse of the two combatants. Sparking rents had opened up in several places on his outer armor; the wings on his limbs had been blasted apart, leaving only twisted stumps in their place. He was resting on one knee, supporting himself with one outstretched arm to prevent himself from falling face-first to the ground entirely. As the members of ACROSS watched, there was a squealing sound of tearing metal, and the wide winged emblem which served as Soyuz's chestplate ripped free. It crashed to the ground, the red-and- gold star, hammer, and sickle in the center shattering on impact. Priss whistled. Any doubts she may have had at one point about Chuck Keith's suitability for the team had been totally erased from her mind. "Okay. I'm -impressed-." Coincidentally, so was Soyuz. But whereas Priss's being impressed indicated her rising opinion of her teamate, Soyuz's only further fueled his ire. Servos grinding, optics narrowed behind the fractures that had spread across his face visor, Soyuz forced himself to his feet. "Foolish capitalist-imperialist humans!" his vocoder ground out as he slowly steadied himself. "You think YOU are the ONLY ones with rockets? We will BURY YOU!" Sylvie blanched. "Oh, CRAP," she said. Soyuz's optics locked onto Getter-3's form, forming a targeting solution. Interlocks were released, commands were routed, all preparing for the launch of the nuclear missiles that Soyuz carried as a weapon of last resort. It came as a shock when his internal computer informed him dispassionately, "Kh-55 ALCM missile load failure. Kh-15P SRAM missile load failure. Subspace routing system damaged. Missile load failure. Missile launch: impossible." "... or not?" Sylvie trailed off as she saw the enemy combiner visibly shake his head in frustration. Chuck grinned. "Got 'im." He checked his own status board. "But I'm tapped out unless you want to wrassle him some more." Priss grinned nastily. "Not necessary, thank you, Sergeant Keith," she said. "Open get!" The three aerocraft rocketed skyward again. Soyuz could only grind his steel teeth in frustration. None of his components, with the possible but not definite exception of Blackjack, could fly in this condition; flight in the -combined- form was out of the question. With his mightiest weapons disabled and his superstructure ravaged, he had taken a worse beating than he had faced in decades, perhaps centuries. No, not since his last head-to-head slugfest with Omega Supreme had Soyuz absorbed such a pounding. But he wasn't finished yet. He still had his orders. The convoy was to be destroyed. He'd gotten so caught up in his fury against its defenders that he'd largely ignored it, thinking he could mop it up at his leisure - but that battle plan was no longer sound. So the plan would have to be changed. It took him only a moment to locate the convoy with Foxhound's powerful search radar; even against this much ground clutter, they couldn't hide from the sensors of the Vozdushnikons' Dog of War. Soyuz began making purposefully toward his new target, exuding a sort of inexorable terror despite his badly-mauled appearance and reduced capabilities. "Oh, hell," Misato said. "Come on, come on," she urged her GS-Ride output indicator, but it remained stubbornly below the green line. A moment later, a scarlet-and-white shape dropped from the sky to land squarely in Soyuz's path, its massive arms folded across its green-paneled chest. Baleful yellow optics glared the Decepticon to a halt with sheer presence, as if asking, Just where do you think YOU'RE going? Soyuz snarled, his objectives forgotten as his one-track mind was once again suffused with fury. Spying his energon sickle lying forgotten amid some rubble, he snatched it up and charged, roaring. Getter-1 slipped out of the path of his first wild strike, dodging to Soyuz's left, and one of its scarlet-armored hands flashed out. There was a metallic tearing noise as Getter-1 seized hold of its lost tomahawk and wrenched it from Soyuz's shield, nearly spinning the Decepticon around before the two pieces parted. The two massive machines fenced for a few moments, sparks flying from the clashing edges of their weapons, before Soyuz tried to interpose his shield again - but Priss's blood was up now, and she wasn't going to put up with that trick twice. "DOUBLE TOMAHAWK!" she roared. The Tomahawk's handle flowed, lengthening to nearly Getter-1's full height, and a second blade popped out of its head as the red-and-white robot reared back for an all-out two-handed attack. Green fire trailed from the axe's blade edges, drawing a crackling double spiral in the air as Priss brought it down with all the machine's power - power that was boosted by her wrath. The impact drove Soyuz to his knees and, with a sound like a bomb going off, shattered his shield, sending pieces flying in all directions. The Decepticon cried out in a combination of shock and pain as the blade bit deep into his forearm, dealing a blow that would leave Forger crippled if the Vozdushnikons separated. Desperate, Soyuz slashed at Getter-1's midsection with his sickle, but Priss let go of the Hawk with one hand to slap the blow away, then kicked Soyuz high in the chest, wrenching the axe free and sending the combiner head-over-heels. Soyuz crashed into the side of an abandoned residence block, cratering the wall, and half-stood, half-lay there for several seconds, gathering his wits. What power! The human-built machine had shown little more than -half- the strength it was now exhibiting the first time it had challenged Soyuz in this form. Misato saw it too, but she had the sensors and training to understand what was really happening. Getter Robo's Getter-ray emissions were climbing the scale, the combined machine's three GS-Ride power cores resonating with each other to boost the whole assembly's power exponentially. It was a phenomenon peculiar to Getter-ray energy sources, one that seemed keyed to the mental and emotional states of the pilots - and it resonated with Skullomania's GS-Ride reactor as well, causing the output indicator to register in the green zone for the first time since the Destroid's involuntary shutdown. All of which meant that the same thought was passing through the minds of all five combatants: Time to finish this. Soyuz gathered all his strength for one last attack. The human-made machine was impressive, but it was not invincible. Being a combined mecha himself, Soyuz had an eye for the structural integrity of combiners - one of his hobbies when fighting Autobot combination teams was to attack their linkages and pull them apart, demonstrating the lack of true teamwork inherent in the capitalist-imperialist system - and he could tell that Getter-1 was not as invincible as it looked. Despite its power, it had taken a beating in this fight as well, especially when it was caught in its own storm of missiles. There were weak points, and Soyuz's keen eyes were seeking them out. He could yet win this if he could get close enough - all it would require was one massive last-ditch effort, and that kind of thing was a Soviet specialty. Getter-1 seemed to be waiting for him as he pushed himself away from the building and started his charge. Roaring in challenge, he drove himself harder, faster, feeling the pounding on his own abused linkages as he strove to - - what? "-Getter BEAM-!" Misato cried, thumbing one of her previously dark special-weapons controls. Deep within Skullomania, the GS-Ride core responded, dumping raw Getter rays into a collector that fed a pair of emitters concealed in the Destroid's "eye sockets". The energy streamed forth, merging a few yards in front of Skullo's head into a single beam that lashed across the space separating the two and tore into Soyuz's body near the hip joints. The Decepticon stumbled, losing control of his legs, and started to fall headlong - and then Priss's voice echoed Misato's: "GETTER BEEEEAM!" Getter-1's much more powerful single Getter Beam burst forth from the machine's forehead and punched clean through Soyuz's upper chest, high and to the left, spraying streamers and fragments of molten metal and ferroceramic clear back to the cratered residence block. Soyuz didn't even cry out; he merely finished his headlong fall. By the time he hit the ground, he had broken up into his five components. Foxhound came back to himself from the dreamlike nowhere of combination to find his world full of pain. He knelt on the ground, surrounded by smoke and the stink of burned metal and circuitry, unable to rise. Sparks skittered over his armor from torn internal systems. "Warning," his internal computer announced. "Systems damage critical. Weapons offline. Flight systems offline. Sensors offline. Energy reserves at 05.51 percent. Further expenditure may result in permanent damage or spark loss." Slowly, he pulled himself together and raised his head to see Skullomania and Getter-1 standing over him. He looked around and saw his wingmates scattered around him like broken toys - Forger with a leg sliced clean off, Blackjack terribly wounded, Fulcrum sprawled in an unnatural position, Flanker with a burned and twisted stump where his right arm belonged. All were in stasis lock. Nichevo, he thought, and raised his hands slowly. "In the name of Decepticon Aerial Strike Force Seven, the Vozdushnikons," he said, his voice soaked with static and resignation, "I surrender." Getter-1 looked at Skullomania. Mirroring its pilot's sentiments, the Atlas rather comically shrugged, then turned to Foxhound and said tinnily in Misato's amplified voice, "Uh... OK, good. Just stay right where you are." Then, on a private band, she asked Priss, "What the hell do we do with them?" "Beats me," Priss replied. "You're the commander. What's your equipment status?" "Comms are still LOS-only, but everything else seems to be working, apart from my PPCs. I'm nearly out of ammo and my main gyro's a little squirrelly, but nothing I can't handle on the ground." "I see why your broadcast comms are out, your high-gain antenna's gone. Sylv can mediate telecom." "Hm. Well, Mora can fix it later. How are you guys holding up?" "We're OK as Getter-1, but the individual GMs are a mess," Sylvie answered. "I'm not sure we even dare try to separate again. That last combination was rocky as hell." "Yeah, well, good work, you guys. It's not every lance that can take on a combiner and win. Patch me through to the convoy, will you?" A few minutes later, Outrun returned with the reinforcements he'd promised - a small but heavily-armed Autobot strike force, coming in hot and heavy on the wake of his jet exhaust. In the lead was a bright red warrior who was visibly dismayed to find the fight over before he arrived. "Hah!" said Smokescreen as he assumed robot mode alongside his friend. "Told you we wouldn't have to do anything." "Aw, -man-," Sideswipe complained. "They didn't even save me -one-." "Sorry, Sideswipe," Misato said. "They were sort of insistent that we fight them all at once." Sideswipe sighed and flipped open his wristcom. "Sideswipe to Autobase." A crackle of static emanated from the wristcom's speaker, then cleared as the transmitter on the other end boosted the signal. "Prowl here, go ahead, Sideswipe. What's the situation?" "The situation is, ACROSS completely -trashed- the Vozdushnikons. We're gonna need heavy lift medevac to get them out of here. Blackjack's in at least three pieces that I can see." "... ah," said Prowl. Misato stifled a giggle, picturing his face. Then, businesslike as always, the Autobot officer went on, "Very well; I'm dispatching Overload to your location. ETA four-five minutes. What's ACROSS's status?" Sylvie patched Misato into Sideswipe's comm band. "All units operational," Misato said, "but we'll need to borrow some shop space once we've got our tech people to safety. Our heavy assets are going to require quite a bit of repair and refit." Prowl nodded. "Understood. We'll have a full repair bay at your disposal when you reach Iacon. Good work, Colonel. Autobase out." Sideswipe folded up his wristcom, sat down on a chunk of rubble, and aimed his flare rifle at Foxhound in a neighborly kind of way. "What's the matter, 'Con?" he asked. "Cat got your tongue? I thought you Russkiecons liked to talk about your inevitable victory." Foxhound regarded him wearily for a moment. "You can put your arms down," Sideswipe added. Foxhound rearranged himself, going from kneeling to sitting, elbows propped on knees, the very picture of beaten exhaustion. "Yes," he said in a quiet voice, "our ultimate victory is assured. At the moment, though, you would seem to have the advantage, Autobot," he added dryly. "Even if you were... what's the phrase? Late for the party." Sideswipe snorted, grinning. "Well, better late than never. Don't you worry, we'll treat you right. Better than your side would treat us. Hell, we'll even repair your wounded. That's just the kind of guys we are." Foxhound gave him a level look for a moment, then turned his head away and said, "That is why you will eventually fail." Sideswipe scowled and said nothing. You try to be nice to a fella... The Autobots and Skullomania had begun making progress clearing away some of the larger chunks of debris created by the battle when the sound of high-power turbines cut across the sound of rubble being smashed. Sylvie, within her cockpit inside the still-merged Getter-1, checked her displays, let out a sigh of relief, and activated the PA speakers. "Guys, we've got an incoming friendly, according to transponders." Sideswipe stopped using his arms' built-in piledrivers to break down a particularly recalcitrant piece of destroyed building, raised a hand to shade his optics, and zoomed in on the approaching jet. "Yeah, that's Overload, all right." He lowered his hand and looked over at a larger orange-and-grey Autobot who was helping with the cleanup. "Hey, Landmine, you think you could take over on this?" Landmine grinned. "Hey, you know I -offered- to work on it earlier, boss..." Sideswipe snorted. "Yeah, but we needed the LZ and roadways plowed clear -first-." "Picky, picky." With that, Landmine got to work, using his own fists to smash and shove aside broken chunks of building. Meanwhile, Sideswipe moved away from the rest of the group and fired his flare rifle into the air. The flash from the gun illuminated the black Cybertron sky. The approaching red-and-grey fighter jet flashed its own lights in acknowledgement, then came in for a precise landing. The jet taxied to a halt - and a -pilot- climbed out to approach the group. Priss blinked and zoomed Getter-1's cameras. She hadn't expected the newcomer to be so -small-... the red, blue, and grey Autobot was barely taller than Sideswipe's knees. "Hey, a Minicon," Sylvie said. "I knew the Autobots had some in their ranks, but I've never seen one before. Well, aside from Bumblebee." "And -this- guy is supposed to haul four damaged Transformers back to Iacon?" Priss murmured. Smokescreen chuckled. "You wanna bet he can't?" Sylvie replied, "Don't take him up on it, Priss, you can just bet he's stacked the deck." The Autobot mock-pouted. "Aw, but that's half the -fun-." Meanwhile, the smaller Autobot and Sideswipe had begun walking around the disabled Vozdushnikons, the former having to walk fast to keep up with the larger red robot. "So, you think your carrier can handle the five of them, Overload?" asked Sideswipe. Overload looked over the damaged Decepticons and up at the stoic form of Foxhound. "You aren't going to try rocking the suspension once we get underway... Foxhound, isn't it?" Foxhound looked down at Overload - even sitting, he loomed over the smaller Transformer - and shook his head from side to side, fractionally. "Nyet. There would be no point in it. I cannot fly, and I would never be able to escape on foot. I know when I am beaten." Overload nodded. "All right." He turned, and looked up at Sideswipe. "Put him up front where there's more headroom, and we'll be able to fit the rest." "Gotcha." Sideswipe raised his voice, looking up at Skullomania and Getter-1. "Misato, Priss, looks like we'll be ready to go soon." The Atlas nodded. "Understood." Overload looked over at his fighter jet, then used his radio to forward a specific command signal to its computer. Its turbines spun up and the jet taxied over to where he was standing. Then, with the familiar sound of the five-tone ascending harmonic, panels folded up and over, the nose retracting while other compartments opened up. Within seconds, Overload's jet had transformed into a double- decker trailer, suitable for hauling troops or equipment. He gestured at the Autobots who were free to assist. "Okay, load 'em up." Once the damaged Decepticons had been placed onboard (and the tacturn Foxhound had been escorted to the front of the trailer), Overload transformed into a small, blunt-nosed semi-cab truck - almost comically small when set against the massive size of the trailer. He backed up and docked with his trailer. Once he was sure all the connections were secure, he revved his engine and let out a blast on his horn. "Ready to go, Sideswipe!" Sideswipe nodded, and looked over the assembled Autobot and ACROSS team. "Well then: Autobots, transform and roll out!" So saying, the red robot transformed to his vehicle mode and pulled to the front of the convoy as the other Autobots transformed and got into gear, protecting the flanks of ACROSS's smaller vehicles. "Getter Wing!" Priss ordered, moving a control. Black batwing-shaped antigrav manifolds sprang from Getter-1's back. The mechanoid's superstructure creaked audibly as its mass lifted off its suspension, but it responded snappily enough in the air. Sylvie fiddled with a couple of energy management controls and nodded, satisfied. Misato made sure Skullomania was pacing the ground vehicles, then opened a comm channel to Sideswipe. "You were just -waiting- to say that, weren't you," she said. Sideswipe chuckled over the communications band. "Hey, just about -every- Autobot's wanted to say Prime's most famous line, one time or another." "I thought that was 'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,'" interjected Priss, who had been listening in courtesy of Sylvie's communications network. "Yeah, but that's for speeches. Anyone who's fought under his command thinks of 'transform and roll out' first." Priss laughed. "I suppose." While this was going on, Sylvie eyed the seated form of Foxhound at the front of Overload's trailer. "Hm," she murmured pensively. "Something on your mind, Sylvie?" asked Misato from one of Sylvie's side displays. "I was just thinking... even if we manage to get those guys repaired - do you think they'll hold this battle against us? I mean, the Decepticons aren't exactly known for promoting an 'I'm OK, you're OK' mindset. The last thing we need is for a Decepticon combiner team to decide that they're our personal arch-enemies." "I wouldn't worry about that, Miss Daniels," answered Overload, who had tapped into the shared comm network when they had gotten under way. "Barring further orders from Decepticon High Command, Blackjack's psychological profile will prevent him from allowing any of his wingmates to carry out a vengeance attack." "What makes you say that?" asked Chuck. "Well, the five Vozdushnikons had been heavily indoctrinated via social exposure and propaganda to a twentieth-century Soviet mindset upon their reactivation in the USSR, before their original datatracks were mostly restored by the Decepticons. Blackjack is the very model of a classic Russian pragmatist. Some things run deeper than datatracks." "And how come -you- know this, Overload?" Priss asked, curious. Overload coughed, and tried to sound modest. "Decepticon studies are something of a hobby of mine, Miss Morgan." "(More like an obsession)," interjected Sideswipe under his exhaust. Overload continued, as if he hadn't heard the other Autobot's passing snark, "After all, if you know your enemy, you're better set to knowing how to defeat him." "That makes sense, I guess. Thanks, Overload," Priss replied, and fell silent in thought as she piloted Getter One over the convoy. "You're welcome." When he realized that no one was going to ask more questions for now, he shifted his focus to his external speakers to address his passenger. "Hey, Foxhound? Got a question for you." Foxhound glanced down at the top of Overload's cab, his expression unreadable (though this was through no fault of his own, as he lacked a standard flexmetal face thanks to the Soviet engineers who had rebuilt him). "... Yes?" he finally replied, not sure where this was going. "You guys were at Baku in 1987, weren't you?" Overload asked the larger robot. When Foxhound nodded, he went on, in a curious tone, "What was General Simonov's -plan- there, anyway? I've always assumed it -wasn't- to destroy half the region's production capacity, but I've never been able to figure out what he intended to accomplish..." Foxhound would have blinked, if he was capable of it. This was an unexpected level of interest from a bourgeois Autobot, to say the least. "Well. Hrm." He hesitated, and then went on, "Colonel Blackjack would be able to explain it better, but from my understanding of things... " Foxhound and Overload continued their conversation all the way back to Autobase. Unnoticed by ACROSS and the Autobots, a small golden metallic raptor watched the convoy depart. It had been perched in the lattice framework of one of the taller standing abandoned buildings, hidden from detection yet still able to view the entire battle site. Once the vehicles had dissapeared out of sight, it let out a small screech from its beak and took to the skies. Buzzsaw circled the area once, taking a moment to appreciate the patterns of devastation left by the earlier battle, before setting his course to the south and west. Within moments he was over the horizon, lost to sight. /* Team Sleep "The Passportal" _The Matrix Reloaded_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited and Imagination, Unlimited presented UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT TRANSFORMERS: CYBERTRON RELOADED Issue #2 - "Getter Robo vs. The State" The Cast (in order of appearance) Mora Bascht Misato Katsuragi Charles "Chuck" Keith Priss Morgan Sylvie Daniels Prowl Kenneth Spruance Shockwave Soundwave Onslaught Wingspan Pounce Razorclaw Outrun Flanker Blackjack Forger Soyuz Foxhound Smokescreen Sideswipe Landmine Overload Buzzsaw Written and Illustrated (textually) by Benjamin D. Hutchins Philip J. Moyer With the help of the industry's best bullpen The EPU Usual Suspects NEXT ISSUE: The Decepticon invasion of Cybertron rolls on! With ACROSS's heavy equipment in the shop and the Autobots losing ground on all fronts, can anyone stand between Shockwave and total conquest? TRANSFORMERS: CYBERTRON RELOADED #3 "The Call of Primus" (April 2006) E P U (colour) 2006