Warning:This segment contains several scenes in which nothing
is exploding, burning, shooting, or otherwise doing violent
things. Even worse, it contains a few paragraphs that could almost be
described as romantic. For those whose delicate sensibilities are
offended by this distasteful lack of violence (Hi, Frenzy!), please
accept my assurances that there will be a high enough body count in
future installments to appease the most refined of tastes, and I
apologize for this momentary lapse.

**********

	Spike left his quarters rapidly, running down one of the
adjoining corridors towards the main exit from the Ark, carefully
avoiding the medical center. He loved Carrie, of course, but the last
thing he needed right now was to face her. He needed to deal with
anything BUT the situation at hand...and he knew how to do it.
	There. Skydive. No doubt with some brilliant new plan gleaned
from Terran history.
	"Hey! Skydive! Hold on a second, will you?"
	The large robot slowed to a halt, turned to face the
human. "Yes, Ambassador?"
	"Please, just...call me Spike. You want a gunner?" The
Transformers were, of course, fully functional in all modes by
themselves....but they had discovered that having a human working in
tandem with them could improve efficiency. After all, they were
originally built as tools. Only a tiny handful of humans, though, were
comfortable working with machines that were alive...so it was not a
common practice.
	"Certainly, Spike...but...shouldn't you be with your mate at
this point?"
	Ratchet, thought Spike, had a big mouth. "No,
Skydive.... that's the last place I should be.  Now...are we teaming,
or not?" Damn. Rude. Not good....I'm letting this affect me far too
much. It's Ninteen NINETY Seven, not FIFTY Seven. I...
	"Well, Spike? What are you waiting for?" Skydive had already
shifted to his fighter-jet mode, and the pilots cockpit yawned
open. Spike shook his head and clambered in, strapping himself down
against the G forces sure to be generated. "Will you be forming
Superion?" he asked, somewhat inanely.
	"No....Silverbolt is away on a mission. Decepticon
intelligence almost certainly knew that, which is why they picked this
time to attack.  Fortunately....". He began to accelerate down the
large tunnel, heading for the exit where pulses of life could already
be seen.  "...I've been working on tactics designed around just this
sort of contingency.  Silverbolt can be....unreliable at times."
	He reached the exit, sped upwards, the sky was a brilliant,
clear blue, streaked with contrails and illuminated by multi-hued
beams and splashes of energy.  Three other Aerialbots were there,
using their smaller size and greater manueverabilty against the
Decepticon jets....which were obviously targeting the construction
below.
	"There, Spike....along the road. As I expected."
	Spike looked down. There were five tiny dust trails moving
across the broad highway leading to the construction site. He checked
the scanners, tapped the magnify button a few times. Four racing
vehicles and a huge truck, nearly the size of Prime. Stunticons.
Skydive twisted rapidly, straining his mettalic form to its limits,
and began diving towards them.
	"Spike, here's the plan. Motormaster has one significant
weakness compared to Prime in this form...the trailer isn't a subspace
attachment. Do you follow me?"
	"Yeah...I do. Excellent!" For the first time this morning,
Spike had found something to focus on. He took the controls for
Skydive's main guns, and activated targetting. He had to hit a target
barely one square foot in size while his plane was handling the task
of dodging plasma streams, shells, liquid nitrogen, and a host of less
identifiable weapons.
	Just like old times, he thought, smiling grimly. The joint
came into clear focus. He pressed the trigger, and beams of bright
energy streamed out, focussed, intersected right on target, as Skydive
reverse thrust and pulled up, away. Brief exhilaration mixed with pain
as the G-forces bore down, then relieved. He punched up a rear view,
magnified, to see what the effect was.
	It was not a pretty sight. Even though he knew the damage was
temporary, it was still ugly. The severing of that joint had forced
the Stunticon leader back to his robotic form...but slashed in
half. Spike couldn't hear the screams, but he imagined them.
Transformers felt 'pain' in much the same way organics did.
	"Good shooting, Spike!" Skydive's voice echoed around
him. "They're out of the battle for the moment. Our next target,
according to my strategy, is...."
	Spike continued, working on a sort of autopilot. Years of this
sort of this activity had given him instincts and reflexes equal to
any professional gunner. Or, on some occasions, pilot. Suddenly,
though, it had gone....well, the only word that came to mind was
colorless. It was as if the reality of it all had just revealed itself
to him. This was a WAR, dammit. It wasn't fun. But it wasn't going to
end soon, either. The Decepticons weren't merely 'misunderstood' or
fighting over trivial political differences. Any negotiation or
compromise meant enslavement and destruction.
	Could he raise a child in the middle of all this? Finally, the
real issue had manifested itself. His subconscious, he mused, was more
on the ball than his conscious.
	The battle was winding down. The damage to the construction
seemed minimal, but undoubtedly it looked worse on the ground. Skydive
hadn't exactly turned the tide of battle single-handedly, but
eliminating the possible threat of Menasor had helped tremendously in
evening the odds.
	The Autobot landed smoothly, and opened his canopy to permit
Spike to leave. He jumped out, and watched as the plane unfolded and
expanded into a humanoid robot.  Spike gave a quick salute and marched
off to find Carly. Time to get this settled, before worrying about it
gets me killed.  My life has just become a lot more important than it
was yesterday.
	Carly, of course, found him first. The teenager he had met so
many years ago had grown up into a beautiful and extremely
accomplished woman....she slipped equally well between the roles of
warrior, diplomat, and scientist...and they had grown together over
the years, from teenage infatuation to a much deeper relationship,
built in large part on the fact they had shared experiences no other
human would really understand. At times, over the years, they'd tried
to go their seperate ways...but they'd always come back together soon
enough.
	At the moment, however, her face was twisted in rage and pain,
as she strode towards him furiously. He didn't resist when she slapped
him. Hard.
	"How....DARE you! Risking your life like that...when you
KNEW...trying to keep me back there...I...." She tensed, forcing her
emotions back under iron control...the discipline that had kept her
alive, and sane, when confronted with things humans really weren't
meant to know. "What the hell were you thinking of?" she finally said,
icicles seeming to hang from every word.
	Suddenly, for Spike, everything fell into place. It all
fit. It all made sense. It would work out.
	He smiled, almost maliciously. "Well, I was thinking Cynthia
if it's a girl, Daniel if it's a boy."
	Carly took a half step back, almost stunned by his studied
non-chalance.  She rapidly alternated between the options of kissing
him and knocking all of his teeth down his throat.
	After an eternity one second in length, she kissed him.

****

	The Decepticons, after several failed attempts to secure land
in a manner similair to the deal the Autobots had made, had finally
settled on an abandoned and useless volcanic island in the Pacific, in
addition to numerous smaller, well-hidden bases scattered around the
world. The volcano, at least, provided consistent power, and
Decepticon engineering had secured enough tectonic stability to make
permanent construction possible.
	Deep inside the sprawling fortress, Mixmaster and Scavenger
were hard at work.  "You...you know, Mixmaster, I think....I think you
can...uh...tell Commander Megatron's moods by...by the percent of the
floor that he...he leaves intact when he's done...uh...debriefing
Starscream." Scavenger laughed, weakly, at his own attempt at humor.
	Mixmaster was in cement-truck form, transforming raw materals
into the unearthly alloy which formed most of the base. Though he
resembled a simple Terran cement mixer, albeit a bright green one, his
'drum' was perhaps the most advanced materials fabrication facility
ever constructed.  Its' interior was a huge subspace factory, and any
Terran chemist would give several decades of his life for a few
minutes to investigate it.  Actually, he'd give all his life...
instantly...if he ever tried it.
	Even without a face or a humanoid body, Mixmaster still
somehow managed to fix a chilling glare on Scavenger.
	"I recommend you leave the humor to others. Here's the next
plate." He lifted up his drum and spilled out a pool of metal, which
quickly hardened. Shifting to robot mode, he used a surgical laser to
slice it to a perfect square, then tossed the remaining material back
into his drum and transformed, again, to produce another
plate. Savenger glumly took the plate and set it in place, then welded
it molecularly to the rest. Only a few more to go....
	"And I expect we'll have a lot more work to come,
Scavenger. Megatron is furious at the damage done to Motormaster. And
then, there's no telling what he'll do when Blast-off gets back. If he
gets back...." There was a slight hint of hopefulness in the
Constructicons voice.  The various Gestalts had long-standing
rivalries. And the Constructicons, the first EVER, had grown resentful
of the later...and more succesful...creations.
	"Do you....do you think there's a chance he
won't...uh...return, then?"  Scavenger asked while welding.
	"I don't know. I don't really care, either. Will you hurry up?
I'm ready to pour the next piece."
	"Yes...Mixmaster...it's just about...about ready now." In a
few moments, the floor of the audience chamber where Megatron received
reports and debriefed his field operatives was fully
repaired. Mixmaster shifted to robot form. "Good. Let's get Hook to
give it the once over..." he sneered, slightly, at the thought. Hook
would look for joints a fraction of a millimeter out of vertical and
demand the entire floor be relaid...."and go get some Energon from the
dispensory. I've earned it."
	"Don't you mean...mean *we've* earned it?" Scavenger asked,
almost piteously.  Mixmaster said nothing, just looked at him with
contempt and walked away. Scavenger gave one glance back at the
newly-laid floor. I *did* earn it, he thought to himself, and followed
Mixmaster out of the room.
	In another part of the complex, Megatron watched as the
various parts of the still- conscious Motormaster were reattached, one
severed connection at a time. The huge robot, nearly Megatron's size,
lay in an operating bay as myriad robotic tendrils and probes moved up
and down his twitching form. Trauma, Decepticon chief surgeon and
interrogator, was joined to the bay in his vehicle mode, so that he
could fully experience the operation.  He enjoyed his work, of that
there was little doubt. A pity, Megatron thought, that my other
warriors are not so simple to motivate and control.  Especially one of
them....
	He turned to Starscream, who was picking at a relatively minor
tear in his left shoulder.  Lubricant and hydraulic fluid had caked
around the opening, and it bothered his not inconsiderable vanity.
	"Don't worry about it, Starscream." Megatron nearly
purred. "The good doctor will take care of that for you in short
order." As if to punctuate that comment, there was a final scream of
mettalic agony, a sound like metal shearing in a high wind, from the
operating bay, and then silence.  Then, seconds later, Trauma's
voice. "He's fine, now. He'll need a few days to fully integrate the
new circuitry and allow the nanobots to knit the connections back
together. He shouldn't transform for at least two days...and
definitely shouldn't perform a Gestalt Merge. It could kill him."
	Megatron fumed, but said nothing.  The image of the Autobot
who had caused him so much grief was locked into his visual memory, as
well as that pathetic 'squishy' who had assisted. The two of them
would pay for this outrage...slowly.
	He looked at the rest of his warriors...Dirge, Ramjet,
Thundercracker...all had minor damage of one sort of another. At least
they'd done their job, more or less....provided cover while Reflector,
one of the semi-Gestalts, had done his job of data-gathering. It
seemed the complex game of intelligence and counter-intelligence he'd
planned was working. The Autobots were racing ahead with their own
program, believing the Decepticons to be must further along than they
actually were. Now, all he had to do was keep stealing what they were
doing...
	An internal transmission reached him. "Laserbeak to Commander
Megatron.  Blast-off sighted entering atmosphere. ETA, five terran
minutes."
	"Wait for him, and the others, to enter, then direct them
immediately to me. Megatron out." Smiling, he shifted to tank form and
rumbled back to the newly repaired audience.

***

	Sky Lynx swooped out of space, exhilirating in the rush of air
and fire against his nearly heat-proof outer hull. He headed down,
deliberately building up the friction burn, so he appeared as a
blazing comet streaking towards the Autobot headquarters. At the last
instant, he changed vectors and landed, his hull glowing bright red
before cooling to its' usual brilliant white. Perfect, as always, he
thought.
	There was a clanging against his lower body. Shifting to
dinosaur form, he extended his long, flexible neck to look around, and
down. An Autobot whose face plates had actually started to sag with
age was looking at him, glowering.
	"Idiot! We almost blew you out of the sky, pulling a dumb
stunt like that!  If it wasn't for your passenger sending an IFF,
you'd be free floating particles now!" He stopped, waiting for a
response.
	"Well, it should have been obvious to anyone that it was
me. Who else COULD it be?"
	The other Autobot just looked disgusted and walked away. Sky
Lynx caught a few words.  "Pathetic....in my day....no respect for
experience....just like that time I...."
	Meanwhile, Chorale had peformed a direct cyberspace link to
her 'brother', Blaster, and he, in turn, plugged the data directly
into Teletran One. As he watched the datastream go by, he set up a
secondary process and called for the various Autobot commanders and
subcommanders. Optimus Prime.  Grimlock. Silverbolt. Hotspot. And, of
course, Sky Lynx himself.
	All except Sky Lynx physically assembled inside the Ark, in
the huge meeting room which could easily accomodate being of their
size. Spike was there as well, of course...part of his duties as
Ambassador included making sure that any war plans being made would
have only minimal impact on human-populated areas.
	Optimus Prime entered last. He managed to project an air of
power and concern. He had been one of the earliest casualties of this
war, and while he still tried to live up to his old name of
"Peacehunter", he was beginning to feel it was a very elusive quarry
indeed.
	He looked around the meeting table as he walked in. Silverbolt
looked nervous, and kept glancing around. Hotspot was focussed. Sky
Lynx, on the monitor, was preening himself.  Blaster was leaning
against a wall, probably analyzing the continuous chatter of the city.
Chorale was seated far away from the others, and seemed to be staring
into space, lost in thought. Grimlock was in his robot mode, and had
his feet on the table while he sketched symbols in the air with his
plasma sword. Spike was...dressed, was that the term?...in what
Optimus recognized as "formal" clothing, and was sitting, patiently,
behind a human-scale desk that had apparently been recently added to
the meeting hall, placed at roughly eye-level with the 'average'
Transformer.
	In the center of the table, in brilliant color, was the final
image Chorale had recorded as she and Sky Lynx had left the destroyed
Candarvis colony.
	Optimus walked smoothly up to the table, sat down in the chair
geared for his frame. The widely variant body construction of
Transformers meant that there was little in the way of standardized
furniture.
	"Autobots," he began. "We now face a threat potentially more
deadly than even the Decepticons. I trust you have all reviewed the
data Chorale has provided?"
	There was murmured assent. 
	"I need opinions, input, suggestions. Anyone?" He turned
quickly to Silverbolt, as if to encourage the relatively inexperienced
commander to speak, but another voice cut through the room, harsh and
unyielding.
	"Me, Grimlock, say:Attack now! Find weakness!" Grimlock had
actually intended to say, of course, "I recommend an initial probing
assault, with the intent of locating some exploitable weakness." But
an odd glitch in his processing circuitry had left him with the
electronic equivalent of a speech impediment. Those who knew him well
had learned to respect the hidden intelligence behind the obvious
brawn. Those who did not know him well....well, there were advantages
to the "dumb Dinobot" role he had been forced to adopt.
	Silverbolt finally spoke. "Well, I disagree. We could lose
even more Autobots, and we can't afford them. How do we know we'll
even see this 'intruder' again, anyway?  Candarvis was very far, well
away from our normal operations."
	There was a slight sense of agreement building in the
room. Chorale sprang to her feet, slammed the table, hard. "No!"
	She waited for silence. She got it. 
	"This will not be the last attack. I....received a sense of
their consciousness, their plans.  They...are marauders, invaders.
They know where we are. They know what we are. They WANT us." She
stopped. She had suppressed the knowledge she'd absorbed in that
first, terrible encounter, allowing it to trickle into her conscious
understanding only slowly.  Even now, the pain of trying to assimilate
something so alien was overwhelming to her.  She collapsed back into
her chair. "We can't ignore it. We have to find them, fight them."
	For a few moments, there was no sound.
	Blaster, naturally enough, broke the silence. "Okaaaay. If my
Sis says we fight, then I say we fight. We've seen what they did to
that colony...we don't stand a chance just waiting here. Better to
bring the fight to them!"
	Optimus looked at the assembled faces. "Any other input?"
	"Yes." Spike stood up. "According to the treaty which led to
the creation of New Cybertron, the Autobots assume responsibility for
protecting Earth from any dangers the Cybertronian Conflict might
bring. THAT", he said, point to the hologram that still dominated the
tabletop, "is just such a danger." Spike looked directly at Optimus.
"I helped push this treaty through by talking endlessly about your
commitment to honor and justice.  Don't make me look like a liar."
	Optimus looked down at Spike, his solid blue eyes shading
darker in thought. There was a seriousness of purpose in the human
that was not there before. The potential that Prime had seen in a
human child years before was finally starting to manifest in the adult
now standing before him.
	No one else seemed inclined to speak.
	"Very well. Grimlock, you and the Dinobots are best suited for
this mission. And take Perceptor along. He's no warrior, but he'll be
helpful in analyzing whatever you discover.  Sky Lynx will provide
your transportation. Good luck."
	Grimlock thought, I'm glad you finally saw the wisdom in my
suggestion. I look forward to the coming battle. What he said was,
"Yay! Me, Grimlock go to fight!"
	"Dinobots! Me, Grimlock, say, go to construction site! Big
fight coming!  Perceptor, come too!"
	Grimlock transformed to his dinosaur mode and stomped, loudly,
out. After about a minute, there was an incoming signal from
Perceptor. Optimus responded. "Yes, Perceptor?"
	"Optimus, there is one of those....Dinobots in my laboratory!
He insists I accompany him!  Is this true?"
	"I'm afraid so, Perceptor. You'll find the relevant data on
board Sky Lynx. This is a mission of vital importance to all of
us. Perform it well."
	"I....I will, Optimus" There was the sound of Slag's voice
saying, "Come on, we ain't got all day, big eye!" and then the
connection was cut.
	Optimus dismissed the remaining Autobots, then turned back to
watch the construction site on one of the monitors. He saw Sky Lynx
extend a loading ramp, and the Dinobots, followed by a reluctant
Perceptor, climb on board.  Then the ramp was retraced, Sky Lynx
shifted to shuttle mode, and took off.
	Prime watched the shape dwindle and vanish. He felt a hideous
dread. He knew this wasn't going to be the end of it. Whatever this
new enemy was, this battle was not going to be quick or easy.

****

	Megatron was smiling. It wasn't a sight to inspire joy.
	"This is excellent intelligence, Soundwave. As usual, you have
done superbly." Megatron glanced sidelong at Starscream, who wisely
said nothing. "We must exploit this new discovery. Either we will use
this 'intruder' as an ally, or steal their technology for ourselves."
He opened a communications channel. "Astrotrain! Combaticons!
Afterburner! Report at once to the launching platform. I have a
mission for you..."
	Soundwave spoke. "High probability of Autobots performing a
similair action, Commander Megatron."
	"I expect they shall, Soundwave. We will let them be the
trailbreakers for us, then benefit from their destruction."

****

	Some time later, in deep space....
]We detect approaching craft.
]They appear to be of the same species We discovered earlier.
]Excellent. We shall assimilate them.
]We have determined they will seek to resist assimilation.
]Resistance is futile.

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