A World Transformed #3 - Beyond the Space Bridge!

A TRANSFICTION Project
presents:

Issue Three: "Beyond the Space Bridge!"
October 1999
Written and Illustrated by Bryan Richard Shipp

The Transformers: powerful warrior robots waging a neverending battle across space and time. Autobots and Decepticons, fighting a war of long-forgotten ideologies, now trapped in a cycle of violence that threatens to consume them all. They have traveled across the ages from their homeworld of Cybertron to a blue-green orb we know as the Earth. But this is not the Earth we know; it is a world transformed, a place of mutants, superheroes, and villains. It is a world where nothing is as it seems. . .and these alien robots will soon find that those they thought were allies and enemies are not. They will find that there are greater threats than each other. . .

Cybertron. A world without peace, at war for nine million years. It is a wonder that this enormous planet has not been completely destroyed by the war between two factions of its populace, the Autobots and the Decepticons. Four million years ago, the Autobots launched one final, desperate effort to save themselves--an effort met by the greatest offensive they had ever seen, led by Megatron himself, leader of the Decepticons. They were driven underground, forced into hiding, their sustenance stolen from their enemies and their battles a pathetic guerilla movement.

The Autobots have known defeat for four million years. They have lived with it, struggled to not accept it, but with the death of their former leader, Sentinel Prime; the loss of their last source of power, Iacon; and the disappearance of their current leader, Optimus Prime, there is little else for them to do but waste away, ending their lives in futile war against the Decepticons.

It is into this environment that we return to Cybertron. The Decepticons, under the leadership of Governor Straxus, have rebuilt their forces and now dominate the Saturn-sized world. The Autobots, numbering barely in the thousands, do their best to hide from the millions of Decepticons, sabotaging them where they can. Under the leadership of Alpha Trion and Emirate Xaaron, the Autobots have rediscovered their ancient religion, and not a day goes by without them praying to their god, Primus, to deliver them from the Decepticon evil. Under the leadership of the Generals Ultra Magnus, Fortress Maximus and Elita-1, the Autobots have managed to succeed in enough battles against the Decepticons to still make them a force to be reckoned with. Even still, though, they are in constant search of a way to gain the upper hand on the Decepticons, to keep the conquerors from spreading fear across the universe.

And now, they may have found it.

***

"Ultra Magnus! Ultra Magnus, I must speak with you without delay!"

Ultra Magnus sighed, then turned around to face the Autobot running down the corridor after him. "What is it now, Perceptor? I’ve got better things to do that to listen to your scientific gobbledygook."

Perceptor stopped dead in his tracks, a hurt expression passing quickly over his face. "I regret you feel that way, Ultra Magnus, because while you’ve been leading hardly-successful raids against the fuel depots of the Decepticons, I have been searching for the source of energon which lead Optimus Prime and many of our greatest warriors off into space. Should we find the one, we find the other, and the key to victory will lie in our hands."

"Yes, yes, Perceptor--that’s exactly the kind of logic that’s kept your search going--you may have Alpha Trion and Emirate Xaaron convinced, but I’m just a soldier, and I know the only thing that’s going to win this war is good fighting."

"Yes, I’m certain. That’s why you’ve refused to mount a rescue operation for Spanner."

"He’s a neutralist scientist, not one of our own. We’ve had this argument before, Perceptor. Just because he’s your friend doesn’t mean we can head off half-cocked and shoot up Polyhex looking for him!"

Perceptor cleared his throat, frowning slightly to indicate his distaste for Ultra Magnus’s attitude. Arguing would get him nowhere, so he decided to change the subject. "As you know, my search has led to little over the past four million years. Five days ago, however, I was running a routine search for Cybertronian energy signatures when I discovered one. It was extremely faint, but nevertheless active. Here are its coordinates."

Perceptor handed Magnus a datapad.

***

"Lord Straxus, the delivery is about to be made. Do you wish to see our warriors off?"

Straxus, the Lord of Darkmount, Scourge of Cybertron and Master of the Decepticons, stared blankly at the unnamed soldier standing before him. It was certainly true that under his leadership the Decepticons had been able to rebuild their army--over four million years, he had increased the population of Decepticons on Cybertron from barely a thousand to in the millions. However, without the power of either the lost Creation Matrix or the deactivated Vector Sigma, he had not been able to create sentient soldiers for the war against the Autobots. Nor had his forces had the energy required to make full-sized Transformers.

Straxus, Lord of Darkmount, Master of the Decepticons. . .captain of a horde of forces no larger than his own foot. The humiliation of it burned within him, until he remembered how efficient they were--under his command, the Decepticons had united Cybertron in a way Megatron had only dreamed of--Megatron had bee the conquering warrior, but every empire needs an administrator to survive, and that administrator was Straxus. After all, he had already held the Decepticon Empire together for four million years--now, with their expansion plans gaining momentum, he would finally expand it in ways Megatron never could.

All these thoughts and more passed through the mind of Straxus the Tyrant as he stared at the messenger by his foot. It was one of only a few models of drone built--this one could transform into a fast, armed aircraft, and was particularly useful when accompanying a squadron of Seekers.

"I will be there momentarily." Straxus watched the Skybolt drone transform and leave, no doubt to deliver another message. Always another shipment, always another delivery--always more warriors departing his realm and traveling on to parts unknown, perhaps never to be seen again. Straxus had never been off-planet; most likely, he never would. This was his domain; and with every Decepticon who left to expand the empire, his domain shrank by comparison. But Megatron, fortunately, was long since disappeared; and without that impediment to his power, he could rein unchallenged.

Straxus transformed into his artillery mode and engaged the powerful thrusters he could call upon in that mode. It was safest for him to travel as a living weapon; even with the Decepticon Empire stretched across Cybertron and, now, into the stars themselves, the Autobots were still extraordinarily effective when it came to sabotaging his plans. With the firepower he could muster in his alternate form, no Autobot would dare attack him.

As Straxus flew out of his Citadel, he did not notice the Autobot below, shadowing his every move through the ruined streets and buildings of Polyhex.

***

Straxus stood on one side of the enormous bridge spanning an artificial chasm in the Cybertronian landscape. Standing before him were three of his most powerful warriors--Blitzwing, Octane and Astrotrain. Their presence was demanded far from Cybertron, and Straxus knew he would not be seeing them again. In one way, that was a good thing--they would not remain to possibly challenge his throne. In quite another way, though, he would feel their loss. They had done excellent work as his enforcers, and they would be greatly missed.

"Are you prepared?"

The three triple-changers nodded. "We are, Lord Straxus," Astrotrain said.

"Very well. May you find satisfaction on this world of. . .fleshlings. Conquer it in the name of the Decepticons. . .conquer it in the name of Straxus."

The triple-changers nodded and saluted their master by banging their right fists on their left breastplates. Straxus, satisfied by this show of loyalty, turned away and looked at the engineer at the bridge’s operating console.

"Activate the trans-dimensional reactors."

The reactors built into the space bridge began to whir, and the entire structure was surrounded in an electrified haze, as if it were warping the very bounds of space and time itself. Of course, that’s exactly what it was doing, thanks to the extraordinary mind of the captured neutralist scientist Spanner. Soon enough they would be developing a propulsion system based on the space bridge that would be capable of transporting ships through the vast reaches of space without the need of the clumsy space bridge or the frustratingly complex space-time coordinate system it used.

But, for now, it was functioning quite well. . .well enough to take many of Straxus’ best warriors away from him. As if in time with the thought, the three triple-changers step onto the bridge. . .and disappear. The cycling hum of the reactors dies down, and silence once again descends upon the Cybertronian surface. The gathered troops dissipate and Straxus returns to his citadel, leaving behind only a few guards for the Space Bridge.

A few guards, none of whom notice the hidden surveillance device transform and slink away from Darkmount, to the hidden headquarters of the rag-tag Autobots.

***

"Blaster! Report!" Ultra Magnus crossed his arms and stared down at the Autobot, only now returning from his reconnaissance mission into the heart of Decepticon territory.

"It’s just as you feared, Magnus. The Decepticons are leaving Cybertron in droves thanks to something called a ‘Space Bridge.’ I watched the Triple-Changers leave myself, just before I left. Straxus is only sending out his best troops, though--the drones are staying here. He mentioned something about them going to a world of. . .what was it he said?. . .that’s right--fleshlings. You know what a fleshling is, Magnus?"

Magnus frowned. "No. No, I don’t. But this is definitely terrible news. If the Decepticons have found a way to leave Cybertron, to try and conquer other worlds. . .I fear the worst. We must stop them, immediately."

Emirate Xaaron stepped into the entrance hall of the hidden Autobase. "Ah, Blaster, you’ve returned. What news?"

"The Decepticons are heading off for other worlds," he said unenthusiastically. Then, he brightened. "Say, you wouldn’t happen to know what a fleshling is, would you?"

Emirate Xaaron’s optics narrowed.

***

The Autobot Council chambers was in an uproar. The 12 Autobot Elders, the oldest and wisest of the Autobot civilian leaders to survive to the current day, were debating the news laid out before them. First, they had learned that Optimus Prime and the Autobots he had taken with him to hunt energon in the stars 4 million years before, just as the Decepticons attacked and destroyed Iacon, were apparently alive and recently reactivated. Hope! At last, hope!

Then, they learned from Blaster that the Decepticons had found a method of travel to those selfsame stars, a method which allowed them to circumvent space travel and arrive instantly at their destination--a method which gave them the power to colonize the universe, to conquer everything in their path. A method which allowed them to bypass the Autobots entirely, and continue on the mission which the Autobots had for so long tried to stop. Chaos! Despair! Doom, and failure!

Emirate Xaaron, the oldest of the Autobot Elders and the High Councilor, rapped his knuckles on the podium before him three times. The other Elders quieted out of respect for Xaaron and sat back in their seats, their discussion concluded. Xaaron’s optics passed over the eleven Elders, then nodded.

"Fellow Autobots, you’ve heard the information that our scout and our scientist have given us. You know the threat the Decepticons at large pose to the universe. . .you know that Optimus Prime may still be alive, and the Matrix with him. With the Matrix is the key to defeating the Decepticons, once and for all. But there is more.

"If Optimus Prime and the Ark live, then there is the possibility that Megatron and the Nemesis live, as well. And if this is so, our mission is all the more imperative. Straxus has been our enemy for the last four million years, but even with the new development of this Space Bridge, he has not been the threat to either us or the universe as was Megatron. Now, that dynamic may very well change.

"Even with this, though, is something more disturbing. Blaster has overheard that the Decepticons are traveling to worlds of fleshlings. Many of you here do not know what that means--but I have summoned Alpha Trion here to inform those of you who do not understand."

The Council Chambers, with the 12 Councilors at the center and the hundreds of remaining Autobots in the base in the observation gallery along the outer walls, went silent as the entrance doors on the far side of the room opened for the oldest and wisest of the Autobots.

Alpha Trion, he who built Optimus Prime from Orion Pax, he who refused a position on the Council, he who--alone--carried the ancient secrets of Cybertronian theology. His very name commanded respect. His presence inspired awe. His calm voice was heard by all Cybertronians, and could instill reason and compassion even in a Decepticon core processor. He was an Autobot--but he was much more. He was the voice of Primus, the last remaining priest of the Cybertronian religion. Everyone in the chamber bowed their heads as he stepped into the central circle of light, a fighting staff in his hand, and looked out over the assembled crowd.

"Before our recorded history begins, Primus lived. Primus lies still, at the core of this world, dead but dreaming. Primus created us; He is our Father, the Father Of All. He is life, that which He has given, that which He is made from. We praise Him, and honor Him. His is the Holy Metal; from Him we are born, to Him we return, until All are One. Amen."

"Amen." Each single, tiny voice combined with its brethren to produce a sound like a roar; a holy invocation sure to awaken Gods.

"But we are a corrupted people. For Primus could not create us himself, lest he draw to us the Chaosbringer, the Master of the Void. So he summoned others to do his Holy Work; the Quintessons, pure of heart and noble of spirit. They came to our world, the world of Primus, and from him drew forth the essences of Vector Sigma. With Vector Sigma there was life; with Vector Sigma, we were born. I was among those thus created; I live on, 13 million years later, that you may know of this truth.

"But the Chaosbringer was not so blind as Primus would believe. From afar, not able to attack Primus Himself, the Chaosbringer corrupted His servants, and the Quintessons in turn corrupted the dream of Primus, that His glorious creation would be made mere slaves, consumer products for the consumption of those rich enough, and powerful enough, to be able to purchase them. In this Primus grew angry, and sought to punish his servants.

"Then came to us Prima, the Son of Our Father and the Light of the Matrix. In him Primus was well pleased, for Primus was with him, and Primus was in him, and Primus was him. Prima taught us the evil of the Quintessons, showed us the Dream that Primus the All-Father sought for us. For this, Prima was killed by the Quintessons, and we, in turn, rose up against the Quintessons and drove them from our world. We became the masters of our own destiny. . .or so we believed.

"For hundreds of thousands of years ever after, we were the servants of the universe around us--its protectors and its guardians. Until Megatron rose from the ranks of the warriors, and demanded that we not serve those around us, but rather enslave them, as they had once done to us. It was then that the Great War began. . .nine million years ago, we Transformers split ourselves over issues of philosophy, becoming Autobots and Decepticons, fracturing the Primus Dream that we could make war upon His world.

"For four million of those years, we have laid in wait, underground, seeking out what small existence we could muster in order to continue our quest to end the Decepticon threat. Because of the destruction of Iacon in Megatron’s final assaults against us, all knowledge of where Optimus Prime, Bearer of the sacred Creation Matrix, was lost. Without the Matrix, we fought a losing battle, confident only in the prophecy that the Matrix would return one day, and lead us from our darkest hour.

"Now that Matrix has returned. . .and so, too, have the beings of this universe returned to our consciousness. For millennia, we have fought a war over whether those beings should be conquered or served. Know now that, with contact once again established, this war will only escalate--and with that escalation, more than Cybertron will be at risk. All things that touch upon the Matrix, the divine essence of Primus, are now immediately threatened by the Decepticons. Know this, that you know also the added importance our Great War has now gained. May Primus watch over you all in the dark hours ahead. Amen."

The Autobots murmured another "Amen" in one voice, and Alpha Trion left the way he came.

Emirate Xaaron stood, passed his optics over the crowd. "Ultra Magnus, pick your team. Your mission: to infiltrate Darkmount, read the datatracks of the Space Bridge’s travels, and destroy the Space Bridge, no matter the cost."

***

"Hold on, let me get this straight. We’re being used as a diversion? You can’t be serious, Magnus."

The Wreckers murmured their agreement with Springer as he frowned at Ultra Magnus.

"Look, Springer, I can’t deal with this right now. If you don’t like your assignment, that’s too bad--right now, you and the Wreckers are not what I need. You’re to make a frontal assault on Darkmount, but a careful one. We can’t afford to lose any of you, you’re the best warriors we’ve got." The flattery worked; the Wreckers stood down, began thinking about the Decepticons they could lay waste to in the upcoming battle. "While you’re making your attack, my team and I will sneak into Darkmount, read the Space Bridge’s destination coordinates, sabotage the Space Bridge itself, and then escape. Once we’re out, you’ll get the signal to retreat. Is everything clear?"

The Wreckers nodded, as he knew they would. He had hand-picked them, trained them, honed them to the same deadliness as the micro-millimeter edge of an energon blade. They would do well in the upcoming battle. Before he left, he patted each of their shoulders--Impactor, his second-in-command, the most powerful of the Wreckers standing before him; Rack and Ruin, the twin Autobots, unparalleled at melee combat; Topspin and Twintwist, the Jumpstarters; Springer, perhaps the toughest-minded of the Wreckers; Whirl and Roadbuster, masters of air and land. They would fight the good fight, win, and live.

But Ultra Magnus had the sneaking feeling that he would not fare so well.

***

The spire of the citadel of Darkmount rose high into the Cybertronian sky, casting a shadow over the landscape that served as an appropriate symbol of the oppression Straxus, master of Darkmount, had cast upon the denizens of Polyhex. Darkmount had never been attacked directly, and with good cause; it was guarded by nearly a quarter of the Decepticon army, with enough combined firepower to wipe out the rest of the Autobots on the planet. It was impossible to attack Darkmount and succeed--it was a great source of contentment to the Decepticons of Polyhex that they had such a secure capital.

Which is why they were so very stunned when Darkmount shuddered under a massive explosion at its base, collapsing one of its mighty spires and causing the giant Decepticon Sigil on the Great Spire to hang askew. Dozens of drones moved toward the attack point, only to be cut down by laserfire from within the cloud of dust and debris kicked up by the explosion. The destruction of the drones caused ever more to be summoned to the spot, automatically attracted to their fallen, mindless comrades, only to be destroyed by the same hidden enemies.

In his chambers in the great spire of Darkmount, Straxus looked out over the battlefield. So, the Autobots finally attack me here. So be it; let them come to their own doom. He activated his internal communication system, keying it automatically to the frequency he wanted.

"Spinister," he said, "disperse the debris cloud immediately south of Darkmount."

"Yes, Lord Straxus," came the immediate reply.

Straxus watched as the Decepticon helicopter flew out of an exit port on the side of one of Darkmount’s towers and hovered over the sensor-jamming cloud of metal filings, the power of his rotor blades dispersing the Autobots’ cover. He was shot several times from below, but he stayed on hovering until no trace of the cloud remained--he knew very well that he would be thrown to the smelting pits if he failed in his mission. Once the cover was blown, though, he began to flee back toward Darkmount--only to be finally shot down by Springer.

Straxus felt no sadness when he watched Spinister crash into the side of Darkmount and explode. If he could be salvaged, then all was well--an effective warrior would be restored; if not, then he had served his purpose, and the energon used to power him would be used on other warriors who would be more difficult to destroy. He did, however, note that this battle could have potentially devastating consequences. The majority of his sentient Decepticons were away from Polyhex, and the Skybolt, Deathtread and Cycler drones that were left to defend Polyhex were not nearly as effective warriors as true Decepticons.

Activating his inter-Decepticon radio, he called out to the greatest of his generals. "Scorponok, this is Lord Straxus. The Autobot Wrecker Squadron is attacking Darkmount. Return here immediately and dispatch them."

"And so shall the Autobots be destroyed!" came Scorponok’s ever-enthusiastic reply. As Straxus cut the link between them, he thought about the danger Scorponok would pose to his position should the larger, more powerful Decepticon ever decide that his political aspirations were more important than quenching his all-powerful bloodlust.

As Straxus stared down into Darkmount’s courtyard, watching the battle with all the casual interest of a giant swatting away an insect, swarms of drones flew and drove in from nearly every direction, surrounding the Wrecker squadron with a hail of fire and light that would have dazzled any less seasoned warrior. The Wreckers continued in their attack, though, engaging the drones and actually pushing the hordes back. Straxus knew they couldn’t win, though--already they had taken enough hits from the drones to assure that. No matter how many drones they destroyed, they would eventually have to fall back. He could tell that they knew it, as well--they were protecting their route of escape, a waste disposal access shunt near the long-dead energon fountain that had once flowed rich in glowing energon before the Great War. This was not an attack to gain ground, then--merely something to take out many of his troops, to occupy their time for a while. . .

To occupy their time. This attack was a diversion, then. But for what?

"What are you after, Autobots?" Straxus growled.

***

"The Space Bridge control center is right up here," Blaster said, leading the Autobots further into Darkmount, ever deeper into the lions’ den. Following him were Perceptor, Cosmos, Beachcomber, Powerglide, Seaspray, Warpath and, taking up the rear, Ultra Magnus.

Once they got inside the control center, Perceptor went immediately to the controls while Ultra Magnus took up a position as sentry. The others stood guard over Perceptor as he worked, ensuring that no attack could come from outside Darkmount even as Ultra Magnus ensured that none could come from within. Beachcomber whistled quietly when he saw the massive Space Bridge outside the command center windows.

Perceptor’s hands went to the controls, his fingers dancing over the keys with the rapidity of a master at his craft. As he worked, the frown on his face deepened to a scowl.

"I recognize this technology. The Decepticons did not develop the Space Bridge."

"Who did, then?" Blaster asked.

"Every engineer designs in certain ways--it is the engineer’s signature, a recognition of his art. After analyzing the structure of this device, I have come to the conclusion that it represents a pinnacle in neither Autobot nor Decepticon technology--rather, it was developed by neutralist science, in particular that of Spanner."

"Zowie! Your buddy?" Warpath asked.

A shadow passed over Perceptor’s face. "My captured ‘buddy,’ you are quite correct."

The conversation was not lost on Ultra Magnus. Even though he stood outside the door, watching out for approaching Decepticons, he heard every word Perceptor spoke, as well as the unspoken accusation that, had he allowed a rescue mission to recapture Spanner, the Decepticons would not have the technology of the Space Bridge, would not be travelling across the universe in triumph.

He leaned in the door. "Perceptor, we can’t deal with that now. Just grab the information, set the charges, and let’s go."

"Yes. . .sir," Perceptor said, turning back to the controls before him. After a quick search through the datatracks of the Space Bridge’s use, he gasped.

"What is it?" Cosmos asked.

"These coordinates. . .they’ve only been sending their troops to a single planet!"

"Well, that’s a good thing. . .isn’t it?" Seaspray murmured in his bubbling voice.

Perceptor paused, running some calculations through his head. "It is both good and bad, Seaspray. Good, in that we do not have to worry about massive colonization. It is extremely bad, though--because if my calculations are accurate, then the planet they have been reinforcing is the same that Optimus Prime and the Ark currently inhabit!"

"You’re not serious." Magnus said, abandoning his post and stepping into the room, frowning. "If that’s the case, then our old comrades are in dire trouble."

"Oh, indeed they are, Magnus. And now, so are you."

The Autobots turned around. Standing in the doorway to the control center, his armor gleaming in the light of the stars outside the window, stood Lord Straxus, ruler of the Decepticons, his energon axe at the ready.

***

In the courtyard of Polyhex, the Wreckers stared in horror as the drones they were fighting were joined by Scorponok and his finest warriors.

"Autobots, tremble at the power of Scorponok!" The massive Decepticon thundered.

"Well, guys--I can’t say it was nice knowin’ ya, but it sure as slag was fun!" Whirl cried.

"Fear not, fellow Autobots--Fortress Maximus will not let you die this day!" Fortress Maximus appeared at the opposite end of the battlefield from Scorponok, ignoring everything but the enemy general. Behind him, surging onto the battlefield, came the cavalry: nearly every warrior Autobase could muster, guns blazing, turning the tide of the battle even as the arrival of Scorponok seconds before had.

"Deus ex machina?" Topspin asked no one in particular.

Twintwist glanced at his twin. "Does it matter?"

Topspin shrugged and fought on.

***

"You could fire those," Straxus said, his optics passing over the weapons the Autobots had drawn on him, "but I can assure you that the majority of your blasts would only be deflected back at you. You see, I have maintained my post as leader of the Decepticons through my intelligence and my strength. So fire, please--it will mean fewer of you that I will have to deal with myself."

The Autobots stared at him silently, and all but Magnus lowered their weapons.

"Excellent. Tell me, whose idea was it to send the vaunted Wrecker squadron straight at Darkhold? Yours, Magnus? I sincerely hope not--it demonstrates such a total lack of strategic ability that it embarrasses me to admit that I had to spend more than half an astrosecond to realize your ploy."

Magnus growled, stepped forward. In response, Straxus pointed his axe straight in Magnus’ direction, the glow of its energon-enhanced blade a deadly barrier between the Decepticon leader and the Autobot general.

"I suppose that even now they are being ground to metal filings under the assault of my drones coupled with Scorponok’s insanity. I’m certain you can hear the echoes of distant battle; feel the rumblings of faraway destruction."

Straxus was right; Magnus could indeed feel the tremors of the battle. He balled his free hand into a fist, his optics moving between Straxus and the axe before him and the empty space to his sides, gauging how difficult it would be for him to find an avenue of attacking Straxus without first being torn apart by him. Even as he worried that he would find none, his internal battle computers calculated the most probable course. . .

"That destruction won’t be far away for long--already my drones come to me, my loyal Decepticons, reinforcements to mop up what I don’t finish in time. After all, one must keep the rabble happy. . ."

Before Straxus could finish, Ultra Magnus ducked forward, tossing his gun to one side of Straxus and rolling to the other. Straxus swung the axe to intercept the gun instinctively, slicing cleanly through it and shattering it in a powerful explosion, knocking him off-balance just as Ultra Magnus came out of his roll and, turning on one heel, leapt at Straxus. Both fell into the hall to continue their fight, and Perceptor turned back to the control array for the Space Bridge.

"What are you doing, Perceptor? We’ve got to get out of here!" Beachcomber’s voice betrayed his fear of the incoming drones. He wasn’t a warrior by choice--few of the Autobots were. But they had a job to do, worlds and innocent lives to protect from the Decepticons and Perceptor wasn’t willing to shirk that duty.

"I’m setting the charges and powering up the Space Bridge. I intend to cross it."

"You’re out of your mind!" Blaster cried.

"No, I’m not. Someone needs to be a messenger from us to the Autobots stranded on that planet--perhaps even warn them of what’s coming. My purpose here on Cybertron is finished--for the last four million years, I’ve been searching for Prime and the others. I am not a warrior--what else can I do?"

"What about Spanner?" Beachcomber asked.

Perceptor frowned, looked away. "The Decepticons got what they wanted out of him. I have no doubt that he is already dead."

Blaster stared at him, then, raising his gun to his shoulder: "I’m going with you, buddy. You’ll need somebody to fire a gun if you ain’t gonna."

The others chimed in their agreement, and Perceptor nodded, setting the final charges.

***

In the hallway, the battle of the titans proceeded apace. Straxus had lost his axe and Magnus had sacrificed his gun, and the only thing between either robot and a successful mission was the other. They grappled, Magnus just as tall as Straxus, just as powerful, neither powerful robot giving or taking so much as a centimeter of space. Steel muscle cables groaned with the effort of the battle, shell plating buckled, and still each stood his ground.

Magnus realized the stalemate, knew that he would have to break it in order to gain any advantage. He relaxed his grip on Straxus and the Decepticon leader, feeling it, took the initiative and raised Magnus over his head, ready to throw the Autobot general. Magnus anticipated this, though, and swung his legs around behind Straxus, shifting his balance enough to throw Straxus into the far wall.

The throw didn’t even phase Straxus. He slammed into the wall, landed on his feet and, using the momentum of his fall, sprang back at Magnus, taking him in the midsection and slamming him into the ground. Magnus clawed at Straxus’ face, tearing at the smooth metal there, finally grabbing onto it with one hand and slamming his other fist into it repeatedly. Straxus howled in pain and rage, releasing Magnus and trying to pull free from the Autobot’s grip. When that failed, he reached out, grabbing at the ground, trying to find his dropped axe.

His hand closed over it.

***

"I don’t like it. We’re too open, too exposed." Cosmos glanced around, seeing the Decepticon citadel behind them, the Space Bridge in front of them, and he and his fellow Autobots in the center of the plain between the two.

"We’ll be on the bridge shortly--what we need to worry about is what we’ll find once we get on the other side." Perceptor said.

"We’ll find Prime, Perceptor. And nothin’s gonna stand in our way once we do." Blaster grinned.

Warpath called out an enthusiastic string of onomatopoeia, and Perceptor couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t so sure about the future fate of the Autobots, but then Blaster always did know how to boost morale. And, strangely enough, Blaster’s predictions usually had a way of coming true, despite all odds.

"Uhm, guys? I don’t think we should celebrate yet." Beachcomber muttered.

"Why no--" Blaster asked, then stopped as he stared ahead at the Space Bridge. Perceptor looked up, out of his own thoughts, and saw what was perhaps one of the most unpleasant things he had ever seen.

Gathering between the Autobots and the Space Bridge, like an armada of tiny, deadly insects, were hundreds of Straxus’ warrior drones, weapons at the ready.

***

Ultra Magnus screamed with the pain of the axe buried deep in his chest, howled in greater agony as Straxus rose, planting one foot firmly on Magnus’ abdomen, and tore the axe back out, only to slam it back down with twice as much force as before.

Magnus had felt pain before, but nothing as deep, as gut-wrenching, as this. He felt as if his very laser core were about to give out, and that thought, the idea that Straxus would win, that Straxus would first kill him and then take down his Autobot allies, was unbearable to Magnus. It lent him strength of will; that strength gave him power.

Even as his energon reserves were draining, leaking out of the massive holes Straxus had torn in him, Magnus reached up with both hands and grabbed hold of the axe. Confusion crossed Straxus’ optics for a moment, then he realized what Magnus was about to do. A nanosecond too late, however: Magnus, holding onto the shaft of the axe, holding it within his chest, swung his legs underneath Straxus’ open body and kicked upward and outward, knocking the Decepticon leader off him with a scream of pain and effort.

Straxus fell, stunned, and Magnus rose, yanking the axe out of his chest, shutting down all his internal damage warning systems. He had to; otherwise, he would not be able to find the strength to go on. He might very well die this day; so long as he could save Perceptor and the others, and perhaps even destroy the Decepticon leader, then he would not die in vain. He could die in peace, knowing that.

He drove the axe down hard into Straxus, blinking his optics against the sparks flying against his face from the hole he punched into the Decepticon. He raised the axe again, smashed it down again, this time tearing apart the cables and wires attaching Straxus’ left arm to his body. Straxus roared, more in anger than in pain, and reached out to grab the axe as Magnus brought it down a third time. The axe shattered Straxus’ hand, driving deep into his forearm and exploding an energon packet there. Straxus’ optics flickered and went dark, but Magnus knew the Decepticon wouldn’t be dead. After all, he wasn’t, and he had taken more critical damage.

He turned, stumbling, back to the control center--and saw the charges set, his team gone. He saw the timers, the control panels set to activate the Space Bridge, and understood immediately. They were going to cross the Space Bridge, to try to get to Optimus Prime and the others, if they were still functional. He saw the plan immediately, understood the reasons behind it, and agreed with it--he wished only that they had told him about it first, but at the time he had been rather preoccupied.

Not that any of that mattered at the moment--as he gazed out the window of the control center, he saw a horde of drones moving in around Perceptor and the others, and knew he had to do something, and quickly, or else those drones would take out the team, and all hope of communication with the Ark would be lost. He looked around, thinking of what he could do. . .

***

The laserfire surrounded them like a blanket, and they were trapped, pinned in the open while the drones circled them, firing inward. They had already taken major damage but, fortunately, the drones did not have firepower equivalent to the blasters the full-sized Transformers carried, relying instead on massive amounts of fire to damage their enemies. So, while the trapped Autobots had taken a lot of damage, it wasn’t as much as it could have been, and for that they were grateful.

"Decepticons, to me! I shall finish these Autobot fools!" The drones broke off immediately and headed for the control center for the Space Bridge where, Perceptor was shocked to see, Straxus stood, badly beaten but still functional, standing up and almost seeming to float in the air.

"He looks damaged. We may be able to take ‘im," Blaster murmured.

"It would be a fool’s errand. Straxus may be damaged, but his drones are not. We would never be able to get past them, even if we were able to beat Straxus. We do have one chance, however--we can run as quickly as we can to the Space Bridge. On my mark--go!" Perceptor and the Autobots around him broke into a dead run, hauling skidplate to the Space Bridge before Straxus could catch up to them, before the trans-dimensional generators shut down, before the charges could blow.

***

Ultra Magnus, holding the unconscious Straxus between him and the drones, watched his fellow Autobots leap onto the Space Bridge even as the generators cycled up and the entire structure began to glow with unparalleled energies. Those energies built to a crescendo along Perceptor’s pre-programmed timetable and then, with a flash of light, they were gone, the Space Bridge was still, and the badly wounded Ultra Magnus was face-to-face with a legion of drones.

He grinned as he focused on the charges he had strapped to Straxus’s back. The Space Bridge would have survived their assault; they had brought only enough explosives to destroy its control system, but the Decepticons no doubt had blueprints of that. No doubt they had blueprints of all of it--no, it was better to destroy their leader, for whom they could have no blueprints.

He threw Straxus into the Vehicon drones and ducked back into the safety of the walls of Darkhold, feeling only the heat and the rumble of the explosion that had surely torn apart the Decepticon leader and his troops. Then, wounded, Ultra Magnus clutched at his chest to keep his insides from falling out, then stumbled his way out of Darkhold through the Autobots’ long-concealed secret entrance, back to Autobase, to tell the others that the battle was won, that Straxus was dead.

***

On the other side of the Space Bridge, Blaster looked up to the blue sky filled with white clouds in amazement. He had never seen something so extraordinary as a planet with an atmosphere lightening the black void to blue; he had never imagined anything like clouds. He gaped in awe, and would have cried, had he the capability--such a pure place, untainted by war, its atmosphere unburned by eons of war, was what every Autobot fought to preserve, though it had cost them their own homeworld. He felt as if he had been lifted into the very dreams of Primus, and his spark rejoiced.

And then he looked down from the sky, to the ground before him, and he saw an enormous city of purple and black towers, silver and steel glinting in the yellow light of this world’s sun. In the city walked robots every bit his equal in size, moving equipment and weapons of war into place. And on the highest spire of the city, emblazoned as great as in the largest stronghold on Cybertron, stood the ancient symbol of the Decepticons.

Next Time: "Enter: The Nemesis!"

Spider-Man #1 - Endless Cycle

Spider-Man #1

By Karl V.

Original Plot by Aldalin

"Endless Cycle"

It's a rather quiet night. Only a few robbers and muggers that I helped bring down. I think the boys in the blue could do without a certain web head tonight! Time to get back to...

As his head buzzed like a loud alarm clock, a horrid blood-chilling scream broke out.

...Business...Hook, line, and slinger!

He swung to the scene of the shrill sound as a darting sensation went off in his head. "Well, there's the Spider sense again. I guess I can't clock out yet. "

The fleeing woman ran right past the upside down costumed hero without noticing him.

"Ok, I'm in for it if they don't spot me." He peeked out from the alleyway to witness a set of five bulky short robots walking in a precise formation.

"Why me? If not Spider Slayers there's always the next version of Sentinels. I could use an X-team right about now, although I do have some extra Slingers I could call in."

One robot glanced directly toward the hero. "Target Acquisition: Designate Spider-Man."

I need to stop talking out loud. Spider-Man leaped right in front of the quintuplet of Sentinels. "The one and only! Can I help you boys with something?"

"10% probability that Designate Five has taken the form of his adversary. Implement capture to eliminate all probability." One jet-black robot droned.

"Uh oh, in other words," Spider-Man felt yet another alert sound off in his head, "move!"

Spider-Man leaped out of the way of a capture net that sprung from the robot's hand.

"Target has resisted capture. Factor raised by 20% probability." Another seemed to move quicker and faster towards Spider-Man.

"You guessed it, I'm double the trouble and then some!" Spider-Man spewed forth webbing from his wrist on the optics of the Sentinels. "Now mind telling me who this Designate Five is?"

"Webbing compound composed of various chemical compositions and not organic. Factor lowered to 15% probability. " The robots easily tore the webbing off their optics with their hands.

"Okay, this is not good. Where's Arnold when you need him?" Spider-Man shot some webbing at the bottom of the Sentinels feet. They tugged at the goo for a moment and then regained their freedom.

They still came lurching towards the web crawling hero. Okay, Spidey. Two choices, I can try and fight five robotic guards all by your lonesome probably get yourself almost killed, and find out what make these things tick. Or, give your self up in hopes they just accidentally release some information on this designate Five. Gee, hard choice.

"All right, you got me." Spider-Man jumped once more in front of their path. "Test away."

The five robots looked at each other as the one in the middle stepped forward. "Testing requires all Designates to be rendered unconscious." The lead construct buzzed.

As Spider-Man's sixth sense went off, he looked down to see a dart in his leg. "Oh no..."

After pulling the small sharp object out, Spider-Man fell to sleep as he heard only a few more words.

"...Beginning...emit...0%..."

***

Spider-Man awoke to a gathering crowd of pedestrians, one of which was the screaming lady.

"Are you okay?" She whispered softly in his ear.

"Ouch. I have a killer headache from that dart but I'll be fine. Did anyone take off my mask?"

"No, I made sure of that. It was the least I could do." She smiled as she waved the intrigued pedestrians away. "Come on, just give him some air!"

Spider-Man got up and shook his head in hopes of getting rid of the banging in his head. "Thanks. I don't suppose you saw where those misfit metal heads went?"

"They took off in the air after they pointed their finger at you. I don't know what the heck they were doing but all the dogs in the neighborhood went nuts."

Spider-Man rubbed his chin. "I heard something about emitting before I got knocked out. Well, I'll save that for later. This Spider has to get back to his web!"

He leaped forward and grabbed onto a wall as he shot another string of webbing at a lamppost. He swung quickly all the way back home.

***

The Next Morning...

"WHERE IS THAT PARKER?" The infamous boss with a buzz cut yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Right here!" Peter rushed in as J. Jonah Jameson gave a deep stare at the boy.

I wasn't late today! I wonder what's up the old...

"TODAY PARKER!" Jonah opened the door to his office.

Uh oh.

The head of The Daily Bugle put down a plain brown envelope on the desk. "Go ahead open it kid."

For once, Peter was at a loss. He never has heard the level of sincerity in Jonah's voice before. "What's this?" He grabbed it and pulled out a color photo.

"Personally, I think it's a hoax. It has Eddie Brock written all over it." Jameson put his hands on his desk and lowered his head for a moment. "But with all these reports of armored guards and robots cropping up, my journalistic instinct can't avoid any possibility."

BROCK! I wondered where he disappeared.

Peter glanced at the photo. The picture had a bottom of a mountain with a military base that surrounded it. Peter did a double take as he spotted a peculiar large bulge sticking out of the mountain.

"What the heck is that?" Peter turned it every which way to try and guess at the odd shapes.

"You know for someone your age, I would assume you would know the tail end of a spacecraft when you see one. "

Peter finally snapped out of his denial and tried to gauge the size of the ship. "If this is a mountain, then this thing has got to be huge."

"It's a volcano to be more precise. Mt. Saint Hillary is what the note that came with it said. I want you to go there and confirm this. Personally, I think that Brock is trying to pull a fast one on me. But, this is something I can't ignore. Brock has never been one to not take advantage of the situation to make a name for him. He sent this anonymously."

Is it me or is Jameson talking to me like I am Brock? It must be all that is happening. The old guy is about to crack.

"Well, if it's a military base, I doubt I could even get past the guards." Peter explained to Jonah. At least, not just as Peter Parker, he thought to himself.

"Well, you always manage it somehow Parker. I know your still friends with that web slinging idiot, so I suggest you use that to your advantage."

Whoa, J.J. Jameson just told me to use Spider-Man to get a picture. Now, this is BAD!

"Well, the plane leaves in an hour. I suggest you plan accordingly. And, Parker..." Jonah practically muttered the next words beneath his breath. "... be careful."

"Will do chief!" Peter hastily departed back for home. He took the quicker route in his web swinging gear.

***

Ok, it's obvious by now that Venom's involved. Jonah was right about the picture, it stuck out like a sore thumb to me too, since a photo is like a thumbprint to an experienced Journalist. I just need to find that symbiotic simpleton but I need to keep my day job more. I hate it when I have to make snap decisions. Ouch! Bad pun, even for me!

Peter entered his room as he quickly put a set of clothes over his costume. As he grabbed the needed camera equipment, Mary Jane entered.

"An assignment somewhere else?" She queried with a bit of sparked interest.

"Oregon." Peter replied in a monotone voice.

Mary Jane gazed deeply into her husband's eyes. "Peter?"

"I have to confirm a photograph sent by Brock." The room remained silent for a brief and eerie moment. "It was a picture of a big spaceship lodged in a volcano."

Mary Jane seemed a bit stunned by the news although she was accustomed to most things ever since she knew her husband was Spider-Man.

"Any idea of who or what the occupants were?" She found herself open to the possibility.

Peter bowed his head a bit. "I'm going to find out."

Mary Jane grabbed her husband and hugged him. "I'll take you to the airport. And, you had better be careful mister or else."

Peter briefly smiled. "Aren't I always?"

The drive was a quiet and rather somber one. Mary Jane's smile picked up Peter every time but he could not help but think of what laid ahead.

Peter's spider sense went off as the car came to a screeching sudden stop as Mary Jane yelled in panic.

Peter looked ahead to see what the problem was. VENOM! And those five robots I met earlier are thrashing him!

Before Mary Jane could say anything, Peter hopped out of the car and quickly looked for a place to change into his costume. Peter searched for a discrete area to change into his superhero persona. He spotted a nearby outhouse close to a construction area.

"I guess they found Designate Five." Spider-Man swung in like Tarzan and grabbed the ailing Venom from danger. "Hey tall dark and gruesome."

Come on Brock, I don't want you to go out on me yet.

"It's about time you..." Venom passed out from the punishment that the Sentinels had dished out.

Damn!

"Designate: Spider-Man relinquish Designate Five immediately or prepare for termination." One of robots droned as it began pursuit of the two.

"Sorry rust bucket but only I have rights to use Designate Five as a punching bag." Spider-Man twirled a line around the robot's legs as it landed on the ground with a heavy thud.

The other four seemed to grow more intent on their new directive of eliminating the web-slinging obstacle as they moved faster and with more precision.

"Uh oh, they've gone into second gear!" Spider-Man yelled as he evaded several laser blasts from the robot's hands. Spider-Man carried Venom in one arm as he swung away from the crowded area.

Spider-Man reached a barren back lot area and placed Venom in a trash receptacle before the robots reached him.

"Put Eddie where he belongs and now to do the same with those tin plated terrors." Spider-Man turned his attention toward the five robots that rounded the corner as if on cue.

"Designate: Spider-Man, your interference with these Units' objectives requires full implementation of armament systems."

"In other words, you've been authorized to use full force! It won't do you much good to find out where Designate Five is, if I'm dead."

To the awestruck Spider-Man, the robots immediately stopped and seemed as though to think about his statement.

Whoa boy, these things are not like all the others. They have a brain!

"Designate: Spider-Man please divulge last known coordinates of Designate Five or face full..."

"Yeah, ok. I can take a hint. He went that way." Spider-Man pointed in a general direction that led the Robot's away from the area.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Search Mode Implemented." The robots began scanning the area with high frequency waves.

Obviously not smart enough to know a lie when they hear it.

Spider-Man waited until the Sentinels disappeared in the distance to retrieve Venom.

"Peter what is that...." Mary Jane shrieked at the site of Peter supporting Eddie Brock.

Peter quickly put Eddie in the back of the car, then entered the passenger side.

"I missed my flight. Jonah will get a bit steamed but not once I tell him about the snap shots of those robots."

"Mr. Parker, what about him?" Mary Jane gazed darkly at Brock then back at Peter.

I think I was better off with those Sentinels, Peter gulped.

"He and his 'other' took quite a few blows, I doubt he's in any position to be a threat. Besides, he is the one that contacted J.J. Jameson anonymously. "

"Others.... Overseer...Five...Xenotech..." Eddie was incoherently babbling.

Mary Jane grimaced at the sound of his voice. "What is he going on about?"

"I don't know but I intend to find out."

The drive back was eerie and foreboding as Brock continued to ramble in his dazed state.

After Mary Jane pulled up, Peter grabbed Brock and helped him go inside. Peter put Brock on the couch.

"I need to ask a favor. Watch him. Call in the Avengers or anyone else if he gives you trouble." Peter hugged Mary Jane.

"Okay, Tiger. I'll do just that. But you owe me big time." She hugged back.

Peter smiled from ear to ear. "I have to go back to the office and clear things up with old J.J."

"And Peter, be careful." She kissed him passionately.

"You too." He winked then departed for the Bugle.

Mary Jane instantly picked up the phone as soon as he left.

"WHAT? Parker these photos better be good or else the cancellation fee is coming out of your check." Johan hit the desk in a fit.

Typical, Peter resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

Jonah shook his head and continued. "Well, your fortunate it works out for the better anyway. I got to thinking about Brock's picture; he must have found work somewhere. So I dug up all I could on him, and found a boatload of pictures shouting his name. They were mostly on those good for nothing magazines like National Enquirer. Then, I found these."

Jonah put a pile of magazines on the desk. "All these are conspiracy theorist magazines, all of them had pictures or small stories from Brock."

Peter watched the magazines tumble to the floor. "He's been rather busy."

"That's not the half of it. All his stories or pictures had a location." Jonah pulled a map down with several red dots scattered all through out on it.

Peter quickly noticed a small circle area that had no dots at all. He looked closer as he saw the state of Oregon and in the center of the circle a small triangle, which indicated a mountain or, in this case, a volcano.

"Mount Saint Hillary." Peter read the name outloud for emphasis.

Jonah nodded. "It's too coincidental if you ask me. Brock may not be that bright, but he knows how to pull a fast one. I don't want you to wait until tomorrow. Leave on the next possible flight and confirm this as soon as possible. This will be ground breaking news, and I want the Bugle to be the first to get it out."

Despite Jameson's enthusiasm, Peter noted a bit of hostility as though Jonah wanted him to leave.

"Is something wrong?"

"Nothing, " Jameson lied through his teeth, "I want you to confirm it Parker. I don't want any ifs, ands, or buts. I want verifiable proof in my hands. Now, you're wasting time, GO!"

Peter ran out the door as he replied back. "Yes, sir!"

I wonder why this has Jonah so spooked...

As Jameson watched the door shut, he pulled another photo from his desk.

"For your sake, I hope this another one of Brock's tricks Parker." He let the picture fall on his desk, as he gazed at it with spite.

"Because if you do confirm it, then you also will prove that you are that web slinging maniac."

The photo on the desk was a shot of Spider-Man taking off his mask and revealing Parker's face.

X-Men #1 - Paranoia

X-Men issue #1 by David Cousens.

"Paranoia".

You don’t want to sleep tonight.

Certainly you need to sleep, you’ve been drained for the last three days now, but you don’t want to sleep.

Actually you’re afraid to, aren’t you?

You’ve been having nightmares which have been unsettlingly realistic. Having nightmares is nothing new to you, but these are something more, a haunting familiarity surrounds these dreams of yours.

As Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men, you have only had dreams this intense once before. These dreams were due to the arrival of the Shiar Empress Lilandra, an alien woman who you have found yourself close to in recent times. Although your feelings towards Lilandra are now positive her first arrival signified the death of one soul entrusted to you. A death that broke your heart.

There was something about Lilandra’s alien brainwaves that disturbed your dreams to an extent that you thought that you were going mad. That scared you, didn’t it?

The thought that you, the most powerful mind on the planet could be losing control.

You lost control recently, didn’t you? You went against everything that you hold dear and abused your gift. You stole a mans mind, which infected you, corrupted you. You became Onslaught, the physical representation of everything that you oppose and this time you broke the hearts of those who loved you. You tried to kill them. You almost succeeded. You must never lose control again. Yet your dreams now control you.

You can’t help it can you. Your mind is still strong, but your body is weak. You need to sleep, you cannot physically continue without rest. You are afraid.

You are dreaming. You are in the dark. You call out but there is no answer, save the echo of your own voice. You cannot see where you are. You are not in control.

As you strain your eyes, you can make out some unearthly shapes. Your eyes must be adjusting to the light. You can see something. It is large. You try harder to recognise what it is that you are so close to. It is still unclear to you. Straining you pull yourself nearer to the object with your arms, your legs trail you awkwardly. You stretch out your hand, hoping that a physical connection will help you ascertain the silhouette’s identity. You touch it. It is cold, almost like...metal?

What on Earth is it that you are now leaning on? This thought makes you panic. Suddenly, you are falling. You feel restricted, yet at the same time too vulnerable. You are falling. Again you are enveloped in an uncomfortable darkness. You feel tense and anxious. You are vulnerable.

Wait! Is that a light?

Again you strain your vision and suddenly, unexpectedly you are no longer falling. You feel in control of your movements now. But you are floating?

You gradually realise that the light has now become many lights, each small yet beautiful. It dawns upon you that these are stars, yet you are not floating in the sea gazing from below. You are gently riding a celestial current as if you were born to. An odd feeling of tranquillity sets upon you. You entertain it, peace is a sensation alien to you. You gaze upon the beauty with the wonder of a child. Suddenly your attention is drawn to an oddly blue star. A pang of anxiety makes itself known and the contentment gives way to concern. You are drawn to this star.

You concentrate, giving the blue spectre your full focus. Without warning a second, much smaller apparition begins to emerge. It seems to be faint orange. You are uncertain. A third, darker sprite fades into view. The orange and purple begin to move erratically. It reminds you of fireflies dancing in the dusk. No not dancing, fighting!

The two begin to collide. Intertwined they start to silently spiral. Haphazardly they drop through the infinite chasm of space falling much like you had. You look further down wondering where the descent will take them. You see a familiar green and blue sphere. It’s Earth.

You hurriedly pursue, worried for your home. You must understand the situation in order to control it. You must be in control.

You are swiftly moving through the Earth’s atmosphere now, following the ebony trail of the celestial voyagers. You are now close enough to see that the faint images in detail. They are starships!

These ships are alien to you, a thought that you would surely find ironic if you had the time to dwell upon it. The amalgamated vessel is hurtling towards the surface almost deliberately. Suicide certainly.

You find yourself engulfed with black smoke without warning. You were so immersed when looking at the starships you did not notice that whatever is being vented from the merged vehicle was directly in your path. With your vision totally obscured you lack both understanding and control.

You hurtle backwards unexpectedly, no longer in control of your movements. You are being moved away by some unknown current against your will. Then, again without warning, you collide with the noise. Unbearable, uncomfortable, overwhelming noise. Your mind recalls someone once telling you that you never realise an explosion until it has already happened.

The smoke clears from your eyes, you quickly assess the situation. You can see that there is wreckage by the base of the volcano. You move closer to investigate the debris, then you realise there are two shards of metal from the crash that are being propelled to a direct collision with you. You cannot bring yourself to close your eyes, in stead they focus intently on the incoming shrapnel. You are unable to defend yourself. You are not in control. You manage to make out two faces; they are obviously different but connected somehow. You squint your eyes, preparing for the two symbols to impact with your face, you memorise them just before they blur together and-

You scream! You are awake again.

Jean Summers jerked her head up, startled.

"Huh?" She murmured quietly.

"Jeanie?"

Jean looked at her long-time friend Hank slightly dazed. She smiled to reassure him.

"Yes Hank?"

Henry P McCoy raised his blue brow with a touch of concern. "You appeared to be momentarily distracted by something other than my intriguing exposition."

"Oh no. It was nothing" Jean hesitated and craned her head back towards the Mansion. "The Professor just had another one of those nightmares that have been plaguing him recently, that’s all."

Hank smiled. Jean was obviously concerned for their mentor. He stopped walking down the gravel path and put his large blue hand on Jean’s bare shoulder.

"It’s probably nothing to worry about. We all suffer from nightmares from time to time" Hanks tone quickly changed from sensitive to jovial. "However I did warn our esteemed teacher not to indulge his cravings for late night pizza. The cheese does strange things to ones mind!"

Jean smiled at Hanks attempt. He was right after all. It was just a dream that she sensed Xavier awakening from, one of the negative side effects of being a telepath living in a house with eight other people.

Still, I might tell Scott later...

A loud, youthful and exuberant voice bellowed across the courtyard.

"Hey c’mon guys! Lets get moving!"

A long column of ice that stemmed from the mansions interior quickly grew past Jean and Hank and circled around them in a wide arc. "I wanna play in the pool!"

Jean was comfortable again now. Playfully, she eyed the enthusiastic Robert Drake who was still generating more ice to manoeuvre him from side to side.

"It’s okay Bobby you can go ahead and play..."Jean retorted, mock-condescendingly. "Us grown ups will get there in our own time."

Hank was standing next to Jean using his considerable bulk to carry everything the pair needed for the pond. Two deck chairs, a beach ball, a picnic basket, towels and a few other accessories were all effortlessly balance on his left shoulder. Both Hank and Jean were dressed appropriately for this lovely sunny July morning. Hank wore swimming trunks and a cheesy Hawaiian shirt with an intentionally bad pineapple motif. Jean was dressed in a more elegant yet equally casual style. Her flame red hair was tied back perfectly. She wore sunglasses that at this moment were perched on top of her head in order to tease the Iceman more effectively. An extremely sparse bikini revealed her exquisitely shaped body although she wore a translucent sarong to refrain from looking obvious.

" ‘Us grown ups’ huh?" Bobby quoted, whilst standing upright and elevating himself effortlessly higher by extending his supportive ice column. "Well now..."

Hank took a step back, instinctively knowing his friend’s mischievous streak. He smiled nervously.

"Bobby...?"

Jeans sarcastic expression gave way to one of light panic as Drake swiftly circled around them again.

"Robert Drake? Don’t you dar-"

Iceman span around the back of his two fellow mutants. With his arms extended he collided with them, soaring up into the sky with his friends as helpless passengers

"-AAAAAARRRREEEE!" Jean continued to scream as the trio sped through the sky clearing the distance between the courtyard and the pond in record time.

Bobby, whose torso was actually the front section of the ice sled, cheered. He was joined by Hank who couldn’t help but to laugh. Jean in contrast had just stopped screaming. Without warning Jean had become silent, her head as far back as her neck would allow with eyes as open as could be. Jean began coughing loudly.

Iceman looked concerned. "You okay there?"

"You’d best get us to the pond post-haste Mr. Drake." Hank advised. "I wouldn’t imagine that hurtling through the air at an immense velocity is alleviating Jean’s situation".

Iceman nodded.

Logan had his eyes closed. A chance to lie down and relax was something life didn’t allow the diminutive X-Man also known as Wolverine often.

His hyper-keen mutant senses allowed him to appreciate his surroundings fully.

The warmth of the morning sun, the playful giggle that Rogue made in reaction to something Gambit was whispering and the noise of splashing water that was being made by Cyclops and Storm, who were racing across the pond both trying to be the first to get back to the luxurious green grass.

Logan fully relaxed his weight into the deck chair that was supporting him. For once he could relax.

Wolverine detected a faint noise. It sounded like...coughing?

Wolverine opened his eyes a fraction, squinting into the sun. Straining against the blinding light, he made out something glistening.

Whatever it is, it’s sure movin’ fast.

He sat up in his chair and became aware of a very faint perfume and some deodorant, which was slightly more potent. Giving it his full concentration he was able to determine the voice what he was looking at, and more importantly who was coughing. With honed battle instincts, Logan leapt up to his feet and unsheathed his claws from his forearms, his eyes never leaving the airborne X-Men.

"Heads up Cajun! We got incoming!" Wolverine barked. Gambit and Rogue snapped their heads to look at Wolverine, their own instincts coming into play. "Rogue! Go get Storm and the Boy Scout! Tell ‘em we might have trouble!"

Rogue instantly took to the air, heading towards Cyclops and Storm while Gambit somersaulted forward into the air, using his mutant power to charge the towel in his hand, and landed next to his Canadian counterpart.

"What is it?" Gambit asked, ready to use the now glowing towel as an offensive, explosive weapon.

Wolverine gritted his teeth checking the periphery whilst still gazing at the incoming X-Men.

"Dunno, but Ice-boy’s got Jeannie and the Beast coming in fast and Jean don’t sound too good!"

The pair looked up as Iceman rapidly travelled over their heads with his charges. He dropped the Beast who effortlessly landed, dropped the chairs and other accessories and bounded towards Iceman who was now approaching land, lowering Jean carefully.

Gambit and Wolverine rushed towards Jean who was doubled over coughing.

"McCoy! What in blazes is going on?" Wolverine growled.

The Beast did not turn around. "I do not want to hypothesise at this moment Logan. I am busy."

Normally a remark that dismissive would have enraged Logan, but he could see that the Beast was attending to the woman who he would give his life for. With McCoy being the only current X-Man with extensive medical qualifications, Logan was not going to argue.

Hank brushed back a strand of his blue hair. "Jean? Can you tell me what is the main problem you are suffering from?"

Jean continued to cough and gasp. "Choking!" She croaked.

The other three X-Men stood around concerned and uncertain with the situation.

"Eureka!" Hank exclaimed. "I do believe I have correctly hypothesised and can remedy the plight of our most attractive and resident telepath!"

Logan looked even more irate than before. "Well quit flappin’ your gums and do something McCoy!"

"Of course." The Beast moved his muscular blue furred body around to the back of Jean and placed his arms around her?

"Quoi?" Gambit exclaimed.

"Beast? What’s going on?" Cyclops shouted as Rogue held him aloft. "What’s happening to Jean?"

Rogue and Storm landed, and Rogue put Cyclops on the floor. He ran to his wife’s side.

"Give me just one moment fearless leader and I do believe she will be able to answer herself."

The Beast pulled Jean into the air, courtesy of his enormous blue furred arms and Jean unceremoniously emitted a rather loud hacking sound. A solitary fly meandered out of her mouth and flew off into the air.

"What?" The reason that Jean was in trouble was because she swallowed a fly?" Iceman burst into hysterical laughter, quickly followed by the rest of the X-Men.

Jean composed herself. She glared at Iceman with a gaze that would give even him the chills.

Iceman’s laughter subsided partially. He eyed Jean nervously.

"Now Jean? Just because I-huh?"

Iceman found himself suspended in mid-air and moving very quickly towards the pond.

"X-Men! Report your status! I sensed concern..."

Professor Xavier’s telepathic shout made all of the X-Men wince slightly. The abruptness of the mental call caused Jean to lapse in her concentration, dropping the mischievous Robert Drake into the pond.

"It’s okay professor." Cyclops responded through the mind link. "It was just Bobby being immature. Don’t worry, he got what was coming to him!" Cyclops smiled as he saw his old friend scramble to the grass verge at the side of the pond.

"Professor?" Jean interrupted. "Is anything wrong? You had another one of your nightmares. I wondered if I could help?"

There was a slight pause while Xavier collected his thoughts. The other X-Men had returned to relaxing and Iceman was standing at the side of the pond, spitting out what seemed like a whole lung full of murky pond water.

"Ugh! I think I swallowed some frog-spawn!"

"No thank you Jean." The Professor answered. "You and the others enjoy the beautiful day we are having."

"Okay Professor. If you are sure."

"I’ll be fine Jean. Thank you." The Professors voice said reassuringly in her head.

Jean turned to Scott who smiled at her. She smiled back, putting her worries to the back of her mind. It was a lovely day and the X-Men don’t usually have the luxury of enjoying their surroundings. For once she was going to let her responsibilities go and enjoy herself. After if Scott, leader and heir to the X-men could do relax then she certainly could.

"Oh gross! I’ve got pond weed in my teeth!"

Charles Xavier wished to himself that he could spend the day relaxing with his students. Unfortunately the dreams...the nightmares that had been plaguing him had left him feeling uneasy. He looked out of his office window towards the pond. He let his mind comfortably wash over the thoughts of his students. Logan and Scott were both relaxing, something that hadn’t happened for a long time. Jean and Ororo were enjoying a woman’s talk, Gambit and Rogue were flirting harmlessly and Iceman had just pushed Hank into the pond. Once he had been assured that they were content he moved away from the window, aided by his hovering wheelchair to his desk. He activated his PC. Seeing as he couldn’t relax he may as well check his e-mail.

Once his computer had finished loading and had logged on to the Internet he received notification that he had new mail, 5 Messages in total.

One from Moira MacTaggart titled: "Legacy report". This was almost a routine now. Moira would send her findings from Muir Island to chart any progress on her research of the virus that she was inflicted with. Another 2 messages from the Massachusetts academy, one from Sean Cassidy and another from Emma Frost. Forge and Kitty Pride had also e-mailed over the course of the night. Xavier was just about to read the first message when a new mail appeared. It was marked urgent, something which Xavier was specifically particular about. Everybody who had his e-mail address was told that only emergencies were to be marked urgent. It was also anonymous.

His curiousity piqued, he opened the enigmatic file. The body of the mail was empty, but carried an attachment that read ‘findings’.

He opened the file and wondered what it was that he was looking at. He had had enough experience with government files to realise that what he was looking at was classified and had been encrypted.

A lot of the message was unclear. It appeared that the document had been garbled intentionally to mask certain key words and names, however other paragraphs had been left untouched.

The only discernible sections seemed to be unrelated. There was a clipping that mentioned a volcano, something about a new technological device that was being forwarded to an undisclosed source, a theory about a new energy source and a reference to a star system?

Immediately Charles Xaviers mind began racing.

The dream I had. That was another star system I am certain.

"Computer?" The computer chirped in response, waiting for a command. "Enhance image as far as possible."

One of the benefits of encountering the Shiar Emperium is that once the X-Men had assisted them, they were given the advanced technology the Emperium possessed. This included a computer system that rivalled and surpassed any technology from this world.

The computer emitted a pleasant chord to indicate that it had finished the task. Charles scanned over the document carefully. At first glance nothing appeared to have changed. He continued to scroll down the images on his screen when he came across an image that had been obscured by the volcano clipping. The computer had managed to enhance another cutting. It read:

The new energon power source has not proved as reliable as we had hoped. Whilst the exposure does activate the ‘deviant’ chromosome in some cases it does not affect others. As an additional problem, the mutation of the subjects’ cellular structure appears to be random. Each of the mutated subjects DNA seems to respond to the substance in a unique manner. There is no apparent pattern that can be determined at this time. It is unlikely that we will be able to successfully utilise the energon compound to create a sufficient defence force.

However I do feel that the random mutation element, given the correct spin, could divert attention from the crash itself. The public has developed a disturbing level of curiousity and distrust of the government in recent months, which verges on paranoia. If we distribute this energon in certain area’s of the country it has been predicted that a certain number of individuals would be born with the x-factor chromosome active. It has been theorised by our top psychological and sociological analysts that should these mutants begin turning up in areas that are not related to the Xenotech we appropriated, the public’s attention and suspicions would be misdirected leaving us with no interference or fear of exposure. We could use the fear of this unknown society of super-humans to cover our operations.

The rest of the message was indecipherable. Charles read the message again. And again. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The implications of this message were amazing.

The government discovering an energy source responsible for the birth of mutants? A worldwide smear campaign to protect their findings? This directly affects everything I have based my entire life on!

"That’s if this message is genuine." Charles said to himself. "This could be a deception from any number of our enemies. I must be sure."

Professor Xavier used his mental powers to summon the X-Men.

The war room was silent. Each member of the X-Men looked at the enormous view-screen in awe.

The tension was palpable. For five minutes straight, each person had stared intently analysing the images in front of them, none of them saying a word.

"It-it’s got to be a trick." Iceman broke the silence. "It could be Apocalypse or Sinister or Magneto. Or even Arcade."

There was more silence.

"I don’t know Bobby." Cyclops said his eyes still remaining fixed on the screen. "For some reason I get the impression that, as horrifying as it is, there may be truth behind it."

A collective shudder was felt across the room.

Wolverine walked closer to the image. "I’ve seen a lot of classified documents in my time, if somebody’s gone to the trouble of faking it fer our benefit, they’ve done a helluva good job."

Gambit raised his hand to his chin and gently stroked his stubble. "Could we find out where dis came from an’ check out the authenticity for ourselves?"

Wolverine looked over his right shoulder at Gambit. "You thinking what I’m thinking Cajun?"

Gambit nodded but maintained his gaze. "Could be. If dis is a forgery I can tell you. Come across enough in my time."

Wolverine turned to Cyclops. Even though Wolverine and Cyclops had come to blows in the past over Jean, Logan now had the utmost respect for Scott Summers. "If we go find the genuine article I could tell you if it smells as old as it looks."

Cyclops looked at the Professor. Charles had been his mentor and surrogate father since he was thirteen years old. He didn’t need his mentor’s ability to read thoughts at this moment. He could see the expression on Charles’ face. He was trying to mask it, but the founder of the X-Men feared the accuracy of these documents. He also believed that they were true. He didn’t want to, but it all seemed to make sense in a very perverted way.

"Hank, help the Professor analyse the attachment with the mansions computers. Use them to check for any evidence of tampering. And be thorough."

"We’ll try to find out where the file was sent from Scott." The Professor’s hover-chair moved towards the control console of the war room, he began to tap commands into the console. The Beast walked over and sat in a chair adjacent to the professor.

Cyclops turned to his wife. "Jean? I want you and Bobby to check with Moira and Sean. See if they received a copy of this. It may even be a good idea to with Domino if you can get a hold of her."

He looked at the others. "Storm has already left the mansion to check in on Cable. I asked her to help my son with something. She’s flying to Hell’s kitchen so we won’t be able to contact her yet, we’ll let her know about this as soon as we can."

The others nodded waiting for instructions. Wolverine, Gambit and Rogue were probably the best suited for the next task Cyclops had in mind. Wolverine was stealthy and had many years of experience of infiltration and reconnaissance. He was also very useful in case they ran into trouble. Logan can get the job done and fast. Gambit was a trained thief. He was born to break into places and steal things without leaving a trace. Rogue was the heavy hitter. She would be held in reserve in case they were discovered.

Cyclops was concerned about the emotional stress this might out on his team though. Gambit always liked to play things close to his vest and remain in control of the situation. Wolverine had been led to believe things about his origin before, which had all been falsified by one enemy or another. Each time a lie surfaced it only led to more confusion about Logan’s past, something which Cyclops was hoping to avoid. Wolverine becomes easy to manipulate when he is faced with another possibility of his uncertain past. Should this be a set up, Logan could easily slip into a berserker rage and the plan would backfire horribly. The person that worried him the most was Rogue.

If this energon story turns out to be true, then Rogue was cursed with her mutant powers as a means of distraction. Rogue has always been the X-Man who was least comfortable with her situation, mainly because it meant that she could never touch another human being unless she wanted to steal their memories and possibly kill them. This has tortured her for as long as she can remember. She has found herself plagued with the desire to be touched by someone even more recently. Ever since her powers were negated by the robot "Nanny" in Antarctica and she spent the night with Gambit she has been taking risks by making skin-to-skin contact with others. If she found out that she had suffered for all of this time just to serve as a distraction for the public who knows what effect that would have on her. Cyclops himself then realised that he too had sometimes felt he was cursed. Would this affect him later on? He ignored the thought. He had come to terms with his mutant ability years ago. He would help the others do the same if needs be.

"I want the three of you to be ready to leave as soon as we have a lead on the location of that e-mail. We are going to find out whether the information was accurate or not and then see how this situation will affect us. Idle speculation will do us no good at this time."

Wolverine nodded grimly. He was happy that the X-Men were not going to take this sitting down. Since Cyclops had returned as leader of the X-Men he felt that things were beginning to work again. He had the utmost respect for Storm, but he felt that Cyclops was always the natural leader. Gambit’s

Dark red eyes flickered towards Rogue and then moved back to Cyclops.

"How’re we gon’ play dis one Cyke?"

Cyclops stood tall. He had already formulated his strategy as soon as his eyes had left the view-screen.

"Gambit, you and Logan take the point. You’ll break into the complex and find the documents as quickly and quietly as possible. Keep a low profile. Rogue, you’ll wait with me outside in case Gambit and Wolverine are discovered, we’ll need to get them out of there at the first sign of trouble. Jean will keep us psi-linked at all times while she waits with Bobby in the Blackbird in case we need to make a fast exit."

Rogue looked longingly at Gambit for a moment. She snapped out of it as soon as he returned her gaze. "Just one thing Scott?"

"Yes?"

"How come y’all know that we’re gonna be breaking into a complex?"

Cyclops smiled almost cynically. "Well, they always store classified documents in a hidden complex!"

"The Blackbird is clear for take off, kids. Be careful."

"We will Hank. And no stealing my donuts from the freezer this time. You just keep playing with the computer!"

"Will do Snowball. Mansion out."

Iceman’s levity aside the atmosphere in the Blackbird was tense. One thing was certain; things would certainly change by the end of the night. The turbines ignited and the X-Men’s converted stealth fighter took to the night sky.

"Okay, the link is established." Jean confirmed. The X-Men could now all hear each other thanks to Jean’s telepathic link. Wolverine and Gambit left the hanger of the jet via its metallic blue loading ramp. Both of them were silent. They still had a good few hundred metres to travel before they reached the unmarked installation.

The Blackbird had managed to land undetected by flying in cutting the engines when they were close to their destination, Jean Summers, the Phoenix used her telekinesis to lower the jet down gently in the cover of the forest which encircled the enigmatic complex. The Beast, using his technical knowledge and the extensive Shiar technology at his disposal had been able to determine watermarked co-ordinates that were partially visible on the notepaper. Although both Cyclops and the Professor had remarked upon how easily it was to discover they had no choice but to follow the trail. Wolverine and Gambit had been briefed to find any mention of the word energon while the Beast and Professor Xavier were going to remain at the mansion searching through restricted files for any mention of the volcano, Xenotech or star systems.

With the darkness as cover, Gambit and Wolverine darted from bush to tree going unnoticed. Gambit hesitated and peered past the tree that was hiding him. His dark red eyes assessed the situation. His instincts were gnawing at him.

"Logan? You notice sometin’ odd ‘bout dis?"

Wolverine heard Gambit’s voice in his mind. He stopped and looked around. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier. "Yeah Cajun. There’s no guards."

The night became as silent as it was dark. The clouds fortunately obscured the moon, something Storm would have normally seen to had she been around. The X-Men would have preferred the night to be foggy, but it was eerily quiet and calm.

Inside the Blackbird the X-Men stirred. "A secret installation with no guards?"

"Bobby." Cyclops politely silenced his friend. "Proceed with caution. Expect anything."

The leader of the X-Men suddenly remembered a riddle he had heard once long ago.

What is the one thing that everyone seeks, but no one truly has?

Cyclops wondered why that particular question had come into his mind. He decided to dismiss the thought, his friends were relying on his full concentration.

Gambit surveyed the complex again. He motioned towards a tree not far off his position. Wolverine nodded. Security camera. The damned thing covered the exact area that they needed to cross. They didn’t have time to find another route. Something had to be done.

Remy LeBeau, ‘the Ragin’ Cajun’ deployed his trademark smirk. He flipped out a playing card and hid it inside his jacket. With the card obscured, he could kinetically charge it without drawing attention. With a speed that defied even Wolverine’s enhanced perception, Gambit threw the card at the camera causing a very quiet, very contained explosion. Only a faint orange glow was left on the tree.

With the camera gone, the duo examined the locations of the other cameras, determining how to break in. Wolverine made a hand motion to Gambit.

Like two dark spectres they began to move towards their goal.

Cyclops felt something stir within him. He knew that the two X-Men out there were the best choice, yet he always had the same nagging sensation when he was relying on someone else.

Cyclops realised why the riddle had come to him.

You always feel that no matter how good your team is, they would always do better if you were there.

Because if you were in their place, you would be in control.

"Who controls the past commands the future. Who commands the present conquers the past."

--George Orwell