Author's note: Completely disregard the events of Beast Machines. This tale takes place following the events of The Nemesis: Part II.
From little spark may burst a mighty flame.
—Dante, Paradise (canto I, l. 34)
In the highest tower of the largest Predacon space station orbiting the golden planet of Cybertron, the Tripredacus Council reconvened.
"Deep-space scanners indicate the presence of an Autobot shuttle," intoned the councilmember on the left, fingers dancing intricately along the tabletop.
"Any visuals?" the center member inquired.
"Grainy at best. It seems to be carrying a missile, or cargo, on the back."
The right-most councilmember frowned. "An ancient Autobot shuttle? There is but one in the Cybertropolis Museum of Great War History; the rest were decommissioned and smelted."
Center waved Right's musings away with a curt gesture. "Where it came from is no matter; where it is heading, is."
Left continued with his report. "Trajectory has it heading towards the Cybertropolis Spaceport."
Growls rolled from three vocalizers, rumbling across the table and down into the bowels of the tower. "The Spaceport is owned by that cursed noblemech, is it not?" Center snarled, realizing that whatever advantage they might have had was nil. "The ex-Autobot?"
Right curled his hand over his chin. "Yes, it is. What is his name?"
Left leaned forward. "Mirage."