Once, it was humankind's ultimate goal to send one of its own to Earth's moon. It was its mission, its dream, for mankind to take that first glorious step onto the barren ground of a faraway land.

I have no idea what the big hurry was, because the moon isn't really that great.

It's completely cold and devoid of life. Only a transformer could survive here, and not even us decepticons would even want to. In spite of that, we were using the earth's moon as our base. We thought the autobots would never be able to find us here. We were wrong.

The darkness and coldness of the place did nothing for us now, except remind us of our failure. We had picked the most desolate, most faraway place possible from Earth, and we had still managed to get robbed of every single minicon we had. The sole exceptions were our partner minicons, who had been with us when the autobots arrived.

Oh, and the oh-so-charming lunar scenery? Megatron was outside destroying it at that very moment.

He had taken the Requiem Blaster and was using it to demolish the terrain surrounding the minicon ship we used as our base. It was quite a spectacle, actually. Demolisher, Cyclonus, Wheeljack, and I were all gathered around a large, rather gaping hole in the side of the ship, watching. Why exactly, I wasn't really sure. We were bored, I guess.

While Megatron was outside pretty much laying waste to the moon, I spent this time to think about some things, like the minicons, for instance. I'm referring, of course, to the fact that the decepticons barely had any anymore, but it's not just that. For several weeks, the minicon radar had not been going off nearly as often as it used to. Minicon excursions became less and less frequent, until finally they just stopped altogether. It seemed official: "Planet Earth is out of minicons."

On top of that, the autobots now had all of ours. All the months we'd spent on Earth, gone to waste. Megatron was certain, everyone was certain, that the minicons were the key to winning the Cybertronian Wars. The minicons had the ability to boost our power tenfold. It was the whole reason we'd come to Earth, and the moon, in the first place.

Now that the autobots had nearly all of them, and there weren't anymore on Earth, all kinds of questions were being raised. Like: "So, now what should the decepticons do?" "Can we go home now?" "Is the war over?"

"Do we lose?"

That last one was the biggest. Everyone was wondering, including me. Did we lose? Had our leader failed us? We all had those questions, but nobody was quite suicidal enough to ask Megatron. We weren't that stupid.

As my thoughts continued, it occurred to me that it my be partially my fault that we were in the position we were in now. Of course, it was mainly Starscream's, but he might not have been able to lead the autobots here if it wasn't for me. Or maybe he would have. We'll never know now, will we?

I had known about Starscream's dilemma. I knew that Megatron and Thrust were plotting against him. I had witnessed the abuse and humiliation he'd gone though. So, I wasn't at all surprised when he rebelled and vowed to join the enemy. What did catch me off guard was my reaction.

I had been in the warp room working on… something; I don't even remember what it was now. Starscream had gone to the throne room moments before. Suddenly, I heard someone shouting and then a crash from the floor above. There were blasting sounds, like someone was firing shots. More shouting. Finally, Starscream ran into the room where I was.

I turned around. Starscream was at the door, staring at me with hate filled eyes. He looked positively deranged. I didn't recognize him. In his hand, he was wielding the Star Saber.

I knew he would not hesitate to kill me, judging by the way he looked at me. I stepped out of the way, not wanting to be sliced in half. He sped right past me without looking back.

I remember some other things, but I won't bore you with every little detail. One thing I will tell you is that Megatron ordered me to stop him, and I refused. It wasn't because I was afraid or anything. I just… felt like I shouldn't, that's all. Call it intuition or call it a silly whim. I don't care.

Then I did something even more daring.

Seeing that I wouldn't help him, Megatron started to stop Starscream himself. Without thinking, I held him back and shouted at Starscream to run. Run, I'd said, Run and don't look back. At the time I didn't consider the fact that what I was doing was completely insane; it just seemed right. I felt like Starscream should choose his own destiny and not have his fate decided for him.

Well, Megatron made me pay for that one. Severely. But that didn't matter really. In the end, I healed. Eventually. And even though it was, arguably, Starscream's doing that got me punished, I didn't blame him. Some people might have, but I didn't.

'It's because you worry about him,' a familiar voice stated in my head.

I started slightly as the voice of my minicon, Racket, pulled me out of my trip down memory lane. 'Why do you say that?' I asked telepathically.

'Because you couldn't kill him. You told Megatron you were going to finish him off, and you didn't,' he replied.

That was true, I had to admit. I had promised Megatron that I would kill Starscream as punishment for leaving the decepticons. I figured I wouldn't have any difficulty doing it. After all, he was an autobot now. The enemy.

Except I couldn't. I couldn't do it. Of course, I dueled Starscream during the raid on our base, and I nearly defeated him. But when it came time to deliver the final blow, I hesitated. Starscream wisely chose that moment to escape.

Sometimes I wonder about myself. Why did I let Starscream go? Why couldn't I finish him off? I often think that I'm not like most decepticons.

Further more, I was annoyed at Racket for reminding me of that little incident.

'Do you have to be right about everything?' I asked him, slightly miffed.

'I apologize, M'lady,' he said courteously.

For some reason, Racket has always called me "M'lady." It was kind of flattering when we first met, but now it's just annoying. Racket knows that it bothers me, of course. That's probably why he's kept it up.

I turned my attention back to the lunar landscape that was being decimated right before our eyes. Suddenly, Megatron whipped out the Requiem Blaster and fired it. The pink blast hit a nearby mountain. There was a blasting noise and then a sort of a "pop," and the mountain was gone. It had ceased to exist, wiped off the face of the moon.

Cyclonus, who is not entirely right in the head, thought the whole ordeal was hilarious. He cackled insanely and said, "Megatron looks a little testy today, huh?" I really didn't understand what was so funny. No one knows, or really cares to know, how Cyclonus's mind works.

"Do you blame him?" came Demolisher's reply, "The autobots got away with all the minicons after the last battle, remember?" The two of them do this a lot: tell each other things they each already know. It's not a big deal.

From behind came footsteps. Loud, booming, metallic footsteps. Transformers are not known for being light on their feet. Then, a voice. It was a familiar voice, but I sometimes wish it wasn't because I absolutely loathe the person it belongs to. Thrust. "Any of you ladies going to do any work today, or are you going to stand around chatting with one another?" he said hotly.

Demolisher turned around angrily, and I narrowed my eyes and looked behind me. Thrust was standing right behind us, trying to look important. It wasn't just Demolisher and I that hated him; I honestly don't think there is a single person in the base that can stand him. He had been honored by the decepticons for being a successful military tactician, so when the decepticons began to have a rather troubling losing streak, Megatron had called him in from Cybertron. Since coming here, however, his success rate has plummeted, and he was a failure in our eyes. And, on the one occasion when his planning proved successful, guess who had gotten all the credit. Not us, risking our lives in the front line of battle, but Thrust, who always hung around in the back, out of the autobots' range of fire.

His appearance was also rather ridiculous. His alternate mode was a jet, but when he transformed, instead of the nose cone folding down below his chest, like it did with Starscream, it folded up to become part of his head, giving him the rather comical appearance of always wearing a dunce cap. It suited him.

Earlier on the same day Starscream left the decepticons, he had punched Thrust into a wall and beat him rather violently. No one, not even Megatron, had protested. Wheeljack had raised a small note of concern, but not even he had moved to save Thrust.

The very same Thrust was now standing behind us, glowering like we were less than dirt.

"If we're short of minicons, then you're the ones responsible for building the spaceship. Now why don't you get to work?" he yelled.

"Huh?" asked Cyclonus, like the whole concept of work was completely new to him. "Boy, just when we had something really good to gossip about!" he continued, chuckling madly. Again, I really don't understand what was so funny.

"Gossip? Really, Cyclonus? What are you, an old woman?" I asked. I followed them anyway. The spaceship was important, after all. It was our ticket off this wasteland back home. Once we finish it, Megatron had promised, we will return to Cybertron and destroy the autobots once and for all.

Cyclonus had actually had the nerve to ask, "If the plan all along was to go back to Cybertron, then what the heck did we come here for?" Megatron had responded by slapping him across the face and calling him an imbecile.

We had been using the minicons to construct the ship, but since we didn't have any anymore, the task fell onto ourselves. Joy.

As I walked down the hall, I turned around to see if Thrust would help us build the ship. I seriously doubted that he would, because the bot never does any work at all, but it never hurts to check. I turned around just in time to see Thrust run out of the hole in the wall and fly away. This struck me as odd, seeing as there was nothing out there but a gray wasteland and a slightly crazed Megatron. Then I began to feel nervous.

The truth is, lately I was starting to get a little concerned about Thrust's sanity. It was descending quicker than his success rate. It was a rather sudden, drastic change. Thrust had never been likeable, but we he had first arrived he had been calm, cool, and very sure of himself. I don't know if it was his multiple failures, a desperate need to prove himself, the corruption of power, or a combination of the three, but lately his voice had an extra note of shrillness and panic to it, his plans were getting more and more desperate, and he the way he spoke suggested he was not far from being reduced to a raving lunatic. To put it frankly: Thrust had gone off the deep end.

Just what was he up to, flying off by himself? I wondered. I shook my head and walked off, deciding that it didn't matter. There was nothing out there, after all. What harm could Thrust do on his own. And if he got lost among the rocks and duct, too bad. Besides, the ship was what really mattered now. To Cybertron and to victory.

The sooner we get off this rock, the better.