That was the only word to describe the gray, barren expanse below. Jagged rock formations and the rusted, battered hulks of hastily constructed buildings served to break the monotony of the landscape, but did nothing to add color or beauty. No trees or plants grew in the little soil available, no animals or birds or insects lived among the rocks and ruins. Only a dry, cold wind moved upon the gray plains, hissing and howling like an invisible beast as it scoured every surface with airborne grit, as if seeking to scrub the planet clean of any vestige of life.

High on a cliff overlooking the plain, a lone Decepticon Seeker surveyed the lay of the land, heedless of the wind that battered and pulled at her armor. Gleaming silver and violet, with a black helm and glowing scarlet optics, she was the sole spot of color in the bleak landscape. The elements seemed to take offense at this, and the wind lashed at her, throwing dust and sand at her plating, tugging at her wings like it was seeking to pull her over the edge.

She paid the wind no heed, however. Her optics were fixed on the horizon, half-lidded in concentration. It was as if she were waiting for something, her gaze expectant.

Slowly, with utmost caution, she took another step, placing herself at the very edge of the cliff. The rock beneath her feet crumbled slightly, sending a shower of pebbles down the cliff face, but she didn't back away from her precarious perch. For a sparkbeat she stood there, balanced upon the precipice.

Then she shuttered her optics, tensed her knee joints, and leaped.

For a few moments she let gravity have its way, reveling in the pump-stopping sensation of freefall. Then she kicked her antigravs into gear at the last possible second, slowing her fall to a halt a few scant yards before impact. She hovered there a moment, then activated her thrusters, sending herself hurtling skyward.

An exhilarated laugh burst from her vocalizer as she tore through the sky, relishing the feel of wind rushing over her chassis, her wings slicing through the air like twin blades. As a sparkling she had always loved to fly, but somehow the experience was greatly enhanced in her Seeker form. There was something about feeling the wind against one's wings that was as intoxicating as a cube of high grade.

She climbed higher, then higher still… then abruptly cut power to her thrusters. She hung in the air for a moment that seemed an eternity, then began to drop to the earth. Again the rush of freefall seized her, a thrill that bordered on panic coursing through her systems. Every preprogrammed instinct screamed for her to reactivate her thrusters or antigravs and stay her fall, but she resisted, merely stretching her arms and legs out in a spread-eagle position to slow her descent slightly.

Wait for it… wait for it… NOW!

She sent a pulse of energy, not to her thrusters or antigravs, but to her transformation cog. Immediately she felt herself split apart, limbs and components twisting and clicking into their new places, her systems reconfiguring themselves to fit her new form. It wasn't painful or even unpleasant, but it was still a moment of disorientation for her as her CPU adjusted to the sudden shift in body shape.

Finally the last plate of armor locked into place, completing her new form. Her transformation done, she finally activated her thrusters and pulled up, leveling off about thirty feet from the ground and roaring over the desolate plain.

Had a human been present, they might have recognized her alternate mode – an Earth-based fighter jet, specifically an F-14 Tomcat. There were those among the Decepticons that mocked such Earth-based forms, claiming they were inferior to Cybertronian alt modes, but she preferred to ignore the naysayers. There was something about the sleek build of the humans' jets that couldn't compare to the clunky tetrajets or the alien shapes of Cyclonus and the Sweeps.

And even if this wasn't the exact same form Thundercracker had worn, it still helped her feel closer to the mech to wear a similar alt mode.

She slalomed back and forth, weaving between the jagged rock formations. One accidental clip of her wingtip against a boulder could end in disaster at speeds like this, but she didn't slow down. A few times collision warnings flashed in her readout as she passed too close to a formation, but she took those as accomplishments rather than danger. She might not be the fastest or most powerful mech in Galvatron's forces, but she felt her agility and maneuverability more than made up for it.

Once she'd run the makeshift obstacle course, she pulled up again and made for the sky, twisting in a barrel roll on the way up. She looped and rolled through the air, laughing in exhilaration, relishing every maneuver and trick she executed successfully, delighting in the feel of wind under her wings and open space in every direction. No matter how many times she took to flight, the joy in her spark at taking flight never dimmed.

Can you see me, Thundercracker? she thought. Can you see what I've become? Would you be proud of me and what I can do?

Her reverie was cut short by a curt voice over the radio – Cyclonus. I did not give you permission to conduct maneuvers so far out from our base, Seeker.

Anger and irritation flared in her spark at his words, but she managed to keep them out of her voice as she responded. The Sweeps were out on maneuvers around the base, sir. I did not wish to interfere with their drills.

Commendable, but you will not go so far from the base in the future. Return to the command center, Glory. Galvatron has an assignment for you.

Copy, Cyclonus, sir. On my way.

She banked sharply, turning around and making her way back to the command center. An assignment from Galvatron… that didn't bode well. Their not-so-beloved commander had a disturbing tendency to send his troops out on suicide missions, not seeming to care if they came back alive or not. He didn't think his orders through before delivering them, and thus Decepticons were often sent away with orders that were confusing, contradictory, or just plain impossible to execute. Then Galvatron would have the nerve to blame his troops for failing to fulfill his desires, and either lash out at them or throw a full-on tantrum.

She sighed softly as she juked idly back and forth, taking her time in getting back to base. Megatron might have had bizarre ideas and overly complex plans, but at least he took the time to make sure they were halfway feasible before putting them into action. And Starscream might have been short on temper and long on ego, but even he hadn't been reduced to fits whenever a scheme of his had failed.

Glory never thought the day would come when she would actually miss Starscream… but that just went to show how bad things had gotten under Galvatron's "leadership."

Three years had passed since her upgrade – despite no longer living on Earth, most of the Decepticons kept track of the passage of time using that planet's units of measurement rather than the Cybertronian system, a practice that irked Cyclonus to no end. And a great deal had happened in that amount of time, so much that it boggled Glory's CPU to think about it all. Fights against both the Autobots and the Quintessons, attacks on alien planets, attempts to retake Cybertron or other key planets that generally ended in disaster, a failed coup on Scourge's part, a virulent Hate Plague that had nearly wiped out Cybertronian-kind before being contained… and most incredibly of all, the resurrection of Optimus Prime, the fabled Autobot leader, and a truce between Autobot and Decepticon that no one had ever dreamed would come.

That last part struck Glory as more than a little unfair. Why did the Autobots get their beloved leader back while the Decepticons were stuck with Galvatron? Surely if the Quintessons could restore Optimus Prime to life, they could bring Megatron back too. It seemed the universe in general favored the Autobots, a fact Dead End liked to point out constantly.

Though Optimus Prime's return had granted her a faint sliver of hope – that if the Prime could be brought back to life, maybe her uncle could too…

Plumes of concrete-colored dust rose up from the ground below as a string of vehicles headed for the base. She swooped down for a closer look… and smiled internally. Motormaster was leading the Stunticons back to the command center, no doubt also recalled from tearing up the desert to go on this assignment of Galvatron's.

Well, Cyclonus hadn't ordered their immediate return back… so why not have a bit of fun before they had to report for duty?

With a deft flip and twist she transformed to her robot mode, landing smartly on the back of Motormaster's trailer. The Stunticon leader growled and swerved, trying to throw her off, but she gamely hung on.

"What the frag!" he growled. "Gerroff!"

"Aw, don't act so happy to see me," Glory teased.

"Oh, it's you, kid," he replied, sounding a bit less annoyed. "Give a mech some warning next time."

"Hey kid!" Dragstrip called out. "You get called out on this mystery mission too?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm kind of nervous as to what it's going to entail. Cyclonus wasn't exactly generous with the details, was he?"

"He's out to get us killed," Dead End said balefully. "You'll see. We won't come back alive from this mission, and he'll be free to replace us with his choice of troops."

"Replace us with what, energy leeches?" Dragstrip retorted. "Ain't heard from any other 'Cons in ages, so he can't replace us with those."

"He could build more troops?" Breakdown suggested. "We have more supplies now with that truce going…"

"Not enough to build new Decepticons," Glory pointed out. "And even then, we don't have access to Vector Sigma to give them sparks. He's stuck with us, so I doubt he's going to want to get rid of us even if he hates us."

"Don't mean Galvatron won't get us offlined," Motormaster pointed out. "Mech wouldn't know logic if it bit him in the aft."

The mental image of a physical "logic" monster sneaking up behind Galvatron and chomping him in the posterior was too amusing, and Glory burst into giggles.

"Hey kid, let's have a little fun while we head back," Wildrider suggested. "Race ya back to base!"

"Prepare to have your aft stomped," she retorted, grinning, and she sprang from Motormaster's trailer, transforming to her jet mode again and tearing off. Dragstrip and Wildrider gunned their engines and took off in pursuit, cackling wildly.

It would have been sparkling's play for Glory to simply gun her thrusters and streak ahead of the others, making it back to base long before they did. But she held back, letting the Stunticons catch up until they were just at her tailfins. Beating them every time wasn't any fun, and besides, part of the thrill of the chase was in the exchange of snarky retorts and boasts, something she couldn't do if she was too far ahead.

Wildrider suddenly went airborne, leaping and transforming in one motion, and he landed on Glory's back. She yelped and rolled in an effort to dump him off, but he hung on tightly.

"Jet judo!" he cackled.

"Since when did you become a Lambo?" she demanded, and pulled up in a steep climb. Wildrider slipped, almost falling off, but he caught hold of her wings and hung on. She dove and rolled, trying to throw him off, but he just clung tighter, like a space barnacle.

Finally she gave up and just gunned it for the command center. At least with Wildrider hitching a ride, it could technically be called a close race, right?

Cyclonus was waiting at the door to the command center, arms folded across his chest and a grim scowl on his face. Glory didn't worry too much about that – that seemed to be his default expression anyhow. She swooped down, ready to touch down and claim victory.

Before she could so much as lower her landing gear, though, Wildrider acted. He vaulted from her back, whooping with maniacal glee as he tumbled through the air. Activating his antigravs at the last minute, he touched down and threw his arms up in celebration.

"I win!" he crowed.

"You cheated!" Glory accused, transforming and landing smartly beside him. "There's got to be a rule against using other racers as a vehicle!"

"Rules were made to be broken," Wildrider retorted, still grinning. "Ain't that right, Drag?"

"Drop dead," Dragstrip grumbled, pulling up and transforming as well. "I so would've beat ya if ya hadn't cheated!"

"You were ordered to return to the command center, not engage in juvenile activities such as racing," Cyclonus snapped.

"Excuse us for tryin' to have a little fun on the job," muttered Wildrider, though he was careful to lower his voice enough that only Glory could catch the words.

The other three Stunticons skidded to stops and transformed to join Glory, Wildrider, and Dragstrip. Glory and Motormaster both stood at attention, neither wanting to annoy Cyclonus any more than necessary. The others slouched where they stood, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere, even in the Autobot base as chew toys for Grimlock, than here.

Cyclonus wasted no time in getting to the point. "Galvatron commands the six of you to go to the Autobot outpost on Mars and destroy it."

Motormaster rebooted his optics in surprise. "So much for the truce, eh? How long did it last anyhow, a couple of months?"

"The truce was never intended to be permanent," Cyclonus replied. "The Autobots have grown complacent now, and it is the perfect time to strike at them."

"Cyclonus, sir, the terms of the truce were that the Autobots would leave us alone and give us our own worlds to establish bases on if we left them alone," Glory pointed out. "If we break the truce, they'll turn on us. And there aren't enough of us to oppose them. We'll be crushed."

Cyclonus glowered at her. "Is that cowardice you speak? Or treason, seeing as you wish to disobey Galvatron's direct orders?"

"Neither, sir," she said quickly. "Just caution."

"I suppose you can argue that it was the Autobots who broke the truce first," Dead End pointed out. "They promised us worlds of our own, but on the condition that they chose the worlds in question. And they have yet to get around to the actual choosing." He sighed deeply. "Ah, the fate of the Decepticons, to be fragged over at every possible opportunity. Sometimes I wonder if Primus created us simply for tragic comic relief."

Cyclonus gave Dead End a look. It couldn't exactly be called a pleased or happy look, but at the very least he seemed a little less annoyed at the Stunticon than usual. "You speak correctly, Dead End. The Autobots see fit to short us in their supposed deal… so it is only right that we take what is rightfully ours. And you six are perfectly suited for this job."

"For some wreckin'?" Motormaster asked, perking up just a bit.

"For sabotage," Cyclonus replied. "You Stunticons shall disguise yourselves as Autobots and infiltrate the base… then destroy it from within. The base is minimally staffed and only lightly guarded – you should have little trouble."

Glory frowned. "What about me, sir? I can hardly disguise myself as an Autobot."

"You will stand by while they infiltrate, and wait until they disable the base's defenses," Cyclonus told her. "Then you will attack it from the air. I trust you're competent in aerial bombardment?"

She clenched her jaw, irritation prickling through her systems. Just because she was young and hadn't fought much didn't mean she was incompetent. Slag, she had a better success rate than the Sweeps, even if she wasn't able to compete with Thrust and his trine yet.

"Yes, sir," was all she said, though. No use getting him completely fragged off at her.

"You're dismissed, then," Cyclonus ordered. "Astrotrain will depart for the far side of Mars in a breem." And he strode off.

Motormaster humphed loudly. "Why do even the fun assignments seem dull when he gives them out?" he complained. "Guess at least we didn't get saddled with the Sweeps too…"

"What's on Mars that he's so all-fired eager to get anyhow?" Breakdown demanded. "It's about as barren as Chaar, isn't it?"

"The Autobot base, duh," Wildrider retorted. "He wants the Autobots trashed, doofus. The fewer Autobots there are, the better. And maybe we can find the humans' silly Rover and kick it around while we're there. Or pose in front of it for pictures."

Glory pondered what Wildrider had said a moment. "Speaking of humans – Mars IS pretty close to Earth. Maybe Galvatron wants to gain a foothold there so he can invade their planet. There's also that huge volcano on the planet – Olympus Mons. If we could get it to go off…"

"Energy," Motormaster realized, a huge grin crossing his faceplate. "Our own source of energy, without having to raid for it. Maybe Galvatron's smarter than we give him credit for."

Glory doubted that. She had observed Galvatron for some time, and while he wasn't stupid, his insanity kept him from having more than one coherent thought at a time. She rather doubted that he could form a complex plan for the future on his own, and that Cyclonus planned most of his strategies for him. Doubtless Galvatron's motive in attacking Mars didn't go past "Autobots are there, must kill them!" and it had fallen on Cyclonus to devise an actual plan of attack and a long-term idea of what they were going to do with the planet once they actually took it.

Not for the first time, she wondered just how long Galvatron would last as leader without Cyclonus there to back him up. It wouldn't be for long, she reasoned – without his lieutenant to guard his back and make sense of the often-incoherent rants that passed as his orders to the Decepticons, he would be shot in the back inside a week. That was, if he didn't have such a spazz attack over losing his second-in-command that he self-destructed, or did something so monumentally stupid it cost him his own life.

She wondered if she should share this observation with Motormaster. The Stunticon leader had talked often enough about getting Galvatron out of the way and ensuring a competent mech took his place as Decepticon commander, and eliminating Cyclonus would be the fastest way to do that. But despite the fact that she was friends with his team, Motormaster tended to dismiss her input on anything. Even after her upgrade, he still seemed to think of her as a sparkling, despite the fact that she was technically older than him.

She sighed softly, electing to keep it to herself for now. Still, maybe Hook would listen to her, or Onslaught. Or she could pass it on to the cassettes and let them plant the idea in Soundwave's CPU. There had to be someone who could make use of the idea.

"A'right, enough standing around running our vocalizers," grumbled Motormaster. "Let's go see the Constructicons about getting some repainting done and go get this mission over with."

"Meet you guys up on the plateau," Glory told them. "Let's kick some aft."

Motormaster smirked a little. "Sometimes I think you woulda made a better Stunt than a Seeker, kid. Shame you picked a flier mode."

She shrugged. "I knew from the time I was very young that I wanted to be a flier. I guess it's just in my programming. That doesn't mean I can't still spread some good destruction with you guys."

"True, far as that goes. See ya in a few kliks." And he transformed and drove off, the other Stunticons assuming their vehicle modes and trailing after him.

Glory waited until they had vanished into the repair bay before taking off for the plateau. More than anything, she hoped they would be able to accomplish this mission and come home to report success. The Decepticons had suffered such a run of bad luck in the past four years that surely some good was bound to come their way, right?

So much for hopeful thoughts, Glory thought darkly as she pulled up sharply, trying to lose the flier on her tail. It looked as if the Decepticons' streak of bad luck would hold firm and fast today, unless a miracle happened.

She suspected things were going to go badly the minute the repainted Stunticons had tried to bluff their way through the base's front gate. For all their skill at destruction, and for all they had somehow managed to pass themselves off as Autobots early on in their lives, their skills at deception left much to be desired. In the end, Motormaster had "bluffed" his way past the guard at the checkpoint by clocking him over the head and stuffing his offline chassis in his trailer before continuing on.

Whatever had gone on inside the base was a mystery to her. She'd stayed back, perched on the very lowest slopes of Olympus Mons and keeping a sharp optic on the shared Autobot/human base that rested in the shadow of the gigantic volcano. She'd kept her colors in their dark phase while she waited, hoping that if anyone should look in her direction they'd take her for shadows on the mountain rather than a Decepticon Seeker.

She had just decided to break radio silence and ping Motormaster to ask what was taking so long when smoke had suddenly begun pouring out of the base windows, and alarms sounded in the thin Martian air. Two of the Stunticons – Dragstrip and Dead End judging by their body shapes – had come charging out of the base, with far too many Autobots hot on their heels for her liking. Evidently something in the plan had gone wrong, and the Stunts had to fight their way out.

Before she could dive down to join the fray and help her comrades, however, a monster of an Autobot had dived from the sky, shrieking in rage and spewing fire at her. Now she was trying to shake her attacker, wanting him off her aft so she could fire on the groundpounders without worrying about getting her tailfins blasted off.

"You Decepticon surrender!" Swoop crowed, blasting another stream of fire at her. "Or Dinobots make scrap out of you!"

"You have to catch me first," she taunted, and spiraled higher. The winged Dinobot hissed and beat his wings, soaring higher, flames jetting from his beak.

There had been a time in her young life when the thought of going up against a Dinobot would have terrified her into paralysis. She had heard nothing but horror stories about the creatures as a sparkling, and when she had finally been allowed onto the battlefield as an observer, seeing the ferocity of the creatures firsthand had only cemented her fear of them. And the first time she had joined an energon raid and had the ill luck to run into Grimlock, she'd thought her life was over then and there.

But all the tales she'd heard hadn't accounted for one simple factor – as strong as the Dinobots were, they were fairly stupid. And while few Decepticons could outfight them, a particularly cunning one could outsmart them.

She circled higher, the Pterodactyl-former hot on her thrusters. She tried to take their wild chase away from Olympus Mons, though the mountain was so massive that it was difficult to judge their distance from it. Best to keep the Dinobot away from the Stunticons so they could escape… and hope they hadn't run into the other beasts on the way out. She had no doubt that Menasor could take on the Dinobots, but all the same she would rather not see her friends hurt.

There was a loud and somehow sharp-sounding clang behind her as Swoop snapped at her tailfins, his beak closing mere inches from her plating. She retaliated by pouring more power to her thrusters and shrieking higher, blasting the Dinobot in the face with her exhaust. He hissed in rage and spewed flame, though she twisted deftly to the side to avoid the blast.

C'mon, she urged him silently. Follow me, silly flier… just a little bit higher…

"You Seeker surrender!" Swoop barked. "Maybe him Prime be easy on you!"

Glory laughed. "Decepticons don't surrender!" And she cut the power to her thrusters, letting herself slow to a halt. She hung in the air for a pump-stopping moment, then began to plummet.

Swoop backwinged to a halt, squawking his surprise. Glory took advantage of his moment of confusion and transformed as she fell, letting her arm blades slide out the moment her arms were free. Before the Dinobot could move out of the way, she had caught the leading edge of his right wing with both blades, shearing through the metal as easily as a plasma blade cut through rubber.

The Dinobot howled in outraged pain as over half his wing fell away, then gave a squawk of fear as he began to fall. Flailing his remaining wing, he plummeted to the ground. Glory didn't stick around to watch the impact but activated her antigravs, staying her own fall.

"Goin' somewhere, tin turkey?"

She whirled in midair, groaning. Not Aerialbots too! How many Autobots were there on this rock anyhow? Cyclonus had told them there would be few mechs here. Last time she trusted the bunny-bot's intel.

"Give it up, Seeker!" Slingshot cackled, rising from the base to intercept her, his brothers close behind him. "This planet belongs to us! Go back to the Pit that spawned ya!"

"You already have Earth and Cybertron!" she shouted back. "And now you'll claim every other planet in the galaxy as yours? And you call US greedy conquerors!"

"This isn't our world," Silverbolt acknowledged, maneuvering his way to the front of the group and leaving Slingshot to grumble behind him. "But we're allied with the humans, and we've pledged to help them protect their outposts on other worlds. That includes defending this world from your attempts to take it."

Glory snorted. "Killing them with kindness, then? At least we Decepticons are honest about conquering planets, instead of dragging them under our rule under the guise of alliances and treaties." Those weren't exactly her words – they came from one of Onslaught's many speeches he had given her over the years – but they seemed to fit this occasion.

"At least we're not idiot 'Cons who get shot down like buzzards at every battle!" Air Raid retorted.

Was that really the best he could come up with? She decided that any further bickering was pointless, and instead of dignifying his insult with a retort she transformed and streaked skyward. Too bad this planet's clouds were too thin to provide adequate cover, but maybe she could lead them on a merry chase anyhow, and show these Seeker wannabes how flying was really done.

She fully expected the Aerialbots to come after her, guns blazing. But they didn't pursue, only veered around and returned to base. Were they satisfied that the Decepticons were retreating, or had they been ordered back to base?

Maybe they just think you're not worth the bullet or plasma bolt it would take to bring you down, she thought acidly. That thought made her want to turn around and shoot the tailfins off those cocky fliers, but she forced herself to maintain her flight path. It would be suicide to take on all five Aerialbots without backup. And given that she had no idea what condition the Stunticons were in, she couldn't count on them to be the support she needed.

Glory to Stunticons, what's your position?

Free an' clear! Motormaster replied, his voice rumbling with barely suppressed rage. Slaggin' Autobots, saw through our disguises on the spot almost… barely got away in time.

Any injuries?

We're all banged around and a little scorched, Dragstrip replied. Wildrider lost an arm; we think Sideswipe has it. Got some blast marks and ruptured lines too, but nothing life-threatening.

Glory sighed in relief and swooped down to join the Stunticons. The five vehicles formed a battered caravan as they drove across the rust-colored landscape, rocking and bumping along the uneven ground. Breakdown was whining with each bump and hole he hit, and he seemed to be dripping coolant or oil as he went. Wildrider bore a gaping hole in one side, probably where the Lamborghinis had taken his arm, and Dead End's front bumper was smashed in as if something big had kicked him.

A pang of guilt pierced her internals at seeing her friends in such condition. She should have been down on the ground helping them, not playing around in the air. Maybe she could have chased some of the groundpounders off, or even taken a few of them out.

I'm sorry, guys.

For what? demanded Wildrider. You didn't beat the slag out of us! Was those stupid Lambos and their loser Dinobot buddies.

I should have been helping you, she pointed out. I could have done something…

You were beatin' off Swoop and the Aerialbots, Dragstrip pointed out. That helped, kid. Dunno what we woulda done had they decided to join the party. This ain't your fault, trust me.

Well, that was a pointless exercise, Dead End noted. All we succeeded in doing was getting ourselves royally pummeled. If we had wanted or needed that, we could have simply challenged Devastator or Bruticus to a fight. He sighed, grunting in pain as that act jarred his damaged engine. We'll be lucky to make it back to Chaar without one of us offlining from his injuries.

Don't talk like that, Glory chided. We're going to make it back and get fixed up. At least we're able to get supplies shipped to Chaar now, and don't have to rely on the raids.

We might not have those much longer, whined Breakdown. We broke the truce, remember? The Autobots don't have any reason anymore to not attack us. They're gonna hunt us down and kill us!

Shut it, ya wuss, Motormaster barked. Nothin's gonna happen until we get back to base an' report this to Cyclonus. He'll decide what to do from here.

Glory groaned. Cyclonus isn't going to be happy about this.

I'd rather put up with Cyc than Galvatron, Dragstrip admitted. At least Cyc hasn't killed anyone yet.

"Yet" being the key word, Dead End pointed out. We all know Cyclonus is going to report this failure to Galvatron first thing. And that'll be our doom. Either that, or the Autobots will launch a counterattack in response to this fiasco, and our doom will come by THEIR hands instead. Either way, we're dead.

A shudder passed through Glory's frame at Dead End's words, and not just from his implication that Galvatron could very well terminate them for their failure. The Autobots weren't normally given to exacting revenge or actively trying to wipe out the Decepticons, but there was always a first time for everything. And given that Galvatron had broken an important truce by ordering this attack, they could very well decide that was grounds for hunting down and destroying their kind.

First things first, though… they had to report this to Galvatron. Once they were sure they would survive THAT encounter, they could worry about the Autobots' reaction to the attack.

Astrotrain waited in a channel not far from the base, and the Stunticons transformed to their robot modes and climbed down to board the shuttle. Glory angled down toward the transport, trying to ignore the leaden feeling in her spark. Slag, she hoped Galvatron was in a good mood today.