Skygnaw's hunger for power was never something he bothered to hide.
With the AllSpark gone and Cybertron currently out of reach, he had been at a loss for his next move. A High-Class Elite chassis was valuable, but it paled in comparison to the secret of ascending to the Commander-tier.
After a brief internal calculation, Skygnaw decided to hear what the tiny medic had to say.
"Lord Scalpel... what exactly are you referring to?"
"Kekeke~"
Scalpel's faceplate twisted into a cryptic, buzzing grin. He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he posed a question, just as he had in the past.
"Skygnaw, have you never wondered why the number of Leader-Class and Commander-Class warriors is so infinitesimally small?"
"You Cybertronians..." Scalpel began, trailing off.
Skygnaw ignored the phrasing and shook his head. He had wondered. Even with the "pyramid effect" of any society, the ratio of a million-to-one felt exaggerated. According to Blackout's memory crystals, the Decepticon army at its peak numbered in the millions, yet there were only a handful of top-tier elites like Megatron and Starscream.
Cybertronians weren't limited by biological talent; given enough time and raw materials, anyone should—in theory—be able to build a Commander-sized frame.
Scalpel didn't wait for a reply. "It is because the Sparks of Commanders and Leaders are split directly from the AllSpark. In a very literal sense, their life-force is a fragment of the Source itself."
"Split?"
Skygnaw recalled the lore of the Thirteen Primes. They were said to have risen directly from the Well of All Sparks, created out of nothing. Were their Sparks truly severed pieces of the AllSpark? Is that why they were so overwhelmingly powerful?
"Lord Scalpel, that may be true, but the AllSpark is destroyed..." Skygnaw thought of the fragment in his chest, wondering if it was enough.
"Patience, Skygnaw. Let me finish."
Scalpel's many eyes whirled. "This 'splitting' process causes irreversible damage to the AllSpark. It accelerates the depletion of its cosmic energy. Because of this, during the Golden Age of Cybertron, the ruling council placed the Cube in Iacon and strictly forbade anyone from touching it. The method of ascending to the Commander rank was intentionally suppressed—a total information blackout."
"As the Civil War broke out, those who held the secret died off. Now, almost no one remembers."
Knowledge suppression, Skygnaw thought. It explained why Blackout's memories contained nothing on the subject. The ruling elite had pulled the ladder up behind them eons ago.
"How do you know this, Scalpel?"
"How?" Scalpel paused, his voice turning flat. "Soundwave told me, of course."
"I see..." Skygnaw exhaled, relieved that Scalpel wasn't some ancient monster from the First Age.
"Listen well, Skygnaw. Since the AllSpark is no longer a viable source, there is only one way left to ascend. You must find an existing Commander-Class Spark and integrate it into your own chassis."
Scalpel wouldn't have shared this if the Cube were still intact, or if he didn't desperately want Blackout's Elite-grade chassis for his own grisly experiments. Information was currency, and right now, the exchange rate was high.
The Solar System. Mars.
A small Decepticon scout ship breached the thin, dusty atmosphere and descended toward the Olympus Mons caldera. The volcano was a gargantuan shield, twenty-five kilometers high and six hundred kilometers wide, its surface a bruised orange pockmarked by craters.
At the very center of the dead crater lay a massive, derelict starship. It was battered and ancient, its hull scored by eons of space debris. Guarding the perimeter were several Cybertronian warriors, their frames bearing no faction insignias. They were neither Autobot nor Decepticon; they were the hidden guard.
The scout ship hovered near the main docking bay before its engines hissed into silence. The ramp lowered, and Starscream stepped out.
As a High Commander, Starscream possessed his own interstellar-capable craft. He had used it to reach Earth originally, navigating by the faint energy signatures of the Cube. It was a sophisticated vessel, capable of seventy percent light-speed and equipped with a warp drive for star-system jumping.
"Lord Starscream," a sentry acknowledged, bowing low.
"Is the Master awake? I have urgent intelligence that requires his personal attention."
"You are fortunate, Lord Starscream. He stirred only cycles ago."
When Starscream had first entered the Sol system, he had accidentally intercepted a Cybertronian signal from Mars. After establishing himself on Earth, he had returned to investigate and discovered the ancient master—The Fallen—recovering in the shadows. Naturally, a seeker of power like Starscream had immediately pledged a secondary allegiance.
Starscream navigated the decaying corridors of the ship until he reached the core sanctum.
In the center of the room sat a massive, open stasis sarcophagus filled with a glowing blue nutrient fluid. Recumbent within was a tall, skeletal machine of pitch-black metal. He stood over twelve meters tall, radiating an aura of ancient, rotting power.
"Starscream. You have returned."
Sensing the approach, the machine—entwined with dozens of mechanical feeding tubes—slowly lifted its insectoid head. His face was a nightmare of jagged mandibles and a needle-sharp chin, twisted by eons of hate.
Starscream dropped to one knee, his head bowed in a knightly fashion. "Master, I have failed you. The Matrix of Leadership remains lost, and the AllSpark... it has been destroyed."
"Furthermore, our current leader, Megatron..."
Starscream stole a glance at the ancient being. "Lord Megatron has been slain by the humans. He fell on the very planet you despise."
"Megatron... my apprentice..."
A flicker of reminiscence crossed The Fallen's face before it was replaced by a volcanic rage.
"Starscream! Tell me what happened! How could mere biologicals kill a Leader-Class warrior like Megatron?"
The last time The Fallen had seen Megatron was over a century ago, when the apprentice had first tracked the Cube to this system. He did not believe the "weaklings" of Earth possessed the strength to scrap a titan.
"It is the Autobots, Master. They have arrived on Earth and formed a pact with the humans. Megatron was locked in a duel with the Prime when the humans ambushed him with their aerial weapons..."
Starscream recounted the battle of Rushville with meticulous detail, finishing with a flourish. "The Autobots remain on that planet. They show no sign of leaving. I came here immediately to inform you, fearing for the future of our cause."
He didn't mention that he had fled out of cowardice; he framed his retreat as a tactical necessity to protect the "Master's" interests.
"The Autobots... and the humans!"
The Fallen's rage flared. He attempted to rise, but the movement tore at his unhealed wounds. He slumped back into the sarcophagus with a rattling cough.
"Kekeke..."
He shifted his frame with great effort, his weakness evident. He was a shadow of his former self. Millions of years ago, he had been defeated on Earth by his six brothers, escaping only through the sacrifice of his followers. He had slept for an eternity in the dark, his Prime-Class Spark slowly knitting itself back together.
"Lord Fallen, are you alright?"
Seeing the ancient one so frail, a flash of greed crossed Starscream's optics. But he quickly suppressed it, wary of the power the "Master" might still possess.
"I am fine. I have endured worse than this."
The Fallen hovered slightly, waving a hand in dismissal. He was no fool; he had lived for millions of years and seen a thousand "Starscreams" try to usurp power. He would not show his true hand to a Seeker who had only recently entered his service.
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