Chapter 262: Optimus Prime's Question

Diego Garcia, Autobot base.

Two days had passed. The installation was far from fully repaired, but the active fires had been extinguished and the debris cleared.

Soldiers and Autobots moved in and out of the damaged hangars with hurried steps, wrapped in a tense, grim silence. The air carried the unmistakable weight of a storm about to break.

Unlike the bustling crews below, Optimus Prime stood alone on the roof of the central command building, looking quietly into the distance.

He had remained there for an entire day, motionless.

Optimus felt a dull ache in his chest, still struggling to believe that Sentinel Prime had betrayed them to the Decepticons.

Even more agonizing was the loss of Ironhide, his steadfast lieutenant and closest brother in arms.

A traitor cut deeper than any sworn enemy, yet toward his former mentor, Optimus felt less fury than a profound, hollow confusion.

Why?

In his memories, Sentinel was an unyielding pillar of principle who despised Decepticon cruelty above all else. He was the last mech in the universe Optimus would have expected to shake hands with Megatron.

Yet the impossible had played out in cold blood.

Optimus recalled with a pang of bitter luck that he had not yet told Sentinel about the Ark. He had planned to brief his master on the ship’s reserves upon returning from orbit, but Sentinel had turned his back on them before the words could be spoken.

Perhaps that delay was the only stroke of fortune in an otherwise disastrous week.

“Optimus,” Sideswipe called softly, stepping onto the roof beside Silverbolt. Neither offered empty comfort; they simply moved to his flanks and stood with him in silence.

Even without the title of Prime, they knew the crushing burden resting on his shoulders.

“Optimus, the Wreckers brought Blaster’s team over from the auxiliary post,” Sideswipe said, his voice tightening with anger. “With Blaster running our communications sweep, it won’t be long before we trace Sentinel’s hiding spot. Then we make him answer for Ironhide!”

Avenging Ironhide burned fiercely in Sideswipe’s spark.

In truth, nearly every Autobot on site shared that burning grief, especially Hound, who had shared countless watch shifts with the veteran warrior.

“Sideswipe, vengeance can wait. The urgent task is stopping whatever Sentinel and Megatron have set in motion.”

Optimus turned his gaze forward, his optics troubled. “A shadow hangs over my thoughts. Something catastrophic is about to unfold.”

“Why did Sentinel align with Megatron? Why did Skygnaw raid our vault for those five space bridge pillars? What are they building behind our backs?”

“The pillars form a space bridge,” Silverbolt reasoned quietly. “Could Sentinel be helping them bring something across the stars? An invasion force?”

“Aren’t the primary Decepticon legions pinned down on Cybertron?” Sideswipe asked, frowning.

“Not necessarily,” Silverbolt shook his head, weighing the field reports. “Skygnaw and Shockwave have already surfaced here. Even if human radar missed the orbital descent, a strike force could have followed them to Earth under cloaking shields.”

“They could be concealed in an unmapped zone, waiting for deployment.”

“Skygnaw taking the pillars might be the signal to drop the curtain.”

“If that’s the play…” Sideswipe rubbed his chin, looking at his commander. “Optimus, what is our counter?”

Optimus stood silent for several seconds before his resolve hardened. “Have Blaster expand his search. While hunting for Sentinel, he must comb the frequencies for any Decepticon military signatures.”

“If we can intercept what Megatron and Skygnaw are preparing, we stand a fighting chance.”

Human intelligence networks were extensive, but the diplomatic channels moved too slowly. Time had run out.

Bumblebee had reported that Sentinel spoke of a three-day window to complete his preparations. Tomorrow was the deadline.

“Understood. I will pass the order to Blaster,” Sideswipe said, turning on his heel.

“Silverbolt,” Optimus added as the warrior reached the access stairs, “signal the crew aboard the Ark to stand on high alert. Sentinel’s ambitions will not stop at five pillars.”

“Bumblebee mentioned that Sentinel claimed he was acting to preserve Cybertron. I do not know what madness he envisions to save our dead world, but…”

Two days ago, upon confirming Ironhide’s death, Optimus had dispatched the Wreckers to recover Blaster’s specialized surveillance squad.

With an expert listening post active on the frequencies, it had taken less than forty-eight hours to flag an abnormal energy ripple and pin down Sentinel’s location.

Of course, it helped that Sentinel had made no attempt to hide his work.

Chicago, the Space and Science Museum.

Out on the wide plaza, Dylan stood beside an escort of private guards, watching the paved yard with rapt attention. Carly, now wearing a practical dark trench coat, stood nearby under silent guard.

In the center of the terrace, an ancient mech in crimson and dark plating was calibrating several hovering metallic rods.

On his right shoulder plate sat the silver Autobot crest, marking him undeniably as an alien defender.

Dylan knew who he was; Skygnaw had spoken of him only hours earlier.

Sentinel Prime, the former supreme commander of the Autobots.

For the moment, an ally of convenience.

“A terrifying sight,” Dylan murmured, his eyes wide.

After Skygnaw and the others cleared out last night, Dylan had sealed the museum to the public, staying behind closed doors through the following day.

Then, without warning, Skygnaw had returned with an entire vanguard in tow.

The entourage was staggering. Beyond Laserbeak and Soundwave, whom Dylan had met before, there was the towering warlord Megatron, followed by this legendary Autobot defector.

Megatron hadn’t spared Dylan a single glance, marching straight into the gallery halls, leaving Dylan and his security detail out on the cold stones.

“Boss, with a setup that large, the noise is going to be deafening,” a guard whispered, stepping close to Dylan’s side. “Won’t this draw the military and the Autobots straight to our doorstep?”

Dylan gave him a cold look. “Are you offering tactical advice?”

“If you have concerns, take them inside to the Decepticons. They are resting in the main hall.”

His men were hand-picked for discipline and discretion; hearing one voice doubt made it clear the scale of the alien presence was rattling their nerves. Fear of the unknown was catching up to them.

After a beat, Dylan softened his tone slightly. “Relax. Even if the authorities pick up an energy spike, mobilizing a response takes hours.”

“By the time their trucks roll in, our business here will be concluded. Besides, with an army of metal titans standing behind us, nobody is walking over this property.”

Dylan knew he had stepped onto a one-way road. A single step backward would shatter his standing and cost him his life.

Reassured by his employer’s calm posture, the guard swallowed hard and kept his mouth shut. If the man paying the checks wasn’t fleeing, an hourly contractor had no reason to panic.

The guard tilted his head back toward the sky.

High above the plaza, a massive ring hovered in the gray air, framed by metallic pillars with several gaps along its circumference.

The portal was enormous, easily broad enough to swallow the museum building whole. It was impossible to tell what alloys forged those floating rods, allowing them to hang weightless against the wind.

Inside the museum’s grand exhibition rotunda, Megatron sat upon an elevated stone dais normally reserved for monumental statues.

Below him, five commanders stood in two disciplined lines: Skygnaw, Shockwave, Soundwave, Grindor, and Barricade.

Through the tall archway, they held an unobstructed view of Sentinel Prime working on the plaza.

“Skygnaw, the space bridge draws near completion,” Megatron rasped, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “Transmit the activation sequence to our legions on Mars. Have them prime their thrusters.”

“Today, we break this world to its knees.”

“By your command, Lord Megatron,” Skygnaw replied with a steady nod.

Defeat after defeat had done nothing to extinguish Megatron’s hunger for conquest. In terms of relentless drive, the warlord was a true commander of war.

As for the Martian outposts, Shockwave would have signaled the vanguard wings even without Skygnaw’s relay; the gateway was designed for bidirectional transit.

“Lord Megatron, your foresight remains unmatched,” Laserbeak praised, fluttering in through an open skylight to perch on a marble beam. “Has Sentinel Prime truly marched to our drum from the very beginning?”

In the gallery, Soundwave and Shockwave remained stoic, while Skygnaw stood as an equal Prime, and Grindor barely possessed the eloquence to hold a standard conversation.

It fell to Laserbeak to maintain the courtly banter.

Megatron’s frame remained scarred and bound with rough salvage chains, yet his optical flare burned with suffocating intensity.

He shook his heavy helm. “No. Sentinel belonged to the ruling council, an elected voice for the old order. The Autobots were merely a cudgel he wielded to suppress our rising faction.”

“Before the fall of our world, neither of us wished to see the other draw another breath. When he reached out to propose an accord, I accepted his terms on the surface, but prepared a modest diversion…”

Skygnaw cast a sideways glance toward the throne. This was the first time he had heard Megatron speak openly about the final days of the homeworld.

Megatron’s “diversion” had likely involved keeping his blockade commanders uninformed, letting heavy fire cripple the Ark as it broke orbit.

“Yet when telemetry confirmed his craft had come down on the Moon, a grander strategy presented itself,” Megatron said, tapping the deep scar carved into his helm with a dark grin.

“No siege engine breaks a fortress as cleanly as a hand opening the gates from within.”

When had Megatron learned Sentinel was on the lunar surface?

Skygnaw couldn’t say for certain. It might have been during his initial pursuit of the Allspark, or pieced together from classified human space files after he escaped the facility in the desert.

“A masterstroke, my Lord!” Laserbeak trilled, stroking his master’s ego.

Megatron leaned back against the stone, taking clear satisfaction in the unfolding game.

“Bringing him to our side is the sharpest decision I have made in cycles.”

“A pity Optimus slipped our grasp, leaving only Ironhide to pay the toll…”

HONK—!

A deafening air horn tore through the morning quiet, cutting Megatron’s boasting short.

Skygnaw turned toward the entrance. A heavy semi-truck in brilliant red and blue came sliding off the main boulevard, its tires screaming as it charged straight toward the plaza.

“Optimus?”

Out in the courtyard, Dylan was still admiring the floating ring above the trees when the air horn shattered the peace.

“What is that?!”

“Boss, look at the gate!” a guard shouted, pointing toward the boulevard. “A heavy rig just breached the perimeter!”

“Damn it!” Dylan gasped in horror, recognizing the paint scheme instantly. “It’s Optimus Prime!”

“Fall back inside! Retreat to the rotunda! I need to alert Lord Skygnaw!”

The private detail scrambled back through the museum doors. Dylan rushed toward Skygnaw, breathless, only to find the Decepticons had already turned their optics toward the avenue.

“Dylan,” Skygnaw signaled with a light gesture.

“Lord Skygnaw!” Dylan panted, stumbling to a halt before the giant.

“Take your men and find a cellar. Do not show your faces until I summon you.”

“Yes, my Lord! Right away!”

Behind him, Carly glared at Skygnaw, opening her mouth as if to demand answers. Skygnaw looked straight past her, and Dylan’s guards dragged her away down the service corridor before she could speak.

“Sentinel! Stop this madness!”

Out on the pavement, Optimus Prime shifted into his towering battle frame before his tires stopped rolling, shouting desperately to halt the sequence.

“Forgive me, Optimus,” Sentinel Prime said without looking back.

With a sweeping arc of his arm, Sentinel guided the final control rod into alignment.

Rushing ahead after intercepting the radio coordinates, Optimus had outpaced his convoy to arrive alone.

Yet as fate would have it, he was still one breath too late.

Meanwhile, across the void on Mars…

The red planet was no longer an empty, frozen desert.

Had human space agencies managed to set a lens over the northern plains, the images sent back would have triggered sheer terror.

Industrial towers pierced the thin atmosphere, spewing dark exhaust over an endless sea of autonomous construction drones laboring across the iron sands.

The terrain had been fundamentally transformed.

Under the direction of Decepticon engineers, the Terrorcons and Seacons had used the massive shield volcano of Olympus Mons as an anchor, expanding an industrial network across the surface.

Foundries, energon processing vats, mining quarries, and fortified bunkers stretched out in every direction, covering an area equivalent to a twentieth of the Martian crust.

Deep within the caldera of Olympus Mons, a line of Decepticon cruisers floated silently in low orbit.

On the platforms below, ranks of heavily armed mechanical soldiers checked their weapons, their optics burning with raw combat readiness.

Suddenly, five metallic pillars rooted into the crater floor flared with searing azure light. Overhead, a swirling tear in the atmosphere began to stabilize into an open gateway.

Standing on the bridge deck of the lead cruiser, Hun-Gurrr raised his twin cannons, his voice roaring across the iron valley:

“Decepticons! The gate is open! Board the fleet!”

Chicago, Space and Science Museum.

“Initiate transit!”

HUM—

At Sentinel Prime’s command, the massive gate suspended fifty yards above the stones flared with blinding light that pierced the morning sky.

Arcs of wild electricity danced between the hovering pillars, channeling raw planetary energy into the spatial tear.

The space bridge was active.

“No!”

Optimus Prime roared in anguish, lunging forward with reckless momentum.

“Why?! Why are you doing this?!”

“Sentinel, tell me! What are you offering to the Decepticons?!”

CRASH.

Optimus Prime’s desperate leap was met by a crushing counter.

Moving with terrifying economy, Sentinel stepped inside his pupil’s reach, swept his legs from beneath him, and drove a heavy heel onto Optimus’s chest plate, pinning him hard to the paving stones.

Without his flight rig or heavy armaments, Optimus was completely outmatched by his teacher’s veteran combat experience.

“Why? You dare ask me why?” Sentinel drew his primax blade, resting the energized edge directly across Optimus’s neck cables, his faceplate carved from stone.

“Then hear the truth, Optimus!”

“For Cybertron! For our dead home!”

“The ruin wrought by war can be rebuilt, but only if we unite our strength with the Decepticons!”

“It does not have to be this way!” Optimus strained against the crushing weight, shaking his helm in agony. “This world has become our home! We cannot build our salvation upon the bones of humanity!”

“Hah!” Sentinel let out a harsh, mocking laugh, looking down at his student with bitter disdain.

“You understand nothing, Optimus. Out among the stars, we were revered as gods by primitive civilizations.”

“Yet here, on this pitiful rock, they treat us as machines! They call us monsters!”

Sentinel pressed the blade closer, his voice dropping to a harsh rasp. “Be at peace, my pupil. I will not extinguish your spark today. I need you to carry a message to your human allies.”

“What message?”

“Cast every Autobot off this world… or watch every city on Earth burn to ash.”

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