Chapter Text
The Starburst shook so violently that anything not bolted down flew across the hull. Every alarm on the bridge was blaring, and the forward display was awash in crimson warnings.
“Incoming fire!” Arcee shouted over the comms, her optics sharp and voice steady despite the chaos. The ship lurched again as she swung the rear cannons into position. “They’re gaining on us, Springer! I can’t keep them off if you keep flying like a maniac!”
“Maniac?!” Springer barked from the pilot’s chair, gripping the controls hard enough to dent them. “You try flying a freighter through hyperspace while being blasted by Cyclonus’s military warship!”
Another explosion rattled the hull, showering sparks across the bridge. The lights flickered, then steadied. Hot Rod slammed a fist against the armrest of his command chair. “Kup! Tell me you’ve got a course plotted that loses those fraggers before they turn us into scrap!”
Kup’s gravelly voice came from the navigation console, steady but strained. “I’m working on it, kid! Give me a klik—these new coordinates are a nightmare to sync with hyperspace drift!”
“A klik’s too fragging long!” Hot Rod snapped, leaning forward as the ship shuddered again. The sound of laserfire crackled across the comms—Arcee’s guns answering the Oblivion’s barrage.
“Language, Captain,” Ultra Magnus said sharply, his voice cutting through the chaos like a disciplinary whip. He was already striding toward the upper hatch that led to the second turret. “You’re setting a poor example for the crew.”
Hot Rod glared after him. “Shut up and shoot!”
Ultra Magnus didn’t dignify that with a response, but the metal clang of him climbing into the turret ladder was answer enough. A moment later, the sound of dual cannons roaring through the void joined Arcee’s.
Blurr’s voice came in at a blur, each word tripping over the next. “Shields-are-failing—twenty-percent-twenty-percent—okay-okay-rerouting-power-from-secondary-life-support—wait-no-that’s-bad-okay-maybe—no—YES!”
Hot Rod’s optics widened. “Wait—did you just reroute power from life support?”
Blurr didn’t even look up from his console. “Only-temporarily!It’ll-be-fine-unless-we-plan-on-staying-like-this!”
Springer swore under his breath as a blast rocked the ship’s port side. “One more hit like that and we’re going to be!”
“Focus, Springer!” Hot Rod barked, gripping the edge of the console as the ship banked hard. “Kup—status!”
“Almost there!” Kup growled. “You want a clean escape, you give me ten more seconds and maybe a prayer to Primus!”
Arcee’s cannons flared again, streaks of plasma cutting through the black. “Direct hit on their forward guns—but they’ve got shields thicker than Magnus’s sense of humor!”
“I heard that,” came Ultra Magnus’s voice through the comm.
“Good!” Arcee shot back. “Now shoot something before they hit us again!”
The Starburst rattled once more as a near-miss grazed their rear stabilizers. Warning lights flared crimson across the pilot’s console. Springer gritted his denta. “We’re overheating! If this keeps up, we’re going to fry the engines!”
“Not an option!” Hot Rod shouted, optics darting across the chaotic display. “Blurr—reroute cooling from the weapons!”
“What?No!No-no-if-you-take-the-cooling-off-the-guns-Arcee-will—”
“Do it!” Hot Rod barked.
Blurr made a strangled sound, but his servos flew over the controls. The ship gave a sickening lurch, but the heat readings began to drop.
Springer grinned through the tension. “She’ll hold. Barely.”
Kup’s voice rose over the comms, triumphant and gravelly. “Got it! Punching in new coordinates—sector seven-nine by three-one-four! It’ll drop us near the Helix Rift!”
Hot Rod’s optics narrowed. “The Rift? Kup, that place eats ships for breakfast!”
Kup grunted. “Yeah—and that’s exactly why Cyclonus won’t follow us in.”
Springer shot Hot Rod a sidelong look. “Your call, Captain.”
Hot Rod hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for another blast to rattle through the hull. Then he slammed a fist on the console. “Do it. Take us in!”
Springer didn’t need to be told twice. “Hold onto something!” he yelled, pulling the Starburst into a steep dive. The stars outside twisted and stretched, space itself bending around them as they shot toward the shimmering, storm-torn maw of the Helix Rift.
Behind them, the Oblivion roared in pursuit—Cyclonus’s cold, calculating fury burning brighter than the void.
The Starburst plunged into the Helix Rift like a stone through a storm. The stars outside the viewport stretched into spirals of violet and gold, lightning-like waves of energy tearing across the darkness.
“Primus save us,” Springer muttered, gripping the controls so tightly the servos in his wrists whined. “This place is fragging insane!”
The ship pitched violently as a gravitational current yanked them sideways. Sparks exploded from the ceiling, and a console blew out near Kup’s station.
“Watch it, kid!” Kup barked, bracing himself against the wall. “You’re gonna tear her apart!”
“I’m trying not to!” Springer shot back through gritted denta. “The Rift doesn’t exactly play nice!”
“Stabilizers are offline—rerouting emergency power to inertial dampeners!” Blurr rattled off at light speed, his voice nearly lost in the roar of the engines. “Hold-on-hold-on-hold-on-this-is-gonna-hurt!”
The Starburst bucked hard, tossing Hot Rod forward in his command chair. He slammed his arm against the console, swearing loudly.
From the comm line, Arcee’s voice cut through the chaos. “Cyclonus’s ship is pulling back! I repeat—Oblivion is retreating!”
Ultra Magnus’s deeper voice followed seconds later, his cannon still echoing through the static. “Their energy signatures are fading. They won’t risk the Rift.”
Hot Rod let out a shaky sigh, rubbing a servo down his faceplate. “Finally. About time we caught a break.”
But the words had barely left his mouth when a surge of pure white energy slammed into the Starburst. Every system screamed at once. The lights strobed violently, then went pitch black for half a klik before emergency power kicked in.
Blurr’s voice tore through the comm. “Okay-no-no-no-NO-NO-NO-that-was-not-supposed-to-happen! Energy-wave-hit-us—feedback-loop-through-the-shields—damage-control-failing!”
“Report!” Hot Rod shouted, clutching the armrest as the ship groaned.
“Arcee’s turret hatch got melted shut,” Blurr stammered, fingers flying across the console. “Temperature spike fused the lock! She’s stuck down there!”
“What?!” Hot Rod shot upright. “Arcee—talk to me!”
Her voice came through, rough but calm. “I’m fine, Hot Rod. Don’t worry about me. Just make sure the life support stays stable.”
“Arcee, we’ll get you out—”
“Don’t.” Her tone was firm now. “You’ve got bigger problems. Focus on keeping this ship together.”
Ultra Magnus dropped back down the turret ladder, face streaked with soot and optics still coldly calm. “Captain,” he said, approaching Hot Rod’s chair. “Speaking of life support…”
Hot Rod didn’t like the sound of his tone. “What about it?”
Ultra Magnus folded his arms, stance rigid. “If the bot in the medbay isn’t improving, it may be logical to cut power to life support. We’re barely maintaining propulsion as it is.”
Hot Rod froze, his optics flaring. “Magnus, shut up.”
“It’s a practical suggestion,” Ultra Magnus continued, unflinching. “We’re losing power. If the system’s not sustaining a viable lifeform—”
“I said shut up,” Hot Rod snapped, voice sharp enough to slice through the tension. “It’s not happening.”
Kup sighed heavily from his station, turning in his chair. “The big guy’s not wrong, kid. None of us are medics. We don’t even know if keeping him plugged in’s doin’ more harm than good.”
Hot Rod’s hands clenched into fists. “We’re not giving up on him. Not now.”
The bridge went quiet except for the rumble of the engines and the distant hum of the Rift’s energy storms outside.
Springer glanced over his shoulder briefly, optics flicking between them. “Hate to break up the moral debate, but maybe we survive the next ten kliks before deciding who lives or dies?”
Kup gave a gravelly chuckle. “Fair point.”
Blurr let out a nervous whine as the console in front of him sparked again. “Uh-guys-the-Rift-is-starting-to-ionize-the-hull-I-can’t-keep-this-up-forever!”
Hot Rod dragged a servo down his face and forced himself to focus. “Alright. Magnus—get the auxiliary generators online. Kup—keep those new coordinates locked in. Blurr—just keep the ship alive. We’ll deal with the rest when we’re not about to explode!”
For a moment, no one said anything. Then Ultra Magnus gave a curt nod and moved to his post without another word.
The Starburst rocked violently again, the hull groaning like it was being pulled in two directions at once. Hot Rod gritted his denta, rising from his command chair as the rumbling settled into a low vibration beneath his pedes.
He tapped his comm. “Wheelie, report from the medbay. How’s our patient holding up?”
Static crackled for a moment before Wheelie’s sing-song voice came through. “Stable, stable, not unstable—systems hum like a cable! He’s not moving, not dead, not gone—looks like your friend will carry on!”
Hot Rod released a slow breath, shoulders sagging with visible relief. “Good. Keep an optic on him, alright? If anything changes, you call me immediately.”
“Wheelie hears, Wheelie obeys! Back to tending and scanning displays!”
The comm clicked off. Hot Rod turned toward the turret hatch at the center of the bridge’s lower level—now twisted and fused into the surrounding metal from the earlier energy surge.
“Alright,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he stepped closer. “Guess it’s up to me.”
Ultra Magnus moved to his side, arms crossed and optics narrow. “What exactly are you planning to do?”
Hot Rod crouched over the sealed hatch, flexing his servos. A faint orange light began to pulse from his palms, the metal beneath him starting to shimmer. “What I have to.”
Ultra Magnus’s optics widened slightly. “You’re going to use that here? In this condition? You could rupture the entire lower hull.”
“I know my limits,” Hot Rod said tersely, never looking away from the door. “Don’t need advice on how to use my own ability.”
Kup, from his station, gave a low grumble. “He’s got a point, but I’m gonna side with Magnus on this one. Don’t be an idiot, kid. You burn too hot, and you’ll take half the deck with you.”
Hot Rod shot him a look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I’m not planning to roast us alive today.”
He toggled the comm to the lower deck. “Arcee, you might want to back away from the door and keep your helm low. Things are about to get toasty.”
Her voice came back immediately, dry but steady. “You’re about to melt through a solid hatch while the ship’s shaking itself apart? That’s your big plan?”
“Pretty much,” Hot Rod said with a faint smirk. “So, you know—duck.”
Arcee muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse, but he could hear her moving away from the hatch. Hot Rod exhaled, vented heat building in his chest. His optics glowed bright as molten light began to seep from his servos, licking across the metal like fire made solid. The deck hummed under the strain.
“Careful,” Ultra Magnus warned, his voice low but edged with concern. “You’re exceeding safe thermal output.”
Hot Rod’s grin was all denta. “That's the point.”
With a guttural sound of effort, he pushed his palms down. The metal sizzled, warped, then began to melt. Orange-gold slag dripped from the edges, glowing so bright it lit up the whole bridge in a fiery halo.
Kup took a cautious step back, muttering, “Primus help me, every time he does this, I think he’s gonna blow us up.”
Finally, the center of the hatch gave way with a hiss and a sharp metallic pop. Hot Rod kicked the warped panel aside, letting the molten edges cool just enough to grab. “Arcee! You good?”
There was a clang, a shuffle, then Arcee’s helm appeared through the steam and rising smoke. “Define good,” she muttered, gripping Hot Rod’s forearm as he hauled her up through the opening.
He pulled her free, steadying her as she stumbled onto the deck. Her paint was scuffed, one shoulder dented, optics dimmer than usual. “You okay?”
She shook her head slightly, vents cycling hard. “Fine. Just… dizzy. The heat down there wasn’t exactly relaxing.”
Ultra Magnus raised an optic ridge. “You’re lucky he didn’t explode anything.”
“Lucky’s one word for it,” Arcee said, offering Hot Rod a tired half-smile. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“Just add it to the list,” Hot Rod said with a grin, though his optics softened.
Arcee rubbed her helm, visibly swaying for a second. “I think I’m gonna rest up in the medbay. Maybe let Wheelie play nurse for a bit.”
Kup snorted. “Primus help you.”
Hot Rod watched her go, his own vents hissing as the heat from his ability cooled in his frame. The edges of the hatch still glowed faintly, lighting the deck in a warm amber hue.
Ultra Magnus looked down at the molten circle, then at Hot Rod. “You risked structural integrity for one crewmate.”
Hot Rod met his gaze evenly. “Yeah,” he said. “And I’d do it again, too.”
Hot Rod slid back into his command chair just as the Starburst shuddered from another violent lurch. The entire bridge rattled, loose tools clattering across the floor. The Rift outside the viewport boiled like liquid lightning—veins of violet and gold tearing through the darkness, illuminating the ship in bursts of surreal light.
“Primus, it’s like flying through a thunderstorm made of hate!” Springer barked, his servos locked tight around the controls. “Kup, tell me you’ve got a way out before this place eats us alive!”
Kup squinted at the holographic star chart flickering before him, the edges distorted from interference. “Working on it, working on it! The Rift’s field’s messin’ with every nav reading I got!”
The ship tilted sharply, throwing Hot Rod forward in his seat. He gritted his denta, gripping the armrests. “Springer, keep her steady!”
“I am keeping her steady!” Springer shot back, jerking the yoke to one side as an arc of energy streaked past the ship’s hull. “This thing’s got more turbulence than your temper!”
Another blast of white energy struck their shields, making the deck hum like an angry beast.
Blurr was all movement at his console, his words barely catching up with his actions. “Shields-at-fifty-percent-wait-no-forty-five-nope-forty!If-we-don’t-get-out-soon-we’re-going-to-be-space-dust!”
Hot Rod shot a glance over his shoulder. “Blurr, reroute anything you can spare into the shields!”
“I-already-did!” Blurr yelped, throwing his arms up in panic. “There’s-nothing-left-to-spare!”
Kup slammed a fist on his console in frustration. “Can’t get a clean signal outta this storm! Sensors are blind, compasses are spinning, and the Rift’s gravity is pullin’ us in circles!”
“Then stop relying on the computer and guess!” Springer shouted, dodging another surge of lightning. “You’ve been doing this since the Golden Age—use those instincts!”
Kup scowled, muttering under his breath. “Instincts, he says. Sure, I’ll just sniff my way out of the most dangerous anomaly in the quadrant.”
The ship rolled again, a panel bursting overhead with a shower of sparks. Hot Rod swore and slammed his fist against the armrest. “We can’t stay in here much longer!”
Ultra Magnus stood rigid near the back of the bridge, one servo braced against the wall for balance. “Our armor is beginning to degrade. At this rate, we’ll lose structural integrity within the next three minutes.”
“Then find us a fragging exit!” Hot Rod shouted, optics darting across the display. “Kup, you’re our navigator—make something happen!”
Kup’s optics narrowed as he leaned over his flickering console, claws flying over the controls. “Hold your equinoids, kid, I think I’ve got somethin’—there’s a break in the energy field about three thousand kliks ahead, starboard side. If we can hit that gap before it closes, we might just make it.”
“‘Might just’?” Springer repeated, his tone half a laugh, half a growl. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
Kup smirked grimly. “That’s all anyone’s got in the Rift, kid.”
Hot Rod leaned forward. “Springer, you heard him. Take us toward that gap!”
“Roger that, Captain!” Springer yanked the flight stick, the Starburst banking hard to starboard. The Rift’s energies howled around them, lashing at the hull like living fire.
Blurr let out a strangled whine. “Hull-temperature-is-rising!Hull-temperature-is-rising!I’m-running-out-of-coolant-to-feed-the-lines!”
Ultra Magnus moved to Blurr’s side, steadying himself against the rocking deck. “Prioritize the primary stabilizers. If we lose control, none of this will matter.”
“Done-and-done!” Blurr squeaked, hands dashing over the console. “But-if-you-tell-me-to-do-one-other-thing-I’m-going-to-short-circuit!”
Kup’s optics flicked up from the display. “Two hundred kliks to the gap! Springer, floor it!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” Springer growled, pushing the thrusters to their limit. The engines screamed in protest, lights on the dashboard flickering red.
Hot Rod could feel the ship trembling beneath him—like it was trying to tear itself apart just to survive. “C’mon,” he muttered under his breath. “Hold together, just a little longer.”
Outside the viewport, the rift began to close, arcs of violent energy converging around the thinning gap.
Springer cursed, voice tight. “Kup, if those readings are off by even a nanoklik—”
“They’re not!” Kup barked back. “Now go!”
Hot Rod gritted his teeth, every circuit in his body tense as the Starburst surged forward—straight into the collapsing storm.
The Starburst ripped through the narrowing slit in the Rift like a shot through glass. Energy flared white-hot across the hull, every light on the bridge blinking to maximum alert before abruptly cutting out. Then—silence. The roaring static vanished, replaced by the calm hum of normal space. The ship coasted, rattling once, twice, and then leveled into a smooth drift.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Just the sound of the engines stabilizing filled the air.
Springer was the first to break the silence. “Tell me we’re not atomized.”
Kup blinked at his console, optics flicking between readings. The navigation display realigned, showing a vast field of stars glittering in the dark. “We’re not atomized,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. “We’re in… Sector Ten.”
“Sector Ten?” Blurr zipped over to Kup’s console, staring at the readout. “Sector-Ten?As-in-the-Sector-Ten?The-one-near-Sector-Twelve—”
“Yeah, that one,” Kup cut him off with a grunt. “Looks like we skipped half the grid comin’ through that Rift. Must’ve hit some kind of spatial tunnel. Primus knows how, but—heh—it worked.”
Hot Rod leaned back in his chair, optics wide with relief. “You’re telling me we just jumped weeks of travel by accident?”
Kup smirked, his old faceplates creasing. “Looks that way. Two weeks from the coordinates, give or take a few days for recalibration.”
Hot Rod whooped, punching the air. “Ha! You hear that? Two weeks! We’re right on top of it!”
Springer grinned, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. “That’s two months shaved off our schedule, easy.”
Blurr clapped his servos together so fast they sparked. “Two-months-shaved-off-that’s-incredible!I’m-adding-that-to-our-lucky-statistics-right-now!”
Ultra Magnus crossed his arms, still looking over the readings. “Improbable. But I’ll take improbable over impossible any day.”
“C’mon, big guy, you can admit it,” Hot Rod said with a grin. “That was some flying.”
Ultra Magnus gave him a long, unimpressed look. “…Reckless. But effective.”
Springer laughed. “You could at least pretend you’re impressed.”
Kup shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Don’t push your luck, lad. Let the commander stay grumpy—it keeps the universe balanced.”
The tension that had hung over the bridge evaporated in a wave of exhausted laughter. Even Blurr finally stopped talking long enough to breathe, collapsing into his chair with a grin.
Hot Rod turned his seat toward the comms console, tapping a control with a flick of his wrist. “Medibay, come in. Wheelie, Arcee—you two still in one piece down there?”
The line crackled, then Wheelie’s voice came through, sounding chipper. “Still in one piece, still together—but that was some serious weather!”
“Tell me you felt that jump,” Hot Rod said, still grinning. “We made it out of the Rift—and landed in Sector Ten. We’re only two weeks out from the coordinates!”
There was a pause, then Arcee’s tired but amused voice came through. “You mean to tell me all that shaking and screaming actually worked?”
Hot Rod laughed. “Worked like a charm! Kup’s already got a heading. We’re back on track.”
“Well,” Arcee said, her voice softening, “then that’s the best news I’ve heard in days. Maybe now we can get some real recharge.”
Wheelie’s voice piped up again, quick and high. “You heard the femme! No more crazy jumps, then?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Hot Rod said, still grinning. “No promises.”
Springer leaned back in his seat, optics half-lidded. “Two weeks, huh? Almost sounds relaxing.”
Kup scoffed. “Don’t get too cozy, kid. With our luck, we’ll hit three ambushes, a dead system, and probably a space worm before we get there.”
“Then we’ll just outrun ‘em all,” Hot Rod said, optics bright. “Because that’s what the Starburst does.”
Magnus gave a quiet hum of disapproval that no one took seriously. The bridge filled again with quiet laughter, the crew finally allowing themselves to breathe.
Beyond the viewport, the Rift was gone—replaced by the glittering calm of deep space. And for the first time in weeks, it actually felt like hope was within reach.
Blurr’s console beeped—a sharp, insistent tone that cut through the laughter like a blade. He froze, optics darting to the readout. “Uh—hey—Hot-Rod—you-might-want-to-see-this-right-now—”
Hot Rod straightened instantly, grin fading. “What is it, Blurr?”
“Incoming-transmission!” Blurr said, his words tangling together in panic. “Encrypted-Decepticon-frequency!Origin—SectorTen—no,wait—it’s-tracing-from-the-Rift-we-just-left!”
Kup’s optics narrowed. “Fraggin’ hell. They actually followed us?”
Ultra Magnus moved to Blurr’s side, scanning the data. “The encryption matches Cyclonus’s signature. It’s him.”
Springer groaned. “Of course it’s him. Can’t let us breathe for a single astrosecond, can he?”
Hot Rod’s servo hovered over the comms control. He could already feel the tension creeping through the bridge again, the familiar heaviness that always followed that name.
“Play it,” he said quietly.
Blurr hesitated. “You—uh—sure-about-that?”
“Play it,” Hot Rod repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.
The screen flickered, static swallowing the display for a few seconds before resolving into a figure cloaked in shadow. Cyclonus loomed, his optics a deep, burning crimson, the glow carving sharp angles across his face. Behind him, faint silhouettes of his crew moved like ghosts, their shapes distorted by the transmission feed.
When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to frost metal. “So. The little Starburst crew survives again.”
Hot Rod’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Cyclonus tilted his head, faint amusement curving the edge of his words. “You run well. I’ll give you that. Through fire, through storms, through the Rift itself… yet still, you flee.”
Springer crossed his arms, glaring up at the screen. “You’d run too if you were stuck with a freighter.”
Cyclonus didn’t even blink. “You mistake distance for safety, Springer. There is no safety from me.”
His optics flared brighter, filling the screen with red light. “Do not get comfortable, Autobots. Do not mistake this moment for victory. You cannot outrun inevitability. You cannot hide from fate.”
Hot Rod stood, leaning forward, voice sharp. “You’re wasting your breath. You’ll never catch us.”
Cyclonus’s expression didn’t change. His tone, however, lowered—silken and absolute. “I will hunt you down, Hot Rod. I will chase you until the stars themselves burn out.”
Then the transmission cut, plunging the bridge into silence.
For a long time, no one spoke. The hum of the engines was the only sound.
Kup exhaled, the noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Well. There’s your space worm.”
Springer forced a crooked grin. “Guess we’ll just have to fly faster.”
Hot Rod stared at the empty screen a moment longer before turning away, optics hard but steady. “Let him chase,” he muttered. “We’ve got a head start.”
And as the Starburst drifted through the cold glitter of Sector Ten, the promise of pursuit hung over them like a shadow that refused to fade.