Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 1: Settling In)

TMC 1-7

Back on Cybertron, in the Council Chambers of Iacon, a cacophony of voices was going on between the mechs and femmes that made up the Council of Cybertron. On the main Central Floor, a femme named Strongarm and her Conjux Endura, Prowl watched as the councilors debated very loudly. Strongarm was heavily built with a Police issue 2016 Chevy Tahoe alternate mode. The doors were her wings, the rear of the vehicle became her feet, the front of the vehicle swung down so that the angle of the window and the roof became her chest. Prowl’s alternate mode was a Police issue 2016 Chevy Impala. His robot mode was similar to Jazz, just in law enforcement colors. Their helmet designs were simplistic and had a set of horns on top. “This is nuts!” whispered Strongarm to Prowl.

“Apparently this is politics,” muttered Prowl.

“Mesdames et Messieurs, S’IL VOUS PLAÎT!!” roared a mech that had the alternate mode of a 2015-spec Audi R18 e-tron quattro. The front wheels and the wheel wells became the shoulders. The top of the car became the robot’s back. The hood became his chest and the rear of the car became his feet. His helmet design had a panel on each side of the head. This mech was Wheeljack in robot mode.

“What?!” called a Councilmech.

“It’s too hot,” replied Wheeljack.

“…Yeah, I suppose it is,” remarked the Councilmech. Wheeljack addressed the assembly.

“Having debated for at least ten cycles,” he called, “the voting shall begin. We shall finally decide on whether or not to send Monsieur Prowl and Madame Strongarm after Optimus to warn him that it was not the Throttlebots that hijacked the Harbinger, but the escaped Decepticon prisoners that broke out of the stockade a solar cycle ago. Remember, the vote must be at least 53% as Iacon must remain neutral. All those in favor, signify by saying aye. All against, say nay.” The councilors agreed and the voting began. “Altihex,” called Wheeljack.

“Altihex says aye,” replied Councilfemme Switchblade.

“Ankmor Park.”

“Ankmor Park says aye,” answered Councilmech Downshift, Tarkana 5’s uncle.

“Axiom Nexus.”

“Axiom Nexus says nay,” grunted Councilfemme Crashcourse.

“Central City.”

“Central city says aye!” rumbled Councilmech Groundpound.

“Crystal City.”

“Crystal City says nay,” called Councilfemme Neela.

“Cyber City.”

“Cyber City says nay,” replied Councilfemme Treble.


“Cybertropolis says aye,” affirmed Councilmech Snapshot.


“Gygax says nay,” grunted Councilmech Ramrod.

“Hive City.”

“Hive city says nay,” whispered Councilmech Pounce.


“Kalis says aye,” called Councilfemme Slicer.


“Kaon says nay,” reported Councilmech Cryotek.


“Polyhex says nay…nay,” rasped Councilmech Shrapnel.


“Wheeljack,” called Councilmech Blazer, “Praxus abstains, courteously.” Wheeljack stood up in anger, and then coolly sat back down.

“Councilmech Blazer,” said Prowl calmly. His demeanor soon changed. “WHAT IN THE PIT GOES ON IN OUR HOME’S GOVERNMENT?! WHY DOESN’T PRAXUS SIMPLY STAY IN PRAXUS?!”

“Prowl, that was out of line,” rebuked Wheeljack.

“I apologize, Wheeljack,” replied Prowl, “but my home’s councilor, whom I voted for, has been abstaining from crucial votes for a while now; everyone in Praxus is starting to make fun of him.”

“I’m sorry, Prowl,” sighed Blazer, “but the simple fact is that the government of Praxus never sent the delegation any specific instructions.”

“Never?!” yelped Strongarm. “That’s impossible!”

“Have you ever been to a meeting of the Praxian Legislature?” asked Blazer. “They speak very fast, very loud, and very rudely with the result that nothing ever gets done.” He turned to the rest of the council. “I beg the council’s pardon.”

“My sympathies, Blazer,” sighed Wheeljack. “All right, continuing, Simfur.”

“Simfur says aye,” called Councilfemme Flamewar.


“Tarn says aye,” reported Councilmech Road Rage.


“One,” hissed Councilfemme Broadcast, “we’ve already voted that our new name was Trypticon. Two, we respectfully yield to our fair sister state, Tyger Pax.”

“All right, Tyger Pax.”

“Wheeljack,” purred Councilfemme Pastime, “we in the Northern city states have always seen the carnage of war. We have seen a lot of sanctions ignored, a lot of laws disregarded, and a lot of general help being given the cold shoulder. Thanks to the Pax Cybertronia, we have improved social help immensely. That treaty has been the stepping stone that we needed for these stellar cycles of peace. In the interests of peace, Tyger Pax is content to see how the eventual meeting between Optimus’ team and these escaped Decepticons will play out. The vote is nay.”

“Trypticon…” began Broadcast.

“Says nay,” interrupted Wheeljack. “I know. Vos.”

“Vos says aye,” rumbled Councilmech Stock.

“And last, but not least, Yuss.”

“Yuss says aye,” grunted Councilmech Barrel.

“That’s nine for yes,” counted Wheeljack, “nine for no with one abstention. To break the tie, we must hear the Voice of the Council. Governor Straxus, what is your decision?” Straxus was a tall, imposing, blue mech with a metallic goatee and a helmet that looked like a hood. He stood up slowly, cleared his throat, and then spoke.

“Esteemed Gentlefemmes and Gentlemechs,” he began.

“Here we go…go,” whispered Shrapnel to his fellow Insecticons, Bombshell and Kickback.

“As you know,” continued Straxus, “many of us have stood on the tail end of a three million, three hundred forty eight thousand, six hundred twenty three point eight five stellar cycle war. Many city-states were burnt to the ground; I believe I am right in naming Praxus and Crystal City. Those wounds are still being healed but, thanks to the Pax Cybertronia, they are healing rapidly. One of the sanctions forbids us from travelling to worlds that our war touched. Oh yes, we can still keep our colony worlds. Visiting planets like Nebulos, Regulon IV, Femax, and Earth on the other hand, it’s forbidden because those planets may harbor hatred against us. If I recall correctly, it is for our protection as well as theirs that we do not visit. We left some rather big scars on those planets and some of their weaponry has pierced the skin of a Cybertronian.” Shrapnel smirked. “But,” continued Straxus, “we must remember that Optimus heard from Jazz that someone is digging up the resting places of fallen warriors. If that person discovers how we function and combines it with Earth technology, we will face another war, this time against humans. And if these Decepticon radicals strike Earth without any warning, we will surely face our darkest hour. Therefore, I must vote for sending Prowl and Strongarm to Earth to warn Optimus about this development.” Cheers and jeers met the end of that speech.


“Now, hear me out, Shrapnel,” called Straxus, “can we truly let these radicals run around Earth unmolested? We would once again stain our fair planet with the innermost Energon of innocents and innocence. Either we curb this nonsense now, or we damn Cybertron and her people to war once again!” Shrapnel looked coldly at Straxus before sitting back down.

“The bot’s from Polyhex…Polyhex,” he sighed in defeat.

“With the vote being in Prowl and Strongarm’s favor,” called Wheeljack, “we shall prepare the Space Bridge to…”

“Wheeljack, hold on a cycle…cycle,” called Shrapnel. “Of course I understand that Optimus must be warned…warned, but what about Prowl’s job…job? He is chief of the Elite Guard Law Enforcement division in Praxus…Praxus. If Prowl must absolutely go to Earth…Earth, I must make it that he goes alone and Strongarm take his place as Chief of the Praxian Law Enforcement…Enforcement.”

“That’s absurd!” scoffed Strongarm. “We already have Sideswipe!”

“Sideswipe?” gulped Blazer. “Oh dear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Strongarm.

“Well,” stammered Blazer, “from what I’ve heard, Sideswipe was demoted for letting a notorious perp get through a Space Bridge. From what’s been reported, the perp was Thunderhoof.”

“The crime boss?” asked Prowl.

“The same,” confirmed Blazer.

“Scrap,” swore Prowl.

“In light of this,” called Councilmech Kickback, “I second the motion of Strongarm staying on Cybertron.”

“Kickback,” hissed Wheeljack, “in your zeal to be heard, you seem to forget that a member of a delegation cannot second the delegation’s own motion!”

“Oh…yeah,” muttered Kickback. “Well…I still second it!”

“COUNCILMECH KICKBACK!” snapped Wheeljack.

“Vector Prime!” swore Kickback.

“Kaon seconds,” replied Cryotek.

“You would, you lousy grease spot,” snarled Flamewar.

“All right, since we’re dragging this out, I’ll make the vote quick,” sighed Wheeljack. “Straxus, count ze votes.”

“Of course,” replied Straxus.

“All in favor?” asked Wheeljack.

“Aye!” called part of the council.

“10 say aye,” replied Straxus.

“Against?” asked Wheeljack.

“Nay,” remarked the other part.

“9 say nay,” reported Straxus.

“Hold on,” bid Wheeljack. “Blazer, did you vote?”

“I did,” confirmed Blazer. “I’m sorry, Strongarm, but, in the interests of security, I must insist that you remain in Praxus.” Strongarm sighed.

“If it’s the will of the council, then so be it,” she said.

“I’m gonna miss you, my lovely lady of law enforcement,” mumbled Prowl.

“Be safe on Earth,” replied Strongarm. “Be careful of the ‘Cons.”

“And you watch out for Barricade,” warned Prowl. “Fire him if he goes too far.”

“Will do,” confirmed Strongarm. The council session soon ended and Prowl and Strongarm headed back to their home in Praxus to prepare for Prowl’s departure.

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