Transformers: Rise of the Decepticon

With the clan leaders dismissed, Skygnaw departed the palace, leaving Wala to his administrative duties as he boarded the Nemesis, which hovered silently over Menlo.

Building a space fleet was a massive undertaking. Even with access to advanced Cybertronian blueprints and industrial designs, assembling heavy warships would take months of groundwork.

For now, everything moved according to plan.

Skygnaw held the complete rosters of the noble houses, ensuring no clan would dare cross him.

Controlling the empire did not require managing its vast population directly. Securing the obedience of the few ruling families was more than enough to rule the entire nation.

The lower-caste Mindborn carried out orders without question, far more compliant than the populations of most worlds Skygnaw had encountered.

If the ancient founder of the empire were somehow revived, he would likely show no mercy to the corrupt bloodlines exploiting the common folk.

Still, Skygnaw cared little for internal social dynamics. He had backed Wala as a puppet ruler not on a whim, but because the young noble held the proper status to maintain stability.

As an aristocrat, Wala's ascension was something the other high clans could eventually swallow.

While rival houses squabbled internally, they consistently closed ranks whenever the lower castes threatened their shared hold on power.

Elevating a low-caste worker to the throne would have drawn unified resistance from every noble family, complicating Skygnaw's control over his new vassal state.

Far to the south, in Tas City, the siege had finally ended, and Gamo was among the fortunate few who had survived.

Unit after unit of the First Engineer Regiment had been wiped out during the defense. Even Gamo's direct commander, the regiment's chief officer, had fallen during a hazardous trench fortification detail.

Yet Gamo remained uninjured.

For a fresh recruit, surviving such heavy attrition was exceptionally rare.

Because of this, a promotion in rank was virtually guaranteed.

It was not because Gamo had performed extraordinary heroics, but because he currently held the rank of Private, the lowest grade in the imperial military.

At that level, advancement came quickly after major engagements. In a meat-grinder siege where three-quarters of the garrison fell, simply coming back alive was considered a significant contribution.

Now a seasoned veteran, Gamo was stationed outside Tas City, helping clear the surrounding battlefield.

Following Skygnaw's departure, Blackarachnia had briefly taken the Nemesis back to the capital to tow away the captured flagship, Abyssal Lord, taking her growing swarm of mechanical insects with her.

With their departure, Tas City returned to a fragile peace, setting aside the endless fields of fallen soldiers outside the walls.

Recalling those mechanical insects made Gamo shudder. He had never seen such relentless, ravenous creatures.

From the trenches, he had watched small groups of insects swarm over individual enemy soldiers, tearing through heavy armor plating and devouring the cybernetic remains down to the frame.

Even knowing the swarm was allied with the garrison, the sight had left every surviving soldier cold.

Thanks to the Decepticons' intervention, the fifth and final defensive line had held, leaving the main city structure largely intact.

However, the cost had been catastrophic. Of the original two-hundred-thousand-strong garrison, fewer than sixty thousand remained, while the city's heavy armor corps had been reduced to under three hundred functional suits.

The enemy's desperate final push had inflicted immense casualties on the defenders, even with the Decepticons taking the brunt of the front-line fighting.

While the alien invaders had struggled against Skygnaw's warriors, they had cut through the native garrisons with terrifying ease.

When their local commander fell in a desperate kamikaze attack by Officer Niru, the surviving enemy officers had grown far more cautious. Their individual combat power, matching elite Decepticon units, made them nearly impossible for ordinary soldiers to contain without heavy loss of life.

Heavy casualties were the inevitable price of holding that final trench.

Curiously, over half of the fifty thousand surviving troops belonged to the Silae Clan's Third Corps.

And the commander of that specific corps was none other than General Silae's younger brother, Silae Heng.

A detail that did not go unnoticed by those paying attention.

Thud, thud, thud.

Stepping carefully over ruined fortifications, Gamo worked his way toward the outermost perimeter of the First Defensive Line.

With the threat eliminated, the task of clearing the field was relatively safe.

Looking out across the plain, the shattered terrain bore deep scorch marks, mute evidence of the heavy artillery duels that had leveled the landscape.

War had a way of dulling a soldier's reactions while hardening their composure.

Compared to the nervous recruit who had arrived weeks earlier, Gamo's eyes were weary and hollow. He stared down at the destruction without a trace of emotion.

Gamo carried a heavy, specialized digging tool, scanning the ground before leaping down into a wide shell crater.

Clang.

His primary assignment was recovering structural scrap and enemy remains. With the siege broken, the five outer trench lines were obsolete, rendering further repair work pointless.

Thud.

As he pried a mangled frame from the dirt, urgent shouting echoed from the trench lip above.

"Gamo! Gamo!"

He climbed out of the crater, spotting a familiar figure stumbling across the field. It was Kuna, his closest friend in the regiment.

Kuna stood on the edge of the trench line, looking around frantically until his eyes landed on Gamo. His face lit up with immediate relief.

"Gamo! I finally found you!"

Kuna jogged over, catching his breath as if he had run the entire distance from the main gates.

"Kuna? What is going on?" Gamo asked, lowering his tools in confusion.

"I knew you would be out here!" Kuna panted, waving his hand impatiently. "Drop the gear and come on. The new regiment commander arrived, and we just received fresh orders."

"Fresh orders?" Gamo glanced back at the heavy scrap he had spent the last hour unearthing. Wasn't clearing the field his current assignment?

Noticing Gamo's hesitation, Kuna cast a dismissive glance toward the crater. "Forget about the wreckage out here. Logistics is sending rear-line details to handle salvage. We are getting pulled out of this sector entirely."

"Pulled out?" Gamo blinked, but before he could ask further, Kuna grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the city gates.

Though roughly the same age as Gamo, Kuna was considered a veteran based on his time in service.

He was a pragmatic soldier who prioritized survival above all else. During engineering details under heavy fire, Kuna never took unnecessary risks or exposed himself to enemy line of sight.

While his cautious habits often drew mockery from bolder squad mates, Kuna never lost his temper, always offering the same simple reply: Only the living get to serve the empire.

That mindset, which sounded like an excuse to many, was the sole reason Kuna had survived a campaign with a seventy-five percent casualty rate.

Half-guided and half-dragged, Gamo followed Kuna back through the main gates of Tas City.

Stepping into the lower districts, Gamo noticed officers and work crews moving briskly in every direction, moving with an urgency that had been absent during the post-siege lull.

"Kuna, what is happening here?"

Gamo tried to ask why the city's routine had shifted so suddenly, but Kuna ignored the question, veering off toward the central district.

Gamo had no choice but to follow close behind.

They soon arrived at Tas Square, a massive assembly ground in the heart of the city where hundreds of troops had already gathered.

To Gamo's surprise, engineering units from all four military corps were present, lined up in tight formations across the paved grounds.

"Sir! Private Gamo located and present!"

Kuna halted before a senior sergeant of the First Engineer Regiment, bringing his right arm across his chest in a crisp salute. The sergeant returned the gesture before pointing toward the ranks.

"Gamo, Kuna—fall in."

"Yes, sir!"

Though thoroughly confused, Gamo followed Kuna into the First Engineer Regiment's block, stepping into a spot that had remained vacant since the final assault on the trenches.

Across the square, late arrivals from other units were being hurried into formation by their respective squad leaders.

Whatever new directive had been issued, it was an urgent, large-scale operation that involved the entire engineering force of the southern theater.

Having lived through weeks of brutal combat, Gamo had long lost his timid nature. After scanning the unfamiliar faces filling out the company, he nudged Kuna with his elbow.

"Kuna, you always hear rumors early. Mind filling me in on what we are doing?"

"Keep your voice down," Kuna muttered, keeping his head straight and eyes fixed forward. "You know about the Decepticons, right?"

"Of course," Gamo nodded quietly.

Every soldier in the garrison knew the Mindborn Empire had officially become a vassal state under the Decepticon leader, Lord Skygnaw.

When the announcement had first broadcast across military channels days ago, many had doubted the news. But once the voice of their new Emperor, Wala, came over the high-frequency networks, disbelief gave way to grim acceptance.

Whatever the common soldiers felt about the arrangement, decisions made at the highest levels of the imperial government were beyond their power to challenge.

"Word is our unit is being reassigned because of the Decepticons," Kuna whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "We are being deployed to construct some kind of industrial shipyard."

"A shipyard?" Gamo frowned, unfamiliar with the term in a military context. "What is that supposed to be?"

"How should I know?" Kuna replied, shaking his head. He had little interest in asking questions about high-level orders, as long as the work kept them far away from the front lines.

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