The reaction of each Autobot to the chaos that had been prompted by the emergency warning system at the Iacon Command Center varied according to their level of experience and expertise. Most of the senior officers kept their wits about them as they attempted to organize the lower ranks into some kind of working order; however, due to the high amount of panic and confusion that dominated the less experienced among them, this proved to be a difficult task.
Panic escalated as drones found their way into the med bay, and then down along the hallways as they began to swarm the ground floor of the center. It was no use firing at them with blasters or slowing them down with explosives, as more drones would simply replace those that had not been made stronger by the weapons fire. Everywhere, Autobots tried desperately to distance themselves from the invading army while helping as many as they could to escape the sudden onslaught, though with superior strength and vast numbers, the drones were all but unstoppable. Sealed doors seemed to be no barrier for them, nor were bulkheads, as they lay to waste anything and everything that blocked their path. There was no way to fight them, and no way to hold them back.
Hot Rod and his two class mates found themselves stranded inside the communications center, which was situated on the top level of the command post adjacent to the control room, where it was still free of drones. They watched in alarm as Autobots all about them evacuated to the lower levels, where they valiantly did all they could to help hold off the sudden invasion, though their best efforts could only buy them a little more time.
"Primus help us. What are we gonna do?" Blaster said in shock, as Hot Rod looked back at his friends with wide optics.
"Oh, scrap!" the red and orange cadet replied, cursing. "Come on, Hot Rod – think, think!" he told himself sotto voce, turning back to the communications console as he tried to maintain self-control.
Magnus reached out a hand, resting it on his shoulder. "Try calling the Academy – let them know what's going on!"
"Right, right!" Hot Rod leaped into action, frantically operating the console and hoping that it still functioned. "Come on, come on…"
After a tentative few astro-seconds, he re-established contact with the War Academy. "Hello? Optronix? Come on… anyone?"
"We hear you, Iacon Command," said a voice. It was not Optronix. "Go ahead."
"The drones have broken through – we're under attack!" Hot Rod blurted out. "Please, do something!"
"Please try to remain calm. We'll try to send help…" the voice answered uncertainly, trailing off. Several moments went by before the other end spoke again. "Hello, Hot Rod?" It was Optronix. "Listen, we're going to send over a team to help get you all out of there. Try to hold on until then."
Hot Rod nodded his head thankfully, exhaling hard. "Okay. Okay."
And with that, the connection was disconnected.
As the emergency warning system continued to alert the command post, the small team of Decepticons were soon forgotten, left to their own devices as the Autobots around them sprang into action to deal with the critical situation in whatever manner they could.
Unlike the vast majority of Autobots, most Decepticons possessed efficient flight capabilities, which would be a distinct and important advantage against the drones.
"I sure hope Shockwave can come up with some way to stop these drones real soon," Thundercracker said above the ensuing commotion, as he peered out of the control room window at the drones that were still hanging onto the structure just outside. The control room was being evacuated by the Autobots, including Prowl, as they sought to concentrate all their mech power to the lower levels to fend off the incoming army. "Until then, what can we do to help?" he said, turning to Megatron and the three other jets.
"We can't relocate every Autobot – there's way too many of them, and too few of us," Skywarp reasoned. "Plus, it looks like time's run out already."
"Perhaps we may be able to distract the drones, enough to allow the Autobots time to escape," Megatron replied. "What might immediately draw their attention?"
Thinking quickly, Starscream looked at them in earnest. "I have an idea."
Prowl ran out of the control room to join the mechs in the hallway, shouting out orders here and there as he went. Heading to the elevator platform that would take him down several levels, he tried to keep up with the frenzy of reports and calls for assistance that he found himself being bombarded with from Autobots all around him.
He reasoned that the most vulnerable area, and hence the area that would need the most protection against a direct invasion, was the med bay; not only was it one of the first places the drones would target, but there were recovering or semi-functional mechs there who would be unable to properly defend themselves.
Prowl made his way directly to the ground level as fast as he could go, pushing past several Autobots as he went. Upon arriving at the med bay, he was immediately faced with a scene that he wished he would never have to witness again. The mostly white-colored medical officer – the same one who had shown Jazz inside the center earlier – now lay on the ground struggling against two drones that had overpowered him and were in the process of violently clawing at his outer armor. Other drones were wreaking a similar amount of havoc as they terrorized the med bay attendants, causing damage to tables and equipment as they went, while the patients that were able to move almost threw themselves off their berths in an attempt to get away from the non-living mechanical monsters.
Jazz, still weakened from his previous encounter, reached out to grab one of the drones that was attacking the medical officer, yelling out to Prowl as he entered the med bay. "Need some help over here!"
Prowl rushed over to assist, and together they managed to tear one of the drones off the mech, allowing him to quickly scramble away and out of reach of the other one. Prowl ran to him, helping to drag him away to safety.
"Ah, thanks. I'll be okay," the medic said, struggling to stand up. He had sustained obvious injuries to his head and torso. "Help get the patients to safety," he said to Prowl, still disoriented from his encounter.
"We're doing everything we can," Prowl answered, and then went to the aide of other mechs, doing whatever he could to fight off the drones, but they were fast losing the battle. He knelt down beside a fallen Autobot nearby, examining him, and was disheartened to realize that he had been deactivated. "Dammit."
Across the room, Prowl watched four drones converging on another victim as Jazz also looked on, distraught and unable to do anything to stop them. Several screams for help suddenly rang out around the room and from the hallway outside, and as he looked around, he suddenly felt overwhelmed and froze, as if his main processor was experiencing a sudden system failure. His visual processor seemed to malfunction, as moving images flashed before his optics, and he held his head in his hands, trying desperately to refocus his thoughts and steady himself. As he did so, he heard a sudden loud boom, like the sound of thunder directly overhead, and he began to wonder whether his audial receptors were malfunctioning as well.
But Prowl was not the only mech to have heard the boom and loud rumbling; every single mech in the Command Center who was still functional had heard it, too. It was followed by what could only have been the sound of several low flying jets streaking past outside, so low in the sky that it seemed as though they would crash right into the command post. But the surprise air show did not end then. The sound of several cluster bombs and torpedoes hitting the ground all around suddenly shook the very foundation of the building – yet incredibly, it remained intact. Then, the sonic boom from the first jet came again, accompanied by the sound of other jets low in the sky, and then more torpedoes.
The pattern of this air strike seemed to repeat itself over and over, and Jazz, realizing that the continual volley of bombs was not, in actual fact, targeting the command post itself but the drones outside, understood what was happening. The shockwaves that were being caused by the bombardment were actually slowing the drones down as they momentarily stopped their attack to wildly look about for the cause of the loud disturbances, growling and twisting their heads around at unnatural angles.
Jazz took the opportunity, and pushed his way past mechs and debris through the med bay. As the drones around him continued to stand in a daze, wondering after the air show outside, Jazz called out to every mech within audio range. "Everybody out, now!" He grabbed Prowl by the arm and forced him back to his feet.
"What's… what's going on?" the second-in-command asked in confusion.
"It's the Decepticons," Jazz explained, "They're buying us some time. We've got to get everybody out while the drones are distracted!"
It took Prowl a few seconds to register what Jazz had just told him, but then he sprang into action, taking charge once more, and the two of them began evacuating as many Autobots as they could.
Word of Shockwave's discovery had spread quickly around the Decepticon base, and soon his laboratory was crowded.
"The bad news is that the Ore-13 that is running the drones is giving them their strength and stamina, and rendering most forms of weapons fire ineffective against them," Scrapper explained to the newcomers. "From what I've heard, the more a mech relies on the stuff as their source of power, the more unstable their logic processor becomes, until they eventually go insane."
"But the drones don't have any logic," Blast Off pointed out.
Hook answered him, "That's true, which is why Deluge infused his drones with it – he doesn't want them to be able to think. He wants them to accept and carry out orders blindly."
"That's correct, and it's one of the reasons why the Ore-13 doesn't affect them in the same way that it would living mechanoids like us," Scrapper added. "Deluge is controlling them remotely somehow, but he's limited to giving them simple instructions. The drones won't understand complex commands."
"What do you mean? What's the other reason?" Blackjack, the Stunticon leader, asked.
Scrapper looked around at the gathered Decepticons. "Well, the other reason is because they're dead." A hush fell over them as they contemplated this information, their optics drawn towards the drone in the center of the laboratory.
"Dead? But how?" Swindle broke the awkward silence, intrigued.
Scrapper glanced towards Shockwave. The purple Decepticon looked around the crowded room at the many optics that were waiting expectantly for an answer to Swindle's question, and began to share with them what he knew. "Under normal circumstances, this would not be possible," he said, indicating toward the drone. "All mechanistic life forms require two things in order to be recognized as living. One is the ability to fully integrate and utilize the spark energy within their physical structure. The other… is consciousness. It is our spark that allows us to experience individual conscious awareness. Even drones, which possess the most basic level of sentience, require consciousness to operate their basic functions. It is what sets us apart from mere machines." He paused then, watching the drone's animalistic reaction to their presence. "Deluge removed the original spark and personality circuit from each of his victims and drained them of energon, terminating them. Then, he infused the lifeless forms with the Ore-13, which he has managed to somehow imbue with a partial spark. This has created a form of energon that is partially self-aware, and may even possess just enough intelligence to be able to regulate its effects upon the circuitry of its host in a manner that closely resembles self-preservation – effectively preventing the drone's systems from burning out. It might also explain the drones' ability to act as a single entity, demonstrating the characteristics of a hive mind… and thereby, may be controlled as such."
"That's not even possible, is it?" Bombshell questioned, sickened by the very idea of such a scientific accomplishment.
"I didn't believe it, either, until now," Scrapper replied.
Rumble asked the crucial question. "But, how do we stop them? They sound impossible to beat."
Once again, Scrapper answered. "And you'd be right, except for the weakest link in their chain: Deluge himself. Control him, and you control the drones."