Phalanx

The Talon: In orbit around planet T23.2

“Are you sure about this?” The dusty brown robot shakes with the weight of the artillery you were piling into his arms. The sound was noisy and incongruous in the darkly lit hallway.

“Look, it’s been months since we’ve been paid!” You grab a bandoleer of mining stun grenades and throw it over your shoulder.

“It’s just that… mutiny?”

“Mole, you said it yourself. We’ve got to stand up for our rights. If we don’t take what’s ours, who’s to keep it from happening over and over again?”

“Captain Fang…”

“Is a pompous strutting excuse for a Pred. You will get this ship underway and ditch these slaggin’ scientists if they don’t come up with our pay!”

“Well…”

“You’ve heard the crew… They want this as much as you do. Just think of it. Captain Mole of the Predacon Hunter Talon.”

“Yeah… We’ll become the best Pred ship in the fleet!”

--Idiot.—

The mutiny was quick and complete. It all occurred far better than you thought. Mole jumped in and began shooting like the hair triggered and blind dolt that he is. In the ensuing Chaos, you made sure that Captain Talon took a solid hit from your weapon, then re-cocked and placed the double barreled gun to the back of Mole’s head.

When most of the crew woke up from the stun grenades, all they remembered was Mole going ape-slag. You merely stopped him, unfortunately not before the captain fell victim to Mole’s rampage…

No one questioned.

No one cared.

But they new.

It was the Predacon way.

Now, you sat in your command chair staring down into the silvery computer control globe. In it’s swirling depths, the planet below you rotated slowly. The first piece of your plan was underway, a few new Predacon’s were hatched from the stasis pods, and your crew was back at full.

The planet’s image faded out and was replaced by an insectoid face, “Phalanx? Where’s Captain Fang… We’ve been waiting down here for megacycles!”

“There has been an… accident. Captain Fang is deactivated and I am now in control of this mission… until he is repaired.”

--Of course, you’ll have to collect his parts from orbit…--

“You will finished loading the sled and send it up immediately.”

“But we aren’t ready yet!”

“One of the crewmembers went mad and he may still be able to reach you. He ejected from the ship and may survive freefall.”

“I doubt…”

“What you believe is unimportant to me. I will not allow this mission’s collections to be jeopardized. You are to send up the energon, and any pertinent study data that you have so far gathered. Continue the work here and I will send back some stasis pods on the sled. That should ensure your safety.”

“Yes sir.” The bug sounded annoyed and a little more than miserable. You weren’t sure exactly what the research was about, but you knew that there was more than a little ‘under the table’ dealings with the Captain that had been going on… And a quick check in the current credit voucher for the ship proved it.

“Hardnose, lock weapons onto the scientist’s camp. As soon as we have the sled on board and checked over… vaporize them.”

That was how it began…

And for half a year it continued. The Talon became a pirate ship, hunting and raiding along the shipping lanes used by Cybertron and several other well-funded planets. The energon that had been on the sled was sufficient to give you a good start.

But eventually, the Predacons sent ships. At first it was just one or two… easily defeated or evaded, but, one day, as destiny would have it, you found yourself staring down the gunports of three different Hunter ships.

Now, your charred and skeletal remains stared up sightlessly from the smoldering, churning swamp waters amidst the steaming wreckage of the Talon.

Your capacitors were blown, and all energy was expended. Without a fresh supply of energon, your spark would fade and soon be forgotten… Just some renegade madbot who decided to go on a killing spree…

Too bad… and just when you were so close to understanding what those scientist had been working on. They had left something… your CPU was too scrambled now to remember.

You pushed your carcass up on glitching servos. Your optics glittered with static fuzz as you tried to route power to them.

Your optics still worked well though. The hiss and bubbling thickness of the swamp fill the air. It is dark… you think, and debris still was raining down slowly from the sky.

You pushed yourself up and over floppingly, managing only to fall back down on your face.

Your head hit something, making a hollow ringing noise as it struck your metallic skull.

As the static cleared you could make out a canister of some kind… something that survived the crash…

The keypad was just within reach, and you stared at it languidly. The object became slowly recognizable in you scrambled memory banks. It was the container from the planet… the planet where it all started… the ‘project’ of the Predacon scientists.

You had discovered something about it…

--Something to do with energy…--

It WAS energy. Energon.

--Something about it…--

It didn’t matter… you tapped in the command to unlock it with your remaining hand. At first, there was no reaction.

--Something about its makeup… It wasn’t normal…--

A hazy purple glow lit your static filled optics, accompanied by a powerful crackling.

--It was compact… powerful…--

You reached up and into the separated lid.

--Makeup constantly changing, restructuring…--

Energy crackled up your arm.

--Restructuring by absorption… Absorption! The crystal absorbed all energy aroun…--

Are you sure?

Of course.

‘Of couse,’ you are insufferable. I mean he is one of them, but if he is what we believe…

They were made to stop him. If we don’t resurrect this one, who is to say that he will not destroy the very fabric of time and space.

We could always repair it.

It is not ours to repair. We have passed. This place is theirs to protect.

He will not be the same, not with what has absorbed him.

No, he will not be… and perhaps that is the proper path.

And if he chooses Chaos?

So be it.

Of course.

--Systems, online.—

Lazily, you slide an eye open. It rotates on its axis as the membrane slides slowly away. A peel of thunder and a flash of light etch the dark skies and force you to momentarily close your eye again. Thunder shakes your body as it slowly rumbles across the forest below.

Again you open your eyes, this time uncurling your neck and extending out over the edge below you.

Your perch appeared to be an enormous column of stone. It stretched for hundred of meters into the air above a dark forest.

“Systems scan.”

The wet rain began to splatter down on our face, trickling between the thick plates and scales of your body.

--Plates? Scales?—

You had scales before, but they were fine, small… almost smooth…

--Systems fully operational. Power supply at maximum.—

You sat up on our haunches, bringing one of your talons to bear.

You turned the intricately molded claw over, looking at its unrecognizable surface. Metal was interlaced on your body, an odd mixture of a shiny-chromelike metal and a translucent gray material. As you turned your claw, smoke seemed to wisp out of its joints.

--What the slag…--

You stretched out massive wings, smoke curled up and away from you, your body was a mesh of shiny metals, translucence, and gray scaled flesh. It was thicker and heavier than your previous body, and definitely larger.

Another peel of lightning flashed, and you could almost see through your chest plate… wires, circuits, and organs all were hinted at in the murky depths of your chest.

--What AM I?!?--

?T23.2? - The Jungles

"Systems scan. Query, what amounts of physical change have been made?"\

--Complete systems rebuild. Armor, generators, all systems...--

"Ok, ok, what hasn't been rebuilt."

--Nothing.--

"Nothing? What is the status on internal spark systems."

--Relocated, unidentifiable.--

"Unidentifiable, explain... summarize."

--Wave patterns emitted by spark are not reckognized as common Cybertronian spark forms or variences. Chaber itself is unidentified material locked with unknown energy dampening systems.--

"Great..."

You sit back on your heavy haunches and try to remember how you got here. Of in the distance the storm seemed to intensify. Thunder crashed down around the heavy jungle hills around you.

--I remember the ship, and the crash... then it get's... hazy. Something about that energon that we pulled from the Predacon dig... I do remember those voices... Whoever they were.--

You look up as a heavy sheet of rain begins to cascade down around you, running off in small streams from your thck scales.

"Whatever I am, and whoever they are, I'm not likely to find out if I just sit here. Computer, how long have I been offline?"

--100 planetary cycles.--

"WHAT?!?"

You've been offline for a century...?

You bit down your shock, "Coordinates of the Talon's remains."

The computer pointed you out quite a distance from the tower of rock that you sat on.

--Not likely much to be left... Not after a centruy of jungle life. But perhaps worth a look... after I see if there's anything around here...--

Around here... You look over the ledge into the expansive darkness. The tower you sat on was made of some kind of stone, smooth and hard. And on closer inspection, you realize that it appears to be made out of a solid shaft of the material. Impressive, the tower itself was as tall as the tallest in Cybertron, perhaps even taller! It seemed to have a slight curve to it, expanding as it went down, giving the odd impression of a rib... the fact that you could now see about five other tower, seeming set in two lines of equidistance, didn't help to dispel that impression any.

"Scan filter. Remove biological matter."

You're optics turned a slight shade of blue, and then the trees and plants below began to dissappear bit by bit. Your perception of the jungle floor dropped away with them... The disappearing trees kept phasing out farther and farther down!! It was half a kilometer farther down than you had thought!! As the jungle disappeared, other buildings of mind numbing proportions appeared. Each bilt as if by a single stone, each curved at odd, alien angles...

You shut off your scan and looked back up at the stormy sky. The thunderstorm was only intensifying, heavy bolts of lightning now licked from cloud to cloud in an almost endless game of leapfrog.

--Well, looks like my best bet is to search this 'city'...--

Though, if memory served you at all, the planet that you had crashed on was a relatively unexplored but unpopulated sphere. There were great expanses of jungle life, and it was thought that it may be a good source of continuing energon studies...

If that was so, then perhaps Cybertron had an outpost of some kind here. Pit, they wouldn't even recognize you if you stood up and danced on their heads! If you could just find the outpost, introduce yourself, and perhaps get a ride off this mudball...

You leap off the edge, spreading your wings out and catching the gusty wind drafts from the storm and plunging into the deep, dark forest canopy.

You clawed your way through hundreds of meters of thick vine canopies, heavy branchlike vines, some of witch could have supported a tank!

Eventually, you found your way down to the bottom...

The base of the column must ahve stretched over a thousand five hundred meters!

The ground was made of the same material as the column, and not a seam or a chip mark could be seen on either. They were almost perfectly smooth, unfroken by plant or time.

You transform, your wings folding back and up under heavy covers on your back, your legs expanding and starightening somewhat...

The darkness down here was complete... no light could possibly eek through for the thick foliage that buried these odd buildings. However, your eyes adjust quickly, altering their perception in some new way to allow an eerie blue-gray landscape to appear around you.

The bases of geat buildings came into a fuzzy reality, a hazy, half-real scene created by your optics in this cavelike world.

You began your exploration searching these bases for any sign of opening or of familiar markings.

Great black veins streatched and swirled across the broader flats of the buildings, alien designs that were embedded or died into the odd stone. Silvery writing could be seen crowding the swirls, writing in a language you did not know, and were unable to decipher.

Then, in a geat central buldig you found a set of thick steps. You climbed up the oddly curved and even odder spaced steps

A great central portal sat atop, half-hidden for the jungle vines that drooped down across it. Some great bestial carving covered it's surface, done in a crystal that seemed to swirl with dark unrevealed colors in a constant maelstrom of madness.

--Ok, not Cybertronian...--

You braced yourself against the door and pushed.

Softly, easily, the door pushed inward. The only struggle put up was by the vines, which fell in thick, deadened clumps.

From those insides, a breath of feotid air rushed out, and from somewhere voices seemed to whisper to you, vague shadows of voice, laughter, and crying all swirled together in a silent breath.

Then there was stillness...

T23.2- A Lost City

You mutter to yourself, complaining about strange alien architecture, the foolishness of 'rushing' in headlong...

Then, you step into the cloaking darkness.

Here, even your improved optics had a hard time adjusting. Vague shapes formed out of the enveloping pitch, enough to keep you from ramming into any walls. But any hope of detail was lost.

--What I'd give for a nice pair of headlights now!--

After a short entrance, you found that the area around you spread out, stretching off into infinity.

--Who would have rebuilt me, then put me on top of some spire in the middle of phantom-land? What about those voices!?--

You weren't even sure if you had heard the whispering nothingness. A scan of your records showed no such audio patterns recorded. Perhaps you were going mad?

Your footfalls seemed to fade away and become muffled as you moved forward. You claws no longer clattered along the floor. You were filled with a sluggish feeling that seemed to cushion your movements as you kept walking.

You checked your processors, but they seemed to be running nominally. The thick feeling seemed almost palpable though.

The path you followed into the infinity led straight, a black floor to either side gave the impression that one wrong step would drop you off into that terminal darkness.

Something moved.

You whipped your head to the side, something out in that darkness had drifted upward. You were sure of it. Something large.

"Hello!?" Your voice sounded thick, almost unintelligible. As if heard underwater.

There was no reply.

You began to move off the path, step out into that darkness.

When a soft, greenish glow began to filter up from below, filling the dark void with a ghastly ichor.

The room became somewhat illumed. Still, walls and floor were not to be seen. Movement all around became apparent, and as your eyes adjusted, a myriad of floating shapes drifted amidst the thick darkness. Alien forms, seeming to swim about on the edges of your sight. A huge bubble floated up from beneath where the floor should have been and drifts past you lazily... the same movement that you had barely perceived earlier.

As you strained to see in the gloom, you realized that the movement patterns resembled fish swimming just beyond your reach. But such monstrously deformed fish as to send chills coursing through your circuits. Every now and then one would float closer to you, within your sight, long, and eelike, some with gaping jaws, some with lines of blind eyes.

As you stared out into the pale glom, you caught site of larger things moving in that emptiness.

"Computer, scan atmosphere content."

--Oxygen, Carbon Dioxide...--

"Cancel scan density."

--Density within .05 percent of normal.--

"Impossible. Those lifeforms couldn't poss..."

Your thought was interrupted by a new filter of light ahead of you. This one was white, and came from a large circular platform. Above the platform floated lazily a massive, translucent creature. Fins stretched and swayed around it in every direction, and no discernable features could be made from where you stood, gape mouthed in confusion.

Something in the massive bulk twitched, and beneath the clear surface you could see organs jolt into life, muscle-like fibers tensed, and the body jerked notably in you direction.

The twitch had covered half the distance between the two of you, and now, it had stopped. It floated casually, as if it were watching you, yet still, no eyes, mouth... or any other outer organs could be seen.

"Who are you?"

The creature lurched forward again, snatching you upward this time in a rush of air that felt in every respect like the push of water, knocking you backward.

Something in that rush grasped onto you, something hard.

You felt your head slam against the walls. You had no idea how far it had pushed you, but you could no longer see the platform of light. Around your midsection, a hard, crystalline claw grasped you tightly.

More crystalline projections seemed to form out of the creatures body in various shapes and sizes. Some were even recognizable as some odd form of optics. Others seemed to measure, or scan you with long, feathery whiskers. Others tapped at your armored surface.

You roared as one jabbed hard into a fleshy area on your abdomen.

"Phalanx, TERRORIZE!!!!"

A jolt of energy coursed down through the claw that held you, shorting out several of your circuits and disrupting your transformation.

A chattering, grinding noise scraped across your consciousness. You vaguely registered it as some kind of language.

"Who are you?!"

The chattering continued unabated. From inside of the creature, a soft bluish glow illuminated your surroundings. You were pinned against a gray wall, made of the same material as the building and the column. But here, there were minute etchings across its surface.

You snaked toward the creature with your head, snapping down on the crystalline-claw arm with your jaws.

Another jolt of energy shot through you, eliciting another roar of frustration.

The chattering suddenly resolved into intelligible words.

"Subject of unknown origin. Technological and biological matrices in active contention within. Elements of present technology also identified."

"Great, so you're saying you don't know what I am either!?"

"Suggestion? Dissect and catalogue."

"WHOA!!" You reach down with your jaws again, snapping into the armature, and this time grasping and ripping several shards off if it. The creatures arm released for a second, and you slipped free, falling away into the darkness below.

"PHALANX, TERRORIZE!!!!"

?????????????

With a haze of smoke that billowed off in dark colored bubbles, your dragon form tucked and twisted until you were transformed into a fully operation, and battle ready Cybertronian.

You had slipped away from the crystalline creature, who now seemed to hesitate, unsure if it was truly worth chasing this new threat, or possibly unsure of why it now faced a humanoid instead of the snakelike reptile.

You tucked down and fired off your thrusts, propelling yourself into the dark depths below.

Desperately you stare at the ruined covered walls, trying to keep sight of them as you plummeted down into the inky darkness.

Within segments, however, all lights had faded again, and you were in an impenetrable cloak of darkness.

You pulled yourself to a standstill, thrusting your arms out, as if truly in a liquid, to balance yourself upright.

There was silence except for an odd bubbling from your frame as the mysterious smoke emanated from your joints.

You reached back nervously, automatically pulling two sharp blades from where your wings were stored in your robot modes protective jet packs.

Something gently brushed across your leg in that darkness, something smooth and flowing... something with indeterminable size and heft. Nothing more than a brush, yet chills shot through your circuits.

You didn't belong here.

You reach out for the wall, where it should be, but nothing tested your touch. Pushing forward in the darkness, you searched vainly for the walls that must be near. Your hand touched something, and for a segment you thought you had found your target, but the surface billowed and rushed away, with a heavy rush of pressure, as if a large creature was startled at the touch.

That was it, you activated your jets and bolted upward, searching for light, any light, even that of the strange creature...

Cycle upon cycle you thrust upward, but nothing became illumed, surely you had passed your start point, surely the room was already below you!!

Then, a soft, filtering light swarmed up around you. A gently, imploring light that swelled and shifted, illuminating the air around you. Thick swirls of gases seemed lit from a phosphorous light that emanated a suffocating warmth.

"Computer, analyze. Is it still just air?"

--Negative, gaseous components appear to have quasi-plasma elements. Common atmospheric tendencies do not apply. Possible analysis suggests a cloud of nebulae thickness.--

"Fascinating..."

The nebula-like cloud seemed to shift and swell around you. Looking down, you saw a sight far below that stunned you. Thousands upon thousands of shapes became distinct below you, long, short, huge, and minute forms, all moving in a pattern suggestive of a school of fish. But some of these 'fish' must have spanned hundreds, maybe thousands of kilometers.

All around you, everything was becoming more and more distinct. Spots of sharp light seemed illuminated all around you, above, below, everywhere.

Staring out at them, your internal systems analyzed and categorized them quickly. The radiance and wave band of each suggested something that you could not begin to understand.

They were stars.

You are in space.

Below you, far away floated a dark school of spaceborn creatures. No planets were within view or scanning distance. The gas around you was indeed a nebulae, or something of that nature, perhaps even something within which the creatures were living within.

You look back down, and notice something different. From the interweaving group of life, something had detached, floating no longer with the cluster of smooth creatures, but rather toward you, and at alarming speed.

As it neared, you could make out a large, tentacled creature. Long and sinewy, with heavy armored plates its tentacled arms were stretched out and sparked with an unknown energy.

It was nearly a hundred times your size.

It paused in its course, tentacles suddenly flaring out revealing a crystalline globe that shimmered in the hazy cloud. The energy that crackled across the creatures tentacles arced inward, collecting in that globe. Instantly, a wash of radiance blasted forth, etching your optics in a fiery corona of pain.

You winced as searing waves of energy swallowed you, burning your frame and circuits in a tide of pure, plasma based power.

Then something changed.

The power no longer flowed around you, no longer threatened to rip you apart and melt your components in its painful wash.

Now, it charged into you, filling you with a maddening energy.

You transformed into a dragon, no longer veiled in shadows, rather, every translucent part of your body was alight with blinding radiance, every shadowy plate was etched in a silver corona.

You lurched forward in a frenzied attack, straight into the heart of the massive tentacled horror.

Your jaws ached as they issued forth blast upon blast of searing plasma energy, your claws swept through slicing into thick, rubbery skin that twitched and batted at you with a lighting speed not belying its great form.

The fight lasted cycle upon cycle, stretching into megacycles of violent combat.

Titanic energies were released and delivered to each.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was finished.

Your armor was damaged, ripped, and shredded. True smoke billowed out, mixing with the globules of oils and mech fluids that floated off into space. The maddening energy had drained almost all of your reserves, and left you barely active.

But you had not stood down.

The creature floated before you, alive, but defeated.

Panting, heaving you stared at the monster. You watched it carefully as an odd armor plate began to slide back on thick muscle cords, revealing a cavernous opening, dry and lit with what almost assumed the pattern of running lights. From the forefront of the creature, massive lines of eyespots stared at you passively, a wave of resignation seemed to wash over your CPU, and a soft, simple phrase emanated from the creature...

--Master, welcome.--

Space: A nebulae: A... ship?

You stare at the opening below you. Wonderment mixed with fatigue and an ever present pain to shroud the scene in an ethereal haze of unreality.

Only one thing was for certain. Your systems are critical, and without assistance, it would only be a few cycles before you went offline.

With that in mind, you snap open the casings on your back, revealing the sharp blades of your metallic wings. They, at least, were relatively undamaged. So, you used them to maneuver closer and into the maw of the unknown.

Once inside, the opening shifted and closed, leaving you in a dry tunnel that was covered with a chitinous material. Near the upper areas of the rounded 'cave' tunnel, were bulbulous clusters that radiated softly colored light. Slowly they altered and shifted color, adding to the unreal atmosphere that threatened to suffocate you.

Slowly, however, you became aware of a vague pattern in the colors... almost that of running lights.

You begin to stagger forward, using the walls for support...

The short journey was indeed a strange one, and how much was real... you couldn't be certain. Spots and glitches from your own CPU and optic systems mixed with the phantasmal lights to invent images of floating lights, throbbing walls, pulsing darkness... tentacles that waved as if in water... music and voices that echoed from the air and walls...

Past darkened tunnels you stumbled, until finally, a showering wall of electricity crackled in front of you

Hesitantly, you reached forward. The electricity arced around your hand and arm. It tingled, but didn't seem to cause and serious pain or damage.

You lurch forward and out into a vista of light and darkness. Strands of tenuous bio-matter and muscle stretched out toward a massive bulk in the center of a great, immense chamber.

The bulk was made of a thick, blue-gray matter, and hazy clouds and storms of electricity crashed around its surface.

You stepped out onto a thick tendon that led from the tunnel directly to that bulk.

As you near it, you can make out an opening of sorts. Reaching it, you step inside to find a cleared area, about four times your size. You stood in the area nonplussed.

A glitch jerks your systems, and you stagger back, resting against a soft mound and indention in the walls.

It made a rather nice seat. You leaned back to relax, a soft gushing noise from the spongy material surrounding you.

You opened your optics and glanced down... and to your shock you realized that the material now coated your arms up to the elbows...

You began to struggle, but another shocking jolt from your injured systems forced you to stop.

You became aware of the sponge-like material leeching over your body in veins of various thickness... and then became uncomfortably aware of several of them reaching into your very body!

Systems began to shut down, and briefly you wondered if this was how it would end.

But then, a new energy feed began. And you found your eyes clearing of the static and blurriness that had been causing problems since the fight.

Then, the walls of the bio-sponged room seemed to quiver, and electricity arced across the bumpy, gray surface.

As the energy receded, the walls disappeared, and the swirling depths of space took their place!

For a moment you felt a sense of vertigo as the vastness of space surrounded you, the interior entirely disappearing from view!

You mentally shake yourself off, immediately realizing that this apparently was what the beast itself was seeing. Not sure of the extent of this, you decided to investigate further.

"Creature. What is your name?"

--Name?--

"What do I call you."

--Whatever you decide.--

"Ok, then you will be called Nimrod from here on out."

You remembered some ancient myth about a hunter of the same name. You had read about it in some archive a long time ago.

"Ok, Nimrod, what exactly are you?"

--I am Xtizliklitchenticclssxcatzeilron.--

"Ooooook. Let's try something else. Am I right in assuming you can operate as some sort of craft?"

--We were made by the ancients as their choice of travel.--

--Good, then perhaps they gave them some kind of mapping system...--

At that thought, the stars seemed to zoom out, into the great distance, and the spiral arms of a galaxy became apparent. Quickly it began to become segmented in soft green lines, creating a grid pattern in three dimensions. Cybertronian writing began to scroll across the image, signifying names and coordinates as you looked around.

"How did you know..."

--You are in communion. Your thoughts are my thoughts.--

"Ok, then try this, locate Cybertron."

The stars revolved and shifted, zooming off far to the side, past the galaxies boundaries. As it backed out, you became aware of an odd double-spiral effect of the galaxy in which you apparently were in. The screen continued to zoom at incredible speeds, until a familiar spiral armed picture of the milky way resolved in your view.

"We're in another galaxy?!"

--Yes.--

"Dare I ask how long it will take to get us there?"

--One year.--

"One year?! That's impossible... the distance..."

--The distance is negligible. The process will be managed by the deep transwarp drives systems. You will not be aware of the time passage.--

One year for a trip that should take eons!!

"Well then... let's get moving!"

--Prepare for stasis. Your systems will be operable when we reach your home.--

"Hey, best not appear too close. Let's stay outside a few parsecs to make sure everything is safe for our return."

--By your command.--

--Stasis lock commencing.--

Space: The Nimrod

--Systems Active.--

And were they active. A glittering red glow from your optics lit the interior of the brain shell around you. The interior flickered and changed to once again show you the vista of space. A small area changed to show a schematic of your new body. Statistical data flashed and pointed around the body showing the details of your new frame. It was impressive, you sacrificed a small amount of speed, but your endurance was fantastic. And firepower was off the scale!

You leaned back, "Nimrod." something about talking it to you mentally still didn't sit well with you.

--Yes.--

"Have we achieved real space yet?"

--Real space in one cycle.--

"Find an asteroid or unmanned planetoid to hide behind. We need to work up what's going on back home."

--Yes.--

The screen shifts to an odd blue-white blur of movement. Something tells you that you were seeing what the creature saw.

"Tell me, can you receive standard signals?"

--Yes.--

"Then when we drop out I want to catalogue and order all signals coming to and from that planet. I want some intelligence on what's going on down there. Take it all in, even encrypted code."

--Yes.--

The blue-white blur smeared into real space...

The stars glittered around you, and the brightness of a nearby star glittered from off to your left and down some. You thrill as you feel Nimrods body pull and shift through odd currents... currents that shouldn't be found in space. The feeling was very much lie flying, but the squids body was soft and nubile and floated smoothly through the currents.

Immediately a large rock rose over the horizon, a chunk buried in a long belt of asteroids that floated in far orbit around the distant star.

You feel Nimrod's muscles bunch up and push forward in a sudden dive toward the large rock, you flinch as he pounded into the surface and began digging down into the rock's interior.

It's jaws were working, loosening chucks of rock, while smaller tentacles scrabbled to push it aside... The feeling was incredibly strange...

You shake yourself, "Nimrod, the signals."

The squid-ship settled down into the crevasse it had made. Immediately you were back in the depths of space, now, you were near a small system. Cybertron became highlighted in green where it was floating, just outside of the orbital arc of the star. Your own position was highlighted in red. You were not too far away.

A list began to appear of transmissions that were being picked up, it was rapidly growing into the thousands.

You sat back as Nimrod worked on it, "Tell me, Nimrod, who are these, 'ancients?'"

A series of images of powers far beyond your understanding seemed to flash. You couldn't even comprehend what you were seeing.

--The ancients were.--

"Right..." you shook your head, "Who were they... just a word based description."

--They were creatures of immense power and span of space and time. They built the school to spawn ships to carry them to the edges of the universe.--

"Where were they from?"

--Deep within the very center of all. The place no longer exists. Neither do they.--

"But if they were that powerful, how did they disappear?"

--Corruption. There minds were unstructured and highly... the closest thing your mind can correlate is, emotional.--

"Emotional?"

--The thought does not quite match the reality.--

"Ok, so they wiped themselves out?"

--We aren't even sure. The herds lost all contact with them, and have roamed freely for eons.--

"Eons? Then it's not likely they who rebuilt me."

--No, your rebuild approximates a style of energy that is cataloged, however.--

"Cataloged?"

--We passed through a system with that energy and were studied while we recorded data on a... race? that lived there.--

"Why were you confused there?"

--They were many, but still one. They referred to themselves as the Vok. They were very powerful, and nearly omniscient.--

"Why would they rebuild me?"

--I do not know, but the energy fluctuations that infused your frame did match the energy that they gave off.--

You start to look at the different listings for the transmissions, picking out several news related items.

As you scanned through them, you found that Cybertron had undergone a few changes.

"So," you continued absentmindedly as you read, "How did the battle between us come to be?"

--You were judged to be a fair match to my own capabilities. Therefore I was chosen for the challenge. It was the way that we were taught to allow submission.--

"So you were one of the more powerful of the school?"

--Actually, I am very young, most of my powers will not develop without experience and time.--

"There were others..."

--More powerful? Yes, there were those that could travel between the very dimensions, and channel the power of entire galaxies through their bodies.--

You sigh, turning your attention more toward what you were reading.

Cybertron had somehow fallen under the control of the Decepticons. OF course, this was moreso strange because all the Decepticons had been hunted down and destroyed a century or so before you had even gone offline. This was apparently a recent happening, and involved a massive battlestation called the Warworld. The Decepticons were now allowing traffic to and from Cybertron, but were apparently keeping strict control over it. There was no details on any resistance to them whatsoever. It was almost like the planet had just turned over on its belly and let the throwback's dig in!

There capital was Cybertropolis, the largest city below. When you had left, Iacon, which was in the center of Cybertropolis, had been the capital. But it seems that Iacon was the primary target for the Decepticons attack.

Now, the Decepticons controlled a police force over that city, and were slowly spreading their police to the ends of the planet.

You also picked up on some news transmissions that were a bit older. Nimrod had highlighted these, and as you opened you found information on what was called 'the Transmetal Wave'. Nimrod noted that it had the same energy signature that your own body frame had. Also, it appeared to have some Transwarp energies mixed in. It apparently randomly effected some Cybertronians, rebuilding them with new technology called Transmetal tech. The scientist have also worked on fusing this tech with their own technologies, coming up with what is recorded as Transmetal II's.

You sit back, absorbing all of this.

"Nimrod, can you take on this Warworld?"

--The Warworld registers from here with immense power readings. I do not know that I can win a direct fight.--

--Interesting...--

You sit back to consider what you have learned.

An asteroid field in the general vicinity of Cybertron

"Decepticons and the Warworld. I could swear that they were outlawed. It appears that the idealists behind the Pax Cybertronia screwed up pretty good then, eh? Allowing the Decepticons to amass and remake the Warworld! Nimrod, are there any pictures available. I wanna see what this thing looks like. I've only heard of the Warworld, never saw what it actually looked like."

Instantly a screenlike panel appeared, floating in the middle of space. On it played a news clip.

The orange ship looked something like a massive sea urchin. It bore a large bluish 'window' or panel of crystal on front, possibly it was even a reflector for a weapon of some sort, with the Decepticon sigil emblazoned on the front. The image was shaky, the camera obviously being rocked by explosions as it sought to escape the deadly curtain of firepower that the Warworld was laying down. Above the sigil-window, there was a massive horn, protruding from the ship's crest.

You're spark stopped at the sight of it.

Instantly, the screen froze and zoomed in, Nimrod clarifying the signal as best as possible.

There was no doubt about the horn. It was burned into every Cybertronians memory. A symbol of chaos and death.

It was Unicron's horn.

It sat as though some macabre hood ornament on the otherwise Cybertronian built ship.

--The presence of this artifact may correlate with some strange energy readings I have sensed from the Warworld.--

"Strange energy readings?" you tore your eyes from the floating planetoid.

--The Warworld itself is gaining power. Very slowly, but it is definitely gaining power.--

You shake your head in disbelief. As if it wasn't enough that these throwback Decepticons had resurged in your absence, now there was a gestating monstrosity under their control.

"Nimrod, start scanning Cybertron's surface for troop movements. See if you can make out exactly what's going on down on the surface."

--It will take some cycles--

You snort, "Anything less than three days would be amazing... Also, do this, scan Cybertron's main computers. Can you find any reference to these 'Vok'?"

There was a pause while the ship accessed the distant computers.

--Negative.--

You sigh and sit back, awaiting the report. As you did so your mind wandered to this massive creature-ship you sat in.

"Nimrod, what do you know about Cybertronian life... of my kind?"

--I only know what I gleaned from your own construction and what I can see down below. I can, however upload the general specifications from Cybertron's computers.--

"No, that won't be necessary, but how did you know how to fix me?"

--Your construction is different from Cybertronian life. As I said before, it is infused with an alien technology that lends itself to easy repairs. I merely accessed your own internal automatic repairs and asked them what to do.--

"Hrm... do you know any distinct weaknesses in Cybertronian life?"

--The ability to repair them from almost nothing makes them a very formidable opponent in the long run. They also have a high power threshold, as displayed by our fight. In fact the greatest weakness seems to lie in energon usage and displacement, including that of the article your computers described as your spark.--

"Hrmmm..."

You sit back again, lost in thought.

Thirty cycles or so pass, until your morass of thoughts was disrupted by Nimrod.

--Troop movements are minimal. The only listed such movements could be attributed to orbital ships and a ground force inside the city called Cybertropolis.--

"What's going on in orbit?"

--General orbital and suborbital ships moving in patrol fashion, all of Decepticon signature, in a fairly tight net that works in conjunction with planetary defense satellites.--

"Ok, what about this police force?"

--Ground troops in an extremely complex pattern police the streets and higher underwarrens of that city. They are heavily armed and armored... and all identical to three different styled legions.--

"What? Explain..."

--There is a scout type, an air type, and a tank type. Also, I believe that they are operating via some kind of control process emanating from the Warworld.--

"A signal?"

--Negative. This is on a wavelength undetectable by your modern technology. It is more... telepathic than anything else.--

An Asteroid: Nimrod

You sit back, considering the amounts of data transmissions floating about Cybertron.

"Nimrod. Let's take a little trip."

--By your command.--

"Find me some local starports. I want planets that have had regular shipping with Cybertron, say for at least fifty years."

Immediately, amidst the floating stars around you, there appeared several view images. Three were planets, four were Stardocks. Information about each appeared as you looked at them, scrolling around and denoting important features such as population, government, management, racial mix...

All of the ports had cut shipping to and from Cybertron as soon as the Warworld appeared.

But one had recently reopened them... One very desperate outpost.

The scans were rough, the planet though was familiar.

Charr.

"Nimrod, leave orbit and head to Charr."

You sit back and contemplate the hellhole.

Charr had once been the staging grounds for the Decepticon Empire, during perhaps one of the saddest points of history of that foolish Empire's reign.

A mad leader had taken over and lost control of Cybertron. He was forced to relocate his forces to Charr, sending them in retreat before the onslaught of the Autobot forces.

Charr was volcanic. Hot, desolate, uninhabited.

That was then. Centuries later it was still hot, but now, both above and far below ground, there was a vast and crammed city that covered every useable surface of the planet. The planet had become an industrial nightmare, and its shipyards were renowned as the scum collection point for most of the galaxy.

Just the kind of place to start a pirate empire.

Char: Deadend

From a high altitude, you had Nimrod scan the surface for police installations, and then chose the largest to set down near. You figured that at least that way, you'd have to deal with minimal crime rates while you were attempting to recruit.

Then it was a matter of choosing a nearby docking port. Apparently, there were a slew of them. A large citywide port was a few kilometers from there, but there were literally hundreds of 'garages' that were equipped enough to handle ships even larger than Nimrod!

You chose one less than a quarter kilometer from the police station.

As you descend from the skies and past the various lanes of traffic that shot too and fro across the outer orbits of the red planet, you feel spine like ridges raise up on the hull of Nimrod, as if they were rising on your own body, and sail-fins extend to catch into the heavy warm atmosphere. You feel the warm heat of the friction as you drop out of orbit and dip past the hazy, thick, black clouds of the planet.

Immediately, a sharp taint of a metallic tasting dust clotted your gills... or Nimrod's gills, whatever.

You climb down through an enormous inner port toward the underground warrens. Its towering walls filled with lights and hints of movement, possibly of cheap housing that lined the thruster-like port. You made your way toward a 'city' area designated as Deadend. You were surprised that they even bothered designating cities! As far as you could tell, there was no visible break in construction or population across the arid, dirty surfaces... above or below ground!

The garage you had chosen was greenish gay, giving it an odd garish look amidst the reddish haze or dust that permanently covered the rest of the undergrounds.

It's surface slid open as you gave the command code. You were happy to find that somehow, your old credit lines had not been erased, which enabled you to procure this roost without any hassle.

Your... Nimrod's tentacles flickered around the entry port as it lowered itself in, drawing the wide wing-fins inward and back under it's armor plating.

Softly, the thick bulk lowered itself to the ground without a noise.

Automatic inquiries came across for refueling and repair requests. You quickly declined them before any armatures tried to link themselves to the organic surface of Nimrod.

"Nimrod, how do I communicate with you while I am gone."

--For short distances, we can maintain a telepathic link.--

"How short is short?"

--Roughly one kilometer--

"Not far enough. Can we rig a communications device of some sort?"

--What about your commlink?--

"I want something secure."

--It will take one megacycle to produce.--

"Very well, while I'm waiting can you lock into the Police Computers and access their records?"

-- Some of them are secure, it will take some time to decode. I can, however, get you general warrant listings and prior rap sheets.--

"That's enough. Filter it through and show me."

A few million names began to scroll past.

You rub your eyes, "Filter! Filter! I just want locals, and those that aren't currently incarcerated."

The list narrowed to a few hundred.

You sigh, "Edit out minor crimes, or power hungry ones. I just want ones based off of monetary gains."

The list narrowed marginally. Now only a hundred or so remained.

"Do we have psyche profiles?"

--Classified.--

"Begin de-encrypment on those."

--It will take two solar cycles.--

"Pitt..."

You begin the laborious task of going through the remaining ones by hand.

Within a few megacycles, you had narrowed it down sizably to a list of smugglers, bounty hunters, mercenaries....

--My kind of scum.--

You chose one that looked like he may be easy to find. A rouge alien by the name of Treadshot. His picture made him out to be a tri-ped with mauve skin and two rows of eyelets around his head. He was suspected to be a rather popular, 'gun for hire,' but had a habit of mysteriously 'slipping out of trouble' with the law.

"Nimrod. Is the communication's device ready?"

--It is.--

Out from the thick tendrils of the brain rises a 'muscle platform.' In the center sits a squat, brownish 'beetle.'

"Cute... it will keep a secure line to you?"

--Yes. Merely attach it to your structure and it will begin a link.--

You hold out a hand to pick it up, but the small creature quickly scuttled onto you arm and buried itself under a metal plate.

"Charming." You gave a shiver.

Treadshot usually hung out at bar not too far from here. Seemed to make him terribly easy to find, but then, it was at least a start from here.

You stand, "I'm heading out to do some footwork. Uhmm..... keep your... bays doors locked... or something."

--Affirmative.--

Charr: Deadend

You nod, palming the datacrystal and storing it away in your chest. Standing, you turn back out to the bar crowd and dive into the foray. As you leave the bar, you scan the crystal for infectious virus' or other dangers. As you step out into the street, your systems clear the small shard for scanning. Quickly you look at the data. It only contains a set of coordinates and a time.

You prepare to leave when a thick hand sets down on your shoulder, "Hey, you push, I shove!" you feel your shoulder yank back and then are shoved forward, easily recovering yourself before you ended up in an embarrassing sprawl.

Turning you find a wide set creature with a vaguely humanoid appearance. Red dust crusted the creases in his heavy hide, which was already a dark russet color to begin with. A wide mouthed grin showed several yellowed, graying teeth. His three optics glared at you with a dull ashen look of stupidity.

A hot gust of wind blew across the street.

"You push me. You smashed soon."

--I see I'm dealing with an intellectual master.--

The large creature raised both arms to strike, but you were too quick, grasping him by the throat you slam the creature into the wall, "Give me a good reason not to end your existence."

He seemed surprised but not hurt. His thick hands grasped your arms and wrenched them free of his throat with a heavy jerk. The skin was textured oddly, and thick, so that your claws didn't hold their grasp very well.

Still, you were strong enough to keep him from trying to rip your arms out of their sockets.

You hear some snorts from behind... some bar patrons were obviously finding amusement at the tussle.

Battle systems switched on, and you felt something odd shifting within you.

The creature jerks back in surprise, rubbing his hands where he had formerly grasped your arms. You could see trails of some kind of vapor rising from them, similar to the smoke that emits from your own frame.

The creature looked at you, enraged with some kind of pain. He outstretches and arm and you see a gun slide into place from a mechanical arm holster.

He fired a loud blast, which you dodged in a fluff of smoke, coming around to his side and reaching behind for your own weapon.

Then another blast nailed the creature in the arm, sending smoke and sparks from the unit and causing him to roar in pain.

"That's enough, Borodalkt. Games over, go back to your scum hole!" A voice rang clearly. You paused where you were, not yet with weapon in hand.

The creature roared and shifted the weapon, to fire at the newcomer.

Your gun-blade was out and slicing across his midsection, even as the damaged weapon holster exploded, taking most of his arm with it. A shower of debris and charred flesh splattered across your back as a thick orangish goop spilled from the deep cut in his midsection. The creature shuddered and fell to the ground as you ducked out of his way.

"Well." came the other voice, "That was awfully violent."

You stood , feeling the flesh bits turn crisp and then ashen on your body.

--I'll have to look into that later.--

A robot that stood about the same height as you stood about a hundred meters away, and was walking down the street, gun still in hand. He was red and blue, and Cybertronian. In fact, it looked like he was a Cybertron. The ancient red sigil glittered dully on his shoulders.

"I merely wished to make sure that he..."

"Yeah, save it. You couldn't have know I disabled his unit. There's no fault here, just another dead alien." He leaned over and hoisted the monster onto it's back. Most of it's face had been sliced up from the blast, bits of orangish goo dribbling down and thick bone poking through.

"You're with the police forces?"

"Eh?" the robot looked up from the corpse, "Yeah, names Pointblank."

"Nice shot."

"Yeah, that's what they pay me for." he looks up, "And you are."

A momentary inner debate decided not to draw any more attention to yourself, and denying an answer may do just that, "Phalanx. Just passing though on my way to Cybertron."

He nods, no doubt making a mental note, "Well, this creeps been blasting up offworlders by the score, so I've been keeping a tab on him."

You look back at the large crater his first shot at you had left. No doubt he could have done some serious damage had he not been quite so slow.

"He wouldn't have survived for long."

The Cybertron stood, "Hrm. Predacon through and through I see."

You sneer, "Survival of the fittest."

The robot shrugged, "Just stay clear of any more 'hunts' while your here. Ok?"

You nod, "Didn't look for this one."

The sounds of sirens come around the corner as a cleanup crew comes near.

As Pointblank turns to deal with giving the drones orders, you decide it would be a good time to make your exit.

Scouting out the coordinate, you find it was a warehouse in a dark part of this city of Deadend. There were several factories nearby that pumped out thick clouds of toxic smokes, and not much could live here for very long.

Even your systems were scrambling to filter out the poisonous elements as they burned against your skin. There was a constant hissing as the acrid atmosphere mixed with the vapors around your body.

--Nice place. Limited visibility, nothing living... and my systems will be hogged by autorepair working to fight the acids!--

You wonder how even the small creature could survive in these conditions. You checked the chrono and found that there was very little time left before the meeting. You had hoped to take a look through the list of possible recruits, but Treadshot had placed this joint well. Probably guessing that it would take you this long to get here. No time to set up a trap, no time to recruit help. If the fight outside the bar hadn't held you up, you might have made it in time to set yourself up a little...

"So, I see I underestimated your speed?"

Came a voice from the smoke.

You spin to look around, but picked up no signals, "Where are you?"

"The fight outside the bar was careless, meeting Pointblank was even more careless. But then, you did the right thing, telling him your name and making no pretenses to civility. That would have et off his warning sensors as sure as if you leveled a gun at his head..."

The warehouse caused an echo that made pinpointing the voice's source very difficult.

"This seems to be a change from sitting out in the center of a public bar, playing with whores while waiting for clients to show up."

Laughter echoes from around the room, "Yes, well, one should always put a good face forward. Meanwhile, I've found that you should be long since deceased! Certainly you bear little resemblance to Phalanx, the Predacon pirate of nearly a century past."

You shrug, "I'm going through... changes."

"For the better, no doubt... I've seen that monster you have docked..."

"That's why I've contacted you. I want a new crew."

"So you've chosen small fleshies?"

"I've chosen those who have proven themselves... adept at avoiding complications."

You hear footsteps and turn. From the hazy darkness steps a large frame... a Cybertronian!

He was a ground based transformer, you think. Black frame, with a bulbous red optical visor.

"Who the pit...?!"

The robot extended his hand, "Names... Treadshot."

Charr: Deadend

You look at the black bot, and at the extended hand for segments before responding. Then, when it was clear that you did not trust him, or his methods of introduction, you accepted the proffered hand, "How would you like to make some money, Treadshot?"

The red optic sparkled, "What did you have in mind, Phalanx?"

You nod, "You already know my history, it seems..."

"Piratry?"

"More than that... As you know, the Warworld hovers above our homeplanet, and with it comes a wave of fear and unease... The people must feel unbalanced as the powers on Cybertron shift, as times change to alter their position on what is right and wrong... what better time to introduce a new aspect of life."

"A new aspect?"

"A new empire... a new ruling force, that comes from the shadows, and reaches into all aspects of Cybertronian life. I propose that we start this new empire..."

"And you think you have the ability to do it? There's an army of drones controlling Cybertropolis, and soon they'll spread to the other cities as well... The people are hyper aware, lest Clench bring down the wrath of the Decepticon army on them..."

"All the more reason for us to sieze control... surely there is a resistance in place already?"

His optic glitters, "Perhaps... but they would not convert to a shadow empire..."

"Are you certain... the threat of Unicron can make strange allies..."

He crosses his arms, "Interesting... definitely interesting... and this ship of yours... do you plan to use it as a war cruiser?"

"Ours will not be the way of battle, rather we shall be the threat that will wreak vengeance on those that do not pay us homage."

"I can tell you this, there are rumors of the return of the Cybertronian Armadas... what would that do to your plans..."

"It will be we who decide who wins this conflict. We will crew ourselves with the best assassins, thieves, rogues... we shall turn the shadows of Cybertron into living zones of carnage."

He nods, "I think your plan has merit... and it beats wasting our time here on this dustball... Also, I know others that may be... interested in this proposal."

"I have a list of other..."

"Toss the list. My organization will be what you want. We have already considered an organization as you propose, they will be interested in a 'partnership.'"

You nod.

"We have a way to get to Cybertron... a way past the defenses. Our leader will be willing to strike a deal, in exchange for you supplying us with the means to return those stranded here to Cybertron."

"Sounds like a start."

"Return to your ship. We will contact you there..."

Soon, you had returned to the ship. You scanned the list. It was large, but the number of Cybertronians on it were few.

--So, who will I be giving a ride too... and what is their purpose...--

You pondered this new 'proposal,' wondering what you may gain from it.

--There is another outside.--

"What?"

--There is another Cybertronian outside my hull.--

"Show me."

The brain matter faded, revealing the docking bay around you, there, in plain sight was a red Destron. He stood, arms folded behind his back, waiting.

"I'll meet him." you leave the bridge and head for the access doors.

Outside the robot was still standing. He watched carefully, but without any notion of surprise of fear as you swept out of Nimrods docking bay in a veil of shadowy smoke.

You land in front of him in dragon mode, tail swishing menacingly as you kept your head low to the ground, "Who are you?"

"My name is unimportant. Suffice it to say that I am the one you have need to talk to."

You look around...

"We are quite safe. I have deadened this zone from any interference. Treadshot has told me of your plan, and it does indeed interest me and my... associates. I wish to extend the offer that he has mentioned. A partnership with our organization in exchange for the services of your ship...."

Charr: Deadend

You look at the other bot, "As long as you remember that it is my ship. It goes where I say it goes, when I say. I will not tolerate mutiny here."

Calcar's eyes flashed in amusement, "I am not a leader of rebels, merely busnessmen. You hold your part of the deal, and we shall keep ours."

"I will offer the services of myself and my ship then, for a partnership."

"Very well. We must await the arrival of a key that will allow us to pass unatested once we reach Cybertron. The bot in charge of acquiring this key should be in contact with us before nightfall. Once we have that key, it would behoove us to leave immediately."

"What key are you speaking about?"

"It is the codes to the orbitting sattelites, the current codes."

"The defense sattelites?"

"Yes, with their help we can pass through and land without incident."

"And how many will be accompanying us?"

"Myself and five others. That comprises the entire compliment of non-Maximal or non-Cybertron Cybertronians on this dustball. Once we return to the planet, we can see about supplimenting you with a more permanent crew, and a more permanent network."

"What about Treadshot's fleshy partner?"

"Him... he will be dead by this afternoon. As soon as the word is set that we are to leave. We will have no use of organics where we will be going."

With that you went your seperate ways. Calcar transformed into vehicle mode and left via a side street, and you returned to Nimrod.

--How do you handle internal emergencies?--

--Emergencies?--

"Yeah emergencies..." you slip back into vocal mode.

--I mean what do you do if there is a foreign intruder within your systems.--

--I have bio-immune systems that can flush out any unwanted rubbish.--

--Bio-immune? Explain.--

In lieu of explanation, your mind buzzez with the instantaneous knowledge of what the systems were. There were a multitude of defenses available, from an antibody system that consisted of acidic or electrical weapons, to full scale plasma flushes of certain areas of the body.

--Impressive. We're having company, I want you to be sure that your personal vital systems are non-accesible.--

--Easily accomplished.--

--Good. It looks like we'll be returning to Cybertron earlier than I thought. They have a code that can control the defense net, or so they say. If so, I want you to set in several... directives as we pass the net...--

After your instructions were completed, you had Nimrod set to 'crew quarters.' Apparently there were sack like organs that were clear and dry, available for setup as rooms, they rested underneath some outer scales, and had clear walls to display space beyond them. All in all they could be made to look rather comfortable. He also informed you that by reading the crewmember's mind, he would be able to create a pseudo-real illusion of what they wished to see!

You marked this away for future reference, giving Nimrod a set of specifications for a more generic, yet comfortable look that the Cybertronians should accept.

--Let them believe the rooms are static. We may need those illusionary abilities at a later date.--

Several megacycles later, your boarding crew arrived.

Seven of them.

"You said there would be six of you." your eyes narrowed.

Beside Calcar, there was the black Treadshot, a large blue and white robot with a small black-metallic cat on his shoulder, a green black and purple robot with a golden faceplate, a thickly built red and white robot, and a blue and yellow jet bot.

Calcar looked annoyed, "Yes, but in the process of acquiring our 'key,' our good friend Axer was captured, and then freed by this Predacon." He motions to the tiny, cat-like Cybertronian that sat on a larger blue and white robot's shoulder. "These others are Axer," the blue and white, "Banzai Tron," the black and purple, "Airwave," the red and white, "and Afterburner." the jet, "The cat's name is apparently Prisma Nova, and she wants to go with us."

"You don't know her, then kill her."

"Wait!" she interrupts, "You can't... I've got the codes you need... consider it my... application to your little group of friends."

The Predacon smiles

Charr: Deadend

You look grimly at the Predacon, "Have you checked her background."

"Of course. It was fairly turbulent, but she's relatively new to the planet." Calcar replies.

"Since she wasn't part of the original plan, if I notice her doing anything suspicious she will be ejected from the ship." You turn and move into the bay of the Nimrod.

Through the tunnels of Nimrod you took them. Keenly aware of the sensations they were undergoing. Nimrod was a very alien ship, and you were inside of a living body. The light shifted constantly, altering it's colors and hues, and sending shadows bounding about. You knew they would have the same uneasy feeling that you had when you first came, before you understood. The feeling that there was something moving, just beyond your range of vision... or perhaps your range of awareness.

You took them through the hallways, past floating orbs that moved through the air, on some predetermined mission, perhaps of biological nature... past sections that were covered with tentacles and feathery feelers, that reached away as you approached... past side tunnels that sloped alarmingly off, with the sounds of running water echoing from somewhere in the shadows. All the while, the soft music of Nimrod echoed in the back of you mind. A soft chanting, or singing... some kind of strange music that seemed to float through the air wherever you were inside the massive beast.

You showed them to their rooms, explaining that they should be cautious of where they wander, ""But you may wish to be careful, Nimrod will show you if you are somewhere you do not belong." you smiled with a fang filled grin.

Then you left them to their devices and returned to Nimrod's brain center.

"Nimrod, can you get into the records of the Police Forces yet?"

--Affirmative.--

"Then I want to know about this 'Prisma Nova.' Also, erase whatever information there is on us... and on the other members of this 'crew.' Then, prepare for immediate take off."

You leaned back into your 'brain' throne. Watching as the walls of the pinkish bio-matter dissolved into the display of the outer world. Data on Prisma Nova appeared. Petty thief, run ins with the police, usually ended up 'disappearing.' A lot of angst ridden reports by Point Blank, the police chief. She had only arrived a month ago, no doubt attempting to return to Cybertron. She also had a large off-world record as well.

You call up checks on all of the crew... finding similar background on each... except for Calcar, of which there was nothing.

"Hrm... delete all records and let's get going."

You see each of the records disappear, they wouldn't be gone from all of space, but at least on this world, their crimes would exist no more.

As Nimrod lifts out of the hangar, you tell him your plans for the Defense Net.

    "Make it so this ship is filtered out of any scans. And don't record the scans. Basically, it's a moving blindspot with the scanners, but it won't show up as such. It just omits the data about the ship.
    Second, much like you can be "controlled" in "VR" environ, the defense net must interface in the same system, allowing complete and total control over the entire net at once. And since this if filtered through you, you can help control, and make sure I don't get overloaded with sensor data. There, the net can be shut down, in whole or in part, and directed to fire at one place or another.
    Third, the tampering shouldn't show."

--The full list of control should be ready and established within fifteen cycles of entering Cybertronian airspace.--

Nimrod

As you sit, watching the data from the crystal flash by, a communication from the Predacon, Prisma Nova's room reaches you.

"Captain Phalanx... I was wondering if you could fill me in on exactly what was going on back home?"

You think for a segment, you were almost to Cybertron already, which would bring up a point of the others wanting to see the space.

--Idle hands can cause problems.... Nimrod, can you create a room to simulate a bridge?--

--of course.--

You mentally switched on the commlink, "I don't really have the time for a school lesson, but if all of you would care to step outside the door, you will find an orb there to lead you to the bridge. We will be dropping out of hyperspace momentarily."

You hear Calcar's voice over the line, "Out of hyperspace?! That's nearly impossible! Char might not be far... but it's not that close the trip should take a megacycle by the fastest drive!"

You sneer, "Then I suppose I have found a drive system that is faster than what your databanks have recorded. Now, if you will step outside."

As the door slid aside, the group entered to see a fairly standard, though very organic looking control room, complete with a commander's chair in the center where a hologram of yourself sat sprawled out as 'you' watched through the massive windows before him. Space 'outside' was blurry, to simulate a hypderdrive effect. "Enter." you spoke through the hologram's mouth.

"So, this is where you control this beast from..." Axer started.

"I don't have time for the obvious. Prisma Nova asked a question, and I thought it might be wise if we all discussed the situation openly."

A hologram appeared in the center of the room of a very detailed presentation of Cybertron.

"Here is out home planet. " You continue, "Orbiting it is a battle station called the Warworld."

A fairly large blip appeared, the size of a small moon. It grew quickly as the hologram zoomed in on it. You could make out the details very well. Including a hood ornament that was best forgotten.

"Is that..." starts Airwave, but you interrupted.

"That is the horn of Unicron on it's brow. Needless to say, even if this horn is not supplying the ship with power, the Warworld is a force to be reckoned with. One that we care not tangle with."

Calcar nodded, "Which is why the codes that you... Prisma and Axer.... supplied are so important. They contain the codes to the defense net surrounding Cybertron."

'You' nodded, the Warworld returning to small moon size, and a network of gun implants appearing in orbit around the planet. Moving among them were several larger warships, "We still need worry about these ships spotting us. They are part of what the Decepticons have held as their 'Armada.' Once dropping out of hyperspace, it will take us fifteen cycles to implement all the control sequences that I have preprogrammed into Nimrod. During that time, we will also need to know, accurately, where all the surrounding ships are located."

"What about the surface of Cybertron?" Prisma Nova presses.

But you had already had Nimrod give you the intelligence on the surface conditions, "The surface is relatively peaceful. The people have returned to their normal lives... minus any intersteller shipping trades. There is however a 'Police Force' that we may find ourselves at odds with. I will set us down away from Cybertropolis, which is where they are primarily located."

"Peaceful!? Even when they have just been conquered?"

"They were not the target of the Warworld." you grin, "As a Predacon, surely you realize that the conquered quickly become the purring cat... turning their belly up in friendship in the hopes that their captors will extend the hand of friendship instead of the claw of destruction."

Prisma nods, "Then what?"

Calcar finishes, "Then we contact our operatives within the city and re-establish our networks. You... well, that is still to be decided. We offered you a ride home, no more."

She grimaces at the connotations, the underlying threat not being lost on her.

You simply nod, "We are dropping out of hyperspace now."

They turn to the 'outside windows'. Rapidly, the hologram in the center of the room shifts.

Nimrod was some distance away, and inside the same asteroid field. From here, you could see Cybertron as a faint, silvery glimmmer in the distance. The hologram however showed much more.

No longer was the Warworld and a few Decepticon ships the only thin in Cybertron space.

The whole of the Cybertronian Fleet had apparently just shown up...

'You' look impassively at the hologram, "This may change things.."

End of NWNG: General Statement