Some ancient philosopher wrote "Destiny is the scapegoat we make responsible for our crimes." My vocation sort of makes me an expert on crime. I'm a thief. A few years back I took an away mission, during that time I acquired a wolf beast mode and the nickname Nightwolf. I know some might consider my profession illegal, but unless you can really understand me and where I come from, you can never really judge me based on my hobby. I'm the type that has nothing, but I still want enough to get by...with a little extra leftover. It's not illegal unless you get caught. Based on that technicality, I've only done something illegal three times in life. Well...actually it was four. I was acquitted once on another technicality.

Given where I was going, it's hard to believe where I ended up. By now the legend of Megatron is pretty wide spread. A thief who screwed up, started a war, lost a war, and then started a whole new war on home ground. The war against Megatron was going pretty bad on Cybertron, a lot of people were dead and Megs was still moving forward. The Council ordered an evacuation of most of the planet. Those who could afford it got to leave. I had thought about being a stowaway, I almost did it too. But then that conscience thing got the better of me and I decided to stay behind and help with the resistance faction. I didn't get far before this guy spotted me. He mistook me for a soldier and ordered me to help load civilians. There wasn't much else I could do, I just followed along. I didn't realize that the unit I was supposedly a part of was planning to leave the planet with the civilians.

I got to know the soldier who recruited me, his name was Ballistic. About a two months after we left Cybertron I finally told Ballistic the truth about who I was. Despite what his name would imply, he was pretty rational about it. He just wanted to know if I had stolen anything since we left Cybertron. Stealing from people who already have lost almost everything? That's not just bad business practice, but also wrong. He trusts me now, or so he says. If he didn't trust me I don't know if I could really blame him.

That was about two years ago. Three weeks ago we received a deep space transmission from Cybertron saying that the war with Megatron had been won almost a year before. They promised a "great reunion", problem is they didn't exactly outline the conditions for entry. Getting back to Cybertron meant that you passed through their version of "immigration" first. The end of that line was where you got "reformatted". Reformatting was the "way or the Oracle", that's all we had to know, or so they said. Ballistic and I received the reports that some were being forced into the reformatting and that their ships were destroyed soon after landing. Ballistic called it a "diplomatic mission". As I said, I've known Ballistic for two years and that guy doesn't bring heavy artillery to a political debate.

When we landed we were escorted to the new Council Citadel. From the reports I heard after Megatron's attack, I was impressed they were able to salvage anything out of the city. I couldn't help but notice that the Citadel was about a mile from its original location. I didn't ask. We were led into the main chamber, where seven or so bots resembling something that made Quentissens look good. The guy in the center looked like a red dragon-man with chunks of metal plastered here and there on his body. Must be that "techno-organic" they talked about. I call it bad science. The dragon thing talked first, he sounded like a Pred on steroids,

"Welcome to Techno Organic Cybertron. My name is Destron."

"I'm Ballistic, this is my associate Nightwolf. We're representatives of Colony 1479." Ballistic said, "I don't recognize any of you as Council Elders."

"As you know the elders left the planet during Megatron's attack. With Optimus Primal dead and Cheetor tending to matters elsewhere, we were left with no other leadership. While the Council is away, I'm in charge over certain government matters." Ballistic jumped on the end of the sentence like a trained rotweiler,

"Do part of these 'government matters' involve forcing everyone to be reformatted?" Ballistic asked.

"We don't force the issue, we only...strongly recommend it."

"Strongly recommending it while you're holding guns on them?" I asked.

"Those reports are false." Destron said coldly.

"I didn't mention any reports." I countered, "But now that you mention it, there were at least thirteen reports of such actions."

"We are trying to enforce the next phase in Cybertron's evolution. We believe that techno-organic is the stepping stone to the day when the Oracle will grant us perfection!" Destron was beginning to sound like a raving lunatic. Ballistic was starting to pick up on it, if he hadn't already. It was then that I noticed the guards inching their way closer to us. At that point I was kind of glad Ballistic had packed the extra ammo not that I was ready to use it though.

Destron's face was getting increasingly worse. I had been wrong about his alternate mode before. It wasn't a dragon he turned into, it was contempt. And he was getting pretty close to it.

"It is a simple request! We want everyone who chooses to live on Cybertron to be a techno-organic!"

"And what if they don't want that?" Ballistic asked.

"They don't have to live here in our perfect society."

"From the sounds of things, they do. Destroying their ships preventing anyone from leaving, incinerating weapons that don't meet the techno-organic standard and forcing civilians into reformatting facilities. Sounds to me like you're forcing the issue a little too much." Destron had finally reached "Peeved Mode". His nostrils flared so much I half expected him to breathe fire. I held my "Puff the Magic Dragon" comments as he challenged Ballistic's statement,

"Do you know what Cybertron's problem is?!"

"Too many cuckoos, not enough clocks?" I couldn't help myself. It was almost instinctive. Ballistic didn't seem to mind, the giant red lizard seemed kind of upset,

"Cybertron's problem is technology! Each day we move closer and closer to being a unified, single-minded machine! Megatron's vision and our very nightmare! They only way to ensure the survival of our race is to change! It's our destiny!" that's when I started thinking of that old philosopher. Here was a guy claiming he had been given a divine mission to reshape an entire race. I was starting to remember why we broke contact with the humans.

"Why don't you allow Cybertron to chose for itself!!" Ballistic yelled back. He was beginning to show his grumpy side.

"There's a rather old maxim, if you are not with us, you are against us." Destron said. He finally motioned for the guards. I was waiting for this and judging by his battle-ready stance, I could tell Ballistic was eager to show where he got his name.

You know, techno-organic Maximals are a little tougher than they look. Mistake of nature or not, they can really put up a fight. I got that all from seeing one of them stand back up after being shot by Ballistic. Knowing we were outnumbered, Ballistic transformed into Vehicle mode. Sort of an "all-terrain tank". Armed to the teeth of course. I grabbed onto the side knowing this was my ride out of there. We both fired behind us trying to point out that following us was a bad idea. We didn't get far, they blocked the exits. Lousy techno-organic tacticians. You would think that if they were half the tree-huggers they claimed to be, they wouldn't be so prepared for battle. We were surrounded, what's the fancy military term for that? Oh well, we were surrounded. Back in robot mode, Ballistic tossed something to me that resembled a bazooka. Not even the walking artillery was going to get us out of this one. Just when we were about to be completely overtaken, something dropped out of the ceiling and landed beside of us. The floor kind of shook a little, whatever it was, it was heavy. I looked over to see another Transformer. I worried at first but he didn't look like a Maximal, he was totally techno. It was too dark to see who he was but in this gruff voice he told us to get down. With no other options, we hit the floor. I was able to glance up and see the bot gathering energy seemingly out of thin air. Then some kind of shockwave flew out from all around him and knocked all of the approaching Maximals down. Ballistic and I got up to thank the stranger but instead he motioned for us to follow him. We didn't have many other choices so we left the building with the mystery guy.

We were a mile or so away from the Citadel before he led us underground into some kind of cave. Ballistic asked the question for both of us,

"We appreciate the help back there, but who are you?"

"A friend with similar goals. I want to stop what's happening to this planet as much as you do." the bot said. Pretty revealing, but a little vague for my tastes,

"Got a name for that proclamation?" I asked.

"Call me Rhinox."

I realized right then that I was in way over my head. Too many questions, not enough answers. If this guy was lying, we could easily be walking into a trap that's going to get us both killed. Then again, what if he was telling the truth? I didn't know where all of this was going, but it was turning out to be one heck of a ride. Just hope my insurance covers it.
 

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