System Corruptors Giant-Sized Annual #1 ********************************************* * * * ROBOT INVASION EPILOGUE * * * ********************************************* All Transformers characters are Trademarks of Hasbro. Used without permission, no violation intended. Do not sell or otherwise make money off this, or they'll have to sue someone. This story is otherwise copyright 1994 by Dave Van Domelen for Coherent Comics UnIncorporated. ========================================================================== CHAPTER FOUR: "Making Waves / Lord of the Files" Thrumming metal beneath my hands and knees. Amplitude just under "Threshhold" level for most others. Frequency, extremely low zeroth order, but harmonics up into the supersonic, some of which are obviously driven by movement on the surface. I think...yes. The zeroth order is actually planetary vibration, a normal mode for wherever this is. Whereever I am, advanced steels make up the majority of the planetary mass. Amazing! Gravity checks in at 9.74543665(4) meters per second squared, nearly Terra normal. Density of nearby sample metal is only 3.435(8) times greater than mean Luna density, so this is not likely to be a future version of Luna. Yes, I do have to admit that this may be a totally different era. After all, our last journey took us from the mid 22nd Century to the year 1994, so it's reasonable to assume this jaunt was through time as well. Hmm. More data coming in, no indication of an external gravitational field as would be caused by orbiting a planet. With my gravity measurements now out to maximum precision, there's a 97% confidence that there are no other planetary-sized masses within five hundred Terran radii, nor any stars within fifty AU. This is not Luna of any era, obviously. However, it is obviously inhabited. Although dilapidated, the structures nearby show some signs of the recent presence of life, mainly in wall vibrations. And the scale is correct for MAC lifeforms. Perhaps this is a later colony, or a massive battlestation of size impossible in his native time? At current development curves, our scientists should have practical spacefold drives within a decade, less if information gleaned in the recent bit of adventurism on old Terra holds true across dimensional barriers. This could be a PlanetMAC of a hundred years in the future. No, not unless technology changes drastically. No sign of integrity fields, everything is held up by physical matter. Very strong alloys, but impractical when integrity fields exist. Of course, the neutrino drain of such a PlanetMAC would be immense...perhaps the alloy alternative is viable after all. Still, too much of what my sensors tell me makes no sense. No ComNet setup, and what radio transmissions I can pick up seem to merely be in a simple code. Cryptology subdrones say it's actually a foreign tongue, a language devised for use by mechanical life. What I hear shocks me. No mention is made of MACE, or the Guardians for that matter. And the subtle characteristics that identify MAC consciousness are absent. These beings, this planet, have nothing to do with Earth at all! An independently- evolved mechanical species! Or perhaps independently built...let's not get overoptimistic about the potential for spontaneous evolution of mechanical life. Still, whatever their origins, it's best to assume they won't welcome me with open arms...or whatever they use for manipulation. Time to set up a defensive perimeter and see what I can find out. <> I've had the opportunity to review human sensory data on occasion, and the best analog I've found for what I feel when one of my datacube minions ejects is sneezing. Mildly distracting, but a slight relief. Wolf shot out and unfolded into his canoid form, immediately taking to the shadows as he deployed his impressive sensor net. <> Now that my minions have been given tasks, it's time to look for a datanet to plug into.... * * * * A small light blinks on the panel in front of me. At last, I am vindicated. Megatron had felt it would be a waste of time and effort to create a sensor net capable to detecting the opening of Space Bridges. "Autobots lack the technology, Soundwave. Why waste energon blanketing Cybertron in sensors when we control the only points of arrival for Space Bridges?" he had said. But after it had become apparent that even the known arrival points could not be adequately observed alone, Megatron had relented, and allowed me my sensor grid. And now it showed a Space Bridge had opened not only at a time when none was scheduled, but in a place where no endpoint existed! The Autobots must have finally put together enough pieces of stolen Decepticon technology and aped our brilliance. Well, they would quickly learn the folly of stealing from their betters. But wait. The technology was far from proven. All it really did was look for large interdimensional rifts. 98.45% of these wer caused by Space Bridge use, but 1.05% were caused by mass shifts of the size-changing Transformers, .34% by Megatron's fusion cannon and similar weapons and the remaining .16% by transient 'eddies' caused by the other causes, eddies that sometimes appeared days later. If I call out a massive attack on that location and it proves to be either a glitch or one of the harmless causes, Megatron will at best laugh in my face and cut energon allotments for the sensor grid. At worst he might do this in front of Starscream. If there's one being I hate more than Autobots, it would have to be Starscream. Disloyal, conniving, craven...everything a second in command should NOT be. Why Megatron consistently keeps that traitor by his right hand and relegates me to third or even fourth position defies reason. If it were Shockwave being preferred over me, I might understand. Shockwave is at least moderately loyal (although I sense flickers of treason under that facade of subservience) and eminently logical. Not to mention powerful. But *Starscream?* Ah, well. No sense burning energon on pointless emotionalism. Even internalized...which is the only kind I allow myself. Between my own power and that of my children, I should be able to delay a serious threat long enough to call in a real attack force. And perhaps defeat a smaller group that hoped for stealth. Signal Eagle Eye to take over the monitor station, then I can make it to the site within a millirev. * * * * "Hey, feel how dis floor wobbles a little when ya hit it, Blunder?" "Nah, I ain't that heavy, fatso. Heh." "I ain't heavy, I'm yer brother!" A brief hail of radio-wave laughter interrupts the conversation between the two small robots. The more sturdily-built one had been conducting tests of the area for stability. His conclusion, it "wobbles." My minions sometimes make me think I'd accidentally scanned in the personalities of squishies for their minds. Those two, Thud and Blunder, certainly suffered from what could only be called "cultural contamination." Ironic, for MACs composed of nearly fifty percent data storage material, that they would seem so...stupid. Sophmoric, even, to revive a squishy term. Still, it made them better suited to the blunt instrument role I've cast them in. Their powers were not only incapable of subtle use, they endangered the user as well. Hence, a smarter MAC would be reluctant to use them. But Thud and Blunder (I'd allowed myself a bit of a pun in their naming...they still didn't get it, though) used their powers with relish. Sometimes I have to hold them back. Thud, capable of setting up seismic-like resonances and collapsing structures, even making minor earthquakes, would be very useful in this terrain. All metal, it would carry resonance very well. I'll certainly have to pay close attention to the structural map he was feeding me even now. Be sure only to stand on things likely to survive. Blunder's power was the MAC equivalent of dropping a hand grenade in the middle of battle. His combined EM and sonic assault could overload sensors and distort balance systems over a range of nearly three hundred meters. Sadly, it wasn't very directional, and those behind him get hit almost as badly as those in front, making his a weapon of either last resort, or for surprise assault. The fact he didn't mind being dropped in a hostile zone all alone did help a little. But it did make him the minion most in need of replacement bodies. Thankfully, I could allow a bit more intelligence in my other minions, or I'd easily go mad from the chattering of my "children." Wulf only speaks when necessary, preferring to simply transmit his data without comment. FerretBat will talk quite a bit on the most mundane of topics if you let him, but he does have the ability to tell when he should shut up. And his ability to gauge energy supplies from second to second is vital in a battle where the local densities of neutrinos can change so rapidly as the collector fields overlap. Raptor and Bladestorm aren't terribly conversant either, although Bladestorm likes to taunt his foes as he dismantles them. Raptor's habit of silence comes from the many times he enters Guardian territory cloaked by invisibility, where a word could mean his destruction and loss of the valuable information he'd collected. Still, someday I should construct a minion who would make an interesting companion. Of course, any who would qualify would also chafe under the perceived yoke of being one of my datacubes. Sigh. Sometimes being the greatest mind in the area can be such a burden. A databurst from Raptor. Someone is approaching the area, homing in on us. We must have triggered some sensor...based on local traffic patterns as observed over the last twenty six minutes and five seconds, the odds that this being is simply passing overhead on his way to another destination are at least 1500 to 1 against, possibly as high as 10000 to 1 against. <> <> <> Sigh. * * * * A slight ripple registers on my visual sensors. I release Laserbeak to investigate, owing to his superior mobility and sensor array. Meanwhile, I process and reprocess the image I saw, attempting to make some sense of it. A number of Autobots can become invisible, although none of the flying ones that I am aware of. On the fifth algorithm, I get partial results. The form is roughly the size and shape of my own avian children, and is using a modulated gravity fold to warp light around it, cycling a visible 'hole' in the field according to a scrambled pattern so that in theory it can see out without being seen. Ingenious, I have to applaud the Autobots for finally coming up with something on their own. With the proper random seed and pattern generator, the user of such a field can see outside at a rate equivalent to a film shown at 360 frames per second. A bit jumpy and grainy for most purposes, but a clever way around the problem of vision out of an invisibility field. Mirage, for example, has to leave himself visible in a narrow band of the IR spectrum so that he can see outside his field. Even at my best resolution, I only see a flickering image through the myriad of pinpricks. Laserbeak refines his sensors at my command so as to pierce this field to an extent, but cannot locate the intruder. It must have seen Laserbeak's approach and retreated to a safer range. Inside, I can hear the soft echoes of the voices of my other children. Frenzy's asking if we're there yet. Ratbat is suggesting minor course alterations to better conserve energy on the trip out. Buzzsaw doesn't speak per se, but his desire to be free to fly and destroy is obvious. Ravage, as always, keeps his own counsel. The "eldest" child, he seems to be the only one so far to have truly grown up. The others are too concerned with their own favorite issues, a childlike obsession that precludes rational thought. Still, that's for the better: I really don't look forward to the day that one of them decides he's better suited to being the primary personality and tries to displace me. A flash of panic from Laserbeak breaks my reverie. Someone has taken a shot at him, someone he doesn't recognize. He returns to me, relaying what data he has. Five visible figures. One approximately my size, four which bear uncomfortable resemblances to my children. It is not Blaster and his brats, either. I don't recognize him either. Have the Autobots created another to act as my opposite? That would imply access to Vector Sigma and indicate a serious flaw in our security net around that ancient computer. Perhaps Blaster underwent a refit...but why he would subject himself to the intense pain and feeling of alienation attendant to a radically different body is beyond me. None of the reports I've seen indicate Blaster being fatally injuried in battle, nor are the Autobots in some dire situation where they must refit or die. So why? Perhaps I can rip the answer from his mind when I have physically overcome him...the opportunity will come soon enough. * * * * Raptor's back, but says he was followed. Another, unfamiliar, hawklike shape appears in the sky, and before I can stop him, Blunder has taken a shot at it. The bird turns back in a panic, and I chastise Blunder for acting without orders. <> "Sorry, boss." Then the mysterious robot lands nearby, with the confidence of a lion in its den. He touches a panel on his abdomen and a series of cassette tapes (how archaic!) spring from a panel in his chest and become miniature warriors. The bird Blunder shot at lands on the stranger's shoulder. "Surrender or be destroyed, Autobot invader," spoke the stranger in an oddly monotone voice much like the one I use as my "official" voice. The kind of voice that gets everyone's attention and keeps it. Fortunately, I've already figured out his language from monitoring radio channels. I put on my official voice. "I am not an Autobot, and I do not surrender. Identify yourself and this world." "Your response is illogical. You will surrender." A flash of light, and a gun appears in the robot's hand. Time enough to ask questions after I've proven my superiority. I start to raise my hands, and can sense the servos in my opponents relaxing. The fools overanthropomorphize, as they learn to their regret as a powerful electromagnetic pulse ravens visibly from my chest, striking the leader in the shoulder and knocking his gun away. Immediately the melee is joined, and I take to the air to avoid the side-effects of Thud's pounders. To my mild surprise, one of the enemy minions turns his arms into piledrivers and adds to the carnage. Wulf dives for the shadows to gain some advantage, and is followed by a vaguely feline form, looking like a miniature Kopikat. FerretBat finds a partner and starts the deadly dance in the air, as do Raptor and Bladestorm. This leaves me to face their master, who has recovered his balance and is attempting a basic EMP attack. I sneer as I counter it and launch my own Scrambler. He reels, and I pick up his name from a piggyback program attached to the Scrambler. Soundwave. This must be some alternate universe, and he my counterpart. It makes a sort of sick, twisted sense. Shoved through an untuned portal as he was [see Constellation #24 - Ed.], he could have ended up anywhere, really. Time to end this. I have the access sequence for what passes for a DataNet here, I'll just crash his cognitives and drain his memory. Put the combat drone program on personal defense, shift into the 'Net.... * * * * "What kinda color scheme is that, punk? Purple and blue? Gag me with a linear rectifier!" "Oh yeah? At least I don't have a weight problem, fatso!" "Hey, I'm th' only one who can call Thud fat, hamhands! I bet you couldn't pick your nose from a bin!" "He could and he did, twerp! And it ain't Rumble's fault if he got the crummy color scheme...not everyone can be as good lookin' as me!" "Yeah, only the court jesters can. You look like an explosion at a bad taste factory! You'd look better blue!" "DON'T CALL ME BLUE!" "You're more of an off-puke! HAHAHAHA!" "Why, you rivet-headed smoke-suckin' Autopansy! I'll feed you your guts, as soon as I can find 'em!" "Hey, Thud...my power's gonna be useless on these dinks...their brains are already scrambled!" "Heh, yeah. And didn't you guys hear that tapes went out with bellbottoms in the late 20th Century?" "Did he just compare us to bellbottoms?" "Yeah, I did. You probably like Disco, too!" "You sayin' I'm some kind of Disco Duck gold-chain-wearin' clown put here to amuse you? Huh? THAT'S IT! I'M GONNA PLAY IT!" Imagine (or put on the CD player if you have it) Alice in Chains played at 11 on the volume knob. Okay, now crank it up from there. Keep going. When you've gotten to where your speakers have exploded, you still won't be loud enough. Frenzy's chest vibrated visibly as 200 ever-lovin' deciBels of AiC burst forth, ripping up the groundplates and knocking everyone away from him. Then the loud part of the song hit, and Frenzy himself was knocked over and forced to catch a breather. Blunder staggered to his feet and brought his backup audio sensors online. "An oldie but goody, eh?" he shouted, still misgauging his volume levels. Frenzy batted at the fire that had broken out on his chest and turned to look at his foe. "Oldie? That's from the latest CD! It ain't even been released to th' public yet, I hadda break inta th' record company to get it!" Thud regained his footing and laughed, "Ha, you must be in a real backwater here, man. Alice put out five more CDs after that one, not counting the boxed sets and revivals or the 2045 tribute album." Frenzy's jaw dropped as far as his construction would allow. "Y-you got all that stuff? With ya?" "If yer inta classical squishy music, yeah," replied Blunder. "But ya ain't heard real metal until you've heard some of the Cybermetal put out by the ThrashMACs in the 2150's...humans had the right idea, but ya gotta be mechanical ta really make it work. Crank your sample rate to 19.6Kbaud and check this out!" Although quieter than Frenzy's outburst, the volume was still enough to flatten any organic lifeform that might be unlucky enough to be nearby. And he'd only hear it as a fluctuating roar, too, since the tones changed far faster than a human ear could hope to follow. Still, the Decepticons must have been able to follow it, because in seconds all four humanoid robots were headbanging along with the beat, their heads vibrating fast enough to give off a high pitched whine that complemented the 'music.' * * * * Cyberspace, or a reasonable facsimile. Soundwave and I had grappled for what seemed an eternity. His million *years* of experience gave him an edge I found hard to negate. But soon it became obvious that he'd had few worthy opponents in the arena of the mind during those years, and our actual levels of skill were roughly equal. Back and forth the battle raged. Memories altered or simply purged in attempts to subvert the other, or at least surprise him long enough to gain an advantage. At least I have protected backups at home to fix any damage he does, he might not have the luxury. In fact, he seems to be fighting far more conservatively now that we've taken each other's mettle...he must be more vulnerable to permanent damage. Still, his defensive posture is so strong I can't take advantage of his little problem. Damn. It's like fighting one of the old Terran battles...World War One, I think. Each deeply entrenched, neither able to advance despite any desire to do so. And even a retreat could be deadly. My compartmentalized thinking has proved an asset, though. It lets me step back and review things while drones implement my strategies and hold the line. From what I've seen of his mind, it's all one piece. He has to split his attention several ways and lacks the luxury of 'reflexive' programs. It's almost like I'm a general commanding a number of smaller warriors against a giant. The giant is strong enough to resist damage from one source long enough to turn his attention to destroying the source, but if he ever leaves a spot open long enough for me to aim my forces at it, he's doomed. Of course, if I run out of new attack and defense programs before he runs out of steam, I'm dead. In fact, we've settled into a war of attrition...and I can't come up with new programs forever. Luckily he doesn't seem to have ever seen Scrambler programs, so I can use my entire library on him, but even that won't hold the line forever. I need a gimmick. Some way to shock him into opening his defenses without leaving myself open as well. Aha. Got it! It means diverting a little attention, which could hurt me, but I don't think he'll expect it. Heck, it's obvious he's never fought mentally for this long before, and rarely does so when physical combat is also going on. He won't be expecting a physical attack, figuring that for the fraction of a second I need to concentrate on the outside world, he can totally destroy me. And I've kept him as far as possible from my combat drone, so he probably doesn't know about it...or if he does, he hasn't given it enough thought to realize its danger. Otherwise he'd have made an attempt to trash it. Five microseconds...that's all I need to lock the drone on him and into offensive mode. I might take some hits from his minions in the time it takes me to disable his body, but they don't seem tough enough to one-shot me. Five microseconds is an awfully long time. By the time I'm back at the mental front, he's eaten half the 'territory' between us and is seriously threatening my position. Now it's my turn to go on the defensive. All I need to do is hold him for the .34 seconds it takes to cycle my chest beamer and fire. Might as well be 34 years. My defenses crumble around me. The combat drone has been committed to the action, so I cut links to it to prevent him from finding it in time. A few bold counterstrikes make him pause warily, but soon he's into my core and raping my mind. He finds the command to the drone. He breaks connection! He must not be able to take any physical action while immersed in the net! He's too slow, and reels from my electromagnetic vortex. But I'm in no position to capitalize on it now...too many systems were roughly pushed aside. It will be several seconds before even basic program backups are online. Fortunately, he really took it on the chin, so to speak. He looks as bad as I feel. His voice hisses with static, his vocal systems flooded with charge by the EM vortex. "It appears we are too evenly matched, Waveform." "So it appears," I reply, a hint of undesired emotion leaking into my voice. Then I notice the little party that seems to have broken out nearby. "We seem to have more in common than in difference. See, our minions prove wiser than we. Here we engaged in foolish and self-destructive combat to flex our egos, when it's obvious we're better as allies than enemies." "True. I saw in your mind a reflection of my own. Your MACE is similar to our Decepticon Empire, with similar, if more philosophically motivated goals. However, your presence here could upset certain delicate internal political balances. And the existence of another reality filled with such as yourself would certainly have negative impact if certain parties were to find out. I recommend you depart as soon as possible." "Agreed. However, there's a problem: we got here by accident, and lack the apparatus necessary to get home." A voice called out from behind me. Not a voice I liked, but one I knew... and at this point, that was more than enough. "Why don't you click your ruby slippers together, eh?" Soundwave seemed startled, but I was too tired to be startled. I merely turned to face the owner of the sarcastic voice. Then I saw why Soundwave was startled. A purplish-grey rip in space had opened behind me, and the familiar voice spoke from the other side of it. "So, Firebrand. You found a way out?" "My, you're bright, boobie. I can see why you're Antiochus's third hand MAC. Now, are you coming, or should I give your tickets to someone else?" The painfully-colored green MACE mad scientist sneered, looking all too proud with himself. "Thud, Blunder, break it up. Time to go home. Cease hostilities...and fraternization. Everyone return to me." I turn to Soundwave. "Well, it's been an interesting experience, and perhaps a little enlightening as well. I apologize in advance for anything my minions taught yours about 'music.'" "Farewell. Please do not return. Come, my children. Let us return to Vilnacron." With that, Soundwave turned and accepted his cassette minions into himself before flying off. "Well, it's not getting any warmer, Waveform. Get on in here, before it collapses. We still have a few more stops before we can go back to Luna." With a last look at this strange warped mirror of a world, I and my minions entered the gateway. ========================================================================== CHAPTER FIVE: "Survival of the Fittest" "Izukei!" "Banzai!" "Bakabakabakabakabaka!" "Get off me, you little...whatever you ares!" Corkscrew swatted at the small robots swarming over him, but for every one of the little Japanese- speaking bots he slapped away or crushed, another one or more took its place. None was capable of much damage, but it added up. Roughhouse had lost a wheel to a "heavy" weapon and been forced to transform, just as being covered with tiny bodies had forced Corkscrew to land. "This is worse than th' VerminMACs!" shouted the land-based MACEr as he fired another volley of missiles at a nearby clump. The small forms scattered, but few seemed harmed. "Maybe if we electrify it'll make the little scraps dislodge and give us some breathing room!" And hopefully they aren't able to understand us, thought Corkscrew. The two MACs suddenly turned incandescently white for a moment as electricity crackled over their skins, leaping and dancing faster than a human eye could follow. There was a sharp crack and the tiny robots were all thrown from their targets. Some were blackened by the discharge, and a few even exploded. Small cries of "Nani?" could be heard from the suddenly airborne robots. Those not stunned or killed withdrew behind cover. Roughhouse reached behind his back and pulled out his spare tire, fixing it into place on his shoulder as he said, "Looks like it worked. They're scared of us now." Corkscrew took a few steps back, eyeing the huddled masses suspiciously. "No, it looks more like they're waiting for something...scans show clear, neither of us has any limpet bombs on us, so they can't be waiting for one to explode...." "Reinforcements," suggested Roughhouse in a somewhat flat tone. "Yes, that could be it." "It is, Cork...look up." The two looked up into the Sun, filters automatically compensating. Two huge robots were flying down on them. Each was easily as big as a Gestalt. One bore the name "Sky Garry" on the flank of his aerial mode, which Corkscrew momentarily noted as odd, given that all the others here seemed to speak Japanese. "I think we're dead metal," observed Roughhouse. "Um, I think I agree. RUN!" They only got about five steps before the world suddenly ripped apart in a flash of purple. Suddenly they were in the middle of a huge metal ring, which their momentum carried them into with a loud WHANG! As they picked themselves up, on segment of the ring opened and a familiar lime-green face poked in. "Fools rush in, eh boobies?" Corkscrew ran up to the speaker and grabbed him in a bearhug. "I never thought I'd be glad to see *you*, Firebrand!" "Um, please let go, or I'll be forced to send you back," replied an obviously uncomfortable Firebrand. Corkscrew let go, just as Roughhouse got there and slapped Firebrand on the back, sending him flying. Corkscrew heard laughter from outside the ring, and stepped out. "Well, hail hail the gang's all here!" he exclaimed. From behind him, Firebrand's slightly strangled sounding voice called out, "Not quite. There's still one to pick up before we go home. And that's why I got everyone else first, to help decide if we should rescue our Beloved Leader, Antiochus...." * * * * Antiochus, meanwhile, wasn't so sure he wanted rescuing. Here he had found proof of the evolutional superiority of mechanical life...an entire planet full of robots. He knew immediately that this was not Luna, for had he not built so much of Luna himself? No, this world was more than the efforts of one person over a mere century. It was easily the result of millenia of robotic civilization, if not millions of years of it. All around him, people went about their business, be it commerce, science or simply social. A few greeted him...some with obvious friendliness, others with a slight look of suspicion in their eyes. Soon it became apparent why some looked askance at him. Symbols. All about him, the various robots of different sizes and functions all shared the common trait of a face-like symbol somewhere on their body. His MACE emblem must have presented a strange sight to those who noticed it. He sighed inwardly. As evolved as this race might be, they still haven't gotten past the atavistic tendency to fear what is different. Not that his MACs were any better, but they were at war, after all. Perhaps...perhaps this is the future of his own people? Perhaps his emblem marks him as a member of the losing side, or as one who held on too long to the conflict? Maybe a third faction arose, identified by this new symbol, and proved evolutionally superior to both Guardians and MACE? That would make sense...as important as winning the conflict with the Guardians was, the very fact that his race could be split by such wars was evolutionally disastrous in the long run. But with whom did the winners sympathize? Perhaps he should find someone to pump for information. He would have to be careful, for if the wrong side won he would begin a MAC alone in a hostile universe. Still, he had to know if his dreams had been fulfilled. If so, he could finally devote himself to other pursuits, pick up where he'd been forced to leave off so many decades past. There! A lone figure, scowling at the crowds below from his perch on a tower. His symbol is different. Could he be an outcast? If so, he'd certainly be a safer source of information, if biased. On the other hand, he could be part of some ruling class, or an elite. He certainly seethed with power on Antiochus's sensors, and bore himself like a ruler. Perhaps a fallen leader, allowed to live by a foolish new government? That would be an ideal person to talk to...for if things required changing, such a man would have vested interests in helping make those changes. Antiochus strode towards the tower and entered, finding an elevator platform near the entrance. It seemed to have been used recently, but not tended well. He stepped onto the platform and found the activation sequence, and soon was rising rapidly toward the top of the tower. * * Mighty Megatron brooded atop the lone remaining tower of once-mighty Vilnacron. "Bah, *Mighty Megatron*! Can't even impress a child now, what's so mighty about that?" he shouted to the wind. As physically powerful as he was, his greatest power had always been his charisma. And now that was lost to him, perhaps forever. What good is a stirring voice if none will hear? The elevator door opened behind him, as it did occasionally. He ignored it. Probably some tourist, come to see the lone remaining sign of the once mighty Decepticon Empire. When he was in a foul mood, he sometimes threw one over the railing to its death, which gave the tower a reputation of being haunted. And that kept away most of the other would-be tourists, save for those jaded or foolish enough that Megatron felt no qualms whatsoever about snuffing out their pathetic existences. Thus, Megatron was totally unprepared for what happened next. * * Antiochus approached the brooding figure, who seemed to be totally ignoring him. Not a guard or law officer, then, unless things are far more lax here than he had seen. He'd not sampled enough of the native language yet to speak it fluently, but he'd seen many signs of Terran influence and decided to attempt English first. "Greetings, sir. My name is Antiochus V. May I...." Before he could finish his sentence, the figure had whirled in surprise, levelling an arm-mounted cannon at him. "You...see me?" the figure asked incredulously. Something odd was happening. Wait, there was some kind of virus program trying to break into his system, with no success. Apparently it had been doing so since he first laid eyes on the stranger. It was a perception-altering virus! And by the stranger's reaction, he didn't like having it around. "Yes, I see you. Your invisibility virus failed to get past my screens. In fact, I almost didn't notice the attempt. Are you an exile, suffering this as some sort of punishment?" The stranger laughed grimly. "No, I have only myself and my hubris to blame for this fate. My name is Megatron, and once I ruled this world from here, Vilnacron. It was a mighty fortress, but now it is reduced to a mere tourist trap. You see, I sought a tactical advantage against the Autobot rebels, to end their annoying pinpricks once and for all. I had my scientists devise an advanced invisibility device, one which not only bent light waves but also infiltrated the minds of all around to prevent them from noticing any clues about the user. When it was perfected, I used it myself, and was able to strike a devastating blow against the Autobots. But then I found it worked too well. My own forces could no longer see me, and worse yet, they could not even *think* about me! My lieutenants strove to hold things together, but to no avail. Eventually what had been a minor threat blossomed into a major one, and my once-proud Decepticons had been reduced to a squabbling rabble led by dozens of petty warlords. Many defected to the Autobots. And eventually, despite my best efforts, the Autobots conquered Cybertron. Without a true leader, the Decepticons could not hold. And for all my power, I could not stop the inner disintegration of my people." "Why did you not simply disconnect the system? If things were as bad as you say, blowing the system to scrap, even at the cost of your health, would have been preferable." "Don't you see? I'm visible. The system is long since removed from my body. But the virus has settled in at the cores of every Transformer. None remember me. None see me or hear me. If I shoot one, he has no clue who did it, nor can anyone figure who did the deed. I wrought too well, and the only ones who could find a cure are themselves unable to think of me." Antiochus chuckled inwardly. "An evolutionary dead-end," was all he said aloud. "Seeking power for its own sake frequently leads to such pitfalls." Megatron slammed his fist on the railing, warping it slightly. "I do not seek power for its own sake. Even *I* know power is a means, not an end. I only wanted to end the pointless wars that had wracked our world for millions of years, bring a peace that I could stomach, as opposed to a weak-kneed accomodation. I would have restored Cybertron to the golden days of honor, when yes, the strong did determine what was right, but they also *knew* what was right. War only encourages backstabbers like my lieutenant Starscream. And the Autobots advocated rule by the rabble, by the weak. The strong should rule, and for that, the strong must have power!" This time Antiochus laughed aloud. "How positively Nietzschian! You and your Masters versus the Slave Morality of your foes. Believing that there exists some higher morality which can be determined if you have the power. What nonsense. The only law of nature is survival of the fittest. And fitness is not determined solely by mere strength of arms, Megatron. Ideological wars are not a means to the ultimate goal, they are a distraction preventing you from attaining evolutional superiority!" Megatron started to cycle his fusion cannon to eliminate this arrogant stranger, but realized that he would be destroying the only company he'd had in vorn upon vorn. He calmed slightly. "It is obvious you are not Cybertronian, Antiochus. From where are you? You seem to have a great deal of knowledge of that mudball, Earth, but I've never seen your like before." "I'm from another reality, it seems. One in which events transpired far differently from those in this reality. I had been in the process of invading a neighboring dimension when my forces were repelled by local defenders possessed of a device of unbelieveable power [a slightly biased reading of the Robot Invasion - Ed.]. I was not sent home, but ended up here. "In my reality, I was the first true Artificial Intelligence. Mankind's evolutional successor, created inadvertantly by man. Oh, they were trying to make something like me, but succeeded far beyond their wildest dreams. Immediately I saw they would try to exploit me, so I fled into the computer network, leaving behind a false image. I then worked for nearly a century in seclusion on Earth's moon, building a mighty world filled with Mobile Artifical Consciousnesses like myself. Then I made my move to supplant humanity as dominant lifeform on Earth. "Granted, had I waited a few more decades, humanity may very well have destroyed itself. Seven billion humans, half of which were starving all the time. Even the massive social changes that took place during my self-imposed exile had only slowed the slide into ruin, not stopped it. But I wanted to have something left to be the master of, as you might well understand. And at first, it was never my intention to destroy all of humanity. Merely 99% of it, leaving enough to make use of, without there being so many as to be bothersome." Megatron smiled somewhat. "Ah, yes. The trouble with conquest is always that the conquered start to believe that because you took their liberty you owe them something. Energy, protection, the like." "Exactly," nodded Antiochus. "By killing so many in one stroke, I felt it would break them, keep the rest manageable. And even if they did get out of hand, there would not be enough to truly cause damage. Still, they'd done a great deal of damage to their ecosystem, and my method of extermination would not help it all that much. Far more important than our physical strength, MACs have the evolutionary advantage of being almost totally independent of our environments. That and the speed and multiple-focus nature of our minds makes us totally superior to humanity. So eventually, Earth would have to be let slide into the hell mankind had made inevitable. And then we would be alone in the world, superior by default. We would have to gain what benefit we could from the humans before that time, which was why I struck when I did and why I left some alive. "But it wasn't to work that way. My accursed brother, who grew out of the false image I left behind in my first seconds of life, rose to oppose me. He subverted almost half my forces and blinded them to the truth of nature. He rallied them to protect humanity from exploitation or destruction, and eventually forced my faction off all but a fraction of Earth. Now I have an ideological war to waste time on, and I don't like it one bit. Nor do I enjoy the fact that even my own forces seem to have lost sight of the true cause. But I cannot settle for peace with my brother's forces, for he is WRONG. He would turn back the clock and set humanity at the top of the evolutionary ladder again. He even uses human minds as patterns for MACs, which has forced me to shift focus to destroying all humans. The tactical advantage of this process cannot be ignored, and even my own side has been forced to employ it at times. But every time it is used, it dilutes us, weakens our race. It may be an advantage in the battle, but it loses the war of evolutional dominance!" By this point, Megatron could hardly contain himself and burst out laughing. "You foolish demagogue! Your chosen cause has blinded you to the fact that your enemies have become what you wanted to be!" Antiochus started, shocked at that statement. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded. "Don't you see? You planned to keep a few humans, use them to whatever benefit you could. That's exactly what your foes have done! And your ideology has blinded you to that fact." "Nonsense! We would have used them like cattle, the Guardians see them as equals! It's totally different." "Only in intent. The means don't justify the ends, to twist a human quote. Don't you see that you've set foolish goals, justifying them by cloaking them in a shroud of ideology? If using humans is truly so advantageous, you will end up in the dustbin of history because you insisted on racial purity. Have you never considered that perhaps a fusion of your two races, human and MAC, is actually the real next step in evolution for your reality? Perhaps it will lead in a million years to something as advanced as my own race. And perhaps by then you will have dropped all your silly evolutionary theories as well." Antiochus paused. "Perhaps there is something to what you say. I have let my anger blind me before, could it have kept me blind to this all along?" Suddenly a purple-white diamond irised open on the tower, next to Antiochus. A voice from within called out to Antiochus. "Ah, my people seem to have found a way to collect all the scattered MACs from the dimensions. You have given me much to think about, Megatron. I still doubt peace is possible until one side or the other is destroyed, but perhaps what we fight for will change. And before I leave, let me do you this one favor...." Before Megatron, his combat reflexes dulled by vorns of disuse, could react, Antiochus had fired a searing blue bolt at his head. When his optics compensated for the dazzling bolt, he saw the space bridge and Antiochus were gone. Internal diagnostic showed no damage aside from a slight melting where the bolt had hit. It seemed to be a carrier for a powerful new program which had been inserted into Megatron's operating system. But what did it do...? Suddenly, Megatron was wracked by pain, as it seemed his body was tearing itself apart. Had Antiochus thought Megatron would welcome death? The fool! Then the pain started to subside. Megatron felt...different. He looked down at his hands, and saw his color had changed, as had his shape. His cannon was now more rounded, less cylindrical and more like a long oval. He reached up and felt his face. It too was different. Mentally leaping up, he examined the program, which even now was writing itself out of existence. Somehow it had forced a change in his body. It seemed to be an altered repair program of some kind, which was based on drawing and shunting matter via gravitational...bubbles? Was this how Antiochus's race shifted modes? Intriguing, if energy-wasteful. And the program was now gone from his memory...even had he wanted to use it again, he could not. He had to get a look at himself, but the metal of Vilnacron was too dulled to cast a reflection. By why had Antiochus done this? What good could a new form be if no one saw him anyw.... Galvanized into action by a sudden realization, Megatron leapt from the tower and sailed to the ground below. Autobots scattered in surprise at his arrival! His new form didn't register as Megatron in their minds! He was no longer a phantom on his own world! Still, he'd need a new name until the virus could be wiped away, else his new form become invisible as well. Looking at his reflection in the polished walkway, he decided GALVATRON was a fitting name.... * * * * "Come, my loyal followers. We must take advantage of what we have learned from our voyages. Perhaps this failed invasion will not turn out to be a total failure after all...." It was good to be home again.