Begin Transmission.......

“This is a Code 1 emergency distress signal. Cybertron has been attacked by it’s oldest enemy. If any Transformer installations can hear this signal send help immediately. We are powerless against the.......

.....End Transmission

“Check Transwarp cells. Moderate as necessary.”

“We’re still in the green, Major.”

“Make sure it stays that way, EagleClaw.”

Optimus Major returned to the Captain’s chair. Optimus was not very experienced when it came to space travel. He was accustomed to having his feet on the ground. Perhaps this was due to the fact that his beast form was a lion, or perhaps he just didn’t like space. EagleClaw, the young brash pilot, had the beast mode of an eagle. This form was probably chosen due to his love of piloting space cruisers.

“Technobot, what is our status?”

“We should be coming out of transwarp space in 1.9 cycles.” Technobot did not have an alternate form. He didn’t need one. He was the most brilliant scientist on colony TF-327. Optimus refused to take this assignment if Technobot was not a member of his crew.

Just then another Maximal walked into the bridge. He was a little smaller than the other Maximals.

“That bug in the landing systems has been taken care of. Thanks to me.” Hip-Hop was not what you would call a modest Transformer. He thought very highly of himself. A former Special Forces soldier, he is quite the fighter. His alternate form is a frog, not the likely choice for a lethal warrior. This form was chosen for him when he lost a bet.

“You can brag about your mediocre technical skills later. We’re about to come out of transwarp space.” Optimus was not one to let one of his crew to banter on for long.

Hip-Hop looks around the room and says, “If we’re about to come out of transwarp space then shouldn’t that motor head on the defense grid get to work?”

Optimus shakes his head and replies, “The defense grid will be activated once we return to normal space.”

The fifth Maximal, the one operating the defense grid, chimes in, “Don’t even bother explaining defense tactics to Frog-legs, Optimus.”

“He’s gonna have a hard enough time trying to explain why his defense expert didn’t make it to Cybertron!” Hip-Hop and Mauler, the fifth Maximal, were constantly at ends with each other. Hip-Hop was sly, smart-alec, cocky, offensive bot, while Mauler was a no-nonsense kind of guy. Not the type to joke around with.

Technobot looks up from his sensors. “Optimus, we are now coming out of transwarp space.”

“Hip-Hop, get to your station. EagleClaw, keep a close eye on those transwarp cells. Report any fluctuations. Mauler, prepare to boot up the defense grid.”

The Maximal ship, the Autobot-1, emerges from Transwarp space without problems. Cybertron is within view.

EagleClaw’s jaw drops. “Talk about a bird’s eye view!”

“That’s right. You’ve never seen Cybertron before have ya kid?” Hip-Hop asks. “I forgot your protoform was activated at the colony.”

“It looks different than I remember it,” Mauler claims.

“Optimus,” Technobot interrupts, “We are within communications distance of the planet.”

“Hip-Hop, try the hailing frequencies.”

“You got it.”

Hip-Hop tries all of the hailing frequencies in an attempt to make contact with the metallic sphere known as Cybetron. A few clicks later they get a response.

“This is the Cybertronian Space Port. Your vessel has been identified as the Autobot-1. Permission to land granted. Transmitting landing coordinates now.”

“All right!” EagleClaw cries, jumping out of his chair.

“Something is not right about this,” Optimus states.

“Everything seems fine down there. Why would we receive a distress signal if there was nothing wrong?” Technobot questions.

“I’m setting the defenses to level three,” Mauler tells them.

Before Mauler has a chance to do this the ship is rocked by an external force, knocking out power. It continues to rumble after the initial jolt.

“Status report!” Optimus commands.

“All primary systems down! Activating auxilary power.” Technobot answers. After a few seconds a few systems come back online.

“Shields holding” Mauler alerts them.

“Sensors indicate that we are being drawn off course. The impact was most likely a tractor beam of some sort originating from Cybertron’s artificial moon.” Technobot reports.

“Let’s keep it together, Bots!”

The Autobot-1 is pulled to Cybertron’s artificial moon. This moon was machine like just as Cybertron is. The Maximals prepare to be boarded by whoever has attacked them.

“I don’t like this,” Hip-Hop says nervously.

“Aw, what’s the matter. Losing your edge.” Mauler implies.

“If we weren’t about to be boarded and possibly tortured and vaped by whatever is out there I’d tear out your processor and feed it to you!”

“Don’t let them stop you, fly trap!”

“Cool your circuits,” Optimus commands. “Right now we’ve got bigger problems.

Suddenly the door is blasted open. A group of heavily armed bots rush in and force the Maximals out of the ship in swat team fashion. Optimus looks at one of the soldiers and notices the Maximal insignia on one of their arms. These robots do not look like Maximals. They do not even look like Transformers. They are far to organic.

The Maximals are herded into what looks like a war room. They see someone looking over holographic maps. When the bot sees the prisoners enter the room he turns the map off.

“Welcome, fellow Maximals.”

“Some welcome,” Hip-Hop says, “No parade, no hot oil drinks.”

“My apologies for the slightly rough landing. We had to act quickly before they hacked into your ship’s main computer. We could not allow you to land on Cybertron.”

“But why? We received clearance from the Space Port.” Optimus states.

“You were deceived. Did you not receive our distress signal?”

“What do you think we’re doin’ here, freak bot!” Hip-Hop retorts.

“Stand down, Hip-Hop. My companion may be a little blunt, but he brings up a valid point. You do not look like Maximals.”

The Triceratops Maximal announces himself to be Tri-Fire, the commander of the artificial moon base. He explains the origins of their technorganic bodies, including what happened in the Technorganic Wars, and Cybertron’s reformation.

“Why would a computer want Cybertron to have natural life?” Technobot asks.

“Oh, man. I leave the planet for 200 measely stellar cycles and you all go and ruin it!” Hip-Hop cries.

Tri-Fire pounds his desk and stands up. “It was the will of the Matrix! Will you dare to question the Matrix?”

“In a nano click.” Hip-Hop answers.

“All of this is irrelevant,” Optimus says. “We received a distress signal, and our mission is to scout and report the situation. Tell me, what is the situation?”

“You see,” Tri-Fire begins, “The technorganic bodies we received from the Oracle had a major flaw. They are not built for military use. That flaw led to the fall of Cybertron.”

“Wha!!!!!” Hip-Hop cries.

“By who? When?” EagleClaw asks.

“Just as I said in the distress call, Cybertron was attacked by it’s oldest enemy. Those that created and enslaved the Transformers.”

“The Quintessons!” Technobot gasps.

“The five faced invaters arrived 100 years ago. They conquered Cybertron quickly and again enslaved the Transformers. We have only been able to launch resistance in the last 10 solar cycles. We barely got out our distress call through their jamming signals.

“But what can we do?” Optimus asks. “I doubt there are enough Transformers in our entire colony to put together an invasion force.”

“We needed Transformers who had yet to be reformatted. We are hoping to change our bodies back to their previous state. Then maybe we can put up a fight against the Quintessons.”

“So much for your all-knowing Matrix. Shouldn’t it have seen this coming?” Hip-Hop questions.

Tri-Fire snarls, but restrains himself. “Along with some of my crew, I will be escorting you down to Cybertron to meet with the Maximal resistance leader. But first we must reconfigure our bodies.”

“I’m not sure we have the technology to change a technorganic body into a Cybertronian body,” Technobot says. “But we do have a few blank protoforms on board our ship. You could transfer your sparks to them and DNA scan your old bodies for your alternate forms.”

“Smart thinking, Technobot.” Optimus says.

“Agreed,” Tri-Fighter states, “We leave in 3 solar cycles.”