An Exploration Mission (Closed; Att'n Vallermoore)

[Vallermoore]

Hotel

Pesticide was pleasantly surprised to suddenly have fans and under normal circumstances would have stopped to talk to them, but he didn't want to keep Connect waiting, so he gave them a wave and went into a Decepticon sized lift with ICC on the top of fine filigree. When he found the right floor and room and knocked on the door, the bot who opened it was excessively well armed even by Decepticon standards and didn't look in the least bit friendly."State your business," the bodyguard said.
Pesticide explained why he was there ands was allowed in to where Connect waited for him and explained the problem-a Mafia family was fending off the ICC and needed it's Boss and Chief Strategist killed. and the Chief Strategist was hiding in a secret bunker that needed to be found and penetrated so he could be killed. Pesticide's mind boards were remembering all of this far better then a biological brain could. He was given a map and made a suggestion. "If I could take a couple of my own Energon Cubes along to Vandu's oil market, I could have enough money for hotel expenses and the like whilst I'm there."

"Good idea. I'll let you borrow one of our small craft with enough room for two Energon Cubes-and ICC in Binary on it, which should put off most random raiders. Plenty of them in the past learned the hard way not to raid the ICC. You provide the Cubes. Don't prang the ship, it's not yours and we want it back afterwards."

After reading and destroying the chip, Pesticide was allowed to borrow an ICC ship and android body, his body being watched over in an ICC vault, and left Cybertron without needing to cloak as the gangs of bots saw the ICC sign, knew no bot would dare fake it, and let him pass unbothered. He made it to Vandu, got his craft landed at the spaceport and got the two Cubes changed for a large amount of money, and took a room at a three star hotel. This paticular planet seemed to have very few if any sapient ponies except a few tourists. Pesticide brought a large piece of quartz from a jewelery shop and put some magic into it. Whilst he didn't know the name of the Chief Strategist he could find the hidden bunker. Getting in would be a problem. He didn't know the code, could hardly knock and be let in, and even Decepticon blasters would take a long time to break through. Just then the door opened, and he punched the Mafia man who opened it in the throat, busting his neck and killing him. Turning on the android's camoflage he took the Mafia man's pistol and stepped inside. He would have to be careful-there could be booby traps, Mafia with weapons that could take even his android body down, or more. It was not impossible that there might be a unicorn or a changeling working for this Mafia Family, although it was unlikely, but he didn't rule it out. He might have to kill everyone in this bunker to reach and take out his target. Should he succeed in his mission totally and kill both his targets, his pay would let him buy his first spare body.

[Victorious Decepticons]

To Pesticide's surprise, the bunker wasn't full of staffers. In fact, other than a couple of maintenance people, there seemed to be no one around. He searched through several rooms, only to find that they were dusty from disuse. Some had old computer parts, apparently defunct, stored within.

Finally, he spotted a dark hallway with a dim light coming from a room at the end. Quietly, he made his way down the narrow corridor, activating his night vision to make sure he didn't get jumped. To his relief, there was nobody hiding in the thick shadow.
Suddenly, he heard a soft, computerized bell sound coming from the room. A tired groan came next, followed by the sound of someone shifting in a leather chair.

Pesticide sped up a bit, and several seconds later, arrived just outside the room's door. Cautiously, he stepped inside with the gun he had taken ready. He expected to find a person engrossed in a game, or perhaps something online.

Instead, he found himself looking at a rather heavy man holding a large pistol at the ready.

"So you managed to find my domain," the man said as he held his gun steady. "Did you think I'd have no intruder detectors in here?" His voice betrayed no emotion. "Well. You came a long way into the plains to see me. At least you should have a prize for your efforts before I get back to my game."

With that, the man began to pull the trigger on his gun, intending for the "prize" to be a chunk of souvenir lead.

[Vallermoore]

Even though Pesticide had camouflage on, the man still knew roughly where he was and the bullet fired only just missed Pesticide's head. Pesticide fired back, shooting the man in his chest and to make sure of his kill, several times in the head as well, then took a picture of the dead man with a camera embedded within his android body and sent it back in data packets to the ICC main headquarters in Cybertron. He then got out of there as quickly as possible, as he had to get to the Don before the Don realized that his Chief Strategist was dead, which would make assassinating him much harder. Once he was far from the bunker, as he knew the name of the Don he could use the quartz crystal to find where he was, in a bar with two burly and no doubt well armed bodyguards. He turned off his camouflage and hired a taxi, saying he risked being late for a job interview, and got out and paid the driver just two streets away from the Don. Then he walked in without using his camouflage this time, to avoid any Decepticon traces. He was able to get quite close and used the machine gun he had been provided with, riddling all three with bullets, taking a few pictures with his covert camara and getting out of there before the police could turn up. Soon enough he was in the ICC ship and went FTL back to Cybertron. Seeing the ICC markings on the ship, the gangs of random raiders left him be rather then risk having ICC thugs coming after them for destroying their ship, and he landed without trouble. Soon enough he was back in his main body and was summoned by Connect, who was in a very good mood. He was looking forward to getting his pay, with which he could buy another body, making him harder to kill.

If there were other jobs for him to do, he would serve the ICC until he got his draft notice, which could not be dodged. After his training and first stint, he would apply to join the Genociders and serve under General Carjack. Then, in his mind, his life and career were set. As he would not be allowed as a Genocider to raid on his own, the Decepticon Military would feed him, and he would get a room in the barracks to live and leave periods at times. The loot he got from planets would let him buy games and the occasional spare body, and life would be sweet. If on duty he lost a body he would go to the Military Save Vault.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Before leaving the bunker, Pesticide glanced at the screen that was showing on the Chief Strategist's monitor. It was a floorplan of the same bunker. Within the diagram, red dots showed all of the sensors Pesticide had tripped on his way to this room.

On his way out, Pesticide stopped carefully at a few of the points. It was then that he noticed that the floor sagged ever so slightly at each one. He realized now that he had walked over several embedded scales. The scales couldn't tell whether he was friend or foe, but they did detect that he was there. Operational protocols for the staff - which the assassin didn't know about, much less follow - let the CS know that the approaching being wasn't one of them.

By the time Pesticide reached the spaceport, news of the "gangland execution" of Don Quiglione was already being broadcast. The killer pretended not to be interested as he walked briskly past the people waiting for commercial flights, but once he was in his spaceship, he turned on a radio to at least catch the audio of the reports. He stayed out of FTL until he caught the news, which was speculating that a local mobster had ordered the hit. There was no news about the Chief Strategist yet - apparently, his bunker, and his body, had not yet been found. There was a chance that his death would never be reported since the Quiglione Family would likely find it first and just quietly dispose of it in order to avoid police scrutiny.

Main Military Base, Cybertron

General Carjack looked through the DomIntel reports with dutiful attention. These reports came in every month or two and gave details about the Genocide Battalion prospects that the agency had identified. For each file, Carjack clicked one of three options: Accept, reject, or keep watching.

The reports mostly contained the usual array of types of people. There were the violent ones who, while deadly, would not have the discipline needed for a specialized role in the Decepticon Forces; those who were flagged by overzealous agents, edgelord foreigners who really didn't know what war, much less its grittiest aspect, was really about (and who would quickly get full of glitches in the Battalion); and a couple of suspected serial killers who merited further surveillance.

When Carjack got to Pesticide's report, he almost dismissed it. The basic description was anything but interesting. The subject was a foreigner, originally a pony, and from a conquered planet. Surely he belonged in a mine pulling a cart, or in a rendering pit... Reading further, however, revealed that this one was far more interesting than the basic description seemed. He had confirmed kills on his own world, and here, had eschewed basic raiding in favor of getting a job (Carjack frowned fiercely at this before reading more)...as an ICC hitman. He had already done his first two hits with the cold precision a true professional displays.

Carjack clicked the radio button for DomIntel to keep watching that one and made a note that he was interested. This set some of Pesticide's fate in stone. Assuming he lived, he would be slotted into Carjack's division of regulars for his training stint. There, he would get an early taste of how Carjack did things in general, and the Genocider could get a better look at this most interesting foreigner.

Hotel

While General Carjack may have been making plans, Pesticide wasn't in the military yet. For now, it was time for him to collect his money and retrieve his regular body. When he got to the hotel room, though, a new ICC bodyguard gave him a different address to report to. It was for a warehouse in an area that was relatively isolated.

At the warehouse, Pesticide was greeted by Connect, who was grinning widely, and his extremely well-armed bodyguard, who wouldn't show anything but seething rage even if given the deed to the Main Refinery. Connect had already gotten the news of Quiglione's brutal extermination thanks to his powerful short wave radio, which he had been glued to since he sent Pesticide out. He waved away the pictures of the dead Chief Strategist, saying that a few Cubes to ForIntel produced more reliable results. He was well aware of the fact that photos could easily be faked.

Soon enough, Pesticide finally had enough money for a spare body, but Connect warned him not to go nuts and spend it all. "On that pony planet, they probably taught you that all life is priceless. But here in the real world, it ain't so. Those two guys were worth so much because getting rid of them means we'll be able to take over the entire underworld on that planet. Not only that, one was well hidden, and the other was well guarded. For a NORMAL job, you'll clear between 5,000 and 10,000 Cubes. That's actually good money for an uncomplicated hit. Most only charge a thousand for a full deactivation. But you're in the ICC, and that tells people that you can really solve their problems. So they're willing to pay more."

Connect went on to inform Pesticide that problem solvers don't get 100% of a customer's fee. Instead, the ICC would get most of the money for a contract. "That's essential to the operation," Connect explained. "These warehouses, armories, high end repair shops, mechanics, bodyguards, factories, spaceships, and all the rest aren't free! At least, not for me. So we take 60% of the contract money. In exchange, you still get far more than an independent would, AND you get the use of all necessary resources for carrying out your assignments."

The pay split was actually very good compared to what a regular employee would get on some other planet, and the work was definitely unique. Even better, here on Cybertron, it was perfectly legal to be a problem solver - and since it didn't involve raiding, there would be no Raid Tax on the earnings.

"Now that that's settled, a small assignment has come in. This one involves ending a rivalry between two guys who used to be in a gang together. One of them was thrown out due to the machinations of the other. Avenge the guy who got booted to make yourself an easy 5 grand. As always, you are to solve this problempermanently. So be sure you get all the Spares and Saves."

Connect handed over a chip with all of the relevant details, such as the target's current name, preferred body type, armamentation, known hangouts, gang affiliation, and when he was most likely to be away from the gang. It was up to Pesticide to decide how to go about deleting this one. Secrecy was not required, and in fact, here on Cybertron it was a good ad for the ICC if it was known that they had done the deed.

[Vallermoore]

Main Military Base, Cybertron

General Carjack sat being a desk checking the Domintel reports for would be Genocide Battalion reports. Many bots might have what it took to fit in well to Decepticon life but not to be a Genocider. Some were too soft, some had no proper discipline, some would need to be Debugged after every Genocide, and Carjack wanted the best of the best. When he saw Pesticide's file he remembered the pony with the saw-tipped boomerang cutie mark. He didn't like ponies much, but he then read this pony had committed murders as a pony and got away with it, and had all by himself did something never done by someone undergoing a survival test-he had killed a Decepticon by teleporting lightning right into his insides. In human terms, it would be like a small tarantula spider killing a full sized healthy human, and it certainly sparked Carjack's interest. His anger rose when he found Pesticide had taken a job-but lowered again when he found it was as a hitbot for the ICC. Perhaps he did have what it took. He decided that when Pesticide was called up for his first stint, it would be in Carjack's regular division. If things worked out there, he would be granted training for the Genociders, and if that worked well, Pesticide could earn his Skull and Wrenches. Briefly he remembered Loyal Star in his Battalion, and quickly pushed that thought out of his mind before it made him angry again.

Hotel

Connect was clearly happy, but his bodyguard seemed to have some sort of Anger Up turned on. Pesticide had been a success, and could do more jobs for him. Connect told him that he would only get 40% of the fee due to the help he needed from the ICC-however, that was still enough, Pesticide thought , to at least buy a scout body if he needed it. His next job, for 5000 Cubes, was to deal with a bot on Cybertron who had taken over another gang. Soon enough, he had virus checked the chip and read what was on it. The bot called himself Demolisher, had two Standard Blasters and a fusion cannon-weak by fusion cannon standards but still much more powerful then blasters, and was the new head of the seven strong Lightning Raiders. For the first day, Pesticide brought a Save Detector and went around uncovering Save Discs and destroying them. A bribe of 800 Cubes to Domintel uncovered two spares, one a scout body, and the other an average body, and Pesticide stole them both and sold them to a bot who happened to be named Vintage. They were in perfect condition and worth more this way sold to a chip shop then just to a foundry. In fact, he made half of what they were worth, 30,000 Cubes for the two of them. With the Cubes and those he had been paid by the ICC, he brought a new average body from the Strength of Cybertron, and a couple of poison Energon Cubes. He decided that first he would try and poison his foe when he came to see his Coder, which he did every month or so for a day, but if that failed, he would have to use blasters and lightning to do the job the hard way. If he died, he would have his Spare, and if he was killed and sent to the afterlife-that was his fate. He didn't want to die, but he would die rather then fail the ICC.

He had a back panal made, and walked past the target, just happening to let the poison Cube "accidently" fall out of his panel. If his foe took it, then hopefully he would poison himself and be left unable to move. Or he might take it and drink it later, in which case Pesticide could use his scrying crystal to find out about it. If he mind transfered after being poisoned, his mind would have nowhere to go but the Decepticon afterlife. Pesticide was ready to use force if his poison plot failed, of course, but hoped he wouldn't have to go up against a fusion cannon. Even the smaller ones could burn through most armours with one hit.

[Victorious Decepticons]

In the Street

Demolisher, who Pesticide wrongly assumed was now the leader of his gang, watched with a chuckle as the bot in front of him opened a panel and deliberately dropped an Energon Cube. Just by looking at Pesticide's physical state, he could tell that it wasn't the result of a malfunction, which meant it had to be on purpose.

Despite this, he reached over - while keeping his head looking at Pesticide's back in case he turned around and started blasting - and after picking up the Cube, stored it securely in his own panels.

"Tell that tin can I said thanks for the free Poison Cube!" He called out in a jeering way, as he readied his blasters and fusion cannon for what he figured would become a full battle. The "tin can" he referred to was his rival. He figured that said rival must have somehow gotten Pesticide to make this attempt. What he didn't realize was that the would-be assassin was of the ICC, rather than just being someone his enemy happened to know.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Vintage's Shop

Vintage had seen customers like this before - ones who came in to sell off multiple new bodies with no explanation. Even as he talked to Pesticide, he got to work removing all of the circuit boards. He knew he had to work fast - whoever these forms belonged to could mind-transfer into one of them without warning at any time, and if that happened, Vintage could end up blasted offline and his shop looted or burned. Pesticide couldn't help but marvel at Vintage's deft cracking of the head and chest panel security, followed by the even faster removal of the boards. Soon, the boards were stacked on a cart, and the bodies were safely neutralized.

"Make sure you trash the boards the next time you get forms like this. Otherwise, 'someone' may enter them and take your head off when you least expect it." Vintage warned. "It's a good idea to paint them other colors, too, so that their original source doesn't recognize them as you go walking around in the open with them."

Vintage then commented on Pesticide's ICC symbols and his other marking. "You're brave to wear a pony's mark around here, but if you managed to get into the ICC, you must have some skills, so I suppose you won't be in the foundry tonight," he noted. "Still, you're new here. If you're going to do something other than raid, it'll take some creative thinking to get the job done. We're used to every sort of top-level con."

After finishing with making the bodies safe to have around, Vintage went over to the shop vault and retrieved the Cubes. "Watch your back." He said by way of closing greeting, not as a threat, but as a genuine warning. He knew that anybody in the ICC would be putting himself into dangerous situations.

~~~~~~~~~~

Staging Area

Loyal Star sat, bored, in a chair at the front of the Temple. He had become much better at preaching, and even at hearing stories of horrible events in wars and offering some counseling for them. However, he had not been allowed into any battles, and had grown used to the comings and goings of the base's raiding forces. He spent many days like this, and had begun to hope for another assignment.

While another assignment was not yet forthcoming, Loyal Star's boredom was about to end - at least temporarily. Suddenly, red alert alarms went off all across the base's area, and troops that had just left returned in a hurry with their jets roaring loudly. Loyal Star jumped up and began to ran for the Temple doors to see what was going on. Before he could get there, a Military Security bot barged in.

"Our oil bees have called in allies to drive us away! The enemy fleet is on the way, and it looks powerful! We've radioed for military backup; you get in front of that Face and ask for divine help!" The Security bot left immediately afterwards, clearly agitated, and disappeared into what was now a scene of troops running around and taking battle formations.

Loyal Star went outside into the night and used his telescopic vision to try to see the enemy. He couldn't see its smaller craft very well, but there was no missing the two, 3-mile-long capital ships within their formation. Even some of these ships' cannons were visible to his vision's magnification.

Looking around him now, with regular vision, he could see that the veteran soldiers looked like they were used to this sort of thing. Though they ran to their formations with urgency, they didn't have the "OMG now what" air that the first-year conscripts did. One yelled over, "Welcome to the REAL WORLD" as he caught Loyal Star staring, but did not stop.

Soon, the entire sky was lit with blue light, and what looked like three minor divisions dropped out of FTL. Expertly, they formed up on the ground. Trainers among them began to shout orders. They were to use two Mass Defense groupings to attack the capital ships, and one large, but diffused, batch of troops would take on the minor craft. Meanwhile, a large number of troops would stay behind and defend the base from the ground and low atmosphere.

At this point, Loyal Star went back inside the Temple, and prayed to Megatron for blessings upon this operation. As he did so, all of the sounds in a 100-square-mile area were drowned out by the massive roar of tens of thousands of Decepticons transforming and taking off at once. Soon, the giant groups would be within firing range of the enemy capital ships, and the battle would begin.

[Vallermoore]

Staging Area

Loyal Star wanted to transform and join the battle, but instead he did exactly what he was told. He hoped one day, even if it took centuries and a lot of patience, he would once more rise in rank to Planetary Priest, the Megatronist equivalent of a bishop or a cardinal. He silently sent up a prayer to Megatron asking for help and explaining the situation carefully, then watched the sky from the door of his Temple. If any invaders made it to the base itself-then he would blast them and get involved but would not pursue them more then a few hundred feet. Noone would think it wrong if he fought in such circumstances. What he wouldn't do was fly off and join the battle without an order to do so. He had got in serious trouble in the past, so he was going to keep his head down and obey orders and that way nothing could go wrong.

Vintage's Shop

Vintage was slightly annoyed that the mind and motion boards had not been taken out first, but not enough to stop him buying these high quality undamaged almost new bodies. Soon enough the boards had been taken out and the danger of an owner mind transferring to one of them was over. "Make sure you trash the boards the next time you get forms like this. Otherwise, 'someone' may enter them and take your head off when you least expect it. It's a good idea to paint them other colors, too, so that their original source doesn't recognize them as you go walking around in the open with them. You're brave to wear a pony's mark around here, but if you managed to get into the ICC, you must have some skills, so I suppose you won't be in the foundry tonight. Still, you're new here. If you're going to do something other than raid, it'll take some creative thinking to get the job done. We're used to every sort of top-level con." At least for now and most likely for a long time to come, wearing a decal like it was a cutie mark was legal under Decepticon law, but it was dangerous. Some bots, Genociders in particular, had a hatred of ponies and would see a decal cutie mark as like a red rack to a biological bull, others would assume a former pony could be conned easily. The ICC decal however showed that this bot was tough and could fight and take care of himself. In the far future, if enough former ponies became Decepticons to form a large community and they all started wearing decal cutie marks, Megatron might make it illegal, but right now he couldn't care less about it, although the Military most likely would and the Genociders most certainly would. When Pesticide reported for duty assuming he survived that long, his very first order was likely to be an angry one to "Take off that Pony crap."

In the Street

Pesticide's body was clearly new which gave the con away at once, and after he took the Cube, the battle began, Pesticide holding back on the lightning for now as it was near useless against a bot with an intact Faraday cage, and doing quite a bit of dodging. The kind of fusion cannon Demolisher was using was slightly easier to dodge then blaster fire and had a slightly slower fire rate, but if it hit twice in the same place, it would go straight through Pesticide, the first hit just dearmouring the area. With a spare body Pesticide's chances of death was less unless his foe turned a jammer on, but none the less, the danger was real. Pesticide accepted the chance of death whilst fighting for the ICC and didn't let it bother him. A fusion cannon blast hit his chest, and burned away a large hole, vaperizing the armour there.
His own blasts were doing some damage as well, and he let loose a lightning blast. If nothing else, it might surprise his foe for a few seconds.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Staging Area

After saying his prayers, Loyal Star went back outside to watch the battle. By now, the swarms of Decepticons had gotten into fighting range, and space was lit by the light of their energy blasts. Hundreds of thousands of blasts per minute literally lit up the capital ships, and all around them, the smaller ships showed up as tiny (as seen from this distance) explosions. However, to Loyal Star's dismay, he also recognized the color of exploding Energon, meaning that some of the troops were being blown up as well. He also realized, to his horror, that the giant ships didn't seem to be taking anything but superficial damage.

Suddenly, a huge blast of light was plainly visible, followed by another. When the light faded, there were far fewer Decepticons in specific areas in space. The capital ships' main cannons had outright vaporized them.

Without a pause, the remaining swarm spread out, but now, they focused on the smaller ships. The capital ships now couldn't fire without hitting their own, but it turned out that this was just a side-benefit to the new strategy that had been ordered over a secret frequency. The real goal was to be able to focus on the large ships without the danger of the small ships taking pot-shots from the flanks.

This part of the strategy worked, but now, the capital ships' cannons had recharged and they fired again. These blasts took out a couple of thousand more Decepticon troops. It was clear that major backup was needed, and the call went out to the Main Base over the radio. Meanwhile, troops on the ground rushed to get the artillery targeted. Soon, the troops in space spread out to leave a clear firing path from the planet to the capital ships, and the loud zapping sounds of Decepticon SAECs (Surface-to-Air Energy Cannons) ripped through the outpost's air. These, Loyal Star saw, did at least cause some serious damage to the capital ships' hulls, though it would take several strikes to get through the armor.

Suddenly, two small FTL swirls were seen low in the atmosphere. Loyal Star immediately knew that whoever it was, was either great at aeronautics or was crazy. It didn't take long for the light to fade and the identities of the arriving two were known - and they were great at aeronautics. They slowed themselves in the nick of time and made pinpoint landings without putting too much extra strain on their legs. General Shockwave and Leader Megatron had arrived.

Shockwave immediately found an open area of ground and transformed into space cannon mode. In this mode, his energy blasts were 10x as strong as those of the regular artillery. He immediately started firing, and the recoils shook the ground as he did so. In space, the capital ships were heavily damaged, and before long, Shockwave had holed both of their hulls. Though this damage didn't bring an instant win, it did force them into emergency modes and cause several of their internal compartments to be automatically sealed off to prevent the loss of too much oxygen. A few strange-looking crew members were in the affected parts of their ships, without space suits, and their helpless bodies were quickly sucked out through the holes.

After a couple of more blasts, it was clear that the capital ships were no longer as responsive as they had been. Some of their cannons no longer attempted to track targets, and a few of the visible barrels were outright melted. Alas, blasting with that much power used a huge amount of Energon, so after this, Shockwave had to cease fire.

Now, the familiar sound of energized booming began to ring out, one blast after another. Megatron had begun to fire his fusion cannon. He expertly hit and re-hit every place that the base artillery and Shockwave had already hit, turning minor damage into major - and then catastrophic - devastation. He used his divine power to keep his cannon going, and as he did so, he also manifested a few Cubes of Supreme for Shockwave so he could join back in.

It seemed like this battle was all but wrapped up, but suddenly, one of the capital ships aimed one of its few still-working cannons right at the base and fired at full power. Loyal Star didn't even have time to move when the energy engulfed the staging area in bright whitish-yellow light.

When his CPUs caught up, he realized that this blast could have taken out the entire central area of the base, but instead of doing so, it had been deflected by an invisible shield dome. That wasn't part of the base's normal defense capabilities, and one look at Megatron's now-smug face let everyone know who had generated that defense. Once the light faded, it became clear that Megatron had still been blasting back, and now, he had managed to hit something highly explosive inside both of the remaining enemy ships. They drifted in space with huge holes in their hulls showing that they'd been blown up from the inside, and charred alien bodies floated along outside them like withered seeds from a dying tree.

Megatron was now taunting them over the radio on all frequencies, so Loyal Star could easily detect his jeers and commands for the enemy to go away before he turned their planet into a giant mine with them as the slaves. The enemy, however, could not go away - the engines of its ships had been destroyed. Megatron's blasts had penetrated their engine rooms and detonated the fuel within, which caused the explosions that had blown out the rest of those rooms' walls.

With no other choice but death, the few remaining enemy troops surrendered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The atmosphere in the base was a combination of somber and jubilant, depending on who you looked at, as the POWs were marched down the main street like trophies. Their thick, wrinkled skin was clearly visible as they kept their heads bowed in defeat, and it easily resisted the damage from the heavy shackles that had been placed around their necks, wrists, and ankles. They were easily 10 feet tall, and appeared to have a few technological implants. A round electronics-style port was visible at the top of each one's head, and another was at their chests. They would certainly be getting plenty of attention from Decepticon scientists soon.

About an hour later, an announcement came over the base's PA system. All but one deactivated Decepticon was now accounted for either at the Main Save Vault or found in the regular disk-based Saves that soldiers sometimes made, and restorations were in progress. The somber attitude immediately lifted, and cheers of victory shook the buildings. Whoever the one was, he was immediately derided as a "flawless wrecker" and cursed out. How could anyone not have made their own Save before a battle just in case they didn't make it back to the Vault?! It was idiocy!

No one knew who it was yet, and they didn't care. If that one guy had been more on the ball, everyone could have said that NO Decepticon lives were lost. Since Megatron was right there, several people asked him point-blank to send the guy to the Realm of Punishment for his foolishness. Leader Megatron didn't make any promises one way or the other - he knew that the soldier hadn't intentionally set himself up to stay dead, but he didn't want to spoil the base's otherwise-happy mood by telling him that the Neutral Realm would be the actual destination of the unlucky soldier.

As Megatron headed into the Base Command building, he turned and gave Loyal Star a little nod. It had been Loyal Star's connection that had let him know that things had been going wrong. After the first prayer came through, Megatron had begun to pay attention to the psychic energy generated by the priest as he watched the battle. This energy had gone from conveying disappointment at not being part of the fray, to excitement from watching the firing start...and then to horror as he saw so many troops get vaporized. It was that horror-energy that had let Megatron know that it was a good time to pay a personal visit to the base.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the Street, Cybertron

The lightning blast did indeed surprise Demolisher, who paused for a moment. He intended to laugh next, for he recognized it as pony magic and figured that his opponent was surely a wimp, but then he saw the ICC seals on the front of Pesticide's wings. This shocked him even more than the lightning, but now, he started to get a mocking grin. "The ICC must be on its way out," he taunted, "to have to resort to using a glorified PONY as a 'problem-solver!' Haw haw haw!" Demolisher aimed his cannon at Pesticide's chest again, intending to take out his motion-boards and then drag him to a foundry so he could be melted down alive for daring to oppose him.

[Vallermoore]

In the Street, Cybertron

Demolisher had come up against ponies before in the attack on Equestria and wasn't impressed in the least. Pesticide stopped using lightning in case it fried him, and switched to teleportation, getting in several shots on his foe that way from behind him, damaging his armour a bit. The other bot backed up against a wall, and then Pesticide found himself in his only spare, a scout body. Many bots would have given up on the contract, but Pesticide was determined to go through with it or die. He had more then enough RAM to know that if he went up against Demolisher in this body he would be outright killed very quickly, having no more Spares to go to. Clearly, force wouldn't work as he didn't have anywhere near as much Energon to buy the tougher and better armed body that would be needed. But perhaps being deceptive and conniving would. He went with enough Cubes to an ICC shop and explained that he had suffered unfortunate results when trying to carry out an ICC contract. He wanted to buy a chip that would give him workable ideas for killing a foe that had a strong body and a fusion cannon, mentioning that he tried the poisoned Cube trick unsuccessfully. If he were to carry out his contract and show the ICC that he was a reliable bot that was worth having on their payroll, he would need to be deceptive and conniving, and he only had one more shot at it.

Staging Area

Loyal Star went out to watch the battle, confident that there would be a Decepticon victory. A few bots would no doubt lose their bodies, but that was to be expected. However, to his growing unease and then utter horror, thousands of bots were losing their bodies. He prepared for the worst-to fight until he found himself in the Military Save Vault if they broke through, as to him running away in such a case was not an option. If jamming had been running, then it would have been different-sacraficing oneself was a minus in Megatronism and if fleeing was the only way to escape certain death or capture, it was the right thing to do. When losing a body just meant going to a spare, then fighting to the end in a battle like this was indeed the right thing to do. He had to turn on his Bravery Up to stand fast, and that was when two FTL swirls came in, and revealed themselves to be General Shockwave and Leader Megatron.Shockwave turned into Space Cannon mode and did some real damage to those capital ships. Leader Megatron used his mighty fusion cannon to blast them as well. Loyal Star saw the area was now free of Decepticons, and blasted his own blasters at the capital ships-and as a Priest doing his duty against the foe, holy fusion fire came out and inflicted at least a little damage on the capital ships as well.

A blast came directly at the base, and Loyal Star inwardly prepared to lose his body from a direct hit, only to have Megatron's godly power form a force field around it. Soon Megatron began to taunt the foe, grinning, and Loyal Star-and the other bots-now were jubilant that the danger was over. Soon enough the few survivors were chained up as there were no body control chips handy and marched off into captivity by the jeering bots. Megatron saw Loyal Star and gave him a little nod-a nod that said "You were right in this case to call for my help." Without his and Shockwave's intervention, the base would have fallen along with all the garrison's bodies. Loyal Star felt relieved. He had done the right thing. Throughout both his clerical careers, from when he was a Ponyist foal without a cutie mark, to his life as a Megatronist Decepticon, he had always wanted to do the right thing, and that was one thing that had never changed. Debugging had noticed it and left that trait well alone.

A check was made to see if everyone was OK. All but one Decepticon would soon be back in a new body, free of charge as they had lost their bodies preforming Military duty. There were victory cheers, and also hate expressed against that one bot, to the point that many bots openly asked Megatron to send him to the Realm of Punishment. Despite being both a God, and their Leader, Megatron, unlike many leaders, did not despise his people. He could have been a very remote figure if he wanted to who never had anything to do with any bot below the High General level, but that would be a sure way over enough time to rust his popularity. He was no King Coal. He led from the front, and in a true emergency if the information was important enough, any bot could give it and not be punished for it. This existed through the Military as a whole, and made it very adaptable, unlike ossified biological militaries where a piece of news might need to go up or an order go down through long layers of officers and NCOs and take hours or even days to reach it's destination.

[Victorious Decepticons]

ICC Store

The clerk at the counter was very tempted to charge the bootlegger's rate of 100,000 Cubes for the chip when he saw that Pesticide didn't know better, but was afraid of being killed by the Mob for engaging in connivery that could jeopardize a mission. Therefore, after confirming Pesticide's story via a secret communication channel, he grudgingly said "stuff like this is what that 60% cut covers." He reached under the counter and pulled out two chips, which he then skidded across the counter.

"Never mind those for now, though," the clerk said. "A bit of logic can outdo chip-learning at times, at least if you've got your CPUs in right. And logically, judging by that not-yet-customized scout body, your quarry is now walking toward a foundry with one arm and shoulder carrying your old body, and the other arm ready to blast anyone that tries to take it." The clerk came out from behind the counter and led Pesticide over to a wall covered with shelves full of military-style bombs.

"My suggestion is that you drop one of these right on his head." He pulled a fairly small bomb off the shelf. It would fit perfectly under a scout's wing, provided the right bracket was available. " Scout bodies come with decent stealth capabilities right from the start, so you should be able to glide silently into range before he realizes you're there..." He handed the bomb to Pesticide, whose body, it turned out, did have the needed bracket.

Outside, Pesticide looked at the titles printed on the housings of the chips. One wasThe Full Series on Deception in Single Combat, which, if it was an actual copy of the one put out by the Victory Institute, would represent a value of 1,000,000 Cubes; and the other one was A Compilation of ICC Successes. The first chip, of course, hadn't cost the ICC any million Cubes. It was a bootleg and likely had been copied so many times that it only cost the price of the physical chip hardware.

It was now up to Pesticide whether to install the data now - and miss the chance to bomb the target while he still had his hands full - or go bomb him before he made it to the local foundry.

~~~~~~~~~~

Staging Area

It wasn't long before Decepticon Military scientists figured out that the captives had been the ones responsible for controlling the enemy ships and their main cannons. The ports on their bodies matched jacks found in the remains of the ships. Most of the ships' functions were manually controlled, though, showing that the direct-control system was somewhat new - at least by the standards of the enemy military. Megatron knew that it was possible for the tech toto have been around for years, with the enemy military simply being too hidebound or cautious to go ahead and do a full retrofit of its ships.

Soon, General Soundwave arrived with a pair of ForIntel interrogators. They would pry as much data as possible from the captives, and when they had it all, execute them as enemies of the state.

After a short conversation with the spymaster, Megatron and Shockwave went back to Cybertron. All there was left for Loyal Star to do tonight was give a victory sermon and then enjoy a celebratory Cube of Supreme along with the troops.

[Vallermoore]

ICC Store

Although the clerk badly wanted to overcharge Pesticide, visions in his mind boards of what the ICC might do to him for messing up an ICC mission stopped him doing it. The Decepticon Mob was even more violent then most Decepticons as a whole and much more willing to perma-kill somebody. Pesticide decided to use a bomb to try and kill his target, who had not yet found out that his Saves and Spares were gone. He turned on his cloaking and flew out to where he found his foe walking with his old body over his head. He went relatively low, and then dropped the bomb so it was falling directly towards his foe's head.

With luck, his foe would soon be exploded into fragments and his contract would have been fulfilled. Every time he was successful for the ICC, he would be seen as more reliable by it's members. Soon enough his draft papers would come in, and the Decepticon Military would feed him. If he was able to get into the Genocide Battalion, rations would also not be a problem, and he could serve Carjack unless he was stupid enough or unlucky enough to some day get killed. Whilst death was no longer certain, in battle against high tech foes it was a possibility. As for the Realm of Punishment, he had no intention of ending up there. Dying in itself was not a big enough minus to be sent there-if it was, it would bring fear of death to the Decepticon Nation so much that it would weaken it.

Staging Area

Loyal Star did a sermon pointing out that if the danger to the interests of the Decepticon Nation were strong enough, Megatron would indeed intervene, and most divine beings either could not or would not do so, as well as general praise of the Leader, and it was a reasonably good, short and concise one. All the bots liked or at least didn't detest it, except one who was playing a game in his mind boards during the sermon, thinking he would surely get away with it. In most cases he would have done, but he was at a military base and Milintel noticed it.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Demolisher clearly had a bit of a spring in his step as he carried his loot to the foundry. He had beaten an ICC problem solver! He chuckled to himself as he thought of how much money his old foe must have wasted hiring the guy, only to have his problem remain unsolved. He noticed how even the pedestrians seemed to be staying far away from him now, and figured that they must be afraid. He was, after all, carrying a blasted-up body with ICC insignia.

He was, he would soon learn, only half right. The people were afraid, but not of him. They were expecting - correctly - that there would be violence coming from the Commission. A fly-by blasting, a rocket attack, or a straightforward assault by a gang of enforcers...anything like that was possible.

Demolisher was still lost in the thrill of victory when Pesticide dropped his bomb. It wasn't until the last half second that the familiar whizzing noise of falling ordnance made it through to his consciousness. Normally, he could have fired upward and detonated the bomb while it was still too high to damage him, but now, Pesticide's old body was in the way. Demolisher tried to drop it, but this move took just a bit too long. Demolisher, disgruntled at this, consciously activated his mind-transfer script just as the bomb exploded. It easily took off his head, and the shockwave tore through the firewall between it and his neck. The ball of fire from the bomb was then easily able to melt the motion boards below, along with the personality chip that Demolisher had hidden in a false "floor" just above the next compartment.

Needless to say, Demolisher never got into a spare body. His radio transmission simply faded out, and his soul, unable to find a body that it could inhabit, transferred to the next realm.

Below, the pedestrians watched warily. They hoped that the invisible assassin would leave the bodies behind so they could cash them in themselves, but didn't dare move in yet since they didn't want to anger anyone from the ICC. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the Syndicate was indeed responsible for the hit, cloaked or not - after all, the body Demolisher had been carrying had their seal on its wings...

Staging Area

There was no way for automated surveillance to know if someone was playing a game when all he was supposed to be doing was looking forward, but an observant MilIntel agent in the same service knew what he was looking at. The complete lack of response to key points in the sermon was the giveaway. He decided to say nothing official - there was no critical information being passed on during this feel-good propaganda speech. Later, though, he would give the soldier an unofficial chiding and warn that on-duty troops should always keep some processing threads open so that they could hear and react to any alarms that went off.

[Vallermoore]

When the other bots saw Demolisher walking along with a bot marked with the insignia of the ICC, they stayed well clear of him. It was no secret that the ICC took a dim view of unfortunate results and generally tried to rectify them as soon as possible. When Pesticide dropped his bomb, it blew Demolisher up and his spirit had no body to transfer to and ended up in the afterlife. Pesticide swooped down and transformed, took his old body, still invisible (but his old body was visible) and left Demolisher's fractured body and severed head behind for the other bots. Once he reached a foundry he went visible again and soon sold the body, except the metal cutie mark that he put on his new body. He was pleased with himself; he had once more served the ICC with gusto. Soon after getting his pay however his draft notice came in, and he had to hand over his ICC insignia. "You are not out in bad standing-it's just that the draft comes to us all and we don't want to lose a useful killer like you to Domintel. When you come back, if you do, your position will be open for a full year after your draft period ends without having to fight your way back in. If you take any longer to rejoin you'll have to impress us again," said the capo who took the insignia. "I and our Boss hope you do return, you have what it takes to be an ICC problem solver."

After putting his Cubes in a secure vault, Pesticide put his metal cutie mark in the vault too. He knew if he turned up wearing that, his very first order would be to put it in the base's furnace. Whilst in civilian life it was legal to wear unless and until Megatron decided otherwise, under military law he wouldn't have that leeway. It would be like turning up at the base wearing another country's military uniform. He reported soon afterwards and was assigned to the trainees who were going to serve under General Carjack. First they needed to go through Decepticon boot camp, however. Pesticide obeying orders marked him out as an immigrant early on, and he wondered to himself if the other bots secretly hated him for this, as he was the only one that day not to get dented by the trainers. He knew that in human or pony units on other planets, those seen as goodie goodies tended to get hazed by the other soldiers or at the least to never get any friends.

Staging Area

Luckily for the bot he just got a short private telling off. If he had been playing a game when Megatron was there and saying something important, like the details of a planned raid or battle, things could have been harsher. Loyal Star returned to normal base life, helping sick bots get to Debugging if that was needed, doing manual work when ordered to, and of course doing all the jobs of a base chaplain, happy that in this small way he was serving Megatronism.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Regional Military Intake Office
Oilfountain Base

When Pesticide arrived at the recruiting office to check in, he was greeted with smiles (just like everyone else who didn't come in complaining) and the preliminary paperwork was done. In the next room, the check-in mechanic was not so happy. He was using a non-mil-spec scout body, which meant that the Military would have to do a full replacement. "No need to even open up those panels," the mechanic grumbled. "Report to the Transfer Building. It's the second hangar you see after you leave here." He pointed at a back door.

Outside, Pesticide saw several worker-type troops walking around at purposeful, but not overly-brisk, speeds. The Decepticon Military didn't like to put on an atmosphere of being in an actual hurry - hurrying was seen as evidence of poor planning. Good planning left enough time to get things done without a big rush. Only an attacking enemy, or a drill simulating such a situation, could get the troops as a whole to truly hurry around.

He quickly found the Transfer Building and went in. Inside, there were rows of huge, body-sized lockers on two walls, and one row of shiny new bodies on another wall. A couple of attentive-looking low-level mechanics stood waiting. There was no way to know that just a moment before, these two had been lollygagging around playing cards and gossiping. A proximity alarm had let them know someone was coming, and that's when they put on their professional attitudes.

"Pick a real body," they instructed. Obviously, they did not consider a base-level scout form to be real enough to count. "We'll key it to accept you, and then you transfer into it. Unless ordered otherwise by a commanding officer, you'll then use that body for the duration of your military service. Your old body goes into one of the lockers for now, but it will soon be moved to one of the big warehouses. Be sure to take anything out of the panels that you want to keep with you before it gets locked up."

While the Military itself insisted on standardization for the sake of the combination of cost savings and logistics, it was clear that these two mechanics were body-type snobs. One outright snooted up his nose at the cheap one Pesticide was using.

Pesticide stared at the row of new bodies. Every one of them was exactly the same except for the paint jobs. This made it easy to fix any damage from a single inventory of standardized parts. All of the bodies gleamed from their factory wax, and their Decepticon Seals and mil-spec blasters were especially well-shined. Each body also looked like it had a notably thicker layer of housing than the lower-end store ones.

He was a bit wowed at being able to just pick one - they were clearly quite expensive by open-market standards. He guessed that it would cost a good 25 million Cubes to buy one like this from a store. As he looked, he also realized the importance of the non-uniform-style paint jobs. Since the faces were all made from the same mold, just like the rest of the parts, the only way to tell one person from another was by the paint. While some paint jobs were similar to each other, the Military made sure that no two troops looked exactly the same - and that the difference could be seen without having to search for it.

After choosing one, he was directed to report to the new conscripts' area. His old body was, as promised, put into a secure locker. Since he couldn't see into the other lockers, he didn't know that just a few doors down, Coin's usual body stood. While Coin's body was good for street fighting and gang warfare, it was nonstandard. It was also deemed too unmaneuverable for air battles. Somewhere on the base, he was now in a standard-issue form - and, most likely, in a very raw mood because of it.

Of course, neither of the two would be able to recognize each other by looking. Both were now in new bodies, which included new voice chips. Still, people who knew each other from the outside tended to find out who was who eventually, usually by something one of them said or just by chance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staging Area

Loyal Star was soon bored again after the battle ended, and he sighed dejectedly as he went about various temple-tidying tasks in between services.

Much to his surprise, one day a new recruit came to deliver an envelope. To his delight, when he opened it, it contained the order he had been occasionally praying for: to report to the Main Temple on Cybertron for assessment and possible re-assignment. He was to do this in one week, which would give the Temple time to get a replacement chaplain out to this base and get him settled in. While Loyal Star almost certainly would not be promoted to a higher priestly rank after his current softball assignment, perhaps he would get to spread Megatronism to new people and places once more!

[Vallermoore]

Staging Area

Soon enough things were back to normal, and Loyal Star was bored quite a bit of the time. He did play the occasional game, but most of the time he did Temple tasks or read his book of Megatron in between services. It was very like when he had been a pony priest in the minor tasks that needed to be done. He could think things of this sort without at once getting in trouble because one of the few freedoms that Decepticons had was freedom of thought. Domintel needed some sort of proof of something treasonous before they could hack someone's mind boards, and Debugging was banned from narking even for serious treasonous thoughts. So if Loyal Star thought something that might be minor heresy, as long as he kept it to himself he would be fine. One day a new recruit brought a letter on foil-paper-to report to the Main Temple on Cybertron for assessment and possible re-assignment. Loyal Star grinned and his eyes brightened. He was close to full rehabilitation. It might be decades or centuries before he was promoted, but unless he was either very stupid or extremely unlucky, he could live eternally. And in the case of massive bad luck, he would probably end up in the Realm of Pleasure. Of course he hoped to live for ever, but because of the violence of Decepticon society this was not guaranteed.

A week later he flew out to Cybertron. The raiders saw him and his Priestly paint and let him go. Priests of Megatron who caused no trouble and kept to themselves but were still attacked could fry their foes with fusion fire, as a few raiders had found out the hard way when they thought they could raid the Temples of Megatron and that Megatronist Priests would be weak bots. When he got there High Priest Warfire was waiting, and he didn't seem angry this time. Loyal Star did have to kneel in front of a Face of Megatron, but he passed the test fully. Warfire told him "You have rehabilitated yourself, and I have a new mission for you, that involves converting a large Changeling Hive to Megatronism. Their ways, of all biologicals, are already the closest to ours." Loyal Star grinned and wondered what the details of the mission would be and if he would be with another Priest or on his own.

Regional Military Intake Office
Oilfountain Base

Pesticide would need a new, fully mil-spec body as his scout one would not be good enough. The Decepticon Military did use scout bodies but only when needed. He emptied the panels of the few things in them and soon mind transfered. One of the mechanics was clearly a bit of a snob and thought that Pesticide's body was inferior. Soon he was in a new body. Unknown to him, Coin had been called up for a stint. Since Decepticons could and often did live a long time, they had more then one stint through their lives. Coin's old body was also put in storage as it was nonstandard and not good enough for air battles. He was in a grumpy mood; even IOPC capos had to obey Military orders. When he saw Pesticide obeying orders, he decided to introduce himself under a made up name at a good time for it. If this was Pesticide, he might give his true name as he didn't think he needed to hide from anyone here. He had a huge dislike for Pesticide, who by beating him in battle-and killing him-he needed to be brought back from a Save-had lowered his rank in the IOPC.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Oilfountain Military Base

At first glance, a bot approaching didn't seem like anything out of the ordinary. However, when Coin acted really friendly, Pesticide was immediately suspicious. He, being pretty much the opposite of a "good Ponyist" all his life, had spent plenty of time among his planet's so-called "unsavory" elements: Gang members, drug dealers and users, and general ruffians. By the way the mystery bot had walked, and his tendency to unconsciously hold his blasters at the half-ready, the other bot gave himself away as another who was well familiar with the mean streets. Pesticide immediately became just as ready for trouble.

Right away, Coin introduced himself with a fake name and asked for Pesticide's name in return. "Meltdown," Pesticide lied boldly. He'd heard that Meltdown was the most common name on Cybertron, so it offered the dual benefits of being somewhat believable and very hard to track. Lying about his name to suspicious types was already second nature to him, so the pseudonym was easy to say without hesitating.

"You came from over there," Pesticide noted, pointing at the training area for returning troops. "You must have been in the Military before. Have you done many stints? What can I expect here in boot camp?"

~~~~~~~~

First Temple of Cybertron

Loyal Star may have hoped for a solo assignment, but that wouldn't be happening any time soon. It was decided that he needed much more training for field assignments - and for someone to be right there to correct any incorrect procedures before they could cause trouble.

For this mission, he would be using a body sized to easily navigate the changeling hive, but other than that, he would be operating openly as a Decepticon. "We can't have them thinking that we are anything but proud of who we are," Warfire explained, "and they wouldn't be wowed by our one-disguise undercover forms anyway. Plus, the wider nation around them is foolish enough to have freedom of religion." Warfire chuckled and handed over a small booklet. "You've even got legit visas for this missionary trip! Just be sure you don't get caught demonstrating the Decepticon Way."

Loyal Star took the relatively tiny document with a polite smile. "One question," he said, "who does this hive usually worship?"

Loyal Star figured that he wouldn't have to ask what planet the hive was on or how to get there. After all, that much was essential information.

[Vallermoore]

First Temple of Cybertron

"You'll be going with your friend, an experienced Priest called Fire Eater who can make sure that all goes well. Now, Changelings are very tricky-much like we are. They might well offer you jewels, gold, or even some form of Energon to drop your anti-changeling shielding and allow access to your love of Megatron, Cybertron and all things Decepticon. Given that you will be in their Hive, even if the offers are genuine, don't. The danger of them getting greedy, draining it all and sending you pinging back to Cybertron as a stream of data packets is too great. Up until now they have worshipped F-rafa, the First Changeling, a changeling goddess said to be of enormous size. I'm allowed to tell you that Megatron encountered this goddess and it tried to drain him so he killed it. It's not classified-why would a victory over a quite powerful goddess be classified?-but he never got around to making it public and no press of any kind was around to record it. The document has the planet location and where the Hive is to be found. I wish you luck and success."

Loyal Star gave a deep bow of respect to High Priest Warfire and left, happy to be with his friend who had befriended him even when he was just a mere sapient pony, who was waiting for him just outside the room. The two gave a middle range bow to each other, the equivlent of a friendly hug for biologicals.

Oilfountain Military Base

As a pony, Pesticide had spent time around the sort of ponies-and humans-who didn't like the Pony Way, so Coin's friendlyness gave him away as potential trouble. Pesticide introduced himself as Meltdown, and asked how things went here. Coin replied "At first, things are quite easy with non-political dissent. If full Decepticon law applied from the start, the foundry owners would be very happy, and the Generals would be very unhappy as they would only have immigrants to conquer the universe with, which would barely be enough to defend Cybertron let alone take over anywhere new. Act up on day one or even day two and they will dent you and make you hammer the dents out. After that, things get stricter. Carry on acting up and you get held down and given a hack virus for up to a month. As you get better trained and more used to discipline, the death penalty is on the table for a serious military offence, although rarely used. I was there though when one Shadow of Death got executed for trying to make a whole platoon crash."

"In general, you start with standing to attention and marching, then shooting at targets, formation flying and the like, and some time on anti traitor duty. Then you go fully trained to a regiment based on how well you did and what you are best at. All the Generals are quite strict, but General Carjack is the strictest. They are not so strict that they consider us to be like used oil filter paper and below their notice. Given the right circumstances, even a barely trained bot can point out something to a General and as long as the reason is good enough no punishment happens. Not like biological generals who in most cases have nothing to do with their soldiers or even their junior officers and never go into battle in the front rank. When we go to war, the Generals and of course our God Himself allways fly at the front and show their bravery.If you are lucky you might get to be picked for a Military Raid. If you get blown up, you end up restored from the Save Vault and punishment almost never happens unless you did something supremely stupid to get blown up. At worst, you generally lose out on your loot share unless you can get into a new body and fly back in time."

"There is one unit that I woulden't reccomend joining-the Genocide Battalion. They do get leave periods, but are normally banned from raiding by themselves in case they spark off some huge unwanted intersteller war. They spend their lives, when not on leave or on active duty, in the barracks playing games or training and the like. Their entire lives are spent in military service. I'm not against conscription of course, but to spend one's entire life in the Military? Not much fun from my point of view. If you do meet them, they are a bit grumpy and trigger happy if they don't know you well."

[Victorious Decepticons]

Oilfountain Military Base

Pesticide was impressed with the amount of knowledge he was freely given, but when Coin said not to join the Genocide Battalion, he didn't hide his disagreement. "That's actually the group I came here to join," he said with some firmness. "I even left my home world to do it. How could you NOT want to join a group that lets you eradicate foes by the thousands, without any need for trials or nonsense, and get rewarded for it? On other planets, they try to hunt you down if you're a killer. In the Genocide Battalion, they give you Private Reserve..." He got a dreamy look, still not knowing that the person he was talking to was Coin.

"They do not give you Private Reserve!" Coin scoffed. "Well, not unless you get a 'high score.' Who told you that, the recruiting office?" Coin laughed. "Look here, Meltdown - most of the time, the Genociders don't get to do anything more than we do. They're probably the most bored specialist group in the Military next to the factory workers. It is good for their egos when they get leave and everyone is afraid of them, but that's about the only perk unless there's actually some enemy that needs to be totally eradicated." Coin obviously didn't know of the group's last order, which involved wiping out a planet's sapient life simply to secure an area for a large base.

At this point, a trainer yelled for Pesticide to get into formation for some flight drills. The two went their separate ways for now, each wondering who the other really was and what they were into. Coin, who had originally accepted that the new bot's name was Meltdown, now knew for sure that he was, at least, a foreigner. He also knew that he had been talking not only to a killer, but one who truly enjoyed being one. That Pesticide guy signed up as a problem solver, Coin thought silently to himself. It would be the perfect civilian gig for someone who liked to kill and didn't mind taking orders. Still, he didn't have any evidence that "Meltdown" was actually Pesticide. The Genocide Battalion, after all, had space for 10,000 troops - and rarely had openings. This meant that Pesticide was hardly the only one who could fit this description.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First Temple of Cybertron

"We're going to be making a little stop before we take off," Fire Eater said to Loyal Star after initial pleasantries were exchanged. "I can't say more in case of spies intercepting the DomIntel surveillance feeds, so follow me."

Loyal Star nodded with extreme curiosity. What could be so secret that they needed to worry about someone sniffing, and managing to decrypt, what would ordinarily be picked up by a hidden DomIntel mic?

Soon, they were flying over a lower-middle class area of Decepticon Headquarters, and after slowing down, they made pinpoint landings on a particular road. Directly to their right, Loyal Star saw, was a small-seeming shop with a well-done flat-panel sign that read "Replicator" and had the tagline "When it Absolutely Must be Indistinguishable From the Original." Above, near the roofline, was the simple word "Counterfeiter."

Fire Eater entered boldly, and Loyal Star followed behind. As soon as they walked through the single door, which was barely big enough for their wings, they were in true private. DomIntel did have bugs there, but Replicator had found them all and had connected them to feeds of AI-generated fake shop noise. They could hear none of the real activity. Of course, DomIntel had figured something was up and stationed an agent outside, but the soundproof faux-glass of the storefront kept him from hearing anything. In this case, though, the higher-ups of the government and Replicator had interests that were aligned, and the agents outside did not have clearance to know about this latest deal.

Soon, what appeared to be an old bot came to the counter. He was rusted in five places, and it looked like he had been dredged up out of some Earthian lake.

"So, do you think this will get my client into the Deep Six Mansion?" Replicator said from within the beat-up body. He grinned, and then did a spin to show off his handiwork. Loyal Star didn't know what he was talking about, but Fire Eater clearly did. The elder priest looked the form up and down in admiration and soon nodded approvingly.

"It's an exact match, right down to the voice," Fire Eater said. "But Deep Six also had plenty of traps set up in there. That body may let your client IN, but it may not let him back out..."

Replicator said simply, "That's beyond the scope of this contract. It's also why I charge in advance."

After some more banter, they got down to the point. Fire Eater had come to pick up a new device. Since they were now safe from being listened in on, he told Loyal Star what it was all about.

"We have always been interested in the changelings' ability to feed on emotions," he explained. "Yet it was deemed impractical to write a script that would allow us to duplicate that ability as a true in-system capability. It was also deemed unstrategic: Generals Carjack and Shockwave warned that a direct energy transfer that worked by magic would involve the use of an open port, and that this type of a port was often used by hackers to gain control of a psychic energy raider. While Carjack did say that it was possible to code a firewall that would allow for the transfer of pure energy while blocking unwanted data from entering, even he said that this solution was far from being 100% fail-safe. Therefore, we commissioned this..."

Fire Eater held up a small, mostly-round, shiny device that Replicator had just handed over. "IT is able to draw emotional energy and convert it to an electrical form that we can use. It gets connected to our system, but only the refined energy is able to come through it. It's basically a mechanical drawing device complete with a hardware firewall. While this is technically a beta version, we are reasonably certain that it will work. We are, however, going to be testing it against a similar device from the Bureau of Impossible Physics' Paranormal Research Division to see which one is superior."

Replicator spoke up. "I don't just make copies of things," he said. "One of the reasons I'm so valuable to the Empire is that I can make new designs that copy the effects of other things - things I've never had a chance to examine directly. That add-on there, in simple terms, copies the changelings' ability to raid psychic energy without getting hacked in the process. However, due to this client's request" he looked at Fire Eater - "it can also drain the energies of anger, hatred, pity, and a number of others. This makes it far more useful in hostile situations, where your foe is very unlikely to be feeling love. Oh, and it is certainly superior to whatever the Bureau of Going About Things the Hard Way came up with." He added the last sentence with a snort.

After this, he handed over another device. This one was a matte-black marble-like object with an obvious spot for connecting to the mind-boards as an internal part. Something about it seemed a bit evil.

Fire Eater took it, and then told Loyal Star, "After being told that it's possible to hack by projecting your will up the energy beam being drawn by a changeling or suchlike, we decided to commission a beta of a device to allow us to do just that. If this works properly - and it's a beta, so we can't be sure - any changeling who tries to drain us can find itself on the wrong end of that exploit the generals warned us about." He now had an evil grin.

After leaving Replicator's shop, they flew to the smallish building occupied by the Bureau of Paranormal Research. It was on the same grounds as the much-larger parent Bureau. Shockingly, the entire grounds now seemed to be covered with soft, green grass.

"Hey, check this out!" Fire Eater said excitedly as he bent down and grabbed a few blades. Loyal Star followed suit, looking confused. "Let's put our microscopic vision on it!"

What they saw with their microscopic vision both impressed and horrified them. The "grass," it turned out, was made up of millions of nanites. As Fire Eater caressed a single blade, the tiny machines shifted positions by adjusting simple graspers that let them hang onto each other, allowing them to bend and sway much like real grass. An even closer examination showed that the green color was the result of oxidation of a molecules-thick layer of a special copper-based alloy. From the macro perspective, it felt and behaved almost - but not quite - exactly like the real thing.

"Fascinating stuff, huh!" The two jumped and faced the speaker, who turned out to be a Bureau scientist on his break. "Can't say much about it, though. It was commissioned by one of the more-secret parts of the government. It will have many uses, though. And, you can relax. These nanites are not replicants, and they have no way to ingest solids, so they can't start devouring things even if their programming goes haywire."

Once they both expressed their awe at how biological-like the stuff was, they made their way into the Paranormal building. There, they were handed this Bureau's version of the psychic-energy raiding device. As Replicator had boasted, the Bureau's device - at least so far - seemed inferior. It was bigger, used a bit more energy to get it started, and just looked not as advanced. "There's only one thing that counts," said the Paranormal scientist, "and that's whether it works right when it's crunch time."

Outside, Fire Eater explained the plan. Since they were once again within range of DomIntel equipment, he didn't specifically name the items. "The plan is for each of us to have one of these items installed during our mission. At some point, someone will make himself our enemy. That's when we test the equipment. As for the Other Device I got, I'll be using that. There's only one of those so far. If someone suddenly converts or otherwise does something out of the ordinary, you'll know it worked. Just play along if that happens. Now, let's get the smaller bodies we need and head on over to that hive."

Suddenly, he stopped and turned. "Oh, one other thing. Leader Megatron has provided us with this." It was a DVD with what appeared to be professional printing. The printing said, "The Obliteration of F-rafa by Leader Megatron: Early Release."

Somewhere over at the Bureau of Propaganda, a copy of this disc was ready to play to the entire Decepticon Empire. Leader Megatron may have overlooked the broadcast of this event when it happened, being busy with the swirl of excitement that accompanied his deification, but High Priest Warfire had connected with him and brought it back to mind. Now, the problem was being rectified.

There having been no cameras around was no problem for most Decepticons, let alone the Decepticon Leader. Megatron had simply used his divine power and opened a tiny time-portal. Then, he stuck an equally-tiny camera lens through the opening to get the footage. Since making the recording did not change the events in question in any way, doing this did not cause a time paradox. Other Decepticons, of course, would have had to resort to the time-honored solution of forging it using the planet's excellent CGI technology.

[Vallermoore]

First Temple of Cybertron/Vavin

Loyal Star had a flashback in his mind boards to when he was a pony foal without even a cutie mark yet, and his father was explaining the dangers of Changelings. "The changelings are a foul, tricky, greedy race who steal our love, put us into cocoons given the chance, and cannot be trusted, not now, not ever." As a pony, he would have been far too scared to go to a Hive of changelings, be it open or concealed. But, he reminded himself, he was not a pony now, but a robot, and better then that, a
Decepticon bot, the best form of life in the multiverse. If things went really wrong and they came under outright attack, chitin was no match for blaster fire. Even if the worst happened and they had somehow found a way through anti-changeling shielding, the most that could happen is that he lost a body. And he trusted his shielding as it would not be in his God's interest to have Decepticons falling victim to love draining. As for selling his love, he would not be doing that. He was on duty, number one, and two, whilst it was not against the Decepticon Way, it was far too dangerous. It would be like logging onto a server full of malware and viruses and trying to stay unaffected, and when it came to Decepticon love, changelings were indeed greedy. Decepticon love was to them like Megatron's Private Reserve was to a Decepticon-rare and very valuable, and reserved for the Queens.

After installing the secret devices and examining some safe to touch nano-grass they headed out in FTL to the planet of Vavin, the second planet from it's star, and to the location they were given in a rocky area, cut with canyons. There was a castle there made of black stone, with no doubt many passages underneath, and waiting for them were thousands of changelings, with glistening green chitin that shone with health. Loyal Star wondered how such a Hive gathered so much love to feed itself with. Did they buy it? Were they raiders like the Decepticons? Did they "farm" love by having other non-changelings amongst them, like some ants farmed aphids? Their Queen, by biological standards, was surprisingly large,although still small from the point of view of a full size Decepticon. She and her Hive bowed politely to the mighty Decepticons as they transformed. "I am Queen Enigma and even though we are very far away-for now, at least, from the Decepticon Empire, Megatronism has spread through a large number of planets and we are interested in finding out about it. Your Way sounds very simerler in some ways to our Way, the Way of the Changeling."

"How is it that you Changelings are so many but so healthy and sleek?," asked Loyal Star using his Foreign Language Module to speak Changeling. He was not sure if he would get a truthful answer or indeed an answer at all. They might consider it classified and for Changeling ears only. His shielding felt a light pinging, not from the Queen, but from one of the lings and he started trying to follow it to it's source, since a random attack on the whole Hive was uncalled for. They were here to convert, not to kill and enslave.

Oilfountain Military Base

When Coin heard that Private Reserve was given to the Genocide Battalion, he scoffed at it. Perhaps some recruiter said it as a practical joke to try and get this bot conscripted for life, if he got in. Pesticide didn't hide his wish to be a Genocider and even gave away that he was born rather then made. He had a dreamy look at the thought of earning his Skull and Wrenches and serving under General Carjack, doing what he really wanted to do. Just then they were called away. Coin didn't know who he had really been talking to, but was slightly suspicious, but not enough to do anything more for now. They weeks passed and the drills became more interesting. Pesticide avoided having to wear a punishment band, and one day, a trainer told them that General Carjack was dropping in for a quick troop review. Pesticide grinned at the thought just of being reviewed by Carjack, in almost the same way that Loyal Star felt when he saw Megatron, even when Megatron was just flying by.

[Victorious Decepticons]

Oilfountain Base

General Carjack hadn't been out to this base in a long time, and though his visit was framed as having the purpose of reviewing the troops, he was actually there to check out a couple of specific soldiers. One had just been identified as a serial killer by DomIntel after a series of killings stopped upon his conscription for his 10th stint. This made him likely around 500 years old. Currently, a person only had to serve every 10 years, but in the time of the Great War, rotations happened far more often. The other soldier was that pony who had said he became a Decepticon specifically to get into the Genocide Battalion. Carjack wanted to see that guy in action, but he didn't want to admit he came for that. If he did, the newbie could get such a swelled head that he wouldn't listen to his current commanders, and that wouldn't be good.

On the day of his official arrival, the base was to put on a short airshow to demonstrate some of its skills. Pesticide wasn't in the show - only the most-experienced fliers were good enough to qualify - but he got to watch along with several others. Soon, he saw Carjack, who did plenty of aerobatics of his own before transforming into robot mode at what seemed to be way too great of a height. To the relief of Pesticide and the other first-time conscripts, Carjack fired his foot-jets at the last minute to make a soft landing on the special heat-proof stage that had been set up.

"I see that you have all been hard at work with your training," Carjack said to the assembled group. "Your base's aerobatic aces are up to snuff, as well." The general secretly looked for and soon spotted the two soldiers of interest, using the base's description of their paint jobs to do so. He was glad that Decepticon eye panels were great at hiding which directions he was looking in (assuming he didn't have to turn his head).

After making a few motivating, but somewhat empty, comments, Carjack made a surprise announcement. He wanted to take a supposedly-random group of troops out for field drills. Decepticon field drills typically simulated situations that could come up in wars, and the activities ranged from setting up camps or temporary derricks as fast as possible all the way to shooting at droids with live ammo, and everything in between. The one commanding a field drill typically gave the order once his group got to a specific site, though the plan was typically made (in secret) long before.

Carjack began to point at individuals in the gathered group, choosing an equal number (when possible) from each subgroup. There were 5 greenhorns, 5 with 2 stints, 5 from the subgroup with 3 stints, and so on. At this base, nobody had more than 10 stints. To almost everyone, Carjack's choices seemed totally random - and they were...except for two of the choices. One was Pesticide, and the other was the one pointed out to him by DomIntel for potential drafting into his Battalion. Carjack really couldn't care less about any of the others, who were not in consideration at this time. They were just there to hide the fact that he was really conducting a test for entry into the Genociders. He believed that doing the preliminary testing this way would provide a more reliable indicator of what he could expect from the two real candidates.

The General led the entire group that he had chosen to an area three levels underneath the surface of Cybertron, and everyone could see that this space had walls that had been reinforced with armor in the manner of an indoor range for high-powered ordnance. About a thousand human and pony-shaped non-sapient droids stood along one wall with their eyes closed. Like "off" Decepticon eyes, closed eyes on a bio-sim droid signaled that it was not currently running.

"While the Decepticon Military was originally formed to protect us from those who would extinguish the Decepticon Way, and from those who want their oil back, we have gone far beyond that mandate since the end of the War on Earth," Carjack said, now more serious than he had been while at the base. "One of the most prominent things we have done is begin to expand across the universe. The thing is, we often expand to places that are nominally owned by other species...at least, until we show up. Needless to say, we need to get them to submit to Decepticon rule - and the easiest and most efficient way to do this is to get rid of anyone who refuses."

Carjack took out a big, old-fashioned remote control and pressed one of its two buttons. Immediately, the droids activated, opened their eyes, and went into a formation like that of a crowd of protestors. They began to chant "INVADERS GO HOME - GO AWAY NOW" with realistic tones of voice. Many also got rolled-up signs out of their storage panels, unfurled them, and held them high. These protest signs said fairly generic things, like "invaders go home" and "democracy now." Sayings like this were common anywhere the Decepticons didn't completely subdue on their first pass through a targeted area. This would happen if there were still enemy military fighters elsewhere that had to be dealt with. "When we get rid of the enemy military, we come back and 'take care of' these types of overconfident freaks," Carjack yelled over the chanting, with obvious disdain for their ilk.

"The purpose of this part of the drill is simple. Take care of these freaks!" Almost all of the troops present took that as a command to destroy the little targets now in front of them, and they quickly got into a formation where everyone could get a shot in. A few of the first-timers, however, didn't really get it until those around them began to open fire or jostled them into the proper positions. By then, many of the well-programmed droids had already began running around like panicked ants, making them harder to hit, while other droids clambered into each other in a chaotic way. One little human droid stood still, its expression steely, and its posture showing a complete lack of fear. Its hand was near its waist.

Carjack watched the troops carefully, looking to see who had the least hesitation and who would have the highest "kill" count. Cameras, openly mounted above, sent footage to the MilIntel Supercomputer for it to count these stats as well. Overall attitudes, as displayed by body language and any commentary, would be analyzed as well. There was no secret about this sort of recording. It was part of the scoring systems used for soldiers in training, and it was made obvious in hopes of bringing out the best possible performance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vavin
Changeling Hive

The queen laughed upon hearing the question. "The answer to that is part of the reason we got interested in Megatronism," she said. "I presume you have heard of the 'mining system' on your Earth? It turns out that sometimes, the Cloning Centers there overproduce new slaves. They expect old slaves to die at a certain point, see, and if they don't do so, the System is left with extras. We made an arrangement to have 1,000 of these 'accidentally' produced and run through the Biological Education System, which teaches them that the Decepticon Way is something worthy of love and adoration. It teaches the same of Decepticons like you. And then, once they were fully brainwashed this way, we had them sent here. So now we have a huge supply of love, and all we have to provide for them is nutrients and cocoons," She laughed again. Then, though still happy, she stopped chuckling long enough to add, "But it is not what we call Decepticon Love. It is the sort of love that is generated by the meek, or by those who feel gratitude or a need to serve. This is appropriate for those who were raised to be unquestioning and obedient slaves. It's a smooth form, easy to digest, but lacking the spice that you two would have..." For just a moment, she looked at them with hungry eyes, but restrained herself from trying anything.

Whoever was back in the tunnels, however, had no such reservations. After failing to find a draw point on Loyal Star, he attempted to connect to Fire Eater. Loyal Star heard the slightest little rev as Fire Eater detected this...and activated his little black hack-marble. It immediately sent energy - the pure, but emotionless, energy of a non-sapient machine - straight up the beam the offender was using to try to connect. The slightest little "urgh" was heard from the tunnel, and then the energetic activity seemed to stop.

Loyal Star used his magic to get a different look, and he soon realized that the energetic activity was really still going on, but at a very low level. Fire Eater's machine now had a connection into the changeling, but nothing was coming the other way anymore. How much control Fire Eater now had over the "back-hacked" creature was still yet to be seen.

[Vallermoore]

Oilfountain Base

General Carjack's actual purpose was to see how two soldiers did in particular, one a serial killer of his fellow Decepticons, and the other a former sapient pony who went through all the complicated and dangerous tests and the pain of being downloaded into a Decepticon body with the ultimate aim of joining his battalion. Carjack had a low opinion of sapient ponies in general, made worse by Loyal Star being foisted on him in the short term. He had wanted to outright kill Loyal Star at one time, but he knew if he did that without reason, he would have Megatron on his back for it. For some reason that he had no idea of and knew better then to ask, Megatron had a not so much a soft spot as a less hard spot for that particular cleric. But this Pesticide guy might be perfectly OK for all he knew and deserved a chance to prove himself if he really did want so much to join the Battalion. There was an airshow from the finest fliers and the General took part himself. Airshows were not just popular in the military but in civilian life as well; in fact they were so wildly popular that at civilian airshows, no bot was allowed to open fire on another bot who was participating in one as it spoilt far too much fun. The best fliers got a lot of respect and in some civilian airshows, prizes.

Carjack made a small speech and then led some troops out for field drills, being careful to pick Pesticide and the other bot he had come to see. When the true nature of the drill was revealed, some troops were a bit slow to start firing, others were average to good, and Pesticide was in his element, blasting away as if he already had the right to wear the Skull and Wrenches insignia that he so wanted. This might be just a military drill, but it was a recreation of what he wanted to do so much that he gave up his pony life for. The other bot was good and blasting, but not as good at it as Pesticide was. Pesticide's eyes were blazing away with undisguised pleasure, a big smile on his face, clearly enjoying this paticular drill until the last droid was busted scrap.

Vavin
Changeling Hive

As it turned out the Changeling Queen was happy to spill these paticular beans. It turned out she and her hive had successfully brought 1000 educated Decepticon slaves, cocooned them, and they poured out huge amounts of love like great batteries, enough to feed the entire hive. They didn't need to infiltrate other places or raid now; they could just have an easy time of it.But it is not what we call Decepticon Love. It is the sort of love that is generated by the meek, or by those who feel gratitude or a need to serve. This is appropriate for those who were raised to be unquestioning and obedient slaves. It's a smooth form, easy to digest, but lacking the spice that you two would have..." When she said that, Loyal Star rubbed his blaster, the equvilent in a Decepticon of a light growl or a toothy smile from a dog, that in effect said Don't you dare try and get our love-or else! He knew she hungered for his love for his God and the Decepticon Way and if she could, would drain it all and send him and Fire Eater to their spares, and would blast rather then let that happen. Decepticons were not food, exspecialy not for mere biologicals. Fortunately for her and her Hive, she refrained from any attempt to crack his sheilding, but another changeling did without success and then moved on to Fire Eater, only to be back hacked in seconds.

After a rousing sermon pointing out how good Megatronism was, that it was very like the Changeling Way in many ways, and that Changelings who died of old age in biological bodies would not have that count against them in the afterlife (since death allways happened to biologicals, they would not convert if they would be punished just for being biological) he showed the vidio of Megatron defreating F-rafa (and was privately pleased that it wasen't himself, Loyal Star, that ended up fighting a Goddess the size of a planet all by himself, which would have killed him by sheer size and power.) When they realized their Goddess was dead, most of the changelings reacted like he as a pony had done-if Megatron could slay their Goddess, He must be the Supreme God of the Universe. Like Decepticons, changelings respected strength. Every Queen ultimately ruled her Hive because she could if she had to, kill any challenger, and her subjects knew this, even if she very rarely needed to make this reality. Most of the lings knelt in respect to Megatron and the two Priests who towered over them. Only the most loyal to their old Goddess were horrified. Loyal Star asked "Has your Goddess before her death ever come to fight with you in battle or used her magic directly to save a Hive? Our God, Megatron, has done that many times, even when He was once mortal. If Cybertron were ever to face the most dire dangers that the bots could not themselves defeat, He would rise to Cybertron's defense."

[Victorious Decepticons]

Drill Range/Oilfountain Base

Carjack watched the soldiers carry out the drill with a stern, calculating gaze. Within seconds, the droids were scrap - something that would have made such a drill too costly for most lower-tech armies. To make a single one as a one-off would cost such a country about $10 million. Here, however, the production of little droids was done in high-speed factories and was so efficient that they were worth about 10 Cubes each. It was the programming that made them special, not their bodies, and when accounting time came, the cost of the coding was divided by the many thousand that were produced each year.

One droid, however, had a surprise for them. The "bold" one quickly pushed a hidden button on its belt before it was targeted, and a sudden explosion happened. This sent shrapnel from the bomb into the closest Decepticons with enough force to cause some minor dents. Fortunately for Pesticide and the other candidate, they were out of the blast radius and avoided damage.

"As you can see," Carjack scolded the damaged ones, "it is important to remember that not all humans are totally helpless. Always be vigilant, because it only takes one who has the proper preparation to turn you into a hunk of scrap metal. That bomb there was just a demo model. On some worlds, it would have been a mini-nuke. And yes - one of the strange things about the human species in particular is that while they prize life on the whole, there is also a small percentage of individuals willing to die just to make sure that some of their enemies do so as well."

With that, the drill was ended, and everyone headed back to the base through the many ventilation shafts between the planet's levels. Back at the base, everyone was dismissed, and they began to speculate among themselves about whether the explosive element was a standard part of this drill or put there to prepare for a specific invasion. The truth was that it was neither. Carjack had wanted to see if either of the candidates would realize that they should target people who acted strangely bold first, before moving onto other targets. Both, alas, had failed to recognize the implications of boldness coming from a "being" that should have been terrified. Now, perhaps, they would remember that this typically meant that the being had some sort of weapon instead of him simply being harmlessly crazy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, in an office used by visiting generals and other luminaries, Carjack went over the report from the MilIntel Supercomputer. Pesticide was identified as the most eager as well as being the most prolific blaster. Several others fired often, and had good scores, but lacked the eagerness to do the job that Pesticide had showed. The serial killer fired well too, but appeared to be dissatisfied with the drill's goal altogether. Finally, some newbies seemed to be quite reluctant about any of it, perhaps thinking that in a real battle, the targets would have some better use alive.

For now, the General would say nothing official. He did, however, put the wheels in motion to have the serial killer considered for a role as a black ops specialist at ForIntel instead of being fast-tracked into the Genocide Battalion. It seemed that he was not into creating mass carnage, but instead, would relish the sneakiness and artistry required for secret political assassinations. The final fate of this killer, however, would not be determined until after he was observed in several other situations. In fact, he would not even know that he had been pinpointed until the government had made up its mind about where to put him - and then gave him its ultimatum.

Vavin

Fire Eater's speech was great, but not great enough to convince everyone. At least one made that known in no uncertain terms.

"BULLSHIT!" Came a loud voice, and one in the crowd stood up and assumed the form of an angry giant. "What has gotten into you!!?" the dissenter demanded of the others. "We all know what the Decepticons are good at: FORGERY! The movie is a FAKE! Just like their fake porn! And their fake money! F-rafa is surely alive and well, and now you're all going to The Bad Place for apostasy!"

Immediately, angry murmers ran through the crowd. This guy was probably right! The Decepticons even had a national counterfeiting office as a bonafide government branch - surely this anti-F-rafa movie was just CGI'd propaganda!

It was clear to both priests that they would have to do something to prove Megatron's superiority, and also prove that F-rafa was nothing.

[Vallermoore]

Vavin

The Changeling Priest who transformed took a shape sixty feet tall, still small to a Decepticon but towering over his fellow Changelings. Loyal Star knew that just blasting the ling or even roasting him with fusion fire would just panic the entire Hive and make them flee for their lives, turning them off Megatronism for the rest of their lives. So he sent a private and polite prayer up to Megatron explaining the situation and asking for help using just his mind boards. He remembered Megatron frying his joints and never wanted THAT to happen again, considering himself to have got off lightly. Only then did he ask Megatron openly "Oh Great God of the Universe, show these Changelings how powerful you are in a way that cannot be passed off as mere Deceptive and Conniving trickery." All around him the iridescent changelings waited for a sign that Megatron was indeed as powerful as Loyal Star said. A changeling, most likely the back hacked one, flew out of a tunnel and hovered in the air close to Fire Eater, all the rest of the changelings staying out of arm's reach of the two mighty bots who could if they wanted crush them like insects.

Drill Range/Oilfountain Base

This drill had an unwelcome surprise-a bot with a bomb that could dent and slightly hurt the bots closest to it. Carjack told them, "As you can see, it is important to remember that not all humans are totally helpless. Always be vigilant, because it only takes one who has the proper preparation to turn you into a hunk of scrap metal. That bomb there was just a demo model. On some worlds, it would have been a mini-nuke. And yes - one of the strange things about the human species in particular is that while they prize life on the whole, there is also a small percentage of individuals willing to die just to make sure that some of their enemies do so as well." Pesticide placed that remark in a special file marked Wisdom from General Carjack in his mind boards as the drill ended. Some bots thought a new war was soon coming, others that it was just a warning to keep on their toes.

General Carjack would quietly put wheels into motion-the serial killer for a chance for a job at Forintel as a political assassin, and for Pesticide, a chance to join his Genocide Battalion. Once both bots had served their first conscription stints things would happen. After their training, Coin and Pesticide ended up in the same outpost of troops on anti-traitor duty. Some outposts might have nothing happening, whilst others might be called out as many as two or three times in their stint. Traitors as a whole either in word or in deed were pretty rare; but there were so many bots, that there were bound to be a few greedy or nasty bots who did things like narking on Decepticon secrets to biologicals or maltreating their non sapient offspring. As it turned out, there was a traitor in the region who had decided to make a deal with a changeling hive to betray the secrets of how to get past the anti-changeling shielding on Decepticons and, far worse, how to outright kill a drained Decepticon. The commander of the unit called the unit together with the special alarm sounded when something like this happened.

"Decepticons-we have a traitor to deal with. This bot, Trickster, was uncovered by a Forintel agent in a changeling Hive, offering to betray the secrets of our anti-changeling shielding to them, so that they can steal our love and drain us dry." His eyes were dark, and his engine revved angrily. "And worse then that, how to kill us with magic jamming. He is endangering the entire Nation by doing that. He is planning to leave in a short time to meet up with the Queen of that Hive on another planet 200 light years from here. We are going to make sure he never gets the chance to leave Cybertron. Domintel has destroyed his spares and Saves except for a changeling body he has in a panel-he was quite a wealthy bot, which makes it even worse if that is possible. We are going to destroy both his running instance and that changeling body. Forintel said he is a..." he almost spat the words out "if he was speaking truthfully to the Hive, he is a Changeling admirer who....who wishes that he was born a Changeling instead of built as a Decepticon! What a miserable self hating bunch of robot parts!!!!! " Now the other bots were as angry as he was.
"It is us who will send that traitor to the Realm of Punishment where he belongs. He lives on Smoothsteel Street at number 5, in the second richest district after the Government District."

Pesticide was bemused as they set out, and radioed Coin since the unit not been told to remain silent. "How could a bot-a rich bot at that-want to be a Changeling-a being of weak chitin? To the point where he would betray our glorious Nation?"

[Victorious Decepticons]

Megatron Mansion

Leader Megatron was eager to answer this prayer and convert the hive now that he was asked in the right way. One of Loyal Star's stipulations, however, had him momentarily stumped. He had been asked to do it in a way that cannot be passed off as mere Deceptive and Conniving trickery! Pretty much everything could be done via trickery, and even things that couldn't, could either be faked - or if legit, could be wrongly accused of being tricks.

Megatron connected to Loyal Star via the secret radio, and said, "ask them what proofs they would like to see. If they are reasonable, I will see about showing them. But do not agree to anything like 'the destruction of all of the hive's enemies' or 'the appearance of the equivalent of a million Cubes of Love.' I could just see them trying to play me to get free war services or free stuff!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoothsteel Street

"Who cares! Obviously he is coded out of glitches!" Snapped the commander over the radio. "Now, radio silence!" The group flew toward the address they were given, and with the silence, the traitor wouldn't know they were coming until they were within firing range. This made it so that he would likely be at home.

Silently, the death squad landed in the street near the traitor's house. Then, after marching past what appeared to be an older mansion that was now being cleared out by its rusty owner, they saw the gleaming white titanium-clad manor of their quarry. Alas, he saw them, too - and immediately, sturdy blast shades came down with a resounding clang. Then, under their feet, the squad heard the unmistakable sound of other feet - feet that were running.

"He's in a secret tunnel! After him!" The commander ordered. "You two, you watch that house in case he doubles back. The rest of you, follow me!"

Pesticide and Coin were still together as they ran after the commander, who was headed towards one of the main ventilation shafts. Soon, they, the commander, and a couple of other troops jumped into the opening after moving what looked like a giant manhole cover. Instead of freefalling and firing foot-jets at the next level, the commander carefully went down a ladder up the shaft's wall. After going down only about 110 feet, he stopped and started blasting at the wall. It didn't take long for this section of the wall to give way, revealing the fact that it was just a dummy panel - and, revealing the opening of the escape shaft.

Sure enough, the sound of feet stopped coming towards them almost immediately, and receded in the other direction. Now, the commander jumped into the escape tunnel and the others followed. He also radioed the two by the house and ordered them to cover the next access shaft on the other end of the block. This would sandwich the traitor between the two groups, but it would also make it easy for the troops to end up hitting each other. "Expect him to duck," the commander warned.

Soon, they had to turn on their night vision as they moved far from the sources of light at each end of the tunnel. Now, they could see the shape of changeling-like bat wings sticking off of a robotic body. It was their target for sure.

Coin didn't wait for the order to kill him - he knew the purpose of a death squad mission and wasted no time in trying to fulfill it. His blaster fire lit the tunnel, blinding the night vision of the others, and some cursing was heard from the target. The others soon adjusted their optics, but now, the target seemed to be gone.

The Commander cursed this and the one responsible for it. "Coin, you hotheaded imbecile - you didn't wait until we were coordinated, and now he's getting away! Now we're going to have to look for side-exits and risk ambush! You...you're going to be sweeping our floors for the next month!"

Pesticide recognized the name immediately. So that was COIN~! He didn't have much time to think about it, though, as the group began to race through the tunnel after their quarry. "Tap the walls to find the hollow spot!" The commander ordered.

[Vallermoore]

Changeling Hive

"What proofs, within reason, do you ask of our God? Would you, for example, like him to show himself to you, or to heal an injured Changeling if you have one? He is not going to offer anything too big, especially for nonbelievers," Loyal Star asked, carefully. Memories of being burnt by holy fire were all too recent in his mind boards and he did not want a repeat performance or worse. Megatron was a worthy God to serve, but it was a very bad idea to rouse Him to anger through doing or saying the wrong thing.

Smoothsteel Street

"Who cares! Obviously he is coded out of glitches!" snapped the commander over the radio. "Now, radio silence!" No punishments would be handed out for what Pesticide had just said as an order for radio silence had not been given when he said it, so technically he hadn't done anything wrong. Similar to civilian life, if something was not banned by regulation and no orders had been made against it, it was de facto legal. Silently the squad headed to the street and up it to find their target. They were not cloaked, and they marched in a particular way that was used by execution squads. They also had a couple of media bots-unless ordered otherwise, there would generally be at least an attempt to film executions/execution street battles for the news, to deter other would be traitors. Assuming they successfully dealt with this bot, the files on him would be thrown open to the public so they could see the evidence of his treason. This let the public know that Domintel was not going after guiltless bots for fun, and was a major revolt dampener.

The bot they were after was a wealthy bot living in a white mansion of titanium. Pesticide silently wondered to himself why he would turn traitor and decided that when he got leave he would go and read the soon to be declassified files on him. The bot turned on the blast shades-every house of any quality had them-and tried to run down a secret tunnel, but the squad were soon after him. Soon enough they got their first glimpse of their target with their night vision turned on-a black bot who had swapped his normal wings for bat-like green ones-but before they could properly blast him, a bot that turned out to be Coin blasted without orders, wounding his foe-hence the cursing, but temporarily ruining every soldiers night vision, letting the target flee. The angry commander cursed. "Coin, you hot-headed imbecile - you didn't wait until we were coordinated, and now he's getting away! Now we're going to have to look for side-exits and risk ambush! You...you're going to be sweeping our floors for the next month!"

Pesticide started tapping and soon found a hollow spot. Blasting it, he went into a tunnel and followed a narrow but unmistakeable oil trail. Blasting the trail, flames went up and soon reached and slowed the source enough for Pesticide to find it. The bot had replaced his red eyes with insect-like green ones that shone like a Coltani, and he had added antennae, a crown of the kind that Changeling Queens wore as part of their bodies, and a horn that turned out to be connected to a non-magical but very powerful lightning source. His colour was black and looked chitinous, his wigs bat like and green, and instead of Decepticon Seals he seemed to have some sort of-cutie marks? The two bots locked in combat, the traitor bot trying, without success, to fry Pesticide with this artificially created lightning as well as to blast him. Pesticide blasted back with his blasters and the real thing and then other bots caught up and blasted the bot from behind. As his body fell, a small changeling android flew out, but Pesticide caught it, snapped off the blasters, horn, wings and legs, and handed it to the commander who could either destroy it there and then or, if he was angry enough or thought an example needed to be made, could take the android to the nearest foundry. The android started begging for mercy, which disgusted every soldier present, and then said "I've got a bot a few days old that I downloaded into a changeling android form. He thinks he is a changeling. He is in my mansion on the top floor." The commander decided because of this that he would take this android to a furnace rather then give it the dubious honour of dying in battle, and ordered Pesticide to get the infant alive for taking to Debugging and to be brought up as a proper Decepticon. For a short time, not long enough to get in trouble, Pesticide looked at the last full size body of the traitor to see how much it had been modified.