The Three Realms The Three Realms World Building

Final War Shanty

There once was a ship flying through the skies

Bringing hope to war-weary eyes.

The war raged on, her weapons did fly

Fight, ye warriors, fight!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

She had not been two years in war

When from the Depths, evil did roar!

The Princess called all hands and swore

Evil would sink below!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

Before the ship had left a Realm,

A vile villain tried to smash her helm!

But then the enemy became overwhelmed,

When Arsha fired down low!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

No quarter given, no enemy spared

Arsha’s skill can’t be compared!

Dr. Borg had best be prepared,

For the Depths is where she’ll go!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

For forty months or even more,

The cannons were silenced, then roared once more!

All escape pods lost, there were only four,

And still that ship did go!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

As far as I’ve heard, the war’s still on

The ship’s not lost and Borg’s not gone!

The Endeavor makes her regular call

To encourage our soldiers, navy, and all!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done

We’ll take our leave and go!

The Three Realms The Three Realms (Book 5: The Final Fight)

3 Realms 5-12

The flotilla arrived and gave the crews the necessary tools and materials needed to fix the Realmgate. The Endeavor coordinated the action and saw to it that all the necessary repairs were made. Conso watched the whole operation as each component was tested. “When history looks at this,” he muttered, “they’ll say it was all a great folly.”

“History’s written by the winners,” remarked Arsha as she came up to him. “We’re close right now. We need to see this through.”

“Arsha, there’s no guarantee of that!” snapped Conso. “Face it, you’ve led us to ruin!”

“With all due respect, Sir, there’s no guarantee of your statement. You haven’t personally fought Dr. Borg. I did, meaning I know her better than any Admiral in Realmfleet, even Aldarval. Why else has she deferred to me on matters relating to Dr. Borg?”

“Because she’s a fool following a child!” Conso then got up in her face. “Arsha Royana, the idiocy of you and your fellows on that night has cost us a peace we all enjoyed! Did you even consider that maybe, just maybe, allying with Dr. Borg would give us better results and allow us to keep the peace?! She DID defeat Oyed!” Arsha closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing.

“…Admiral Conso Forsorna, it is taking all of my self-control not to smash your head to the floor for that insult alone! Yes, she defeated Oyed, but she’s a known criminal to the Fae Republic and proved unrepentant for her crimes! She didn’t exactly protest Oyed’s actions when he ordered cities to be bombed! She laughed with him as innocent men, women, and children died at their hands! Bowing to her would be giving her permission to destroy as she pleases! I won’t let that happen!” The silence hung in the air for a few seconds. “…Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to command.” She then left Conso alone.

The day finally came. The Realmgate was back in the sky where it belonged. The bridge crew manned their stations with Elgrad watching the whole operation. “All stations report ready,” called Shalvey.

“Then it’s time,” declared Arsha. “Transmit opening instructions to the Realmgate.”

“Transmitting instructions,” confirmed Shalvey. “…It’s received them and is ready to open on your command.”

“Nazay, open it.”

“Opening.” Once Nazay keyed in the command, they waited three seconds before the familiar vortex of colors appeared.

“Elmar, status of the comms probe.”

“Comms probe is ready to launch at your command,” reported Elmar.

“Malak, calculate distance from our position to the other side of the portal for it to land. Endea, refine those calculations.”

“Calculating,” replied Malak. “…Initial calculations complete.”

“Refining,” reported Endea as her eyes turned white. “…Final calculations complete.”

“Launch probe.”

“Launching,” reported Orthena as she pressed a button on her console.

A small device was launched from the Endeavor’s starboard bow torpedo tube. It sailed through the air and entered the vortex.

“Probe is inside Realmgate vortex,” reported Melandra.

“All we can do now is wait,” muttered Denstra. And wait they did. Bashoon drummed her fingers on the walls.

“…Catchy tune,” she muttered to herself, “but damn if it ain’t an earworm!”

“What’s a catchy tune?” asked Thangred.

“It’s something I heard while we were still trying to fix the Realmgate on the sly.”

“How’s it go?”


“Captain,” called Shalvey, “we’re receiving a transmission!”

“Can you identify it?” asked Arsha.

“Trying. …It’s from the other side of the vortex! It’s the probe!”

“Put it through!”

“It’s audio-only.”

“Don’t care! Put it through!” Shalvey keyed in the necessary commands and a rustic man’s voice came through.

“This is Handrem Dworga, King of Rokanth,” introduced the caller. “Political I.D. 8-4-7-2. Your probe came out of a vortex over Rokanth. Please identify yourself.” Arsha motioned her dad to take the call.

“Handrem, old buddy, this is Elgrad Royana, King of the entire Mid-realm! Political I.D. 4-0-2-8!”

“Elgrad?!” cheered Handrem. “Is that really you?!”

“It’s me, old friend! How’s the war treating you right now?”

“Not so good. You remember Lord Skain?”

“What about him?”

“He’s taken the throne! We need you back now!”

“Oh no, not him!” snarled Elgrad. “Not in MY Realm! Handrem, get Mayor Hulmbark and arrange a meeting with the three of us! We’re coming home!”

“So that IS a Realmgate in our sky!” cheered Handrem.

“An Over to Mid Realmgate, to be precise.”

“I trust you have the necessary data so a new Mid to Over Realmgate can align with yours?”

“Arsha’s crew has it all!”

“She would be proud of her crew.”

“Believe me, she is.”

“…Elgrad, you’re talking as if Arsha’s alive.” Elgrad nodded to Arsha.

“I AM alive, your Majesty,” she revealed.

“…Arsha?! But how are you…are you a-?!”

“No, no, I’m not a Revenant. Oyed just botched killing me, against all odds.” Handrem cheered.

“PRAISE THE ONES, SHE’S ALIVE! Elgrad, Arsha, we’ll have a feast ready for you when you get here!”

“Save the Victory Vice for when we save the Mid-realm from Skain,” urged Arsha. “We can’t have that slaver polluting the throne a second longer.”

“You’re right, we haven’t won yet.”

“We’ll set out once this call ends. Have a landing area ready for the Endeavor.”

“I’ll have to squeeze you in. The majority of Realmfleet ships ended up in the Mid-realm. We’ll be ready for your arrival. Handrem out.”

“Good luck, Handrem!” called Elgrad. The call ended and Arsha turned to Nazay.

“Nazay, take us through! Nice and easy!”

“Aye aye, Captain!” As the Endeavor moved forward, Bashoon grinned.

“Now that song’s REALLY appropriate,” she remarked. She then pounded her fist on the wall to set the rhythm. Once she pounded enough times, she started singing.

There once was a ship flying through the skies

Bringing hope to war-weary eyes.

The war raged on, her weapons did fly,

Fight, ye warriors, fight!

Soon may the Endeavor come

To foil the last of Dr. Borg’s fun!

One day, when the fighting is done,

We’ll take our leave and go!” As she sang, morale all across the ship reached new heights when the crew saw that they were finally leaving the Over-realm.

The Three Realms The Three Realms (Book 5: The Final Fight)

3 Realms 5-11

Marshii entered the throne room of King Heenda. She had a small phial containing a pink potion in her hands. Norvorok had his medical wand ready. Marshii gave him the potion and he loaded it into the wand. “All we can do,” muttered Marshii, “is pray.”

“Here’s hoping that our prayers are answered,” replied Norvorok. He then raised his wand. “Calundo!” He flicked the wand and pink mist came out of it. The mist coiled around the statues in the room, then it faded. Everyone waited for thirty seconds before sighing in disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” began Marshii, “I thought-” Her explanations were interrupted when she heard a sound. “…Stone?”

“Sounds like it.” The sound WAS stone, specifically, stone cracking away. The statues were cracking at an exponential rate. Just then, a stone hand fell away from one of the statues, revealing a hand of flesh and blood. More statues fell apart to reveal the person inside. The King was the last to escape. He joined everyone in catching their breath. He was about to get up, but Marshii and Norvorok caught him.

“Easy!” urged Marshii. “You need food and rest!”

“I have…get to the council!” panted Heenda.

“Not until tomorrow!” ordered Norvorok. “They’re voting on keeping the Realmgates closed, and we need you conscious enough to vote no.”

“Meaning you need food in your belly and a full night’s rest!” continued Marshii.


“Doctor’s orders!” Marshii turned to the entire throne room. “That goes for all of you!”

Aldarval and the Council convened the next day. They took their seats and chimed in on the table in front of them. “Realmfleet Council now in session,” declared Aldarval.

“Arsha’s testimony has changed the outcome of this vote,” began Conso. “That Blood Contract they signed was real!”

“Real?!” argued a Blaze Elf woman.

“She showed me the scarred signature on the back of her hand.”

“Does she understand how reckless that is?!” snapped a Zephyr man.

“I frankly don’t think so, Admiral Samfuram.”

“With that in consideration,” muttered a human woman, “I think there’s a case we can make that the All-Realm Royals are no longer fit for duty.”

“Admiral Hanfar Zenopagh, I did NOT just hear you suggest that!” snarled Aldarval.

“Supreme Admiral, with all due respect, we can’t continue this war.”

“Which is why I…inadvertently…took the decision out of your hands,” muttered Conso. The Council looked at him. “…Arsha needs to end the Final War by the end of the year. If not, she, Malnar, and Lardeth surrender their claims to their respective thrones and get their parents to abdicate.”

“You can’t threaten them with that!” argued the Blaze Elf woman.

“Besides, she’s gonna need the Realmgates fixed up for that to happen,” remarked Aldarval. Just then, Heenda trotted into the chambers. “Ah, your Majesty! Welcome back!”

“A pleasure to be here,” replied Heenda. “Have I missed the vote?”

“No, as a matter of fact. We were just about to vote on repairing the Realmgates. Now, Admiral Lorzak Mekoza.”

“Nay,” answered the Blaze Elf woman.

“Admiral Hanfar Zenopagh.”


“Admiral Samfuram Samafel.”


“Admiral Conso Forsorna.”

“…Aye.” The nay-sayers turned on him.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, CONSO?!” demanded Lorzak. “YOU SUNK US!”

“We have no choice!” That statement silenced the room. “If we’re so dependent on Arsha, then we need to make it clear that this miracle has a deadline! She can’t exactly do that unless she can travel the Realms! Either we force her to end it by this year, or we condemn ourselves to her as a throneless bounty hunter that’s perfectly willing to drag this on for centuries!”

“If we’re quite done insulting our best Captain!” snarled Aldarval. She then turned to Heenda. “King Heenda Untarfu.”

“I’d say my vote’s a little redundant, but Aye.”

“And the vote of Supreme Admiral Aldarval Naltomak,” finished Aldarval, “is Aye! Now, Admiral Lorzak, would you kindly order your agents and fellows to stop harassing the group repairing the Over to Mid Realmgate?”

“…Aye, Ma’am.” Lorzak left the chambers to issue the necessary orders.

“Admiral Samfuram, organize a repair flotilla to assist in Realmgate repairs.”

“Aye, Ma’am.” Samfuram headed off to obey.

Back in Frigandor, Dr. Borg, her spouses, and Jansha lazily sat on a couch. “…I wonder if we can even make new gods,” mused Remsu.

“Getting a hankering for children?” asked Shefarn.

“Something like that.”

“It would be nice to know,” remarked Dr. Borg.

“…Truth be told,” said Jansha, “I would like some siblings.”

“Then that’s the first thing we discover!” declared Dr. Borg. Just then, a robot came into the room. “Ah, Markulak: Model 7, how goes it?”

“Model 8, actually,” corrected the robot. “My predecessor proved defective. He’s-”

“Why would…sorry, you were about to tell me?”

“As I was saying, Model 7 had gathered all necessary information about Project: Ascension and he’s defected to Realmfleet. Something’s prevented him from self-destructing.”

“WHAT?!” That put them into a panic.

“Summon the rest of the Council!” ordered Jansha.

The Imperial Council gathered and Markulak: Model 8 presented his report. “You’re joking!” pleaded Yulduk.

“I wish I was, my Lord,” replied Markulak: Model 8.

“This is bad! If this gets to Realmfleet, we’re hosed!”

“You’re not wrong,” remarked Yamta.

“We have to destroy the defect,” declared Dr. Borg. “Model 8, see to it that your predecessor is destroyed and-” Just then, Weltam burst into the room.

“My lords and ladies!” she panted. “It’s bad! Our spies reported that the Realmfleet Council’s authorized repairs on the Realmgates! They’ve only got the Over to Mid Realmgate working but-!”

“That’s too much damage to our operations!” growled Dr. Borg. “The installation of the energy-dampening weapons on our ships MUST be accelerated.”

“We can try,” remarked Tormo, “but the supply lines aren’t as extensive as we would like. There ARE going to be delays in shipping them to all allied docks.”

“We can’t afford delays!” Dr. Borg then took in a breath. “Sorry. Tormo, please issue the necessary orders to secure the supplies we need quickly.” Tormo nodded his head and left the room. “Yulduk, how fares the mana consumption on all Revenants?”

“Badly,” replied Yulduk. “We’re consuming it as fast as Splitter Golems. We’re trying to ration it, but our hunger’s too great. You know, maybe removing Oyed so quickly wasn’t a good idea. You DID talk to him in making me, yes?” Dr. Borg then face-palmed.

“I didn’t even consider that!” she wailed. She then got an idea. “…But I may have a temporary solution. It’s only gonna be effective until we all ascend and people use you to make Revenants.”

“I’m down for that. Tell me when you get it.”

The Three Realms The Three Realms Cast


Once a member of the Realm Trinity Empire, Markulak: Model 7 defected to Realmfleet once he learned how rotten the Empire was. The Markulak line of robots was designed for combat, but after watching some Three Maidens sketches, he became enamoured with acting, hoping he could work alongside them. The Markulak line was created halfway into the Final War, but Markulak: Model 7 was created only twelve months before he defected.

The Three Realms The Three Realms (Book 5: The Final Fight)

3 Realms 5-10

Arsha made her way to a nearby computer terminal. “Computer, locate my parents,” she ordered.

“King Elgrad and Queen Hanako Royana,” replied the computer, “are in docking tube 3.”

“Thank you!” She dashed off to the starboard side and found her parents. They still had a pipe in their hands and blinked. They then saw Arsha’s regretful face and got the idea. Hanako opened the door and Arsha stepped back as they walked out.

“Figured it out, did we?” asked Elgrad.

“Mama, Daddy, I’m so sorry I was rude!” said Arsha. “I didn’t even think you guys were going through a victory vice!”

“One of your lovers is from Rokanth, and you didn’t even consider that?” asked Hanako.

“And consider how we felt,” continued Elgrad. “We find our daughter again, and what does she do? She berates us on indulging after so many months of being unable to find her. Can you even guess how hurt we were?” Arsha turned her eyes down. “I’m gonna guess not.”

“Arsha, you can’t afford to make those kind of snap judgments,” continued Hanako, “not if we’re going to win this war.”

“…No, Mom and Dad. …Sorry, Mom and Dad,” mumbled Arsha.

“All right, I think we said our peace,” said Elgrad. “We’ll take that smoker’s potion once the victory vice is over, all right?”

“All right.” Elgrad and Hanako then returned to their quarters while Arsha sighed, wondering how to proceed. She didn’t have to wait long.

“Captain Royana,” called Malak over the comms, “sensors picked up a Trinnie Robot coming towards us!” Arsha adopted her authoritative stance once again.

“Has it made any demands?” she asked.

“No, Ma’am. It’s not even fired on us.”

“This feels like a trap. Send a squadron out to meet it.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The robot stood by the Endeavor and waited for the squadron to approach it. It was humanoid, armored all around, and had purple eyes. The squadron leveled their wands at the construct. The robot then raised its hands. “I surrender,” it said in a male voice. The squadron looked at each other, then at the robot.

“State your designation!” demanded an Ice Elf.

“I don’t have a designation,” replied the robot. “My name is Markulak.”

“What’s your purpose here?”

“I have information that may help Arsha win the Final War.”

“…Prepare to be searched!” Markulak nodded and a human came forward, patting it down.

“…It’s clean,” he called.

“Bring it to the brig!” ordered the Ice Elf. “Mr. Markulak, you’re now a prisoner of war!”

“I understand,” replied Markulak.

“You brought the robot on board?!” snarled Arsha once the Ice Elf reported what his squadron did. “I was hoping you’d shoot it!”

“With all due respect, Captain, I couldn’t do that,” replied the Ice Elf. “Not when it surrendered voluntarily.”

“It’s a Trinnie robot! It’s programmed to be tricky!”

“Jansha was programmed to be servile, yet she chose to be in a position of power over organics. Who’s to say that a Trinnie robot may defect?” Arsha arched an eyebrow, then thought about it.

“…It’s a risk.”

“Endea’s trial was a risk.” Arsha smiled.

“True. All right, we’ll keep the robot, but it’s YOUR responsibility.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

Markulak was kept in a brig cell, given a means of recharging his systems through the power conduits of the ship. Arsha and the Ice Elf then entered the brig. They approached the cell, prompting Markulak to look up. “You gave yourself a name,” began Arsha.

“Strictly speaking, it was Jansha who did,” replied Markulak. “Markulak: Model 7. You, Captain, decapitated my predecessor, Markulak: Model 6.”

“I had no idea.”

“It’s one of the reasons I left the Empire.”

“You told me,” remarked the Ice Elf, “that you had information concerning the Empire.”

“Indeed. Dr. Borg ordered the Empire to find a Divine Tower in the Under-realm.”

“Why?” asked Arsha.

“It relates to them betraying Oyed.”

“I had a report about that. She turned on him and drained him of his Divine Mana.”

“Not just his, the Divine Ones’ as well.”


“The Divine Ones?!” yelped the Ice Elf.

“The Imperial Council,” continued Markulak, “believes that they will be better Gods if they blend Oyed’s Divine Mana with the Divine Ones, then ingest it.”

“I want confirmation on that!” Arsha ordered the Ice Elf. He nodded and pulled his sleeve back to reveal a communicator.

“Coil. Nine. Seven. Boxcar,” he said into it.

“Link. Click. Four,” replied a distorted voice.

“Sugar. Sugar. Nine. Four. Two. Sky. Cloud. Tower. Contract.

“Tower. Salt. Four. One. Twelve. Nine. Salt. Sign.”

“Boxcar. Three. Station.”

“Stop.” The call ended.

“Our cryptographers,” remarked Markulak, “can never figure that code out.”

“It’s confirmed,” reported the Ice Elf. “Imperial forces are searching for a Divine Tower in the Under-realm. They’re planning on being the new Divine Ones.”

“We need to get the Dwarf Kingdoms reunited,” declared Arsha. “With their help, we can find it faster than Dr. Borg can.” She then turned to Markulak. “Why?”

“You must understand, I want to preserve my people,” replied the robot, “but their recklessness and constant cloning of one’s mind is driving them to ruin.”

“I’m not so sure as I can promise the Empire’s preservation,” remarked Arsha. “My Blood Contract forbids it.”

“…Regrettable, but I will help you assist in its destruction.”

“Very well. Now, the reports indicate that most Trin…ity robots have an explosive payload in them, but in an unknown location.”

“Our left knees carry the detonator. Remove it and the explosive will be contaminated to the oxygen inrush.” Arsha called for a bomb squad to deal with the problem. The bomb squad found the detonator, removed it, and there was a hiss coming from inside Markulak.

“Now, if THAT wasn’t Detonium quickly oxidizing,” remarked the Bomb Squad’s Orc woman leader, “I don’t know what is.”

“Detonium?” asked Arsha. “Not exactly stable in terms of explosives. Very reactive.”

“Dr. Borg wanted us to take our enemies with us,” explained Markulak.

“Well, it’s harmless now,” replied the Orc woman.

“Now, what else shall we talk about?” asked the Ice Elf.

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles

Thank you!

…27 Arcs. 275 chapters in the main stories. 5 chapters for a small next gen arc. 6 years. …Holy crap! When I started this whole thing on March 31, 2015, I never thought I would ever get this far. Granted, I thought I would be finishing it on DeviantArt, but alas, ‘twas not meant to be. Oh well, it expanded to multiple sites during the Eclipse Exodus. And now…now it’s over. Transformers: Mobian Chronicles…has come to an end. This was easily my longest fanfic, and now it’s over. On the one hand, I’m a little sad that I won’t be writing the in-universe stories of Sonic and Optimus, but on the other, I’ve still got one more story up my sleeve with them…and Megumi and Arsha. After I finish The Three Realms and their last story together, we’ll finally get to Fantasniar, my retelling of a few fairy tales and nursery rhymes! I just want to say, thank you all. Thank you all for reading my Transformers and Sonic the Hedgehog crossover story. Thank you all for the small suggestions to my writing style to make it better as it progressed. Thank you all for reading Transformers: Mobian Chronicles! Here’s to the next story!

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 27: The Next Generation)

TMC Finale

Galvatron was grinning from ear to ear at Mr. Rozix’ outburst. “I wonder what Consortia Command’s gonna say about you hiring a Renegade Gobot, hm?” Mr. Rozix said nothing. Galvatron then turned to Ratchet. “And the grain?”

“It was poisoned,” reported Ratchet.

“Poisoned?” asked Optimus.

“Yep. It’s been impregnated with a virus. The virus turns nourishing foodstuffs into an inert material in the bloodstream. The more the organism eats, the more material builds up. It soon comes to a point where the organism can’t get enough nourishment to survive.”

“They starved to death,” Galvatron summed up. “In a storage compartment full of grain, they starved to death.”

“Well, Crasher?” asked Optimus.

“…I have nothing to say,” said the Crasher of that time. Optimus then brandished the Poozit in his hands and it screamed at her. “All right, I confess! I poisoned the grain! Take that thing away from me!”

“And the Poozits had nothing to do with your plan?” asked Galvatron.

“I don’t know! I never saw one before in my life and I hope I never see one of those miserable, fuzzy things again!”

“That can be arranged, Crasher!” called Cy-Kill. “Report to the Roguestar and wait for my arrival! I’ll punish you once I finished here!” Crasher vanished in a teleport beam.

“Cy-Kill, about that apology,” remarked Galvatron as he picked up a Poozit.


“…You Renegades have two hours to get your ship out of Consortia territory!” He brandished his Poozit, and it screamed at Cy-Kill. Cy-Kill and Cop-Tur then vanished in a teleport beam.

“After the Renegade Roguestar left the system,” continued Delmox, “history was almost back to normal.”

“Almost?” asked Eenar.

“The matter of Optimus’ memories,” reminded Delmox. “Before I did, though, I needed to do something.”

“To Delmox Prime, the greatest Prime of her time,” said Optimus as he signed an autograph pad, “keep up the good fight, Orion Pax, AKA Optimus Prime.” He handed the pad back to Delmox. “A pity you have to do this, I would love to know what the future’s like.”

“Oh, trust me, Optimus,” assured Delmox, “no one ever forgets the name of Optimus Prime and Megatron, the Heroes of the Primacron Battles.” Optimus grinned. Delmox then took out a silver rod and activated her shades.

“Is that…necessary?”

“No, I just like Men in Black.” Optimus grinned again. She then flashed a light on the rod and Optimus’ optics went dark before he collapsed onto the floor of his quarters.

“Delmox to Enterprise,” she called on her comms. “One to return.” She vanished in a teleport beam as Megatron entered the room.

“Optimus?” he asked. He gently shook Optimus. His optics came back online, and he rubbed them.

“Must have dozed off,” he mumbled.

“Optimus, you are a creature of curious habits, but I’ve never known you to nap on the floor.”

“We got our Crasher secured and informed her of her failed assassination attempt.” Delmox was finishing her testimony. “The Great Infestation picked up a few days later and we learned how to activate the Diamond of Time by then.”

“So, you got Optimus’ autograph?” asked Ranzo.

“That’s right. Now, if you wish to put a letter of reprimand in my file for that, go ahead.” Ranzo and Eenar looked at each other before turning to Burn.

“The testimony of the crew and their ship’s logs,” said Eenar, “put the temporal incursion factor at 0.0097%, way better than the reports said.”

“So, we don’t recommend prosecuting the crew of the Enterprise,” continued Ranzo. “To be frank, if I was there, I would have done the same thing if I saw Blackarachnia.”

“Then this case is concluded, and no sentence is needed at this time,” declared Burn. He banged his gavel. “Trial adjourned.”

“Thank you, Galaxy Convoy,” said Delmox.

As they walked to the docking ports, Ranzo and Eenar spoke to Delmox. “We’ll be giving you a copy of our report within the month,” explained Ranzo. “You need to sign it and file it away.”

“But, as long as you avoid time travel,” continued Eenar, “you won’t hear from us anymore.”

“Don’t worry, I intend to give time travel a wide berth from here on out,” assured Delmox. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” returned Ranzo. The two agents then shook hands with the Prime and returned to their ship. Delmox returned to the Enterprise and found everyone at their stations, sans the Nebulan Twins.

“How’d it go?” asked Annus.

“We’re cleared of wrongdoing,” replied Delmox.

“Good,” sighed Sandra. “Gobotron’s requested that we bring Crasher back for her trial.”

“Tell them we’re on our way, just need to drop off some…cargo, as it were.”

“Did you tell them about what happened?” asked Searchlight.

“They didn’t ask. …I’m open to suggestions on where to drop our cargo.”

“There’s a planet perfect for them,” reported Annus. “Just a light-year away. We beam them all down and they’ll have a new habitat.”

“Did any escape?”

“Nope, we kept the doors sealed while we were docked.”

In the cargo bay, Crasher and the Nebulan Twins were leveling their blasters at the horde of screaming Poozits! “This is YOUR fault, you know!” Mazzu growled at Crasher.

“MY fault?!” argued Crasher. “You’re the one who let a few get onboard!”

“If YOU hadn’t time-traveled and just let it go already, we wouldn’t HAVE Poozits on the ship!”

“You green-skinned morons! I ought to throttle you!”

“Arkoom! Grazin Oom! Orgtagh!” challenged Azzax. They spent the entire trip to the Poozits’ new home arguing.

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 27: The Next Generation)

TMC 27-4

Delmox and Sandra made their way to a private corridor. Delmox then activated her comms. “Everyone, the bomb’s not on the Nemesis. It must be on the station.”

“We’ve only been able to get through two decks of the general vicinity the boys got us to,” reported Annus. “We’re running out of time.”

“Mazzu and I,” offered Azzax, “can put aside our hatred of the vermin and help in the search.”

“Oddly enough, it’s not a question of manpower, it’s one of multiplication! The Poozits are breeding so fast, we can’t keep up with them!”

“Prime, maybe you can narrow the search down a bit,” suggested Searchlight.

“Explain,” said Delmox.

“Well, presumably, the bomb’s going to be somewhere Optimus will be soon.”

“I think I understand now! We’ll stick to him like glue. Keep this comm line open. He might be able to give us a clue for you to narrow the search.” Delmox turned to see Optimus right there!

“Captain Benjamin Lafayette Sisko, I presume?” he chuckled. Delmox panicked.

“He heard you?!” yelped Burn.

“I don’t have any record of him talking about another Prime from the future,” remarked Ranzo, “just the one of Rodimus Prime of a timeline where Rodimus and Galvatron dealt with your old Unicron after he destroyed Primus.”

“That’s because I had a memory engram re-sequencer on me,” replied Delmox. “Given what happened, though, I decided to wait until the bomb was disposed of and the Crasher of that time was dealt with.”

“Sir, I can explain-!” began Delmox.

“I take it, with all the subterfuge, I wasn’t supposed to know?” asked Optimus.


“So, the future is nowhere near as bad as the original Rodimus’ was. You’re not trying to change your history; you’re trying to preserve it.”

“That’s right. I can’t give you anymore details than that. All I can tell you is that someone from our time has it out for you.”

“Well, I guess I can figure out your mission from that. Just don’t attract more attention, all right?”

“Naturally, Sir.”

“Well then, if you just head to the mess hall, I’ll be there shortly with Sonic and Llyra. Au revoir.” Optimus then headed of. Delmox and Sandra entered the mess hall (just as Poozit-infested as the rest of the Nemesis) and sat down. Galvatron came into the room first and got his Energon. He was making a valiant attempt to stare daggers at every Poozit in the room. Optimus, Sonic, and Llyra then came in. Optimus got his Energon, then Llyra carried Sonic to the food synthesizers, scattering Poozits with her presence alone. They both keyed in their respective meals, then the dishes appeared. Instead of food, however, there were Poozits. They fled as Llyra roared. She picked up her plate.

“…My Dormako and Pragna berry juice!” she hissed. Sonic picked up his plate.

“My chicken sandwich and coffee too!”

“Fascinating,” remarked Optimus.

“I want these damned Poozits off the ship!” Galvatron snarled at Optimus. “I don’t care if it takes every bot we’ve got, I want them off the Nemesis!” Megatron then managed to get in as he carried armfuls of the animals.

“Yeah, they’re in the machinery,” he answered Galvatron’s silent question. “Probably in all the other food synthesizers as well.”

“How?!” snarled Galvatron.

“The air vents, if I were a betting bot.” Optimus’ optics widened.

“Galvatron, there ARE air vents on the station!” he reminded his nephew.

“And in the storage compartments!” realized Galvatron. He set his cube down and called the bridge. “This is Galvatron! Contact Mr. Teenak and Mr. Rozix! Tell them to meet us near the storage compartments! Optimus and I are beaming down!” Optimus nodded to Delmox.

“Did you get all that?” Delmox whispered into her comms.

“Entering the compartments now!” replied Searchlight.

Annus and Searchlight entered the compartment and looked at the multitude of Poozits. They activated their scanners. “Most of these are dead,” muttered Annus.

“That’s thanks to Crasher poisoning the grain,” replied Searchlight. Her sensors flashed. “I’m picking up an explosive signature! The bomb’s somewhere in here!” They then heard a noise. “What was that?”

“Someone’s trying to open the compartment door!” whispered Annus. A door near them then opened and let a number of Poozits out. Annus and Searchlight stayed back. Just then, Searchlight caught something.

“Sir, the bomb’s right in front of us!” They crawled forward and overheard the conversation below while tossing Poozits that didn’t have the bomb in them.

“Captain James Tiberius Kirk, I presume?” joked Optimus. His tone then went serious. “Good grief, I was making a joke, but these Poozits really ARE gorged!”

“Gorged?! On MY grain?!” yelped Mr. Rozix. “Galvatron, I’m going to hold you responsible! There must be thousands of them!”

“Hundreds of thousands,” muttered Galvatron.

“Given the size ratio between Poozits and Tribbles,” remarked Optimus, “and given the similarities between them, probably one million seven hundred seventy-one thousand five hundred sixty-one. That’s assuming one Poozit, multiplying with an average litter of ten, producing a new generation every twelve hours over a period of three days.”

“That’s assuming they got here three days ago.”

“And allowing for the amount of grain consumed and the volume of the storage compartment.”

“Galvatron, you should have known!” snarled Mr. Rozix. “You are responsible for turning the Shavok XI development project into a total disaster!”

“Mr. Rozix-” began Galvatron. Mr. Rozix would NOT be stopped.

“And I am THROUGH being intimidated, Galvatron! You have insulted me! You have ignored me! You-you walked all over me! You have abused your authority and you have rejected my requests! And this! THIS is the result!”


“I am going to hold your responsible, Galva-!” Galvatron had enough.

“Mr. Rozix, I’ll have you thrown in irons if you don’t shut up!”

“Galvatron!” called Ratchet’s voice. “Galvatron, Optimus, I got it!”

“Sir, I found it!” hissed Searchlight to Annus. She held up the Poozit with the bomb.

“All we have to do,” continued Ratchet, unaware of the future visitors in the compartment, “is quit feeding them! We quit feeding them, they stop breeding!”

“Annus to Enterprise, we have the bomb,” reported Annus. “Lock onto my spare locator badge and beam it into space.” He placed a badge onto the Poozit. The Poozit vanished in a teleport beam.

“Bomb’s safely detonated away from the station,” reported Mazzu.

“Now he tells us,” Galvatron muttered to Optimus in response to Ratchet’s answer.

“Galvatron, this Poozit’s dead,” remarked Optimus. “And so are these.”

“A lot of them are dead,” muttered Ratchet. “The others are alive but won’t be for long.”

“Then there must be something in the grain.”

“Ratchet, I want you and Shockwave to analyze the grain, the Poozits, everything,” ordered Galvatron. “Find out what killed these Poozits.”

“I haven’t even figured out what keeps them alive!” protested Ratchet. There was a brief silence. “…All right. If we find anything, I’ll let you know.”

“That isn’t gonna do you any good, Galvatron!” snarled Mr. Rozix. “This project is ruined! And the Black Block Consortia is gonna hear about it! And when they do, they will have a board of inquiries and they will roast you!”

“Let’s go,” Searchlight suggested to Annus. They headed to the ladder.

“And I’m gonna be there,” continued Rozix, “to enjoy every minute of it!”

“Until then, I’m still a Captain!” replied Galvatron. “As Captain, I want two things! First, find Arakujos and second,” Annus slipped as he reached for the ladder, scattering Poozits and flinging them out of the compartment, “…close that door.”

The Enterprise crew watched from the bridge as Optimus and Galvatron waited for Arakujos. The security team then brought in a man with four legs and four arms. “Really, Galvatron! I must protest this treatment!” snapped the man.

“Arakujos, with an armful,” snickered Galvatron as Arakujos tried to keep his Poozits close to him. Just then, Cy-Kill and Cop-Tur entered the room.

“Galvatron!” snapped Cy-Kill, “I demand an official apology addressed to the entirety of Renegade Command! I expect you to assume full responsibility for the persecution of Renegade nationals in this quadrant!”

“An apology?” asked Galvatron.

“Yes! You’ve harassed my men! You’ve treated them like criminals! You’ve been most uncourteous, Galvatron! Now, if you wish to avoid a diplomatic incident-!”

“You can’t do that!” protested Mr. Rozix. “That will hand Shavok XI to the Renegades!”

“I think more than the word of an aggrieved Renegade Gobot,” remarked Optimus, “is necessary to give that planet to them.”

“Optimus Prime,” hissed Cy-Kill, “as far as the planet is concerned, your nephew has already given it to me! Remember, I command every single Renegade!”

“Before I take any official action, I have a couple of questions!” snarled Galvatron. “Who put the Poozits in the storage compartments and what was in the grain that killed them?!”

“Galvatron, before you go on, would you kindly get those verminous animals out of here?!” asked Cy-Kill.

“I’ll get them out,” offered Optimus. He took them in his arms. As he headed to the door, it opened to let a masked bot with the alt-mode kibble of an alien Porsche into the room. The Poozits then screamed at the bot and escaped Optimus’ hands.

“Now that IS remarkable,” mused Galvatron. He turned to Arakujos. “I thought you said Poozits like everyone aside from Nebulans.”

“They do!” replied Arakujos. “I can’t understand it! The last time I saw one act this way was at the bar!”

“What was in the bar that made that Poozit scream?”

“Renegades!” Arakujos pointed to Cop-Tur. “Him, for one!” Optimus picked up a Poozit and held it in his arms. He passed by Cy-Kill and Cop-Tur and the Poozit screamed.

“You’re right, they don’t like Renegades,” mused Optimus. He then approached Galvatron. They yipped happily. “They like you, though.”

“I wish the feeling was mutual,” muttered Galvatron. Ratchet then entered the room as Optimus approached Mr. Rozix. They yipped happily again.

“They like you, Mr. Rozix,” remarked Optimus.

“No accounting for taste,” chuckled Galvatron. Optimus then approached the mystery bot and the Poozit screamed.

“Poozits don’t like you, Crash Course, I wonder why.”

“Ratchet,” called Galvatron. Ratchet activated his arm scanner and got some readings.

“…Organic brain,” he reported. “A blood pressure of…Sir, Crash Course is a Gobot!”

“A Gobot?” asked Cy-Kill. He turned to ‘Crash Course’. “Lower your mask.”

“I cannot do that, Lord Cy-Kill,” replied ‘Crash Course’.

“Lower your mask, on the double!” Cy-Kill then tore the mask off, revealing the Crasher of the time. “Crasher?! What are you doing here?! I told you to take care of a different station, you fool!”

“Wait, she’s one of you Renegades?!” yelped Mr. Rozix.

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 27: The Next Generation)

TMC 27-3

“That fight could have been avoided, and you know it, Prime!” hissed Eenar.

“Regulation 192, Section 7, Paragraph 3,” supplied Ranzo, “all Consortia officers and aligned powers must take all necessary precautions to minimize any participation in historical events!”

“All right,” conceded Delmox, “it was a mistake on our part. But I don’t believe there were any lasting repercussions.”

“How do you know?” asked Burn. “For all we know, we could be living in an alternate timeline right now.”

“If I or my people caused any changes in the timeline, we would have been the first to know when we got back.” Ranzo looked to Eenar.

“Why do they always say that?” he sighed before turning back to Delmox. “So, Mazzu was arrested.”

“That’s right, but instead of being taken to the brig, he and the other fighters that weren’t Gobots were brought in for questioning.”

“I want to know who started it,” Galvatron demanded of everyone. No one said a word. “…I’m waiting.” He turned to Mazzu. “Who started it?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” replied Mazzu.

“…All right.” Galvatron turned to Galen. “Uncle Galen, I know you. You said something before throwing the first punch.”

“I didn’t throw the first punch,” replied Galen.

“Who did?”

“…I don’t know, Galvatron.”

“‘I don’t know, Galvatron’.” Galvatron addressed the fighters again. “I want to know who threw the first punch. …All right then, Llyra, step forward.” Llyra came forward. “You were supposed to PREVENT trouble, Councilor.”

“Yes,” confirmed Llyra.

“Who threw the first punch?” Llyra hesitated. “…Llyra.”

“I started the fight.” Galvatron arched an eyebrow.

“You? What caused it?”

“Cop-Tur insulted us, Galvatron.”

“Must have been some insult.”

“It was. My spouses wanted to start it, but I held them back.”

“You hel…? Why did your spouses want to start a fight?”

“Well, er…is this off the record?”

“No, this isn’t off the record! I want to find out why!”

“Well…Cop-Tur called me a dictator with delusions of godhood.”


“Yes, then he compared me to a Slime Dog.”

“I see.”

“Then he-!”

“I get the picture!” Galvatron then cycled some air through his olfactory apparatus. “And when he said all that, that’s when you hit him.”

“No, Galvatron.” Galvatron twitched at Llyra’s answer.


“No, I didn’t. You told us to avoid trouble.” Galvatron lost patience.

“When did you hurt Cop-Tur?!”

“He, of all Gobots, said that mages should be sold off as sex slaves for inbred mongrels!”

“…Cop-Tur said that?”

“Yes, Galvatron.”

“Cop-Tur, a mage in his own right, said that mages should be sold off as sex slaves?”

“You have to understand, this was a matter of pride! I couldn’t let that one go!”

“…I see. …While I DO understand your position (trust me, Cy-Kill and Cop-Tur WILL be punished for that), that fight could have been avoided. You’re all confined to quarters until I file a report. Dismissed.” Everyone filed out of the room.

Mazzu went down a corridor, looking for some way to continue his search on the Nemesis. Just then, someone yanked on his ear. It was a disappointed Delmox Prime. Her lower set of arms were folded just under her chest. Sandra and Annus were with her. “That was way too close!” she hissed into the ear she grabbed. “You almost blew our cover!”

“What were you thinking?!” growled Annus. “Now we’re sure to get a visit from the Temporal Investigations Committee!”

“Can’t you just leave that out?!” gulped Mazzu.

“No, we can’t just leave that out!” hissed Delmox. “I’m appalled at you! You even lied to Galvatron!”

“…Sweet Rings, I DID lie to Galvatron!” Just then, they all heard a Nebulan roar, followed by multiple Poozits screaming. Delmox released Mazzu’s ear as they looked around the corner to investigate. Rev was the one roaring and the reason for that was that the corridor was lined with agitated Poozits, all screaming at him! Mazzu joined in the roaring as they both retreated. Delmox tried to contain her laughter.

“There’s a reason we roar at a Poozit,” Ranzo interrupted. “Those things are a menace!”

“Well, I stopped laughing once the infestation got worse,” replied Delmox. “During such time, Azzax and Searchlight successfully got ahold of our Crasher, and they returned to the ship.

“Welcome back to the Enterprise, Crasher!” growled Azzax.

“The pleasure is all mine,” replied the elderly Gobot.

“I hope you realize you’ll be facing some very serious charges,” remarked Searchlight.

“You wouldn’t dare throw a Hero of the Renegade Gobots into the brig!”

“The Gobotron Government,” said Azzax, “doesn’t recognize you as one!” Crasher scoffed.

“You mean the Guardians? Weak creatures that have no place in ruling Gobotron! It was supposed to be the Renegades ruling our world and our world ruling the galaxy! But no, we had to lose just as the Decepticons lost their war with the Autobots! All because Megatron didn’t have the hardware to kill Optimus Prime! Well, I do! I’ve been thinking about my Statue in the Hall of Heroes! I wanted to capture my essence! Let me be the first to admit that our statues can be so mundane!”

“I’m guessing you’ve already set your plan in motion?” asked Searchlight. Crasher laughed wickedly.

“You ARE quick! I see myself holding Optimus’ head in one hand and a Poozit in the other!”

“Did you send someone to kill him?!” snarled Azzax.

“Nothing so generic. I decided on a little…poetic justice.”

“She planted a bomb in a Poozit?!” asked Delmox once Azzax and Searchlight gave their report.

“It’s her revenge,” replied Azzax. “Originally, Optimus saw how a Poozit reacted to Crasher and realized she was one of Cy-Kill’s goons. She didn’t say where this Poozit was, but it was set to go off within the hour.”

“It could be anywhere! The Poozits are overrunning the ship!”

“Prime, I think we need to risk going to the bridge,” suggested Sandra.

“She’s right,” agreed Annus. “If we use the internal sensors, we can scan for explosives within seconds.”

“…Mazzu, swap places with Searchlight, then you and Azzax use the Enterprise’s sensors to search the station for a general approximation for the explosive and guide Searchlight and Annus there. Sandra and I will search the ship.”

“Hold on, search the station without the boys?!” protested Searchlight.

“I know it’s inconvenient, but I’m trying put as much distance between the boys and the Poozits.

“The more distance, the better,” agreed Mazzu.

“We’ll get underway once Mazzu gets here,” said Azzax.

“But each section must have thousands of Poozits!” hissed Searchlight.

“Hundreds of thousands,” remarked Sandra.

“One million seven hundred seventy-one thousand five hundred sixty-one,” said Annus. “That’s starting with one Poozit with an average litter of ten every twelve hours up to three days-”

“Thank you,” interrupted Delmox. “You have your orders, everyone. Prime out.”

Delmox and Sandra made their way to the bridge, the area was as infested with Poozits as the rest of the ship. They got to the necessary station and started working. Galvatron then entered the bridge. Shockwave manned the science station, Blackarachnia was at the helm, Megatron manned the comms, and Optimus was at Tactical. Galvatron sat down, then sharply stood up as a Poozit yipped in fear from under his rear end. He picked the Poozit out of the seat, then looked around the bridge. He then activated the comms. “Dr. Ratchet, would you mind coming up to the bridge?” Sandra then made her way to Delmox as Galvatron went to Megatron.

“Nothing on the bridge,” Delmox reported to Sandra.

“Thank goodness!” sighed Sandra. “When Galvatron sat on that Poozit, I almost expected it to explode!”

“Shockwave,” called Galvatron, “how did all these Poozits get on the bridge?”

“Unknown at this time,” replied Shockwave.

“You know, you SHOULD be asking the bot who brought them onboard!” snapped Blackarachnia.

“Excuse me?!” snarled Megatron. “I only brought ONE onboard!”

“And did you have it neutered?! Cause that’s how I was able to keep Fwuffy, rest his furry little soul!”

“How was I supposed to know that they weren’t sterilized in that fashion?!”

“You COULD have asked the guy you bought yours from!”

“Guys, guys!” protested Optimus. The two bots then looked at him. “…Let’s not start a third war between Autobots and Decepticons, please. We’re still making reparations on the previous two.”

“Captain Galvatron,” called Ratchet as he entered the bridge. “You wanted to see me?” Galvatron showed him the Poozits. “…Well, don’t look at me, it’s the Poozits that are breeding. If we don’t get them off the ship, we’re gonna be hip deep in them.”

“Mind explaining?” asked Galvatron.

“Well, since there isn’t that much in the way of Poozit reproductive behaviors, the nearest Shockwave and I could figure out is that they’re born pregnant. A time-saver that must be an evolutionary answer to predators capable of hunting them to extinction.”

“Logically,” remarked Shockwave, “that would mean that they reproduce at will.”

“Well, they certainly have a lot of will,” muttered Galvatron.

“Galvatron,” continued Shockwave, “I’ve been running computations on their rate of reproduction and the figures are taking an alarming rate. They’re consuming our supplies and returning nothing.”

“But they DO give us something, Shockwave,” interjected a voice from the ceiling. Everyone yelped as they looked up to see Nightbird walking on the ceiling and stroking a Poozit. “They give us love.”

“Dear, must you do that?!” protested Megatron.

“Yes,” replied Nightbird. “Besides, didn’t you hear Arakujos’ spiel? A Poozit is the only love money can buy.”

“Mom, too much of anything, even love, isn’t a good thing!” argued Galvatron. He then shoved armfuls of Poozits onto the rest of the Bridge Crew, even Delmox and Sandra. “I want round the clock cleanup crews on every deck of the ship! Then contact Mr. Teenak and tell him I’m coming over. Have him find Arakujos and hold him!” Nightbird then fell from the ceiling as she tried to hold the new number of Poozits. “And get these Poozits off my bridge!” As he left, the crew began cleanup operations. Delmox spoke to Sandra.

“I’ve scanned every deck. The bomb’s not on the ship,” she said.

“Then it must be on the station,” muttered Sandra.

Transformers: Mobian Chronicles Transformers: Mobian Chronicles (Arc 27: The Next Generation)

TMC 27-2

Galvatron sat in the Captain’s chair as Delmox and her team assumed their stations. “How close is the Roguestar?” Galvatron asked Blackarachnia as she manned the helm.

“A kilometer off, but it’s just…sitting there,” reported Blackarachnia.

“That doesn’t make sense,” muttered Sandra.

“Shockwave, hail the station,” ordered Galvatron.

“Channel open,” replied Shockwave as a three-armed humanoid with a long neck and head appeared.

“Mr. Teenak, there’s a Renegade Gobot Roguestar a thousand kilometers off your station.”

“I don’t think the Renegade Gobots are planning to attack us,” replied the alien, Mr. Teenak.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because, at this moment, Cy-Kill himself is in my office.” The viewscreen turned to reveal a Gobot with motorcycle kibble. The Gobot’s organic face was twisted in a sly grin.

“…Cancel red alert,” ordered Galvatron. “Uncle Optimus and I are beaming down.” Delmox activated a silent comms channel and informed Searchlight’s team of Galvatron and Optimus’ arrival.

“And you managed to man your stations without detection?” asked Ranzo.

“I trained my officers on how to operate a Kaon-class vessel, should we ever find ourselves on one,” explained Delmox.

“Good thinking,” praised Eenar. “What happened when Optimus and Galvatron beamed down?”

“Cy-Kill explained that he and his fellows were invoking shore leave rights. Galvatron told him that they could use their shore leave rights, but only three of his men at a time. Galvatron would also send down three of his crew to watch the Renegade Gobots. And, while I’m on the subject of Cy-Kill, I must say that history was right on a certain aspect of him.”

“And that aspect is?” asked Burn.

“Cy-Kill is a big, fat ham!” The Council allowed a small chuckle as Delmox continued the story.

Searchlight and her team continued their search for their Crasher. Mazzu and Azzax approached Searchlight’s table at the bar. “We completed our search of the lower habitat ring,” reported Mazzu. “There’s no sign of-” His report was interrupted by a playful yip, almost like a small dog’s happy bark. The Nebulan twins then noticed Searchlight was stroking something.

“What are you petting?” asked Azzax.

“Cute-sounding, ain’t it?” sighed Searchlight. She then revealed what she was petting. “It’s called a-” The animal was a ball of fur with long legs, a wide mouth full of omnivore-based teeth, and soulful eyes. The wide pupils of the animal contracted when it caught sight of the Nebulans, and it extended its legs while screaming at them. The Nebulans roared and drew their knives, prompting Searchlight to hide the animal.

“Uh oh!” called an onlooker. “Someone brandished a Poozit at the Nebulans!”

“Will you two sit down?!” Searchlight snapped at the twins. “You’re drawing attention!” The two looked at each other before sheathing their knives and sitting down.

“Doctor, where did you find that…Poozit?!” snarled Azzax.

“From a man named Arakujos,” explained Searchlight. “He told me Poozits like everyone, but this one doesn’t seem to like you boys.”

“The feeling’s mutual!” hissed Mazzu. “They’re detestable animals!”

“I always thought you organics liked animals, especially soft, fuzzy ones that make pleasing sounds.”

“Those monsters do nothing but breed and consume food!” growled Azzax. “If you feed that thing even the slightest morsel, then you’ll have ten Poozits, then a hundred, then a thousand in a matter of hours!”

“Will you calm down?”

“Listen to Azzax!” urged Mazzu. “Those things are considered a grave threat to the Imperial Nebulan Republic!” Searchlight stared in disbelief at them.

“This?!” She showed off the Poozit and it screamed at them again. She then hid it again. “A mortal enemy of the Imperial Republic?”

“They’re an ecological menace!” insisted Azzax. “A plague to be wiped out!”

“Wiped out?! What are you saying?!”

“Hundreds of Nebulan warriors hunted them throughout the galaxy,” explained Mazzu. “An armada obliterated the second Poozit homeworld. By the mid-6,000’s, it was believed that the Poozits were manageable again!”

“Another glorious chapter in Nebulan history,” scoffed Searchlight. “Are there still operas about the Great Poozit Hunt?”

Back on the Nemesis, Delmox, Sandra, and Annus simply did repairs as Galvatron, with Amy on his shoulder, wandered the corridors. “Bridge to my son,” called Megatron’s voice over the comms. Galvatron then headed over to the nearest comms terminal.

“Galvatron here, with Her Majesty.”

“Mr. Rozix wants to talk to you.” Galvatron rolled his optics.

“Not again,” sighed Amy.

“Put him through,” muttered Galvatron. A stuffy, uptight voice then came through the unit.

“Captain Galvatron, I demand to speak to you!”

“Yes, Mr. Rozix, what can I do for you?”

“This station is swarming with Renegade Gobots!”

“I was unaware that three Renegades constitutes a swarm.” Galvatron could practically hear Mr. Rozix grinding his beak. Delmox and her team continued repairs as Annus Magnus looked at Amy.

“Is that really a natural color?” he asked.

“Most Mobians have colors across the entire spectrum,” explained Sandra.

“Galvatron, there are Renegade Gobots on this station!” snapped Mr. Rozix over the comms. “That’s the issue! Now, I want you to keep that grain safe, you hear me?!”

“Mr. Rozix, I have guards around the grain, I have guards on each Renegade, the only reason those guards are there is because the Black Block Consortia and the Galactic Council want them there! And as for what YOU want-!” Amy cleared her throat, cutting Galvatron off. Galvatron sighed as he continued. “…it has been noted and logged. Galvatron out.” He cut the call and turned to Sandra. “Excuse me, could you show Her Majesty back to her quarters?”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Sandra, gulping nervously.

“Going to Repair Bay to take care of your headache?” Amy asked Galvatron.

“You know me too well, Your Majesty.” Galvatron headed off.

“Er, Your Majesty,” gulped Sandra, “I didn’t get to see your quarters. Do you mind showing me-?”

“I can get to them myself; I just didn’t want to refuse in front of Galvatron,” replied Amy. “Thank you anyways. By the way, just for future reference, Deck 7, Corridor 12, Room 4.”

“Seven, Twelve, Four. Got it. Thank you, Your Majesty.” Amy strolled off to the elevator.

“You missed out!” hissed Annus Magnus once Amy was out of sight and the repairs were finished. “I can’t believe you don’t want to talk to her!”

“That’s the last thing on my mind,” replied Sandra.

“Come on, Sandra! Are you seriously telling me you, of all people, aren’t interested in meeting one of Mobius’ greatest Queens?!”

“We have a job to do, Annus,” interjected Delmox.

“But it’s Queen Amy Rose I!”

“Look, of course I want to meet her!” hissed Sandra. “I want to shake her hand! I want to ask her about her first trip to Nebulos! I want to ask her about her time as the Scarlet Specter! I want to ask her about her wedding to Sonic! But that’s not why we’re here, Magnus!”

“…You’re right,” sighed Annus. “I guess I’m just so trying so hard to restrain myself about meeting my heroes.”

Back on the station, Searchlight and the twins were at the bar. Llyra, Galen, and Kari then came in. They found a table and sat down. A waitress then took their orders. “That’s her!” Mazzu whispered to his tablemates as he pointed to Llyra.

“That’s who?” asked Searchlight.


“…You sure?”

“Her photos are kept in pristine condition,” assured Azzax. “That’s our first ancestor, Llyra!”

“Ah, the opportunity to get her autograph!” said Mazzu.

“…You know, I think you’re anonymous enough,” mused Searchlight. The twins brought out autograph pads and headed to Llyra’s table.

“Excuse me, Supreme Councilor!” called Mazzu. Llyra looked up.

“News folk?” she asked.

“No, just fanboys,” replied Azzax.

“Ah, I see. Who am I making them out to?” She took Mazzu’s pad.

“Oh, just your signature’s enough,” assured Mazzu.

“We’d like this to be anonymous,” supplied Azzax.

“All right then.” Llyra signed Mazzu’s pad, then Azzax’s.

“Thank you!” bid the twins. They headed back to their table to see a Renegade helicopter Gobot named Cop-Tur see Searchlight’s Poozit. It screamed at him, causing all the Nebulans to pause.

“So, they hate Renegades as much as they hate us, hm?” chuckled Llyra as Searchlight hid the Poozit from Cop-Tur. “My friends, this is historic. There’s another race that they scream at! I wonder, did the Renegades ever try to hunt those pests down?”

“Nothing so mundane,” grunted Cop-Tur. He then grinned. “Although, mundane stuff is to be expected from Nebulans. They remind me of Zamojin worms.”

“What was that?!” hissed Galen.

“Easy, dear,” assured Llyra. “You ought to be more forgiving.”

“No, wait,” chuckled Cop-Tur, “I just remembered that there IS one Nebulan that doesn’t remind me of a Zamojin worm. That’s YOU, Supreme Councilor Llyra. A Zamojin worm is soft and shapeless, but you’re not soft. You may be a swaggering, overbearing, tin-plated dictator with delusions of godhood, but you’re not soft!” Kari stood from her seat.

“No, no,” directed Llyra. “Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion.”

“That’s right!” continued Cop-Tur. “And if I think that you’re a Eurythman Slime Dog, well, that’s just my opinion too!”

“That’s it!” snarled Galen as he and Kari stood up again.

“Sit down, you two,” snapped Llyra. “That’s an order from your Supreme Councilor.”

“You heard what he called you!”

“He’s too weak to waste the effort to punch, so forget it. We’re big enough to take a few insults. Now, sit down and drink your drinks.” Cop-Tur snarled at being called weak and not worth the effort to harm.

“…Frankly, you lot deserve the company you keep!” He then started laughing. “We like Trema and her ilk! We really do! Those backward, magic-spewing, inbred mongrels are so obsessed with archaic methods of rule! Half the galactic quadrant knows it! That’s why they’re learning to speak Gobotronian!” Llyra then twitched at her mother-in-law being insulted.

“Llyra!” hissed Kari. Mazzu and Azzax clenched their fists.

“Boys, no!” gulped Searchlight.

“…Mr. Cop-Tur,” said Llyra in barely a whisper, “don’t you think you should…rephrase that?”

“You’re right, I should,” replied Cop-Tur. “I didn’t mean to say that they were inbred mongrels, I meant to say that they should be sold off as sex slaves FOR inbred mongrels!” As Cop-Tur laughed, Llyra slowly got up, then looked behind Cop-Tur. Cop-Tur turned to see what Llyra was looking at only for her to rip off his helicopter blades and run them through his chest. Not fatal for a Gobot, but certainly painful. His buddies, a jet named Fitor and a car named Stinger, stood from their seats as they faced their Nebulan opponents. That was when the fight really broke out! Llyra led one side as Cop-Tur led the other. As the bar’s door opened to allow a security detachment from the Nemesis to break up the fight, Searchlight saw their passenger on the other side! She got the twins off Stinger and pointed her out.

“Searchlight, TRANSFORM!” Searchlight transformed into her motorcycle mode and Azzax hopped on. They sped off as Mazzu was arrested along with everyone else.