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.
“…No.”
“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-”
“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.