Rhinox

Maximal Command was understandably shocked at our appearances when we finally reached Cybertron. Instead of the Axalon, we came back in an Ark shuttle. Instead of the protoforms that left Cybertron, a small and motley collection of half-organic transformers returned. And instead of the rebellious Predacon general, we brought back a dragon.

As Megatron was taken away, we were immediately ushered into a briefing room. Not surprising. They had a lot of questions. Unfortunately, the answers only brought more questions. Eventually, they just gave up and asked Optimus to summarize everything that had happened. He did so as best as he could, skipping as many unimportant details as he could for the sake of brevity. However, it still seemed to take decacycles.

Try as I might, I couldn't listen to it forever. My gaze eventually shifted to my comrades. Cheetor was fidgeting in his seat, seemingly ready to explode from all his pent-up energy. He never was the patient type, and finally being back on Cybertron didn't help. Ratrap wasn't faring much better. Silverbolt and Blackarachnia were sitting shoulder to shoulder. The latter looked so bored she was about to fall asleep, and the former was closely examining everything around him with a smile on his face, as if every inch of the room was a new wonder to behold.

I sat back and relaxed, thinking about all the things that I'd do now that we were back on Cybertron. To everyone else, we were only gone for an orbital cycle or two (most of it spent on the return trip; Cheetor ended up miscalculating on the navigation). But to us, it had been well over a stellar cycle. It was a bit strange how nothing had really changed.

I eventually figured out that I'd likely be spending the next few cycles just uploading all the data we'd obtained about Earth during the wars. That is, in between explaining to scientists the new technology we'd discovered and the new bodies most of us had gotten. Come to think of it, that would probably end up coming first. I started wondering what I was going to say when they inevitably asked me about the Vok.

Finally, it ended. The exhaustion on Optimus' face just from telling the story helped communicate to our superiors just how trying an ordeal we had been through.

The senior officer stood. Even he seemed off-balance from the enormity of what our mission ended up becoming. "Well…" he started, looking around at the assortment of tired and impatient faces, "I think it's clear that there are a lot more questions to be answered here, but you all look like you've been through a war-"

"Heh, understatement of the century," Ratrap interjected.

Optimus glared at him, and the officer continued. "-And I think you've earned a little rest. We'll pick it up again tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll have someone escort each of you to your temporary quarters. And stay on base for the time being." He looked at Ratrap and Cheetor as he said that last part. "Dismissed."

Cheetor

Optimus breathed a sigh of relief as the big wigs left the room, as if a huge weight was taken off his shoulders. Rhinox patted him on the back.

"Good job."

"Well, I hope so. The more of this we get out of the way now, the less we'll have to deal with it later. I'd like to get back to normal life as soon as possible."

"What is normal life anymore?" I wondered aloud. "I mean, we've been shredding preds so long that it feels kind of weird to not have to do it anymore."

"Eh, you'll get used to it," Ratrap said as he leaned back in his chair. "Who knows? You might even find that you like it. I know I will."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." After all, I'd done it once before. How hard could readjusting be?

Just then, several bots entered the room. Their body structures indicated that they were the guides who would take us to our rooms. Some of them were very attractive femmebots, too. And speaking of attractive femmebots…

I chanced a look back at Blackarachnia. Hopefully, she wouldn't catch me. She still threatened to vape me whenever I looked at her the wrong way.

Luckily for me, she was distracted by the yellow femmebot trying to convince Silverbolt to come with her. The poor guy looked trapped, unwilling to leave Blackarachnia's side, but not wanting to hurt the young femmebot's feelings either.

Blackarachnia resolved the issue by stepping between the two so that she was face to face with the young Cybertronian woman and bluntly stating "Back off, blondie. He's with me."

"But-"

Blackarachnia's glare ended that conversation. Grabbing Silverbolt's arm, she led him towards the male guide who was waiting to lead them to her room.

A tap on my shoulder caused me to turn around. Ratrap was there, gesturing towards the two male bots waiting for us. Man, I was hoping for one of the femmebots. After all, I was a hero now, right? And women dig heroes.

But I still followed the two guides along with Ratrap out and down a corridor. We passed by some windows, and I couldn't help but stare through them to the world outside. It seemed so unreal.

"Man! Can you believe this?" Ratrap complained. "We finally get back to Cybertron, and now we gotta spend Primus knows how long in this dump?"

One of the guides glared back at Ratrap. "Eh, no offense," Ratrap added.

This seemed to satisfy the guide, and we continued on.

"Yeah, but just think about it, Ratrap," I said. "After we get through this, we'll be free to go do whatever we want."

Ratrap shrugged. "Eh, I guess that's true."

"So, what are you gonna do after this?" I asked.

"Oh, now that's an easy one!" Ratrap perked up. "I'll be goin' to my favorite bar to get a drink and a nice femmebot who ain't afraid to…say, lose some armor plates?" He nudged my shoulder with his elbow. I chuckled. Same old Ratrap.

"So, uh…What about you, spots?" Ratrap asked.

"Huh…" I responded. "Haven't really thought about it much. I guess I wasn't really expecting it to be over."

"Well, what about that amusement park or whatever it was that you wanted to drag me off to?"

"Why? You want to go?" I grinned.

"Don't push it, kid."

"Well, honestly, I used to love that place. But now that I think about it…With all the stuff we've done, an amusement park just doesn't seem that exciting anymore."

"Yeah, plus you can fly. Who needs rides when you've got a rocket on your back, right?"

"Heh, good point."

"We're here," one of the guides reported. "This will be your temporary living space, Mr…"

He looked at me, trying to come up with something to refer to me as. It hit me then that he didn't know my name. After all, most of us hadn't chosen our current names until we gained our beast forms.

"Call me Cheetor," I responded as coolly as I could. I wanted to make an impression.

Ratrap shook his head. "Ok, Mr Dashing Hero, I'll see ya tomorrow."

And with a slight wave of his hand, Ratrap and the guides left me to look over my new room.

Optimus Primal

The next few days consisted of more in-depth briefings where each one of us gave more detailed accounts of specific events. At first, the high council wanted to keep things under wraps, but after a couple of days they changed their minds and began disclosing things to the public (once they were sure they had their facts straight).

That's why the six of us were sitting in a lounge watching a television news story about us.

"And that's as much as we've been told up to the present time. Currently, the heroic crew of the Axalon is undergoing a long debriefing at the Ironhide Global Starport," the anchorbot reported. "We will bring you updates on this story as they become available."

"Heh-hey! Hear that, guys? We're heroes!" Ratrap cried exuberantly.

"Sh!" Blackarachnia responded. "We're trying to listen, mouse."

"In related news," a different reporter began, "The captured Terrorist known as Megatron has been taken to a maximum security prison to await trial as prosecutors gather evidence and prepares their cases. The location of this prison is of course classified for security reasons. The Tripedicus Council, the highest Predacon governing body, has denied any involvement in Megatron's attempted rebellion. However, investigators says that they have evidence to the contrary, and that they will be looking into possible connections between the two parties."

"So, do you think they'll be able to take down the Tripedicus Council?" Cheetor asked.

"Most likely not," I admitted. "While we can prove that Ravage and Tarantulas were each employed by the Tripedicus Council and tried to alter history, we don't have the means to prove that they did it under the Council's orders."

"They'll just say those two acted on their own, without the Council's consent," Rhinox noted.

"Nevertheless," Silverbolt noted. "The Maximal High Council now knows the true intentions of the Tripedicus Council."

"Yes, Silverbolt," I added. "They will no longer be able to plot against the Maximals without drawing suspicion. And when Tarantulas' actions become public, even the Predacons won't trust the Tripedicus Council."

Just then, the intercom system came on. "Rhinox, report to briefing room 3."

He stood. "Well, that's my cue. They want to know more about these transmetal bodies of ours." He sighed. "This one's gonna take a while."

"We'll keep you posted on what happens out here," I assured him.

"Knock 'em dead, big guy!" Ratrap added as Rhinox left.

That word brought back unpleasant thoughts. Dinobot lying helpless before me, with noting I could do to save him. Depth Charge's parts floating up to the surface, only to sink back down beneath the waves. The second Dinobot wishing me well, just before the explosion took him.

And Tigerhawk…I don't even know how he died. In a way, that was even worse. Instead of seeing one death, I saw many. Missile impacts tearing away his armor and circuitry. Fusion cannons vaporizing him. Megatron and other Predacons standing over his burnt remains. The possibilities were endless. As horrible as the idea was, I wish we had found his body, if only to remove some of those scenarios from my mind.

I stood. "I'm going to go take a walk."

I needed to get out and clear my head. I changed to beast mode and lumbered out, hoping my gorilla instincts would help me deal with my thoughts. Or, at the very least, distract me from them.

"What's wrong with Big Bot?" I could hear Cheetor whisper as I left.

Author's Note: This story ignores Beast Machines because, well, it made no sense. The plot had more holes in it than swiss cheese and it flat-out contradicted many things established in Beast Wars. Call it AU if you want, but it sure fits better than that sorry excuse for a sequel.