It was another time, in another place.

The battles between the Autobots and Decepticons had finally subsided, giving way to a time of great growth and renewal on Cybertron. With the threat of war fading in the distance, science had a chance to develop. New policies laid down by the High Council created great change among both factions, which many now saw as one united entity. While the journey ahead would prove to be a crucial one, they were ready.

The scientists on Cybertron began to experiment with new modes of transport through space. As years passed, they finally discovered travel through the fourth dimension was not only possible, but also reasonable, giving way to the discovery of a prize that the ancients had once attempted: transwarp technology. The missions first consisted of unmanned drones, then short manned flights. Once it was realized that transwarp had no ill effects on the crews they sent out, the first interstellar flights were scheduled.

It was heralded as a new era. Finally, interplanetary exploration was possible, for before it was a terribly time and energy consuming effort. It was realized that the population would have to be altered slowly, since the most efficient vessels were the smallest, all Cybertronians would have to be small as well. The elders were already pushing a size reduction as the solution to future conflicts—if Cybertronians were smaller, their needs for energy would diminish, as would their need to conquer other planets for their energy, or so was thought. The triumphs of technology accumulated quickly as the final short-distance manned tests were completed and a space-worthy vessel and crew were prepared. In one final fell swoop, the High Council decided that, on the day of the first interstellar transwarp flight, the archaic Autobot and Decepticon factions would be discarded; they would become one race again, united under the common designation that would be known as the Maximals.

Of course, the existing members of the Decepticon faction viewed this effort with great anger. Many refused to ever call themselves "Maximals" or ever ally themselves with such a group. The High Council was going to strip them of their heritage after the Autobots had unfairly defeated them years before. They would not allow that to happen…

- - - - -

The transwarp ship Chronos floated off the launching pad and out into space on that day, to the cheers of thousands of Cybertronians. As its engines activated, a wormhole appeared in front of it; the vehicle appeared to elongate as it entered. There was a horrific flash of light, a huge explosion, and the ship disappeared.

Something had gone wrong. The Maximals could not contact the ship as it had either been vaporized in the sudden blast or was careening helplessly through transwarp space, unable to return or comply with the messages sent. It didn’t take long to discover that a Decepticon loyalist had bypassed security and planted an explosive device on board the ship, near the transwarp engine. After the incident, it became painfully obvious to the High Council that the Decepticons could not be trusted. They were separated from the Maximals under the Predacon name, and many were put off world on mining colonies. Perhaps someday the Predacons could be integrated into Cybertronian society, just not yet.

- - - - -

Light-years from Cybertron, Chronos’ ability to remain in transwarp failed. A wormhole opened and it tumbled back into normal space. The crew was almost dead. A breech in the hull had exposed them to the dangers of the fourth dimension, a place where all time existed at once and one being could live a lifetime in a fraction of a second, or vice versa. The crew was unable to turn the vessel away from the planet they approached, or stop the crash on its surface. The vessel slammed into its surface hard enough to render the ship nothing more than a pile of debris in the gaping hole it blew. The remains of their bodies, however, survived the crash. They were unable to stop anything after that, which was exactly what they would never have wanted.

- - - - -

"Commander!" yelled the small red and black robotic being that was quickly approaching the ship. The being jumped into the air, did a few twists and turns, and transformed into his true form, a young Maximal scout.

"Yes, report Heat Seeker," replied the Maximal commander.

"I’ve studied all the information at hand. This planet is apparently devoid of organic beings…apparently it’s solely inhabited by these robotic life forms."

"I was afraid of that," he responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Remember that deserted city we saw when we landed? These things don’t live in it, and they certainly didn’t build it. These things have the minds of drones—sophisticated drones, but drones. These beings, if they can be called that, aren’t the original inhabitants of this planet. They were built by someone."

"Well, I guess that’s pretty obvious, but what are they doing here now?"

"Heat Seeker, that’s what we’re here to find out. Our mission is to explore and catalogue this planet the best we can without disturbing the local ecosystem. Give me the rest of what you’ve ascertained."

"There appear to be four kinds of robots on this continent, each based on some sort of elemental power—one fire, one ground, one water, and one ice. There are thousands of robots, like armies. There is no conflict between these four kinds of robots, but I have seen evidence of other kinds of robots, possibly from the other continent. The robots have humanoid designs with the exception of one vehicular form. Each robot has an arm that I’ve seen being used to throw large disk-like weapons, and these disks carry a power that is derived from the robot’s element. They are very destructive, and each seems to have a secondary weapon system. Also, each robot has a pseudo-alternative mode."

"It would seem that these are defensive robots. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. I do believe, however, that they are extremely hostile to anything other than themselves that enters their territory. I recommend we remain in secondary form to prevent having an attack brought down on us.'

"Agreed." The commander, who has since taken the name Deep Freeze after the crew landed, transformed into his chosen form, an ice robot with ski-like feet. His com-link activated, noting it was receiving a message from the crew's science officer, who had taken the name Top Speed. "Report," he replied.

"I've discovered some kind of recording device near the center of the city. You have to come look at this," Top Speed said.

"We're on our way."

- - - - -

The small green and black vehicle pulled out drove toward the small group of disguised Maximals and quickly transformed. "In this building," the Maximal pointed. They entered the large dome-shaped building that somewhat resembled a stadium. The interior was dark from the lack of any form of working light system. Pieces of robotic beings similar to the ones outside the city were scattered about on the floor, and there were bleachers all along the outside walls. In the center, a spherical object sat on a pedestal. The Maximals walked toward the sphere. "I was examining the object when I apparently activated some sort of message," said Top Speed. He touched its surface, and it activated a holographic projection.

The picture of a humanoid alien appeared above them. It seemed to fill a large part of the stadium, as if it were a device used to address the entire audience. A beam came out and flickered from Maximal to Maximal.

"It’s some sort of scanning device. It somehow translates your language by scanning your neural structure," said Top Speed.

The humanoid in the hologram began to speak in plain Cybertronian: "My name is Zetor. I leave this message here as a record of the demise of our planet, as well as a warning to all those who come here, in the hopes that such a tragedy never befall another race.

"Many stellar cycles ago, our race, the Velosians, lived in relative peace. The only barrier to being a unified race was a separation of continents. Still, we had achieved much in the years that began this new era, including near absolute peace between the two continents. We had just entered an industrial stage of development and began to change the way we lived using crude machines to do what was once done by hand. It was all so good…but it ended too soon.

"One day, nearly 100 cycles ago, a spacecraft crashed on this continent. Much of the vessel was destroyed, but from what we found we could see it was of a technology far beyond ours. The beings on board, which had been killed on impact, were something no one had seen before. They appeared to be completely robotic life forms. We salvaged what we could and set about to discover the nature of these beings.

"It took much time to learn the secrets of these beings, as their technology was at first beyond comprehension. Not only were they mechanical, but they had cellular structure and DNA. Once we had learned everything possible from them, we began to develop our own version of this technology. Although I find the idea foolish now, many of us back then had already decided that a god had sent the vessel from the sky. They worshipped the metal giants, unable to fully comprehend what they were.

"Technology eventually developed with which we could examine these being more fully; the main technological revolution was brought on mostly in direct response to the even more advanced technology of the beings. As I look back on it now, I see that most of what has happened to the history of our race in the last 100 stellar cycles has virtually revolved around these aliens, which may be all the pity.

"As we learned more and more, we found ways to partially utilize their technology. We began to build machines devised by what we learned. Our computers ran faster, our vehicles worked more efficiently, and our civilization reached a golden age. We were all too willing to share this technology with the other continent, which they were all too willing to use. Unfortunately, they had other purposes in mind.

"Word soon came that the technology was being used to construct robots. The leaders of the other continent shared all they had learned with us and helped us build our own robots. They were called simply Throwbots because of the basic ability to throw special disks. The intention seemed harmless enough. In the name of sport, these robots would fight each other in great duels, the goal being, simply enough, to win. The winners would take a trophy for a year until the next great battle, when the process would be repeated in a different location on either continent.

"All went well for many years. These violent games, being sponsored in the name of peace, appeared to have a positive effect on the population of this continent. That is, until one fateful day…

"After the twenty fifth annual Throwbot competition, one which our continent lost, the trainers of our Torch team claimed that their robots had been tampered with. After careful examination, all of our teams’ Throwbots were found to have been tampered with. A riot broke out in the stadium, causing the continental government there to deploy an army of Throwbots to stop it. We expected our people to be returned so that we could deal with the issues at hand, but the leader of the other continent had other ideas. In return for our citizens, he wanted all of our technological advancements and total control over our continent.

"We were at first too shocked to react to these demands. We had absolute peace only days before, now this? The shock soon turned to anger, however, as we now saw the other continent for what it had become. The leader had total rule over his people, with an insatiable drive for more power. He had been building a tremendous army of Throwbots under the guise of peace, biding his time to strike. When we declared war on the other continent, our massive Throwbot factories were put into full production. Throwbots had become instruments of war, an indispensable weapon against our enemies. The fighting began, and it was brutal.

"Gigantic battles ended in total destruction, with only a few Throwbots surviving on one side at any given time. The outcome of the battles was decided more on the sheer number of Throwbots either side took into battle than ability or strength. The war began to drag on and on, with neither side becoming clear victors. The war began to seep outside of the battlefield, as well, as the enemy Throwbots began randomly attacking cities and residential areas. The populace began using commercially sold Throwbots to protect their homes from attack.

"The final move by the government was to set up transmitters that automatically upgraded the programming in all the Throwbots in a given area. This move gave us the ability to make better, more concentrated attacks on the enemy. The tide began to turn in our favor…but it was too little, too late.

"The enemy upgraded his defenses, but, sensing defeat, made his final effort and released a computer virus into his own Throwbots. This virus was transmittable and made our Throwbots turn on us. It made its way into the upgrade transmitters and began infecting all Throwbots on this continent. They began to attack everything around them; the only things they didn’t attack were other Throwbots that had already been determined as allies in their base programming. When our scientists examined the virus, they determined that the Throwbots were not supposed to attack people from the other continent. This was not the case. The Throwbots were unable to distinguish one person from another, all of them having enough of the same DNA to make the Throwbots attack them anyway. We attempted an anti-viral program, but it didn’t work.

"As you can see now, the Throwbots have spared no mercy on our planet. Virtually every animal has been wiped out, including us. They attack anything that moves--anything that could be considered a threat. The war has been over for some time, but that’s only due to the destruction on the other continent. A few of them tried to make amends in an attempt to survive, but they were as helpless as we were to stop them. I’m almost certain that I am the last Velosian alive, but from the way I was chased here, I know I won’t be alive much longer. Please, anyone that hears this message, be warned of the Throwbots. They will destroy you if given the chance. Warn others not to come to this planet. Most of all, please, remember us and learn the lessons we were not able. This recording and these ruins are all that is left of our culture. Please don’t let us be forgotten. Message ends."

"As many times as I see this, I will never get used to it," said Deep Freeze.

"See what?" asked Heat Seeker.

"Culture shock," explained Top Speed. "When one race encounters another, more advanced race, they usually are unprepared for the effects of the sudden advancement that is brought on. More often than not, those involved destroy themselves, and more often than not that destruction is meaningless, more accidental than intentional."

"Unfortunately, I have a very bad feeling about this case," said Deep Freeze. "Come on, let’s look at that spaceship which started this all."

- - - - -

The Maximal crew stood on the edge of the giant crater, a monument to the power that one ship held over the planet it crashed on. Looking in, they barely knew what to think about the tremendous sight they beheld. They slowly scaled the walls, carefully searching for pieces that survived the crash, perhaps something that could shed some light on where it originated from or why it crashed there. At the bottom, they began digging through what remained of the spaceship.

"Much of this technology looks strangely familiar," Top Speed said.

"Yes. It would appear we know of this race from somewhere," said Heat Seeker.

Deep Freeze bent over and picked up a piece from the outer hull. As he turned it in his hands, his face showed signs of the disturbing realization, which he had half-expected since his first knowledge of this spaceship’s existence. "Yes, we know this race. It’s a closer relationship than you realize."

"What?" asked Heat Seeker, walking over to examine the find.

Deep Freeze dusted the piece lightly, revealing some writing. On the burned edge of the chunk of metal, half of a red painted symbol appeared. The symbol was very familiar indeed.

"Primus, it’s an Autobot ship," cried Heat Seeker.

"Not just any Autobot ship," said Deep Freeze. "This is the Chronos." Deep Freeze handed him the chunk of metal and looked away solemnly. "Call the crew. It’s time to go. There’s nothing more we can learn here."

"Shouldn’t we do something?" asked Heat Seeker.

"There’s nothing we can do," replied Deep Freeze. He walked back toward the ship, transforming into his Throwbot mode before crossing over the edge of the crater and disappearing from sight.

Epilogue

Deep Freeze sat in his commander's chair, thinking about the day's events. He turned his chair toward a computer console on his desk. "Computer, open Commander's log and begin recording today's report," he said.

"Complying," replied the computer.

"Begin Commander's log. Today, we studied the fourth planet from the star Sigma Alpha 009. This planet, while devoid of intelligent life, showed signs of a previous civilization, as well as a thriving population of drone robots. Upon further investigation, we learned that these drones were unknowingly responsible for the destruction of the race that created them. Although this scenario has been seen on several other planets, this one is different." Deep Freeze collected his thoughts, then continued.

"We discovered from a holomessage left by the last surviving member of the now extinct race, known as the Velosians, that these robots were built from technology derived from the remains of an alien craft that crashed on one of the continents. My crew and I later looked at that ship. It was an Autobot ship that disappeared long ago. It was the Chronos.

"This is one of the events that makes me wonder if we're doing anything good anymore. Our race was created to protect others, our faction was created to protect those weaker than ourselves, and yet our mere existence poses a threat to others. We fought long and hard to protect many planets from the Decepticons' destructive path, and yet we cannot even protect one planet from ourselves. Autobot technology fell into the hands of a young race, and within the course of 100 of their years, they killed themselves with it. It would be wrong to blame anyone for this--it was an accident, a freak occurrence, and yet I can't help but think that we're the ones responsible." Deep Freeze sighed. "Maybe I've been a Commander too long. I've already seen many wars on the planets we've visited. Many we were unable to even make ourselves known to the population for fear that we may hurt their evolution, others we couldn't interfere with. I do know that I've seen too many deaths and too much destruction to take it lightly. When something like this happens, however, everything I know is thrown into question. Why are the Maximals here if our own technology can be used for mindless destruction? What purpose do we serve? I guess these are questions we all have to answer in our own minds first. Log entry ends." Deep Freeze stood up and walked to the door. The lights in the room turned out as he left.

The End