"Dax, close channels."
	Dax touched a switch, and the skull-like head vanished, replaced
by a view of the ship floating just off the station. Sisko stared at it,
silently, for long moments. Finally, Major Kira broke the tension.
	"Well? Do you know what THEY are? Is this another little secret
war we're not supposed to know about?"
	"No, Major. I have no idea what they are. But I do know what
they're after. Our robotic friend down on the Promenade."
	"I'll have Odo ship him right out." Kira said, smiling, as she
turned to leave. 
	"Not so fast, Major. What makes you think they have a right to
him?"
	"A....right to him? I don't understand?"
	"While he's not exactly the most honorable being you'll ever
meet, that machine is still a sapient being...and under Federation law,
we can't return him." 
	O'Brien chimed in. "What about the Prime Directive? Can't
interfere in another culture's affairs, and all that rot."
	"You weren't so eager to invoke the Prime Directive when your
friend Tosk was involved, Chief."
	O'Brien was silent.
	"Ask their commander to come aboard. We'll get this all
straightened out. Meanwhile, I'm going down to the Promenade."
	It was growing late, the station entering night cycle. The large
machine was still there, squatting down, and talking pleasantly enough
with a cohort of aliens of all species. Sisko recognized a lot of
them:Mercenaries, smugglers, pirates. This creature certainly has
interesting tastes in friends, he thought. 
	"Hound. I need to talk to you."
	The robot ignored him, until one of his associates, a hulking
man half covered in worn battle armor, tapped him on the elbow. "Eh,
Hound...it's for you. Big shot!" 
	Swindle pulled back from the crowd and stood up. The long hours
sitting crouched to talk to these fleshlings without unduly intimidating
them had caused some lubricant blockage, and one of his servo's whined
loudly as he straightend out. He turned to Sisko.
	"What can I do for you, Commander?"
	"You're prescence here has attracted some unusual guests. I'd
like to know what you know about them. They call themselves..." he
stopped. His communicator was beeping. Irritated, he tapped it.
	"Sisko here. What is it?"
	"Sorry to trouble you, sir." said O'Brien, "but we've got
another problem. The Grand Nagus is arriving on Pylon 1."
	"Right on it, Chief." Everything at once. A commanders work is
never done. "QUARK!"
	The Ferengi shuffled up in the characteristic manner of his
race. "Yes, Commander? A drink? A holosuite? Anything you want, you can
have it...at very reasonable rates! How about a free spin of the Dabo
wheel?"
	"Quark, what is the Nagus doing here?"
	Quark paled visibly, his pointed teeth chattering. "The...the
Nagus? Here? Now? You wouldn't joke about that, would you commander?"
	"No. I wouldn't."
	"Don't you mean....don't you mean his SHIP is here? His shuttle?
Not him?" 
	"No. HE is here. Docking pylon one. And..."
	A voice echoed through the promenade then, a voice that managed
to be both ingratiating and commanding at the same time. "Quark! I've
decided to take over this deal *personally*! That's how much this means
to me!"
	That's what I was afraid of, though Quark. "But, Grand
Nagus...this minor trade isn't worth your bother! Please! Let me handle
it!"
	The Grand Nagus walked up, moving rapidly despite his great age.
He was accompanied by three younger Ferengi, one of whom was carrying a
large box. 
	"No, no, Quark! You've done so much already!" He hastily brushed
Quark aside and began examining Swindle, inspecting him as a human would
a fine horse. "Very nice...very, very nice. You're a Transformer, aren't
you? Autobot or Decepticon?" 
	Sisko frowned. The Ferengi weren't supposed to know about that.
	"I am....a free agent." Swindle said.
	"Heh! Heh! A Decpticon! An autobot wouldn't lie!" The Nagus
laughed again and slapped Swindle in what was supposed to be a jovial
manner (or so he assumed), the winced in pain. Swindle's body was
armored and quite tough. 
	"If I may ask, Grand Nagus," Sisko began, "how do you know about
this being's race?" 
	"Trade secret, hu-mon. Ancient Ferengi history. Very secret. 
But...for a reasonable fee...." He smiled, showing cragged teeth, and
held out a wizened hand, as if expecting payment. 
	"I'll live in ignorance, thank you."  He turned back to Swindle.
"Hound, would you come with me? We need to talk...privately."
	"One moment, Commander. Quark, we have a deal...."
	The Grand Nagus smiled broadly. "You're deal is with me now. 
Here..." he tapped the box..."is your end of it. Now...for mine."
	Swindle nodded. "Yes. Do you have a data storage device?"
	Without speaking, the Nagus handed Swindle a small grey tablet.
Swindle carefully opened one end, inserted his data-transfer probe, and
poured carefully prepared files into the machines databanks. He noted
the machine was totally blank...this Nagus wasn't quite a total fool. 
	The Nagus snatched the device back and activated it. Hastily
paging through the data, he saw blueprints, schematics, pages of
scientific notes....well, that was for the scientists to figure out! He
motioned to the box.  "That's yours." 
	Swindle transformed. Sisko had seen the transformation on the
station's monitors, but seeing it directly was a new experience. He
looked at the tan, old-style open-top vehicle that was in front of him.
No. There was no way to tell. Every detail, right dwn to the texture of
the seats and the labels on the primitive radio, was perfect. I wonder
how paranoid the humans living during their civil war must have been
about their vehicles. What could you trust? 
	"Nagus. Place the container in my trunk."
	Zek, the Grand Nagus, waved his hand. One of his flunkies ran
forward, picked up the box, placed it in. He saw the large pile of
latinum bars already in there, and whistled quietly.
	"Commander? I am ready now."
	"Thank you. Do you mind if I..."
	"Ride? Hop right in!" A door swung open. Carefully, as if
expecting the vehicle to suddenly mutate again, Sisko got inside, sat
down. "Towards that shaft, make a right, keep going until you get to the
large cargo bay. There's a lift at the far end." 
	In a few minutes, the large cargo lift opened onto Ops. As he
exited, Swindle transformed and stepped out....this area had huge,
vaulting ceilings. He could walk freely.
	He looked around. A control center. He had the whole station's
layout available for immediate access, of course..their entire computer
system was opened to him. But it was best to play ignorant.  "Never let
them know what you know". A rule to live by. 
	Suddenly, his eyes locked on the main viewscreen. That was a
Quintesson ship! How...how had they found him?
	It was clear. The fleshlings intended on selling him back to the
Qunitessons. Well, I'll take a few of them with me when I go! Mentally,
he locked on to the image of his scatter blaster in subspace. His gun
hand twitched. At the right moment.... 
	"Hound, do you recognize that craft?"
	"Yes, Fleshling. It's a Qunitesson craft. Why did you summon
them here?" 
	"We didn't. They claim to own you. Do you agree with this."
	The scattergun was locked in his mind. He brought his hand up,
so it would materialize in firing position. "No, fleshling. I don't."
	"Very well. " The human turned away. "Kira, radio that ship.
Tell them, 'No deal'!" 
	Kira did as requested. Immediately, the visage of the Quintesson
filled the screen again. It spoke in a voice like melting metal. "You
have made a grevious error. You will..."
	It rotated. "...be destroyed."
	Swindle unreadied the scattergun. These...fleshlings were
willing to face destruction! Their station had no armament worth
mentioning. They knew he was a Decepticon, knew of the War...and yet,
they were willing to risk their lives for him! 
	What utter idiots. 
	Sisko turned back to the monitor. "Commander...or whatever your
title is...." 
	"Call me Supreme One!"
	"Supreme One....why don't you beam aboard. We can work this out
like reasonable beings."
	"No deal! Return our property to us in...." there was a pause as
the universal translator groped with obscure time-referents "5.351209
minutes, or face..." 
	Rotate.
	"...total annihliation!" 
	The image blinked out. Sisko sighed. Could things get any worse?

	Elsewhere/Elsewhen

	"We've been sittin' here for hours. When are those lazy bums
gonna' be done? I wanna HIT something!"
	"Brawl, you always want to hit something. I'm glad I don't share
your baser instincts." 
	"Watch it, Blast-Off, or I'll hit YOU!"
	"Can you fly? No? I didn't think so. Don't anger me, Brawl,
or...."
	Onslaught rolled up, his huge missile-launcher form shifting and
mutating into an imposing robotic shape. "That is enough from BOTH of
you. We have a mission. We must plan strategy carefully. We do not know
what awaits us on the other side of the rift."
	"Strategy? You hit it 'till it stops moving...then hit it some
more!"
	Onslaught dearly wished to turn his subordinate into scrap
metal, but thought better of it. Brawls aggressiveness formed part of
Bruticus' mind. And his mindless love of violence was easy to use. 
Point him at the foe, and that was that. Still....he wondered, suddenly,
if Hotspot, his Autobot counterpart, ever had these sorts of problems.
	His musings were interupted, finally, by Hook. "The repairs have
been accomplished. We can maintain the rift for one Terran hour. Work
fast."
	At last! "Blast-Off! Transform!"
	The arrogant Combaticon did as ordered, growing into an immense
replica of a primitive Terran space-shuttle. Though not quite so large
as the "real thing", he was nonetheless impressive, dwarfing, in this
form, all the others. 
	His cargo bay swung open. Onlaught easily climbed in, but the
smaller Brawl needed a lift from Vortex. When all were inside, Blast-Off
closed up and lifted off, heading straight for the rift.  Twin particle
accellerators appeared on his dorsal wings. Whatever he was going to
face, he would face it *armed*. 
	Unlike Swindle, Blast-off was built for space. The sudden
immersion in hard vacuum was invigorating, not shocking. THIS was his
home, not the ground! Oh, it would be so easy to abandon the others and
simply take off.... 
	No sense wasting time in idle dreaming. That's for lesser
beings. He began broadcasting on several Decepticon frequencies, looking
for their missing partner. He couldn't have drifted far...it's only been
a day or so... 

	Elsewhere....

	"Commander?"
	"Yes, Chief?" I know I'm not going to like hearing this....

	"The rift has reopened...from the other side. A spaceship
appears to have come through. Sir? It looks like...an old Earth space
shuttle. I remember them from my days at the Academy. But....the energy
readings we're getting are off the scale. And...it appears to be
mounting weapons?"
	Sisko looked skyward, wondering if the Bajoran prophets had it
in for him. This was getting out of hand, and in a very short while this
station could be in serious jeapordy. "Friend of yours?" he asked
Swindle. 
	Swindle, at that moment, received a hail. "Swindle, you lummox.
Respond if you're reading this. Repeat. Swindle, you...."
	"Associates, Commander. They..."
	Silently, he was transmitting. "Blast-Off, this is Swindle. I
read you. I have the key to victory over the Autobots! Can you return
home?" 
	"Of course I can. Unlike *you*, I know what I'm doing. Get out
here. We don't have much time."
	Swindle turned to the human commander. "Fleshling, I need to
rejoin my associates...and leave. Thank you for your hospitality...but I
won't be seeing you again." Especially since the Quintessons are going
to turn this station into orbiting rubble in a minute or less.
	"There's an airlock on level six you can use. " Sisko was deeply
puzzled. It couldn't be ending this easily...could it?
	Silently, Swindle signalled again. "Blast-off, this is Swindle.
Meet me by this facilities airlocks...and hurry!"
	Rapidly, he rolled down the corridor, into the lift, out the
lift, around the corner down the hall, causally bowling over any
fleshlings too slow to get out of his way. There's a time for making
nice with the organics...and it isn't now! In under forty five seconds,
he had reached the lock. Switching back to robot mode, he worked the
controls...not fast enough...he summoned his scatter blaster and smashed
open the outer door, leaping into space, just as the space station.... 
	...didn't explode behind him? What were the Quintessons waiting
for?
	"Sir, hull breach on level six...in an airlock.  We're
containing the damage." 
	"Benjamin, the Qunitesson ship is pulling away... it seems to be
going after the shuttle." 
	Inside Blast-Off, Onslaught was fuming. "Why didn't you TELL us
there were Quintessons here?"
	Swindle stammered,"Be...because they were supposed to be busy
blowing up the Fleshling station while we slipped away! How was I to
know they'd go after us first?" 
	An explosion rocked the transformed shuttle. Then a  second,
then a third. Through the hull, they could hear the distinctive whine of
Blast-Off's particle beams. 
	"Blast-Off, open your bay!" Onslaught screamed. "We have only
one chance!" 
	"If I stop evasive manuevers to do that, I'll be destroyed..and
all of you along with me!" 
	Back on the station, the crew watched the battle. It was clear
that the tiny shuttle was no match for the huge ship. Sisko was worried.
The Qunitessons would gladly destroy this station, and Bajor, as soon as
they were done with the robots. Suddenly, it clicked. A jeep. A space
shuttle. His old history had been skimpy on details, but he remembered
this. It was risky...very risky...but they faced certain death at the
hands of the Quintessons. Any risk was better than that. 
	"Dax, Chief...try to jam their sensors. Give those robots a
little breathing room...as it were."
	They complied. ECM systems were activated. The Quintesson ship
faltered in it's barrage, its' shots going wild.
	"They're shooting like Autobots! Now!" Blast Off willed the
cargo bay open. The other four leapt out. He closed the bay and moved
into position, waiting for the signal from Onslaught. It came, just as
the Quintessons targeting devices realigned and refocussed on the five
Decepticons. 
	"COMBATICONS! MERGE AND FORM....BRUTICUS!"
	"Benjamin, subspace distortions are increasing tenfold...what
are those robots doing?" 
	"Merging into a single entity. With any luck, he'll destroy the
other ship and then leave."
	"And without any luck?" Kira asked.
	"He'll destroy the other ship...and then us. Now, watch. One way
or another, this is something we'll never see again."
	They watched. Each robot seemed to be undergoing a rapid series
of contortions and changes. Energy crackled between them as they were
pulled together. Hands appeared, and in the hands, a huge rifle. A head.
Feet. Floating in space, in just a few seconds, was a gargantuan robot,
bristling with weapons. Activating foot-jets, it aligned itself and
moved towards the Quintesson ship. 
	"That...that thing must be fifteen meters high!"
	"Ninteen-point-two, Major." noted Dax.
	Sisko watched. He'd known what ot expect, but still...."Now,
perhaps, you understand why we decided this didn't belong in the history
books. Sixty foot tall beings conducting their wars on your home
planet....takes something out of a culture. Imagine what it must have
been like, then. Major...imagine, if you will, that you went down to the
docking bay to take a runabout...and it suddenly transformed into a
robot like that. Then, imagine if your own tricorder were to do the same
thing...just leap from your hand, unfold itself, and begin battling, for
no reason you could see or understand. We *had* to cover that up, at
that point in our history...there was no way we could face the reality
that our world was being used as a battlefield for another races' wars."
	"Er...Sir. What do we do if the robot wins?"
	"Assuming it goes towards the rift, we close the rift as soon as
it's through. If it doesn't....put the station on evacuation alert now.
We'll try to get as many people off as we can."
	"And if it doesn't win at all?"
	"Then evacuation won't do more than buy us some time."
	The silence following that pronouncement was as deep as the
silence of the void. Bruticus moved rapidly towards the Quintesson ship,
his massive form easily deflecting the weapons aimed at him, while
multiple weapon ports opened and fired from all across his body. The
massive cannon on his back continued to build up power for a single,
overwhelming attack. 
	His thoughts were chaotic. There was Bruticus;he was aware of
himself and his body. But there was blind rage, from Brawl. Cold genius,
from Onslaught. Treachery and deceit, from Swindle. Arrogance and utter
confidence, from Blast-Off. Directed malice, from Vortex.  The best of
each of them merged together in the mass-mind that was Bruticus. He was
all of them;they were all parts of him. None of the non-gestalt
Transformers ever understood what it was like to be joined like this. It
was something only they knew. 
	The enemy. The enemy was in front of them. Bruticus released the
energy he had been building up. It lanced into the Quintesson ship, and
the shield buckled, warped, collapsed. The energy surged through,
tearing metal and sending explosions rippling up and down the helix. It
passed through and faded off into space. 
	The great ship turned, ponderously. The weapons which functioned
were trained on Bruticus, splaying energy across his body. Minor damage
was recorded, slowly growing. Backup circuits cut in. Deep within the
mass-mind, Brawl's anger was brought to the forefront. He raged, as he
always did, and Bruticus acted on that rage. The huge fist formed from
Vortex pulled back, then lashed into the prow of the Quintesson ship.
	It easily smashed through the weakened shields. Once inside, it
summoned a plasma cannon and fired.
	The blast ripped along the long axis of the ship, travelling
down the central core to the engines. It hit the engines, ignited them. 
The explosions travelled back up the ship, consuming it in silent fury,
wrapping itself around Bruticus. Bruticus absorbed the energy, though it
pained him greatly, and laughed silently in the vacuum. He had won!
	The jets fired again, turning him towards the rift. It was
closing, now, the proximity of the battle destabilizing it further.
Onslaught asserted himself, his mind rapidly calculating angles,
vectors, accelerations. Jets fired, stopped, realigned, fired again. He
advanced rapidly on the rift. 
	On DS9, the Ops staff watched as the robot moved into the
twisting hole in space. Through it, they could see the pale blue sky,
brown desert. Then it was through, dissasembling as it passed, into its'
components. 
	"NOW, Chief!"
	O'Brien slammed the launch buttons. The stations carefully
horded photon torpedoes shot outwards, targeted on the rift, and
exploded outside it. The resulting spatial distortion shut the
rift....instantly. 

				*  *  *

	Below, on the Promenade, the Grand Nagus was preparing to leave.
	"Well, Quark...it's been profitable!"
	"Do you really think that information was worth that much
Dilithium?"
	"Dilithium??? Quark, you're not as sharp as I thought you were.
That was *replicated*!"
	"But...Dilithium can't be replicated. That's why it's used to
back latinum..." 
	"Oh, it can be, it can be....if you've got a replicator with the
restraint circuits locked out! But it doesn't last more than a short
while before it crumbles to dust! Utterly worthless! Oh, this is
delicious. Well, goodbye Quark...and don't take any replicated
dilithium!" Chuckling inanely to himself, the Nagus returned to his
transport. 
	Quark shook his head ruefully. Replicated Dilithium. Well,
that's why he's the Nagus. Clever, clever, clever.

	Elsewhere/Elsewhen:
 
	Bruticus emerged from the rift above the Spacebridge,
fragmenting as he did into the Combaticons. Brawl, Swindle, and
Onslaught crashed roughly to the ground. Vortex and Swindle took to the
air until they had gained their bearings, then landed and transformed.
	Back at the Decepticon base, Megatron listened intently to
Swindle's story, carefully questioning the many discrepancies and using
a balanced mix of threat and promise to keep the devious robot to the
truth. After many hours, and many scarred spots on the floor, the story
was out. 
	Megatron scowled, beginning to power up his main cannon. This
shot, he mused, would not be a threat. "You gave schematics of our
technology to FLESHLINGS?" 
	"No, of course not, mighty Megatron! Listen...the fleshlings
always want our technology. So, back on Cybertron, I had some fakes
specially developed and encoded. They look like the real thing. They
contain just enough truth to seem real. But they're totally nonsensical!
The best fleshling scientists could spend their lives trying to follow
them and never build more than a fancy toaster...that wouldn't work!" He
laughed again, thinking of what the Nagus would do when he finally was
told that none of the data was useful.... 
	Megatron smiled. "Very good, Swindle. Perhaps I will make a
warrior of you yet. Now...let's see this 'dilithium' you claim to have
received...." 

				-FINI-

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