Project Omega

Austine was a relatively peaceful world, one that had no native sentient life forms. Tall trees and still ponds covered the majority of its surface; nearly the entire small planetoid could be compared to a municipal park, aside from the large ocean that stretched around the single landmass.

But Austine held darker designs.

The Predacon military officer named Firestorm picked through the rubble of what used to be a Predacon research station. He was a rather tall and lanky Predacon, and his coloration was predominately red with silver highlights. Capable of converting to a high speed rocket-powered vehicle, Firestorm’s alternate mode was at odds with his personality; he was actually quite slow and meticulous with his work, preferring precision in lieu of speed.

It was this exact attention to detail that had sent Firestorm to Austine. The Predacon outpost whose ruins Firestorm now poked through had missed several security checks. Fearing the worst, the Tripedicus Council dispatched Firestorm to Austine, along with a guard detail. Firestorm had not questioned his orders, nor had he asked what was on the planet that warranted such concern. He was just a soldier; he did as he was told. To disobey a directive from the Council could result in imprisonment . . . and probably worse.

A shiny object attracted the Predacon’s attention, and he bent over and extracted a laser disk from underneath a pile of bricks. Firestorm turned it over carefully in his hands, and then placed the disc in a small visual projector that he had concealed in a compartment on his right leg. A green and yellow Predacon appeared on the hologram before him; Firestorm could see that he was on a ship somewhere.

“Greetings,” the unknown Predacon stated, “my name is Gouge, and I am a member of the Tripedicus Scientific Commission deployed to Austine. Or rather, I’m on my way to Austine at this point. I’ve started this personal journal to record my progress on my experiments that I’ve been assigned by the Tripedicus Council. It is now Galactic Date 14.32.19.2.32 . . . but the Galactic Date is so hard to use, I’ll just use the Earth date for this. It’s January the ninth, 2320, for the planet of Austine.”

Firestorm ejected the disk. The journal was obviously long; he needed to watch it elsewhere. Wordlessly, he returned to his vessel.

“It’s January the ninth, 2320,” Gouge continued, his ghostly visage visible from Firestorm’s hologram projector. “We’re currently en route to Austine, about three Charrian days distant, I imagine. On board, we’ve got the commander of the security detail, myself, my lab assistants, a score of guards, and four criminals. I don’t know their names; the Tripedicus Council refused me that information. For all intents and purposes, they are nothing more than blank slates for me to use for my experiments. This mission is being referred to as ‘Project Omega.’

“I’m a little bit nervous about Project Omega as a whole. The Tripedicus Council is sending us to Austine to get us out of the view of the Maximals. What is the intent of this mission, and why is it so secret, you ask? Well, if you didn’t already know, the Maximals tried to invent an invincible soldier several years ago under a program that they called ‘Protoform X.’ Unfortunately, all the research was classified and lost. I understand that we’ve got agents trying to recover it, but the Tripedicus Council wants the Scientific Commission to replicate it as closely as possibly. That’s why I’m being sent to Austine; that’s why I’ve been supplied live subjects. I haven’t even seen them yet; they’ve been locked up in stasis tubes. I suppose I’ll get to know them well enough after we get to Austine, though.

“12 January, 2320, about 0834 hours.

“I’m in luck. Austine has a roughly twenty-four hour day, approximating those of Earth. Although Austine is quite a bit smaller than Sol III, it turns on its axis much slower. For the remainder of Project Omega, I will use standardized Earth time and dates.

“We landed on Austine yesterday and we’ve already moved into the scientific facility. The Tripedicus Council had dispatched a construction crew to build it before we got here, and they’re leaving this morning. The facility is very impressive; I’m slightly taken aback by everything we’ve got here.

“There is an enclosed atrium, with local trees and fauna growing tall inside of it. I imagine that it will be used as a training ground after Project Omega commences. There is also a holographic firing range, an underwater training facility, and a survival ground. The construction crew also delivered alien life forms for training purposes, including an icthyoc.

“There’s also quite a few amenities here, including a sub-space communicator, a refined energon processor, and a hologram library. My laboratory is spacious and includes all the tools that I could possibly need for these procedures. In addition, I’ve got my own personal quarters, which are much bigger than my old flat on Charr.

“The criminals have been taken down to a holding facility and will remain in their stasis pods until I deem it time to free them. My intent, as of this recording, is to experiment on only one at a time to minimize the risk of collaboration and escape attempts.

“Actual experimentation will not start for several days. Tomorrow, my assistants and I will sit down and analyze all of the intelligence surrounding the Protoform X project. But for now, I need to get some rest. It’s been a long journey, and there’s still much left to be done.”

“13 January, 2320.

“It’s Friday the 13^thhere on Austine. I understand that this is supposedly a bad omen, at least according to the humans.

“But I digress. My assistants and I began our analysis of the Protoform X project today. Most of it is missing, classified and therefore unavailable to us Predacons. But what we did derive astounded us.

“From what I can tell, the Maximals tried to change the very nature of the Spark core! Those fools, meddling with the very fabric of creation like that. I have already decided that Project Omega will not seek to change, extract, or otherwise damage the Sparks of these prisoners in any form or fashion.

“We will subvert the minds of the prisoners, to firmly place them under the control of their Predacon masters. Mind control has been experimented with before, with varying effects. I understand that the original Megatron used to reformat individuals often, firmly placing them under his allegiance; however, the science behind that particular machine has been lost since we downgraded to Maximal and Predacon.

“However, I have an idea; I will begin with enslaving the body, and the mind will logically follow. I intend to reform the criminals into cybernetic beings, being part robotic, part biological. Biological Transformers were first experimented with during the rebirth of Cybertron, when Nebulans and humans underwent the Headmaster and Targetmaster processes. Powermasters and Pretenders then followed.

“What I intend to do is to take the science of the Pretender process and apply it to Project Omega. These criminals will first have their bodies grafted with biological components; the mind, shattered from the traumatic process, will be a simple matter to enslave and reprogram to Predacon purposes.

“I suppose that I would be uncomfortable with this prospect at any other time. However, these are hardened criminals. They have earned their sentences.”

“14 January, 2320.”

“The sun is setting now on Austine, and the day has been very long and difficult for myself and my staff. We awoke our first subject from stasis today and began preparation for the procedure to biologically enhance him.

“Many will probably question my decision to use this biological process, instead of continuing experiments into mechanics, the Transformer’s natural state. To be blunt, it is because biology allows for greater flexibility and reflexes than mechanics—be they created or naturally occurring—can ever hope to achieve. This was certainly evidenced in the aforementioned Headmaster and Pretender processes.

“We have christened our first subject ‘Dirgegun;’ he converts into a super-sonic jet. He is naturally nervous and scared by all that is happening. I almost regret having to subject him to these procedures.

“My intent for Dirgegun is to give him an animal-like alternate form; I believe an insect should be sufficient. Insects are Earth’s most resilient creatures, and I cannot think of a more fitting transformation for Dirgegun. He will retain his current speed but his maneuverability will be enhanced ten-fold, even when he is carrying a full load of missiles. We will also incorporate a host of weaponry into his body, making Dirgegun a living weapon.

“My main concern for Dirgegun is his current psychological state. I have no idea what he did to have him sentenced to become a test subject for Project Omega, but he seems almost child-like. He continually asks what will happen to him, and when he can return home. All attempts to explain his situation have been for naught; he simply disregards it. He is extraordinarily simplistic.

“Today consisted of building a psychological profile and some basic restructuring. We began by removing Dirgegun’s wings and also conducted a wrist and lower arm overhaul. Tomorrow we will finish the body restructuring and introduce biological components.”

“16 January, 2320.

“The process fell behind schedule, but we have completed the rebuilding of Dirgegun. Currently, forty-five percent of his body is biological, the rest mechanical.

“As I mentioned several days ago, rebuilding Diregun completely—including his very mind—proved a simple matter. Once the body accepted the organic components, altering the operation of his brain module proved easy.

“However, Diregun is now devoid of personality; he is little more than an inanimate object. He will respond to verbal commands, but there is no initiative present. I am establishing a hypothesis regarding this matter; is it, perhaps, the basic personality will effect the cranial restructuring? Diregun was fundamentally a passive personality, and he is now the epitome of passiveness.

“However, I might be able to salvage the situation if Diregun proves successful in combat testing. As of thus far, I am disappointed.”

“17 Jaunary, 2320.

“Combat testing of Dirgegun commenced today. My initial perception is that he is deadly enough; he will respond to every command without failure or hesitation. The problems arise when he is given a more complicated task, however.

“We started the combat testing with transforming. He was able to do this without any problems. Basic combat also proved no problem; he has uncanny aim with a rifle if told where to shoot. However, close-hand combat proved problematic. He would not respond to any outside stimuli unless explicitly told to react. For example, we unleashed the icthyoc on him in the atrium; he simply stood there, sustaining wounds, until we told him to destroy it. This he did with no qualms.

“Flight proved to be more trouble than it was worth. He would transform and fly easily enough if ordered explicitly. However, Diregun would then fly in a simple straight line, unable to account for obstacles, wind speeds, weather, or even fuel consumption. In short, my initial perception of Diregun is that he is a failure to Project Omega. I will attempt to restructure his brain module tomorrow to allow more personal freedom; however, I doubt that I can reverse this process.”

“18 January, 2320.

“Today marked a tough call for me. I returned Dirgegun to the operating table and opening his brain casing in an attempt to right the problems that plagued him. However, I was unsuccessful in this attempt. Dirgegun, after the surgery, remained as unresponsive as ever.

“He would simply refuse to react to any stimuli. You could punch him, shoot him, throw him into the water, anything . . . and he would do nothing unless told to act. Although I learned much from Dirgegun, such unresponsiveness is unacceptable for the Predacon cause. It was with great regret that I destroyed Dirgegun.

“I managed to salvage most of the cybernetic components from his body and am currently analyzing them to determine if there is anything that I can do to make the next subject more responsive. We will awaken the next one in two days, conduct a psychological profile, and then begin the restructuring process.”

Firestorm leaned back, having watched the first logs on the disk. He rubbed his optics, and then departed his vessel. It was night out now, and he stared out over the rubble that now made up the Predacon secret scientific facility.

He looked out towards the woodline, where luminescent insects now buzzed in the otherwise tranquil evening. Firestorm watched them for several moments, wondering why the Predacons would establish a secret installation here. It seemed too . . . nice.

Firestorm continued to gaze at the insects, and then paused. There was a yellow patch coming from a patch of bushes . . . but it looked wrong. Rectangular, almost. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the rectangular yellow light was gone.

Primus, he was getting tired. He turned towards a sergeant that continued was pushing through a pile of rubble. “Find anything?” Firestorm asked.

The sergeant shook his head. “Nothing yet, sir. We managed to get our hands on some weapons, all of which were empty, but nothing besides that. I don’t think that we’re going to find any survivors.”

Firestorm sighed. “Very well,” he responded. “Listen, I’m still going over that disc I found earlier. I’m going to go watch a bit more, and I’ll be back out to check in with you guys after that.”

The sergeant nodded, and Firestorm returned to the ship. He pushed the playback button on the hologram projector, and settled back to watch the next set of logs.

“21 January, 2320.

“We awoke the second criminal today. We’ve decided to call him ‘Hellscream.’ I know that this is actually a fairly common name among Predacons, but I felt that it was a good name for this particular individual.

“Hellscream converts into an aquatic vehicle; to this end, I am determined to reconfigure him into a shark-like submarine. This will enhance in maneuverability in the water. Hellscream will also be fitted with a host of weapons throughout his body.

“This Predacon differs greatly from Dirgegun. Whereas Dirgegun was overly simplistic prior to the procedure, Hellscream is a well-rounded individual. He is not the most intelligent Predacon I have met, but he is still able to discuss the Great War and works of art in acute detail.

“To this end, I have decided to not try to enslave his mind. It proved far too effective with Dirgegun, and I am not willing to loose another subject in such a fashion.

“The procedure began today; we started with a basic restructuring of Hellscream’s alternate mode and then added a pair of mechanical fins. We will introduce the biological components tomorrow.”

“22 January, 2320.

“As of this recording, we have completed the Project Omega procedure on Hellscream. From what I can tell, he is still mentally competent and can recall everything that happened before and after the operation. He is eager to test his new abilities. However, I have ordered him to spend the rest of the day recuperating. Combat testing will begin in earnest tomorrow morning.

“I am hopeful that Hellscream will prove to be a much more viable solution than Dirgegun.”

“23 January, 2320.

“Testing on Hellscream began today. We began by placing him in what might be considered his natural environment—that is, the aquatic facility that the construction crew built for us.

“Hellscream took to his new environment immediately, and his maneuverability in the water is something to marvel at. Hellscream himself seems to enjoy his newfound abilities; he continually vocalized this throughout the training session.

“However, the lack of any form of mental control over Hellscream is beginning to wear on my nerves. He simply refused to submit to basic rifle training, only relenting when I threatened him with physical violence. When we finally got him to go to the rifle range, he shot perfect bulls-eyes.

“My main concern with Hellscream is that he will not respond to basic orders. I fear that I may have erred by not incorporating any control measures into him.”

“24 January, 2320.

“My concern regarding Hellscream is only falling deeper. He has no initiative, no desire to succeed. We took him out for basic hand-to-hand combat training in the simulation room today; he simply sat down and refused to fight until we told him that we would ensure that he would not have his nightly Energon ration otherwise. After the threat was made, he fought like a mad being, simply to get the training out of the way.

“I have informed Hellscream that this continued negative attitude and lack of motivation will result in his termination, not only from this project, but in a very literal sense. He seemed extremely apathetic at this comment, and simply shrugged his shoulders.

“’Don’t care,’ is what he told me.

“I have sent the training profiles on both Dirgegun and Hellscream back to Charr. I will receive the Tripedicus Council’s official word on the project tomorrow.”

“26 January, 2320.

“The Tripedicus Council was not pleased with the results as of thus far, and have essentially stated that they want to pull the plug on my funding. I pleaded with them, and they finally relented and will allow me to continue experimentation on the last two convicts. However, they ordered Hellscream’s immediate termination. I had no choice but to comply.

“I still have two more chances to get this right; I will think of Hellscream as my ‘control’ experiment, since he had no changes made to his mind.”

Firestorm rubbed his optics, and paused the disk once more. What he was hearing and seeing . . . it was fantastic, impossible to think of, really. It broke every rule that the Galactic Federation had made in regards to the rights of sentient beings.

But the proof is in the pudding, as the old Earth expression went. Firestorm looked out at the rubble, where the sentries continued their search. Firestorm journeyed outwards, needing a break from the disk.

“Sir!” a guard called out. Firestorm turned around, finding himself facing on of the searchers.

“What is it?” Firestorm demanded.

“We’ve found signs of blaster fire in one of the demolished corridors,” he stated. “But that’s not the most important thing. We’re missing Ripfang.”

“What?” Firestorm demanded. “When is the last time anybody saw him?”

“About an hour ago,” the sentry supplied. “We’ve been trying to raise him on his communicator, but he wouldn’t reply. We finally tracked the signal down, but we found it dropped behind a pile of boulders about a kilometer out.”

Firestorm sighed. “Keep looking,” he announced. “I’ve got suspicions, but don’t advertise his disappearance yet. I don’t want to cause a panic.”

“Yes, sir,” the sentry then saluted and took his leave. Firestorm turned in the direction of his ship once more.

He needed to get to the bottom of this, and quickly.

“27 January, 2320,” Gouge’s ghostly form recounted from the hologram projector, “and we’ve begun the biotransfiguration process of our third test subject. We are calling this one Maximum Body Count, or Max B for short. He earned the nickname for head butting one of the guards as soon as he was awakened.

“He is highly irrational and will not respond to any attempts to calm him, sedate him, or reason with him. We will conduct the biotransfiguration surgery in one go tomorrow, as I doubt we will be able to conduct the successive surgeries that proved successful before with such an irate test subject.

“Already Max B is threatening us with death. I have high hopes for this subject. I have devised a mental control, one that will give him full reign over his anger. However, he will be overcome with incredible pain as soon as he directs any sort of threat to his Predacon masters.”

“28 January, 2320.

“I have completed the surgery to Max B. He has yet to awaken, but his body immediately accepted the cybernetic components. I will give a full update tomorrow.”

“29 January, 2320.

“I believe that I have finally achieved the success I have for which I have been searching these past few weeks. Max B remembers everything prior to his surgery, but is kept in check through the torture controls I installed inside of him.

“Already he has tried to dismember me three times today, but each time he begins to advance, the receptors take over and he subjected to a numbing pain.

“I am quite proud of the adjustments I’ve made to his body. Max B turns into a very strong and fast wolf. His entire back panel can be removed and used as a massive melee weapon, as it has a hidden claw within it. The tail section also detaches, and can be used as either a club or a missile launcher. One adjustment that I am most proud of is the regenerating vertebrae. Two of Max B’s ribs are exposed to the open air, and can be removed from his midsection and used as projectiles or bladed weapons. These ribs, as mentioned earlier, will regenerate on their own. I image that separating such sections of his own body, being partially biological, would result in incredible pain. However, Max B shoulders this and bears his weapons with a near-joyous voracity.

“I am filled with a sense of awe at what I have created. Max B is the perfect fighting machine, a profound ruthlessness that only I can contain. Testing will begin in earnest tomorrow.”

“30 January, 2320.

“Everything I have mentioned about Max B continues to hold true. I pitted him against five Gladiator battle droids today; Max B destroyed each within seconds. It was marvelous to watch.

“His aim is extraordinarily accurate. It is a joy to observe Max B conduct his work. Such strength, such passion for destruction.

“I have already delivered the test data to the Tripedicus Council, and they are also ecstatic with the results. I have been ordered to proceed with the final test subject. Hopefully, he will have the same appetite for mayhem as Max B. Hopefully, though, he will mind his masters better . . .

“Max B tried to attack me again today, but the pain receptors held. Thank Primus for that, for I fear that my child would destroy me otherwise.”

“1 February, 2320.”

“I began the biotransfiguration of the final subject today. All this work is leaving my staff exhausted, but we are nearing the end now. The Tripedicus Council wants minimum testing on this final specimen and then want to conduct a real combat exercise with him.

“I am calling the fourth and final product of Project Omega Thrustor. He converts into a biomechanical velociraptor, and holds a host of weaponry in his tail compartment.

“I took a slightly different control measure with Thrustor; I decided to salvage some of the original mechanics from the Dirgegun mishap. Likewise, Thrustor’s mind was also wiped. He remembers nothing prior to his operation.

“Thrustor does possess free will, but it has constraints. Thinking of betrayal is an impossibility for him, although he is able to adapt to his missions. In this regard, I am hoping that he will become even more of a success than Max B. Initial testing will begin shortly.”

“2 February, 2320.

“Thrustor’s testing is going very well. He is a proficient marksman, although he is not as good as Max B. In addition, he is cunning on the battlefield, adapting easily to his new tasks.

“We have had no security issues with him, either. Unlike Max B, he has not attacked any of the guards or staff. He does what he is told, but often finds ways to conduct his tasks in more efficient manners.

“I suppose that Thrustor is a success . . . but still . . .

“I realize that this is unprofessional, but I must say that I believe my personal success lies with Max B. He is fury itself. The Tripedicus Council thinks otherwise, however; they are not comfortable with my reports that he has attacked members of the staff. They want him to remain here to allow time for further conditioning.”

“6 February, 2320.

“Testing is still being conducted on both Max B and Thrustor; while Max B has the greater strength and willpower, Thrustor is more intelligent and quick. Thrustor has proceeded nicely, and will be dispatched tomorrow for his first assignment. Max B, however . . .

“Testing will continue for now. The Tripedicus Council has expressed its desire for me to destroy him.

“No! This I will not allow. Max B is my own. No harm will come to him.”

“8 February, 2320.

“It is a day filled with deep sadness for me. Thrustor left yesterday evening, going off to join part in the Predacon Interstellar Infantry.

“But that is not the most important thing. Max B killed today.

“One of the guards was going to wake him this morning for his morning ration and exercise when it happened. Max B had been hiding under his bunk, and when the guard went inside to look for Max B, he grabbed the guard by the ankles and dragged him under. He was dead within seconds, a victim of his own face being bludgeoned in.

“All of my records indicate that the pain receptors were working. He simply blocked them out long enough to kill.

“The head of the security detail notified the Tripedicus Council, and I have been ordered to terminate Max B immediately. Right now, the child is in stasis.

“This must not happen. I will not allow it to.”

“9 February, 2320.

“Project Omega has been declared a resounding failure.

“Thrustor abandoned his post yesterday evening; he has not been heard from since. I do not know what happened within his biochemistry to allow that to occur.

“Dirgegun and Hellscream are dead, Max B awaiting execution, and Thrustor missing . . .

“My hopes are smashed now. I will never be able to apply to the Predacon Academy of Sciences with these failures hanging over my head.

“I sit here now, the syringe of the deadly techno-organic virus in my hand, struggling with my orders to kill Max B. I find that I cannot.

“I awoke Max B briefly this morning. It was then that he spoke his first words to me;

“’What have you done to me?’

“By Primus . . . what have I done? What have I become?”

Firestorm sighed and looked down at the playback on the hologram projector; the disk was nearly over now. He rubbed his optics wearily and watched the final recorded segment. The Predacon Gouge appeared on the screen, but now he was in a darkened room; he looked scared. He gave no indication of the date.

“This is probably going to be my final recording. Death is upon me now.

“I dabbled in sciences I didn’t understand; I attempted to play God. Such foolishness. I allowed my hubris to overcome me and now we have all paid for it with our lives.

“There was . . . there was an electrical storm. It struck the transmission towers. There’s no way I can call for help . . .”

A clanging noise could be heard on the disk, and Gouge peered upwards, a look of total dread upon his face.

“The power generators were taken out, as well. Complete system failure across the board. Max B escaped . . .

“We’re being hunted. Oh Primus, my child is coming to kill me. Oh sweet, merciful Primus . . .”

The projection went black, but the sound feedback continued. Firestorm could hear metal being torn asunder, and then a growl. And then, screaming. Screams that seemed to echo on and on and on, until finally . . . horribly . . . they ceased.

Firestorm stepped outside of his ship, now sure of what had happened to Gouge and the installation. Somewhere, out there on Austine, Max B was still lurking. Hunting. Awaiting to avenge himself upon those who had turned him into a mockery of life.

The Predacon guard came running up to him. “Sir,” he announced with a salute. “We’ve lost two more guards. What are your orders?”

Firestorm opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden sound of metal being torn apart reached his ears. The ship . . . it was coming from the ship . . .

Firestorm ran quickly to the rear of his vessel, and his mouth fell open when he caught site of what stood before him. Two of the ship’s rear engine thrusters had been ripped apart, torn completely out from the back of the craft. There was no way they could escape the planet.

“Sir? What’s going on?” the guard demanded.

Despite himself, Firestorm gave a grim smile.

“We’re being hunted.”

Somewhere, out in the Austine hills, a scream billowed outward into the night. And then, silence.