This is a story that's been in the drawer a long time. I've only ever gotten two critical reads on it and both people had favorable comments, but for reasons that were wildly opposite, primarily because one person 'got' what was really going on and the other didn't…I think. I've always wondered since how other readers would respond to this one and posting it to this site seems a pretty good way to find out, besides which there aren't enough Sisko stories out there. There likely aren't too many DS9/Beast Wars crossovers either, but hey—I think it turned out half-way plausible! Maybe… Sort of... Please remember that this is set off a fifth-season DS9 episode so a couple of the more memorable series events and character developments wouldn't have happened yet. I'm also rating this one an 'M' because it revolves about workplace-related duty and responsibility, a subject which strikes me as something that'd seem pretty boring to anyone but an adult. Younger readers are welcome to have a look—it's safe enough for even the smallest kidlet, honest—but don't say you weren't warned if you find it all really dull or even incomprehensible.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All things relating to the Transformers and Star Trek universes belong to the respective copyright holders. This is a fan story written for the nonprofit entertaining fun of it.

THE DECISIONS WE MAKE

Chapter 1 – The Repercussions Of Haste

Benjamin Sisko packed slowly for his trip back to Earth. It was difficult to know how much to take. He'd been assured that he'd be away from Deep Space Nine for at least a fortnight, possibly twice as long, but no more than six weeks. It all depended on how quickly the civilian end of the inquiry proceeded and on what they concluded. He hesitated when he looked over his leisure wear, debating with himself whether he'd even have time to make use of it, then decided to think positively and reached for several of his favourite printed shirts and trousers. If necessary, he could always retrieve some of the outfits that were still hanging in the same spare closet at his father's house. They might no longer be in style or to his taste, but he knew they'd be there; his father hated throwing anything out. Most especially not when it was a reminder of his son.

Sisko looked at the time and sighed. The morning ops briefing was likely just finishing up. The new station commander liked his reports thorough and complete. The discussions he held afterwards took longer now too and were more detailed, reflective of the growing complexity of the threat posed by the new Dominion/Cardassian alliance. Sisko had developed confidence in his stand-in, but still wished he weren't leaving at this time. And he wouldn't have been it if hadn't been for the disaster…

Jadzia Dax's thin voice on his office intercom: "Benjamin. Are you watching the news?"

"No. Why? Is there—"

"Turn it on now."

He'd learned never to argue with that tone and punched up the Federation broadcast. The day's news roundup was already underway. He stared at the grave face of the announcer on the screen and tried to make sense of what he was hearing.

"—yet released details for the cause of this unprecedented tragedy, but will shortly. In the meantime, rescue workers are struggling to maintain the lives of the few survivors. For those viewers joining us late, our headline again: An ITU carrier has gone down in the Solosis system in the DMZ, killing most of the six hundred and thirty-nine persons listed aboard. More details will be forthcoming as soon as—"

Dax burst into his office without knocking. "Oh Benjamin," she exclaimed in anguish. "All those people!"

Sisko could not take his eyes off the screen. "Solosis Three," he whispered to himself.

He turned away and put his hands over his face.

He still remembered that moment when he'd first heard of the disaster, when he'd known it was Solosis Three upon which the carrier had crash-landed even though this last hadn't been made public for an additional two days. And when full knowledge of that poor beleaguered poisoned world had finally come out, then came the outrage and the questions and the cries for accountability. Sisko hadn't been at all surprised when Starfleet came after him…

"Well, Captain Sisko, I suppose you know why I'm here."

"Yes, sir."

Admiral Nechayev suggested that he sit down. Though worded as an invitation, it came out sounding like an order; anything Nechayev said to her subordinates had that air about it. But she knew her stuff. Ben Sisko eyed her hopefully.

"I won't lie to you, Captain. We did our best, but you're still going to have to testify. We've appointed you assistance, of course, and Admiral Mack himself will be taking the stand on your behalf. That may be enough to protect you. It may not. It would have helped if we could have said that you'd cleared your actions with Starfleet beforehand."

Sisko felt his cheeks burn. "I understand. I'll have to return to Earth?"

"Yes, to San Francisco. The inquiry will be held at Headquarters. That's a point in your favour, actually."

"Yes, thank you." His mind ticked over rapidly, adjusting, calculating. "How long will I be gone?"

"Two to four weeks. We'll be assigning a temporary commander to act in your place. Given the current situation in your sector, I'm afraid Major Kira won't do."

"Of course," Sisko said, and meant it. He, better than anyone, knew the magnitude of the powder keg in development. "Who will it be?" he asked.

"You wouldn't know him. He's from Cybertron, one of their most experienced war leaders. We've decided that a fresh perspective would be valuable and Cybertron has offered the assistance."

"Cybertron? That's in…the Janar outback."

"Yes. The mechanoid world."

Sisko's mind suffered a hitch in step. "I…don't understand, Admiral. Cybertron isn't a Federation member. They're not even eligible."

"True," admitted Nechayev, "but they've been watching our affairs and they're not stupid. They know that the Dominion threat could eventually impact on them, however indirectly."

"But—"

"The decision has already been made, Captain. Commander Optimus will arrive from Cybertron tomorrow and I will be staying for several days to help orient him and oversee your command change-over. Do you have a problem with that?"

Sisko said that he didn't.

A wan smile touched Sisko's face. Optimus… He couldn't even make sense of the name at first, had wondered why he had a name at all. Like everyone else, he knew that Cybertron was an artificial world populated by sentient machines, and that was pretty well all he'd known. The station computer hadn't been much help in furthering his knowledge. The information in the database was sketchy at best, although it had revealed the Cybertrons to be mostly humanoid-patterned in general make and shape, robots really, to use an archaic term. The more he'd found out, the more his doubts grew, and he began envisioning a clunking Borg-like entity with a droning monotone voice and wondered what had happened to so impair Starfleet command's judgement. And when he'd finally actually met his replacement…

He had thought at first that it was a bizarre joke. Nechayev had come to his office unannounced and had walked in on him without even waiting for an acknowledgement to her knock. Beside her, walking on all fours, was a gorilla. It reared itself into a bipedal stance and Sisko saw that it was some sort of construct, a synth animal perhaps, but this realization did nothing to lessen his confusion. He stood up and stared into the synth's human-like brown eyes and barely noticed that Nechayev was scowling at him. Then she introduced Commander Optimus.

Sisko had hesitated for a further excruciating moment before finally extending his hand. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I was expecting something else."

"Understood," Optimus had replied in a genial tone. He shook hands with Sisko, evidently familiar with the ritual. The big animal palm was cooler than it ought to be, the hard structures beneath the pretend skin felt oddly yielding. "This mode is better suited for your environment," the Cybertron officer explained further. "Unless you have some objection, I prefer to remain in it."

"Of course he has no objection," Nechayev snapped before Ben could answer. She still seemed unaccountably angry with him. "Whatever is most comfortable for you, Commander, is what we all prefer," she added.

Optimus glanced at the admiral out of his strange faux eyes. And in that glance, Ben Sisko saw many things: that Optimus was unfazed by Nechayev, that he found her politicking amusing, that he was made—literally made—for command and understood its intricacies to a dispassionate, exhaustive degree unattainable by humans, and that he already felt comfortable standing upon the command deck of this alien station.

Ben's observations depressed him terribly.

Dumb-struck, that's what he'd been, thought Sisko. He'd never forget the image the two of them had made, the small brittle admiral and the great hulking brute beside her. Until he stood up. That's when you saw the intellect shining forth. And the personality. Sisko hadn't expected a personality…

Much later that same day, Sisko had sought refuge from his troubling thoughts by breaking with routine and going to Quark's for a late solitary supper. It hadn't been the introspective ordeal he'd anticipated. He'd found Dax and Worf already ensconced on the upper dining level and the Trill refused to allow Ben any opportunity to wallow in self-pity.

"Join us. I insist."

Sisko saw her companion stiffen. "I came for a meal and—"

"What a coincidence. So did we." She reached sideways to pat the Klingon's arm, but otherwise ignored him. "We just ordered, Benjamin. Please sit with us."

And so he did and Worf had yielded to the inevitable with a curt nod and an audible sigh as he moved to make room. Once they were settled, Dax zeroed in on the obvious.

"So where's Commander Optimus?"

"I left him with the admiral."

"How lucky for him," she remarked with studied blandness. Ben smiled, not much, but enough to tell her that it was safe to go on. "The commander's certainly not what I expected," she continued. "From the graphics in the files, I assumed he'd appear, well, robotic."

"So did I," said Sisko. "Apparently they can alter their exostructure. It has to do with adjusting for the prevailing environment."

"Really?" Dax paused for a moment, considering. "I asked him about it too and he told me that he felt we'd be more comfortable relating to him if he adopted an organic form."

"He said that to you?"

"Yes, Benjamin. I also asked if he was familiar with Earth, because of the form he chose. He laughed and said, yes and no, and that he'd tell me more about that later." A glint of amusement shone in her eyes as she recalled the Cybertron's surprising banter. "Sounds promising," she concluded.

Sisko didn't see it that way. He was fighting an upswell of sudden hostility prompted by a certain jealousy. Optimus had not even taken official command and already he was saving his confidences for his staff to be; the knowledge left Ben cold and unreasonable. "I don't much like the sound of that," he said. "It implies that he anticipated being discriminated against."

"Perhaps he did," Dax allowed.

"Well, I don't like it," Sisko flared. "It's not an attitude I would expect from an officer, not a Starfleet officer. We've grown beyond judging others by their appearance. Intimating otherwise is insulting. I've dealt with thousands of Starfleet personnel over the years and have never once felt myself discriminated against, never."

"I have," Worf interjected.

Sisko glowered at the Klingon, who glowered right back. Dax, in a loud oblivious voice, exclaimed, "I wonder why Commander Optimus didn't take a human form?"

Worf, distracted, just as he'd been meant to be, answered her. "That would be dishonest."

"And copying a gorilla isn't?"

"It is an animal. It has no rights. And the deception fades the instant he speaks."

"You and I need to talk some more about lesser beings, speaking of attitudes," Dax said, smiling again and patting the muscular Klingon arm for the second time. From out of the corner of one eye, she could see that Ben's brief anger was already dissipating. Now he just looked regretful and sad. Dax wished she could help him, but knew herself to be in a difficult position, torn as she was between her professional obligations to her new superior and her personal feelings for the old. She cast about for a more prudent topic of conversation.

Aburpt, irate shouting drew their collective interest. All three looked over the railing and were surprised to see the very source of their dispute on the deck below. Optimus was standing upright with his hands planted on his hips and Quark, gesticulating wildly, was facing him. Within seconds the Ferengi was cringing and fawning, the hard mutter of words had become wheedling, placating. Quark lifted a hand to indicate Dax's table and Optimus looked up, spotted them, and waved. A moment later he was up on the upper level, asking to join them, and Worf was resignedly scrunching over another place.

If Optimus was aware of the tension present, he chose to ignore it. The face he showed them was friendly and open.

"We were just talking about you, sir," Dax confessed, shooting a glance Ben's way. "What was all that about down below?"

"Oh, just a misinterpretation. It seems that your barkeep doesn't appreciate pets in his establishment and took it upon himself to yell for my owner to come and collect me." His bald recitation broke into a very human-sounding chuckle. "I set him straight."

"The Ferengi has no propriety," Worf growled.

"I'm more interested in knowing how he picked you out," Dax mused. "A lot of aliens come through Quark's. From his perspective, Commander, you should've blended right in."

"Ah. He explained that. Somewhat. Something about a gorilla in a…holosuite programme, is that it? 'Primate Passions'? Primal Passions'? He was very disjointed, I'm afraid. It was difficult to make sense of what he was saying. Nonetheless, it is how he recognized this mode."

"'Primal Passions', you say." Dax repeated the title with utmost seriousness. Her gaze sought out Worf's face and she winked at him. "We haven't run across that one yet."

Quark himself showed up to serve them shortly afterwards and made such an obsequious spectacle of himself as he sought to curry favour with the new officer that Sisko was stirred out of his funk and felt obliged to apologize to Optimus once the Ferengi was gone. The Cybertron good-naturedly shrugged his efforts aside. He hadn't been bothered by Quark's shenanigans at all.

"Actually," Optimus went on, "having a bit of abuse thrown my way made me feel more at home. You don't know my regular crew. I'm privileged if they use my proper name. To be honest, I've already heard enough honorifics today to last me a stellar cycle. Even the rank you've given me is not entirely correct; 'commander' is merely my task designation, and only a secondary one at that."

"Secondary?" Sisko echoed, startled. "If all this is secondary, then what do you consider primary?"

"I teach." The wide mouth parted and Optimus favoured them with a sudden toothy smile, whitely brilliant against the dark skin. "Philosophy at one of our higher learning centers. And I supervise the department."

"You teach philosophy?"

The images were too incongruous for Ben. Professors and war heroes, mechanoids and philosophy—he struggled with the jumps. When Optimus had first come aboard, he'd physically interfaced with the station computer and had downloaded whatever information he'd wanted into his own memory. What need would a being capable of such have for any learning at all? He looked helplessly towards Dax and found her regarding the Cybertron with fresh interest, saw respect already kindling in Worf, and felt his equilibrium totter.

Why had Starfleet chosen a supervisor to replace him?

Reflecting back, Sisko wasn't proud of the way he'd initially behaved towards Optimus, but the Cybertron never had taken any apparent notice of his rudeness nor had he let it foster a grudge. Sisko was glad, for he'd grown to like him. After he discovered what Starfleet had known all along…

"What you are about to see, Captain, will not leave this room," Nechayev had said. Sisko had nodded his understanding. Odo and Optimus had waited and watched. The four of them stood alone in the briefing room and there was a guard at the door in the corridor outside and full security protocols had been implemented. Ben was wary and tense, yet a part of him felt already vindicated. He'd suspected from the start that the admiral had been feeding him lines.

Odo shapeshifted into a duplicate of the Cybertron officer. The replication was exquisite. Sisko could not tell them apart. He said as much to Nechayev and she handed him a tricorder.

"Scan them," she ordered. "Both of them."

Founders replicated to the molecular level. It was what made them undetectable, detestable. He looked over the inconclusive analysis the machine made of Optimus's synthetic organic body and then perused the same readings the tricorder got from—

No, not the same. These readings were stable. A whole chunk of the data differed. Sisko's eyes opened wide and his mouth compressed. He compared the scans again and again.

Admiral Nechayev caught the Cybertron's eye and nodded her sleek head. "If you would, please, Commander."

The bulky gorilla form crouched, almost as if preparing to dive from a springboard, then seem to fold in on itself and partially melt. Armoured metal forms burst forth. Optimus stepped back and then forward on legs which had altered into sturdy mechanized limbs and grinned at Ben out of a robotic face transmuted beyond all recognition.

Sisko sucked in an arrested breath. "You're a shapeshifter!" he exclaimed.

"Nothing quite so grandiose," the new Optimus replied in the same voice as before. "I can only transform between two fixed modes. It's not the same as what the constable's capable of."

"I can imitate this form also," Odo expounded, "at least externally, but a tricorder scan would reveal the same discrepancies. He morphed back into his own more familiar Changeling shape and gazed into the now mechanoid Cybertron's paired opticals for a long measured interval. "I don't believe any of my people could replicate Commander Optimus completely," he added at last.

"But why? Why not? We've seen Founders imitate machine elements before."

"It's our amorphous alloys," Optimus said. "The very stuff which makes us what we are. Your sensory devices can't analyze them, perhaps because of their inherent instability. Organic-based shapeshifters such as Odo apparently can't analyze them either."

"But this—this is astounding." Sisko glanced from one person to the other, faster and faster, his excitement growing. "It means we've found a way to beat them. We have a chance now."

"I'm glad to see that you've grasped the implications so quickly," Nechayev remarked. Unspoken was her own small triumph: And now you know more of why we chose whom we chose…don't ever question your orders, Sisko…we know what we're doing. A slight smile, smug and satisfied, arched her prim lips as she watched the former commander of DS9 revel in his discovery. She knew what was coming next for him and could afford to be generous.

Captain Sisko stashed the last of his toiletries, tucked in the vial of precious Bajoran spices he meant to give to his father to further his endless culinary experiments, and snapped the small personal bag shut. He carried it into the front room of his quarters and placed it alongside his other gear, then stood staring down at the luggage for a long moment. Every time he returned to Earth, it seemed to be under duress. All had worked itself out on the other occasions. He only hoped for more of the same. Either way, he was coming back, and that knowledge alone cheered him like nothing else. Well, onward then. His transport awaited.

A sizable farewell party was also waiting for him by the docking hatch and Sisko felt a tight swell of gratitude and relief when he saw Optimus in amongst the group. He was the first to step forward as Sisko came up to them and warmly wished the human good fortune.

"And don't worry about DS9. I'll see to it that she's looked after," he added. One of his powerful hands lifted up and he tapped the side of his head. "I've got all your station logs, right here."

"Um. Good," Ben replied, a little bemused. The facts of Optimus's mechanoid nature still threw him sometimes. He wasn't sure how to respond further, but the Cybertron continued on before the moment turned awkward.

"Well, I'm sure you'd like a few moments alone with your friends. Until next month then," he said, and promptly saw himself off. Doctor Bashir gazed after the retreating form admiringly.

"I don't care if he is a machine, that is one astute man."

"Lucky for us," Jadzia Dax said. "Benjamin…" And then they all crowded around: Dax, Kira, Bashir, O'Brien, even Worf and Odo. And his sweet Jake, of course, who submitted to a hug and a kiss with squirming, willing embarrassment. All his friends and colleagues, wanting to show that they believed in him and supported him, no matter what. Sisko found himself fighting the sting of tears as he accepted their kindness and strength.

He charged onto the transport ship feeling ready to take on the galaxy.

TBC