Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Ten and Epilogue

With this chapter, Endgame will be on indefinite hiatus, while I take a break on post-ROTJ stories. I will be starting a new series called Chronicles that focuses on different eras of the Star Wars universe. In the meantime... I hope you like Transformers.
And in case I don't finish Endgame (or if I start anew), then consider Invasion to be the definitive end, with Endgame being "semi-canon" to the universe (though stuff like Kadar's backstory would remain).

CHAPTER TEN

--Coruscant--

    "I never realized how hard Cal Omas had it," Via Eerin murmured as she sat at her office desk. An aide hurried over and gave her a glass of water.

    "No one said politics was easy," said Nithal Q'Arts, sitting across from Via. The Caamasi was nursing his own drink, not making eye contact with anyone.

    The other senator in the room, Kersla of Ryloth, was too busy flipping through channels on a nearby viewscreen. Via was about to voice her disapproval of the Twi'lek's apathy in the conversation when a figure abruptly appeared on the screen.

    A humanoid male dressed in all black, his face was fully concealed by a black mask with silver ridges running across it. A hood was raised over his head. When he spoke, his voice came out as a metallic rasp.

    "People of the galaxy, lend me your ears...."

--The Renegade, docked on Phaeda--

    Kyla was not one for listening to the news-- she couldn't care less about other people's problems if they didn't affect her or her crew. But the choice was taken out of her hands when her radio developed a mind of its own.

    "The wars you have all suffered through have left you fearful for your life and those of everyone you love. With each traumatic event, you wonder if suffering has no limit."

--Fhost--

    For once, the Black Hole Cantina was quiet: no one was shouting or fighting, and Khedryn Faal was not gambling his life savings away. Even the most selfish of people were disregarding their interests and staring at the viewscreen by the bar.

    "That is no way to live; to live each and every day dreading that you'll be shot down the moment you get out of bed. Paranoia is one of the first steps towards madness."

--The Wheel--

    Master-Com wasn't so much administrator of the Wheel as he was part of it. As such, he could view every single electronic device built into the station. And all of them now had the same organic being on their screen.

    "And what does the Alliance do to assuage these feelings of fear and distrust? They gamble away their territory to their former enemies. Yet they claim to be your protectors."

--Mandalore--

    Kadar wandered through the night, dragged by the regret of what he had just done. Had he not been wallowing in guilt, he would have heard the words being spoken and replayed by an old man's radio.

    "That is what you need: someone to protect your from those who would do ill will. A sentinel to see to your safety. A watchman to ensure your protection."

--Ossus--

    Still recovering under Master Cilghal's care, Relin Druur had only a portable viewing device to keep him up-to-date on recent and current events. The news he was hearing right now was not pleasing in the slightest.

    "And before you even think it, the Jedi would rather practice their ways in the privacy of their temple than concern themselves with the lives of others. No, the protector you seek is I and those who are with me. We are your protectors."

--Coruscant--

    The Chief of State did not know what to make of this speech. While the man's intentions were seemingly of good nature, the way he said it carried an undertone, as if hiding a deeper, darker meaning.

    "My name is Darth Taral. This is my offer to the Galactic Alliance: my followers and I will protect your citizens, on one condition. That you will vote Chief of State Via Eerin out of office and replace her with someone with a stronger backbone. Someone who won't bend to the Imperials' will. You have thirteen days."

    With those foreboding words, the viewscreen went black and Via suddenly found it hard for her to speak.

*  *  *

    "Okay, where's Miss Creepy?"

    Having been lost in his thoughts, Jaden didn't notice that Arek had been speaking until he was running towards the ship's pilot seat, which Seer had mysteriously vacated from. As soon as Arek had entered the seat, the ship automatically came out of hyperspace and the planet of Ossus-- their original destination-- came into view.

    "Well, that's convenient," Arila commented. "Anyone else think this was all just a bad spice dream."

    "Far from it," Jaden muttered. "If anything, I think it was a real as anything else."

*  *  *

    "Wonderful speech, master!" Sao exclaimed as Varon Krul-- now Darth Taral-- stepped away from the holo-camera. "What we do now, master?"

    The Sith Lord said nothing as he left his lair's main chambers and headed for his quarters. When he entered them, his Veknoid minion tried to follow, but he shut the door in his face. Alone in the dark, Darth Taral called to someone in the shadows.

    "It is done."

    "Is it?" came the reply.

    "Yes. I have made my offer to the Alliance and soon, all of the major leaders will have been replaced."

    "Not all, but it's a start. And Abeloth?"

    "She has been awakened and freed. I will be speaking with her shortly."

    "Excellent. The board is set then. Now it is time to move the pieces."

    "But what of the Jedi and the Sith Masters?" Darth Taral asked. "They might stand in the way."

    "You have overcome obstacles before, haven't you?"

    Darth Taral bowed his head. "Yes, master."

    "Then they should not be any difficulty for you." A hand gestured in the darkness. "Leave me."

    Darth Taral nodded and turned on his heel, leaving the room and its sole occupant behind.

EPILOGUE

    The Zabrak groaned as he pathetically crawled on the floor. A burst of lightning from his master's palms stilled him once again.

    "Don't lie to me, Vossron," Darth Sedriss hissed. "Tell me what you and the others have been up to."

    "It... wasn't my idea," the Zabrak said in between pained pants.

    Sedriss knelt down next to him, running a hand across his face. "Then whose was it?"

    "Varon," Vossron gasped. "Lord Paxis' apprentice. He's... he's been developing this plan to topple the major governments and... replace it with... an empire."

    "And you agreed to go with his plan?"

    Vossron winced at the ice in his master's voice. "It... it sounded like a good idea at the time--"

    Another burst of lightning silenced him.

    "I am very disappointed in you," Sedriss said quietly. "You were always the brightest of the students, hence why I took you as my apprentice. You would never have followed such a foolhardy plan."

    "Spare me, master! I... I can tell you where he is right now!"

    "Tell me then," Sedriss cooed.

    "Ziost. He's on Ziost. He has a lair and everything."

    "Does he now?" The Sith Lady rose to her full height. "In that case, thank you, Vossron, for being of some use in the end."

    The Zabrak's eyes widened in fear as the meaning of her words caught on. "No, master, plea--!"

    A scarlet blade silenced him forever. Sheathing her weapon, Darth Sedriss turned on her heel and left the grounds of the abandoned Sith academy on Iridonia. As she did, she removed her mask, revealing the visage of Lysira Naris.

    Things had become worst than expected. She could only hope that they could be stopped before it was too late.

END OF PHASE ONE

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Towards Peace

TOWARDS PEACE

--New Kaon, 1,000 Years Ago--

    Fight and die.

    He winced from the pain, still reeling from his fight with Clench. He was aware that the Decepticons had ruthless fighters, but he had never known how ruthless they could be.

    Fight and die.

    Energon still leaked from his wound. He had been told a medic would be seeing him shortly, but having already met one of them, he dreaded the experience.

    Fight and die.

    "It always hurts the most when you're finished."

    Optronix craned his head to the other occupant of his cell. Due to the scarce light in the room, he could not make out much detail of the mech, other than that he was old and falling apart. His red optics were dim but still visible.

    "And you would be an expert on that?" Optronix replied bitterly.

    The mech chortled though it came out as more of a laugh. "I've fought in those arenas, kid. I know what they're like."

    Optronix simply grunted at that.

    A long bout of silence followed. His cellmate then said, "You're the one everyone's been talking about, aren't you? Trannis' apprentice."

    "It's not a title I relish," Optronix muttered.

    The old mech grunted. "Ah, but any Decepticon worth their metal would kill for it. And they would succeed."

    "Let them have it, then. I'd rather die than be one of you."

    "Is that what you want then? To go down as Optronix, the heir apparent Prime, who died as a coward?"

    Optronix gritted his teeth. "I'm not a coward."

    "Then prove it," his cellmate said darkly. "Go back out there and prove me wrong."

    Optronix opened his mouth to retort until he heard the sound of metal footsteps; Flatline was approaching. Having no time for an argument, he instead said, "Who are you?"

    "Terminus," was the reply. "I am your end point."

*  *  *

    Clench stood before him once again, weapons brandished and exhaust puffing from his grill-shaped mouth. Optronix was considerably less well-armed than him, having only a battle mace and a crudely-made shield for defense. But his new-found determination from his talk with Terminus was sure to accommodate that.

    "Ready to die, Autobot?" Clench baited him.

    Optronix did not respond. Even at the Autobot Academy, he had been told to avoid making taunts and witty quips. It rarely did anyone good.

    "No last words, eh? Fine by me." Clench charged with a battle cry as he fired the gun built into his right arm. Optronix raised his shield to deflect the shots, though the shield was immediately reduced to scraps. Left with only his mace, Optronix lunged towards his opponent.

    No sooner had he swung his mace was he sent sprawling across the arena, much to the excitement of the crowd. Their jeers did nothing to damage his resolve, however. Instead, he picked himself up, gripping his weapon tighter, and charged again.

*  *  *

    "Fight and die. Fight and die."

    "Found your mantra, have you?" Terminus said dryly.

    Optronix ignored him as he completed his two-hundredth pushup. He then began converting to and from his alternate mode, still repeating the phrase.

    "You're adapting rather well to the Decepticon lifestyle," Terminus went on. "At first I thought your parts would be decorating the arena in no time, but seeing as you have taken down Clench and Scorponok so far-- two of Trannis' strongest warriors-- I seem to have been proven wrong."

    Optronix said nothing until he had finished his transform-ups. Then, returning to his feet, he looked at his frail cellmate. "Who is the most strongest warrior in the arena?"

    "That title is currently held by Overlord," Terminus said, bitterness lacing his voice. "A title he took from me. Dozens have fallen to him and nearly everyone fears him-- even Trannis is wary of him."

    Optronix smirked. "All the more reason for me to defeat him."

*  *  *

    "You have to admit, he is skilled."

    Trannis did not respond, watching impassively as Optronix thrashed Overlord about in the arena below. Mildly taken aback by the silence, Zardak turned to his fellow warlord with a raised optic ridge.

    "Are you not pleased? He is your protege, after all." 

    "That may be so, Zardak," Trannis replied. "But he has become too skilled for my liking. If he remains loyal to me, then I will not worry too much. But if he develops the slightest sign of rebellion, he will have to be removed."

    "Would you like me to have my warriors keep watch over him?"

    "Yes, do that. At the same time, I will have Soundwave monitor him as well." Trannis folded his hands behind his back. "He has betrayed his loyalties once. I will not be surprised if he does so again."

*  *  *

    "They are watching you."

    Battered and bruised yet triumphant from his fight with Overlord, Optronix stopped upon entering his cell to stare at Terminus. "What?"

    "Trannis has sent out assassins and spies to watch you, waiting for you to take a wrong step."

    "How do you know?"

    "I've seen them around here, planting cameras and listening devices. They didn't pay me any heed given my... condition."

    "But now that you've told me, won't they come after you now?"

    Terminus let out a harsh laugh, coughing up energon. "Ah, but I've only done what they wanted. Trannis wants you to know. He wants you looking over your shoulder. He wants to see you afraid."

    Optronix thought this over for a moment before smiling cunningly. "Then I shall give him what he wants."

*  *  *

    Trannis kept his eyes glued to the multiple monitors before him, each one connected to the optical sensors of Soundwave, his minions, and Zardak's assassins. Optronix appeared in nearly each and every one of them as the spied followed him through the Decepticon fortress as he headed back for his cell, having just completed another match.

    At first, Optronix did not seem to notice any of the mechs following him. Suddenly, the former Autobot stopped in his tracks to look over his shoulder, making direct eye contact with the assassin known as Darklight.

    "Do you fear death?" Optronix asked quietly.

    Darklight said nothing as he slowly approached his target, unsheathing a sharp blade.

    "Allow me to rephrase the question, then." Suddenly, Optronix was upon the assassin, pinning him down with his knee while wrapping a hand around Darklight's neck. "Do you fear me?"

    Before Darklight could muster any sort of reaction, the viewscreen connected to him dissolved into static. Trannis then watched, impassive as ever, as the other spies fell to Optronix's wrath. Maul, Umbra, Raze-- all of Zardak's warriors went offline one by one. Soon, only Soundwave and his minions remained, and it wasn't long before the spy was at Optronix's mercy as well.

    Looking straight into Soundwave's visor, Optronix growled, "I know you can hear me, Trannis. I want you to know something; if I wanted to take the Decepticon throne from you, we would not be playing this little game. Oh, there may be a time when I will seek to usurp you, but right now, I have no such desire to be a true Decepticon, nor a true Autobot."

    Trannis sneered. "What are you then?" he asked, conveying his query through Soundwave.

    Optronix flashed a savage grin. "I am the nightmare you created. I am the beast under your leash. I am he who has fallen."

    "Do you expect me to be scared, Optronix?"

    "No, Trannis. I just want you to watch your back."

    And with that, the last monitor went out.

*  *  *

    "Impressive display," Terminus said once Optronix had recounted everything to him. "A little much on the acting, but impressive nonetheless."

    Optronix smirked. "I'll admit that boasting is not my strongest suit, but that's simply another thing to learn about being a Decepticon."

    Terminus nodded silently before saying, "You know, you remind of a legend. The tale of the Fallen."

    "I have heard of it," Optronix murmured.

    "It's not an exact match, I know, but you have without question fallen from grace. You are no longer the heroic warrior you once were."

    "True. I have considered the similarities of our stories... which is part of the reason why I have decided to take on a new name."

    "Is that so?" Terminus said. "And what shall you be known from now on?"

    "Megatron." The fallen Autobot turned to his mentor with a menacing glare, gripping his mace. "And I am your end point."

END OF INTERLUDE II: ORIGINS

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

    Devon Zanab gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the vicious flytrap that had ensnared him. Nearby, Reeda and Sirul were trying to shoot at the tendrils wrapped around him, but it either didn't fell pain or it was that tough.

    With his arms and legs bound, all he could do was grimace as the flytrap leaned forward and opened its wide maw. Suddenly, a blue lightsaber pierced through its mouth and it dropped down dead, allowing Zanab to free himself. He then nodded his thanks to his savior, Taana.

    "Some screwed up planet this is," the commander then muttered, surveying the bizarre jungle surrounding them. "Let's find the others before more plants try to eat us."

    Suddenly, a figure shot from the bushes. The troopers raised their blasters at it only to see that it was Jaden Korr.

    "Well, that's one down," Sirul said.

    Taana walked over to the other Jedi as he bent over, panting for breath. "Jaden? Are you all right?"

    "Not exactly," he said in between breaths. "I... I think I just let a monster out of its cage."

    The Togruta's forehead creased. "What do you mean?"

    "He means that I am free."

    The voice was all around them. The troopers aimed their blasters widely as it cackled.

    "Thanks to you, Jaden, I have been awaken from my eternal slumber," it said with a girlish giggle. "All I need now is for my other children to destroy the chains that bind me to this accursed planet."

    "Then what?" Jaden called to it. "What do you have planned for this galaxy, like so many before you?"

    A horrible, grating laugh echoed all around them. "What need have I for the galaxy? My goals are more personal than conquering the galaxy; they needn't concern you."

    "You reek of the dark side," Taana said darkly. "We can't let you roam free."

    "It is too late," the voice said. "The fires have already started."

*  *  *

    Centerpoint Station, located in the Corellian system, was one of the most ancient sites in the galaxy, a relic left behind by the fabled Celestials.

    Was.

    Now, in its place, was a massive fireball, a result of the explosives placed by those awaiting Abeloth's reawakening. One of those people watched the explosion from afar, basking in its light.

    With a grin, Varon Krul commanded Taral to carry him away from the scene.

*  *  *

    The sky was being torn apart.

    Normally Jaden would be freaked out by that sort of thing. But after what he saw in the cave, not much could faze him anymore. 

    As storms began to tear the jungle asunder, Zanab said, "Well, men, it's been a pleasure serving with you."

    "Oh, don't be like that!" the voice of Mother said. "I have no intention of letting you all die. After all, I could always use more children to take care of."

    "I'd rather die than be your child," Jaden called back to her.

    Mother's voice ran cold. "Suit yourself."

    However, before anything could happen, Jaden heard the roar of engines. He looked up to see Rancor Squad's ship, damaged but still operating, flying towards them with its ramp lowered. As it stooped down towards them, the two Jedi and three troopers clambered onto the ship, closing the ramp behind them. In moments, it was taking off towards the sky.

    "Nice one, Arek!" Zanab laughed. "Great timing. Remind me to get you promoted."

    "That wasn't me." Everyone turned to see Arek, Natia, and the other troopers sitting nearby. Arek then jerked his head towards the cockpit; sitting in the pilot's seat, manning the ship's controls, was Seer.

    The bald woman turned to them with a wide grin. When she spoke, it was with Mother's voice.

    "Buckle in, children. It's going to be a dangerous trip."

*  *  *

    "And so another relic of the Celestials is destroyed," Varon Krul said to himself as he watched Sinkhole Station be torn apart by the powers of Abeloth. "A sad, but necessary sacrifice."

    I fail to see the need of awakening this creature you call Abeloth, Taral said telepathically. If what you say of her is true-- that she is an unstoppable force of destruction-- won't she pose a threat to our plans?

    Varon smirked. "Our? Don't flatter yourself, Taral. You are but a mere tool in this plan, just like Abeloth."

    Even in the coldness of space, Varon felt the temperature in the Sith Meditation Sphere drop.

    I am subservient to no one. I agreed only to work with you, never for you. You would do well to remember that.

    "Don't worry," Varon said, just as icily. "I will... though it might be hard with you not around to remind me."

    The air in the sphere began to decompress, but Varon moved too fast for Taral. Igniting his scarlet blade, he plunged it into the ship's main computer. A terrible scream emitted from it before lapsing into silence.

    Satisfied with his handiwork, the Sith warrior put his weapon away and replaced it with a comlink.

    "Sao, prepare for my return. And be sure to get the stage ready."

*  *  *

    Abeloth's planet was well behind them now as the ship went through hyperspace. While Abeloth herself, in the body of Seer, piloted the vessel, Jaden and the others sat in silence, dreading what was to come now.

    Sitting across from him, Taana's eyes seemed to read Jaden. "Tell me what is troubling you," she said abruptly.

    Jaden looked up at her. "Where did that come from?"

    "You looked frightened when you rejoined us. Where had you been?"

    He sighed, knowing that he couldn't dodge the question. "I was in a cave with Darth Vorath."

    When the Togruta's eyes widened, he added, "Don't worry, it was an illusion, a phantom. Then... a voice told me to remove his helmet, which I did."

    "What did you see?" Taana whispered.

    Jaden shuddered at the memory of it. With a deep breath, he looked everyone in the eye before saying, "You're looking at him right now."

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Cross My Spark

CROSS MY SPARK
--Cycle 9314 (300 years into the war)--

    Shaky fingers gripped the edge of the coffin lid. He both dreaded and hoped for what he would find underneath it; he needed answers, even if they brought him grief and despair. Gingerly, he slid the coffin open.

    Laying within was the body of a teal and black mech, a Decepticon symbol emboldened on his shoulder.

    Rewind closed the lid, hanging his head in sorrow. He had not found what he was looking for; how long would it be before he did?

*  *  *

    "Next."

    The Decepticon sitting to Chromedome's right got to his feet. Giving one last glance at the three others he had been speaking with, the violet and silver mech stepped out of the waiting room and into what would soon be his resting place.

    "Can't help but feel sorry for that mech," said the Decepticon to Chromedome's left. "That story about how he lost his brother... that just tears at the spark."

    Chromedome nodded in agreement. He had never thought he would ever feel sympathy for a Decepticon, but seeing how anyone sitting here in this room was prepared to die, differences between factions hardly mattered anymore.

    "Raises the question, though," said a third Decepticon. "What's your guys' stories? Why are you here?"

    The second Decepticon sighed softly, bitter memories showing in his optics. "For me, it all started when I got kicked out of the Primal Vanguard. I signed up for Trannis' revolt after that, and I thought I had found my calling then. But then I foiled up a battle campaign and... well, let's just say Megatron's not happy. And I'd rather die peacefully then suffer whatever fate he has in mind for me. Name's Mortar, by the way."

    "I'm Static," the other Decepticon said. "Former Communications. I got forced to listen in to the Simanzi Massacres and similar events onward. It's gotten too much for me to--"

    "Chromedome."

    At the sound of his name being called, Chromedome lifted himself off of the bench he had been sitting on. Giving a simple nod of farewell to the two Decepticons, he headed into the next room. It was then that he heard an anguished cry.

*  *  *

    Rewind held his head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Failure yet again. It had been this way for several centuries now....

    Well after the war was underway, his life had taken a turn for the worse. The one mech he had held in higher regard than any other had vanished without a trace. Since then, he had spent his life searching for him, scouring battlefields and perusing war footage for anything that gave him his whereabouts, regardless of fate.

    "The worse the death, the more painful the memories."

    Rewind turned around to find a brown and red mech standing there, a sad look in his yellow visor. Tilting his head, Rewind said, "Who are you?"

    "Everyone calls me Chromedome. And I'm here to do something about it." The mech seemed to stare out into space for a moment before saying, "What's your story?"

    Rewind was hesitant to open his heart out to this complete stranger, even though they were wearing the same badge. But ever since he started his lifelong quest, he had never confided in anyone; not his brother Eject, nor his friend Blaster. He had to tell someone, and Chromedome seemed like a welcoming enough person.

    So he told him. He told him about his servitude and later bond to Dominus Ambus. He told him about their exploits-- searching for Luna 1 and a cure for Cybercrosis. He told him about life as a member of the disposable class, fighting for rights. He then told him about Dominus Ambus' disappearance and how he had searched for him, diving into illicit practices to do so.

    He poured all of his sorrows onto this stranger, who simply listened without a word. Rewind wasn't searching for sympathy by doing this; he simply needed someone to hear his story, to hear the grief he had kept bottled for so long.

    He needed someone like Dominus.

    When he was finished, Chromedome knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

    "I feel your pain," he said softly. "I've lost people close to me as well, and I've... done things that I regret. I came here to end all of the suffering, but now...."

    Rewind tilted his head. "Yes?"

    "...Now, I know that there are some people who have it worse than me-- a lot worse than me. And yet they get by. They brave whatever life throws at them. They thrive. And here I was running away from it, like a coward."

    "You're not a coward. We all have our breaking points...." Rewind looked forlorn at the coffin. "I might have just found mine."

    "You can't give up now," Chromedome insisted. "Dominus Ambus is still out there, one way or another, and I'm going to help you find him."

    Rewind looked up at him with a hopeful look. "You... you promise?"

    "Cross my spark."

--Cycle 9324 (10 years later)--

    Chromedome woke up screaming.

    "Don't pull the trigger!"

    "What trigger?"

    Chromedome turned to see Rewind standing at his recharge slab. Instantly, the memory of his dream-- or nightmare, rather-- faded away and he remembered that he was still on Kimia Station, resting in the habitation suite he shared with Rewind.

    Rubbing the back of his head, Chromedome murmured, "Nothing. It was... it was just a bad dream."

    Rewind folded his arms. "A dream about someone holding a gun to you?"

    "Actually, I wasn't even in the dream. I was...." Chromedome paused, unsure whether to continue. Then, remembering how Rewind had opened himself up to him ten years ago, he supposed it was time for him to do the same. "Have you ever heard of mnemosurgery?"

    "No. What is it?"

    After making sure the room was audio-protected, Chromedome told him. He told him about the practice of reading others memories, altering or erasing them if necessary. He told him about his work at the New Institute. He told him about the lives he had been forced to change.

    When he was finished, there was silence. Then, Rewind stepped closer to him and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Promise me something."

    Chromedome craned his head to look at him. "What?"

    "Promise me that you'll stop altering people's memories; that you'll stop... injecting. Not only is it hurtful to others, but it's hurtful to you. Please... do it for me."

    Chromedome stared at Rewind, seeing the pleading look in the archivist's gaze. He then gave him an assuring nod.

    "Cross my spark."

--Cycle 9701 (377 years later)--

    "Take a seat."

    "What is this about, Prowl?" Chromedome said as he sat across from his former partner. "I thought you were busy with helping Magnus set up the roster for Prime's Ark."

    "I was," Prowl said, pressing his finger tips together and he propped his elbows on his desk. "I still am. This is about the roster-- and you."

    Chromedome sighed. "I already told you. I'm not signing up for it, nor is Rewind."

    Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Why not? I would think this would be an ideal opportunity for you two to continue your quest."

    "I doubt Prime will be making stops for things like that," Chromedome said quietly. "Besides, I'm sure the 'Cons will be sending their most fearsome after the Ark. I... I don't want to put Rewind in that kind of danger."

    Prowl smirked. "It's too bad. We could use someone with your skills."

    "You and Prime?"

    "The Secret Service." At this, Prowl lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "We are a covert group of Autobots tasked with doing things others aren't willing to. We're like the Wreckers, but better."

    Chromedome's visor narrowed. "I know where you're going with this. The answer's already no."

    "I beg you to reconsider. We could really use someone like you. The things we do-- it's right up your alley."

    "No." Chromedome got up from his seat. "I'm sorry, Prowl, but no. I made a promise to some one and I won't break it, even if Optimus Prime asked me to."

    Prowl said nothing until Chromedome was at the doorway. "It's funny."

    Chromedome stopped, gripping the doorway's frame. "What is?"

    "You and Rewind."

    He tightened his grip, bending the metal frame. "Fine, I'll bite. What's so 'funny' about that?"

    "I was just wondering if he has any inkling of your full story." As he said this, Prowl lifted up a datapad from his desk. Chromedome caught this action in his peripheral vision and spun around to face him. 

    "You wouldn't dare."

    "If you care for him as much as I think you do, I believe it would be for the--"

    Prowl never finished his sentence, for Chromedome was instantly on top of him, injecting his needle fingers into his former partner's neck. At his command, every bit of incriminating knowledge of him vanished from Prowl's mind, as well as the threat he had made.

    "You asked for this," he muttered.

    When the deed was done, Chromedome quickly got back up and bolted for the door. Once again, Prowl's voice stopped him.

    "So, promise me you'll think about it."

    Chromedome only stopped to give him one last glance.

    "Yeah. Cross my spark."

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

    The Dark Jedi Temple on Dromund Kaas had long since been abandoned, with its previous residents either rejoining the Jedi Order or going their own way. Either way, it left it free for its new orders to move in.

    Twelve beings, all clad in dark cloaks and masks, convened at the center of the meeting chambers, forming a circle. For a long time, the endless rain outside was all that could be heard. Then, one of the twelve spoke.

    "What, exactly, prompts our meeting here?"

    Lysira Naris lifted her veiled gaze to the old man who had spoken. "Surely you have been following the news, Lord Kallus."

    He snorted. "Why should I be concerned with others' affairs that do not affect me?"

    "Because they just might, Kallus," a male Snivvian said. "The Imperial Remnant has forced more territory from the Galactic Alliance."

    "And?" a male Cerean asked, bushy eyebrows arched. "How does this influence us?"

    "I sense that there is something else at work here, Lord Versutus," Lysira murmured. "Has anyone heard from their apprentices lately?"

    No one answered.

    Breaking the silence, Lady Saarai said, "You don't suppose they're... up to something, do you?"

    "Some of them are radical in their thinking," said a white-haired man. "My own apprentice is a shining example of that."

    A male clad in all-concealing armor folded his arms. "In that case, Lord Paxis, you should track him down and find out what he has been up to."

    "I concur, Lord Tyran," said Su Koda, fully-clad as well. "I suggest we all do the same."

    "In that case," Lysira said, "consider this meeting adjourned."

*  *  *

    Very few bore witness to Boba Fett's return to Mandalore. Arriving with Kadar, Mirta, and his frozen wife at night, he went straight to the home of Goran Beviin and Medrit Vasur, the latter whom knew a doctor.

    After assessing the carbonite slab's condition and confirming that it was undamaged, the doctor began to thaw out its inhabitant. Once the carbonite had melted away, a black-haired woman rose out of the slab, looking around with wide eyes, unable to see with them due to the effects of the carbonite.

    For the first time in fifty years, Boba Fett smiled. "Welcome back, Sintas."

    She turned to look in his direction. "Do I know you?"

    Fett grimaced. He should have figured that being in carbonite for nearly forty years would do more than simply render Sintas blind. Before he could say anything, Mirta stepped forward with her Heart of Fire pendant.

    "Remember this, grandma?"

    Sintas Vel took the jewel and felt it around in her hands, no doubt applying her psychometric abilities to it. She then looked back up at her only remaining family.

    "Bo?" she whispered.

    Fett smiled again as he took her other hand in his. "In the flesh. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry I left you and Ailyn. I've never regretted anything more than that. Will you forgive me?"

    Sintas stared at him before squeezing his hand, the hint of a smile on her face. "Always."

    For a time, the three of them stood in silence while Kadar, Goran, and Medrit looked on. Then, after having a whispered conversation with his wife and granddaughter, Fett turned to Kadar.

    "Let's go for a walk outside."

    Something in his tone unsettled Kadar slightly, but he nonetheless complied and the two men stepped out into the night. Once they were well away from the Beviin residence, Fett turned to Kadar and held up a syringe.

    "I want you to inject this into my arm."

    "Why?" Kadar asked, taken aback by the request. "What will it do?"

    "It will kill me; quickly and painlessly."

    "But why would you want that?"

    "I've heard the stories from... my brothers. The degradation that eventually kills us clones is a slow and painful process. I don't want to suffer through that."

    "But...." Kadar gestured back to the Beviin home. "You still have a family."

    "A family I abandoned and left to fend for themselves," Fett retorted. "Sintas and Mirta may have forgiven me, but I can never forgive myself. Honestly, it's taken me until now to realize I don't need to cheat death."

    Kadar sighed. "Why ask me then? Why not use it on yourself?"

    "Because suicide is the coward's way of doing it. You, however, have a reputation for killing renowned people. How about another one to add to the pile?"

    "That reputation is what I want to turn away from."

    "Then consider me your swan song." Fett put the syringe into his hands. "Do it. Do it or I'll make you regret it."

    With a sigh of resignation, Kadar took Fett's arm and plunged the needle into it. Fett winced slightly before a wave of calm crossed his face.

    "Sure beats... falling into a sarlacc...."

    As the infamous bounty hunters closed his eyes to welcome an eternal sleep, Kadar could not help but envy him....

*  *  *

    It is done.

    Tral was admittedly surprised when he received the message on his datapad, sent to him by his brother. Those three simple words convened to him the news that would shake the galaxy.

    Boba Fett was dead.

    Tral smiled. Two down, one to go.

    He forwarded the message to his boss before turning to his Togorian comrade, who sat with him at the Oyu'baat tapcaf.

    "Savor your drink, my friend. Now the real work begins."

    Morgot snorted. "What do you call what we've been doing?"

    "Preparation. Like our accomplice said to us, this is only Phase One. Phase Two is where the fun begins."

    "So until then, we wait?"

    "Yes."

    "For what?"

    Tral smiled as he leaned back comfortable in his seat. "For the fires to start."

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - A Pirate's Life

Chronology: Cycle 9704 (AD 1904) (three years after Volume XI)
EDITED 6/24/2018 Changed Ferak's story

A PIRATE'S LIFE

--The Tidal Wave--

    In the three years that had followed Thundertron's demise at Scorponok's hand, Axer found himself enjoying the Star Seekers' company more than he ever had in the past. He owed much of that to Cannonball becoming captain and allowing more Cybertronians on board, primarily ex-Decepticons, giving Axer someone to talk to.

    Regardless, there was one Star Seeker whom he was the most friendly with, though only because they were friendly with pretty much everyone. Known only by the name of Thunderlane (despite his bestial alt mode), the old mech ran the oil pit bar on board the Tidal Wave. Having been with the Star Seekers since the beginning, he was an endless repository for stories. And Axer happened to be a captive audience for them.

    As Axer seated himself at the counter, Thunderlane flashed him a grin. "What'll it be, lad? The usual?"

    "Actually, I'm in the mood for some Nightmare Fuel." Axer dropped a few credits on the counter. "And maybe a tale of yours, if you're fine with that."

    Thunderlane laughed as he prepared Axer's beverage. "You're the only one who listens so of course I'm fine with it. What do ya want to know?"

    "How did Thundertron come to lead the Star Seekers?"

    Thunderlane's face darkened as he handed the ex-Decepticon his drink. "Aye, now that is quite the tale. Let's see... it all started over nine hundred years ago, give or take, when someone else was commandin' the Tidal Wave."

    "Who?" 

    "Cannonball. Oh, but not the one you know, rather someone with his name. Thundertron had been his first mate, up until then...."

--Toruin, 985 years ago--

    "Arr! These Genericons don't know when to let up!" Cannonball the Fourth bellowed as he fired his arm cannon from the boarding ramp of the Tidal Wave. The massive ship was trapped in the sky of Toruin, having been caught by a tractor beam.

    At his side was Thundertron, deflecting fire with his sword. "Maybe if you didn't murder their king, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

    The captain sneered. "Let's see you do better, beastie. You probably would have done the same, being the savage beast that you are!"

    "Yes, I might have," Thundertron snarled. "But I would have planned it out, consider the consequences, weighed my options, and do a much more thorough job!"

    Cannonball snorted. "A pity, then, that you are not captain."

    "That can be easily remedied."

    Cannonball never had the chance to react to this statement before he was sent plummeting towards the ground. As he landed hard on his back, he saw his former first mate close the boarding ramp behind him. Moments later, the Tidal Wave's outer guns fired at the tractor beam generator, destroying it, before taking for the skies. Cannonball opened his mouth to let loose a string of curses, but fell silent when a crowd of angered Toruin natives surrounded him....

--Present--

    "He pushed him off?"

    Thunderlane nodded. "And from that point forward, Thundertron had total reign on the Tidal Wave. He had all of the Cybertronians on board-- and any who tried to join afterwards-- executed... with one exception."

    "The current Cannonball."

    "Right on, lad." Thunderlane moved to serve a white mech who had just sat down next to Axer. "Hard to believe though, isn't it? All it took was a simple push to end-- at the time, of course-- the legacy of captains which had lasted for thousands of years."

    "Thank Primus it didn't last," muttered the mech next to Axer. "Otherwise, Tornado and I would still be moseying around asteroid fields."

    Axer turned to face him. "I know you. You're Ferak, right? Inventor of the Nightmare Engine?"

    "My reputation precedes me," the ex-Decepticon grunted. "What's it to ya', pal?"

    "Well, what the slag are you doing in a joint like this? I thought you died at Pova with the rest of Squadron X."

    Ferak smirked. "I would've if I hadn't done the smart thing and ran. Me and Tornado tailed out as soon as the Wreckers showed up. Macabre never got the chance to shoot us down when Impactor started pummeling him. We wandered the stars for spark knows how long until we were picked up by you guys a year ago."

    Axer nodded. "So how are you liking it here so far?"

    Ferak shrugged. "Eh, I've been on worse ships. The Pale Fire was nothing special... though I've been meaning to ask: is it just me, or does this ship look like it could--"

    "All hands on deck!" the gruff voice of first mate Stronghorn sounded through the intercom. "Repeat: All hands on deck! We need reinforcements here on the bridge."

    Axer frowned. "Are we under attack?"

    Thunderlane shook his head. "Don't reckon so, lad. If it's on the bridge, then our captain's probably just havin' trouble with negotiations...."

*  *  *

    "You loathsome cretin!" 

    All optics watched as the black-armored femme hoisted Cannonball up in the air, an impressive feat given her more slender form than his bulky build. "You chiseled me!"

    "So I gave you 650 Shanix instead of 700." Cannonball managed a grin despite the femme's choke-hold on him. "I'm sure you'll get by; a beauty like you probably has it easy."

    Flamewar's optics blazed hatefully. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

    "My first guess would be the High Duchess of Vestum, but you're not quite ugly enough."

    Infuriated by this statement, Flamewar prepared to claw at the captain's face but was suddenly tackled from behind by two identical mechs in white and aqua green. They wrenched the crazed femme away from Cannonball and pinned her arms behind her back.

    Massaging his neck, Cannonball smirked at Flamewar. "You're a fierce one, lassie, I'll give you that. We could use someone with your ferocity; you'd fit right in."

    Flamewar sneered at him. "My loyalty lies only with the Decepticon Empire!"

    Cannonball shrugged nonchalantly. "Your loss. It was a pleasure doing business with you, milady. Cutback, Lockpick, take her away."

    As the two clones left the bridge with Flamewar, Axer stepped from the crowd that had gathered to watch the spat.

    "Er, is everything under control, cap'n?"

    "Everything is just dandy!" Cannonball said, taking a swig from a can of energon. "Now get back to work, ye scaly wags! Set sail for Athenia!"

    As they headed for their stations, Axer whispered to Ferak, "So, any second thoughts yet?"

    Ferak grinned wickedly. "You kidding? This pirate's life is just right for me!"

    Axer returned the smile. "On that, we can agree on."

FIN

---
Below is the original version of Ferak and Tornado's story.
---

    "Well, what the slag are you doing in a joint like this?"

    Ferak smirked. "Simple, kid; when the Nightmare Engine didn't do as well as planned at Clemency, I wasn't willing to suffer whatever punishment Megatron or Macabre had in mind for me, so I took flight."

    "And Tornado went with you?"

    "Nah, I met up with him about forty years ago. Apparently Macabre and his gang had a little run in with our arch-enemies, the Wreckers. Things weren't looking so hot for Squadron X, so Tornado made a run for it. I then ran into him on Hedonia and we fared the space lanes until we ran into you guys last year."

Star Wars Endgame: Episode VI, Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

    Jaden groaned as he came to his senses. His head weighed like a thousand tons of duracrete and his arms moved like a lifeless puppet's when he tried to move them. Eventually he managed to shake off his body's numbness and slowly sat up.

    The last thing he remembered was the ship heading straight into the Maw. Now he was a dark cave, moonlight pouring in from its mouth. No bird sang, no bugs chirped, no water rushed; he was in complete silence.

    And he could feel himself wading in the dark side.

    Whatever this planet was, it felt like a nexus of darkness. Fear, anger, hatred, and despair flooded through him; no positive thought or feeling could banish these emotions. If the dark side of the Force was living being, he was at its very heart.

    As he tried to resist the temptations of the darkness, a voice sounded in his head. It spoke no intelligible words, but it did beckon him to turn away from the cave's entrance and towards its abyss.

    Standing there, clad in ancient armor, red eyes blazing with malice, was Darth Vorath.

    Jaden's hand shot for his lightsaber, only to remember it was gone. He then lifted his gaze to meet the Sith Lord's and saw that the red eyes had gone out. Darth Vorath stood as erect and lifeless as a statue.

    Thousands of questions rushed through Jaden's head, though they were all pushed away by the voice's next command: Approach him.

    Jaden wanted to resist the order, but his body seemed to have other ideas. He slowly stepped towards the long-dead Dark Lord of the Sith. As he did, those red eyes came back to life.

    "Why do you fear the darkness?" The ancient, grating voice of the Sith caused Jaden to cringe. "The darkness soothes you with its cold air, while the light scorches your skin."

    "But you can't see in the darkness," Jaden said. "And it might be cold enough to give you frostbite."

    Vorath said nothing-- and Jaden didn't blame him; that had to be the worst comeback he had ever come up with. The two men stood in eternal silence, staring at each other. Then, the voice in Jaden's head spoke again.

    Remove his helmet.

    No thanks, Jaden thought back, but his hands were already moving to do just that. They grabbed either side of the Dark Lord's helmet and slowly lifted it.

    He saw the face of the monster. And screamed.

    Regaining control of his body, he threw the helmet aside and pushed Darth Vorath back into the abyss. He then turned on his heel to flee the cave but was stopped by a tendril coiling around his ankle.

    Don't leave your Mother.

    His blood ran cold for a moment before shaking off the tentacle and running out of the cave's gaping maw at incredible speed.

*  *  *

    "I keep telling you and you never listen."

    "Shut up, Yin," Arek muttered to the Kel Dor trudging behind him, Natia, and Arila. The four of them were traversing the strange jungle planet they had somehow arrived on.

    "Bad things always happen to us!" Zarn exclaimed. "We always get jinxed! We can't have a peaceful day to ourselves!"

    "Especially if you keep yelling," Arila retorted, rubbing her large ears.

    "Focus, guys," Arek snapped. "We have to find Commander Zanab and the others. They could've ended up anywhere on the planet."

    "Speaking of, this place is giving me the creeps," Natia said. "I just saw that plant move."

    "Ignore it and maybe it won't eat you."

    They continued their trek, their path illuminated by the moonlight. None of them noticed it at first, but the jungle landscape was slowly starting to fade away. By the time they reached a shore, any hint of the jungle had vanished.

    "Well, that's bizarre," Arila murmured.

    "Yeah, jungles usually don't disappear like that," Arek said.

    "That, too. But I was referring to the fact that you don't hear anything on this planet. No birds or bugs chirping, no wind howling, and ocean isn't even moving."

    Arek frowned. "I have a--"

    "Don't say it!" Zarn hissed. "You'll just make our predicament worse!"

    "Oh, I highly doubt that's possible, children."

    The four of them spun around to see a twisted figure standing rigidly before them. Humanoid and vaguely female, she had straw-like hair cascading down her back, kissing the ground. Her stubby arms extended no more than ten centimeters from her shoulders and ended in tentacle-like fingers. Her wicked grin crossed her mouth from ear-to-ear. Silver lights twinkled in empty, black eye sockets.

    She was more than just something from a horror flick Arek recalled from his childhood. She was a horror flick unto herself.

    While the troopers were too stricken with fear to speak, Natia said to the monstrosity, "Are you Mother?"

    The entity bared its teeth-- sharp and crooked. "To some, yes. But you are not my children. You may call me... Abeloth."

    A cold wind passed over the group as she spoke the name. A mist began to surround the twisted woman, giving her an ethereal aspect.

    "I'm gonna call you dead if you don't tell us what's going on," Arek growled, drawing his blaster.

    Abeloth let out a horrible laugh, sounding like nails scratching on steel. "Do you truly believe that you can harm me with that toy?"

    She lashed out with a tentacle and snatched the blaster away. At the same time, a dark fog began to surround them.

    "Naughty children deserve to be punished," Abeloth hissed. "Let Mother teach you your ways."

Transformers Regenerated: Origins - Unseen in Action

UNSEEN IN ACTION

--Tesarus, First Great War (Cycle 7784)--

    "Ripcord, where's Impactor?"

    From his spot in the trench which the Wreckers had dug out on Tesarus' battlefield, the silver and blue Autobot turned to his commander Crest and shrugged.

    "No idea, sir. I paired him up with Piston; haven't seen either of 'em since."

    Crest scowled as he dodged enemy fire. "That kid's gonna get us killed if no one keeps a leash on him."

    "Wait, sir! I see him!" Valve called from the watchtower. "He's... he's taken on Eradicon."

    Crest's optics dilated. "What?! Is Piston with him?"

    "Yeah, he's... one of the two corpses by Impactor."

    "One of--? Who's the other?"

    "Eradicon."

--Iacon (Cycle 7784)--

    "Crest, my suspension of disbelief can only go so far," Sentinel Prime said to the Wrecker commander as the former paced in his office. "Do you mean to tell me this rookie-- Impactor-- killed one of Trannis' top generals with his bare hands?"

    "That's what I said," Crest said sharply.

    Sentinel gave him a skeptical look. "Why should I believe you? Did you even witness him?"

    "Well, no--"

    "Then we have nothing more to discuss," the Prime said gruffly. "Regardless of the truth, Eradicon is dead."

    "But, Prime, he killed a mech--"

    "What else would you expect in war? I said we have nothing more to discuss, commander. Please leave."

    With a huff, Crest did as ordered.

--Uraya, First Great War (Cycle 7814)--

    "Medic! We need a medic!"

    Three vehicles drove up to the two Autobots' position. One of them, a white and blue rocket launcher, transformed and rushed over to them, carrying a first aid kit. The others morphed as well, grimacing at the gaping hole in Crest's chest.

    Cradling his leader's body in his arms, Impactor looked up at Fastfix imploringly. "Fix him."

    The medic frowned. "I'm sorry, Impactor, but... his spark's been extinguished. There's nothing I can do."

    The violet and gold Autobot lowered his head in sorrow. Hyperion, the late Crest's second-in-command, walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

    "Who did this?" he asked.

    "Clench," Impactor said through gritted metal teeth.

    "Where is he now?"

    "He got away. His friends weren't so lucky."

    Hyperion frowned as he looked up, finally noticing the corpses that littered the battlefield of Uraya. "You... caused all of this?"

    Impactor said nothing.

    Hyperion sighed. "No matter. Let's get back to Iacon."

    "The transports are all filled with refugees," Ripcord said. "We'll have to leave Crest here."

    The other Wreckers expected Impactor to protest, but instead the violet mech simply got up from Crest's body and walked with them to the last transport.

--Toxic Sludge Swamps, Second Great War (Cycle 8823)--

    "Take that, you cybernetic freak!" Springer shouted as he shot down a Slicer whilst in midair.

    Tomahawk rolled his optics at his comrade's bravado. It almost seemed like a requirement that all Heliobots be reckless thrill-seekers. It was a wonder that they had suffered little to no casualties yet.

    Suddenly, one of the abominable Slicers that lurked the Sludge Swamps was upon him, pinning him to the ground. He wrestled with the creature's grip, trying to get a missile launcher aimed at it, but his attempts were in vain.

    Just as Tomahawk was ready to accept his fat, a silver blade descended, cutting through the Slicer's neck. A couple blast shots finished it for good. The old Autobot pushed the creature's smoldering corpse off of him and looked up to see Springer's smug visage.

    As much as he wanted to slap the expression off of the rookie's faceplate, Tomahawk couldn't help but smile back. "Nice one, kid. I thought for sure I was a goner."

    "Don't mention it," Springer said. "Really you should be thanking Sensei Yoketron; if it weren't for him, I'd be slicing my own head off."

    Tomahawk chuckled. At least he can be humble at times.

    He suddenly stopped when he saw a figure approaching through the fog. Thinking it to be another Slicer, he scrambled to his feet and aimed his blasters.

    "Easy, old friend," a voice came. "It's me."

    Tomahawk lowered his weapons. "Impactor."

    A battle-worn purple and gold Autobot emerged from the fog, his hands planted on his hips. Looking at Springer, he said, "That was some nice work you did there, kid."

    Springer blinked, clearly awed by being complimented by a veteran such as Impactor. "Uh, thank you, sir."

    Impactor smirked. "Don't call me 'sir.' We're teammates, you and I."

    "We are?"

    "Yup. I saw your name on the reservist list. I am here to welcome you into the Wreckers."

--Pova, Second Great War (Cycle 9664)

    Consciousness gradually came to Springer as his systems began to reboot. Immediately feeling the aching pain in his midsection, he remembered what had just happened.

    The Wreckers had been cornered by their life-long rivals, Squadron X. He had been trapped under rubble. Impactor had been there, but instead of coming to his lieutenant's rescue, he had used his body as a shield and fired a gun straight through his abdomen. Then darkness consumed him.

    His optics finally coming back online, Springer saw Impactor and the others standing over him, most likely unaware that he was still functioning.

    "--Squadron X uncomfortable," Roadbuster was saying. "Got inhibitor claws and mode locks on them just to crank up the humiliation."

    Grunting in satisfaction, Impactor brought out a communication device; the holographic visage of Prowl appeared.

    "We've got 'em, Prowl. Macabre, Fang, Triton; they're all rounded up and ready to go to Garrus-9."

    "What is your location?"

    "Pova, in the Redan Quadrant."

    Prowl frowned. "Then we have a problem. Pova has been declared neutral territory by both factions. Release them immediately before the Decepticons use this to turn the Povians against us."

    Impactor scowled. "Over my dead body."

    Prowl glared at him. "This is non-negotiable. Let them go now; that's an order. Prowl, out."

    The connection ended and Impactor immediately held a hand out to Roadbuster. "Gun. Now."

    The orange Autobot complied. As Impactor stormed over to the facility where the Squadron X members were being held, Springer knew right away what the Wrecker leader was planning to do.

    "Impactor! Wait!" he cried as he got to his feet and staggered after him. But the Autobot he had long idolized and looked up to did not listen. He strode into the cell and locked the door behind him.

    Bang.

    Springer threw himself against the door.

    Bang.

    Whirl and Roadbuster looked away in shame.

    Bang.

    Sandstorm and Broadside turned a blind eye.

    Bang.

    Rack'n'Ruin was unreadable as ever.

    Bang.

    The door gave way and Springer fell through. He looked up and saw, in horror, that he was already too late.

    Standing there was Impactor. And at his feet were five murdered prisoners of war.

-

    The last scene is based on a flashback from IDW's Last Stand of the Wreckers comic series.