CHAPTER ONE
--The Lost Light--
There were many words Megatron could use to describe the Lost Light. Progressive was not one of them.
In the one month he had been here, the ship had not gotten any closer to its goal than it had been when he had joined, and even before that point. Moldavite Six had been a waste of time, Molryus Minor another pointless detour, and Paradron... well, the less said about that, the better.
It just felt like Rodimus was wasting time. He claimed to be heading back for Caminus, but with all the stops they had made, it simply felt like their captain was stalling. And for what? Was he afraid of actually finding Cyberutopia? Did he not want this quest to end?
Many times had Megatron asked himself this question, and still he had no answer. It was beginning to tire him. Infuriate, even.
Megatron had not been on the bridge in five days. He felt that, the longer he stayed there, the closer he would come to strangling Rodimus. Then his quest for redemption would have been for nothing.
Instead, he would wait. He had asked Ultra Magnus to radio him when they had reached someplace worthwhile. As the Autobot seemed to share in his distaste for their lack of progress, Magnus understood what he meant.
Until then, he would sit patiently in his hab suite. Surely they would come across something interesting eventually.
But probably not.
* * *
"You know, it's not everyday you wake up and find out your best friend is an evil intergalactic overlord."
Dion took another swig of his drink before slamming it back down on the counter.
"It's also not every day that you find yourselves being thrown all across the timeline. I mean, how old even am I? I pretty much just missed two thousand years of history and now I'm starting to live a third of it. Is this even real life?"
Swerve stared at Dion as the latter downed the rest of his drink. "Uh... is this just now starting to get to you?" the bartender asked. "Because you seemed pretty chill about it for the past few days...."
"Ah, it's probably just the engex talking," Dion grumbled. "Or maybe all the time travel's made me slow to the realization. One of the two. Or both."
He moved to take another chug only to remember his can was empty. He was about to ask Swerve for another when his messenger pinged. It read: My office. Twenty minutes. Don't be late. Rung.
Groaning, Dion rose from his seat and hobbled to his feet. "Keep my tab open. I'll be back."
"Uh, yeah, sure," Swerve said, watching as Dion stumbled out of the bar. He didn't have the spark to tell the time-traveler that he didn't even have a tab open....
* * *
"Why did you call the D.J.D.?"
Stormshot sighed as she fiddled with a piece on the model Rung had given her. She knew the question was going to come up in their sessions at some point; she just didn't expect Rung to be so direct about it.
"Tell me, Rung," she said quietly. "Have you ever met an ex-Deception?"
"Why, of course," Rung said. "Our third-in-command Drift is an ex-Decepticon himself."
"Yeah, but do you, like, know him? Like, has he ever visited you and opened up to you?"
Rung adjusted his spectacles. "Even if he has, I'm not at liberty to divulge such information."
"Well, if he has, you would know that living as an ex-Con is the most miserable thing you could ever experience," Stormshot said. "For all my life -- all 211 years of it -- I've lived in constant fear of the D.J.D. eventually reaching my name on the List."
"Then why did you call them? If you knew they were going to kill you...."
"I didn't want to die, but I knew if they found me, they would kill everyone else on the ship. That's why I waited until we had landed on Paradron -- so I could get them as far away from the Lost Light as possible."
Rung was silent for a moment as he watched Stormshot continue to fiddle with the model, not really getting anywhere with it. Finally, he said, "Did Megatron have anything to do with your decision?"
Stormshot froze, her wing stiffening. Her voice came as an almost deadly whisper. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, everyone's been a lot more... tense since he came aboard, along with a number of Decepticons. I was just wondering... do you fear him more than the D.J.D.?"
Stormshot abruptly rose to her feet, letting the model clatter to the table. "I think that's enough. It's been well over an hour."
Rung sighed as he retrieved the model from the table. "Very well. Dion should be here soon."
Just then, there was a thud at the door. Rung and Stormshot both rushed over and opened it, allowing an orange and blue bot to stumble in.
"Sorry," he muttered, his words slightly slurred. "Motors actin' up. Should get 'em tuned. Or have I already done that? I don't know. Time travel sucks."
With that, Dion collapsed onto the floor. Rung exhaled loudly.
"Story of my life."
* * *
Nightbeat loved mysteries. That much a given. What he didn't love were things that were complete and utter scrap.
He could buy missing moons and stray ships, but when it came to things like Titans or magical artifacts? He just couldn't wrap his head around such things -- even when he saw them with his own optics. It just wasn't something he could compute.
The Thirteen were a subject that straddled the line for him. While he certainly believed the myths surrounding them were bogus, he couldn't help but ponder whether there was some truth to their tale. After all, the title of Prime had to come from somewhere.
Recent events had simply proven to strengthen his inkling. After they had left Paradron, Nightbeat had learned from Stormshot that Cannonspring had been on Carcer with her and had merged with an Autobot named Chaindrive. Based on how Stormshot had described the merging, as well as Chaindrive's appearance, Nightbeat couldn't help but be reminded of Nexus Prime, the Wizard of Forms and master of combination according to legends.
His first instinct had been to go to Emirate Xaaron, just as he had a hundred years ago when the Fallen threatened Cybertron. But then he thought better of it: Xaaron was a staunch believer of Primus and thus would be biased towards the mythical portrayal of the Thirteen. He needed someone more "real." Someone who was just as obsessed with facts as he was.
He needed Rewind.
The small archivist watched as Nightbeat circled around a holoprojector displaying graphs the detective had made (and only he understood). Coming to a halt, he looked down at Rewind.
"Tell me: Who was the first Prime, besides the Thirteen?"
"The first Prime?" Rewind thought for a moment. "Well, the first ever recorded is Alpha Prime...."
"And how far back do those records date?"
"That's been disputed for years, especially since the switch to the New Calendar. Some say he lived as far back as Cycle 1984, some think even further than that, but nothing concrete."
"And the Thirteen?" Nightbeat asked. "How does Alpha Prime fit into their tale?"
"That also varies," Rewind said. "Popular belief maintains that he was a disciple of the Thirteen that they left in charge when they vanished. Others still believe that he was one of the Thirteen themselves, who stayed behind to watch over Cybertron's budding population."
"But nothing concrete?"
"Right." Rewind tilted his head as the detective returned his attention to the graph. "Why the sudden interest in the Thirteen, Nightbeat? I didn't think you cared about that kind of stuff."
"Of course I care! I care about all things unexplained, no matter how stupid they are!" Nightbeat rubbed his chin. "But the Thirteen and their story have become a recent interest of mine, especially after all that Carcer business."
Suddenly, like a lightbulb going off, a smile stretched across his face.
"Censere!" he exclaimed.
"Um, bless you?" Rewind said, confused.
"No, Censere! Remember the Necrobot?"
"Oh, yeah. Of course. What about him?"
"When he introduced himself, he said he hailed from the High-Ceilinged Manifold. I wasn't familiar with the place but I later learned from Glyph it was a place on Cybertron long before Nova Prime's era."
"Meaning...?"
"Meaning he's the oldest known Cybertronian alive and thus the only one who would know anything about Alpha Prime and the Thirteen." Nightbeat grinned. "I hope Rodimus still has that bullet, because I think we need to pay the Necrobot another visit."
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