Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia VI, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

--Caminus--

    There was a reason Anode had never picked a side.

    Before the war, back when she still lived on Cybertron, she had been a member of the Anti-Vocationist League. Although her status as a blacksmith protected her from most of the Functionists' strict guidelines, she found herself appalled when her optics were opened to how the Functionists were influencing the High Council.

    That was how she met Lug. Another member of the A.V.L., Lug had been a member of the disposable class, one of the lowest rungs in Cybertronian society. It was Lug who had opened Anode's eyes to all of the council's atrocities, ranging from brainwashing to assassinations. Horrified by it all, Anode was quick to join the A.V.L.

    It was around this time that the Decepticon rhetoric began to spread. As time went on, Anode watched as more and more of her colleagues joined the Decepticons. It got to the point that she and Lug nearly did as well... until Megatron made his coup.

    Anode and Lug had watched, along with countless civilians, as Megatron executed the High Council one-by-one, before finishing off with Sentinel Prime himself. The massacre had shaken Anode to the core and erased any desire she may have had to join the Decepticons, or even the Autobots for that matter. As soon as the opportunity arose, before Zeta Prime placed the entire planet on lockdown, the pair had taken a shuttle and gotten as far away from Cybertron as possible.

    To this day, the sight of Sentinel Prime's head being blown to pieces had haunted her even in stasis. When Flame's bots brought the same fate upon Moscardo, it only made that memory worse.

    As Moscardo's now-headless frame toppled to the ground, Anode felt Lug pull on her arm.

    "What are we standing around for? Let's get out of here!"

    A blaster bolt narrowly missing her head snapped Anode back to reality and she quickly transformed to her plane mode. Lug hastily attached herself to her underside while Wipe-Out grabbed onto her tailfin. Flame and his troops continued to fire on the blacksmiths as they flew out of the frontier town.

*  *  *

    "What are you standing around for? After them!"

    "Sir!" One of the troops ran up to Flame, a communicator in hand. "It's the commander. He wants to talk with--"

    Flame scowled as he snatched the communicator, holding it up to his audio sensor. "I hope you realize that you just made me lose two blacksmiths," he growled.

    "Don't blame me for your insufficiency, Flame," his superior snapped. "All four of them should have been dead astro-cycles ago. You waste too much time with posture."

    Flame bit back a sharp retort and instead said, "What is it then? Why are you calling?"

    "I need you to clear the area. We're about to begin the Harvest."

    "Already? But shouldn't we--"

    "That is final, Flame," the commander said firmly, before disconnecting the call.

    Flame let out a heavy sigh before turning to his troops. "You heard him," he muttered. "Let's clear the area."

*  *  *

    The Grand Hall was just as Nightbeat remembered it, which greatly upset him.

    While it was no longer decked out to be used for a party, many of the little details he could recall were still present. The same number of windows, the same energy dystillery, the same decorative murals.... It was as if nothing had ever happened here. He would never had expected a people like the Camiens shrug off the explosion like it was no big deal. And how could they have procured the resources to rebuild their citadel so quickly; so perfectly?

    He was forced to save these questions for later as the Mistress of Flame stepped down from her pedestal to greet Star Saber and his party. Once introductions were out of the way, the Camien leader was quick to get down to business.

    "So," the gold-plated ruler said as she paced in front of her pedestal, her scarlet cloak sweeping the floor. "The Prime informed me you were here to take our energon supply."

    "Not your entire supply, Mistress," Star Saber hastily said. "We are here to recover a specialized ore -- Ore-4, as it's called -- that Shockwave seeded Caminus with eons ago." He hesitated before saying, "With all due respect, I thought that had already been made clear."

    "Oh, no. There is no misunderstanding." The Mistress fixed Star Saber with a cool gaze. "As I said, you are here for our energon supply."

    Star Saber looked confused, unsure how to respond. Firestar stepped forward and cleared her vocal processor.

    "What the Mistress is saying is that... the ore which you speak of is the source of all our energon. Without it, we would have died out a millennia ago."

    "For a time, we had been able to live off of the energon provided to us by the Titan Caminus," the Mistress explained. "Eventually, that energon was depleted to the point of non-existence. Our people nearly died out... until we found the ore.

    "Once our miners in Parvus Oppidum had unearthed and refined the ore, we were able to siphon it and replenish our energy supply, saving us from extinction. We were able to keep our society stable for long enough before Cybertron reestablished contact with and helped us develop further."

    "Okay," Apelinq muttered, scratching his head. "But... you don't need to rely on this energon, do you? Now that Cybertron's been restored, we can supply you with all the energon you need."

    Firestar shook her head. "It's not that simple. We've been using this synthetic energon for so long that we've evolved to depend on it. Any other kind of energon, even standard, is incompatible with us."

    Skids glanced at Nautica. "Is any of this true?"

    "Well, there is a reason I always ask Swerve to modify my engex," Nautica replied. "I'll admit, I didn't know about the ore stuff until now. I just assumed that was how we Camiens were born...."

    "So we have a dilemma," Star Saber said. "Let me contact Rodimus and see if--"

    "Oh, but wasn't there something else you wanting to ask?" Thunderclash interrupted, smiling slightly. "Something about me?"

    Nightbeat seized on the opportunity to speak up. "How are you alive? You were in the Citadel when the Secret Order destroyed it. You should be dead."

    "Not only that," Nautica added, "but Ratchet had already confirmed your passing before then, when he was stuck in Pharma's body. What gives?"

    Thunderclash's grin broadened. "I am remarkably skilled at playing dead. Many a Decepticon has fallen afoul of my dirty tactics."

    Nightbeat frowned. "What are you saying? You mean you've been faking your death this entire time?"

    "You know, I have long heard tales of the extraordinary detective skills of the Great Nightbeat," Thunderclash remarked. "I'm glad to see first-hand they were not exaggerated."

    "But why?" Nautica asked. "Why would you fake your own death?"

    Thunderclash smirked as he began pacing back and forth. Firestar was watching him just as intently as the others; clearly this was the first she was hearing of this as well. The Mistress of Flame, meanwhile, remained impassive.

    "When my crew and I visited Marasma -- when my condition began to 'worsen' -- I came into contact with a curious lifeform. This lifeform... changed me. Altered me in a way that no Cybertronian's been altered before."

    "Afterburner told me there had been a personality tick infestation when he inspected the ship," Firestar said. "Was that not what you contracted?"

    "Oh no," Thunderclash chuckled. "What I encountered was something far more interesting. 

    "Tell me: Does anyone here know what a Dire Wraith is?"

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part III

WITHERING GLARE, PART III

    Peering from the ceiling vent which he hid in, Thovak chuckled at the scene playing out below.

    Trask was down for the count, but not dead. Thovak had made sure to set Vosin's blaster for stun, ensuring she would be too confused to do anything when the Weequays attacked her. With everyone distracted, this left the Eye of Kaas ripe for the taking.

    After undoing the last bolt, Thovak removed the grill and began to calculate his next move. He could jump down onto the pedestal, hit the two females with poison darts, make a getaway for the exit... but surely that would be blocked. He would need a distraction.

    He looked down at his belt to see what kind of explosives he had... and saw one was already blinking red. His eyes widened. Since when did he--

*  *  *

    The explosion was Karvis' cue.

    With the rest of the room distracted, he made a dash for the relic. No one stopped him at first, as he was still in the disguise of a guard. Dodging the falling pieces of rubble, he reached for the Eye of Kaas, now exposed from its transparisteel dome. Without warning, he was tackled from behind and ended up on the floor, locked in the grip of one of the guards.

    "I knew you looked suspicious," the Weequay growled. "Jhok told me not to worry about you, but he was always the dumber sibling...."

    Snarling, Karvis managed to free his arm and elbowed the guard in the face. As the Weequay fell back, Karvis got back to his feet and started to go back for the relic... only to fall to his knees, gasping as he clawed at the toxin dart jutting from his neck. The room around began to spin and then... nothing.

*  *  *

    "Hey! That's mine! I won it fair and--"

    "Cool it, Mos," Valrisa snapped as she picked up the Eye of Kaas. "I'm just making sure it isn't damaged."

    "Well, I already see one thing that is."

    Valrisa froze at the sound of the old hag's voice. Eyes blazing, she gritted her teeth as she said, "Hello, mother."

    "Don't call me that," the Dowager spat back. "You lost that right long ago."

    Turning sharply on her heel, Valrisa came fact to face with the woman who had spawned her. Cold blue eyes met hers as a long silence passed between them. The Dowager's server droid MR-V watched on with its triangular green optics.

    Finally, Valrisa spoke. "You'r right. My mistake. I didn't think you would be so public about family drama and would try to keep up appearances."

    "Don't be ridiculous," the Dowager scoffed. "I've been very public of my disowning of you. The rest of the galaxy should be aware of your transgression and learn to stay away from you."

    "I somehow doubt the rest of the galaxy shares your view."

    The Dowager's nostrils flared in anger and she opened her narrow maw to speak but was stopped by the sudden appearance of Typha.

    "Come on, Val, we shouldn't keep Mos waiting." The Pantoran then paused to look at the Dowager. "Have we met?"

    The older woman glared at her with the fury of a thousand suns. "I see you've already found yourself a piffer to--"

    Valrisa silenced her with the sharp raise of a hand. "Do not finish that sentence," she snarled. "I promise you'll regret it."

    The Dowager continued to glare at her before sniffing as she pivoted around. "I've already wasted enough time here. Come, Marv, and don't forget the bust."

    "As your will commands, mistress," MR-V dully replied, following her with the bust of Count Nalju in its hands.

    As they left, Typha looked over at Valrisa, frowning. "Was that...?"

    "Yes."

    "She's worse than you described her."

    Valrisa said nothing, instead walking over to Hahgalor Mos and handing the relic to his servant Brophar.

    "There you go," she said to the Chevin. "I trust that my payment has already been transferred?"

    "Uh, yeah." Hahgalor looked over to Brophar. "How much did I bid for it again?"

    "Forty-two million credits, sir."

    "Forty-two--?!" Hahgalor's jaw dropped, a feat Valrisa didn't think was possible. "You can't be serious! Please tell me you aren't serious!"

    "I am serious, sir."

    Hahgalor clutched his enormous head. "By Soth's Great Jaw... what was I thinking?"

    Valrisa cleared her throat. "So... is that a yes?"

    "The money has indeed been transferred to your account," Brophar said.

    "Good." She turned and waved to Typha. "Come on, Typh. Time to go."

*  *  *

    Dorga Honda tapped his thumbs against the handle of his rotary blaster cannon. They would be coming out any minute now. It would not be long.

    As he waited, he tried to pass the time by doing math in his head. He wasn't particularly good at it; only when it came to profits.

    The Givin said we'd each get twenty percent. There was eight of us then. I killed Mador, making that seven. No, six. I just killed Graggna. So that would make it... forty percent? Wait, why am I even doing this? I'm trying to kill them all. Stupid Dorga.

    Yes, very stupid Dorga.

    The Aqualish blinked. That hadn't been him, had it? He wasn't crazy like Rega. No, that had been someone from behind him. Dorga didn't have time to turn around however, as in that span of time of him trying to figure things out, a red lightsaber had pierced him from behind and he was suddenly on the ground, watching through blurry eyes as the black-robed man walked past his dying body and entered the building.

*  *  *

    "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

    "I told you I should've worn my mask," Valrisa bitterly replied as she and Typha walked towards the exit.

    "Look, I didn't know your mom was gonna be there!" Typha said. "I just thought it would be rude if you kept your mask on. Besides...."

    Valrisa looked over her shoulder at the Pantoran. "Besides what?"

    Typha cast her gaze downward, twirling a strand of pink hair with her finger. "Your bangs make you look cute."

    Feeling her cheeks redden, Valrisa returned her eyes to the entrance up ahead. The door was already open and a man clad in black was walking up towards them. His hair was long and dark, and a black tattoos were etched all around his face, with a single gold one stretching across the bridge of his nose.

    Valrisa stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening. "Zarin?"

    The man stopped as well, his mouth falling open. "Sare?"

    "Boy, it's just one warm reunion after the other," Typha said dryly. "Look, can we just leave already? I'm already sick of this--"

    She was cut off by a scream coming from down the hall. All three turned to see Hahgalor Mos standing there, a hole burning between his eyes. From behind the Chevin appeared a Givin in a black cloak, carrying the Eye of Kaas in his hands.

    "If you want something done," the Givin said as he strode towards the group, "you must do it yourself."

    "Nasoth?" Zarin sounded incredulous. "But... but you're in Lord Krayt's captivity."

    The Givin stopped and stared at Zarin, looking him up and down. "You're one of Krayt's Sith?"

    Zarin blinked. "Um, yeah?"

    "Pity. I had expected better." The Givin held up his hand, the palm on which a strange symbol was drawn on. "But you'll do."

Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta IV, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--Metru Nui--

   Turaga Lhikan watched as his fellow elder Dume paced back and forth in the Coliseum's main hall. He found it hard to believe that, not so long ago, he had once stood before the Turaga of Metru Nui as a Toa, a warrior who served as subordinate. Now they stood together as equals.

   Or, at least, he thought they did. Some days, Dume would speak to him as if he were still the same Toa of Fire who would run head-first into danger; the same Toa of Fire Dume would time and again berate for being foolhardy. The same Toa of Fire Dume himself had a hand in creating.

   Lhikan could understand why. Although they were both Turaga, Dume still had the greater control over Metru Nui, and after everything that had happened in the past seven to eight months, had only tightened that control. He had even heard Dume suggest putting the Vahki back into use, despite the general consensus being against him.

   He knew Dume care about the Matoran... but sometime he feared Dume cared for their safety a little too much.

   After nearly twenty minutes had passed on in silence, Lhikan finally decided to speak his mind -- something he had been afraid to do since he had arrived here. "Are you sure they're the right Toa for the task?"

   Dume spared him a glance, his eyes narrowed behind his crimson mask. "They're your Toa, Lhikan. And they're the only Toa we have in Metru Nui."

   "Yes, but..." Lhikan paused, considering his next words. "If this task is as urgent as you say it is, and if you do not consider Tehutti and the others the right Toa for the task, then we can always send out a message for anyone else who is up to take it."

   Dume stopped pacing and turned fully to face Lhikan, giving his fellow Turaga a quizzical look. "Are you admitting to having chosen the wrong Matoran to become Toa?"

   "I didn't say that," Lhikan snapped. "But I can acknowledge the fact that they are not as experienced as most other Toa."

   "Is that right?" Dume said. "Then perhaps now is the perfect opportunity for them to get experience. The Kanohi Dragon was your first major challenge; this is theirs."

   "And Makuta wasn't?"

   Dume let out a harsh laugh. "A challenge they failed, perhaps. And if it hadn't been for the assistance of Matoran, Rahi, and these Rahaga fellows, we would still be under Makuta's rule."

   Lhikan opened his mouth to retort but Dume stopped him with the raise of a hand. "I'm giving them a second chance, Lhikan. With any other Toa, I would have them get as far away from Metru Nui as possible. But I trust your faith in them. If they can perform this one task, then all is forgiven."

   "And if they fail?"

   Dume's look was a grim one. "I think you and I both know the answer to that."

   Lhikan frowned but said nothing. At that moment, the doors opened and the six Toa in question -- Tehutti, Nuhrii, Ahkmou, Vhisola, Orkahm and Ehrye -- entered the room.

   "You asked to see us, Turaga?" Tehutti said.

   "Indeed, Toa of Earth," Dume said gravely. "You and your team are needed for an urgent task."

   "Wait, for real?" Ehrye asked. "You want us to perform something urgent? Even after--"

   Tehutti raised a hand to silence the Toa of Ice. "What Ehrye means, Turaga, is that we would be honored and are ready to undertake whatever you have in mind for us."

   Dume grunted. "Is that so? In that case, Lhikan here shall you brief you on your mission."

   The red and gold Turaga cleared his throat as he stepped up. "We have received word that the Makuta's armies are making their way through the Great Sea, conquering lands one by one. Since there is a high chance of them returning to Metru Nui to retake what they had lost. As such, we must be ready to fend off any invasion that may come."

   "Are you asking us to find other Toa?" Nuhrii asked. "Because I can't think of any other way to fight Makuta again, especially if he's going to bring an army with him."

   Lhikan shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Nuhrii. However, your mission does concern a Toa -- a Toa of Light."

   "A Toa of what now?" Orkahm asked.

   "A Toa of Light," Dume said. "The Rahaga have recently revealed to us that they have the Kanohi Avohkii, the Great Mask of Light, in their possession, sealed within the Makoki Stone."

   Ehrye looked at Ahkmou. "What's a Makoki Stone?"

   "Why are you asking me?" Ahkmou snapped.

   "You're our Toa of Stone. I thought knowing every type of rock in the universe was part of your trade."

   Ahkmou held a fist up to the Ice Toa's mask. "One more word out of you and I'll show you what exactly is part of my trade."

   Dume slammed the bottom of his staff against the floor, the loud sound resonating enough to break up the bickering Toa. "That's enough!" he bellowed. "I've seen Le-Matoran act with more maturity than you."

   "That's a low blow," Orkahm muttered.

   Lhikan's eyes briefly met Dume's, the latter glaring at him. The younger Turaga then looked back at the Toa and sighed. "Anyway. It is the Rahaga's belief that the Mask of Light will lead to the one who shall bear it, and only they shall have the power to fend off the Makuta."

   "So that's it then?" Ahkmou asked. "We're just going to let a stupid mask lead us on some sort of Dikapi chase?"

   "It's not as if you have better things to do here," Vhisola said wryly. "Unless you're that attached to Po-Metru."

   "If you do not feel that you are up to the task, Toa of Stone, then perhaps you should stay behind," Dume said to Ahkmou. "You wouldn't want to be a burden to your teammates now, would you?"

   Ahkmou scowled at the Turaga as he crossed his arms. "No," he muttered. "Of course not."

   "Good. Then I suppose you are ready. The Rahaga are waiting at Ga-Metru."

   "Be forewarned however," Lhikan interjected. "The seas are a dangerous place. The Makuta's forces are everywhere, and who knows what lands the Mask of Light will take you through."

   "Don't worry, Turaga," Tehutti said assuredly. "We're Toa. We'll get things done."

   With that, the Toa of Earth turned and left the hall with his teammates. As soon as they were gone, Dume looked at Lhikan grimly.

   "Arrogant, that one is."

   "Was I any different back then?" Lhikan asked.

   "Maybe not," Dume admitted. "But you proved yourself with the Kanohi Dragon incident, so I had no reason to worry. They have yet to do the same."

   Lhikan fell silent for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Be honest with me now," he said, already knowing what the response was going to be. "Do you think they will succeed?"

   Dume stared at him. "Do you really want my answer?"

   "If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."

   "Then no."

   Lhikan bowed his head as Dume walked away, leaving the other Turaga alone with his guilt.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia VI, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

    "Am I the only one getting a sense of deja vu about this trip?"

    Standing by the O Fortuna's viewport as the shuttle made its way down to Caminus, Overhaul turned his head to look at Skids, raising an optics ridge. "Come again?"

    "When we came to Caminus last year, Rodimus brought twenty of us to the Camien Citadel to meet with the Mistress of Flame." Skids grimaced as he stared at the reconstructed Citadel of Flame, which the shuttle was fast-approaching. "Needless to say, it wasn't a pleasant experience."

    Overhaul looked around the ship. "Well, we've only got ten bots here this time, so... maybe our odds will be better this time."

    "How does that track?" asked Stormshot, who sat next to Skids. "Wouldn't our odds be better if we had more bots?"

    Overhaul shook his head. "Not in my experience, kid. Less is more, I always say. That's how we won the Battle of Fortress Sinister in 7811. The 'Cons thought they had us outnumbered, and we were down to only five bots. But Apex Bomber was able to pull through and single-handedly--"

    "Forget I asked," Stormshot muttered.

    Skids sighed but kept silent for the rest of the trip. There was still something about coming back to Caminus that made him feel uneasy. Part of it was the fact that the Citadel had been rebuilt so soon after the Secret Order had destroyed it, as well as the fact that the Mistress of Flame had made little comment on the ordeal, even though she had nearly been kidnapped.

    Even besides all that, Caminus had always struck him as being too perfect. For many millennia, up until and after the Golden Age, Cybertron had had its issues with energon shortages, forcing its colonies to suffer as a result. Yet somehow Caminus had been able to establish a cityscape nearly as beautiful as Iacon had been during the Golden Age.

    Sure, Skids thought, they had received a number of resources when they reestablished contact with Cybertron via Thunderclash. But how could that have been enough to bring Caminus to its current state of beauty? He supposed he could ask Nautica or Velocity about this discrepancy, but he somewhat doubt he would get much answers. Maybe he would have Nautica take him and Nightbeat on a tour through the Citadel and perhaps then they could piece things together.

    Upon reaching the Citadel, the O Fotuna docked in the hangar bay next to a white and blue shuttle, and Star Saber's crew of ten disembarked. Standing outside to greet them was Firestar, former first mate of the Vis Vitalis (as well as Nautica's amica endura), along with a pair of Torchbearers who bore the unit's unified teal and red color scheme.

    "Welcome to Caminus," Firestar said as she shook hands with Star Saber. She then smiled and nodded at Skids, Nautica, and Nightbeat, who had all been members of Rodimus' party last year. "And welcome back. What brings you here?"

    "We are here on behalf of the Council of Worlds," Star Saber explained. "It has recently come to our attention that there is a specialized ore of energon here on Caminus. We are here to retrieve it before it falls into the wrong hands."

    "Oh, right. The Mistress of Flame informed me of that." Firestar smirked in Nautica's direction. "I just wasn't expecting to see you guys here. I thought you were still searching for Cyberutopia."

    "We are," Star Saber clarified. "We've simply been forced to take a few... detours. Fortunately, Caminus happens to be along the way."

    "Is that right?" Firestar tapped her chin as she seemed to think for a moment. "Well... I suppose now is as good a time as any to break the news. I don't think the Forgefire Parliament's contacted Cybertron yet...."

    Star Saber frowned. "Contacted Cybertron about what?"

    "Cyberutopia has already been found."

    "WHAT?!"

    Drift and Nautica had the loudest exclamations. Skids and Nightbeat were too dumbfounded to even speak. Overhaul, Stormshot, Flareup and Apelinq ranged from confused to almost disappointed.  Vector Prime was unreadable while Star Saber stared at Firestar with a perplexed expression.

    "What do you mean it's been found?" he asked. "Found by whom?"

    Before Firestar could answer, a fourteenth bot strode into the hangar bay, walking swiftly and proudly as a joyous expression beamed from his gold faceplate.

    "Firestar! You didn't tell me we had visitors!"

    "Oh my god," Nautica whispered, a hand falling over her mouth.

    "Now this is a mystery I just can't wait to solve," Nightbeat murmured.

    Star Saber stiffened as the white, red and blue bot approached them. "Thunderclash. You look... alive."

    Thunderclash grinned at him. "And you look like you've seen a ghost. I don't believe we've been acquainted?"

    "No, we haven't. At least, not directly." Star Saber tentatively offered his hand. "Star Saber, captain of the Lost Light. Before the war, I used to be called Wing Dagger; my brother served in the Elite Guard under your command."

    Thunderclash chuckled as he shook the proffered hand. "Ah, Wing Saber, I presume? Yes, I believe he's mentioned you before. So then, what is this about Cyberutopia I was hearing?"

    "I believe they've been searching for it for the past year or so," Firestar said. "Rodimus brought them here last year, if I recall correctly. It was just before you seemingly perished."

    Thunderclash raised an optic ridge, smirking. "Is that so? Funny; I've been doing the same ever since the war ended. Unfortunately, my condition made it rather difficult to pursue such a quest...."

    "And that's another thing," Nightbeat interjected, stepping in between the two captains. "How are you still alive? We thought you were blown up with the Citadel!"

    "Nightbeat," Star Saber quietly admonished the detective. "Time and place...."

    Thunderclash chuckled. "Correct. This really isn't the place for this conversation. I suggest we move to the Grand Hall; the Mistress is awaiting us there."

    Skids frowned. "I don't know. Last time we were in the Grand Hall, we got locked in and nearly blown up."

    Thunderclash laughed as he turned to lead the Crusadercons away. "Oh, you needn't worry about that happening this time."

    "Yeah? Why not?"

    "Because I'm here now."

*  *  *

    Back on the Lost Light, Rung sat alone in his office.

    For once, he did not have any appointments scheduled for today. Of course, they had only just left Cybertron; there was still plenty of time for someone to approach him with their troubles. But Whirl had already spoken to him of his recent Vehicon experience, Skids was getting by with his resurgent memories, and even Stormshot had come to terms with her past.

    For the first in a long time, Rung had no one to listen to.

    He had thought about accompanying Skids and the others to Caminus but something had compelled him to stay behind. Perhaps he just needed some peace and quiet for once; after all, Camiens were rather known for their parties.

    As he fiddled with his model of the Fateful Archetype, he felt a strange stirring within his spark chamber. He stopped for a moment, wondering if perhaps the model was subconsciously evoking the feelings of guilt he associated it with, which he had long since pushed away. But when he put the model away in exchange for one of the Longbow, the feeling persisted. In fact, it was even worse now.

    Without warning, the model fell from his hands just as a shaft of light burst from his chest. Keeling over, Rung put his hands over his mouth and retched. Something fell out of his mouth and through his fingers, pealing as it hit the floor.

    It was at that exact same moment that alarms began to ring throughout the ship....

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia VI, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--Caminus--

    "I can't believe you'd ever want to come back here...."

    "I didn't," Anode muttered as she slunk through the narrow streets of Parvus Oppidum, brushing her way past Camiens walking this way and that. "But I didn't exactly have a choice, did I? Once Moscardo's got his mind set on something, he never backs down on it. And he was pretty adamant about meeting on Caminus."

    "Gee, sounds like someone I know...."

    Anode bit back a ready retort. She was already getting strange looks from passerby for talking to her backpack. She kept silent as she continued her way through the desolate town. Parvus Oppidum was very much the polar opposite of the Camien capital, Magna Oppidum, and even some of the other frontier towns that neighbored it. Anode wasn't aware of any reason for such a disparity, but she didn't care enough to find out. The sooner they were off Caminus, the better.

    She eventually reached the run-down shack that was the agreed-upon meeting place, located on the very edge of the town where virtually no residents were present. She knocked on the door once before it was opened by a short gray and yellow bot, leaning on a makeshift cane to make up for his missing left leg.

    "About time," Moscardo grunted, an unpleasant scowl fixed on his gold face. "Come in."

    Anode obliged, stepping into the derelict building while Moscardo closed the door behind her. Lug detached from her back and transformed, matching the Camien in height.

    She pointed at Moscardo's missing limb. "What happened to your leg?"

    "Don't ask," he muttered.

    "Uh, I just did."

    "Well, don't ask again," he snapped, brushing past her. "We're not here to make small talk."

    "Then what are we here for?" Anode asked. "You wouldn't say when you contacted me."

    "Because I didn't want the call to be intercepted." Moscardo gestured for the pair to follow him down the hall. "We're being watched."

    "Watched by whom?" Lug asked.

    Moscardo did not answer as he led the two to another room. Anode and Lug stepped in to find two others standing inside; both bots were people Anode was familiar with.

    "Wipe-Out? Scammer?" she asked. "What are you guys doing here?"

    "Same reason as you," said Scammer, leaning against the wall. "Moscardo summoned us here to meet with him. He didn't tell us why."

    "Well, seeing as we're all here, I suppose I might as well cut to the chase," Moscardo said after shutting the door. "We are being hunted."

    "Hunted?" Anode asked. "By whom? What for?"

    "The Grand Architect. For being blacksmiths."

    "Techy? You mean he's still in business? I haven't heard from him in... well, since Lug and I came back after having been missing for five hundred years."

    "None of us have," Wipe-Out murmured, anxiously tapping his fingers together. "It's been radio silence from him for over a year now."

    "It all started when I lost contact with Rocket last year," Scammer said. "He was serving on the Vis Vitalis when he and a bunch of other crewmembers started mysteriously dying. At first I didn't think much of it... until I found Fastshot dead on Hedonia. Rocket and I had worked with him during the Ibex job."

    "But... how do you know it's Techy who's behind this?" Lug asked.

    "Who else could it be?" Moscardo grunted. "Rocket and Fastshot were both formerly in the Architect's employ. Just like Anode. Just like Wipe-Out. Just like me."

    "So why gather us all here?" Anode asked. "Why were you so adamant about meeting on Caminus?"

    "Because the Grand Architect wouldn't dare try to cause trouble with the Camiens," said Moscardo. "Not unless he wished to invoke the ire of the Council of Worlds. We should be safe here."

    "'Should' isn't exactly a full reassurance," Anode remarked. "Besides, why choose a town like Parvus for us to meet and not somewhere like the capital where the Torchbearers can be called in?"

    Moscardo glared at her as he leaned on his cane. "I'm not exactly at my most... mobile at the time being."

    "Why not get parts for a replacement leg?" Lug asked.

    "Parvus isn't exactly high on resources," Moscardo grunted. "And before you suggest it... turning to the capital isn't exactly an option either."

    Anode frowned. "Why not? I know Caminus has had a history of energon shortages, but now that Cybertron's been restored... shouldn't Parvus be as flourishing as the rest of the planet?"

    Moscardo sighed. "You really don't know much about Caminus, do you? You think the capital is representative of the entire planet."

    "Isn't it?" Anode asked.

    Before Moscardo could reply, Lug held a hand to her audio receptor. "Hey... does anyone else hear people panicking?"

    Everyone in the room went silent, allowing the sound of alarmed cries and screaming to be much more apparent. Anode eyed Moscardo as he tentatively opened the door and hobbled down the hall. The other blacksmiths followed him outside and joined him on the streets of Parvus Oppidum, where several Camiens were scrambling for shelter. It did not take long for them to see why.

    Hovering in the sky above was a massive ship, shaped to resemble the Decepticon insignia. Such factionist vessels had long since been abandoned by the Decepticons from what Anode understood... which left only one individual whom she knew still utilized them.

    "I guess you were wrong, Mos," she murmured. "He would dare."

    "Impossible," Moscardo whispered. "There's no way he could have known we'd be here. Unless...."

    Before he could finish the thought, there was a flash of light as over a dozen robots materialized in the middle of the street. Many of them were bots of a kind Anode didn't recognize -- certainly not Decepticons -- while their leader was an orange and red bot with a wide grin on his face.

    "Well, would you look at that? Looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

    Moscardo's mouth fell agape in shock. "Flame? But... I thought you were sent to Garrus-9!"

    The red bot chuckled. "I was, but that place isn't exactly good at keeping prisoners these days. I must say, it was nice of you to gather so many blacksmiths in one place."

    "How did you know we'd be here?" Scammer demanded. "And better yet, why are you hunting us? Why did you kill Rocket and Fastshot?"

    Flame smirked. "Now, did I say I would be taking questions? No, I don't believe I did."

    Scammer let out an enraged cry as he charged towards Flame and his entourage, ignoring Moscardo's protests. As the blue-plated blacksmith drew closer, an unfazed Flame motioned to his troopers and as one they opened fire. Anode and the others could only watch in horror as Scammer was gunned down, his ravaged body dropping dead to the ground.

    "That's one down," Flame said as his party pointed their guns at the remaining blacksmiths. "Only three more to go...."

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part II

WITHERING GLARE, PART II

--Ord Talavos--

    Life was miserable.

    This, as far as MR-V was concerned, was fact. Life, as he had experienced it, was the most miserable, most wretched thing in the entire galaxy. And if anyone doubted him, he had 394 years worth of data to prove them wrong.

    Not that it would make a difference, of course. He was constantly surrounded by organics too stupid and blind to see the truth. Granted, life seemed to pass by too fast for them to recognize its many glaring flaws. That, and they were too busy with multiplying themselves, which only surrounded him with more idiots to serve.

    For the past century had he been serving his current family, after his previous one mysterious died out. While he would never admit to ever being fond of any of the organics he had come to serve, he did consider the Dowager to be the least miserable company. That wasn't saying much, of course -- he was always supremely miserable -- but it was something in the void of nothing that was his life.

    All of that however failed to avail his current feeling of eternal depression as he stood in a room filled with disgusting organics of all shapes and sizes. He calculated an approximate of 42 different species, ranging from humans to Bah'r Kilidos to Sy Myrthians, all totaling an approximate of 151 sapient beings. All of these beings were bidding on the same worthless item.

    This was going to take a depressingly long time.

    MR-V stood beside his master as the last of the would-be bidders filed into the room. The Dowager, as she was known for her remarkable record of deceased husbands, observed them all with her usual face of utter distaste, her pointed nose wrinkling to add a few more creases to her face.

    "More than half of these people want me dead," she said.

    MR-V did not reply. He never did. His thoughts were never asked for.

    "Honestly, the kind of people Malvis allows into his cabal. Hahgalor Mos, Gaar Tandoon, Drakmos the Despised... I remember the days when only the most prestigious were given the pleasure of joining."

    Every bit of MR-V's circuitry wanted to remark on the fact that all of those the Dowager had mentioned had power bases equal to her's in terms of wealth and prestige, if not greater. But he knew what happened to droids who dared to speak out. So he kept silent, as always.

    Up ahead, the ebony-skinned Sakiyan auctioneer was emerging, followed by mobile pedestals which carried the objects to be bid on, the last one being the gem of the day. The small triangular totem was protected by a transparisteel dome. Many failed to see how such a pathetic little thing could be worth anything, let alone attract the interest of so many people.

    But what did he know? He was just a server droid.

    Shifting his gaze elsewhere, MR-V noticed a pair of organic females sitting just off to the side, not far from where the auctioneer stood. One was a young Pantoran while the other looked to be a human with black hair, although her head was bowed to hide her face.

    Normally MR-V would not waste more than a gigabyte of memory on an organic -- or anyone for that matter -- but something about the human was keeping his attention. A number of subroutines were acting up, sensors screeching at him. This human was important, they were telling him. If only he knew why....

    A loud ring sounded and the room quieted down. The auctioneer cleared his throat as he held up a microphone.

    "Hello! Thank you all for coming. My name is Kodai Loh, curator of the Braglon Museum. Today, I would like to present to you an object that, while it may not look like much, is actually...."

    MR-V tuned out the auctioneer's speech. He was not programmed to have any interest in whatever was going on. He was a server droid; nothing more. He couldn't care less about this stupid totem. He didn't know what a 'Sith' or a 'Teth' was, nor did he cared about this Vasim Alazar person or the fact that the two organics who retrieved the artifact were named Typha Lorr and--

    "Sare Valrisa."

    MR-V's sensors pricked up at that. His optics instantly went to the dark-haired woman, whose head now hung even lower. So that was why his subroutines had been acting up. Even though it had been a very long time, his memory banks still registered her name and face. Sare Valrisa, famed bounty hunter and artifact collector.

    Sare Valrisa, daughter of the Dowager Valrisa. Estranged daughter.

    Suddenly, although he still felt utterly depressed about everything, things had gotten just a bit more interesting. Seeing the rictus of anger on the Dowager's face all but confirmed that.

*  *  *

    The auction had begun. It was time to get to work.

    Trask had already seven security guards on the building's premises. While Thovak and Karvis worked on bringing that number down, he tasked Lind Rega with hacking into their main grid.

    "We need to get that door open without raising any alarms," Trask had told her. "Subtlety is key here."

    "Won't we be raising alarms anyway by stealing this artifact?" the Ishi Tib had replied.

    "Well, yeah, but we don't want to announce ourselves too early. There'd be no fun in that."

    In short time, the outside guards had been dispatched and Rega had gotten the door open. Trask then had Thovak and Karvis bring him two of the guards' uniforms for him and Shel Vosin to put on.

    "What if they don't have any Anomid guards?" Vosin had asked. "Won't that raise some suspicion?"

    "Shel, what did I tell you about raising needless concerns?"

    The Anomid kept quiet after that.

    Once the two of them were in, Rega closed the door behind them while Dorga and Graggna took position outside. Thovak had already done his part for now while Karvis was on his own. If only they still had Mador; then Trask would feel a little less apprehensive about this whole sting.

    Upon reaching the auction room, the two Snatchers found themselves lost in a crowd of sentient creatures of various species, all from the many factions of Malvis' cabal. To Trasks's discomfort, he recognized a good majority of them.

    "Keep your face shield down," he murmured to Vosin, already pulling down his.

    "Why?"

    "So we don't get caught, moron."

    "Oh," the Anomid said sheepishly as she lowered her helmet's face shield. "Sorry."

    Pushing their way through the crowd, Trask and Vosin eventually took position against the wall, midway between the door and where the Sakiyan auctioneer stood with the items two Weequay guards protected the artifact, their leathery faces impassive behind their face shields.

    "So how do we go about this?" Vosin whispered to him. "Wait until someone wins it and then corner them?"

    "Probably our best bet," Trask replied, carefully observing the proceedings. The auctioneer was rapidly firing off prices, with the representatives of each party raising it higher.

    "Sold! The portrait of Queen Yram goes to Gaar Tandoon of the Tandoon Clan!"

    Trask heard Vosin make a derisive noise. "Come on. Who'd be interested in--"

    "Focus!" Trask hissed. "We don't want to miss the name of whoever wins the artifact."

    "Sold! The bust of Count Nalju goes to the Dowager Valrisa!"

    "Oh stars, the Dowager is here?" Vosin scanned the crowd to see an old, elegantly dressed woman with hair clearly dyed yellow. "No wonder you want us to keep a low profile. I doubt she's forgotten about--"

    "Focus, Shel," Trask snapped. "The relic is after this one."

    He pulled at his collar, his face starting to sweat. He couldn't help but feel as if someone's eyes were on him. As far as he could tell, all of the Cabal members were focused on the items being auctioned off. Perhaps it was just nerves.

    "Sold! The mural of the Siege of Belasco goes to Drakmos the Despised!"

    "Say, Trask?" Vosin murmured.

    Trask closed his eyes, trying his best not to explode in anger. "Vosin, I swear to--"

    "I think that Pantoran over there is staring at you."

    Opening his eyes, Trask looked over to see a blue-skinned woman sitting near the auctioneer, along with a dark-haired woman. Indeed, the blue girl was staring directly at him.

    "Oh stars...." he muttered.

    "What? She a friend of yours?"

    Trask did not answer. He almost forgot where he was until he heard the voices in the room getting louder. Everyone was bidding for the Eye of Kaas now, climbing well past the reserve price. The Pantoran's eyes were off him now, instead looking surprised at the outrageous prices the gangsters were bidding for a simple artifact. Eventually, things began to calm and Kodai Loh clapped his hands.

    "Sold! The Eye of Kaas goes to Hahgalor Mos!"

    That was it then. They had their target. At least it was the Chevin and not Drakmos. That would have made things particularly tricky.

    "Let's head outside," he said to Vosin. "I'll radio Rega and--"

    "Sorry, Trask."

    He blinked and looked back at Vosin, who had her blaster raised at him. "What...?"

    "I'm doing things my way."

    She pulled the trigger and everything went dark.

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia VI, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

--From the Keening Texts--

    In the beginning, there was one.

    The First Light stood forth on the miracle planet he himself had been birthed from. Within minutes of his own creation, the First Light felt a nest of sparks within him and in a blinding light one became five:

    Primus, Light-giver and life-giver;

    Mortilus, Death-bringer;

    Solomus, Wisdom Incarnate;

    Epistemus, Knowledge Personified;

    and Adaptus, Blessed with an Infinity of Shapes.

    Together, the Guiding Hand with a single gesture brought forth the first generation of Transformers and guided Cybertron into its First Golden Age. Their work fulfilled, the gods withdrew... save for one.

    Unsatisfied with just Cybertron, Mortilus sought to expand his reach to the cosmos. When he began using one of Cybertron's moons as staging grounds for his macabre devices, the other four were forced to intervene. Thus began the God War.

    Many fell to Mortilus' wrath, including his brothers. Both Adaptus and Epistemus were reduced to their bare components, while Solomus was sealed within a crystalline prison. Weakened by their loss, Primus used the last of his energy to banish Luna 1 to the depths of space, destroying Mortilus in the process. He then transferred his remaining essence into Vector Sigma, a casket he had fashioned for himself.

    Over the next several eons, the Guiding Hand would persist as ideas before reforming their entities in the Afterspark, where they would greet their children once all had become one.

--The Lost Light--

    "That's not how I remember it."

    Drift glanced at Cyclonus as he nursed his can of engex, sitting in Swerve's for the first time in over a year. "It's from the Keening Texts," he said to the ex-Herald. "As translated from Beta Trion of the First Day Primitives."

    Cyclonus scowled. "I know. But that's not how the Clavis Aurea told of the tale. For starters, the Guiding Hand never withdrew from Cybertron; their rule was remote, but ever-present. Second of all, Luna One was torn out of Cybertron's orbit long before Mortilus met his fate. Thirdly--"

    "Look, the Keening Texts are the most wide-spread and well-known account of the Guiding Hand," Drift protested. "The Clavis Aurea, with all due respect, was a more... exclusive order. Very few today are known to have been a member. Plus, by the time I came online, they had all but disbanded."

    "Clavis Aurea or not, I think the whole Guiding Hand thing is bunk," said Scoop, sitting between the two. "In my eyes, everything ties back to Primus. Why else would the title of Prime be derived from his name in lieu of the other four 'gods?'"

    "Well, I doubt anyone would want to be named after Mortilus," Drift muttered. "But even then, Amalgamous Prime was said to be a believer of Adaptus. And the Matrix, made from Solomus' prison, was integrated into Prima's sword."

    "Either way, the Primes were at least real," Scoop retorted. "We have proof of that on this very ship. What evidence is there that Solomus or Epistemus ever existed?"

    Drift opened his mouth to argue but stopped when his messenger pinged. After sparing a moment to read it, he finished off his engex and rose from his seat.

    "That was Star Saber. He says we'll be nearing Caminus soon."

    Scoop grunted. "Convenient timing. Maybe you'll have a proper comeback ready by the time you get to the bridge."

    Drift simply gave him a look before leaving the bar. Once he was gone, Scoop shifted in his seat until he was facing Cyclonus. He watched the ex-Herald carefully, looking him up and down while the purple warrior avoided eye contact with him.

    After a tense silence, Scoop finally spoke. "You believe in the Primes, don't you?"

    Cyclonus said nothing, staring into space as if the orange bot didn't even exist.

    "I know you must. You served one. Nova Prime, right?"

    Cyclonus tightened his grip around his oil can. "What is the purpose of this conversation?"

    "I'm just trying to get a read on you. You used to be a Herald of Unicron, yeah?"

    At this, Cyclonus turned and met Scoop's gaze, red optics blazing. Scoop was unfazed, glaring back at him with equal ire.

    "I just don't understand how someone who once worshiped the Uncreator could call himself a true follower of--"

    Scoop gagged as Cyclonus' hands found their way around his neck. Immediately, other patrons were on their feet while Swerve's reprogrammed bouncer accosted Cyclonus from behind, placing a large gold hand on his shoulder.

    "Ten."

    "I knew one of these days he'd snap," remarked a nearby Autobot, training their weapons on Cyclonus. "S'was only a matter of time."

    Realizing what he was doing, Cyclonus immediately released Scoop. The ex-Wrecker stepped back as he massaged his neck before waving the other bots off.

    "I'm fine. We're fine. Just a bit too much engex in the system, that's all." He gave Cyclonus one last glare before looking away. "Let him be."

    After a moment, the Autobots and Ten backed away, although they continued to eye Cyclonus warily. Unable to take any more, the former Herald promptly turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar.

*  *  *

    "Caminus."

    The name sounded so alien when Vector Prime spoke it. Indeed, he had not heard it in well over nine thousand years after the Primes and Titans had all gone their separate ways. While Vector had not known for certain where Caminus had departed to after Solus' death, he had been pretty certain that the Titan had gone to a small world which Solus had already chosen to be her colony. Since she had perished before her plans could come to fruition, Caminus must have settled the world himself and fulfilled her dream.

    The results certainly showed.

    "It's beautiful," he murmured to himself, gazing in awe at Caminus' vibrant sheen, coated in pristine silver and sparkling crystal. It evoked dreams Vector once had of Cybertron, of what he and the Primes hoped to have built had they not turned against one another. It merely came to prove that others had succeeded where the Thirteen had failed....

    Vector Prime was broken from his reverie when a hand fell on his shoulder. The ancient Prime looked over to see Star Saber standing next to him.

    "Hey," the red and blue bot said carefully. "Are you doing all right?"

    "I'm fine," Vector said, quickly composing himself. "It's just... I've never actually been to any of my fellow Primes' colonies. In all my travels, I've for the most part avoided contact with my fellow Cybertronians."

    Star Saber nodded. "I see. Did you not have a colony of your own to watch over?"

    "If I do, I don't believe I've made contact with it. Very few of our colonies were ever personally settled by the Prime in question. In fact, I know of only Onyx successfully establishing his."

    "Well, maybe one day we can seek out your world and you can make up for your absence," Star Saber said. "In any case... are you ready to head down with us?"

    Vector smirked. "I'm not sure 'ready' is the proper word. Perhaps 'apprehensive' would be more appropriate."

    Star Saber chuckled. "Knowing this crew and the luck we have? You'd probably be on to something."

DISTANT STARS

Part 2: Light the Way

Bionicle Alternatives: Empire of Makuta IV, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Karda Nui, 60,000 years ago

Storms of energy raged outside the cave's maw, an indication that the universe was operating as it was supposed to. It was because of these Energy Storms that the population of Karda Nui were forced to live in caves, never getting to see daylight.

Today, a select few were about to be given that chance, even if it meant none of them were going to remember a single day without it.

As she stood at the edge of the cave, watching the Energy Storms rage on, Toa Helryx heard the approach of one of her operatives and turned to see Orkosan. The four-armed titan was accompanied by Botar, who had three Matoran of Light with him.

"These three are the last," Orkosan said. "Botar is taking them to Daxia now."

Helryx nodded. "Very well. Let us leave then."

The Toa of Water stepped forward to join Botar but Orkosan raised a hand to stop her. The look on his face indicated that he wished to have a word with her in private. Helryx gave Botar a silent nod and the Order agent vanished with the three Av-Matoran, leaving Helryx alone with Orkosan.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Johmak's returned from her mission to the Southern Islands," he said. "She said there wasn't much to report; most of them are little more than barren wastelands... save for one in the eastern chain."

"She found something there?"

"She found more than just 'something.' I'm sure she'll give you more details when we get back to Daxia; I was only given the rundown."

"Is this 'something' dangerous?" Helryx asked.

Orkosan hesitated. "Potentially."

"Then I would very much like to hear that report. Are we all set?"

Orkosan nodded even as Botar returned to teleport them away.

"Then let us go."

*  *  *

"Takua!" Solek ran as fast as his small legs could carry him towards his best friend's cot. "Takua, you won't believe the dream I had! I was fighting these Avohkah, like I was a... a Toa! And then I--"

The Av-Matoran stopped dead in his tracks. Something wasn't right. Maybe it was the sudden fuzzy feeling in his head, or maybe it was because he could have sworn Tahkon had been just behind him.

Or maybe it was the fact that his best friend was missing.

"...Takua?"

--Metru Nui, now--

"Takua!"

Blue fingers tapped against Takua's mask, rousing the Ta-Matoran from the sleep he had fallen into. With a yawn, he rubbed the bleariness out of his eyes before looking at Nokama, who had an unpleasant look on her mask.

Takua smiled sheepishly. "I dozed off again, didn't I?"

Nokama huffed. "Only for the third time in as many hours. Can you tell me what subject we're on right now?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, something about the Toa Mangai? The Kanohi Dragon incident, I think."

She rolled her eyes. "Takua, that was an hour ago. We're on the Toa-Dark Hunter War now."

"Wait... I was asleep for that long? And you didn't notice?"

"You were hunched over your desk, so I thought you were writing down notes. It was only when you started snoring that I realized you weren't."

"Oh. Sorry."

The Ga-Matoran teacher sighed as she shook her head. "Takua, this stuff is important. If you want to become Chronicler, you have to learn all of Metru Nui's history. Kodan had to do the same."

"Well, I can't help it that there's so much to take in, especially in one day."

Nokama opened her mouth to retort until she glanced out the window, noticing that the twin suns were beginning to set. They had been at this all day....

"All right," she said instead. "I guess that's enough for today. I'll be sending you home with work to do though."

"Wonderful," Takua said dryly as he got up from his desk. "I look forward to learning such vital details like the names of the Civil War leaders' deputies, or the mask powers of all eleven Toa Mangai."

Nokama smirked as she hand Takua a stack of tablets for him to study. "Some day, you'll learn that the little things matter as much as everything else."

*  *  *

Hafu panted as he dropped his carving tool and collapsed onto the ground. He stared at the starlit sky of Po-Metru as he allowed all the tension to leave his aching body. It had taken all day, but he had finally done it; he had carved his largest creation to date... and he couldn't be more proud of himself.

"Do it again."

The Po-Matoran froze in place, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't have heard that right. His mind was playing tricks on him, a result from his lack of sleep.

"Didn't you hear me? I said do it again."

Hafu slowly sat up and tilted his head upwards to see a brown and black figure looming over him, eyes narrowed behind a Great Kanohi Rau.

"You missed a ridge," Toa Ahkmou said. "On my mask. Do it over again."

Hafu looked up at the twelve-feet tall statue of the Toa Metru of Stone and saw where he had made the mistake. Of course, only a carver with as keen eyes as his would notice. Or if one was particularly vain....

"Well," Hafu said, turning back to Ahkmou, "if you would let me climb back up the ladder, I could--"

"No," Ahkmou said firmly. "It's already tarnished. You will start over and you will do it now."

"But, Toa Ahkmou, the other Po-Matoran have already--"

The Toa of Stone took a step closer and glared down at Hafu. "You will do it now."

Hafu hastily nodded as he got to his feet and retrieved his tool. "Yes, Toa. Right away, Toa."

Ahkmou continued to watch the carver as he set back to work. Then, the Toa of Stone looked up at the sound of wind and saw his fellow Toa Metru Orkahm land on top of a large rock.

"Brother," the Toa of Air said. "You are needed at the Coliseum."

"What for?" Ahkmou asked.

"No questions. Turaga's orders."

Ahkmou rolled his eyes. "Fine." He briefly turned back to Hafu and gave the Po-Matoran a warning gesture. "Don't stop until it's perfect."

The carver said nothing as he watched the two Toa leave, though he did allow a small smile to creep onto his mask.

Well, if it's perfection you want, then I'll gladly oblige.

*  *  *

Dreams continued to haunt him, as they always had.

He was a Matoran again, living peacefully on his island home. Spending time with his friends Sarda and Idris, laughing at a joke Forron had shared with them, then staring in awe as a certain Vo-Matoran walked in.

Then he was a Toa, meeting with seven others to form the first ever Toa team. They didn't have a name then, and they didn't need one. The Matoran simply knew them as "the Toa."

Then the Zyglak attacked.

No. He was a Matoran again, minutes before he was transformed. He stared at the green stone in his hands, unsure if this was indeed his destiny, as he had been told. Then, someone nudged him with her arm.

"What's the matter?" she said with that bright smile of hers. "Don't you want to be a hero?"

His answer then had been yes. He should have said no.

Years later, after the Zyglak attack, he had returned to his village, hoping to find solace in the wisdom of his Turaga or the comfort of his friends.

Only there were no friends to comfort him. And the Turaga no longer had any wisdom to impart him with.

The deranged elder looked up at him, staring at him with mad eyes from behind his mask.

"All gone," he said amidst his nonsensical rambling. "All gone. Never coming back."

"Where are they? Where have you sent them?"

"Karzahni. They will find much happiness in Karzahni."

The scene changed again, this time to another one of brighter Matoran days: walking through a garden with Nikila, fishing with Idris, pulling tricks on Dekar with Sarda.

No, something wasn't right. He never dreamed about things like this, only the Zyglak and Orlan and....

And that was when he awoke.

*  *  *

Lesovikk opened his eyes to the blurry image of a blue and gold figure. Once his sight had adjusted, he saw that it was Orde kneeling next to him.

"I'm sorry," the Toa of Psionics murmured. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Shouldn't have done what?" Lesovikk asked as he sat up.

"I saw you thrashing in your sleep. I had a feeling it was the Zyglak incident you were dreaming of, which I know I'm... partially responsible for. So I used my powers and tried to give you more... pleasant dreams." Orde sighed as he looked away shamefully. "I shouldn't have, though. I shouldn't have messed with your mind like that."

"No, no. It's fine. You meant well, and besides... those dreams were the first good ones I've had in... quite some time." Lesovikk sighed wistfully. "Thank you."

Orde smiled. "Anytime. Now come on; we need to get a move on."

"What do you mean?" Lesovikk asked. "And where are we? Last I remember, we were on Odina."

"We were, until some huge titan teleported us here. As for where we are, your guess is as good as mine."

"I see. So why do we need to get moving?"

"Because the fate of the universe may very well be on our shoulders," Orde said as he helped Lesovikk up. "Or so I've been told."

THE HIDDEN ISLAND

Star Wars Eye of Kaas: Withering Glare, Part I

WITHERING GLARE, PART I

    Today was the day. The day of the auction.

    Well, not quite "day" at the moment. The moon still shone bright in Ord Talavos' sky, stars glittering in the black void. But it was well past midnight and Valrisa still had not slept a wink.

    She still couldn't quite put her finger on why she was feeling apprehensive. It wasn't the auction itself; she knew she was going to profit from it one way or another. It most certainly wasn't the artifact; she didn't believe in that "cursed" claptrap many spouted.

    Perhaps it was what that old Koorivar had told her on Bar'leth; about the Sith she had encountered on Tatooine. But she wasn't scared by some lunatics with red lightsabers... was she? Or rather, she wasn't scared for herself... but rather for those she held closest.

    What are you talking about? You're a bounty hunter. Only thing you care about are the credits.

    There it was again, that voice. The voice of her self-doubt. Ever since Tatooine it had been speaking up, questioning her every act. No matter how many times she told it to shut up, it just kept on talking.

    I'm losing my mind.

    She was broken from her thoughts by the rustling of bedsheets. She suddenly became conscious of the person whom lay beside her, hogging all of the covers to keep warm. The only person she held above herself.

    Don't be ridiculous. You're only in this for yourself.

    "Shut up," she grunted under her breath.

    You really think she cares about you? What makes you think she won't abandon you like all the others she has ditched?

    Valrisa sat up and swung her legs over her side of the bed. Typha did not stir as she got to her feet and walked to the refresher.

    She certainly likes to bring up all of her past flames. That alone should raise some red flags.

    She didn't know what good splashing water in her face would do, but it was all she could think of. She quickly stopped, hoping it hadn't wakened Typha. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the Pantoran was still fast asleep.

    It's a miracle she's stuck with you this long.

    She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The voice had a point; she hadn't expected this relationship to last longer than a few months yet here they were pushing three years. That was a record, especially for a pair of bounty hunters. Most partnerships, romantic or otherwise, between fringers never lasted for long, with one or both parties usually stabbing each other in the back before long. Maybe this actually meant something.

    Don't get your hopes up.

    Sighing quietly, she walked out of the refresher and climbed back into bed, being careful not to wake Typha. The azure girl still did not move, continuing to snore softly. Laying her head down on the pillow, Valrisa stared at the ceiling, watching the chronometer slowly count away the hours of the night.

    It was going to be a long day.

*  *  *

    There was less than a hour left until daybreak and Hahgalor Mos was already waiting for the day to be over.

    He had never been the patient type, but the past few days had been rather eventful for him. After learning about Vasim Alazar's faulty droid, he had immediately contacted Alazar's company Altech Industries, who supplied most of the droids within his organization. However, the Gossam CEO had simply brushed off his concerns and hung up on him, despite Hahgalor's threats.

    Now, not only was he paranoid of his droids, but he was also conscious of the fact that his threats were no longer, well, threatening. Maybe Altech Industries were simply used to angry crime bosses... or maybe he was losing his touch.

    No! Impossible. He was the great Hahgalor Mos, feared by all. The idea of someone not fearing him was unfathomable. Something was afoot. He had to get to the bottom of this.

    Shifting in his sleeping pod, he searched for the comm panel and pressed it to hail Brophar, his chief aide. A minute passed. No response. He pressed it again. Same result.

    Blasted thing's broken again. Growling to himself, Hahgalor moved to under the front latch of his pod so he could get out. The latch did not budge, however. No matter how hard he pushed it with his massive hands, it would not open.

    That was when he noticed the figure standing in front of him.

    He opened his mouth to yell out for his guards but something compelled him to stop. Instead, he simply watched as the figure approached him, their features difficult to discern in the darkness of his room. When they spoke, it was not in a voice he would associate with any sentient being, Chevin or otherwise.

    "Everything is fine."

    Hahgalor blinked, confusion washing away his fear. "What?" he said blankly.

    "Everything is fine. There is nothing to be worried about."

    He found himself nodding, although he wasn't sure why. "Yeah. You're right."

    "You will have a good day. You will be happy."

    The Chevin couldn't fight the grin that crossed his face. "Exactly. And don't you forget it."

    "Sleep well."

    With that, the figure disappeared and Hahgalor found himself quickly drifting away, content with himself.

    It was going to be a good day.

*  *  *

    The information they had extracted from Delnar had checked out. Valrisa and the artifact were indeed on Ord Talavos. Trask Moran found it strange that he'd never heard of the planet before now, but after a bit of researching, he soon found out why. 

    Established as a military outpost during the Old Republic's early years, it was left abandoned following a climatic battle between the Jedi and the Sith, and was all but forgotten by the time of the Ruusan Reformations. It was only rediscovered as recent as ten years ago by Black Sun, who established operations on the planet. When Black Sun collapsed, the mysterious Malvis Cabal immediately laid claim to the world and had made it the center of their network.

    Trask also found it curious that Ord Talavos wasn't far from Takodana, a similar haven for smugglers and pirates. He couldn't help but wonder if Maz Kanata was aware of Malvis' business and vice versa.

    Still, that didn't matter now. He and his crew were only here to do their job and get paid. In and out. One and done.

    Leaning back in his pilot seat, Trask glanced at his chrono. It was nearly dawn in the city of Vostal and the auction would be two hours after that. They still had a while to wait. Luckily, the Snatchers were a patient bunch.

    Hearing movement behind him, he turned around to see a burly Aqualish standing in the entrance to the cockpit. His black eyes were narrowed and his tusks clicked together quietly.

    "Can I help you?" Trask asked, raising an eyebrow.

    "There seems to be a problem with Mador," Dorga Honda replied.

    Trask waited for him to elaborate. When the Aqualish did not, he asked, "What's wrong with him?"

    "I think you should see for yourself."

    Rolling his eyes, Trask rose from his seat and followed Dorga out of the cockpit. The Aqualish took him portside, where Mador's quarters were located. The door was open and Trask could see right away what exactly Mador's problem was.

    "He's dead," he murmured, staring at the bloodied corpse of an Abyssin slumped against the doorway.

    "I know," Dorga replied.

    Trask gave him a look. "Then why didn't you just tell me?"

    "Because I didn't want you to think I did it."

    "How does that--"

    "I bet it was Karvis."

    Trask sighed as he pinched his nose. "Of course you do. You always think it's Karvis."

    "Or it could've been Rega. She's got some screws loose in that star-shaped head of hers."

    "Forget it." Trask waved a hand. "We don't have time to deal with this. Whoever did this, we'll just have to be on the lookout. For now, let's just get rid of the body before it stinks up the ship."

    Without a word, Dorga lumbered towards the deceased Mador and picked up the cyclops' corpse, before heading for the airlock. Trask rubbed his temple as he headed back for the cockpit.

    It was going to be a long day, that much he could tell. He only hoped it would be a good one in the long run.