Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XI, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

--Cybertron, during the age of Nominus Prime--

    Rung kept his head bowed as he sat patiently and silently in front of the single-eyed bot before him. Metal fingers danced on keyboards as the yellow and blue mechanoid rapidly changed the screens on its monitor, images flashing by too fast for Rung to distinguish them. A painfully grave silence permeated the room, a silence which made Rung increasingly uncomfortable with every passing minute. More than once he caught the Functionist stealing glances at him, ranging from suspicion to curiosity to even pure befuddlement. Rung wasn’t sure which was worse, or even if he should have been feeling nervous. It wasn’t like him to feel anxious, yet here he was scared for his future.

    Eventually, the typing ceased, and the yellow bot leaned away from its screen. After a moment of silent contemplation, the Functionist shifted its single optic to focus on Rung, studying him closely and carefully.

    “Where were you forged?” asked Two-of-Twelve, Auditor of the Functionist Council.

   “The Pious Pools,” Rung calmly answered her.

   “And your serial number?”

   “One million.”

   “Curious.” Two-of-Twelve returned her attention to her monitor, folding her hands in front of her chin. “And you were not informed of your purpose upon your forging?”

    Rung shook his head. “I was born well before functionism was even established; I remember when the Vinvissius Heights were the Vinvissius Canals. I don’t recall anyone ever being present for my forging. In fact, I don’t recall much from those days at all....”

    “I see.” Two-of-Twelve tapped her finger tips together, still staring at the monitor. “Well, Rung, I’m afraid we have reached a conundrum: We have no idea what you turn into.”

    Rung finally brought himself to look up at the Functionist, surprise mixing with worry on his face. “You don’t?”

    The Auditor shook her head. “There’s nothing in any of the established classes that even comes close to matching your alternate form. Our guess as to your purpose is as good as anyone’s at this point.”

    Rung readjusted his spectacles, hoping his nervousness wasn’t too overt. “So... what does this mean?”

    “I will have to convene with the rest of the Council, but I do believe we will have to reevaluate the Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy. Ten-of-Twelve isn’t going to like that very much....” The Functionist then rose from her seat, gathering her documents from her desk. “In the meantime, you may want to consider making minor alterations to your chassis; nothing major, just enough to reassure the public.”

    “Er, what kind of alterations?”

    “A wheel attachment would suffice, or even a pair of wings. Just something to convince others that you turn into something with a purpose. As long as nobody notices you, you should be fine.”

    Rung felt like he should have felt relieved at that point but still couldn’t help but still feel somewhat tense. “So... nothing’s going to happen to me?”

    “I’m not the one to make that decision,” Two-of-Twelve replied. “However, seeing as your skills in psychotherapy are highly valued by the High Council, you should still feel secure in your current position.”

    “Ah. Good.” Yet somehow, Rung didn’t.

    “That will be all for today, Rong of the Pious Pools,” Two-of-Twelve finally said, gesturing a hand towards the door. “Thank you for your time.”

    Rung wasted no time in getting up and making his exit. He didn’t even notice that she had gotten his name wrong.

--Cybertron, present day--

   “Was that Star Saber?”

    “Yes,” Rodimus Prime answered as he stepped back into the meeting chambers of the Council of Worlds. “They ran into trouble at Velocitron; the same Worldsweepers from Caminus have taken Velocitron’s Regenesis ore.”

    “Surely this should be cause for us to take action,” said Moonracer, one of Velocitron’s two representatives. “We can’t just sit by and let our worlds fall to these... monsters.”

    “Devisiun should be our top priority,” stated Fireshot, slamming a black servo on the table for emphasis. “We’ve already lost Eukaris and Caminus has already been targeted; if Velocitron has fallen, then Devisiun is sure to be their next stop.”

    “They could just as likely target one of the worlds that haven’t already joined the Council of Worlds,” noted Shockwave. “Arduria is only a dozen parsecs away from Cybertron.”

    “Even if that is the case, we should take advantage of the opportunity to fortify our defenses,” said Dai Atlas. “I lost Theophany because of my own failure to protect my people; I will not allow that same mistake to happen again.”

    “We’re all holding our breaths,” muttered Starscream offhandedly.

    Dai Atlas glared at the Decepticon but was prevented from calling him out when Windblade spoke up. “What about Elita-One and her forces on Earth? Have we heard back from them yet?”

    Rodimus Prime shook his head. “No, and I’m getting worried. It’s not like Elita to not provide consistent reports, and if they had run into trouble, she would have alerted us.”

    “Should we send someone there to find out what’s going on?” asked Tigatron.

    “I’m not sure if we have the resources to spare for that kind of mission, what with us focusing on the other colony worlds,” Rodimus said grimly. “I should have asked Star Saber to take the Lost Light to Earth, but....”

    “If you ask me, I say this entire ordeal seems dubious.” The remark had come from Knock Out, Velocitron’s second representative. The red sports car straightened up in his seat and cast a searching glance in Shockwave’s direction. “Far be it from me to make any accusing statements of my fellow councilors, but I can’t help but see it as suspect that, just when Shockwave told us about his little Regenesis program after all those bots started coming ‘back from the dead,’ these Worldsweepers started attacking worlds that just so happened to be seeded with these Regenesis ores.”

    “Are you implying that Shockwave is involved with all of this?” asked Dai Atlas, raising a questioning optic ridge.

    “Of course not,” Knock Out said with faux innocence. “I am simply stating my personal feelings on the subject. I would never make such extreme statements without substantial evidence... even if I do feel that there is enough for us to start looking at things more closely.”

    An uncomfortable silence took reign as some of the councilor glanced at Shockwave, careful not to make full eye contact with him while still expecting him to speak in his own defense. When the one-eyed Decepticon still did not speak, Rodimus Prime decided to take the risk of addressing him, taking care not to sound accusatory in his speech.

    “Shockwave? The floor is yours.”

    “So it is,” Shockwave calmly replied. “I stand by what I said when I first explained the Regenesis program to you, Prime: I would not dream of ever working against you.”

    “You realize that that statement is becoming harder and harder for us to believe, yes?” Dai Atlas said. “With our worlds in danger, we are going to need something stronger than that.”

    “I’m afraid I must agree,” said Obsidian. He and his fellow delegate Strika had been silent for most of the meeting, silently listening and observing the other councilors. “Shockwave, are you certain that no one else is aware of the extent of your Regenesis project?”

    “To the best of my knowledge,” Shockwave answered. “I have never willingly divulged any aspects of my operations to anyone save for my assistant Fistfight, who I can safely say is not capable of orchestrating something of this level. However, that is not to say that someone couldn’t have gotten their hands on my notes and deduced things for myself. Individuals such as Tarantulas and Scorponok have been known to be rather... prying when it came to things that were none of their concern.”

    “So even if it isn’t directly your fault, it still technically would be because you didn’t put safety locks on your garbage.” Knock Out’s smirk complemented his venomous tone. “I can’t be the only one to find humor in that.”

    “Knock Out, please,” Moonracer said. “This isn’t the time to antagonize one another. We need to focus on what’s important, such as protecting our worlds.”

    “Agreed; bickering will get us nowhere.” Dai Atlas looked to Rodimus. “How should we proceed, Prime?”

    “Let’s focus on Devisiun first,” Rodimus said. “Obsidian, Strika, I’ll leave that to you. Rally as many defense forces as you can -- Autobot or Decepticon, anyone you can bring -- and have them form a protective blockade around Devisiun. Fireshot, Vanquish, can you inform your leaders ahead of time?”

    “Consider it done,” said the quiet Vanquish.

    “Good. In the meantime....” As he spoke, Rodimus saw in his internal display that he was receiving a communications call. At first, he was about to dismiss it to return to later... until he did a double-take and saw who it was trying to contact him.

    Quickly raising a hand to his helm, the young Prime said, “Elita?”

    “Rodimus? Thank Primus, I didn’t think the signal was going to get through.”

    “Is everything all right? We lost contact with you and were beginning to fear the worst.”

    “You were right to,” Elita said dourly. “Listen, I don’t have much time to explain things; the Decepticons might intercept this transmission--”

    “Decepticons?” Rodimus asked.

    “--and we’re starting to lose your signal anyway, so please listen closely: Send help. There are forces at work here that even I don’t know fully understand let alone even begin to think how to tackle them.”

    “You don’t know the half of it,” Rodimus muttered. “I’ll send someone as soon as possible.”

    The signal cut out at that moment, but he was pretty sure Elita had heard him. Without sparing so much as a second, he switched channels. “Blaster, get me back through to the Lost Light.”

*  *  *

    “How’s everything looking, Cog?”

    “You already asked me that, like, five minutes ago,” the security bot bitterly replied over the comm.

    “It never hurts to be too careful,” Cerebros said, standing in front of the set of monitors that oversaw the many rooms of Fortress Maximus. “You’re my second set of eyes for a reason.”

    “Yeah, yeah.” Cog sighed before saying, “Let me make another round.”

    Cerebros nodded to himself before returning his attention to the monitors. He understood that Cog saw himself as more of a warrior than a “mere security guard,” but he could not think of anyone he would rather have patrolling the cells. The old bot had been present on Fortress Maximus since Cerebros first became binary bonded to the Titan, though it wasn’t until after they had returned to Cybertron after the Titan Master incident that he had finally managed to interact with him. How long Cog had been on the Titan and how he had ended up in the first place was anyone’s guess, but Cerebros wasn’t too concerned with those facts.

    If anything, he was more glad to have Cog around because he was no longer confident in being as effective a warden as he had back at Garrus-9. While he understood why Rodimus Prime had entrusted him with the role after Fortress Maximus had been instated as Cybertron’s new prison facility after losing Trypticon, the encounter with the Titan Masters had left Cerebros more distracted than usual. He could not stop thinking of what those Cyberdroids had said about him having a purpose, as well as being named “Kord.” He had tried speaking with Infinitus – the one Titan Master on the Autobots’ side – about this, but the Cyberdroid had not been receptive to his questions, telling him that it was nothing he should be concerned about.

    Well, he was concerned about it. And he was going to get answers one way or another no matter what it took.

    Shaking himself back to reality, Cerebros reviewed the monitors for the nth time that cycle. Most of the inmates that had escaped from Trypticon had since been rounded up, including the components of the combiners Liokaiser and Monstructor. However, they were supposedly missing an ex-Wrecker that had gone missing after the breakout, though Cerebros doubted they were as dangerous as the combiners. Also locked up was the former leader of Mayhem Leo Prime, who was sitting dejectedly in his cell; in the cell adjacent to his was a stasis pod containing the infamous Decepticon Killmaster (apparently he had been retrieved by the Necrobot of all people, though Cerebros wasn’t sure he believed that story) as well as the deactivated, headless body of Overlord.

    Cerebros twitched involuntarily. Even the name alone brought back memories he would much rather forget. Already he could hear the screams of agony, drowned out by the roar of a chainsaw tearing through metal and circuitry. If it wasn’t that, then it was the cackling laughter of madmen overlapped with cries for mercy and--

    “Cerebros?”

    He quickly shook his head, banishing those memories back to the recesses of his mind. “What is it, Cog?”

    “I was just passing by the space bridge control room and... there’s someone standing in here--”

    “What?” Cerebros quickly brought up the camera for said room and, sure enough, saw a thin bot standing there with Cog. They had a white and black color scheme and a golden head, with armor suggesting a race car alternate form. As far as Cerebros could tell, they were not anyone he recognized.

    “--and he’s saying that he wants to speak with Rodimus.”

    “Did you get his name?” Cerebros asked.

    “Yeah, something like Prowl?”

    Cerebros was silent for a moment as he stared at the screen. The bot he was looking at looked nothing like how he remembered Prowl ever looking... but then he remembered that Prowl had also died around a year ago, from what he had heard. Whether or not this was the real Prowl, he knew it was something he would have to bring to the Prime’s attention.

    “Get an inhibitor claw and restrain him,” he finally said to Cog. “We’ll bring him to Rodimus... and if he is who he says he is, then I hope he has answers ready for the 113 questions he’s about to receive.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XI, Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

    Skids couldn’t remember the last time he had ever seen Swerve's this empty. In fact, he was pretty sure he had never seen it so deserted before. All of the chairs were turned over and placed on the table; the booths were closed up; some of the lights were off; and there was not a single spark in sight, save for Swerve himself as he wiped down the counter. Even the ever-inebriated Trailbreaker was absent; that was a sure sign that something was up.

    Carefully approaching the bar, Skids noted that Swerve was not his usual self. Rather than being upbeat and talkative, the minibot was dour and uncharacteristically quiet. Even when he noticed Skids’ approach, he didn’t utter much more than a simple “Hey” as went down the counter again with his cleaning cloth.

    Skids frowned as he pulled up a seat. He tried not to sound too concerned when he asked, “Closing time already?”

    “Closing time forever,” Swerve grunted in response.

    “Why?”

   "'Why?'" Swerve repeated the question, giving Skids a look as if he had just asked the stupidest question in the universe. “Because it’s over. The quest, the journey... it’s all over and done with. No point in staying open, is there?”

    “Still, I would have thought you’d be having a celebration party or something.”

    Swerve scoffed. “What’s there to celebrate?”

    Skids blinked in confusion. “We found Cyberutopia.”

    “Yeah, and guess what? It was a big fat disappointment. Hands-down one of the worst quests I’ve ever been on. Even the Thumb Quest was better than this; at least then I actually found my thumb!”

    Skids opened his mouth to say something, to offer something to lift his friend’s spirits, but found himself at a loss for words. Honestly, even he was having mixed feelings about everything they had discovered on “Cyberutopia” -- or Mederi, as it was actually known. To find out that after all they had gone through -- all the pain and suffering -- only to find out that the map they had been following had been dredged up by super-ill bots that had been tricked by a very convincing artificial reality... it was disheartening, to say the least. He knew that some people liked to say that the journey mattered more than the destination, but when said journey had plenty of moments that he would rather not relive, he couldn’t help but feel the desire to punch whoever had first said that in the face.

    When it became apparent that he could not think of anything of substance to say, and that Swerve was not exactly open to conversation at the moment, Skids got up from his stool and exited the bar, probably for the last time.

*  *  *

    Deep down, Star Saber had almost been hoping that Rodimus Prime would not pick up the call. He wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to explain to the Autobot leader about everything that had went down at Velocitron and Mederi, along with that they had discovered while at the latter. He wasn’t expecting Rodimus to be mad by any means, but he knew how much the quest had meant to the young Prime. For him to reveal that it had all been, for lack of a better phrase, “a waste of time,” it would surely bring down the already-beleaguered Prime’s spirits... and it would probably leave Star Saber feeling guilty as all hell.

    Eventually however, Rodimus’ face finally materialized on the viewscreen and Star Saber was forced to face the music.

    “Star Saber!” Rodimus greeted him, putting on a cheery face that may or may not have been genuine. “We were beginning to worry about you. Did you make it to Velocitron okay?”

    “It depends on your definition of ‘okay,’” Star Saber muttered. “We got to Velocitron just fine, but we encountered enemy forces which set us a bit off-course.”

    Rodimus frowned. “Was it the Worldsweepers again, like on Caminus?”

    “Correct. They gathered Velocitron’s space ore and used it to transport us to a completely different location. Said location made itself to look like the Afterspark, of all places, but it turned out to actually be the original Mederi station.” Star Saber paused, selecting his next words carefully. “What’s more… after we figured out we were on Mederi, we made another discovery. A very big discovery.”

   “What, did you find Cyberutopia or something?”

    Star Saber couldn’t help but flinch at that. “Yes. It turned out that the Knights of Cybertron had come to Mederi after contracting a deadly disease, and the station’s artificial reality settings made itself to look like their vision of a perfect Cybertron.”

    Once he was finished speaking, Star Saber braced himself as he carefully watched Rodimus’ expression. He could see traces of disappointment beginning to form on the young Prime’s face, but Rodimus for his part was quick to hide them. Adopting a neutral expression, Rodimus nodded curtly to himself.

    “Well then. I suppose that’s that. Where are you now?”

    “We’re on course back for Velocitron, to see if the Worldsweepers are still there. We were able to evacuate most of the planet’s population in time however.”

    “That’s good. If you do encounter the Worldsweepers again, alert us asap so we can send reinforcements. I don’t want you tackling them on alone.”

    “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” Star Saber hesitated for a moment as he thought carefully on what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, by the way,” he finally managed to blurt out. “About how it all ended up. I know the quest meant a lot to you.”

    “Hey, don’t guilt yourself over this,” Rodimus replied. “If anything, I should be blaming myself for hyping everything up in the first place. You did nothing wrong, Star Saber. You did good.”

    Star Saber nodded but said nothing. An awkward silence prevailed between the two before Rodimus stepped back from his end of the viewscreen and cleared his vocal processor.

    “Well, in any case, I should get going. Got important stuff to take care of. Worlds to protect and all that. Have a safe travel back to Velocitron and remember: Call if you see danger.”

    Star Saber nodded again. “Understood. Star Saber, out.”

    With that, he pressed a control and Rodimus’ image fizzled out, allowing Star Saber to see the warping blue tunnel of hyperspace as the Lost Light traveled at lightspeed. The sound of a sigh escaped his voice box as he landed back into the command chair, adopting an exhausted posture. From his right, Wing Saber stepped over to stand beside his brother and looked at Star Saber with a concerned expression.

    “You doing all right, bro?”

    “I’ve been better,” Star Saber grunted.

    “Leadership isn’t what it was cracked up to be, eh?” Wing Saber asked with a slight smirk.

    Star Saber rubbed the crest of his helm. “It’s been a hectic month, brother. For almost an entire year, we hadn’t been making any progress in our quest and saw little action. Then, within the span of a week or so – bam! Not only did we find Cyberutopia, underwhelming as it was, but now the fate of the universe is in question because of these Destructons and whoever else it is we’re dealing with now. I simply don’t know how Primes like Optimus or Rodimus handle it.”

    “With immense difficulty and plenty of failure,” Wing Saber replied. “No one ever said leadership would be easy, and no one is perfect even if people expect you to be.”

    “That’s rich coming from you,” Star Saber said wryly.

    Wing Saber chuckled. “Hey, if somebody offered me the Matrix, I’d just throw it back in their face. I may be great at what I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m great at everything.”

    “You do act like it though. Sometimes.”

    “Well, naturally. As your spark-brother, I have to do something that grates your nerve circuits.”

   Star Saber shook his head but was smiling beneath his faceplate. Straightening in his seat, he cleared his mind of any discouraging thoughts and redirected his attention to the bridge crew. Skyblast was focused on the ship’s controls and navigation system, ensuring that they didn’t accidentally get atomized in hyperspace (not that Star Saber was concerned of that happening, but after what had gone down at Velocitron, he wanted to be prepared for anything). The communications officer Big Bang, meanwhile, had a mild look of consternation on his face as he studied his monitor, a hand raised to the side of his helm.

     “Something up, Big Bang?” Star Saber asked him.

     “I just caught a trace of a distress signal,” Big Bang replied. “It’s gone now but I had it for a second...”

    “We’re coming up on Velocitron,” Skyblast announced at that moment. He pulled back the lever for the hyper-drive and brought the Lost Light out of lightspeed. The stars reformed around the ship and the orange world of Velocitron came into view; even from afar, the damage that had been wrought upon it by the Worldsweepers was apparent, with its once labyrinth-like roads now in broken ruins.

    As the ship made its slow approach towards the barren world, Big Bang spoke up again. “I’ve got it. It’s coming from sector SF-05-LQ....”

    “I see it,” said Signal Flare, sitting at the ship’s scanners. “Or them, rather.”

    “Them?” asked Wing Saber.

    “I’m detecting two spark signatures, both very faint. I think there are bots floating out there.”

    “Dispatch a MARB to retrieve them,” Star Saber ordered.

    In short succession, a mobile repair bay was launched from the Lost Light towards the position of the two damaged bots. While the remote-controlled drone worked on retrieving them, Star Saber hurried down to the hangar bay, summoning the medical team as well as a handful of “heavy-hitters” in case the bots turned out to be hostile. Just as the gathered bots assembled in the hangar, the MARB returned with the injured pair in custody. While First Aid, Velocity, and Nickel rushed over to their aid, Skids tilted his head as he gazed upon one of the damaged bots.

    “Wait a minute,” he murmured, brushing past Star Saber. “That’s Cannonspring.”

    “Someone you know?” Star Saber asked, following him over to the MARB where the non-descript gray bot lay, along with a smaller white and blue one.

    “Not just someone I know; he’s Nexus freaking Prime. Well, a part of him at least.”

    “Really?” Surprised, Star Saber looked over at the one known as Cannonspring. Making his way over to the MARB, careful not to interfere with First Aid’s work, Star Saber looked down at the gray bot who, while weak, was still in functioning order. Cannonspring moved his optics to look at the captain but did not speak, his expression almost vacant.

    “Are you all right?” Star Saber asked. “What happened? Where are the rest of your components?”

    Fear suddenly filled Cannonspring’s optics and the bot shifted uneasily. “Betrayed,” he started, hoarse static corrupting his speech. “Should have known… all a lie.”

    Skids stepped over to stand on the other side of the MARB, frowning in concern. “What are you talking about? Who betrayed you?”

    “The Prime of Lies.” Cannonspring coughed, sparks flying out of his mouth. “We were deceived.”

    “Was it Liege Maximo? Did he do this to--”

    Cannonspring suddenly let out a scream as his body spasm before just as quickly falling slack, his optics dimming. First Aid quickly brought down the MARB’s shield, closing the bot within the repair bay.

   “We’ll need to get them to a CR chamber,” the medic said urgently.

    Star Saber and Skids both stepped back to allow the three medics to secure Cannonspring and the other bot before rushing them out of the hangar bay. As the pair watched them go, Star Saber glanced over at Skids.

    “Any clue on what’s going on?”

    “I think I do,” Skids said grimly. “And you’re not going to like it...”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XI, Prologue

PROLOGUE

    Silence was something Rung was used to. It was what he preferred, most of the time; he wasn’t exactly one for parties or social gatherings or any of the sort. He imagined those sorts of things were enjoyable to those with friends or, really, anyone who remembered their existence. He didn’t have much luck in those fields, which was why he preferred to spend his free time alone with his model ships. Yes, he was grateful to have people like Skids or Ariel to keep him company at times, but he acknowledged that they had interests that didn’t involve him. And that was okay. He didn’t mind. He was used to it.

    But the silence was different this time. Unsettling, even. For the first time ever, someone had deliberately sought him out (for something other than psychological issues) and told him that he had a purpose beyond serving as a mere therapist... only to then leave him in the dark, isolating him within this cold, dark cell. He had no idea who this “Grand Architect” was or why they had such an interest in him, but he had a gnawing feeling that it wasn’t for anything good. It was only typical, he thought, that people only remembered him when he served a specific purpose for them.

    At the same time, he supposed he only had himself to blame. As long as he could remember, he had always wanted to help people; to listen to their grievances and help them solve their problems. It was what he was good at and thus it gave him purpose. Were it not for the reputation he ended up building, he was sure the Functionists would have found some reason or other to quietly “dispose” of him for not having an evident alt mode and therefore no purpose. In that event, he highly doubted anyone would have missed him. If he was of no use to anyone, what difference would it make that he was gone all of a sudden? Perhaps it was because of this reputation he had so desperately built that the Grand Architect had an interest in him rather than anyone else.

    Not only that, but apparently therapy wasn’t the only thing he was good at. If Chief Justice Tyrest was to be believed (and Rung was very hesitant to go that far), Rung had at one point been the key to the cold construction process. The photonic crystals that he produced (an ability he was not aware of until now) had once been used to store spark energy which Nova Prime had derived from the Matrix of Leadership. Rung wasn’t sure how much truth there was to this claim -- he certainly had no memory of it. But at the same time... it would go to explain the crystals he had unexpectedly thrown up into his hand, as well as provide a possible reason for why the Grand Architect wanted him. But to what end? He supposed he was going to find out sooner rather than later... for better or for worse.

    The sudden sound of approaching footsteps broke Rung from his thoughts. Lifting his head up, he saw a pair of Legislators walk up to the entrance to his cell, which was protected by a ray-shield. The two drones stood menacingly in front of his cell for a moment before stepping outside to reveal a green-plated bot with an almost regal design. Rung sighed heavily as he lowered his head back down.

    “Tyrest.”

    “You don’t seem pleased to see me,” Tyrest remarked, a smirk forming on his red face. “I thought you liked having people visit you.”

    “Not like this,” Rung bitterly replied. “You have given me no reason to believe that the reason behind your visiting are in any way noble.”

    “Why should they be? Perhaps I only came to see an old friend.”

    “Friend?” Rung arched an eyebrow. “Since when were we ever ‘friends?’”

    “Colleagues, then. We both served under Nova Prime, did we not?”

    “Many served under Nova Prime. Galvatron, Jhiaxus, Straxus... do you consider them your friends?”

    Tyrest chuckled. “No. I consider them dead.”

    Rung exhaled again as he pinched the ridge between his bespectacled optics. “What do you want?”

    Tyrest pressed a button on his staff and the ray-shield separating the two bots vanished. Motioning the two Legislators to stand guard, the former judge entered the cell and came to stand before Rung. A second press of the same button brought the ray-shield back. Tyrest loomed over the therapist for a pressing moment, yellow optics narrowed behind his red faceplate. Breaking the tense silence, he finally spoke.

    “Tell me about yourself, Rung.”

    Rung glanced up at him. “Pardon?”

    “You’ve spent so long listening to other peoples’ life stories. It’s time someone listened to yours.”

    Rung frowned. “I don’t have a story. I--”

    “Oh, you and I both know how wrong that is.” A wicked grin graced the judge’s features. “Or would you like me to call up the crew of the Fateful Archetype and ask them what they think?”

    At this, Rung felt his body involuntarily stiffen while Tyrest laughed.

    “Oh, that’s right. I don’t think that’s an option these days, is it?”

    Releasing another sigh, Rung lowered his head once more, resigning himself to this fate. “Where do you want me to start?”

    “Where anyone’s story starts: From the beginning.”

    From the beginning. “I’m not sure my mind can go back that far,” he murmured. “I remember being born from the Pious Pools, near the Vinvissius Canals. But beyond that...”

    “Yes, that is the evil of information creep; you don’t think to remember certain details until you’ve realized that you’ve forgotten them,” Tyrest lamented. “But believe it or not, it is not incurable.”

    “What are you saying?”

    “I’m saying that I can help you remember, Rung. I can help you remember everything about your past… and perhaps even more. I can help you finally find the purpose you have been longing for; the acknowledgment you have always wanted. All I need you to do for me... is to transform.”

    Rung eyed the Chief Justice carefully. “And if I don’t?”

    “Then we will find other means of making you do so,” Tyrest said. “I am offering you a chance to be an active participant in our endeavors, Rung. To be respected, remembered, and perhaps even revered.”

    He knelt down in front of the psychiatrist, coming to be at eye level with him.

    “Join us, Rung, and you will never be forgotten ever again.”

    Rung was silent for a long time as he held Tyrest’s gaze. He ran the judge’s words through his processor, analyzing them one by one as he always did with the rants and diatribes he had been exposed to by his patients. As he did this, he studied Tyrest’s face closely, searching for any hint of ill intent or dubious ulterior motives. To his surprise... he found none. For once, the former Chief Justice of Cybertron was being honest with him. Whether this was a good sign or not, he wasn’t quite sure of yet.

    In any case, he had already made up his mind. Breaking his gaze from Tyrest’s, Rung shifted his gaze back to his feet.

    “No.”

    Tyrest blinked, looking slightly surprised. “No?”

    “I am well aware of your past actions, Tyrest,” Rung said firmly. “Whatever it is you and your new master have planned, I want no part in it.”

    The judge scowled as he rose back up. “You will, even if we have to force you to.”

    “I am aware of that. Regardless, I will not be a willing participant of your schemes.”

    “So be it.” Tyrest pressed the switch on his staff again, causing the ray-shield to once again vanish. He turned on his heel and made for the exit. “We will not be speaking like this again.”

    “I know,” Rung said quietly. The ray-shield returned as Tyrest and his two Legislators marched away, leaving him once again in silent isolation.

CONVERGENCE

Part 3: The Useless One

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia X, Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

--Earth--

    "We've got them, sir. We shot down their--"

    "I can see that," Joshua Red grunted as he shoved past the other agent. He took several strides from his SUV towards the wreckage of the Axalon, which had crashed some ten miles away from the junkyard. Most of the Autobots had appeared to have survived the crash, but the presence of their two Decepticon assailants kept them from getting back up.

    As he approached the wreck, a thought crossed his mind. Looking up at one of the Decepticons -- Shatter, he believed she was called -- he asked, "Did anyone perish?"

    Shatter shook her head. "I believe everyone is accounted for."

    "Even the humans?"

    "Oh, I hadn't considered that." Shatter regarded the wreck with an uninterested look. "I highly doubt any of them survived the crash. Humans are very delicate, after all."

    "Shame. I was hoping to at least kill Fowler myself for his betrayal," Joshua said, shrugging off the matter. "How quickly can we get them to Verenya?"

    "It will take a few Transwarp trips," grunted Dropkick. "But do you really need all of them?"

    "That is a good point," Shatter said. "I don't believe you need this many to test the Talisman's capabilities. Five at most would suffice."

    "Fine," Joshua said. "Do what you will, so long as they never trouble us again."

    "We trusted you, Director."

    Joshua stopped and looked at one of the prone Autobots. With a magenta and white color scheme, she had to be the one they called Elita-One; their leader, in the absence of Optimus Prime. She was staring at Joshua with a disapproving glare.

    "We trusted you," she repeated. "Why did you turn against us? What have we done to you to deserve this?"

    Joshua sneered at the Autobot. "You brought your war to our world. Instead of returning to your planet and staying there, you kept coming back because you thought we couldn't look after ourselves."

    "We had unfinished business," Elita protested. "Like it or not, our worlds were forever intertwined from the day the Decepticons started to threaten your safety. It was our duty to bring a stop to that."

    "Oh, our worlds have been intertwined for much longer that. But I intend to end that today."

    "Listen," Elita implored him. "I understand that you care for the safety of your world; anyone can relate to that. But siding with the Decepticons is not going to solve your problems; if anything, it'll only make things worse."

    "I beg to differ; if anything, it's brought us results. By using the Talisman to turn you against the people of Verenya--"

    "What?" Elita interjected. "Those people had been mutated. They were attacking us. Are you saying you--"

    "--we have turned the whole world against you," Joshua went on. "The people of Earth now want nothing more than for you all to pay the price."

    "Oh, but the Decepticons get a free pass?" Elita retorted. "After all the damage they've done?"

    "I don't see things the way you do, Autobot. Your self-declared allegiances mean nothing to me; only the results of your actions." A nasty grin crossed the Director's face. "Believe me, what I do today will forever mark me as a hero. The history books will remember my name... but not yours."

    Satisfied with his speech, Joshua shifted his attention to the two Decepticons. "Do what you will to them. Just leave enough for--"

    The rest of his words caught in his throat as he found himself staring up the barrel of Dropkick's gun.

    "A heart-wrenching performance, Director Red," said Shatter. "Unfortunately, there won't be much truth to it."

    Joshua choked with fear as he tried to speak. "But... we had a deal!"

    "The deal was for us to procure the Talisman in exchange for getting the Autobots out of your hair. You have given us access to the Talisman and the Autobots have been dealt with. Your usefulness to us is hereby null and void."

    Joshua opened his mouth to speak just as Dropkick fired his gun. The director of Sector Seven exploded into a puddle of liquid which quickly soaked into the ground. Before the remaining operatives had a chance to react, Shatter fired upon them with her own weapon. What vehicles weren't immediately destroyed quickly decided an altercation was not worth their lives and fled from the scene.

    "Let them go," Shatter said to her comrade. "We have more important matters."

    "Wait," Dropkick said. "Are you getting a signal?"

    Shatter frowned as she raised a hand to her helm. "Yes, actually. It's coming from--"

    She and Dropkick looked up to the sky just as a large shadow fell over them. Elita and the other Autobots craned their heads as well to see a long rectangular shape blotting out the sun. Elita quickly recognized it for what it was... as did the Decepticons.

    "This isn't in our field," Dropkick muttered.

    "No," Shatter quietly agreed. "I believe this is for someone else to deal with."

    With that, the two Decepticons hastily transformed and took off, quickly vanishing over the horizon. Not long after, the massive Titan touched down in front of the wreck of the Axalon. A green and yellow figure jumped down from the bow and landed before Elita.

    "Never let it be said," Springer said with a cocky grin, "that Wreckers don't know how to make a timely arrival."

    Elita smiled as she got back to her feet. "Springer, you have no idea how glad I am to see you."

    "Save it. Let's get you guys on board before those 'Cons come back with their own surprises."

    Elita nodded before suddenly frowning, turning back to the wreck. "The humans...!"

    Without warning, the remains of the Axalon started to move... as one by one the pieces of the ship were pulled up into the air by an invisible force. Beneath the wreckage, completely unscathed, were Fowler, Jack, and the other human allies. And at the center of it all -- blue energy emitting from her body -- was Sari Sumdac, moving the Axalon's pieces with her hands. Once they were clear, she allowed the pieces to fall back down behind them while her eyes returned to their natural color.

    Upon seeing all of the shocked looks aimed at her, Sari blinked and said, "What?" She then looked around, seeing the result of her unexpected display of power. "Did... did I do that?"

    "Well," Springer said with mild amusement. "Looks like we both have a lot of news to share."

*  *  *

    "This is a game changer."

    "How so?" Shatter responded, flying alongside Dropkick across the ocean.

    "How so? They have a freaking Titan, for crying out loud! I don't care what they say this Talisman thing can do, there's no way it can--"

    "Calm yourself, comrade. While this certainly does change things, it's hardly a threat to our plans."

    "How would you know?" Dropkick growled. "Are Ratbat and Banzai-Tron letting you in on their plans?"

    "I've been told enough to know that everything will proceed as planned, Titan or no Titan," Shatter calmly replied.

    "You know I hate it when you act like this," Dropkick muttered. "All vague and secretive."

    "I know. That's why I do it."

    They eventually made their way to Verenya, where the Ultracons had recently established operations in preparation for the arrival of their benefactors. With the city having been evacuated of humans, the Ultracons were allowed to roam freely with no disturbances.

    After transforming to their robot modes and landing in the city, Shatter and Dropkick made their way down into the underground chamber in which the Talisman was being held. There they found their commanding officer Banzai-Tron speaking with a large purple and green bot with scorpion-like features. Dropkick stiffened, prompting Shatter to rest a hand on his shoulder.

    "Don't say a word," she whispered.

    "What is that traitor--"

    "Silence." Removing her hand, Shatter proceeded to step over to the two Decepticons. She stood straight with her arms behind her back, awaiting acknowledgment.

    Taking notice of her, Scorponok said wryly to his acquaintance, "You have a visitor."

    Banzai-Tron sighed as he glanced at Shatter. "What is it?"

    "The remaining Autobots are still active," Shatter reported. "We were forced to flee when they brought in a Titan for assistance."

    "Of course. And Sector Seven?"

    "Director Red has been eliminated, as promised."

    "Good. At least something good came out of this." Banzai-Tron returned his attention to Scorponok. "What were you going to say?"

    "I was going to say that something must be done about the Titan Masters," Scorponok replied.

    "And what do you expect us to do about it?" Banzai-Tron retorted. "From what I've heard, you were the one who initially brought them into the fold."

    "Yes, and I fully intend on fixing my mistake... but I require additional aid."

    Banzai-Tron glared at him. "What kind of aid?"

    "Your favorite kind: cyber warfare."

    At this, even Shatter raised an optic ridge while Banzai-Tron rubbed his chin. "Go on."

    "They have a part of the Underbase. We have the Magnificence. Both are bottomless wells of knowledge." Scorponok grinned savagely. "What say we use that knowledge against them?"

TO BE CONTINUED

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia X, Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

--Mars--

    "If this is how you treat your guests, I'd hate to see how you treat unwanted solicitors."

    Sandstorm wasn't expecting any kind of answer from the shadowed figure, so he wasn't disappointed when all he got was silence. Megaplex and Megastorm stood to either side of him while Archforce adjusted the constraints keeping him bolted to the operating table. Once he was done, the purple clone stepped over to the silhouetted figure.

    "Everything is ready, Mother. Shall we begin--"

    "Quiet," came the sharp response. "We have other visitors."

    "Yeah, those'd be my guys," Sandstorm said. "I can't think of anyone else who'd want to rescue me."

    Archforce turned to glare at the other two clones. "You told me they died in the crash."

    "I said they must have!" Megaplex protested. "I don't see how they could've. That's why we used the Transwarp device to--"

    "Enough," said Mother, causing Megaplex to immediately shut up. "The damage is already done. They have already found their way in."

    "Allow us to correct our mistake, Mother," pleaded Megastorm. "We shall deal with the intruders."

    "If you think you can fall back into my good graces, then do as you see fit." Mother was nonchalant in her response, as if she was more interested in something other than what was happening. "Archforce, would you be so kind as to join them?"

    Archforce moved with a start. "Come again?"

    "If only to ensure that they are properly dealt with."

    "But... surely you would prefer me here?"

    "Oh, I'll be fine, dear. Our guest won't be going anywhere."

    Archforce looked doubtful, and the other two clones seemed disgruntled with this addendum. Nonetheless, the three complied with their superior's wishes and Sandstorm was soon left alone with the mysterious individual who called herself "Mother." He saw a figure move in the shadows but still could not make out any physical details.

    "Children can be so frustrating sometimes."

    "I wouldn't know," Sandstorm grunted. "Guess I'll have to take your word for it."

    There was silence for a moment before Mother spoke again. "Do you know who I am?"

    "Deductive reasoning leads me to think you're 'Mother.'"

    "Yes, but I don't think that name has much meaning to you. What about Hydra? Does that name ring any bells?"

    Sandstorm glared at his infuriatingly vague host. "Is there a point you're trying to make?"

    "I'll take that as a 'no,'" Mother replied. "Just as well. She hasn't been very responsive lately."

    Sandstorm frowned in confusion only to let out a startled yell as a light switched on above him, illuminating the form of a lifeless mechanoid dangling from the ceiling on a harness of cables.

    "The poor dear," continued Mother, whom Sandstorm could now see in better detail. She had a blocky build for a femme, with red and black armor plating. "She simply couldn't stand to continue an operation that had lost its way long before she realized it. To watch everything you had built come undone... it would shatter even the strongest of sparks."

    "Who the Pit are you?" Sandstorm asked, his voice no louder than a whisper.

    "My name is Plasma. I am the caretaker of this vicinity."

    "And those clones call you 'Mother?'"

    Plasma smiled thinly. "Only because they don't know better. They aren't aware of poor Hydra up there, dangling like a forgotten ornament. They think I'm her."

    "And you haven't tried to tell them otherwise?"

    Plasma shrugged. "Why should I? They listen to me. They look up to me. I've never had that before. It's a nice change of pace."

    Sandstorm realized that talking to this bot would only raise more questions than answers. Still, he pressed on. "So what's your game here? Continuing where someone else left off?"

    "In a sense," Plasma said quietly. "I've never really had much of a role in Hydra's little Secret Order; I was brought on by an old acquaintance of mine who required use of the Titan I was steward of. From that point onward, I was merely an observer, never an active participant. Before long, Hydra's operation failed and this..." Her gesture encapsulated the entire room. "...is all that's left.

    "But I'm not continuing what Hydra herself had begun. Why would I continue something that had failed? No, what I'm doing is nothing of the sort. Archforce and the clones... they are but mere assets that I was able to obtain the use of."

    Sandstorm scowled. "Then what are you doing? Or have you reached the limit of your exposition drop?"

    Plasma smiled, not unkindly. "You know of the Primes, yes? The first Thirteen?"

    Sandstorm's expression darkened. "I'm... familiar with them."

    "As am I. Long ago, in a time before any of you were forged, I was subservient to them as were most of my kind. We helped them expand their empires and build their colonies. Without us, they would not have been half as great as the legends make them out to be."

    "Hate to wound your ego, but I don't think folks think highly of the Thirteen these days...."

    "I am aware," Plasma replied. "As are many of my brothers and sisters. Which is why we're here."

    Sandstorm raised an optic ridge. "What for?"

    "To expose the Primes for what they truly were: a corrupt dynasty of tyrants and despots. To dismantle their legacy. To finally usher an age of peace that Cybertron has never known. And it never will, so long as this Rodimus Prime remains in command."

    "Ah, there it is." Sandstorm rolled his optics. "I was starting to think -- even hope -- that you were an evil mastermind who didn't hate Autobots. But you just proved me wrong."

    Plasma smiled again at him. It was starting to make him uncomfortable. "And you just proved to me that your mind is not worth replicating in the cloning process, which saves me a lot of effort."

    "Wait, cloning process?!" Sandstorm thrashed against his restraints. "What are you--"

    There was a loud crash outside the room, followed by the sound of gunfire. Plasma did not seem to be bothered by this even when what sounded like a door fell down with a metal clang, allowing light to pour into the room.

    "Hands where I can see them," growled Impactor as he and the other Wreckers barged in. Megastorm and Megaplex laid offline on the floor while Impactor had Archforce in a choke-hold, harpoon pointed at his head.

    "Do you really think I'm threatened by you?" Plasma asked calmly.

    "You should be, if you have any idea who we are."

    "You are the Wreckers, I take it. I have heard of you, but have never witnessed you in action before."

    "Tell us where Toxitron is and you won't have to," said Punch.

    Plasma tilted her head. "You mean Battle Convoy? That was his name, I believe, before we remade him. I would've thought you'd have made the effort to restore him by now."

    "Answer the blasted question and then you can lecture us," Impactor snarled, moving his harpoon closer to Archforce's head. "Or else you can say goodbye to your precious children."

    "How heartless of you," Plasma stated with severe distaste in her tone. "Though I suppose I should expect nothing less from someone like you, Impactor."

    Impactor glared at her. "How do you know anything about me?"

    "She knows everything I've told her about you, old friend."

    Impactor's body stiffened. The reply had not come from Plasma or anyone else in the room, but it was definitely a voice that he and most everyone else recognized. Sandstorm didn't even need to crane his head to see that Impactor and Punch shared his flabbergasted expression.

    "Prowl?" the Wrecker leader murmured in shock.

    "Put down the clone," Prowl ordered, his voice seeming to come from all around the room. "All of you need to listen very closely to what I have to say if you want to save the universe."

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia X, Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

--The Junkyard--

    Cade Yeager braced himself in front of his office-trailer as the convoy of black vehicles rolled along the Junkyard's only path in a single file. The lead SUV came to a halt no more than five feet from where Cade stood while the other vehicles formed a half-circle around, effectively blocking the path.

    From the SUV emerged a blond man with a strong jaw and shades. Slamming the car door behind him, he briskly strode up to Cade and showed no respect for personal space as he stood face-to-face with the junkyard owner.

    "Nice place you got here," the man said, snapping his gum loudly.

    Cade eyed him warily, keeping his arms folded over his chest. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

    "You can point us to where the alien fugitives are hiding."

    "Sorry?"

    "Don't play dumb with us," the man snarled. "We know you know where they are. Tell us where we can find them and--"

    "Is this a joke?" Cade interjected. "This some Men in Black sequel I wasn't told about? Yknow, you need a permit to film on these lands."

    The man flashed him a government badge. "Joshua Red, director of Sector Seven. We have been working with those who call themselves Autobots for the last three years up until now. I don't know how often you watch the news, but a little incident went down in Verenya that's got the whole world concerned."

    "I've heard, but I've got nothin' to do with it. Just a simple man trying to make a living."

    "We'll see about that." Joshua flicked a hand to his agents. "Search the area," he ordered. "They're sure to be hiding somewhere around here."

    "'Fraid you won't find much besides garbage," Cade said casually. "I really wish I could help y'all, man, but I think you're--"

    "Sir, I'm getting a reading!" called one of the agents.

    Joshua arched an eyebrow at Cade, his lips tightening into a mirthless smile. "You were saying?"

    Suddenly, the same agent let out a cry as a car chassis was thrown up into the air somewhere in the junk field, landing on and crushing Joshua Red's SUV. As the S7 Director turned around, several large metal figures emerged from amid the junkyard, brandishing axes and swords as well as wicked grins.

    "Like I said," Cade murmured, stepping back. "You won't find much besides garbage."

    One of the giant robots, who seemed to have something resembling a mustache on his face, began making his way towards the S7 vehicles, not seeming to care that their guns were pointed at him.

    "Good evening, everyone! And welcome to--"

    "Shoot him!" Joshua barked.

    At once, the buggies began to unload on the Junkion. Wreck-Gar barely flinched as he swung his ax, impaling one buggy on its end, and swung it back around to hammer a second buggy into the ground. Startled, some of the remaining buggies started to move only to be attacked from behind by the other Junkions.

    "Boy," Wreck-Gar said as he pulled his ax out of the first buggy. "Tough crowd."

    Joshua glared at the attacking machines before raising a hand. "Hold your fire!"

    Everything went still as the S7 vehicles ceased their fire. Scowling, Joshua looked Wreck-Gar up and down before turning to another one of his agents.

    "These aren't the Autobots," he snarled. "These are... I don't know what they are but they aren't who we're after!"

    "I can tell you boys exactly what they are," Cade calmly spoke up from behind him.

    Joshua spun around to face him with a nasty sneer. "What?"

    Cade smiled thinly. "A distraction."

    The Director's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets as the sound of a ship's engine rumbled in the distance.

*  *  *

    "This hasta' be the maximum weight limit--"

    "Shut up, Rattrap," Primal Major grunted. He stood behind the rodent Maximal as the latter piloted the Axalon away from the Junkyard, with Elita-One, Jetfire, and any other flight-capable Autobot or Maximal flying beside them. Even without them on board, it was a miracle the Axalon could still fly at all with everyone else present.

    "Set a course for Jazz's team's last known position," he went on. "If they're still there, then maybe we can pick them up and--"

    "And what?" sniped Fowler. "We have nowhere left to run!"

    Cheetor craned his head from where he sat. "Uh, boss-bot...?"

    "Are they pursuing us?" Primal asked.

    "Someone sure is."

    As if on cue, the Axalon shuddered as it was fired upon. Primal looked over to Cheetor's monitor to see a visual of a red fighter jet chasing them. No sooner had the jet fired on them that Elita and Jetfire were on its tail, providing cover for the ship.

    "Rattrap, put all the juice you can into the engines!" Primal ordered. "Rhinox, see if you can--"

    He was cut off by a loud thump from above. Something had landed on top of the ship. Before Primal could say anything, sparks spewed from the ceiling as a bladed object tried to cut through. Brandishing his twin blades, Primal glanced over at Fowler and the other humans.

    "Can someone take them somewhere safe?"

    "Like, what, the airlock?" Fistfight asked snidely.

    "Or the cargo hold. Anywhere that isn't here."

    "We've got 'em." Bumblebee and Stakeout came forward and scooped up their companions in their arms, with some protests from Fowler.

    "Good," Primal said. "Now get them out of here before--"

    Suddenly, the sparks stopped as did the sound of cutting. There was a brief moment of silence before whoever was outside started kicking their way through the hull of the ship. Bumblebee and Stakeout had already rushed to the cargo hold by the time the ceiling finally split open and a blue-armored Decepticon jumped in.

    Wasting no time, Arcee brandished a pair of energy-swords and lunged at the intruder. The Decepticon raised a set of rotor-blades and blocked her attack before delivering a kick to her abdomen. As Arcee staggered back, Strongarm charged forward and rammed herself into the bot, sending him stumbling back. Taking advantage of his disorientation, Rhinox grabbed the Decepticon from behind and threw him to the ground. He then deployed one of his chain-guns and pointed it at the intruder's face.

    "Did you honestly think you'd have a chance against all of us?" Rhinox asked calmly.

    The Decepticon glared at him. "You're a fool if you think you've won."

    "What's that supposed to mean?" asked Strongarm. "We just kicked your aft."

    "Yes. Because I let you."

    Frowning, Primal looked back to Cheetor's screen. Dread filled his spark as he saw that the red jet was still behind them, with neither Elita or Jetfire to be seen. The fighter fired a rocket at the Axalon's engines and, before Primal knew it, they were plummeting towards the ground...