Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

Gigantion, two years ago

Chief Justice Tyrest collapsed onto the ground, energon bleeding from his abdomen. He clamped a hand over the open wound but it did little good; he could still feel all of his energy slipping away from him by the nanosecond.

He had to admit, he had not expected Star Saber to turn against him so soon. He knew that the naive bot would have caught on to his deception eventually, but not until well after the Chaos Bringer had been freed from his prison and brought the Cybertronian race to heel. By that point, it would have been suicidal for Star Saber to rebel, and if he did the Heralds would have made short work of him.

Still, Tyrest supposed to didn’t matter much now. Unicron was free and it was all thanks to him. He had fulfilled his role as Chief Justice by bringing about the ultimate judge of Cybertron and the Cybertronian race. Justice had, at last, been served.

Falling onto his back, he stared up at the sky and marveled at the faraway shape of Unicron. Pride filled his spark even as it started to fail him. Already, he could feel death coming to claim him….

Suddenly, a bright light lit up in the sky, blinding him with its blue glow. As Tyrest tried to adjust his optical sensors in response, a voice spoke out to him, seeming to come from all directions at once.

“Chief Justice Tyrest,” it said. “You appear to be… indisposed.”

Tyrest groaned as he struggled to speak. “Who… are you?”

“I am the Grand Architect,” the voice said. “And you belong to me, now.”

Before Tyrest knew it, he was being lifted up from the ground, slowly pulled closer towards the blue light. Unable to move, Tyrest could only brace himself for the worse as the light began to engulf him.

His ascension was abruptly ended as his back collided back onto a solid surface. Nondescript silver walls surrounded him as a wide array of tools and appendages sprung out from the floor beneath him. At first he thought they were going to attack him only for them to begin repairing his abdominal wound.

“I would like to congratulate you on your accomplishment,” the voice spoke again.

“My accomplishment?” Tyrest repeated.

“Yes, freeing Unicron from his prison. I had never imagined such a feat could be possible.”

“It wasn’t all me,” Tyrest grunted. “I simply activated the Nega-Core that the Heralds assigned to me.”

“Even so, the fact that the Heralds have been this successful is impressive, to say the least. If I may ask, do you know what the endgame of all this will be?”

“Galvatron tells me that Unicron will merge himself with Cybertron.”

The voice was quiet for a moment. “Interesting. Do you know for what purpose?”

Tyrest shook his head. “I am not privy to all of the details, seeing as I am not an official Herald. However, I am aware of the idea that Unicron and Primus — whom many profess Cybertron to be the body of — were once a single entity.”

“Ah, yes. The One — or Daiakuron, as he is known in the old tongue. Do you believe in such legends?”

“I believe in the Guiding Hand — moreso now than I’ve ever been in my life — but I must confess that I am not familiar with many of the other stories.”

“Understandable,” said the voice. “It seems as if the Guiding Hand have become the most prominent out of all of the origin stories the Cybertronian race has come to known.”

Tyrest narrowed his optics, unsure on what to focus his skeptical gaze on as he still could not see the source of the voice. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why did you save me?”

“I’ve already introduced myself,” the voice said. “I am the Grand Architect.”

“I would like to have a proper introduction. May I see your face?”

“I’m afraid I cannot present myself to you physically. I am otherwise preoccupied with other matters,” the Grand Architect replied. “As for your other question, I saved you because I believe you are of worth.”

Tyrest frowned in confusion. “Pardon?”

“I hate to tell you this, but the Heralds of Unicron are not going to keep you around to see their plans brought to fruition. You were merely an agent of their’s who was useful in bringing about their master’s return. Now that you have fulfilled that duty, they will cast you aside and — if you’re lucky — forget that you even exist.

“But you deserve so much more than that, Tyrest. Having accomplished so much in your many years of life — as both chief engineer and Chief Justice — you deserve proper recognition for your success.”

“What are you proposing?”

“I want you to join me, Tyrest,” the Grand Architect said. “We could accomplish so much together; things that would benefit the Cybertronian race for the long run.”

“And we wouldn’t be conflicting with the Heralds of Unicron and their plans?” Tyrest asked.

“Oh, no.” The Grand Architect chuckled. “If anything, I believe we would be complementing the Heralds very well.”

Tyrest did not take long to consider his decision. By that point, his chest had already been fully repaired and he was able to sit upright with minimal difficulty.

“I’m in.”

Present day

“Sir? Did you hear me?”

Tyrest blinked as he came back to the present. He was standing on the bridge of his Worldsweeper, surrounded by his crew of Lunarians. Flame was looking back at him from the front of the ship, a look of concern and confusion on his face.

“Sir?”

“I’m sorry, Flame,” Tyrest replied. “I seem to have spaced out for a moment. What is it?”

“I was saying that transfer of the Ore-4 had been successfully initiated,” Flame said, still eying Tyrest warily.

“Ah. Good. That’s good to hear.”

Tyrest directed his gaze to the viewport of his vessel. Outside were the five replicas of Cybertron that made up what the Grand Architect called “the God Gun.” Each planet was to receive a mixture of all the Regenesis ores — save for Ore-13, which was to come into play later from what he understood. Once each planet was fully “charged,” they would combine their energies to begin “drilling” a hole through the fabric of space and time, all to repel the Beast that the Grand Architect had forewarned to his followers since the day they had joined him.

No one knew who or what the Beast was, of course. Some believed it was a figure of legend, as it was a commonly held belief of certain religious groups that Cybertron would one day be used as a weapon against an ancient deity of evil. Of course, several threats had since come to Cybertron — including Unicron himself — and nothing had come of the legends. Tyrest had tried asking the Grand Architect himself, but all of the answers he had received had been as vague and cryptic as the individual they came from.

It was moments like these that made Tyrest come close to questioning his allegiance. If the Grand Architect did not trust him or the others enough to explain the full extent of his plans and goals, how could any of them trust his word of what was to come? How could any of them know that what any of them were doing was right or that they would be rewarded for their efforts in the end?

Tyrest had come close to voicing these concerns more than once but had always held back, both because he feared the Grand Architect as well as those who were loyal to him, such as Amalgamous Prime. The Lunarians that crewed the Worldsweepers were especially loyal to the Architect, and would turn against Tyrest without a second thought if it were to come to that. For that reason, he stayed silent lest he incur the wrath of someone he did not want to anger. Instead, he would wait things out and pray that he and the others would all benefit in the long run from all of this.

“Transfer of Ore-4 has been successfully completed.” Flame’s voice once again broke Tyrest out of his reverie. “Beginning transfer of Ore-5.”

Tyrest nodded in silence, continuing to stare solemnly at the pristine copies of Cybertron before him.

*  *  *

Light flooded into the chamber that held the imprisoned Vector Prime. The ancient robot readjusted his optical sensors to the unexpected illumination just as a dark figure entered his line of vision.

“Rise and shine,” an all-too-familiar voice said.

Vector Prime frowned to himself. He had lost track of the time that had passed since his capture, since Amalgamous Prime last visited him. He had spent most of that time trying to devise a way to escape, but it seemed as if his captors had taken extra care to make sure he was unable to use any of his powers, whether through Rhisling — which he was no longer in possession of — or other means.

Stepping into the chamber, Amalgamous looked upon his fellow Prime with a wicked grin. He was no longer in a form that replicated Vector’s design but instead one that had a more haphazard appearance, with lanky limbs and a hunched-over torso. His optics gleamed as they went up and down Vector’s body, which was being suspended from the ceiling by chains.

“Sorry to leave you hanging,” the shape-shifting Prime said.

Vector glared at him. “If there is a point to this visit, get to it before I shut off my processor to block out your presence.”

“Rude. Maybe I won’t let you down after all.”

Vector looked at Amalgamous in confusion just as the latter drew a scythe. With a single swing, Amalgamous severed the chains that held his fellow Prime and Vector fell face-first to the floor. Amalgamous extended a hand to help him up but Vector refused it, getting to his feet on his own accord.

“What is the meaning of this?” Vector Prime asked as he dusted himself off.

“We have arrived at our destination,” Amalgamous Prime replied, as if Vector knew what said destination even was. “Some old friends of ours are waiting for us.”

Vector raised an optic ridge. “What old friends?”

Amalgamous grinned, a sight which grated Vector’s nerves. “You know how you said you had not heard from Liege Maximo and the others for some time?”

Dread began to fill Vector’s spark. “Yes….”

“Well, I have. Our old comrade Liege Maximo is waiting for us.” Amalgamous placed a hand on Vector’s shoulder as he leaned in with a leery grin. “And trust me, he is very much looking forward to seeing you.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Cybertron

“He’s still not talking?”

Checkpoint shook his head, staring at the restrained Wipe-Out through the large window separating them. “We’ve tried everything with him. From gentle prodding to aggressive interrogation… we even brought in Stungun to scare him a little. So far, all we’ve gotten out of him is an oil leak.”

Star Saber grimaced as he observed the nervous and jittery Decepticon. As far as he was concerned, Wipe-Out was the only hope anyone had in getting to the Grand Architect and rescuing Rung. As Wipe-Out had been the one who gave Rung’s location away to the Grand Architect, he must have had some form of direct contact with the elusive figure. However, the Decepticon had claimed that he had deleted any contact information he had with the Grand Architect; a claim that Star Saber had strong doubts about.

“He must know something,” he murmured. “Is there anyway we can extract the information from his processor?”

Checkpoint glanced up at him, an optic ridge raised. “You mean through mnemosurgery?”

“Do we have any mnemosurgeons available?”

“Only one I know of is Chromedome, and he’s given up that practice from what I’ve heard. I doubt we could convince him to do it.”

“I know that Chromedome was crewmates with Rung when Rodimus captained the Lost Light,” Star Saber said. “If we told him what was at stake, he might consider it.”

Checkpoint shrugged. “You’re free to give it a shot. I wouldn’t count on it though.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

Checkpoint sighed, not bothering to hide his exasperation. “Last I checked, he and his spark-mate Rewind are living here in Iacon. I can give you exact directions once I check the register.”

“Thank you. It may be our only hope in getting to this Grand Architect.”

Star Saber turned and was about to leave when Checkpoint spoke up again.

“Has a decision been made on how we’re going to deal with the Decepticons?”

Star Saber stopped to look at him. “Elita is still discussing it with the Council,” he replied. “I’m not aware of any decisions that have been made, if any.”

“Right,” Checkpoint grunted. “’Cos, you know, Megatron being back is kind of a big deal. Much bigger than rescuing this friend of yours.”

Star Saber narrowed his optics at the officer. “Rung is more important than you realize. The Grand Architect obviously wants him for a reason and, based on all of our encounters with those who serve him, it clearly can’t be anything good.”

“If you say so,” Checkpoint muttered. “I still think Megatron’s return is a more pressing and far more evident matter of concern.”

“You’re right, it is. That’s why all of our resources are being split in order to address all of the many, many issues at hand.”

“Still seems like a slipshod way of doing things. If Optimus was still leader, we would be a lot more focused.”

Star Saber frowned beneath his mouthplate. “I’ve heard that Optimus — or Orion Pax has agreed to help us.”

“Yeah, but is he leading us? We’re going to need one until or if we get Rodimus back.”

“Elita and I are sharing command, along with the rest of the Council. It may not be the best solution, but—”

“You’ve got that right.” Turning sharply on his heel, Checkpoint began to head out of the room. “Give me five minutes and I’ll get you Chromedome’s location. Then you can continue this futile detour of yours.”

“It’s not futile when it’s another Autobot’s life on the line,” Star Saber retorted.

“All of our lives on the line,” Checkpoint shot back. “It’s not just the life of one. Even if you do manage to save Rang, or whatever his name is, how many Autobots will have fallen to Megatron by then? As someone who’s supposed to be leading us, that’s something you should be taking into consideration.”

Star Saber opened his mouth to argue further only for Checkpoint to turn his back to him.

“If you ask me, your time is better spent elsewhere,” the officer muttered as he walked away. “Of course, no one ever asks me….”

Star Saber found himself at a loss for words as Checkpoint departed from the room, leaving him alone with the silent Wipe-Out.

*  *  *

“I’ve gotta admit, I am feeling slightly agitated about this whole thing.”

“Don’t worry, Cosmos, this isn’t an interrogation,” Nightbeat said as he motioned the green-and-yellow Autobot to sit down at a small table in just-as-small room. “We just want to have a quick talk with you.”

“I’m still getting major interrogation vibes here.” Cosmos glanced nervously between Nightbeat and Skids, the latter who was standing with his back against the door. “Like, could you guys try to be just a little bit less intimidating?”

Skids sighed. “We just want some answers, Cosmos. You were the one who first encountered the Destructons in the Muta-Gaath Nebula, when they captured Omega Supreme.”

“Yes, and I filed my report as soon as I got back to Cybertron!” Cosmos replied. “Can’t you just bring it up and read it for yourselves instead of… doing this?”

“We want to hear from your first-hand,” Nightbeat said, taking a seat across from him. “When you found Omega Supreme, what state was he in?”

Cosmos slumped against his seat. “He looked as if he had been dragged through hell and back. I don’t know who did it to him or why. It was probably the Destructons, but—”

“Were the Destructons there when you found him?”

“No. I didn’t see them until a few hours after I called for help.”

“Did you hear them say anything?”

Cosmos spared a moment to think. “They were talking about using a Transwarp device, which they used to take Omega Supreme away. I… I don’t remember hearing anything else before they attacked me.”

“What about Omega?” asked Skids. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He was repeating some kind of mantra when I found him. ‘Prepare, confront, repel,’ I believe it was. Then he told me to get the hell out of there, which… looking back, I probably should have.”

“Is that all?” Nightbeat asked.

Cosmos nodded. “That was when the Destructons found me, and then you guys showed up. Can’t give you anything more than that.”

“Well, that doesn’t really help us much,” Skids muttered. “We still don’t know what the Destructons wanted with Omega Supreme or where he even is now.”

Nightbeat rubbed his chin. “Clearly, this calls for a much deeper investigation.”

Skids gave him a look. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We have to retrace our steps and go back to where this whole mess started in the first place: the Muta-Gaath Nebula.”

Skids frowned at him. “And what exactly do you expect we will find there?”

“Anything! Answers, clues, you name it! We would have a better chance finding them there then we would peddling around here on Cybertron.”

“In any case, you would have to clear it with Star Saber or Elita. The Muta-Gaath is dangerous territory to begin with and to go someplace that the Destructons have already been is pushing it into suicidal levels.”

Nightbeat smirked at him. “And teleporting yourself onto Tyrest’s ship isn’t?”

Skids looked as if he was about to retort but couldn’t come up with a strong enough response. Instead, he let out a huff as he returned his gaze to Cosmos. “You’ve still got directions to the Muta-Gaath, don’t you?”

“I….” Cosmos hesitated for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Hold on to them. We just might need them sooner than you think.”

*  *  *

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Rewind,” Star Saber said, standing just outside Chromedome and Rewind’s living quarters. “I was asking—”

“No.” Rewind shook his head, arms crossed defiantly over his chest. “I will say it a hundred times if I have to. I’ve got plenty of time.”

Star Saber frowned as he glanced between Rewind and Chromedome, who was rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Help me out here,” Star Saber said to the latter.

“I don’t practice mnemosurgery anymore,” Chromedome replied. “I physically can’t. If I do, the process would instantly kill me. The reason you don’t see many mnemosurgeons around is because of how high the mortality rate is among practitioners.”

“That is unfortunate. So there is no way you can help?”

Chromedome shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Look, we’ve heard about everything involving Rung,” Rewind said. “Believe me, we are just as worried as everyone else; he was with us for many of our adventures on the Lost Light. But I don’t think Chromedome would be of any help by doing what you want him to do.”

Star Saber nodded solemnly. “I understand. I don’t suppose you know of any other mnemosurgeons who can help?”

While Rewind shook his head, Chromedome tapped the chin of his mouthplate. “Actually… I might know someone.”

Rewind looked up at him in surprise. “For real?”

“When the others and I were abducted by the Titan Masters, I got the sense that the Cyberdroid controlling my body knew something about mnemosurgery. It felt like someone was swimming through my mind, digging up old memories.”

Star Saber looked at him intently. “Do you happen to know the name of this Titan Master?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I believe his name was Stylor.”

“Stylor.” Star Saber repeated the name, committing it to memory. “Well, I’m glad you remember that because it just so happens that we’ve made friends with some of the Titan Masters. Hopefully Stylor is still with them and will be willing to help.”

“Good luck with that,” Rewind said as he and Chromedome headed back inside.

“Yeah, and try not to do anything too shady,” Chromedome advised. “Trust me, it’s very easy to fall down that path.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Once the pair had closed their door, Star Saber turned and was about to transform when he noticed a pair of blue cars speeding up to him. Recognizing them as Nightbeat and Skids, Star Saber stayed put as the two Crusadercons transformed and walked up him.

“Captain,” Nightbeat started, “we need to return to the Muta-Gaath.”

Star Saber eyed the detective carefully. “Come again?”

“Nightbeat thinks we would be able to find some clues regarding the Destructons and their plans there,” Skids explained.

“It is where we first encountered them, after all,” Nightbeat elaborated. “Not to mention the fact that they captured Omega Supreme there, and we still don’t know what they have planned for him.”

Star Saber folded his arms over his chest. “And what makes you think we would find anything there?”

“Call it a hunch. A very good hunch, at that.” Nightbeat grinned as he spread his arms wide. “Have my hunches ever steered you wrong?”

“Well, there was that time at Aeglus Four—”

“That doesn’t count,” Nightbeat hastily said. “That was just an adventure caused by a mistranslation.”

Skids cleared his vocal processor. “So, what’s it going to be? Each minute we spend debating is another minute Rung or Omega Supreme potentially loses. Cosmos says he’s got the coordinates, so we just need the ship.”

Star Saber sighed as he stared at Nightbeat. “You are absolutely sure about this ‘hunch’ of yours?”

“Captain,” Nightbeat said firmly, “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

“I’m pretty certain you’ve said that more than once to me,” Star Saber muttered. “But, in any case… give me some time to talk to Elita, as well as to call up some bots. Meet me back at the Lost Light in two mega-cycles.”

“Yes!” While Nightbeat pumped his fist triumphantly, Skids gave Star Saber a surprised look.

“Wow. Just like that? To be honest, I was expecting a bit more resistance to the idea.”

“Believe me, a large part of me wants to shoot down your idea,” Star Saber replied. “However, I’m as desperate as you are at this point. We are going to save Rung and put a stop to the Destructons once and for all.”

“Sounds good,” Skids said. “But what if Elita says no?”

“Last time I checked, she isn’t Prime. Besides, she’s already given me the approval to focus on rescuing Rung. Hopefully, this endeavor will lead us towards fulfilling that goal.”

“If that’s the case,” Skids said, glancing pointedly at Nightbeat, “this hunch of yours better not steer us wrong.”

The detective grinned at him. “Skids, my old friend, I’m right there with you.”

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XIII, Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Earth

Sari rang the doorbell to her own home for what had to have been the hundredth time. With ever passing minute of no answer, the more her anxiety began to increase. The fact that she was still exhausted from having flown all the way from Europe on thrusters built into her own body did not help matters, nor did the recent revelation that she was, in fact, some kind of human-Transformer. She still couldn’t believe such a thing now existed, and that she was the prime example of one.

After ringing the doorbell another seven or eight times, she finally convinced herself that her father was simply not at home. Where he could be, she had no idea; all she could think of now was to find a way to break into her own house without setting off any alarms. Isaac Sumdac was ten steps ahead of everyone in Detroit and had installed the best of the best in terms of security tech. She would have to somehow outsmart her own father if she had any hope of getting inside.

Stepping away from the door, she looked down at the mat placed in front of it. While she knew her dad would have done something far more complicated than to hide a key into the mat, she had to make sure she had checked every possible spot for some secret way inside before having to resort to brute force.

Bending down, she pulled off the doormat… and found a key laying right there.

Sari quietly sighed. Perhaps she had overestimated her father.

She picked up the key and unlocked her way into the house. Inside, everything was eerily still and quiet. Dust coated the furniture while paper and supplies littered the floor. For whatever reason, the maid-bots her father had made for the explicit purpose of taking care of his home while he was gone (or even while he was there) had failed to fulfill their programming. In fact, all of the weird robots she remembered living with while growing up — including her Tutor-Bot and pet “dog-bot” Sparkplug — were laying deactivated in different spots of the house, as if they had just ran out of fuel and were never recharged.

She knew her dad loved to go on vacations when he could and spent many hours at his offices… but how long had it been since he had lived here? She remembered the last time she had seen him in this house was right before she moved to California, which would have been a year ago. Had he just abandoned this house since then, not wishing to live here without her?

Knowing she wouldn’t get any answers by just standing around, Sari headed for the only place she could think of to find those answers: her father’s office. After carefully navigating her way through the maze of boxes and office supplies that dominated the office, she made her way to her dad’s computer and booted it up. Naturally, it prompted her for a password. Her mind was too unfocused for her to think of any likely passwords and she instead turned to rummaging through the desk. A vast majority of them were patents and paperwork associated with Sumdac Systems and its subsidiaries; nothing that would have been of interest to her.

As she tossed a stapled stack of boring paperwork to the side, a small sticky note flew out of it and landed on her feet. Picking it up, she began to read the string of numbers written upon the blue piece of paper.

12577. Use only for Project: Cadmus.

Sari had no idea what “Project: Cadmus” was or meant (though she quickly recognized that it was her family’s name spelled backwards), but she figured the number was good as any for a potential password. Returning to the computer, she inputted the digits before striking the enter key. To her surprise and relief, it went through and she was presented with her father’s desktop.

To her surprise and shock, it was nothing she expected from an ordinary desktop.

The background was all black and covered from corner to corner with folders and files, all with indecipherable names. How anyone could work with and find their way through such a setup, she had no idea, though obviously her father had found some way to manage with it. Not knowing where to begin, she randomly double-clicked on a folder only to be presented with even more files and folders. Clearly, Isaac Sumdac had done everything in his power to keep his secret projects secret.

Abandoning this endeavor, realizing it would be fruitless, she threw herself into her dad’s old, squeaky office chair and pulled out her phone. It had somehow survived everything she had gone through unscathed; simultaneously miraculous was the fact that it still had enough battery juice in it left to make a call. Without hesitation, she accessed her contacts and called the first name (after her father’s) on the list, silently praying that they were still alive.

*  *  *

“Darby, I would like to see you after class.”

Jack could barely hear the professor’s voice over the ringing of the bell and the ringing in his own head. So much had happened between now and the last time he had sat in this classroom that it was surreal that he was even back here to begin with. He was honestly surprised he hadn’t been dropped for having missed so many days of attendance, though Professor Colan’s mind was as much an enigma as everything surrounding the events of the past few weeks.

As the rest of the class filed out of the room, Professor Colan leaned against his desk, keeping his bespectacled eyes on Jack the entire time. It wasn’t until the whole room was empty save for the two of them did Colan finally speak.

“Did you enjoy your vacation?”

The incredibly thick layer of sarcasm in the instructor’s voice did not go unnoticed by Jack. Not really in the mood to challenge it, he shrugged. “I’ve had better.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have. You strike me as the kind of person who has exciting adventures every single day.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Not really. The past couple of weeks have just been… hectic.”

Colan arched an eyebrow. “Do tell. I am open-minded enough to consider the very remote possibility that any story you cook up may be convincing enough to be a satisfactory excuse.”

Jack closed his eyes as he sighed heavily. “Look, my friend went missing and—”

“Oh, yes, I know all about that. You think I haven’t heard that the daughter of the famous Isaac Sumdac who just so happens to be a student of this school has gone missing? Darby, I hear it every. Freaking. Day. People are already pointing fingers at the faculty for having done something to her or God knows what. She isn’t even in any of my classes and they’re swinging the Sword of Damocles over my head.”

Jack eyed the professor warily, uncertain where he was going with this conversation.

“Listen,” Colan went on, “I know you’re upset about your friend. I know it’s one of those things where you need to take some time to yourself and… regroup or whatever. However, you know that I’m not the type of teacher who accepts any kind of excuse, good or bad. If you miss class, you miss class and pay the consequences. I should have dropped you the moment you walked in today.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jack asked.

“Because I like your work, Darby. You’re one of my favorite students. You have submitted some of the best work I’ve seen in… well, at least since last semester. You know, there’s always that one person in every class who is just a god amongst men when it comes to a given subject.”

Jack sighed, his hands already on the straps of his backpack. “So I’m still in the class.”

“For now,” Colan said pointedly. “You’re still treading on thin ice. And who knows, I may change my mind tomorrow and kick your ass out of here as soon as I see your face. Point is, I’m doing something I’ve never done before and giving you a second chance. Don’t let it go to waste, Darby.”

“I won’t. Thank you, sir.” With that, Jack quickly got up and headed out of the class room, blowing out his breath as soon as he was far away enough. “God, what a nut job.”

“Hey, Jack.”

Jack turned around to see a blond girl in a white dress walking up to him, holding her textbooks to her chest. In any other circumstance, his heart probably would have been banging to the beat of a war drum; but today, his mind was focused on more pressing matters than the prospect of potential relationships.

“Hey, Alice,” he replied, waiting for her to catch up before walking alongside her down the hall.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” she remarked.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, offering her no further elaboration.

He could feel her gaze on him as they continued walking. “I heard about Sari,” she said. “She was your friend, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, she was.”

“Were you there when it happened?”

This brought Jack to a sudden stop as he turned around to look at Alice. “Pardon?”

“Were you there when it happened?” she repeated. “Both of you stopped attending classes around the same time, and now you’re back and she isn’t.”

Jack opened his mouth to say something but found no words. Without warning, Alice reached out and gently grabbed his arm.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” she said quietly. “I’m just… a very inquisitive person. You know that, right?”

She flashed him a pearly white smile that bordered on the thin line between sincerity and phoniness. Jack wasn’t sure what to make of it and, frankly, wasn’t in the mood of trying to figure it out.

Slowly pulling his arm away from her, he said, “Listen, I’d love to catch up with you but I’ve gotta meet up with my dorm-mates. I promised them I would attend their next D&D session and—”

“Oh, I understand,” Alice replied. “Maybe some other time we could get together and… talk.”

Again, in a different life Jack would have been hearing alarm bells ringing in his head at the ever-so-slightly suggestive tone in her voice. Instead, he simply gave her a curt, “Yeah, see ya,” before continuing his walk down the hall. As he got to the staircase, a million things running through his mind, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Figuring it was Raf or someone else from the RP group, he pulled out his phone and answered it without reading the caller ID.

“Sorry, Raf, I know I’m running late. Professor Colan kept me around and—”

“Jack? It’s Sari.”

At this, Jack nearly missed a step and tripped down the stairs. Quickly recovering his balance, he moved away from the staircase and found a small alcove to stand in while other students walked on by. Holding the phone close to his ear, he said, “Sari? Is this really you? Where the hell are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Sari replied, though it didn’t sound like it in her voice. “I’m at my dad’s house in Detroit. I have no idea where he is. I—”

“How did you escape? That giant scorpion robot took you and—”

“It’s a very, very long story, Jack,” Sari said, sounding exhausted. “I was wondering if you’re still in contact with that Fowler guy. Maybe he could pick me up and bring me back to California so I can explain everything.”

“I think Raf can help with that; his mom is one of the few agents still working for him.” Jack exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you’re all right, Sari. I was— we’ve all been very worried about you.”

He heard her sigh over the phone. “I know. I’ve been worried about myself, if I’m being honest,” she said with a slight chuckle. “My phone battery’s low, so I have to hang up now; I need to have enough juice for when Fowler or whoever calls.”

“Right, right. I understand. Talk to you soon, hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

With that, the phone went silent. Jack blew out a breath of relief before preparing a text message to send to Raf. The sooner he got this ball rolling, the sooner this mess could be sorted out.

If at all, of course.