Transformers Regenerated: Tarnished - Part 3

TALES OF THE DISAPPEARED:

TARNISHED, PART THREE

Chaar, Cycle 8815

“Autobot down! I need a medic!”

Roller gritted his dental plates as he unloaded his gun on the approaching Decepticons, taking down two ground soldiers and one Seeker. Still, the Decepticons were being relentless in their assault and there seemed to be no end of them in sight.

Grimacing, he looked down at the injured bot he was defending. The orange and black bot — named Road Ranger, he believed — was leaking energon from a nasty wound in his chestplate. His blue visor flickered as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

“Stay with me, kid,” Roller muttered, shooting down another advancing Seeker. “You’re not dying on my watch.”

As he continued to exchange fire with the Decepticons, he heard the wail of a siren as a white and red emergency vehicle sped up to them. Transforming into a bulky Autobot, the medic fired off a few shots of his own at the Decepticons before rushing over to Road Ranger.

“I’ve got him,” said Triage, deploying a defibrillator and placing it over Road Ranger’s chest. “I’ll keep him stable while you hold them off.”

“No, get him out of here!” Roller barked. “These ‘Cons are just gonna keep swarming in. We’ll be overwhelmed in no time. I can buy you enough time to escape, but otherwise….”

Triage glanced at him. “If you think I’m going to leave you here to die, then—”

A distant explosion rocked the ground beneath them. Up ahead, Roller could see an entourage of large Decepticon bombers approaching their position, dropping their payload onto the ground below. He wasn’t sure why the ‘Cons were bringing out their heavy hitters for him, a cadet, and a medic, but he was sure that there was no time to question the logic behind the enemy’s decisions.

“Listen, if you stay here for another nanoklik, both you and the kid will die,” Roller snapped at Triage. “I’m the only one here with the firepower to keep them busy. Now get the hell out of here!”

If Triage wanted to protest, another explosion caused by the bombers eradicated such thoughts and the medic quickly transformed into his alternate mode, loading up Road Ranger into his interior. As the medic sped off, Roller continued to unload his gun on the oncoming Decepticons. The bombers were getting closer, and he knew his gun was loading low on ammo. As soon as he heard the telltale sound of the trigger clicking, he discarded the weapon before charging headfirst into the swarm, his battle cry muted by the explosions surrounding him.

As he collided into a Seeker, he failed to notice the bomber directly above him. As he tore off the Seeker’s arm, he failed to notice the bomb dropping onto his head.

As the flames engulfed him, he failed to notice the skeletal hand grabbing his arm. 

By then, everything had gone dark.

Decepticon Headquarters

“I said I wanted him alive!”

Megatron slammed his fist onto the meeting room table, the flames of rage blazing in his red optical sensors. Some of those gathered at the table visibly flinched, while the one towards whom the Decepticon leader was directing his anger remained calm and collected, his own optics narrowed in a icy glare.

“With all due respect, my liege,” Clench said, speaking the last word with a hint of sarcasm, “the Autobot did not leave us with much choice. As soon as he ran out of ammo, he charged headfirst into our forces and was obliterated by a bomb dropped by one of our Heavy Brigade unit. There was nothing left for us to recover.”

Megatron continued to glower at Clench, silently seething. The fact that the older Decepticon was speaking to him with none of the respect that was supposedly due in front of his inner circle was not doing his emotional state any favors. When Megatron had taken command of the Decepticons after usurping Trannis, Clench had been one of the last ones to swear fealty to him; even his so-called pledge of loyalty had been a half-hearted one at best. Since then, Clench had been anything he could to undermine Megatron’s authority, from disrespecting him in front of his underlings to ignoring or outright disobeying his orders.

Something would have to be done about this lack of discipline, lest Megatron ended up finding himself in Trannis’ tracks….

“Your orders were clear,” Megatron said, quieter though no less furious. “You were to capture the Autobot known as Roller and bring him in — alive. It was a simple command that you could have easily accomplished.”

“If you wanted the Autobot that badly, then you could have easily commanded the operation yourself,” Clench retorted. “I still fail to see what value he could have had to you.”

“It is not so much his value so much as his potential,” Megatron replied. “I knew Roller back when I… back when Optronix served with the Autobots. Even for an Autobot, Roller was a capable fighter and would have made for a fine Decepticon. In addition, he was forged with a superspark.”

“So? I fail to see the relevance.”

“A superspark is a relatively rare spark type,” said Shockwave, standing beside Megatron in his new purple-armored, single-eyed form. “One that makes—”

“I know what is,” Clench snarled. “I simply fail to see how it pertains as to his worthiness as a Decepticon. We already have plenty of supersparks in our numbers — you are speaking to one yourself.”

“Yes, but we do not have enough to spare for our planned super-soldier program,” Megatron said. “The Warriors Elite.”

Clench scoffed. “We do not need to waste our time with frivolous ventures such as that. If our sheer numbers alone do not overwhelm the Autobots, then it is our leadership that should be held accountable. If the Autobots do get the upper-hand in this war, then more ‘super-soldiers’ will not be the answer; only change in leadership will get results.”

Megatron narrowed his eyes. “What are you insinuating, General?” 

“Nothing, my liege. I am simply… expressing my grievances over the direction this war has been taking. We have already lost Chaar, a planet in our own domain.”

“And who is to blame for that, Clench? Please, enlighten me.”

Clench’s hands rolled into fists. Before he could fire off however, Air Commander Starscream spoke up.

“Ah, perhaps we should adjourn for now? I believe we have already gleaned the essentials from General Clench’s report.” 

“Agreed,” Megatron said through gritted teeth. “You are dismissed… General.”

With one last glare, Clench turned on his heel and departed from the meeting room. The other commanders that were present departed as well, leaving only Megatron and Shockwave behind.

Once the two of them were alone, Shockwave fixed his single optic on the Decepticon leader. “My liege, if I may—”

“Not now, Shockwave,” Megatron growled. “I am not in the mood.”

“But, my liege, I may have a solution to this dilemma that you have found yourself with.”

“A solution, you say?” Megatron snapped, whirling on the former High Councilor. “A ‘solution’ like Shockblast, perhaps?”

Shockwave stiffened for the briefest of seconds, the consequences of his recent failure still fresh in his mind. “Not like Shockblast, no, my liege. I would simply like to suggest a candidate for a potential substitute like Roller.”

“A substitute?”

“Yes; a former student of mine. The one whom you know as Glitch.”

“Glitch?” Megatron looked at Shockwave as if he had grown a second head. “You’re not talking about that outlier with the claws, are you?”

“I am.”

Megatron continued to stare at him for a moment before throwing his head back and letting a harsh laugh. “Oh, you must be joking! Do you truly believe that a bot like him would make for a worthy Decepticon?”

“You would be surprised,” Shockwave replied coolly. “He has a superspark, and his powers can be very effective if utilized correctly.”

“I’m sure they can.” Megatron turned and began to stride towards the exit. Shockwave moved to keep up with him.

“My liege, I implore you to give me this chance to make up for my… previous failure,” Shockwave said. “I can find a way to make Glitch a more viable candidate for the Warriors Elite.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“Any bot can be rebuilt. Glitch’s superspark may even allow him to carry a body that is twice or even three times the weight of his current build. Once I have made the necessary modifications to his body, he will be ready for the ununtrium fusing process once we reach that stage of the program.”

Megatron paused as he reached the door, considering Shockwave’s proposal. As much as he hated to admit it, he supposed there was some potential in Glitch if what Shockwave was saying was true. If not, then the worst case scenario would be that Glitch was simply another rejected subject and that they would be forced to find another substitute for Roller.

Glancing at Shockwave, Megatron said, “Very well. I will leave it to you to locate Glitch and bring him to us. If your intuition is correct, then you will be appropriately rewarded. If it is not, then you will be appropriately punished. Is that clear?”

“Of course, Lord Megatron,” Shockwave replied, saluting with his one good hand. “I assure you that you will not be disappointed.”

Cybertron

“This is all your fault.”

Damus — once known as “Glitch” — stood there with his hands rolled into fists, his single blue optics focused on the larger red and blue bot in front of him. Orion Pax met his hateful glare with a sorrowful expression as he cradled the lifeless form of Clicker in his arms. Around them, Trion Square burned; a result of a plan gone horribly wrong.

“Glitch,” Orion started to say, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want—”

“Don’t call me that,” Damus snapped. “My name is Damus. Always has been.” 

“Damus, I’m sorry. It was not my intention for anyone to get hurt.”

“Yeah? Well, too bad, because someone did get hurt!” Damus pointed at Clicker’s deactivated body, hanging limp in Orion’s arms. “All you do is hurt the people around you! All because of you trying to be someone you’re not!”

Orion simply stared at him, the fires around them reflected in his optical sensors. Not waiting to hear another pathetic excuse, Damus turned away from the Autobot he had once looked up to and transformed into his alternate mode, speeding away from the scene. He could hear Trailbreaker and Windcharger calling his name, trying to stop him, but he refused to listen to them. Within minutes, Trion Square — and everything that had taken up so much of his life — was well behind him.

How could it have gone so horribly wrong? Already he was coming to understand why bots like Anode and Lug had left and refused to take part in this war; either side was just as bad as the other. Autobots, Decepticons, they were all the same. It was a story with no heroes and only villains. If only it hadn’t taken him so long to realize that; perhaps then he would have left with Anode and Lug, or any of the others that had left over the course of the past year.

He did not stop driving until he reached a deserted alleyway, far from the prying eyes of functioning bots. Converting back into his robot mode, he dropped himself onto the ground and huddled himself up to the side of a building, burying his head in his hands. He had no idea where he was going to go from here. He could not go back to the Anti-Vocationist League — there was no Anti-Vocationist League at this point — and he certainly was not going to join up with the Autobots, not if bots like Orion Pax or Zeta Prime were anything to go by. That only left…. 

“Are you lost, little one?”

Damus moved with a start and he scrambled to his feet. Standing at the far end of the alley, partially hidden by shadows, was a tall and lean bot in red and black armor plating. Her red optics glowed in the darkness as she calmly approached an apprehensive Damus, hands clasped behind her back.

“It sounds like something bad is happening over in Trion Square,” she said, as if she was talking about the weather.

Damus looked away from her, avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Oh, but I believe you do. I know who you are, Damus of Tarn. As a former member of the Cybertron Security Force, I have every single member of the Anti-Vocationist League registered and memorized in my databanks.”

“So, what, are you here to arrest me?” Damus snapped.

“On the contrary, rather.” She drew one of her hands from behind her back and extended it to him. “I am here to recruit you.”

Damus eyed the proffered hand skeptically. “Into what? The Autobots? Another activist movement that is sure to fail?”

“Neither of those things. Better than those things.” Her face twisted into a smirk. “We’re talking about an empire; one that will long outlive the Autobots and movements like the AVL to the point that their mere existence will become redundant and irrelevant.”

Damus did not need her to clarify; he already knew whom she was speaking of. Just as he was about to object, she spoke up again.

“I have it on good authority that you were once a student of Councilor Shockwave.” Her smile broadened. “I’ve heard that he is very interested in speaking with you and catching up.”

Damus’ single optic dilated slightly as he looked back up at the Decepticon femme. A long moment of silence passed between them as, before he even realized it, he raised his hand to take hers.

*  *  *

“—authorities say that the explosion was caused by a bomb planted near the Trion Square Memorial Monument. At least thirteen casualties have been reported so far, among them Clicker of Kalis, leader of the Anti-Vocationist League.”

Dominus Ambus stared at the viewscreen, his expression blank. It pained him that he had become so numb to things like this, almost to the point of apathy. He hated that he felt that way, but at the same time he struggled to bring himself to change it.

“According to our sources, Zeta Prime is being debriefed on the incident as we speak and is expected to make a statement later this orbital cycle. Councilors Taxion and Boreas have already made comments on the tragedy, with the latter expressing beliefs that the Decepticons are to—”

“Turn it off.”

Dominus stirred, as if he had suddenly forgotten that his partner had been standing next to him this whole time. “This is important, Rewind,” he murmured.

“Turn it off,” Rewind repeated, soft yet stern at the same time. “Please.”

With a sigh, Dominus pressed a switch and the viewscreen went dark, though the images it had displayed remained burned into his optical receptors. “We can’t stand aside and pretend to ignore it forever, you know,” he said quietly. “Soldiers or not, we have to do something to help our Autobot brothers and sisters.”

“I know,” Rewind admitted. “Eject has been suggesting that I join him in helping Blaster spread… well, essentially propaganda to inspire others into joining the Autobots. He thinks that my vast database could be useful.”

Dominus nodded. “Knowledge can be powerful and persuasive. I can see why he would suggest that.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about it though. It just seems… too much like what the old High Council used to do, under Sentinel Prime. Hell, even Zeta Prime has not been much better, especially if his response to that incident with Hefter is any indication.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Dominus replied. “However, at this point, it seems as if we have little choice. There is no chance of us joining the Decepticons and if we try to stay neutral, then some may brand us as traitors. And the Decepticons have no love for neutrals, either.”

“Honestly, I don’t think the Autobots would even look that bad if it weren’t for people like Zeta or those still on the Council,” Rewind said. “I feel that they’ve been giving us a bad image, which is why so many are still flocking over to the Decepticons even after the things Megatron has done.”

“Indeed.” Dominus grimaced, stroking his chinplate. “I can’t help but feel there is more to this than we realize.”

Rewind tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s difficult to explain. And I’m afraid if I say it out loud, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“At this point, Dom, I think we’ve all gone a bit crazy.”

At this, Dominus couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps so, my dear Rewind. Perhaps so.” 

Transformers Regenerated: Pax Cybertronia XV, Chapter Five

 CHAPTER FIVE

Metroplex, above Earth

“I really hope this doesn’t look as suspicious as it actually is.”

“How?” asked Twin Twist, looking over his shoulder at Topspin as the two of them hauled a Sandstorm-sized crate that definitely did not contain an offline Sandstorm inside. “We’re just moving cargo to the Xantium. Nothing suspicious about that.”

“Right,” Topspin muttered. “Nothing suspicious about lugging around a Cybertronian-sized box to the hangar bay. Nope. Nada.”

Twin Twist rolled his optics. “Well, if you keep running your mouth, people are going to be suspicious anyway.”

Fortunately, the pair were able to make it to the hangar with their “luggage” without any complications. Already waiting for them there by the Xantium was Kup. 

“Hurry it up, you two,” Kup barked at them. “The window for us to leave without any trouble is getting ready to shut.”

“Are the others already on board?” Twin Twist asked.

“That’s nothin’ for you to worry about. Move your afts.”

While the Jumpstarters hurried onto the ship with the box containing Sandstorm, Kup rechecked the chronometer in his heads-up display, his face twisting in concern. Indeed, Punch and Whirl were already on board the ship, ready to take off… but their leader had yet to show up. Springer had told Kup that he had one last errand to run before they could leave, but would not tell Kup what said errand was. He could only hope that it wouldn’t be something that would jeopardize this mission… which was already dangerous and suicidal enough.

No more than a few kliks later, Springer finally showed up in the entrance to the hangar, striding towards the Xantium with a grim expression on his face. As he walked up to Kup, the latter tilted his head at the Wrecker commander.

“What was the holdup?”

“Elita stopped me,” Springer muttered, walking past Kup to head up the ship’s ramp. “She asked me if I had seen Punch anywhere.”

“What did you tell her?” Kup asked, following him.

“I said I would keep an optic out for him.”

“Do you think she knows what we’re up to?”

“If she doesn’t, she will soon enough.”

“Do you have a plan for when she does?” Kup asked.

“I do.” Springer smirked at the veteran, pressing the control panel to close up the ship. “It just won’t be a good one.” 

The Axalon, preparing for takeoff

“Someone want to remind me when we became a taxi service?”

“Shut up, Rattrap,” Primal said as he led Bumblebee onto the Axalon. “Optimus has approved him for a mission down on Earth and he’s not in any state for an orbital jump. He’ll just be joining us for this one trip.”

Rattrap rolled his optics and threw up his arms as if to say “Whatever” before returning his attention to the ship’s scanners. At the controls, Cheetor gave his crewmate a look before turning to give Bumblebee a welcoming “thumbs-up.”

“Welcome aboard, ‘Bee! Nice faceplate.”

“Thanks, though it’s only temporary,” Bumblebee replied, taking a spare seat near Rhinox’s station. “I’m not sure if I’m going to keep it once my my actual face is all patched up.”

“Eh, who knows. Some bots go crazy for mechs in faceplates,” Rattrap said, before muttering under his breath, “Not that that’s ever helped me….”

“Uh-huh….” Bumblebee glanced at Primal, whose expression was unreadable as he took his seat in the command chair. The Maximal leader spared him a glance before shifting his attention to Cheetor.

“Are we all set to go, Cheetor?”

“Ready when you are, big bot.”

“Then take us away.”

Within moments, the Axalon lifted up from the floor of the hangar bay and began to make its way through the open door. Just as the bow of the ship cleared the entrance, a proximity alarm went off at Rattrap’s station, coating his face in red light.

“Whoa, hold up! Someone’s intrudin’ on our airspace!”

As soon as he had spoken the words, a massive white and red ship appeared in the periphery of the viewport. Cheetor yanked back on the controls to pull the Axalon back before it could collide with the other vessel. As a variety of alarms blared through out the bridge, Primal peered through the viewport and his optics narrowed in recognition.

“Wait a nanoklik… that’s the Xantium! What’s it doing out here?” Turning to Rhinox, Primal barked, “Patch me through to them! Get Springer on the comm!”

“They’re not picking up,” Rhinox said after a few moments. “Let me try and hail Elita.”

Primal groaned as he pinched his noseplate. “For Primus’ sake, what do those cross-wired fools think they’re doing?!”

Bumblebee watched as the Xantium continued to fly past the Axalon, heading straight for the Earth’s atmosphere. Whatever it was the Wreckers were doing, it appeared to be urgent as the massive ship pressed ahead at full speed, undeterred by its near-collision with the Maximals’ ship.

“Y’know,” he heard Rattrap mutter as the Wreckers’ ship passed through the atmosphere, “I never did like these Wreckers.”

*  *  *

Standing outside the Ark along with Kicker, Optimus Prime, and two other Autobots, Sari watched as the Maximal ship Axalon landed in front of them. After the ship had touched down, it lowered its ramp and its crew of four Maximals stepped out of the ship, followed by an Autobot in yellow and black plating.

“Thank you for your assistance, Primal Major,” Optimus said to his Maximal counterpart. “It is greatly appreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” Primal replied. “Though we ran into some trouble with your Wreckers along the way….”

Optimus tilted his head questioningly. “Come again?”

“Yeah, that big-aft hauler of theirs nearly crashed into us when we tried to take off from the hangar!” said Rattrap. “I dunno what’s got their wires crossed.”

“I’ve already contacted Elita about it,” Primal said just as Optimus was about to ask. “She said that she would handle them and for us to continue our mission.”

Optimus slowly nodded, though Sari could tell that he was still perturbed by this. “This isn’t normally like Springer,” he murmured. “Out of all the Wreckers, he and Kup have always been the most level-headed. If neither of them were in command, I would have disbanded the Wreckers centuries ago, especially after Pova.”

“Yeah, well, a bit too late for that, ain’t it?” Rattrap remarked.

Optimus waved a dismissive hand. “In any case, thank you for bringing Bumblebee here, and I apologize for the Wreckers’… behavior.” Optimus then directed his attention to Bumblebee. “Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead here will join you in accompanying Sari and Kicker on their mission.”

“Cool.” Bumblebee looked down at the two techno-organics, noting their cybernetic armor and appearance. “Nice to meet you, Kicker. Glad to see you’re okay, Sari.”

“Likewise, ‘Bee,” Sari replied.

Kicker shifted his feet. “So, uh, should we get going now? There’s no telling what they might be doing to Isaac Sumdac, or how long he’s got.”

“There’s one last thing before you go.” Optimus Prime gestured to Bulkhead, who brought his arms out from behind his back and held up a small, human-sized energy container. Within the container was a third techno-organic, this one resembling a young woman with blond hair. Her face twisted in fury as it split open and revealed several razor-sharp metal teeth, unleashing an ear-splitting shriek.

“This is Alice,” Bulkhead said, wincing from the scream. “She’s, uh… yeah. She’s Alice.”

“Kicker says that she might be an escaped subject of Project: Cadmus,” Optimus elaborated to a bewildered Bumblebee. “Regardless of whether or not she will cooperate with you, it may still be beneficial to bring her along.”

“Wonderful,” Bumblebee replied. “And here I was hoping that this would be a nice, quiet trip with friends.”

Arcee looked over to Kicker. “So, where exactly is this ‘Project: Cadmus’ facility, and how are we going to get there? Wheeljack and his team still don’t have the GroundBridge up and running, and I don’t think you techno-organics nor Bumblebee can withstand an orbital jump at the moment.”

“The facility is located in Detroit,” Kicker said. “I don’t remember the exact location but I remember it being near where Sumdac Systems is now… though last I heard, it’s been turned into an Onyx Tower.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sari muttered, crossing her arms. “I’m afraid to even look up what Onyx is getting up to over there, especially with Powell running things.”

Rhinox shifted in discomfort. “I’m sorry… but did you say Onyx? As in Onyx Prime?”

“It’s an organization named after him,” Arcee explained. “Sovereign and the Titan Masters were using it as a front for their operations; operations that did not come to fruition, as far as we know.”

“They were working with us for a time, before they mysteriously vanished on Cybertron,” Optimus elaborated further. “No one has heard from them or of them since.”

Primal rubbed his chin, looking intrigued. “Interesting,” he murmured. “If it is all right with everyone, perhaps we could accompany Bumblebee and his team to this Cadmus facility.”

Rattrap gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious?!”

“Well, Detroit is on the other side of the country,” said Sari. “If we can’t use a GroundBridge or an orbital jump, then we’re gonna need some kind of ship to get there….”

Optimus Prime nodded. “I am fine with that arrangement. Once you’ve delivered your supplies to Wheeljack and his team, you may set out for the Cadmus facility.”

Rattrap threw his arms up in the air. “See?! What did I tell ya; we’re a taxi service now!”

“Rattrap,” Rhinox started to say.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Rattrap waved his hand flippantly as he rolled his eyes. “S’all I hear these days….”

The Xantium

“Kup, I think it’s about time I told you a story.”

Kup glared at Springer as he braced himself against a support railing. “If it ends the way I think this one is going, then I’m not sure I wanna hear it.”

“It was Cycle 8833, during our first engagement with Squadron X in the Salvvatan system,” Springer went on, his face a calm slate as the Xantium plunged through Earth’s clouds. “For the duration of the whole battle, Impactor and Valve — Squadron X’s leader — were hashing it out over comms, exchanging taunts with every hit we dealt each other. From that conversation alone, I could gather that the two had a history.”

Kup’s expression turned solemn at this, in spite of his unease. “Valve was a founding member of the Wreckers,” he said. “There from the beginning, before even Impactor had joined.”

Springer nodded. “I know. In between taunts, the two of them would reminisce about ‘the good old days.’ It was the first time I had ever seen Impactor show something resembling a soft side. Of course, he clamped up as soon as the Pale Fire took out our communications array.”

Kup glanced at him again. “Where are you going with this, lad?”

“To this day, I can still hear the last thing Impactor said to Valve before he ended the call,” Springer replied. “He said, ‘Careful. You’re the one who picked her.’”

“Any idea what he was referring to?”

“I never bothered to ask him, because I could tell it was a touchy subject,” Springer said. “But I always assumed he was referring to the Xantium.”

Kup seemed to think about this for a moment. “That would make sense,” he said. “I remember them havin’ this ship pretty early on in the First War.”

“It’s certainly had a good run.” Directing his attention to Whirl, seated at the ship’s controls, Springer said, “Pull up a little and head for the coordinates I’m transmitting to you now.”

“Got it.” Whirl spared a second to scan the coordinates he had received before saying, “Oh. Oh wow. We’re really going that route, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Springer said firmly. “Once you’ve set the course, advance at full speed.”

“Oh, you are so talking my language,” Whirl replied. “Only took you, what, a thousand years?”

Kup frowned as he looked at Springer. “What coordinates did you send him? If Whirl’s happy about it, it can’t be anything good.”

“They’re coordinates to the Decepticons’ camp in Verenya.”

“What?!” Twin Twist exclaimed. “I thought the idea was for us to sneak in! We can’t do that if they see our giant freaking starship in their airspace!”

Springer smirked. “We can if we make them think we died in the crash. Topspin, prepare the escape pods.”

“Springer, have you lost a diode?!” Kup snapped. “Even Impactor wouldn’t have pulled off a stunt like this!”

“I know he wouldn’t. That’s why I’m doing it.” Springer flashed him a grin; the type of grin Kup had not seen from him in a while. “You know me, old timer. I’ve never done things the way Impactor would have.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kup growled. “Have you lost your pit-damned mind?!”

Springer did not respond to him as he looked back to Topspin. “Are those pods ready?”

“Uh, yeah. Though at this velocity, I don’t know if we’ll—”

“Then let’s get moving. Whirl, put the ship on autopilot.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to heroically sacrifice myself to get me out of your hair?” Whirl retorted. “I always knew you cared about me deep down.” 

Just as Whirl was about to fulfill the orders given to him, Punch said, “Hold on a nanoklik. I just saw something on the radar.”

“Have the Decepticons already spotted us?” asked Topspin.

Before Punch could answer, something large slammed into the Xantium, knocking it off course. As Whirl struggled to regain control of the ship, what sounded like heavy metal feet landed on top of the Xantium followed by the sound of guns powering up. As the Wreckers all drew their weapons, the ceiling above them exploded and a massive metallic figure in green, white, and purple dropped onto the bridge.

“SIXSHOT?!” Springer exclaimed, pointing his gun at the Decepticon Six Changer. “I thought you were dead!”

Sixshot said nothing as he drew two large massive guns and opened fire.

Star Wars: Vergence I, Chapter Eight

 CHAPTER EIGHT

Although their helmets mitigated the effects of the sound bomb on their ears, it did little to prevent the resulting vibrations from knocking the Knights of Ren off their feet. As Kylo Ren struggled to get back up, he could see Toah and the other two Jedi cutting their way through the blast door at the front desk with their lightsabers, while their Ortolan companion flattened his long floppy ears with his hands.

“Somebody stop them!” Kylo called through the Force, just in case the sound bomb had affected one of the others’ ears.

Laying flat on his stomach, Kuruk carefully aimed with his blaster rifle, pointing it at the Jedi. Sensing him, Toah turned around and gestured with his hand, causing Kuruk’s arm to jerk up just as he pulled the trigger, the blaster bolt going straight up into the ceiling.

Cardo moved next, getting up on one knee and using his other arm to keep his arm cannon steady. The three Jedi quickly moved out of the way as he fired a plasma bolt from the cannon. It struck the wall they had been trying to cut through and it blasted open in a small yet fiery explosion.

“You idiot….” Kylo muttered just as the Jedi returned to the newly made opening, this time with the Ortolan in tow.

Zarin smiled cheekily at them as he waved. “Thanks!” he said as he, Toah, Rey, and Bedo bolted through the opening.

“AFTER THEM!” Kylo roared, already moving to pursue them. He had not taken more than a few steps before something stopped him and caused him to freeze in place. The other Knights stopped as well, looking at their master confusedly as he slowly turned himself around to look over his shoulder.

“Why are you stopping?” Vicrul growled impatiently. “They’re getting away!”

“We have company.” Kylo’s voice was barely audible through his mask. “Stay here and deal with them while I deal with the Jedi.”

“Do you really think you can deal with them all by yourself?” asked Ushar, hefting his war club. “Let me have a swing at them and I’m sure I—”

“You will obey my orders or else,” Kylo snapped. “Don’t let anyone come through the entrance; if they do, kill them with extreme prejudice.”

Before any of the other Knights could protest, Kylo Ren began to head in the direction the Jedi had went. Karis moved to follow him only to be stopped by Vicrul.

“You heard him,” Vicrul muttered. “Let him go—”

“No,” Kylo said, never breaking stride. “She comes with me.”

Ignoring the others’ barely audible grousing, Karis eagerly followed Kylo down the hallway, leaving behind six very disgruntled Knights of Ren.

*  *  *

As torture techniques went, there were none quite as unique as a history lesson.

Still trapped under the targeting range of the turrets, Valrisa and the others had no choice but to stay where they stood as Sal Tyrius paced through the room. The Arkanian curator had since been joined by the Corellian head of state Thrackan Sal-Solo, who stood at the back of the room with a grave look on his face, watching them all with a steely gaze.

As he walked from one glass cabinet to another, admiring the historical artifacts within, Tyrius said, “Most people don’t realize it, but the House of Solo gained notoriety long before a certain smuggler came along to help save us from the Empire.”

At this, Thrackan stiffened but remained silent as the Curator continued speaking.

“In 4960 C.R.C. — or 2983 BrS, if you’re one of those who insist on abiding by the Great ReSynchronization — the Seventeenth Alsakan Conflict was brought to a timely end when Corellia made an embarrassment of both Coruscant and Alsakan, after having had no part in their petty conflicts for so long. Just to rub the salt onto the wound, Prince-Admiral Jonash e Solo held Chancellor Vedij at sword-point in front of the entire Senate as he negotiated a peace treaty—”

“I know where this is going,” Poe Dameron interjected, prompting Tyrius to whirl around and face him. “This was the same spiel Sal-Solo and his cronies gave when they tried to threaten the Alliance with secession seven years ago. Let me guess: You’re going to say that Prince-Admiral Jonash e Solo went on to become elected Supreme Chancellor and tried to move the Republic’s capital to Corellia.”

Tyrius shook his head. “Oh, no. I’m well aware of that egregious crime of historic revision that the Corellian Council committed during that little fiasco. I cannot begin to tell you the number of discrepancies I had to correct whenever I visited a museum or university that did not know better.”

“You know, all this would be a lot more interesting if we didn’t have these guns pointed at our heads,” said Typha. “Just saying.”

Tyrius turned his head to look at the Pantoran, staring at her a moment longer than Valrisa would have liked. “Perhaps it would,” the Arkanian said with a shrug. “Then again, I don’t really expect any of you to have as much of an appreciation for history as I do. No offense, but just from looking at you all, I can tell that you are more… lowbrow in terms of intellect.”

“Yeah, insulting us isn’t going to do much better,” Poe muttered. “I suggest you let us go before I arrest you in the name of the Galactic Alliance.”

“The Galactic Alliance?” Tyrius let out a high and harsh laugh. “You mean the same Galactic Alliance you are rebelling against?”

“We’re not rebelling,” Jessika objected. “We’re trying to get to the source of the corruption that has been plaguing the Senate for the past two years.”

“Ah, of course. Just like how the likes of Mon Mothma and Bail Organa tried to get to the source of the corruption that had plagued their Senate for the last couple of decades before its Chancellor took it to its logical extreme.” Tyrius grinned widely. “One of the many things I enjoy about studying history is keeping track of how many times it repeats itself.”

Before anyone could respond to his statement, a beep came from a nearby desk. Thrackan moved over to the desk and pressed a finger down on the comm button.

“Yes?”

“Sir, Kylo Ren has arrived,” replied a woman’s voice. “However, it would appear he is being… held up.”

“Held up by what?” Thrackan asked.

“Three Jedi and some Ortolan, sir.”

This time, it was Valrisa and the others’ turn to tense. Tyrius did not pay them any mind as he casually glided over to the desk.

“Offer them an invitation to my office, Lunara,” he said. “There is no need for senseless violence. We can all be friends here.”

“Understood, sir,” replied the female voice. “Although it might be difficult to calm down Mr. Ren. He appears to be… particularly enraged.”

Tyrius smirked. “I’ve dealt with worse. Please, bring them in. And try not to lose an arm in the process.”

With that, he ended the call before turning to face his involuntary guests. “I hope you are comfortable,” the Arkanian said, not bothering to hide the mocking tone in his voice. “I get the feeling we are going to be here for a while longer.”

*  *  *

“Mr. Ren, I suggest that you—”

Kylo Ren roared as he smashed his lightsaber against the blast door separating him from Toah, Rey, Zarin, and Bedo. His pursuit of the Jedi had been abruptly ended by the door slamming in front of him and Karis, though he had a feeling none of them had been the one to have actually closed the door.

“The Curator would like you to—” the Arkanian woman behind him tried to say.

“SHUT UP!” Kylo bashed his blade against the door again, leaving behind a scorch mark, before whirling around to face the Arkanian. “OPEN THE DOOR!”

Lunara stared back at the dark warrior calmly, her eyes — one natural white, the other cybernetic blue — unblinking. “The Curator would like to invite you and the Jedi to his office. Preferably all in one piece.”

“I want nothing to do with these Jedi,” Kylo snarled. “I want them either dead or out of my sight.”

“Unfortunately, your wishes and desires do not take priority over the Curator’s own,” Lunara said coolly. “He wishes to meet with you in his office so that you may deliver the artifact. He will deal with the Jedi as he sees fit.”

Kylo looked ready to object when Karis said, “Master, perhaps we should do as she says.”

He turned sharply to glare at her; although hidden by his mask, the S’kytri apprentice could still feel his cold gaze upon her. “And why should we?”

Karis cleared her throat, steadying herself. “It may prove beneficial for us to humor this Curator until we get whatever we need from him and leave. Causing chaos and havoc will simply needlessly complicate matters.” 

Kylo continued to stare at her for a moment, the silence between them taut with tension. Finally, he shut off his lightsaber and turned back to look at Lunara.

“Very well,” he said, though the resent in his voice was clear to all who heard it. “Take us to the Curator. Now.”

Lunara smiled, though its warmth did not reach either her organic eye nor her cybernetic one. “Thank you for your cooperation. If you would follow me.”

*  *  *

“I had a feeling you would have been here for this,” Wedge Antilles said, sitting behind the co-pilot’s seat of the Millennium Falcon. “As soon as I heard Iella mention the name ‘Thrackan Sal-Solo,’ I knew—”

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that name,” Han Solo retorted as he piloted the Corellian freighter into Coronet Spaceport. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t have touched this situation with a thousand-yard pole. But Leia… well, you know how she is.”

Wedge figured he didn’t know her as well as Han did, but he nodded anyway. “How is she, if I may ask?”

Han shrugged. “She’s been busy. But she always is, I guess. She’s never been one to sit aside while the rest of the galaxy burns.”

He flipped a few switches before saying to his Wookiee co-pilot, “All right, Chewie, let’s bring her in.”

Chewbacca growled something to him in his native tongue.

“Relax, the clearance codes should go through. Besides, conspiracy plot or not, they’d be crazy to fire on a ship with a reputation like this one.”

Chewbacca’s response indicated that he was not wholly convinced by that statement.

“Yeah, good point,” Han muttered. “This is my crazy cousin we’re dealing with.”

As the Falcon guided itself into the spaceport, Wedge spotted a glimpse of a tall, almost-skyscraper sized building situated in the center of the city, looming over the rest of Coronet. Chewbacca seemed to have noticed it too as he released a series of frantic roars and growls.

“Yeah, yeah, I see it.” Han sounded uncharacteristically quiet and soft. “It’s probably just another star yacht of the same design. I’m sure they make tons of them.”

“Do you recognize that building?” Wedge asked, and instantly regretted it when Han shot him a dirty look.

“Let’s say I do and leave it at that,” the ex-smuggler grunted before returning his attention to the ship’s controls. “So once we land, what’s the plan?”

“Fulcrum just got back to me,” said Jesmin, stepping into the cockpit. “She says that our agents in Coronet have gotten into the star yacht, but she’s lost contact with them.”

“Great,” Han muttered. “So, what do we do, bust them out of there?”

“That would make the most sense,” said Wedge. “The real question is if that’s what Iella— sorry, ‘Fulcrum’ wants us to do.”

Han looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “If she does or not, will it change what we’ll actually end up doing?”

Wedge shook his head. “Not at all. It’ll just change how long she’ll go without talking to me.”

At this, Han flashed him a grin. “Spoken like a true married man. Chewie, bring us closer to the yacht.”

The Wookiee responded in a questioning tone.

“That’s the idea. I want Thrackan to know we’re coming.”

This time, it was Wedge’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Just a few minutes ago, you were saying you wished you hadn’t come.”

“And I still feel that way,” Han replied. “Let’s just say your boldness is contagious.”

Behind him, Wedge heard Jesmin sigh.

“Great. I’m stuck with two old men going through a mid-life crisis….”

*  *  *

“…And it saddens me that so few speak of King Benethor e Solo in high regard. In the early 7500s C.R.C., he invoked Contemplanys Hermi in an attempt to secede from the Republic. This bold move was a protest against Chancellor Cera Teem’s policies, which greatly favored….”

Thrackan Sal-Solo could heard Sal Tyrius’ words, but he had long since stopped processing them or their meaning. The Arkanian could go on and on about the House of Solo’s history and accomplishments; all that mattered to Thrackan was how it would legitimize his right to the throne of Corellia and solidify his rule over the sector. Once that was done, he could not care less about what any Solo before him had accomplished; all that would matter would be what he accomplished from now until….

Until when? When he died? He was not exactly getting any younger; he had turned seventy-seven this year and was already needing to rely on a cane for support. Even now, editorials were being published on how his tenure as head of state would be short-lived; would they even accept him as a King to begin with? Or would they simply laugh him off? And even after he died, what then? He had no offspring to speak of and thus no one to carry on in his stead. Would the Corellian Council simply elect a new monarch, similar to how the Naboo elected theirs? Would — nine hells forbid — Han Solo or any of his spawn attempt to claim the throne? Or would the Galactic Alliance drag Corellia back in and install their own head of state that would abide by their every wish and command?

As these questions swirled around his head, Thrackan barely noticed the YT-1300 freighter flying just outside the window. As a Corellian model, such ships were a credit a dozen in Coronet’s skies. But as it began to land in a nearby docking bay, he performed a double take… and in an instant his heart dropped into his stomach like a large stone in a pond.

“Han Solo,” he said, the name sounding almost like a gasp as his breath hitched.

Sal Tyrius stopped speaking and turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Pardon?”

“Han Solo is here,” Thrackan said, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I saw… I saw the Millennium Falcon land outside.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just another YT freighter?”

Thrackan shook his head. “I would recognize that piece of junk anywhere.”

A smile began to slowly creep its way onto Tyrius’ face. “Interesting….”

Poe Dameron was also smirking. “You guys are in for it now.”

“Oh, no,” the Curator chuckled. “I believe things are just about to get started.”

Star Wars: Vergence I, Chapter Seven

 CHAPTER SEVEN

“Blueberry to Flyboy: All of the guards are down for the count.”

“Copy that, er, ‘Blueberry,’” Poe said into his comlink. “Meet us at the northeast entry point. Flyboy, out.”

He ended the call before turning to look at Valrisa, who was waiting with him at said entry point with Kyla and Jessika. “Interesting partner, you’ve got,” he said.

“I’ve always thought so,” Valrisa said with a shrug.

Poe then switched channels on his comlink. “Vessin, any progress?”

“We’re in,” the Mandalorian woman responded. “Making our way to where you guys are.”

“Any resistance so far?”

“Not yet. We didn’t make too much of a noisy entrance and we haven’s spotted or been spotted by anyone.”

“Keep it that way. Flyboy— er, Poe, out.” He took a moment to take a deep breath. “So far, so good,” he muttered before switching channels to their last team. “Bedo, how’s the distraction going?”

He heard the Ortolan say something but was unable to make it out. Whatever it was, it sounded like a terrified squeal. Several seconds passed before what sounded like lightsabers filled the comm feed. Then the channel went dead.

As Poe stared off into space, trying to comprehend what he had just heard, he could faintly hear Kyla mutter under her breath.

“You just had to say that, didn’t you?”

*  *  *

Toah Jarsan felt cold.

It had come over him like a cold breeze; not a pleasant cold like an autumnal wind, but a sharp and harsh one, like one would experience in a raging blizzard. He turned around to see the source of the intrusion and felt his heartbeat quicken.

While the others in the masked man’s entourage were unfamiliar to him, Toah knew he had seen their leader before, back during the Battle of Ossus. Known as Kylo Ren, the Sith-like warrior had brought down many Jedi with his unstable red blade, including Jedi Master Taana Di. From what he had been told in secret, Kylo Ren was also none other than Han and Leia Solo’s son Ben, previously thought dead. How Ben Solo had survived his apparent demise, Toah was not sure… and he doubted that the darksider was going to be willing to provide any answers.

As the dark warriors grew closer, he sensed both Rey and Zarin tense up, reaching for their lightsabers. Toah raised a hand to stay his apprentice, at the same time becoming conscious of the fact that all three of them were lugging around cumbersome musical instruments. At this point, he knew there was no sense in keeping up the charade; from the way Kylo Ren seemed to be staring right at him, it was clear that the dark warrior recognized him from Ossus.

“Ah, Kylo Ren,” the Arkanian receptionist said from behind the Jedi, her tone sharing none of the apprehension that Toah was feeling. “The Curator is expecting you on level—”

She was cut off by the snap-hiss of an unstable red blade of energy emitting from the lightsaber in Kylo Ren’s hand, causing Bedo to squeal in fright. Instinctively, Toah, Rey, Zarin all activated their own lightsabers, though Zarin’s own red blade stood out jarringly from Toah and Rey’s blue ones. Toah decided not to dwell on that matter for now and instead focused his attention on Kylo and his fellow Knights of Ren.

“Put down your weapons!” snarled one of the Selonian guards, raising a blaster at the Jedi.

“Him first,” Zarin grunted, inclining his head towards Kylo.

“The Knights of Ren here are the Curator’s distinguished guests,” the Arkanian said coldly. “You and the friends, on the other hand, are not welcome. Would you like me to call CorSec for you?”

Toah grimaced as he tightened his grip on his lightsaber. Kylo Ren remained silent nor did he move to make the first strike, though the other Knights of Ren were visibly tense and had their weapons drawn, ranging from vibroaxes to blaster rifles. 

“Do you think we can take them all?” Rey whispered to him.

“No,” Toah said truthfully. “But we can’t let them get in the way of the others.”

“So what do we do?”

“We do what we came here to do,” Toah replied. “We distract.”

With that, he thrust out his hand and called on the Force. As if blown by a gust of wind, Kylo Ren was sent flying into the other Knights, knocking them down.

As expected, chaos ensued and Toah decided to make the best of it as he could.

*  *  *

Kadar stood over the unconscious human worker who had been the sole occupant of the yacht’s first level control room. Wiskin stood guard at the door, keeping an eye out for any unwanted company, while Vessin worked at the main computer to open the door that would let Kyla and the others in.

However, Kadar’s attention was centered on the set of viewscreens situated just above Vessin’s head. While none of the other screens showed anything of note, the one on the furthest left displayed an image of the main lobby… and the events that were unfolding on it made Kadar grimace.

“Our Jedi friends seem to be in trouble,” he muttered.

“I can see that,” Vessin replied, focused on her task. “Nothing we can do for them at the moment; I’ve already alerted Poe and the others.”

Kadar continued to stare at the screen, his heartbeat increasing its velocity as he watched the saber-wielding warriors clash. “They haven’t raised the alarms yet,” he observed.

“Please don’t jinx it, dad.” After a moment, Vessin then said, “All right, they’re in. Let’s go meet up with them.”

She turned away from the computer and headed for the door. She passed Kadar, who remained rooted in place. Looking over her shoulder at him, she said quietly, “Dad, come on. Let’s go.”

“Right behind you,” Kadar muttered, willing his legs to cooperate with his mind.

*  *  *

Kylo Ren was quick to get back on his feet and proceeded to lunge at Toah, bringing his lightsaber down like a hammer. Toah raised his own blade to block the attack and red and blue beams crashed together. Rey moved to help him only for a lithe Knight of Ren with large green wings to fly at her, wielding a red lightsaber of their own. Rey was barely able to block the S’kytri’s attack in time and the two proceeded to exchange strikes, parrying one after the other. 

With the two Jedi occupied, Zarin set his sights on the remaining six Knights and charged towards them. One of them raised a blaster cannon attached to their arm and fired, the resulting blast sending the Kiffar ex-Jedi flying. As he crashed into the front desk, the Arkanian woman behind it calmly lowered a blast shield, sealing herself off from the action.

Calling upon the Force once more, Toah pushed Kylo Ren back again but this time the dark warrior expected the repulsion and used the Force himself to hold his ground, merely staggering back a few steps. Reorienting himself, he assessed Toah carefully from behind his mask, rotating his crossguard lightsaber in his hand.

“This is your only chance,” he said. “Surrender now and none of you shall be harmed.”

“Has anyone ever actually fallen for that?” Toah asked.

“It’s not a matter of ‘falling for it,’” Kylo coolly replied, “so much as making the wisest decision.”

“Right.” Toah took a moment to assess the situation. He already knew that the three of them (and Bedo) would not be able to defeat the eight Knights of Ren; at the same time, he wasn’t sure how long they could hold out until the others had done their part of the mission. It was also more than likely that the Arkanian receptionist had already caught on to their plan and had alerted the rest of the facility.

That left only one other option….

“Bedo,” he said quietly. “Time to face the music.”

Huddled nearby with his hands covering his face, the Ortolan peeked through his fingers at the Jedi. “Yeah. It’s been nice knowing you, too.”

“No, no. I mean… it’s time for them to face the music.”

“What are you…? Oh.” Realization dawned on Bedo’s face at the same time as sorrow acceptance. With a sigh, he reached for the bandfill Toah had been carrying and flipped it over on its side, exposing a small button. “It’s been nice hearing you, then.”

Before any of the Knights could figure out what the Ortolan was doing, a blue pudgy finger pressed the button and the entire room erupted in a chorus of white noise.

*  *  *

After entering the star yacht through the door Vessin had opened, Poe, Valrisa, Kyla, Jessika, and Typha made their way through the labyrinth of corridors that made up the dormant ship’s interior. Strangely, they encountered few if any guards and those they did they were easily able to sneak past. As grateful as she was about the lack of resistance, Valrisa was also unsettled by it. Considering that Bedo and the Jedi appeared to be having issues, it was a strange deviation from how smoothly things appeared to be running for them. Had the crew of the yacht simply not noticed them yet? Did the yacht even have that much of a crew?

She decided to put such thoughts aside as they met up with Vessin, Wiskin, and Ziar. Sparing a moment to view a map Vessin had retrieved from the control room, they proceeded to head for the turbolift that would take them to the main office.

As they headed down the corridor, Valrisa felt a pricking at the back of her mind. She knew what it was — even after twelve years she had not forgotten her basic training — and was bracing for them to run into danger with each corner they turned. Even as they finally reached the elevator and stepped onto it, the feeling persisted and only increased as they ascended up the star yacht’s many levels.

“We’re walking into a trap,” she found herself uttering without even intending to.

“Yeah, this does feel a bit too easy,” Poe replied. “Who knows, maybe we’ve been wrong about this whole thing. Maybe the Cabal isn’t operating here.”

“Even so, it’s strange that there’s been so little security,” said Jessika. “You’d think that a place like this would have something….”

These words only served to further Valrisa’s apprehension as the turbolift ascended closer and closer to their destination. Finally, the lift reached a halt and the doors quietly slid open. Beyond them was a quaint office that was as much a small museum as it was an office. Historic paintings and holo-images decorated the walls while numerous glass cases and shelves contained exotic items originating from all across the galaxy. From Tyia amulets to Dathomiri totems, the collection of whoever resided here was evidently large and expansive; it would have taken days, perhaps even months, to catalog every single item in the room.

Situated in the center of the room were two conform loungers with a table between them. Sitting languidly across one of them, facing Valrisa and the others, was a man with tan skin and white hair, with equally white eyes staring back at his visitors. A warm smile tugged at his tight lips.

“I was wondering when you would get here,” he said. He gestured casually with one hand. “Please, come in. Make yourselves at home.”

Eying him carefully, Valrisa and the others stepped into the room. Ziar, however, did not move; it seemed as if he was rooted in place, staring directly at the white-haired man.

“You….” Ziar breathed heavily as he spoke, the sound amplified by the voice modulater of his helmet. “It can’t be….”

The Arkanian glanced in Ziar’s direction and his smile widened, flashing a set of pearly teeth. “Now that is a voice I have not heard in a long time. How are you doing, Kadar?”

Valrisa’s eyes went wide at the mention of the name and she turned to look at the white-armored man. Typha was also studying him carefully, her golden eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

“Kadar?” the Pantoran woman asked. “Isn’t he that Mandalorian bounty hunter who was famous a few years back?”

Vessin closed her eyes as she sighed. Kyla and Wiskin shared a frown while Poe and Jessika exchanged befuddled glances.

“I knew this was going to happen, sooner or later,” Vessin muttered.

Ignoring them all, Kadar pushed his way past them and stormed up to the seated Arkanian, drawing a blaster on the still-smiling man.

“You… YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!” he roared. “I KILLED YOU!”

“Did you?” The Arkanian tapped his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Oh, that’s right, I suppose you did. Or my clone, rather.”

“Your… your clone?” Kadar asked, his voice hoarse.

“I’m an Arkanian, Kadar. A master of genetics. Cloning is like child’s play to us… especially when it is done to our own kind.”

"No.” Kadar’s voice shook, along with the rest of his body. “It can’t be true. It’s not… possible….”

“Enough.” Kyla’s voice was firm yet gentle as she came up to stand besides Kadar, resting a hand on his weapon arm and carefully lowering it. She fixed her gaze on the Arkanian, narrowing her eyes at him. “Tell us who you are,” she demanded.

“Certainly,” he replied. “My name is Sal Tyrius. I am the Curator.”

“I know who you are.” Poe stepped forward, a hand on his holstered blaster. “You were one of Black Sun’s Vigos.”

“Ah, yes.” Tyrius sighed wistfully. “I will admit, I do not remember those days fondly. Those fellows were… quite a bit barbaric for my tastes.”

“So what is it that you do now?” asked Kyla.

Tyrius gestured to the room around them. “I have always been focused on my collection. Even when I worked with Black Sun, it served as my primary motivation.”

“I don’t buy it,” growled Wiskin. “You’re working with the Cabal, aren’t you?”

“Ah.” Tyrius’ smile lost its mirth as he interlaced his fingers. “You know about that then, do you?”

“It’s the whole reason why we’re here,” Poe said. “We’ve been tracking the Cabal’s activities for nearly a year now and have traced them all the way here on Corellia.”

“In that case, well done.” Tyrius splayed his hands as he smiled; Valrisa could not tell if the expression was genuine or not. “I don’t see any point in denying it at this point.”

“Right….” Poe glanced at the others before looking back at the Curator. “So, uh, we’re going to arrest you now.”

Tyrius shook his head. “No, you’re not.”

Behind them, the turbolift doors closed as all of the lights in the room dimmed. Kadar moved to point his blaster at Tyrius again only for several automatic turrets to come down from the ceiling and point at him and the others.

“You’re going to drop your weapons,” the Curator said calmly, “and do exactly as I tell you.”