Star Wars: Vergence I, Chapter Eleven

PART II: FAMILY REUNION

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sare Valrisa stood on the bridge of the Queen’s Hammer, the Hammerhead corvette which served as Queen Kestora’s flagship, as it traveled through the swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace. Her hands were bound together by a pair of binders while a pair of heavily armed female pirates flanked her from behind, ensuring that there would be no chance for her to make some sort of getaway.

The pirate queen herself lounged on the command chair situated in the center of the bridge’s walkway. It did not look like a fixture natural to the ship itself, being made out of an entirely different type of metal than the rest of ship. Indeed, looking down at the bottom of the self-made throne, Valrisa saw a row of haphazard bolts which indicated that someone had manually welded the chair to the deck. She could barely fathom anyone going through that much effort to make themselves feel regal. Then again, she was dealing with a pirate who literally called herself a queen. Whether or not the title had any legitimate basis behind it, Valrisa could only begin to speculate.

What was more of Valrisa’s concern was why this Queen Kestora was handing her off to her estranged mother to begin with. As soon as Valrisa and the others had been brought before Queen Kestora after being escorted out of the First Light, the pirate queen had ordered for everyone else to be taken to the brig with the exception of Valrisa, whom Kestora kept on the bridge while she delivered a message to some Pa’lowick lackey of Malvis’. She wasn’t sure if Kestora had come to Corellia for both her and the star yacht, or if her presence had merely been a “happy” coincidence on the pirate queen’s part.

If she had still been a Jedi learner, Valrisa was sure her former master would have said that it was merely the will of the Force or something like that. Thankfully, she was long past those days of believing such nonsense.

“It’ll be a while before we reach Ord Mantell,” Kestora said, snapping Valrisa out of her thoughts. “If you would like to pass the time, I am open to answering any burgeoning questions you are sure to have.”

Valrisa bit her lip, refraining herself from speaking. As much as she wanted to know such answers, she also did not want to indulge anyone who had a working relationship with her mother.

“You’re probably wondering how I know who you are,” Kestora went on, undeterred by the lack of response. “It’s not exactly private knowledge that you share a name with the Dowager, seeing as how you so publicly go by it. Perhaps you should have considered changing it when she cast you out.”

“I never thought it would have bit me in the rear until now,” Valrisa snapped before she could stop herself. “Besides, it’s not the fact that you recognized that bothers me; it’s the fact that you’re even working for my murglak-of-a-mother at all.”

“Really?” Kestora inclined her head towards Valrisa. “And why is that?”

Valrisa hesitated to answer, but realized there was no point in going back to the silent treatment. The loth-cat was already out of the bag; besides, she wanted answers.

“Because I know what type of person she is,” she said. “Out of all of the crime bosses in the Cabal, she is one of the worst. Even people like Drakmos or the Gaar show their clients some degree of respect and stay true to their word most of the time. But not her. She treats everyone as being beneath her and almost never fulfills her end of whatever deal she’s made. You’d be a fool to work for her and expect anything in return.”

“Interesting.” Kestora tapped the chin of her mask, the eye-slits of her metal visage focused on Valrisa. “Are you sure there isn’t any sort of bias behind these claims of yours?”

Valrisa shook her head. “No, because I’ve seen it all for myself, first-hand. I’ve even been on the receiving end of it plenty of times.”

“I see. And what exactly was it that triggered your falling out with her?”

Valrisa shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re working for her, then you’d already know.”

“Who says I’m working for her?”

“I don’t know, the fact that you’re turning me in?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kestora replied. “There have been plenty of bounties on you posted all across the galaxy. Any bounty hunter could come across one and take on the job regardless of the reputation of the person who posted it. Especially if they’re working for the Guild; those guys always make sure that clients pay the full amount offered.”

“But you’re not a bounty hunter,” Valrisa pointed out. “You’re a pirate queen.”

“I can’t be both?”

“I mean, I don’t see why you would want to be. You’ve already got…” Valrisa gestured with her shackled hands to indicate the numerous pirates crewing the bridge of the corvette. “…All of this.”

Kestora laughed. “You make a good point, I suppose. And you’re right, I’m not a bounty hunter. In fact, this has nothing to do with bounties or money. This has to do with doing what is right.”

Valrisa frowned at her. “And exactly what is that? Turning me in so I can pay for my transgressions?”

“I’m sure you will know the answer to that once we get there.”

Valrisa rolled her eyes before turning away from the pirate queen. As she stared at the spiraling hyperspace tunnel through the bridge’s viewport, she decided to change the course of the conversation.

“What are you going to do with the others? The other people I was with.”

“Why do you care what happens to them?” Kestora asked.

“My partner is among them, for one. As for the rest… I’ve only just met them a few hours ago. Even so, I’m not comfortable with them meeting any sort of horrible end.”

“Unfortunately, you are in no position to decide what happens to them. This is my ship and I decide the fates of those aboard it.” Kestora paused. “However… I will make sure to spare your partner from any ill fate. What’s their name, again?”

“Typha,” Valrisa replied, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “She’s… she’s the Pantoran.”

“I’ll make note of that.” Kestora looked back at her, seeming to notice the visible distress that was starting to manifest on Valrisa’s face. “You seem upset. Is everything all right?”

“I…” Valrisa started to say, only to choke on her words as the gravity of what was happening suddenly settled in on her. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes.

“I think you need some rest,” Kestora said, her voice suddenly soft and quiet. To the two pirates surrounding Valrisa, she said, “Take her to my personal quarters. She can stay there until we reach Ord Mantell.”

Valrisa did not protest as the two pirates grabbed her by the arms and led her away from the bridge, leaving the pirate queen alone to face the blue tunnel of hyperspace.

*  *  *

“So this is how I’m gonna die, huh? What do you even call something like this? Reverse misogyny? Segregation by sexual dimorphism?”

“You’re not going to die,” Toah Jarsan said to Bedo, sitting in a holding cell with the Ortolan. “Relax.”

Bedo rolled his eyes. “Relax. Right. How am I supposed to relax when you’re not doing anything to get us out of this mess?”

“Have some patience. It’s important not to do anything rash lest we make the situation worse than it already is.”

The Ortolan stared at him with narrowed eyes, utterly unconvinced. “I fail to see how that would even be possible.”

Toah sighed but decided not to make any further attempts to assuage the Ortolan’s fears, realizing it would do no good. He looked out of the cell that the two of them were in to see the others in their group — the men, at least — sitting in their own cells, all separated into pairs. Han Solo and Wedge Antilles were confined in one cell, while Poe Dameron and Ace Ral’kre sat in another. Adjacent to the one Toah and Bedo were in was the cell containing Kadar and Wiskin, which was situated next to one containing Zarin Kal and Thrackan Sal-Solo. The rest of their group — the women — had been taken to a separate cell block, as had the Curator Sal Tyrius apparently as the Arkanian was not among the imprisoned men on this particular block.

Clearly, Tyrius had not been lying about the Veiled Sorority’s apparent aversion towards non-females. Whether this boded ill for any of them was something Toah had yet to discern for himself.

“We will not be in this predicament for long, my friends,” Thrackan Sal-Solo suddenly spoke up from his cell. “I have no doubt that the people of Corellia will notice my absence and arrange for my rescue.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure you are so well loved back on Corellia,” muttered Han Solo.

Thrackan shot his cousin a glare from behind the ray shield separating them. “Do not presume that your distaste of me is shared by all, Han. The Corellian Council arranged for my release and accepted me as an honorary member for a reason.”

“I doubt it was a good one,” Han retorted. “’Cos if you ask me, the galaxy has been a lot worse off ever since they let you out.”

Anger flashed in the older man’s eyes. “Are you trying to insinuate something, cousin? Do you think I was responsible for the Glorians’ invasion and everything that happened thereafter?”

“I mean, the timing is uncanny.”

Before Thrackan could snap back, Ace spoke up from his cell. “I don’t mean to be rude,” the Bothan pilot said, “but I strongly doubt that listening to old men bicker will give us any insights as to how we are going to get out of this predicament.”

“What would you suggest then?” asked Wiskin. “Because I doubt sitting in silence will do much good either.”

“We still have two Jedi among us, don’t we?” Ace gestured to Toah and Zarin respectively. “The next time our guard stops by, they can use one of their mind tricks on them and get them to let us out.”

Toah shook his head. “No good. I’m pretty sure I spotted a Toydarian among the guards who escorted us here. The Force does not have as much as an influence on their minds as it does with other sentients.”

“Can you use the Force to disable these ray shields then?”

Toah considered this. “It’s possible,” he admitted after a moment. “But seeing as how they’ve taken our weapons, I doubt we would last long against all of those pirates.”

“Do you guys even need weapons if you’ve got the Force?” asked Poe Dameron. “I thought you guys could just push people without touching them.”

“We can, but we can only concentrate on so many people at a time. If they have weapons when we don’t, then they can easily take out either me or Zarin with their blasters. Jedi or not, we are not invincible.”

“Except,” Zarin interjected, speaking for the first time since they had been brought onto Queen Kestora’s ship, “I am no Jedi.”

Toah looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You were.”

“I was. But I’m no longer that anymore; not after everything I’ve been through.”

“What are you talking about?” Toah frowned as he took in the dark clothing that Zarin had apparently taken to wearing, noting how eerily similar it was to standard Sith clothing. “What have you been through?”

Before the Kiffar could answer him (if he was even going to), a door opened at the end of the hallway and a purple-skinned Toydarian fluttered in, followed by two bulky security droids. She held a datapad in her hands, her long, drooping nose touching the screen as she squinted her tiny eyes in an attempt to decipher the words across it.

“All right,” she said in a harsh, raspy voice. “We’re nearing Ord Mantell and Her Serene Highness wants two of you with her when we arrive. Now, give me a minute while I try to figure out what these names are.”

“So, you’re not gonna flush us all out the airlock?” asked Bedo.

The Toydarian ignored him. “Uh… Hans Ohlo and, uh… Toe-Jar Son. Are you guys in here?”

Toah and Han glanced at each other from across their respective cells. “Er, yes,” said the former. “That would be us.”

“Good.” The Toydarian clicked her fingers and the two droids stomped over to Toah and Han’s cells. She pressed a control panel and the ray shields were lowered long enough for the droids to drag the Jedi and the former smuggler out of their cells. As soon as they were out, the shields went back up, leaving Bedo and Wedge sealed in confinement once more. Without another word to the rest of the prisoners, the Toydarian turned and fluttered out of the cell block, with the two droids escorting Toah and Han trailing close behind.

As soon as they were gone, Bedo let out a heavy sigh. “I bet the ladies are having it much easier than we are.”

*  *  *

Kyla Kishanti grunted as her face collided with a wall of durasteel. As her head spun, she could hear the cheers and jeers coming from the roaring crowd of pirates that surrounded her and her brutish opponent. The other women that had been captured along with her — Vessin, Rey, Typha, and Jessika — laid nearby, struggling to get back to their feet after having been knocked down by the same massive Cragmoloid that was now looming over her.

“Is this honestly the best the Queen could get for us?” laughed the pachydermoid alien. “I expected better, especially from a woman with Mandalorian armor and a girl with a lightsaber!” 

After regaining her balance, Kyla turned back around to face the Cragmoloid, raising her fists in a ready position. Before she could make a move, the Cragmoloid lunged again and slammed a massive fist into the Mirialan’s face, knocking her to the deck.

As the crowd roared their approval, Vessin pulled herself up before charging towards the Cragmoloid, colliding into the pachydermoid’s back. This did nothing more than elicit a taunting laugh from the pirate as she turned around and grabbed Vessin by the collar of her undersuit, hoisting her off her feet.

“Can’t say I’ve ever killed a Mandalorian before,” the Cragmoloid said, breathing through the long trunk on her face. “Would you like to be the first?”

“Come on, Vuula, save some for the rest of us!” cried another pirate from the crowd, a green-skinned Twi'lek with large arms. “It hasn’t even been an hour yet!”

The Cragmoloid snorted before throwing Vessin to the deck. “Fine,” she growled as she lumbered away. “Just know that I broke them in for you.”

Kyla groaned, her whole body aching. As she struggled to lift herself back up, she saw more pirates pour into the makeshift arena that they had formed in the ship’s cargo hold, led by the muscular Twi'lek. All of them were imposing in some way, whether it was thanks to their size or to the gear that they wore. Either way, there was little chance of Kyla or any of the others being able to take them out in combat in their current state.

“We are so dead,” she muttered to herself, giving up and allowing herself to collapse back down to the deck.

“All right,” said the Twi'lek. “I’ll take the Mando. Ketanna can have the Jedi girl, the rest of you—”

“Hold on,” said a four-armed Codru-Ji pirate, no doubt the one named Ketanna. “How come you always decide who I get? Why can’t I decide, for once?”

“Because if it hadn’t been for me, you’d have been sold off to some disturbed crime boss as a pet Wyrwulf. You owe me for that.”

“That was almost twenty years ago! Surely I’ve paid it off by now!”

“I’ll decide when you’ve paid it off. Now shut up and—”

The Twi'lek abruptly stopped speaking. Kyla dared to look up and saw the green-skinned woman reaching up for her neck, a look of confusion on her face. The other pirates had also stopped to look at her and the crowd surrounding them had suddenly gone quiet.

“Uh, are you okay?” asked Ketanna.

“I’m fine,” the Twi'lek replied, though her hoarse voice said otherwise. She released a loud cough before gasping, as if she was suddenly short of breath. As the other pirates began to crowd around the Twi'lek, looking concerned for her well-being, Kyla looked over to Vessin and the others. All of them looked as confused as she was… except for Rey. The Jedi girl’s eyes were narrowed as if in concentration, all while the Twi'lek continued to cough and gasp and—

“What’s going on down here?”

The Twi'lek took in a deep breath of air, stumbling in her stance but not falling. She and the other pirates all turned to see a purple-skinned Toydarian flutter into the cargo hold. Behind her were a pair of security droids, each one escorting a human male. Kyla instantly recognized them as Han Solo and Toah Jarsan.

“We were just having fun, Drozza,” said the Twi'lek, clearing her throat. “If Queen Kestora wants to keep these ladies around, we’ve gotta make sure they’re fit enough for our line of work.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” the Toydarian said sharply. “If the Queen wants you girls to break people in, she will tell you yourself. Otherwise, just do whatever you’re paid to do. Besides, we’ll be reaching Ord Mantell within the next fifteen minutes. I suggest you all get ready.” 

“Duly noted,” the Twi'lek replied.

Drozza continued to glare at her before departing from the room, taking the droids and their captives with her. As the gathered pirates exchanged groans of disappointment, the Twi'lek turned back to Kyla and the others, her purple eyes narrowed in indignation.

“You girls get off easy this time. You won’t be so lucky in the future.”

“Come on, Viira,” said Ketanna, placing an arm on the Twi'lek pirate’s shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”

Viira gave the prisoners one last glare before taking her leave. The other pirates shortly followed suit, with only a handful staying behind to keep guard. 

Kyla sighed as she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. “This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?” she muttered.

“Long and bad,” said Vessin. She looked over to Rey, Typha, and Jessika, who were all still recovering from the fight with the Cragmoloid. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this mess.”

Kyla thought for a moment as she continued to gaze skyward. “That Toydarian said we’re heading for Ord Mantell, right?”

Vessin glanced at the pirates standing guard. They did not seem to have overhead; in fact, it looked more like they were still bickering over something utterly frivolous and irrelevant. “I believe so,” she whispered back. “Why?”

“I think I might know someone there who can help us. If I can just get my hands on a comlink, I can give him a call.”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Rey walked over to the Mirialan and discreetly placed a small comm device in her palm. “I nabbed one from the four-armed lady while she wasn’t looking.”

“Wow, okay.” Kyla sat up before giving Rey a confused look. “But how did you do that?”

“I used the Force,” Rey said, as if it were that obvious.

“Did you also use the Force to choke that Twi'lek?” asked Vessin, raising an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kyla said before Rey could respond. She stuffed the comlink in her vest pocket. “Let’s wait until we get there before trying to make a call.”

Typha snorted. “Provided we live long enough….”

BIONICLE: The Rescuer - A Mahri Nui Short Story

 THE RESCUER

Jador hated the water. It was cold and wet, and it got everywhere. Especially when you were forced to live submerged in it for the rest of your life.

As a Ta-Matoran, it was only natural that he had such an aversion towards the sea; water was often used to put out fires, after all. However, he could not help but feel as if he was the only Ta-Matoran in Mahri Nui who felt this way. Sarda never seemed to complain much about their shared predicament, thought he did not complain much about anything. Even Nalrik, a hot-headed member of the Mahri Nui Council, seemed to have grown complacent with the situation they had found themselves in over seven hundred years ago..

But Jador couldn’t stand it. He didn’t understand how any of the others — whether they were Ta-Matoran or not — could stand it. There was only one type of Matoran that he could believe were absolutely fine with living underwater for the rest of their lives, and he seethed to so much as think about them.

And to make matters worse, he was pretty sure the others knew just how much he hated water. That was why they always sent him outside of the air bubbles that protected the villagers from succumbing to the dangerous waters outside to do some errand or other, whether it was watching the Hydruka harvest airweeds with Reysa or going out hunting with Dekar. Regardless of whatever enjoyment he would have otherwise derived from such jobs had he still be living on land, he always hated it because it required him having to leave the water-free zones of the city and into the treacherous waters that lay beyond Mahri Nui.

The Great Spirit must have thought it was really funny to sink a village full of Ta-Matoran and pretty much one Matoran of every other element into the Great Sea, instead of just throwing in the ones who actually enjoyed it. Well, Jador wasn’t laughing. In fact, he hadn’t laughed at anything in the past seven hundred years.

“All right, looks like we’re done here.”

Jador let out a sigh of relief, snapping out of the reverie he had found himself in. Watching the Hydruka harvest airweed was already boring enough as it was, regardless of whether he hated being underwater or not. He turned around to see Reysa swimming up to him, followed by a blue-colored Hydruka. For reasons Jador had yet to comprehend, the Onu-Matoran had given names to pretty much all of the Hydruka under his care; names that Jador could never keep track of.

“Did Thulox give you any trouble?” Reysa asked as he approached.

Jador frowned at him. “Sorry, which one was Thulox again?”

“The red one.” Reysa gestured to the crimson-plated Hydruka in question. “He’s been acting pretty surly for the past few weeks ever since I accidentally stepped on his tail.”

Jador stared at him for a prolonged moment, waiting (perhaps even hoping) for the Onu-Matoran to tell him that he was just joking around and had not actually named and personalized these water-breathing Rahi. Instead, Reysa turned his back to the Ta-Matoran without another word, beckoning for the Hydruka to follow him back to the city. Jador took a deep breath before going after them, doing everything he could to not release his frustration in a deafening sigh.

*  *  *

Back in the city, Jador savored the air as much as he could. He tried not to make too much a show of it, lest he get a lecture from Defilak about how precious this air was (of course a Le-Matoran would be obsessed over such a thing) or from Gar about looking like a huge jerk towards everyone. Then again, Jador got that last lecture from pretty much everyone on a day-to-day basis regardless of whether or not he was even in the wrong.

To say that Jador felt like an outcast in his own home would have been an understatement.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised; all of the Matoran living in Mahri Nui had originally hailed from different lands before being sent to Karzahni for “repairs” and then shipped off to the Southern Continent, where they had constructed the village that would later sink into the Great Sea as a result of a cataclysmic event. Even then, a good majority of the Matoran in Mahri Nui all seemed to have originated from the same island. Sarda, Defilak, Dekar, and Idris he knew hailed from Kangaro, a land in the western region whose Turaga had gone mad before sending the island’s entire Matoran population to Karzahni. Matoran like Gar or Reysa he wasn’t so sure about, but seeing as how well the former got along with Defilak, he honestly would not have been too surprised if the Onu-Matoran came from Kangaro as well.

As far as he knew, Jador was the only Matoran from his own homeland living in Mahri Nui. And had it not been for a certain Ga-Matoran, he probably would have never been sent to Karzahni in the first place.

While his memories of living on both Voya Nui and Karzahni were a blur, he still remembered his life on Kora Nui vividly. Specifically, he could recall the very moment that had resulted in his injury and prompted his Turaga to send him to the land where all broken Matoran were sent; something which Jador had thought only happened in legends or tales told around a campfire.

Every night, he saw her face in his dreams, vivid enough for him to memorize every last detail. The dark blue hue of her mask, the red glow of her heartless eyes, her mirthless smirk as she shoved him beneath the waters and held him there as he thrashed for air.

When he woke up, the pulse of his heartlight quickened to match up with the beat of his heart as he tried to catch his breath. When others would ask him if he was all right, he would brush off their concerns. He knew that if he told them, they would simply accuse him of making things up to justify his disdain towards Ga-Matoran.

Deep down, he knew his prejudice was irrational and unjustified. His would-be Ga-Matoran murderer was not representative of all Ga-Matoran; in fact, he knew plenty of Ga-Matoran on Kora Nui who had been nothing like Tuyet. But the trauma he had received from that event, coupled with the injury he had sustained that had led to him being sent to Karzahni, had been enough to cause him to avoid the Ga-Matoran living in Mahri Nui as much as possible. If Defilak wanted to put him on sentry duty, he would ask for a partner other than Kyrehx. If he wanted to ask Sarda something, he would wait until the other Ta-Matoran was done speaking with Idris.

It was a difficult way of living and would undoubtedly be much easier if he would just let go of his undeserved hate. But try as he might, Jador simply could not get rid of the image of Tuyet’s mask every time he looked at another Ga-Matoran.

While Reysa headed off to take care of the airweed they had harvested, Jador made his way towards the large dome at the center of the city. The Matoran Council was sure to be wrapping up their meeting about now and he was hoping to catch his friend Kyron on the way out. He used the term ‘friend’ loosely; as a Ko-Matoran, Kyron naturally butted heads with Jador on almost every time they interacted. But out of every one in Mahri Nui, Kyron seemed to tolerate Jador’s presence the most and had not practically shunned him like many of the others did, besides perhaps Sarda.

Upon reaching the dome, Jador scanned the sea of Matoran spilling out of it, searching for his Matatu-wearing friend. Back on Kora Nui, Jador had been a mask maker and was able to determine a mask’s power and shape with as much as a quick glance. As Mahri Nui lacked the materials required to make masks, Jador was forced to abandon this position, which frustrated him almost as much as being underwater did. When he had arrived at Karzahni, his Kanohi Sanok had been replaced with a mask that looked like a cross between two different masks; from one angle, it looked like a Kanohi Kiril while from another it looked like a Mask of Emulation. He had no idea where Karzahni had even gotten such a mask, but its mere shape infuriated him to no end. He had tried several times to get Sarda or any of the other Ta-Matoran to exchange masks with him, but each and every one of them had refused.

After several minutes of searching the crowd, Jador was unable to find his Ko-Matoran acquaintance. The few Ko-Matoran he did see either did not wear Matatu or did not have dark-blue armor accompanying their white. Frowning, Jador instead made his way towards Gar, who just so happened to be speaking with the Ga-Matoran Kyrehx. Jador cursed silently to himself but pressed on ahead, even when Kyrehx gave him a look as he closed in on the pair.

“Gar,” Jador said to the Onu-Matoran, speaking quickly in the hopes of getting this over with as soon as possible. “Have you seen Kyron around?”

Gar turned to him, a frown crossing his mask. “Kyron?”

“I just got back from herding the Hydruka and I was hoping to speak with him.”

“You just got back?” Gar’s frown deepened. “Then you haven’t heard….”

“Heard what?” Jador asked, an uneasy feeling of dread creeping into his soul.

“Kyron went missing earlier this afternoon,” Kyrehx said to him. “He was out on sentry duty with me when he was taken by some… by some creature with tentacles. I didn’t get a good look at it, but it didn’t seem like any Rahi I’ve seen before, at least not here in Mahri Nui.”

Jador’s world screeched to a halt, all of his senses going numb. He had been hearing rumors of Matoran disappearing for years, but they had happened so far and few in between that he hadn’t thought much of it. There were countless Rahi dwelling in the depths beyond Mahri Nui and it wasn’t unheard of for the odd Matoran to get on a Takea shark’s bad side. But recently the disappearances had been increasing, to the point where it was a frequent topic of discussion at council meetings. For his part, Jador had tried his best not to think about it too much, telling himself that it was something that happened to “other people.”

Well, Kyron was “other people.” And to others, so was Jador. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if some of them wished he had been the one to have disappeared, rather than Kyron or any of the other Matoran that had met their ill fates.

This realization shook Jador to the core and he started to sway on his feet. Gar stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was the most friendly gesture anyone had given him in… well, ever.

“I know Kyron was your friend,” the Onu-Matoran said quietly. “If you need a moment to rest and process this, then I understand.”

Jador could barely hear him. He felt like he was being drowned again.

“Jador?”

Kyrehx’s voice briefly broke him out of his trance and he finally brought himself to look at her. The look of concern and sympathy on her light blue Kanohi was a far cry from the heartless expression he had seen on Tuyet’s mask so many thousand years ago. In fact, the expressions on both her and Gar’s masks were unlike any he had seen from the other Matoran in Mahri Nui. For the first time in his life, he felt as if someone actually cared about him.

“I… I need to go,” Jador finally managed to say, his voice coming out in a croak.

Gar nodded in understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’ll make sure to let Defilak know of your absence; he’ll be leading the council in tomorrow’s session.”

Jador wasn’t even listening anymore, already turning and walking away from the other two Matoran, unsure of where he was even heading.

*  *  *

Against the others’ objections, Jador volunteered for sentry duty, taking up the post that had been left vacant by Kyron’s disappearance. He needed something to take his mind off of the loss of his friend and he hoped that the frustration of being underwater would help with that.

Instead, it did the opposite of that.

Standing on the outskirts of Mahri Nui’s borders, the only thing occupying his mind was the weight of the news he had just received. To think that all it took was the loss of the one Matoran who tolerated his presence at least somewhat to make him not only realize the gravity of the situation all of them were in, but to question the very mindset he had been abiding by for the last several centuries.

The look of sympathy he had gotten from Kyrehx, the words of consolation he had received from Idris as they had exchanged posts… it all made him realize just how wrong he had been to let his experience with a single Ga-Matoran — one who was atypical of her kind — shape his attitudes towards all others. It had been stupid and irrational of him, and now he feared it was too late to make amends. Any offer of reconciliation would be met only with either skepticism or outright rejection. He had already long burned his bridges with the population of Mahri Nui.

After several hours of patrolling the borders, seeing no sign of any Rahi or whatever creature that had taken Kyron, Jador noticed his air bubble beginning to diminish. Just as he was about to return to the city, a gleam of light caught his eye and he turned around to see a bright object descending from the waters above. He then noticed some sort of figure moving in pursuit of the object, swimming with the type of grace he would expect from a Ga-Matoran… except this figure was far too tall to be a mere Matoran. In fact, they looked more like a….

Toa! Jador had heard the stories of such heroes from his Turaga but had never seen one with his own eyes before; by the time he had been sent away for Karzahni, Kora Nui had no Toa Team of its own to speak of. Even so, he had heard enough from the likes of Sarda to know what one looked like, and he was positive that the figure chasing after the bright object was one themselves.

Figures it would be a Toa of Water, he thought, though strangely he didn’t find this prospect as upsetting as he normally would have.

However, as he watched the Toa, he noticed that they were no longer chasing after the object but instead desperately trying to swim their way back up. Their motions became haphazard and less skillful, as if they no longer had control over what they were doing. It only took a moment for Jador to realize that the Toa was drowning.

Without even thinking, without even paying attention to his quickly shrinking air bubble, Jador shot up towards the sinking Toa. As he drew closer to them, enough to make out their blue and white armor and strangely organic mask, Jador realized that his air bubble was all but out. He sucked in the remaining air into his lungs as he reached the Toa of Water, before using all of his strength to swim his way towards the surface. As far as he knew, no Matoran of Mahri Nui had ever attempt to swim back up to land, and he quickly realized why this was. Already he could tell that the breath he had taken would not be enough and could already feel water beginning to fill up his lungs. 

Still, he did not stop swimming. He would rescue this Toa from succumbing to her own element.

After everything, it was the least he could have done.

By the time they emerged from the ocean and onto dry land, it was already too late. Water had filled his lungs to the brim and he could barely process anything happening around him. He could feel the Toa of Water rolling him onto his back, pressing onto his chest in the hopes of resuscitating him, but he knew there would be no point.

Locking eyes with the Toa of Water, Jador used the last of his energy to speak the words that he hoped would bring the other Matoran down below the help they needed.

“Help us… city beneath the sea… help us, or… we’re lost….”

Jador did not live long enough to hear the Toa of Water’s response. The darkness quickly took him and his heartlight flickered one last time before fading away forever.

*  *  *

Some time later

The Endless Ocean did not seem to quite endless anymore, not ever since the world of Aqua Magna had been reunited with its sister worlds to reform the planet known as Spherus Magna. Still, in all that time, it had not lost any of its beauty and luster, and Toa Mahri Hahli still took great pleasure from looking upon the ocean whenever she had the chance. It almost made her feel like a Ga-Matoran again, living on the island of Mata Nui.

The sound of footsteps on the sand alerted her to the presence of Defilak. The Le-Matoran approached her with his arms behind his back, a curious expression on his emerald mask as he observed the life-sized statue that she was standing next to.

“I have to admit,” he said. “Out of everyone you could have chosen to build-make a statue of, Jador was the last person I would have expected.”

“He saved my life, Defilak,” Hahli replied. “If it weren’t for him, I probably would have died and the Toa Mahri would have been short another member. And someone needed to teach the others how to swim.”

“Fair point.” Defilak came to stand in front of the statue, scrutinizing it with his eyes. “I have to say, the Po-Matoran who sculpt-made this — Hafu was his name, wasn’t it? — really got everything down to the last detail. He even sculpted that ever-weird mask of his.”

“He had some help from some of the Matoran from your village,” Hahli admitted. “Don’t bring it up to him, though. He can get pretty insecure about his work.”

“Noted.” After another moment, Defilak directed his attention back to the Toa of Water. “In any case, it is an honor for you to have chosen one of our own to join your brothers and sisters on Memorial Beach. If it weren’t for your request, I’m sure Jador would have eventually quick-faded from everyone’s memory. Now he has been immortalized forever here, standing among the likes of Toa Matoro and Turaga Lhikan.”

Hahli smiled sadly, looking over to the many other statues that stood watch over the beach. “Trust me, the honor is mine as well. Sometimes, heroes come from the most unexpected of places.”

“We can agree on that, water-maiden,” Defilak said. He joined her in watching the sun set beyond the horizon, casting a golden glow across the Great Sea and onto the sculpture of Jador’s misshapen mask.

BIONICLE: Don't Look Down -- A Mata Nui Short Story

 DON'T LOOK DOWN

Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.

Tamaru squeezed his eyes shut as he sat on the back of a Gukko bird, holding on tightly to the reins of his saddle. Of course, it was more for his own support than to actually guide the Gukko as it slowly flew through the trees of Le-Wahi; that distinction went to the green-armored Le-Matoran sitting in front of him.

“Good, good,” Orkahm said soothingly to the Gukko as he coaxed it through its flight. “You’re doing ever-great. Just don’t look down.”

Tamaru frowned as he opened one eye. “Are you talking to me or the Gukko?”

Orkahm glanced back at him. “The Gukko,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why would I be speak-talking to you?”

“Because you’re telling it to not look down.”

“Ke here developed an ever-bad fear of heights ever since she took a nasty fall during the Bohrok Invasion,” Orkahm explained, stroking the side of the Rahi bird’s head. “I’ve been working to get her back into good-shape.”

“A Gukko with a fear of heights,” Tamaru said. “That’s a new one on me.”

“Is it any different than a Le-Matoran with a fear of heights?” Orkahm shot back.

“That’s different,” Tamaru muttered, closing his eyes again. “Besides, you agreed to help me get over my own bad-fear by taking me on your flights.”

“I know. Though it’s pretty convenient that you approached me and not Kongu. I’m sure he would have much-loved to take you out on a flight on Ka.”

“Kongu flies too ever-fast.”

“Well, if you have any hopes of joining the Gukko Force, you’re going to have to get used to flying ever-fast. Kee here is the exception at the moment, rather than the rule.”

“I know that,” said Tamaru. “I’m just… I’m just going about this one small-step at a time. That’s what Turaga Matau suggested to me; start off slow, then—”

“Whoa,” Orkahm said.

With his eyes still closed, Tamaru said, “’Whoa’ what? What are you saying ‘whoa’ too?”

“There’s… something down there. Something scary-bad.”

Tamaru tightened his grip on his own set of reins. “How scary-bad are we talking? It’s not the Bohrok again, is it? Or the Bohrok-Kal? I thought the Toa Nuva just defeated them.”

“No, it’s not the Bohrok-Kal. It’s—”

“Let me guess, it’s a new type of Bohrok, isn’t it? I bet they have gold armor plating instead of silver this time and are at least ten times more ever-powerful than—”

“Relax, it’s not any kind of Bohrok.” Though he couldn’t see him, Tamaru could tell Orkahm was rolling his eyes. “It’s just some Rahi-beast.”

“We see Rahi-beasts all the time though,” Tamaru said. “We’re riding one right now. What sort of Rahi-beast could have possibly get you to say ‘whoa?’”

“I don’t know. It looks like some sort of Ash Bear but… not. Can’t say I’ve ever spot-seen something like it before.”

A part of Tamaru wanted to open his eyes, but he knew he would have regretted it. Another part of him was wondering if Orkahm was trying to pull a prank on him. However, Orkahm was a lot more responsible and careful than most Le-Matoran were. It wouldn’t exactly have been in his character to do something like that.

“Could you perhaps describe-explain it to me?” Tamaru asked.

Orkahm was silent for a moment, most likely trying to get a good enough look at the mysterious Rahi in question to describe it. “Well,” he started to say, “it’s silver and red, with brown claws and teeth. Great-big claws and teeth at that. It’s standing on its hind legs and….”

“And?” Tamaru asked when the other Le-Matoran trailed off.

“And I think it’s spot-seen us.” Orkahm’s voice was awfully quiet now. He usually was — another thing which made him atypical of most Matoran of Air — but something was off about it this time. Tamaru dared say that he almost sounded… fearful.

“Maybe we should quick-turn back,” Tamaru suggested, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Tell Turaga Matau about this.”

“I agree. Let me—”

Whatever else Orkahm was about to say was drown out by an ear-splitting roar. The Gukko which the two Le-Matoran was riding on let out a startled squawk and started to fly quickly and haphazardly through the forest. Caught off-guard by this sudden motion, Tamaru’s reins slipped from his hands and he fell off of the Rahi bird’s back, plummeting towards the ground below as Orkahm cried out his name.

Never once during his fall did Tamaru open his eyes. Even though there was no chance of him surviving it, he still did not want to see the fast-approaching ground and be faced with the inevitability of his death.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.

Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind and Tamaru felt his body slow in its plummet. The wind softly carried him along to the ground, allowing him to straighten up as his feet gently touched grass. He sucked in and released a deep breath of relief before finally opening his eyes.

He immediately wished he hadn’t.

Standing before him was a creature that exactly matched the description Orkahm had given it. Covered from head-to-toe in silver and scarlet armor plating, the strange Rahi had a fearsome maw and a pair of claws that were larger than any he had seen from a Rahi before. The biomechanical beast stood on its hind legs, something which he usually only saw Ash Bears do when they were trying to intimidate or preparing to attack. But this one was standing on its legs as if it was normal for it to do. Tamaru could not think of any Rahi that stood on two legs like a Matoran or a Toa or a Turaga.

And unless someone quick-saved him now, he would never see another Rahi — or a Matoran, Toa, or Turaga — ever again.

The beast, whatever it was, was slowly stepping towards him, a low growl rumbling from its throat as it flexed its claws. Fear rooted Tamaru’s feet to the ground, preventing him from making an attempt to escape. Of course, if this Rahi was some strange Ash Bear variant, then running would likely simply provoke it and solidify his chances of dying.

Thus, all Tamaru could do was do what he did best: Squeeze his eyes shut and prepare for the worst.

The next few seconds passed in a tense silence, save for the guttural sounds coming from the beast. To Tamaru, they felt almost like an eternity. Then, he heard another gust of wind followed by what sounded like something — or someone — landing between him and the Rahi, accompanied by the sound of blades being unsheathed.

“I’m sorry, foul-creature, but Matoran are not on the menu today.”

Once again, Tamaru dared to open his eyes and couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Standing before him, tall and proud as the sun gleamed off of his emerald and silver armor, was Toa Lewa. The Toa Nuva of Air gripped his Air Katana in both hands as he boldly stared down the monstrous Rahi, a grin threatening to split open across his Kanohi Miru Nuva.

“If you would like, I have something else that you might like to eat-try. I like to call it… dirt!”

He made a gesture with his Air Katana, summoning a blast of wind which kicked up a cloud of dust and dirt in the Rahi’s face. The creature roared in annoyance as it backed away, coughing as it staggered back on its feet. It quickly recovered before lunging at Lewa, swinging one of its claws at the Toa Nuva of Air. Lewa crossed his swords together to block the attack; when the beast reeled back for another strike, he seized on the opening it provided him and released another powerful gust of wind, blasting the Rahi back. It landed a couple of bios away from the Toa Nuva and the Le-Matoran he was protecting, before quickly getting back onto its feet.

“Hm,” Lewa Nuva mused aloud. “This is certainly unlike any Rahi-monster we’ve faced before. Another one of Makuta’s minions perhaps?”

“I don’t see an infected Kanohi anywhere on it,” Tamaru pointed out, hoping to be helpful. “Maybe it’s just lost or confused.”

“Then let us quick-relieve it of its confusion!” Lewa declared. Before Tamaru’s eyes, the Toa Nuva of Air’s mask morphed from the shape of a Miru Nuva into that of a Kakama Nuva. The Mask of Speed glowed to life as Lewa shot forward, kicking up dirt and dust in Tamaru’s face, getting in his eyes and causing him to cough. He wiped the dirt from his mask just in time to see the speeding Lewa collide into the Rahi and create a powerful impact that sent the beast flying through the air and into the trees. The Toa Nuva of Air continued to run after it, disappearing into the forest and leaving Tamaru alone.

“Need an up-lift?”

Tamaru looked up to see Orkahm descending from above, still riding atop Kee. The Gukko still looked incredibly unsettled at what had just happened and even Orkahm seemed somewhat perturbed. Great Spirit knew how the Le-Matoran had managed to stay on the acrophobic Gukko as it wildly flew through Le-Wahi, let alone calm it down enough to be able to control it.

As Orkahm lowered himself down, he extended a hand to Tamaru. The other Le-Matoran moved to take it only to hesitate.

“What’s wrong?” asked Orkahm. “Come on, that nasty-bad Rahi could be back at any minute and Toa Lewa will have to worry about protecting two Le-Matoran instead of none.”

“I just….” Tamaru swallowed hard, fear once again causing him to freeze in place. “I don’t want to drop-fall again.”

Orkahm frowned and looked as if he was about to say something when Toa Lewa suddenly burst out of the foliage of the forest, moving at top speed as if he had just been thrown by a powerful force. He collided into Orkahm, knocking the Matoran off of Ke and onto the ground. The Gukko let out a terrified squawk but did not take off, instead buzzing around in circles as it chirped madly.

As Tamaru stood there, frozen in shock, the monstrous Rahi emerged from the shadows of the forest. Treading on its large hind legs, it once again set its sights on the Le-Matoran and began to approach him, its eyes glowing with hunger. Tamaru had no idea how the beast had been able to repel Lewa with such might, yet alone return to this spot so quickly. All he knew was that it did not matter, because he was about to die.

The Rahi started to close in on him, its teeth and claws bared. Tamaru started to close his eyes, bracing for the end.

Then he heard Kee let out a squawk. He looked over at the Gukko, watching it continue to spin around in circles. It took him a moment to realize that the Rahi bird was looking straight at him, chirping loudly whenever it made eye contact with him. He then looked back to the monster and noticed that it too was glancing at the Gukko, growling in annoyance.

All at once, everything clicked together in Tamaru’s head. Moving slowly so as to not provoke the monster, he walked over to the Gukko, which slowed down enough for him to grab onto its reins and pull himself onto its back.

“All right,” he murmured into Kee’s ear. “Let’s do this. Just whatever you do….”

The monster turned its large form to face them, coiling its body as it prepared to spring on them.

“Don’t look down.”

With a single lash of the reins, Kee took off into the air. She did not go up too high however; just enough out of the monster’s reach so that it could not strike them no matter how far it tried to jump. Then, the Gukko began to spin around. And around. And around. The monster spun with it, snarling with irritation as it swiped at them to no avail of bringing them down.

Tamaru could feel himself getting dizzy. He could only hope that the beast was starting to feel the same way; judging by the groans it started to utter, it already was.

Thankfully, the Matoran-Gukko team did not need to maintain this act for long. By this point, Toa Lewa had already managed to recover and was approaching the distracted beast, exchanging his current mask for a green Pakari Nuva, the Mask of Strength. Without a word, he grabbed the monstrous Rahi from behind and lifted him up with all of the strength the mask provided him. Tamaru and Kee moved out of the way in time as the Toa Nuva of Air hurled the beast into the air, adding another blast of wind to propel the creature. Judging by the direction Lewa had thrown the beast and the force he had put into his throw, it was likely that the creature would land somewhere in the Endless Ocean, far away from Le-Wahi or indeed anywhere on the island of Mata Nui.

It was not until Kee had safely landed that Tamaru allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief. He dismounted from the Gukko and set foot onto the ground, only to immediately fall mask-first onto the grass.

“Oh Great Spirit, I am never doing that again!” he exclaimed.

“You did great, my friend!” said Lewa, crouching down beside him. “That was ever-brave of you to face your fear in order to protect your friends.”

“He didn’t go up that high,” said Orkahm, coming up from behind the Toa Nuva of Air. “And that wasn’t really flying so much as spinning—”

“Nevertheless, it is a great-step towards conquering one’s fear,” Lewa insisted. “I am sure Turaga Matau will be ever-proud to hear of your feat.”

Tamaru lifted himself up to look up at the smiling Toa of Air. “Really?” he asked, his eyes wide while also still slightly crossed.

“I mean, if nothing else, I’m sure Kongu will be happy to hear about Kee,” said Orkahm, walking over to the Gukko in question. He patted her on the side to calm her down before climbing onto her back and grabbing her reins. He then looked over to Tamaru. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before that nasty-bad creature learns how to swim.”

Tamaru got up to his feet and stared at the Gukko and her pilot for a moment. He then looked up at Lewa Nuva, clearing his throat. “Do you… do you think you could wind-fly with us back to Le-Koro? Just to keep us company,” he hastily added. “No… no other reason.”

Lewa Nuva laughed. “Of course I can. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

“Oh, you won’t have any trouble with that,” Orkahm said dryly. “You’ll probably be plea-begging us to speed things up.”

“Whatever for?” asked Lewa, patting Tamaru on the shoulder. “Just gives me more time to spend with my friends.”

Tamaru beamed at him before walking over to join Orkahm atop Kee.

This time, as they took flight, he did not close his eyes.

*  *  *

Several kios away, the monstrous Rahi emerged from the Great Sea and stepped onto the shores of Kanae Bay. Water dripped down its armor as it stalked back into the forests of Le-Wahi, beginning its long journey back home.

The beast had accomplished what it had set out to do. With the Bohrok-Kal defeated, a new threat was needed to keep the Toa Nuva on their toes, lest they grow weak in complacency. While such weakness would make it easier to defeat them when the proper time came, it would have also been difficult to derive much pleasure from such a lack of challenge. Besides, as much as the beast hated to admit it, it needed the Toa Nuva alive in order to bring about that which it had planned. Should some other malevolent force that the beast had no control over come to threaten Mata Nui and the Toa failed to stop it, then everything the beast had done for the past several millennia would have been for naught.

The Toa Nuva needed to be ready for anything, and the beast already knew exactly what to throw at them next.

Willing the shadows to serve their master and mask the beast’s trek through the wilderness of Mata Nui, Makuta laughed softly to himself, eagerly anticipating whatever the future would bring.

FIN

Star Wars: Vergence I, Interlude

INTERLUDE

One would have been forgiven for mistaking a planet like Hosnian Prime for Coruscant. Once an unremarkable industrial world during the days of the Old Republic, it had quickly expanded into a cosmopolitan ecumenopolis under the rule of the Empire and in the close-to-four decades that had passed since the formation of the New Republic. As one of the first worlds to join the New Republic, it had been a valued member of the Senate and even briefly served as the Republic’s capital during the administration of Chief of State Lanever Villecham while Coruscant was under repairs from the effects of the Imperial Sith War. Even to this day, there were whispers of such a move happening again as the political climate of the Galactic Alliance shifted into chaos.

Whatever the outcome was, it was of little concern to Vixen. Regardless of whatever government ended up in charge of the galaxy and where they decided to make their nest, it did not change who she worked for and what she did for them. If there was anything that was constant in the universe, it was that.

The streets of Darropolis were deserted for the most part, save for the type of beings who liked to hang around conspicuously as soon as the sun went down. As an attractive woman who tended to wear small or tight clothing, she was used to the leering gazes of various males (and even females) from those who dwelt in the shadows of street lamps. But they never made any move to pursue or corner her, especially once they saw the creature that followed in her trail.

The Xylini moved like a serpentine shadow, coiling around any object it found in its path. Some may have mistaken it for an Anacondan or some other kind of snake, but the presence of two long horns protruding from the creature’s skull as well as its multitude of limbs — legs which could double as arms depending on how far up it extended itself when standing — would have debunked such presumptions. Between its unusual appearance and the unsettling, face-splitting grin that was a permanent fixture on its chalk-white face, its mere presence in proximity to Vixen was enough to dissuade any wannabe assailants.

As Vixen neared her destination, which was a nondescript residential building, the Xylini slithered ahead of her before extending upward to loom over her.

“I trust that you will have good news to deliver, yes?” the Xylini said, pinpricks of purple lighting up in its empty black eyes.

Vixen avoided his gaze. “I do,” she said firmly.

“Good, good. I would hate to see what ill fate would befall you if you did not.”

Vixen rolled her eyes but said nothing as she rapped her fist on the door to the residence. A few minutes passed before a small slit slid open, revealing a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

“Password,” came the snarled request.

“The mynock has no wings,” Vixen replied.

The slit closed shut. A few seconds later, the door slid open and Vixen quickly stepped into the barely lit hallway that laid belong, the Xylini following her closely. At the end of the hallway was a second door which opened on its own as soon as the pair neared it. On the other side was a small room occupied by a single table, a pile of datapads stacked on top of it. Sitting at the table was a lonely Pa’lowick, who lifted his eyes from the datapad he had been reading.

“Ah, Vixen. Just on time.” Sal Orbego set down his device and interlaced his long fingers together. “How was your visit with Senator… what was his name again? Bramsin. Fost Bramsin.”

“It was to die for,” Vixen said coolly. “The custodians should be finding his body in the storage closet any minute now, if they haven’t already.”

The lips on the end of Orbego’s long proboscis twitched into a smile. “Delightful. And I trust that you were able to obtain enough information against Senator Xiono should he attempt to finger us as the culprits.”

Vixen smirked. “More than enough, actually. I just so happened to catch him being… particularly friendly with the Senator of Glee Anselm. It would sure be a shame if his wife were to find out about that.”

“A terrible shame indeed. Excellent work, as always.” Orbego cleared his throat before reaching again for the datapad he had been reading. “Anyway, I have new orders for you. Coming straight from the top.”

“Already? Feels like I’ve just started here.”

“Yes, well, things are being expedited a tad ahead of schedule. Nothing too drastic, thankfully. Just shifting things up a day or so on the calendar.”

Despite his words, Vixen could tell in his voice that Orbego was more than a bit put off to this schedule change. As Malvis’ chief adviser and bookkeeper, the Pa’lowick was incredibly strict about deadlines and details that were otherwise trivial in the grand scheme of things. Everything had to be absolutely perfect, and if something was set in stone, then it was set in stone for good. There was no changing it… unless Malvis changed it as he pleased, in which case Orbego could not say anything to object to the crime boss’ decision nor do anything to change his mind. All he could do was pretend that it didn’t bother him (even though it did) and just go with the flow.

It was honestly both amusing and sad to watch when witnessing it all play out on the trunk-nosed alien’s face.

Clearing his throat, Orbego continued. “You are to return to Coruscant and carry out your assignments there. Instructions will be transmitted to you as soon as you land there.”

“You can’t give them to me now?” Vixen asked.

“This particular assignment is extremely high-risk,” Orbego said pointedly. “High-risk and low profile. Failure to properly execute your assignment will result in your own execution. This is the ‘Big One,’ as they say. At least for you.”

Vixen’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I would have though what I’ve been doing here is already pretty ‘big.’ Assassinating and blackmailing senators in order to sow confusion and chaos between all of the parties in the Senate? That’s galaxy-wrecking stuff in and of itself.”

“Yes, well….” Orbego tapped his fingers on his datapad, a nervous tic Vixen often saw from him. “This one goes above and beyond that. Again, you will know the full details as soon as you reach Coruscant. Just keep in mind that… Malvis could have chosen literally any of his other operatives for this assignment. Literally anyone.”

Vixen allowed herself a smile as she gently ran a hand through her dark violet hair. “Yet he chose me. I’m flattered.”

“I’m being serious, Vixen. To be given an assignment as important as this one from Malvis himself is one of the highest of honors in the Cabal. Should you manage to pull this off, there will be a handsome reward and a large promotion in your future. Many of the crime lords may even be envious of you.”

“You’re just hyping this up to make sure I do a good job,” Vixen chided him. “I’m sure as soon as I get there, it’ll turn out to just be a pickup of some takeout dinner that Malvis ordered.”

Orbego laughed uneasily. “Trust me, you’ll wish it was that.”

“We’ll see,” Vixen said before turning on her heel as she started to walk for the exit.

“Good luck,” the Xylini called after her, still lurking in the shadows. “You’re going to need it.”

Vixen did not indulge the creature with a response or even so much as a glance as she continued to walk out.

*  *  *

As soon as the door had closed behind Vixen, Sal Orbego heard a beeping sound go off. His eyes drifted to a holo-projector that was situated in the corner of the room and saw a small light flashing. He let out a sigh as he beckoned for the Xylini to switch the device on. The creature obliged and within moments Sal Orbego was staring at the life-sized holographic figure of an older woman wearing an elegant white and red dress. Her nose immediately wrinkled in disgust as her eyes fell upon the Pa’lowick.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“I’m sorry, did you input the wrong hailing frequency?” Orbego shot back. “Who were you expecting to see when you called?”

“I was expecting Malvis himself,” the Dowager of Sedratis replied, sticking her chin up. “I thought this was his personal comm channel.”

“It is. I just happen to be using it while he’s off running errands.” Orbego interlaced his fingers together and brought them up to his proboscis. “Now, what is it I can help you with?”

The Dowager huffed. “If you must know, I had something of importance to report to Malvis. However, I would rather deliver it to him specifically rather than to his lackey.”

Orbego refrained from rolling his eyes. “Suit yourself. If that will be all, then—”

“However,” she interjected, “since you’re here, I must ask: Has any progress been made in locating my daughter?”

“Your daughter?” Orbego asked. He knew who she was referring to, but decided to feign ignorance.

“Malvis had told me that he would send some of his agents to locate her after her involvement in the death of Hahgalor Mos,” the Dowager elaborated. “I’ve already sent agents of my own, but I was hoping to hear if any progress had been made by Malvis’ own.”

“I’ll have to check,” Orbego said, though he had absolutely no intention of doing so. Although the Dowager was one of the top crime bosses of the Cabal, that did not mean he had to indulge her with her petty family drama. Unless locating her daughter was part of the Cabal’s overall agenda (which it wasn’t as far as he knew), then he was under no obligation to help her in her “quest.”

“See that you do,” the Dowager said haughtily. “The sooner she is found and apprehended, the sooner I can rest easily.”

“Yeah, sure thing. Will that be all?”

Sareth Valrisa said nothing as her holographic figure shimmered away. Orbego rolled his eyes as far back as they could go as he slumped in his chair.

“I really loathe that woman.”

“Are you going to check for her?” asked the Xylini.

Orbego groaned. “Well, gee, I guess now I have to,” he said, glaring at the creature as he reached for one of the stacks of datapads on his desk. “If only so I don’t have to listen to you nag at me.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” the Xylini said with that uncanny grin of his.

Grumbling to himself, the Pa’lowick dug out a datapad and switched it on. Before he could begin to read it, the holo-projector beeped again.

“Oh, for stars’ sake!” Orbego moaned. Without even needing to be told by him, the Xylini switched the device back on and another holographic figure materialized in the room. This time it was a different woman, one dressed in an elegant pirate outfit and wearing a fearsome mask over their face. Orbego recognized her as the self-proclaimed “Queen” Kestora, ruler of the Veiled Sorority and one of the Cabal’s most recently acquired members.

“Your Elegant Highness,” Orbego said, not really caring if he was getting the “formal” title correct or not. “How may I be of service?”

“I would like you to field a message to the Dowager Sareth of Sedratis,” Queen Kestora replied. “I would have contacted her personally, but she refuses to accept my calls for whatever reason.”

Orbego was aware that Sareth preferred to keep to herself and often refused to interact with any of the other Cabal leaders. Although Kestora was not yet quite of that tier in the Cabal’s hierarchy, he wouldn’t have been surprised if Sareth nonetheless thought of her that way. 

Letting out a sigh, he said, “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your message?”

The pirate queen beckoned to someone out of range of whatever holocam she was using to record herself. She then reached over and dragged a shackled woman into view. The young human had long dark hair and equally dark eyes that were narrowed in indignation.

“Tell her to meet me on Ord Mantell,” Kestora said, “and that I have her daughter.”

With that, the image of the pirate queen and her prisoner vanished as soon as it had appeared, leaving Orbego to stare in the space where it had been, the mouth on the end of his proboscis hanging open.

“Well,” the Xylini cackled, “if that isn’t the mother of all coincidences, then I don’t know what is.”

Transformers Regenerated: Tales from the Convoy Corps - Nitro Convoy

 THE ROAD TO HELL: NITRO CONVOY'S TALE

Velocitron, Cycle 9514

On Velocitron, the word “stop” was a foreign one. The best way to get a Velocitronian’s attention and get them to slow down was to get ahead of them and prove yourself to be a faster racer. Naturally, only other Velocitronians were capable of doing this, leaving those not local to the planet having to find some other means to get their attention or to simply just give up.

At least, that was how things normally went. Cybertronians would just give up and not even try to catch up with the Velocitronians. That was how it had always been ever since the colony world joined the Autobot Commonwealth and opened itself up to visitors.

Today was different, however. Today, the Cybertronians were not just making the effort to catch up with their Velocitronian counterparts… but they were actually succeeding.

And trying to run them over.

Clocker prayed to all of the deities he knew the name of as he sped down Velocitron’s never-ending, all-ending roads as he tried to create as much distance as he could between himself and the massive black truck that was on his tail. Such efforts were in vain however as the truck continued to close in on him, honking its horn as it let out a maniacal laugh.

“End of the road for you, ya little dipstick!” Motormaster cackled. “There’s no one around to save you this time!”

Clocker could feel his engine starting to strain from the stress of him accelerating at such high speeds; speeds that his small frame could barely handle. His glowing blue wheels were also beginning to wear out, since they were not exactly made for high-speed chases that spanned pretty much the entire planet. Especially chases that had been going on for nearly an entire day now….

“Give up yet?” Motormaster continued to taunt him. “Sooner or later, your engine will, whether you want it to or not. Then there really will be no escape for you!”

He tried not to listen to the truck. Just keep your eyes on the road, he kept telling himself. As soon as he reached Delta, he would be home—

An explosion suddenly launched him into the air, flinging him several feet across the road he had been traveling. He transformed to robot mode and tucked himself in as he hit the ground, though the impact still did quite a bit of damage to his small body. So much in fact that he was unable to move from where he had landed, all of his joints and pistons aching like hell. The truck slowed down as it reached him, its cab splitting open and unfurling to take on the form of a massive gray robot with cold red optics and a menacing grin. In his hand was a large purple sword that was practically the length of Clocker’s entire body.

“That was fun,” Motormaster said in a low voice. “But all good things must come to an end eventually. As much as I would love to chase you for a few more days, I’ve got other things to attend to.”

He raised his sword above his head, the sun gleaming off its violet finish.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make this as quick and painless as— ARGH!”

The Stunticon lurched back as a blaster bolt exploded against his chest. Clocker’s optics went wide as a gray and red shape came out of nowhere and collided into Motormaster, the force being strong enough to push the Decepticon back a few steps. The figure then bounced off of him and landed right next to Clocker, separating him from his assailant.

“When will you ‘Cons learn,” Nitro Convoy said as he drew a twin-barreled cannon, “to pick on people your own size?”

Motormaster snarled as he reoriented himself. “I should be asking you the same thing, Autobot. What makes you think you’ll fare any better against me than this minibot?”

“The fact that I have a weapon as well as experience in kicking Decepticon aft should be enough,” Nitro Convoy replied.

Motormaster chuckled darkly. “We’ll see about that,” he said as he swung his sword arm down onto Nitro. 

The lithe Autobot ducked to the side, letting the blade strike the ground, as he pointed his weapon at the Stunticon and opened fire. Motormaster growled in annoyance as he raised a large arm to shield himself from the attack. While Nitro Convoy continued to shoot at the large Decepticon, he looked over to where Clocker was laying.

“Get out of here, kid! I’ll hold him off, but it won’t be for long.”

Clocker groaned as he struggled to get up. “I… can’t. Can barely… feel my transformation cog….”

“Ah, scrap.” Raising a hand to his helm, Nitro said, “Convoy to all available units. I’ve got an injured civilian here. Can someone come and pick him up while I try to deal with—”

He let out a cry as Motormaster swung out an arm and knocked his weapon out of his hands. The Stunticon then raised his sword and brought it down onto the Autobot, delivering a slash across his chestplate.

“NO!” Clocker cried out as he watched Nitro Convoy crumple to the ground, unmoving.

As Motormaster cackled with laughter, he turned his sights back onto Clocker. A ruthless grin split across his face as he stormed towards the wounded Velocitronian, gripping his sword with both hands as he prepared to deliver the fatal blow. Left with no other option, Clocker closed his optics and prepared for the end.

“There is no need to fear death, little one,” Motormaster rumbled. “We all must die some— …eh?”

Clocker dared to open his eyes and saw Motormaster still standing over him, a look of confusion on his face. The Stunticon lowered his sword and raised a hand to his helm’s comm unit.

“Are you kidding me? I was just getting started! Do you have any idea how— …eh? Say that again? Well, why didn’t you just say so?!”

Before Clocker could speculate as to what the topic of conversation even was, Motormaster transformed back into his truck mode and peeled away, leaving behind a cloud of exhaust in his wake. No more than a few minutes had passed after the Stunticon’s departure when Clocker the sound of car engines fast approaching him and the injured Nitro Convoy.

“There they are!” a voice called out. “I see them!”

A blue blur shot passed him, transforming into a slender robot as he rushed over to where Nitro lay. He was soon joined by three other cars, who converted to robot mode as well. While one joined the blue one in attending Nitro, the other two made their way over to Clocker.

“Did you get hurt bad, pal?” asked a bot in yellow and blue, his armor plating suggesting a dragster alternate mode.

“No,” Clocker muttered. “Just had a nasty fall. Nitro Convoy is worse off than me.”

“Even so, we need to get both of you to a repair shop, asap,” said a teal and red Autobot. “Hopefully Thunderclash is nearby so he can help us carry them back to Delta.”

As the pair helped Clocker to his feet, the Velocitronian looked up to see the other two Autobots doing the same for Nitro Convoy. Thankfully, Clocker’s savior was still functioning; however, the expression on his face made him look as gaunt and empty as any lifeless body Clocker had seen.

It would be an image that would haunt him for years to come.

*  *  *

“I could have stopped him. He was right there. I could have stopped him.”

“This isn’t gonna be a new mantra of yours, is it?” grumbled the small green and white bot as he patched up Nitro Convoy. “’Cos it’s already starting to get old.”

“I can’t help it, Autolander,” Nitro replied, laying on his repair berth. “I know I’m better than this. I’ve done better! I’m one of the few to have looked a Destructon in the eye and live! And yet I get my actuator handed to me by a freaking Stunticon.”

“Motormaster is pretty much in his element here,” pointed out Getaway, standing nearby with his fellow Autobots Slapdash and Joyride. “He and his Stunticons are all about ruling the streets, and Velocitron is… well, its all streets.”

“Even so, this is my home,” Nitro Convoy said. “The Stunticons — as well as you guys — are all from Cybertron, and no offense, but you guys aren’t exactly the fastest bots in the universe. Fast for Cybertronians, maybe, but not fast enough for Velocitron. But Motormaster… he was driving at speeds that I didn’t think Cybertronians were capable of. He was practically tailing poor Clocker.”

“To be fair, Clocker isn’t exactly the fastest among Velocitronians either,” Autolander said, eying the small white and orange bot who laid on a repair slab across from Nitro.

But Nitro shook his head. “No, there’s something going on here. The speeds Motormaster was driving at were simply not possible for a Cybertronian… at least not without enhancements.”

“Enhancements, huh?” Autolander paused in his work to scratch his chin. “Y’know, I have heard some scuttlebutt about some illegal trading going on in the Underroad. My brother Brakedown overheard some folks talking about it at the fueling station he works at. It’s possible that some of those black market bots are selling some kind of tech to the Decepticons to give them an edge in their campaign.”

“The Underroad, huh?” Nitro’s optics lit up with interest. “That sounds like something worth looking into.”

Autolander gave him a disapproving look. “I wouldn’t go there, lad. Even for a bot like you, the Underroad is a dangerous place. There’s all sorts of trouble you could find yourself winding up. Why, there’s stories I could tell you from my days as a young racer myself.”

“Oh, spark, please don’t,” said Slapdash, covering his audio sensors with his hands. “Listening to Kup drone on is bad enough. Hell, you’ve even got his colors!”

“Sounds like someone I could get along well with,” Autolander said. “Anyways, even if you did go into the Underroad, I’m sure Motormaster’s given them your description by now. They would recognize you in a nanoklik.”

Nitro smirked. “Not if I get a different paint job.”

“That’s not gonna—”

“My body-type is pretty commonplace here on Velocitron, Autolander. My sister Override’s got it. There’s also that fangirl of mine — I forget her name — she even goes around wearing my colors!”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Getaway muttered.

Autolander sighed. “Well, if you’re really set on doing this, I’ll set you up with Excellion for a makeover. I still think this is dangerous.”

“Yeah, but you can’t really stop me, can you?” Nitro quipped.

“I don’t think anyone can….”

*  *  *

“This had better not be a ploy, Ransack.”

“Hey, relax!” The small red motorbike-bot held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I know better than to cross you guys. ‘Specially after I saw what you did to that one guy. I don’t think that poor sod’s ever gonna get his fuel pump realigned, eh, Crumplezone?”

“Nope,” replied the large green mech.

The pair and their benefactors stood in the shadows of the Navitas Overpass. The area which laid beneath the roads of Velocitron, seldom trodden by the natives, was collectively known as “the Underroad,” where seedy criminals and shady bots like Ransack and Crumplezone made illicit deals and trades to get their servos on illegal enhancements that would give them boosts in the races above. While none of these enhancements would ever get the bots that operated the Speedia 500, the race which determined the leader of Velocitron, it often slipped under the radar of those running smaller races, allowing the duo to compete and win and get away with their earnings.

Today, however, these very enhancements were going to be used to help the Decepticons win a war. Neither Ransack nor Crumplezone knew how exactly that was going to work, but neither of them really cared enough to question it. So long as it resulted them in getting compensated, that was all that mattered.

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy to get my hands on this,” Ransack said as he hefted the large case of energon boosters, setting it down at Motormaster’s feet. “The Dirt Boss drives a hard bargain, and I’ve already had to donate a quarter of fuel just to keep him happy.”

“Wait a minute, did you say ‘Dirt Boss?’” asked one of Motormaster’s Stunticons, a twitchy white and blue bot named Breakdown. “What’s a Constructicon doing on a planet of race cars?”

“Different Dirt Boss, moron,” muttered Dead End, a red and black Stunticon. “Velocitronians don’t need to keep track of what names are already taken on Cybertron.”

“Yeah, besides, don’t we already know, like, ten different Ransacks?” said the yellow and purple Drag Strip.

Ransack cleared his processor. “Yeah, well, his real name’s Inch-Up, anyway,” he murmured. “Anyways, that’ll be fifty thousand credits.”

“Fifty thousand?!” rumbled Motormaster, his red optics flaring. “We agreed to twenty-five!”

“That was the cost for the boosters,” Ransack said, his mouth twitching into a smirk. “The additional twenty-five is compensation for my acquisition of the boosters. I mean, I’ve gotta make a profit somehow, right? You’re not just placing the money I’ve already spent back into my account.”

“You’ll be lucky to exit this transaction with your spark chamber intact,” Motormaster growled. “Make it thirty thousand.”

“Thirty thousand? Are you kidding me?” Ransack looked up at Crumplezone. “These guys can’t be serious. Can they? No, it’s gotta be a joke. This must be what Cybertronians thinks jokes are.”

“Fifteen thousand,” Motormaster snapped, taking a large step towards Ransack which caused the small red bot to yelp in fear. “Plus you and your friend's lives. Coming from me, that’s a deal of a lifetime.”

“It really is,” cackled the gray and red Stunticon known as Wildrider. “Seriously, you should’ve seen the last guy who tried to bargain with him. I don’t think they’ve found all their parts yet.”

Shaking, Ransack looked back up at his partner. “I think fifteen thousand sounds good, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Crumplezone said meekly. Evidently his size and fanged jaw were just for looks. “Yeah, fifteen thousand is good. Great, actually.”

Motormaster grinned. “Excellent. Dead End, transfer the money to their accounts.” He then reached down for the case and picked it up, opening it to admire the contents within.

“The roads will be ours, boys,” the Stunticon leader said. “The Autobots won’t know what hit them.”

*  *  *

“Motormaster, eh?” The purple and green bot leaned against the support beam of the overpass he was standing under, eying the sleek black and blue bot standing across from him. “That’s an odd name to bring up. Why do you think I would know anything about them?”

The mysterious bot shrugged. “Sounds like someone you’d get along with. You do call yourself ‘the Dirt Boss,’ don’t you?”

The purple bot laughed. “Ah, my reputation precedes me! Most people on Velocitron just know me as Inch-Up; only my brothers and sisters here in the Underroad call me Dirt Boss.” He narrowed his optics skeptically. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around these parts before.”

“I’ve been around; you’ve probably seen me before in a different body-type. I like to… change things up now and then. Keeps people off my trail, you know?”

Dirt Boss chuckled. “You sound like my kind of bot. If you’re looking for a job, I’ve got some available positions for ya. I’m sure we’d get along fine.”

“I’ll consider it,” the stranger said. “But first, I need to know about Motormaster.”

“I don’t know him.”

The stranger showed him a handful of credit chips. “I think you do.”

Dirt Boss’ optics practically bugged out as he counted the amount in the stranger’s hands. After recomposing himself, he straightened up and took the credits from the stranger’s hand.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” he said in a low voice, “but Motormaster and his Stunticons are using energon boosters to get an upper hand in their campaign against the Autobots here. No idea how exactly they plan on using them.”

“Any idea where they are now?” the stranger asked.

“I may have heard rumors that they’re gathering near the outskirts of Delta. But they’re just that though: rumors. Make of it what you will but don’t take my word for it.”

The stranger smiled, something which unsettled Dirt Boss for some reason. “Thank you for your help. And I promise to consider your offer.”

With that, he transformed and peeled off into the night, kicking up dust in his wake.

*  *  *

“Did he say when he would be back?”

Joyride shook his head as he adjusted the scope of his blaster rifle, situated on a ledge that extended from Delta’s capitol building. “I don’t believe so.”

Getaway frowned behind his faceplate. He looked down from the ledge, watching as his fellow Autobots and their Velocitronian allies went about setting up defenses for the city of Delta. They had just received a call from Nitro Convoy, telling them that the Stunticons were planning on storming the city and were using energon boosters to increase their speed. However, while their commander had given them directions on how to prepare for the Stunticons’ arrival, he had not said when he would be returning to Delta to help them, if at all. It was Primus’ guess as to what the Convoy was even thinking.

After a moment, Getaway said, “You don’t think he’s doing anything stupid, do you?”

“Define ‘stupid,’” Joyride replied.

“I just mean… he was pretty worked up about that incident with Motormaster. Kept kicking himself over it and everything. Do you think he would try to get even with them or something?”

“Do you?”

Getaway thought for a moment. “Honestly? Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what I would do.”

From down below, a red and teal Autobot approached the ledge that Getaway and Joyride were standing on. As leader of the Axelerators unit, Rapido was next in line of command of the Velocitronian-based Autobots after Nitro Convoy. He even took precedence over Thunderclash which Getaway found strange, though he wondered if that had to do with Thunderclash being a humble bot who preferred not to embrace the hype surrounding him whereas Rapido… wasn’t so much.

“Have you two finished setting up defenses?” Rapido called up to them.

“Just about,” answered Joyride.

“Good, because Windbreaker’s just spotted the Stunticons on his macro-binoculars. They’re approaching pretty fast, so be ready to start firing at any moment.”

After making some final adjustments to his weapon, Joyride got down on his chestplate and situated his weapon on the edge of the ledge. Getaway crouched down beside him, raising his own rifle as he peered through its scope. He twisted a knob to get a better visual of what was up ahead and quickly saw exactly what Rapido had said: all five Stunticons roaring down the road that lead into Delta, moving at speeds that were unusual of typical Cybertronians.

“Battle positions, everyone!” Rapido called out. “Vroom, take the left flank! Skram, Turbofire, you take the right! Thunderclash, you and your team—”

The rest of his orders were drowned out as the Stunticons came roaring into the Velocitronian city. In the lead was Motormaster, his giant truck form barreling towards Rapido and colliding into the red and cyan Autobot commander. Skram and Turbofire quickly abandoned the orders they had been given and moved to help their leader only to be tackled from behind by a crazed Wildrider. Without awaiting for any further commands, Getaway and Joyride opened on fire on any Stunticon that entered their line of sight. A golden blur passed before Getaway’s optics and before he knew it both he and Joyride were falling from the ledge they had been perched on, crashing into the ground below.

As Getaway struggled to pull himself back up, the golden blur returned and slowed down enough for him to make out a yellow and purple Decepticon standing in front of him, a cruel grin on his faceplate.

“Bet you didn’t see that one coming,” Drag Strip cackled.

Getaway groaned as he struggled to raise his weapon at the Stunticon. Before he could properly aim it, Drag Strip was gone in a flash. Looking around, Getaway saw that his comrades were faring no better; Vroom was driving around in circles with a crimson blur that was likely Dead End; Windbreaker and Slapdash had been brought down by a hyperactive Breakdown; and Thunderclash was standing his ground against Motormaster, only to then be brought down by a large purple sword coming out of the black blur that was the Stunticon leader.

“Give it up, Autobots!” Motormaster bellowed. “The roads of Velocitron are ours! You are not fast enough to stop us!”

“They might not be,” a voice called out. “But we are!”

Out of the blue came even more colored blurs that Getaway’s processor could not slow down enough to actually process. The Stunticons’ cheers of victory quickly turned into cries of surprise as they were knocked this way and that, spinning around in circles as they were chased by these new fast-moving bots. As Breakdown ran past him, Getaway got a close enough look at the red blur chasing him to make him out to be the bot known as Excellion.

“You Stunticons may be fast,” the voice that had spoken earlier continued; only now did Getaway realize that it was none other than the voice of Nitro Convoy. “But your speed is artificial, not natural. Artificial…”

Wildrider let out a cry as he tripped on his feet and fell face-first onto the ground, allowing his pursuer Hightail to apprehend him.

“…and temporary!”

Almost at once, the Stunticons began to gradually slow to normal speeds, allowing the Velocitronian reinforcements to quickly overwhelm them. One by one, Breakdown, Dead End, Drag Strip and Wildrider were quickly dispatched, leaving Motormaster as the last one standing. Gripping his sword in both hands, the Stunticon leader scowled as the Velocitronians all came to a stop to stand before him, with a sleek black and blue bot standing front and center.

“If you want to rule the roads,” Nitro Convoy said, “then you have to play by the rules. Here on Velocitron, there are only two: Be fast, and no cheating.”

“Screw your rules!” Motormaster snarled. “I don’t need to be fast or to cheat! I can win just by crushing you all with my bare hands!”

“You can try that,” Nitro Convoy said with a smirk. “But you’d have to catch us first.”

“Yeah,” said Blurr, grinning widely. “All of us.”

Motormaster narrowed his optics as he looked from one Velocitronian to another. He then looked over to where his four Stunticons laid, with Getaway and the other Autobots now standing over them. His face then twisted into a scowl as he sheathed his sword.

“This isn’t over,” he growled. “I’ll be back, this time with reinforcements. Then you will all rue the day you trifled with the Motormaster!”

“Okay,” Nitro Convoy shrugged. “Just make it snappy. We Velocitronians tend to get impatient pretty quickly.”

“Especially when around you slow and cumbersome Cybertronians,” Excellion said, feigning a yawn.

With one last glare, Motormaster transformed into his truck mode and drove away, kicking up a cloud of fumes in his wake. The gathered Autobots and Velocitronians watched him depart from the city before directing their attention to the four captured Stunticons. Nitro Convoy walked over to them and got down onto one knee, flashing a grin.

“Bet you didn’t see that one coming.”

“Go frag yourself,” Drag Strip muttered.

*  *  *

Motormaster had not been lying. A matter of days after the Stunticons’ defeat, the Decepticons returned with reinforcements led by General Clench. They proceeded to assault the city of Delta, a disastrous battle during which the other four Stunticons were liberated and rejoined with their leader. While the Autobots were eventually able to turn the tide in their favor and drive the Decepticons off… by that point, there was little left of the city that was still worth protecting.

While the central building was still mostly intact, save for a few dents and scratches, all of the roads leading to it had collapsed in on themselves and any buildings that had been on the city perimeters had been obliterated. Across the planet, several other roads and settlements had suffered the same fate, if not worse. While such roads and buildings could be repaired, it would be a process that would take several years, even for as fast as how Velocitronians typically moved.

Nitro Convoy stood on the edge of a slope that oversaw the ruins of Delta, a grim expression on his face. Hearing the sound of footsteps from behind, he turned around to see the Autobot commander Thunderclash approaching him.

“We’re all set and ready to go,” said the white and teal Autobot. “You coming?”

Nitro Convoy shook his head. “No. I’m staying.”

Thunderclash’s optics widened in surprise. “You are? Why?”

“This is my home, Thunderclash.” Nitro Convoy gestured to the ruined city below. “This is my home and I let it get ravaged by the Decepticons. I could have prevented all of this if it wasn’t for my arrogance.”

“Come now, Nitro. You couldn’t have predicted any of this. No one could have. You can’t be too hard on yourself for something like this.”

Nitro shook his head. “In any case, it’s time for me to take a break from being a ‘valiant war hero’ or whatever it is I’ve been doing for the past seven hundred years. It’s time for me to actually makes a difference that matters not only to myself but to my people.”

Thunderclash inclined his head in acceptance. “If that is your desire, then I shall not dissuade you from your decision. I take it that this is goodbye, then?”

“Yes. At least for now.“ Nitro transformed into his race car form, revving up his engine. “Tell Optimus that it’s been an honor serving under him… but I have a city to repair.”

With that, he drove down the slope and sped his way back towards the city of Delta, never once looking back.